Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The storm had ceased, but the ongoing rain still drenched the streets of Atlanta, much to Negan's chagrin. He loved his morning walks with Tiger, but every step outside was just a pain in the ass in this weather.

He unzipped his jacket as he walked upstairs, unsnapped Tiger's leash, and unlocked the door, finding his sub obediently kneeling next to the coat rack, right where he had left him.

"Have you been good?" He brushed three fingertips over the man's slightly tousled hair, hanging his jacket up.

"Hm." Daryl was on pins and needles. He knew Negan had just been gone for twenty minutes as always, but it had felt much longer, sitting all alone in the quiet entrance room. And now that he was back, smelling like wet earth, fresh air, and leather, all he wanted to do was get up and hug him. "'was good."

Negan stepped out of his boots, took his scarf off, put the leash on the dresser, then fished a raisin out of his pocket and shoved it between warm lips, "Well done." snapping his fingers on the way to the living room. "You may serve breakfast."

Daryl sniffed his nose, nudged it against Tiger's snout when the dog greeted him with a wagging tail, and rose to his feet to go into the kitchen, on slightly stiff legs. He pulled his loose pajama pants up and made sure to make a wide berth around the ugly crater in the beautiful hardwood floor, guilt filling his guts immediately.

There was a new paper sheet at the fridge. The squares were more accurate now and in black ink instead of pencil, because Negan had drawn them himself. 28 of them, for four full weeks. Above the squares were the weekdays written in elegant handwriting, and above that, the encouraging words: You wanna be good for me

Daryl liked the new paper sheet. He knew he was supposed to make a blue cross for every day he had been good. And after four good days in a row, he would get a special reward. Certainly more pajama pants, or rides on the motorcycle.

He also knew that he would have to sit on the most dreaded chair in the house, on days he wouldn't be able to cross out a square. That was the new rule. But Daryl didn't worry about that, he would just behave.

There was also a yellow post-it on the fridge door, to remind him that he wouldn't get three warnings anymore for unanswered questions. The small paper said in explicit black words:

REMEMBER!

1st strike - Warning
2nd strike - Time Out
3rd strike - Lose a privilege

You want to speak when you're spoken to!

Daryl gave it a quick glance. He didn't like that one. Because he didn't like questions or answers. But it was obviously important to Negan, so he would just try his best.

He opened the fridge door, got the freshly cut fruit out and put it on the counter.

"One setting." Negan sat down and unfolded his damp newspaper. "Don't burn your fingers."

Daryl filled one of the bigger mugs with tea, flinched when a drop landed on his thumb, glanced back over his shoulder to make sure Negan hadn't seen it, and quickly wiped his hand into his shirt. It didn't really hurt. He flicked his head to the side, to get some annoying strands out of his face, and carried the plate of cut fruit and a very full mug of tea to the dining table. He put it down, scratched his temple, and then went back to the kitchen because he had forgotten to bring cutlery and a napkin.

Negan snapped his fingers and pointed to the free space next to his chair, when Daryl came back with a fork and grey paper napkin. "Down. Show me your hand." He folded his newspaper in the middle and put it on the table next to his plate.

Daryl crouched down on the floor and held his hand up, presenting the things he had brought in addition.

"Does it hurt?" Negan took the napkin and fork, then examined the red spot on Daryl's thumb. A shake of the head was the only answer he got. "You want to answer my question."

"Doesn' hurt." It really didn't hurt. Only a little. And Daryl wasn't sure how the tall angry man even knew about the silly spilled hot tea. He wanted to pull his hand away, but then didn't, because Negan spat a drop of saliva on the sore spot of skin and rubbed it in. It felt soothing and very nice.

Negan pinched Daryl's chin and started eating. "I don't like your posture."

Daryl sniffed his thumb, glancing up at Negan, perplexed a moment by the statement, and then immediately straightened his back and shoulders, before he spread his knees and put his arms behind his back. He looked up again for confirmation.

"Much better." Negan put his fork down and fed Daryl a slice of banana with his fingers. "You know where we go next week?"

"Hm." Daryl nodded, swallowed his food after chewing twice and opened his mouth for more. He was very hungry.

Negan arched his brows at him, waiting for a real answer.

Daryl sniffed his nose, shifting on his ankles. "To Merle."

"Our visit got approved for March the 1st. That's Monday in a week." Negan shoved a grape between Daryl's lips, followed by another piece of banana. "We will travel in the meantime."

Daryl didn't like that. He wanted to stay at the factory and visit Merle. "To Washington?"

"No. To Fort Lauderdale." Negan sipped from his tea to check the temperature, then held the cup to Daryl's lips. "There is a port. I have to attend a cruise."

Daryl's eyes darted from left to right as he took four big gulps from the soil-forest tea, then licked his lips when Negan put the mug back on the table. "On a ship?" The picture of a huge wooden sailing ship popped up in his head, on rough sea, with sharks and whales and big waves all around. He didn't like it one bit.

"A big one." Negan fed Daryl more banana and a couple of blueberries. "I will work there and I want you to assist and keep me company. Right?"

"Okay." Daryl wasn't sure what Negan could possibly work on a ship, but seeing the ocean would certainly be nice. He could take a picture for Merle.

"Good." Negan took his newspaper and flipped straight to the stock market report. "Go take a shower and wait for me in the bedroom."  

----

Daryl knelt for 16 minutes on the wooden floor, close to the wall. The underfloor heating was on, but a slight shudder ran through his naked body anyway, when Negan finally stepped through the door. He didn't say anything and just vanished into the bathroom. Daryl could hear the sounds of urine splattering into the toilet, followed by flushing, then water running, teeth brushing, some kind of clattering, the rustling of clothes, before Negan came back with a bare chest and bare feet, wearing nothing but black denims, holding three big towels in hand.

He smiled briefly when Daryl looked up to see what he was doing, stroked a hand through longish hair, and then started to remodel the bed to his liking. He removed the thick duvet and stored it in the bottom part of the wardrobe, then spread the three towels out on Daryl's side of the mattress, searched for something in the dresser, and put several items on the nightstand.

It all made Daryl's stomach feel weird and tingly, and he nervously bit his lip, when Negan returned to him and squatted down, getting on eye level to examine freshly washed skin and hair.

Negan checked the man's ears, neck, and teeth, then looked at the small red spot on his thumb and rubbed it. "Are you all clean for me, puppy?" He got a nod and a very serious look out of blue eyes for an answer. "Mhm." He copied the nod. "That's your first strike, right? You wanna answer me."

"'m clean."

"Yes, you are. How much do you like me." Negan waited for an answer and then chuckled low in his throat, when Daryl again said nothing, but parted his lips and slid his tongue out instead. "Oh yes?" He grasped the man's chin and spat with force right onto a submissively presented tongue, "Good boy." stroked damp lips with the tip of his thumb, kissed them, and rose to his feet, snapping his fingers. "On the bed."

Daryl got up and licked his lips, liking the taste of minty toothpaste and Negan's spit. He sat down on his side of the mattress, suspiciously brushing his hand over the generous towel cover. "Why is that here."

"Why is a towel underneath your butt?" Negan took his laptop and made himself comfortable on the bed with stretched-out legs, crossing his ankles. "I'm gonna play with you and don't want a fucking mess on my sheets." He started typing something. "Now come here."

Daryl sniffed his nose and rolled over on his side, hesitantly moving closer to Negan, his mind racing as he tried to figure out what kind of play would make a big mess.

"I have to get a few things done before we start." Negan put a strong arm around Daryl's naked form and unambiguously pulled him firm against his side. "You may snuggle me in the meantime."

Daryl held his breath, the side of his face squished against a warm, hairy chest. He could hear Negan's heartbeat, felt vibrations spreading through a broad rib cage when the man cleared his throat, and then listened to the clicking sound of the keyboard as five fingers answered a mail to a business partner in Norway.

After six minutes, Negan chuckled, seeing a post in the kinky part of tumblr, with a picture of him and Paul, and the wise comment 'This is what true devotion looks like'.  The chuckle made the laptop on his belly jiggle slightly, and Daryl found the courage to stroke the fine dark hair covering the man's pecs, with shy fingers, like a bunny at the petting zoo.

Negan flipped through a few pages, ordered after-play-food from 'Savi Provisions' for the early afternoon, ordered the newest issue of 'Men's Fitness' from Amazon, using their ship-to-prison program, and then didn't look up from his screen as he nudged the top of Daryl's head with his chin. "Do I feel nice?"

Daryl planted a kiss next to a dark pink nipple. "Yes."

"Mhm. You wanna suck like a good puppy, right."

"Yes." Daryl brushed his lips through coarse hair, and then loosely put them around a hard nipple, circling the surrounding flesh with his tongue, before sucking it deep into his mouth. He closed his eyes and reached up to stroke the side of Negan's neck and half a minute later, bravely slid his knee over the man's thigh, feeling a strange tingling sensation deep in his belly.

"Good boy." Negan typed a message to Simon one-handedly, drawing lazy circles on Daryl's back with the other, then sighed in annoyance and propped his arm up behind his head when another e-mail arrived.

Daryl glanced at the screen. It was a long text with several pictures of product samples. He felt bad for the tall angry man. Sending so many words to read on a Sunday wasn't fair. He kissed a spit-wet nipple, licked it once more and then brushed his lips along the black ink of a tattoo, sniffed, moved a bit higher, kissed and sniffed again as he reached an exposed armpit. He looked at it for a moment, then nudged his nose into dark hair and poked his tongue out, breathing warm air against the sensitive skin with his first lick. It was tasty and smelled good, so he licked again, looked at the tiny drops of spit getting caught in fine dark hair, then licked once more and sucked a little, angling his head. It made his heart beat faster and he rocked his hips against Negan's side, making quiet slurping noises as he intensified his efforts, loving the very faint taste of salt on his tongue.

Negan's fingers stilled on the keyboard and he tipped his head back and closed his eyes for a second, impressed by his sub's impetuous tongue work. After another two seconds, he shut his laptop, blindly put it aside and grasped Daryl's chin, pulling him up for a wet kiss. He growled deep in his throat when he tasted himself on the man's lips and wrapped his arm breathtakingly tight across a bare back, kneading firm ass cheeks as he thrust his tongue deep and hungrily into Daryl's mouth. "Fucking naughty boy." Then pulled back, and rolled over, moving on top of Daryl in one swift motion, pinning his wrists down on the mattress. "What are you doing?" He licked with a broad tongue over reddened lips, studying a flushed face. "Licking me with your sweet puppy tongue?" He eased the man's thighs apart with his knees, licking the corner of a damp mouth as he moved his hard bulge teasingly against Daryl's middle. "Are you making me fucking hard? Tell me."  

"Hm." Daryl spread his legs, feeling his cheeks glow as he stared up into Negan's face. "Yes."

A smirk curled around Negan's lips. "Yes, you do." He circled his hips, making his arousal known. "You want my dick up your pretty hole, don't you boy."

Daryl blinked and flicked his head, making his long bangs fall to the side. He really wanted that and he raised his hips, trying to engage in Negan's dry humping. "Yes, please." His words were quiet but very polite. He felt proud as he heard his own voice saying something so nice.

"Mhh, yes please." Negan repeated the words in a contented purr. "Look at you being so clever." He lowered his head, nipping at Daryl's bottom lip, then licked it. "But you can't have my dick today, right?" He nuzzled long strands of hair to find a pale ear underneath. "Because I will fist you."

Daryl tensed instantly, clenching his butt. He had forgotten about that. The images of a man being buried up to the elbow in another man on Valentine's Day popped up in his head. Maybe he didn't like that so much.

Negan huffed a small chuckle into the crook of Daryl's neck as he felt him freeze, and raised his head, gazing down. "Are you a worried puppy?"

Daryl wasn't sure what to say, nodded first, then shrugged and finally shook his head, adding a gruff little, "No."

Pure adoration curved Negan's lips and lit dark eyes. He copied the mixture of different head movements, then bent down to lightly touch their lips together, speaking against them. "I don't hurt what's mine." He let go of Daryl's wrists and instead settled one hand loosely on the man's collared throat, while the other reached down between them, stroking a bare erection. "Right? I make you feel good."

Daryl spread his thighs a bit wider, his breath coming fast. He nodded, parting his lips with a hoarse sigh because Negan's fingers felt really very good.

"Mhm." Negan didn't close his eyes as he traced the outline of a warm mouth with the tip of his tongue, then dipped inside, enjoyed the short huffs of breath coming in sync with his expert strokes, let a thick drop of saliva trickle on Daryl's tongue, then groaned and sucked it off again. "Good boy." He moved down, nipping the man's jawbone, licked a cool steel collar with wet tongue, brushed his bearded chin along a freckled chest, and chuckled when a jolt ripped through Daryl's body along with a surprised gasp, when he closed his lips around the swollen tip of his cock. He sucked it just for a second, tongued the slit for a little while, licked the oozing pre-cum off, and then sat back on his heels, enjoying the sight of a heaving chest, twitching erection, and flushed skin. "Look at you, such a pretty boy." He brushed his fingertips along a hairy shin, then got up and vanished out of the room.

Daryl felt cold and miserable instantly. His body was aching and buzzing. He covered his eyes with his forearm, pressed his thighs together, then squeezed his throbbing penis.

"Boy." Negan came back, snapping his fingers as he stepped in front of the bed. "Come here. Kneel." He kept a straight face and waited patiently for Daryl to sort his foggy thoughts and loose limbs, watched him sit up and move closer, getting into a kneeling position and flick his head with a stressed little sigh. Negan stood straight and tall, arched his brows and grasped the man's chin in a firm grip. "Are you allowed to touch yourself?"

Daryl took his hand off his hard penis and nervously put his arms behind his back, giving a quiet answer that sounded more like a guess. "No."    

Negan slapped a flushed cheek lightly, raising his brows half an inch higher. "That's not how you wanna say it."

Daryl felt his heart speed up and the need to hide his face against a broad chest got really urgent. "'m not allowed." He smacked his lips as his eyes darted to the right for a second. "Sir."

"Who is allowed to touch you? Tell me."

Daryl sniffed his nose as he glanced up. "You."

"That's right." Negan released Daryl's chin. "Shoulders back, spread your knees." He watched as his order got followed through, "Spread them wider, present that pretty cock for me." and nodded, shoving a rewarding raisin between pale pink lips. "So much better, good job."  

Daryl chewed and then exhaled heavily through his nose, grunting a little, when Negan reached down and gave him a couple of firm strokes. The feeling made his abs flex and his thighs tremble.

"Mhm. That's how I want to see you, right? Nice and hard." Negan massaged the spilling pre-cum around a swollen cockhead with his palm, then held his hand up in front of Daryl's mouth, as if he wanted to feed him a sugar cube. "You wanna clean my hand, so I can put on my glove."

Daryl glanced nervously up, then lowered his head and poked his tongue out, timidly licking the man's palm. It tasted salty. He made his tongue flat and broad, licked up to the sides, the space between long fingers, and the meaty part at the ball of his hand. In the end, he looked up again, Negan's hand glistening in spit.

Negan seemed to like it and smiled. "Such a sweet puppy, licking me so nicely." He pinched the man's cheek twice with the back of his fingers and went around the bed to his nightstand.

Daryl didn't turn around to look, but he heard a familiar snap of rubber against skin, before a water bottle and tub of lube was thrown on the bed, right next to him. It wasn't the one Negan used usually on him, but a black container with lid, featuring the picture of a white fist on top. Nervous goosebumps broke out all over his skin and he shifted on his ankles, making himself a few inches smaller, when Negan came back.

"Up." Negan gestured with two black latex fingers to make Daryl straighten his back, then grasped his chin and tilted it upwards for eye contact. He held his four fingers, side by side, and folded his thumb underneath, showing the width of his knuckles in a row. "That's what you took and liked." He pointed to a spot at his wrist, a few inches behind the rim of the glove. "That's what will go in. I wouldn't fist you if I didn't know for sure that you could do it. Right?"

"Hm." Daryl nodded, not sure if he should feel scared or proud as he looked at the diameter of the broad hand, unable to imagine that it had really been inside his body. "Right."

"Right." Negan took Daryl's head in both hands, stroked the soft skin behind pale ears with his thumbs and bent down, brushing his lips against the man's mouth, then parted it with his tongue for a gentle kiss, combing his fingers through long hair.

Daryl raised a bit higher up, his arms falling slack to his sides as his mushy brain forgot all about postures and correct positions. He sighed a shaky breath against Negan's lips and opened his own mouth wider to allow better access, bravely sliding his tongue against a claiming counterpart. Negan tasted so good.

"Good boy, giving such nice puppy kisses." Negan pulled back with a last peck on wet lips, then patted a firm butt cheek. "On all fours. Show me how I like to see you."

Daryl leaned his forehead for a moment against a broad, hairy chest, because he felt really nervous, and then slowly turned around, moving on all fours, his thighs spread widely, his back arched, because that's how Negan liked it best.

"Very nice!" Negan's praise was spoken in loud, clear tone, dripping of approval, as he opened the lube container and put it on the bed within reach. He stroked the bare backside offered to him, cupped free hanging balls, gave a twitching shaft a teasing stroke, and then walked around the bed to fish a crinkled latex glove out beneath one of the pillows. "You wanna hold it, puppy?" He smiled encouragingly, giving Daryl first the glove, then fed him a raisin. "Remember the rules. Listen to what I say, focus on what I do. Show me your signal if you need to stop." He ruffled the man's hair, wagging his brow. "Right? You're doing awesome."

"Yes." The feeling of pride tugged at the corners of Daryl's mouth. He leaned for a second into the safe hand touching his head, then missed it instantly when it vanished suddenly, just like the comforting presence of a tall man and deep voice. He curled his fingers into the thick towel, felt something drop on the mattress next to his leg, looked back to see that it was Negan's expensive phone, and then flinched when the back of his thigh was swatted.

"Up! You wanna raise your bum for me." Negan spread the man's cheeks, enjoyed the sight for a moment, put his left foot on the mattress and a steady hand on Daryl's lower back, bending down to give the small opening a wet lick, making the muscle clench instantly. Negan chuckled, repeating his action, lapping the tight hole expertly with a low moan. "Are you tasting so good for me?" He spoke against wet skin, admiring the close-up view. "Tell me boy."

Daryl blinked through tousled strands of hair, holding his breath as his mind exploded with the feeling of a rough beard, warm lips, and wet tongue caressing his butt.

Negan swatted Daryl's thigh again, pulling back for a moment to massage the contracting muscle with his thumb. "Answer me, does your sweet puppy hole taste extra good for me today?" He heard the man exhaling, right before a small, 'Yes.' was mumbled, and watched satisfied as Daryl pushed backwards, in search for more contact. "Yes  it does, right? It's a special occasion."

Daryl raised his head a little, then let it fall between his trembling arms, feeling Negan french kissing his most private parts, nipping, sucking and licking, rubbing certain spots with his fingers in between.

Negan watched the pink flesh contracting and twitching under his efforts, loving the natural responses and small whimpering noises Daryl gave him. "Hm, boy... does that feel so nice." He purred, licked again and thrust his tongue past the muscle, moaning deep in his throat when Daryl wailed and pushed back against his face. He held him by the hips, circling his tongue, nipping and sucking, thrusting it back and forth again and again, then pulled back to examine his slick, pink artwork in deep satisfaction. "Look at that, fucking gorgeous."  

Daryl let out a shaky sob, clutching his souvenir latex glove, as he first lowered his hips, then raised his ass higher up, desperately wanting more.

"Mhm." Negan licked the wet entrance with broad tongue and then cursed against it, when Daryl  pushed out all on his own, opening up his muscle with a deep, hoarse grunt.  "Are you showing me your pretty hole, puppy? You want more, don't you." He nipped and sucked it, probed it with his finger, then pulled back and reached out to gather a generous amount of thick lubricant and spread it on the man's crack, before he worked two slick fingers in, pushing slowly, as he held Daryl in place with a firm hand on his lower spine. "Is that so much better?" He moved them back and forth, circling them a little. "Tell me."

Daryl exhaled through slightly parted lips, squeezing his eyes shut, mumbling a quiet "Yes." He shifted on his knees and spread them wider, rolling his hips a little as Negan twisted his fingers inside him, crooked them upwards and nudged his prostate. It made him grunt and his thighs shake, while he felt something trickling down on the soft towels.

"Yes, it is right." Negan confirmed, spinning his fingers, tapping them against the man's sensitive inner walls, then pulled them back out, just to add a third. He spread them, moved them back and forth and massaged Daryl's insides expertly, before he reached down with his other hand, groaning deep in his throat when he found the man's cock dripping. "What's that boy." He stroked it twice, then massaged Daryl's thigh. "Look down. What are you doing on my towel."

Daryl's head was spinning. He heard Negan's deep, silky voice, felt his muscles tremble, wonderful pressure stretching his insides, and let out a groan as he blinked his eyes open, looking down at the towel, his spread thighs and free hanging genitals, trying to make sense out of the situation. "A puddle." It was the first thing coming to his mind and his croaky voice did its best to vocalize it.

"You do make a fucking puddle." Negan agreed, smiling faintly at the whimpering figure on his bed. "Is it all for me?" He pulled his fingers out and pushed them all the way back in immediately, hitting the prostate purposefully, then rubbed the spot in a steady rhythm, making Daryl writhe. "Hm, boy, tell me. Are you making such sweet gifts for me." He watched as Daryl tried to move with him, back and forth, groaning and grunting, breathing heavily, pressing out something similar to a 'Yes' in an attempt to reply obediently. "Yeah, look at you, fucking yourself on my fingers, horny puppy boy." Negan moved them back out, very slowly, groaning when the muscle twitched with the sudden emptiness.

He bent down to lick it, then applied more lube, massaged it in and in addition spread it all over his latex clad hand, between his fingers, and up to his wrist. "You wanna be good and push out for me?" He swiped his thumb through the wet crack, applying extra pressure, as he probed the loosened ring of muscle, making it clench, before Daryl pushed against him to open up with a low groan. "Look at that, such a smart boy." Negan fused his four fingers together and circled them around the entrance, "Push." before he pressed them in, feeling his own cock twitch in delight as Daryl moaned and lowered himself down on his forearms, burying his face into the thick towel. "Fucking good boy, Daryl." His black thumb splayed upwards along Daryl's crack, Negan twisted the row of four fingers inside the tight heat, crooked them and massaged the man's prostate and inner walls, until he heard desperate panting. "Is that almost my whole hand, boy?"

"Hhh." Daryl arched his back, stemming his forehead into the mattress, feeling his heart race and blood pulse in his ears. He shifted on his knees and moved his pelvis back, his body unsure whether it was better to retreat, or thrusts against Negan's hand. The pressure was intense, his skin slightly burning, but each finger inside him wriggled and moved, first separately, then all together, tickling secret spots and stroking him gently. He heard himself mewl in a really strange way and wished the tall angry man would come and pet his hair. But then he heard a wonderful deep, comforting voice and remembered that Negan was right there, caressing him from the inside. He raised his head off the thick towel, trying to look back over his shoulder to see dark eyes and a rough beard.

Negan pulled his hand back two inches and slid it back in, then turned it around, pointing the thumb down, massaging the sensitive flesh between Daryl's entrance and balls.  He heard his name being mumbled almost soundless into a thick towel and looked up when Daryl raised his head and glanced at him with dazed blue eyes and impossibly flushed cheeks. "You miss me, boy?" Negan smiled faintly, planted a kiss to the top of the man's crack and carefully pulled his fingers out. "You want to show me your sweet puppy face?" He rubbed the empty, pulsing hole with his thumb, then patted a firm ass cheek. "Turn around for me. On your back."

Daryl licked his lips, then smacked them because they felt dry. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do, his foggy mind far past the capability to make sense of spoken  words. His butt felt horribly empty and his body was all hot and strangely out of place. He sat up on his heels, instantly reaching for his throbbing entrance, then turned around kind of awkwardly, blinking through his long bangs at the tall man standing at the end of the bed. He held the black latex glove up for Negan to see, panting and flicking his head.

A fat, clumsy butterfly poked around in Negan's stomach, seeing Daryl sitting there with heaving chest and hopelessly tousled hair, looking kind of miserable as he pointlessly held his crinkled souvenir up. He chuckled, leaned in close and bit Daryl's finger. "That's yours. I have my own, right?" He nudged their foreheads together, then grabbed the Evian bottle and unscrewed the lid one-handedly, holding his gloved fingers carefully out of the way. "Drink." He put the bottle to Daryl's lips, making him drink almost half of it, then took a few big gulps himself and put the lid back on, throwing the bottle somewhere on the mattress. "Good boy." He stroked a strand of sweaty hair out of a pale forehead, grasped Daryl's chin and pulled him up higher. "You wanna lie down now? Present that pretty wet hole for me?" He didn't wait for an answer, but wrapped his arm firm around Daryl's body, dragging him close, covering the man's mouth with his own, and immediately involved him in a steamy kiss, plunging his tongue deep, taking his breath away. He squeezed a firm ass cheek hard, then stroked a gooey crack, unashamedly fingering the loosened hole he found, making Daryl gasp and groan wantonly into the kiss.

Daryl clutched his crinkled glove and clawed five fingers into Negan's bare torso, trying to get higher up and somehow closer, his entire body feeling like it was on fire. He exhaled soundly through his nose, feeling dizzy from the lack of oxygen but refused to pull back from the wonderful demanding tongue claiming his mouth.

Negan did it for him, licking broad and wet over reddened lips, sucked the spit off, feasting on the display of pure devotion in a sweaty, flushed face and the slack body in his hold. He bit the corner of Daryl's mouth. "Down on your back, boy. Present for me." He gave him a challenging look, taking his hands off. "Now."

Daryl glanced up, seeing dark eyes glint and sparkle and a slight smile curving the very corner of Negan's mouth up. It made the middle of his chest flush a shade deeper, and he turned around, clumsily getting into the required position on the towel. He felt wet spots in his back, his heart pound in his throat, and squeezed his thighs together when his penis twitched all on its own.

Negan tilted his head to the side, standing tall and patiently at the bottom end of the bed, watching and stroking himself through his pants. "That's not how you wanna present for me."  

Daryl blinked up through long, messy bangs, hesitantly pulling his legs up to his chest, then let his thighs fall to the sides, exposing his genitals as he was supposed to. He wanted to touch himself so badly. His entire lower body tingled and pulsed. But Negan stared at him, silently, with bare chest and an impressive bulge in his black denims, holding his gloved hand up, while he used the other to openly pleasure himself. The sight made Daryl's hole twitch and the butterflies in his belly flutter in excitement.

"Better." Negan tilted his chin up, giving the deliciously displayed body on his bed an appreciative once over, before he moved onto the mattress, on his knees, staring Daryl right in the eye. "You're the fucking hottest guy I ever had." He knelt right by Daryl's ass, upright, hovering over the naked man, as he popped the top button of his pants open, sliding his bare hand inside. "You make me cream my pants like a 15 year old." He stroked himself a couple of times, then pulled his hand back out, leaning over Daryl, arching his brows at him as he held his wet fingers up. "Look at that. Naughty puppy. You make my fucking balls ache."

Daryl wasn't sure what that meant, but he could feel a hard bulge rubbing against his bare ass, and smelled Negan's most intimate scent. He wanted to lick the glistening fluid off strong fingers and opened his mouth, obediently sliding his tongue out in hope for a treat.

The needy, pleading look out of blue eyes made Negan's chest clench in heat and he had to use all his willpower to put the perverted part of his personality back into place, as it demanded the most ribald, filthy things. He muttered something obscene, pressed his protesting, withheld cock against a bare crack, and bent down to lick Daryl's tongue, then gathered some saliva in his mouth and let it trickle down. He watched as it landed right beneath Daryl's bottom lip and a pink tongue sweeped out to submissively lick it off. He cursed, holding Daryl by the neck, pulling his lower jaw down with two fingers, and spat again, with force this time, precisely accurate into the man's mouth. "Who the fuck do you belong to. Say it."

Daryl's breath hitched and his toes curled, staring up into fiery dark eyes. "You." He felt shy saying it, a tiny part in the very back of his mind afraid that it was the wrong answer.

Negan studied the innocent, flushed face from closest distance, rubbing his fingers over the steel collar on Daryl's neck. "What am I. Tell me."

Three butterflies tried to break free, fluttering their wings at the bottom of Daryl's throat. He pulled his shoulder up to rub his ear against, bravely holding eye contact. "Owner." It was a quiet answer in rough, insecure tone, but Negan seemed to love it anyway.

He held the firm stare a moment longer then leaned in for a ravishing kiss, keeping his eyes open and fingers tightly on warmed-up steel. Then moved down, biting a jawbone, licking broad and wet over a collared neck, nipping a hard nipple, licking a trail down a heaving chest, catching the tip of a throbbing cock between his lips, sucking it for a moment, chuckled when Daryl's back arched and his hips jolted, then licked the man's balls, sucked them into his mouth, and finally put his hands broad and heavy onto the insides of trembling thighs. He pressed them down with force, held them open almost painfully, as he plunged his tongue into the pulsing pink, wet hole he had created earlier. He heard Daryl mewl and sob, felt him writhe and buck his hips, and it spurred him on to intensify his efforts, dig his tongue deeper, nip and slurp the tender flesh, and groan in pure satisfaction when Daryl held his breath and pushed out, right against his mouth, in search for more.

A devilish smirk curled around Negan's lips, he licked his loosened-up creation once more, nipped the sensitive skin between the man's entrance and balls, and knelt up, spreading his own knees wider for a secure position, as he fished for the lubricant container and generously spread the thick fluid around his hand, fingers and wrist, making the dark hair on his arm stick to his skin.

Daryl watched, breathing heavily. He wanted to lick the shiny wet black glove, all the prominent veins and armhair, he wanted to feel long fingers down his throat and a hard penis up his bum. He wanted to ask for it all, but in the end he just flung an arm across his sweaty face, covering his eyes with it, as he reached down to stroke himself because the fire and sizzling in his lower belly became just too much.

"No!"

A dull pain made him flinch and wail two seconds later, when his balls were slapped. He pulled his hand off his length and instead fisted it into the thick towels covering the bed.

"Keep your hands off your fucking dick, boy!"

Daryl squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head to the side, whimpering, searching for some relief, and then was instantly distracted when intense pressure stretched his insides, four fingers, side by side, working their way into his willing opening, being turned and twisted.

The low keening sounds Negan heard, were music to his ears. He circled his fingers in both directions, moved them back and forth, stroking the sensitive flesh in wave-like motions, loving the sight of black latex inside the pulsing entrance. He pulled them back out, applied even more lube, and folded his hand into a wedge shape, laying his thumb alongside his middle finger, and very carefully pushed, not using any force. "You wanna push against me, boy." He put his free hand flat on Daryl's lower belly, pressing down slightly, while twisting his wrist, cautiously working his knuckles through the slick ring of muscle. "Such a good job, Daryl, take a deep breath for me." His tone was clear and calm, providing sympathy and comfort. He felt tension, pulled back, massaged more lube into the man's crack and tried again, inserted his bundle of fingers, then slowly pushed, twisting his knuckles in, little by little, with experienced movements, letting them naturally slide in. "You're doing awesome, sweetheart." A wave of overwhelming arousal swashed through his body, seeing the pink flesh being stretched around the widest part of his black, gloved hand for a very short moment, before it disappeared completely inside, and the twitching muscle gripped his wrist.

Daryl tensed and panicked, his breath coming in short panting gasps. For a brief moment, it felt impossibly big, like it would rip him in half. He wanted it to stop and show his signal, hide between Negan's legs, or underneath the bed. He wasn't sure if he was in pain or not, sweat breaking out all over his trembling body, as he tried to figure out what to do or think. But then the hot burning and horrible pressure suddenly stopped like someone had flipped a switch, and it all was replaced by a strange feeling of relief, and the throbbing intensity of being completely filled up. He whimpered quietly, opened his eyes, squeezed them shut again, felt dizzy and didn't dare to move, just focused on the big, safe hand stroking his belly, and the deep, steady voice showering him with praise and comfort.

"Are you doing so good for me." Negan's voice was calm and encouraging, dripping with pride and affection. "On the second try, right? What a fucking great job." He held his gloved hand perfectly still, swirling his fingertips around Daryl's belly button in tiny soothing circles, as he watched closely for any sign of discomfort or pain, patiently giving time to adjust, before he gently started to stroke the man's erection. "You want to relax for me, boy. I want to hear you breathing." He waited a moment, seeing the man's thighs and arms go limp, and slowly curled up his fingers inside the tight, clenching heat, forming a fist, that he carefully twisted, just an inch in each direction, held still and then did it again, letting the tips of his knuckles roll across the most sensitive area.

Daryl arched his back, his lips parting, as bumps of pure pleasure exploded inside him. His mind went blank, not sure what was happening. He felt like floating, his body slack and boneless, passively being rocked back and forth with the gentle force consuming his entire insides.

Negan listened to the man's deep breathing, ragged and raw, turned his hand, feeling it slide farther in, and carefully moved it back and forth a bit. He waved his fingers with slight pressure, producing wet squelching sounds, that made his own dick leak inside his pants. He heard Daryl groan and grunt, saw him writhe and crane his head back, watched the black rim of his glove as it disappeared again and again inside the pink flesh with wet sucking noises, as he twisted his whole arm in masterful expertise.

Daryl exhaled a sobbed huff of breath. Streams of pre-cum oozing from his twitching cock. It ran down his belly, over his side, to be soaked up by a thick towel. He felt high and so full. Like he should do something or just split into a million pieces. The glowing, overwhelming buzz in his lower abdomen was different from anything else he had ever felt, and spread through all his nerves, into every niche and curve of his body. It was incredible and scary and all of a sudden became far too much, when hot lava gathered in one spot somewhere deep inside him, making his spine prickle and breath hitch. He wanted to hide under a blanket, thinking he might have to cry or pee or both, and gasped, the muscles in his thighs jerking.

"Good boy." Negan cooed, his voice soft and low, as he moved over Daryl, his gloved hand securely in place inside the man's clenching flesh. "Are you so very beautiful for me? Tell me." Poised above a flushed, sweat-damp face, propped on one arm, he rippled his knuckles along the man's prostate, admiring every emotion in dazed eyes with rapt wonder. "Hm? Tell me all about it puppy." He smiled slightly at the misery and ecstasy, both clearly visible on innocent features, knowing his sub was in a post-verbal state, far away on another planet, where nothing mattered but the showers of dopamine and endorphins. "You wanna cum for me, right? Make such a sweet puddle just for me." He leaned down, brushing his lips over a hot, trembling mouth. "Go on, do it, show me how much you like me." He stared firmly into Daryl's eyes, as he twisted his wrist one last time, rocking it slightly back and forth, and watched as every last bit of control left the man's mind and body. Watched him choke on the sob that tried to come out of his throat. Watched the shock, incomprehension and total bliss displayed in blue eyes, before heavy lids fluttered shut. Watched Daryl climax on his hand, deeply buried in his personal pulsing, throbbing heaven.

----

On a rainy afternoon, on Sunday the 22nd of February, Daryl sat on Negan's lap, chest to chest, wearing comfy pajama bottoms with dinosaur print, and a shirt with far too long sleeves. He felt tired, relaxed, and totally satiated. Wanting nothing but to fall asleep. Right where he was, two strong arms around him, listening to a steady heartbeat.

A show about motorcycles was on TV and he had permission to watch it, but he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes.

"Are you still hungry?" Negan brushed his bearded chin over the top of Daryl's head, feeling kind of lazy and amazingly satisfied. "There's more chicken." He glanced at the coffee table with a dozen of boxes from Savi Provisions, most of them empty, as Daryl had gobbled down his lunch like he had been starved for days.

Daryl put his fingers two inches higher on a bare chest, petting the dark hair he found. "No."

Negan squinted, looking down. "What do you wanna say, puppy."

The deep rumbling voice sounded wonderful, vibrating against the side of Daryl's face. He turned his head, digging his nose into warm skin. "No, thank you." He mumbled his improved answer in a rough voice, sounding neither especially friendly nor polite. But Negan seemed to like it anyway, patting firm butt cheeks, then gently rubbed the hidden crack between.

"Good boy."

"Yes." Daryl whispered his small reply, feeling warm, happy and very proud. Because it was the truth.

----

Negan glanced at the sleeping figure next to him on the couch, combed a hand through tousled hair, and got up with a sigh, when someone knocked at 7:18 PM. He stretched his tired back, rolled his shoulders, fished a slice of cucumber out of a salad container, popped it into his mouth, and went to answer the door.

Jesus smiled brightly, seeing one of his Dads in nothing but black denims, chewing a crunchy piece of vegetable. "Good evening, Sir." He batted his eyelashes, then got on his tiptoes to kiss a bearded cheek. "I'm here to help you pack." He put his arms around Negan's neck, scrutinizing the man's face suspiciously. He knew that contented look. After a moment he sniffed a big hand and fine dark hair on a slender wrist. He squinted an eye.

The tip of Negan's tongue poked out between his lips, with a wag of his eyebrows.

"Oh my God, that's so hot!" Paul felt his dick twitch, pictures of an ecstatic Daryl with a black fist up his sweet bum popping up in his head. He went back on his toes, kissing Negan's lips. "I hope you took a photo for me."

Negan chuckled, slapped the back of Paul's head and went back inside. "Get to work, bugger. Don't forget my fucking toothbrush."

Chapter Text

It was not a long trip from the airport to Port Everglades, but after a very short night and exhausting traveling all morning, Daryl had dozed off in the car anyway. So, when the passenger door opened and he was supposed to get out, he had trouble keeping his eyes open and orientate himself in the new, strange environment.

It was almost 80 degrees and he wrinkled his nose, as warm sun and a fresh breeze found his face. He looked around seeing palm trees behind him and then squinted up the huge, white metal building right in front of him, with hundreds of tiny windows and balconies.

"Helloooo sailor..." Jesus slid his shades down his nose, peering over the rims, as an attractive man with silvery hair and impressive upper arms walked by with a pink carry-on suitcase.

"Stop gawking." Rick thrust a bag with his most important toiletries into his boyfriend's arms. "Help with the luggage." He wasn't in the best mood, since Pedro from the airport shuttle service had hit the brakes for a low-flying jaybird, and therefore was responsible for half a liter of milk coffee on a brand new, bright blue denim shirt.

"Really, Rick?" Negan looked blankly at the big, brown stain on his employee's shirt. "Can't take you anywhere." He grabbed a leather duffle bag, took his sunglasses off to put them on Daryl's nose, then snapped his fingers, and left for the cruise terminal. "Chop, chop boys. Fucking ship won't wait for your lazy asses."  

----

As a high-status, suite guest, Negan enjoyed a myriad of special privileges and upgraded amenities, for the whole cruise and of course the precursory embarkation process. Such as shorter lines at the security screening, priority check-in, and a separate waiting area. He appreciated that. It gave him time to go through some e-mails and call his store manager in Amsterdam.

"What do you mean there was a fucking fire!" He put the phone between ear and shoulder, handing Rick and Paul their cruise cards. "Well, I don't care! Send me a fucking damage report!" He grabbed his bag and snapped his fingers. "Of course fucking now!"

Daryl flicked some long strands of hair out of his face and nervously followed a very tall, very angry man out of the big open-spaced room, along endless hallways with red carpeting, up an escalator, through a weird, long glass tunnel, around the corner, where they stopped because Negan put a plastic card into a slot at the wall, then a second one, it made a beeping sound for both, and a brightly smiling lady in uniform handed over a folded map and colorfully illustrated schedule, telling him a friendly 'Welcome, Sir!'

Daryl gave her a suspicious look when she said the same to him, grumbled a gruff 'Hello' in return and followed Negan through another broad passageway into a huge, busy building that looked like a very fancy shopping mall. He froze in place for a moment, not sure what Negan wanted to buy now.

"Sweet." Paul took his sunglasses off, obviously impressed by his surroundings, then kissed Daryl's cheek. "I hope we are cabin buddies." He huffed a laugh when his ear was grabbed and he was dragged along by his annoyed boyfriend, who had trouble reading the ship map and finding the right deck.

"Daryl." Negan put his phone into his pocket and snapped his fingers to get full attention. "You wanna focus, right?" He gave his sub a brief smile, then made his way through crowds of happy, excited people, stopped twice for a selfie with fans, went up the stairs and finally entered an elevator. It was made of glass and greeted him in the same friendly manner as the uniform lady had done it.

Daryl wrapped an arm across his chest, not liking it at all. The elevator went up pretty fast and he felt dizzy when he looked down.

The friendly voice announced that they had reached deck 14 and the doors opened.

Daryl wanted to take Negan's hand and ask where Paul suddenly was and whether they would buy new pants now. But he didn't do it, and just followed through endless hallways again. The carpeting was blue this time and there were a lot of doors and fancy framed artwork left and right, like at the hotel in Washington.

Negan stopped in front of one with the number 14244, did something with the beeping card that Daryl couldn't see, opened, and went in.

Daryl hesitated a few seconds until he heard a snap of fingers. He sniffed his nose. It was a hotel suite. A big one with two rooms, thick carpet, nice couch and a huge bed. It had flatscreen TV's and a dining area, with a bowl of fresh fruit on the table. Daryl stayed close to the door and wrapped the arm tighter across his chest, not sure what they wanted here.

Negan put his bag down. "Close the door, please."

Daryl did. Then watched when Negan opened his bag and started to unpack a few things. "Why are we here." His question sounded gruff and irritated, but Negan answered patiently anyway.

"That's our room. We sleep here while I work."

Daryl blinked through his borrowed sunglasses. "When are we goin' on the ship."

Negan frowned just for a second, then looked up with a straight face, walking towards Daryl. "When are we going on the ship?" He took his expensive shades off the man's nose and threw them blindly on the couch. "We boarded already. This is the ship. Right?" Blue eyes stared at him in confusion, then darted nervously from left to right, before they squinted at him in slight anger. Negan arched his brows, smiling. "Does it not look like a ship, grumpy puppy?"  

Daryl didn't know what to say and he didn't want to answer. He felt tricked and embarrassed, and a little bit scared.

Negan let it slip. "Go, open the balcony door for me." He pointed to the glass door he meant, and went back to unpack his personal belongings, not saying anything when Daryl needed almost a minute to find the courage to follow the order, and then another 46 seconds to figure out how the door handle worked.

Daryl pulled it a few inches open and stared through the pane. He couldn't see water. Just the palm trees and the place where they had arrived. Behind that were cars, buses, huge containers and several cranes.

"Go outside." Negan came up behind him and fully opened the sliding door. "That's the port." He shoved Daryl out into the open and up to the balcony parapet, encouraging him to look down and to both sides. "We're on deck fourteen of the cruise ship."

Daryl tensed. There were hundreds of other balconies beneath them and actual water when he looked to the right. Small boats and a bigger green ship with dozens of containers on top. Still, it felt like he was in a very big apartment building.

"They wait until everyone's on board, then we'll start." Negan patted Daryl's butt, then went back inside.

Daryl sniffed his nose, twice, wondering if there was water beneath them right now, and how deep the ocean was. It was an unsettling thought and he followed Negan inside and shut the door, hoping it was waterproof in case the ship would sink.

----

It turned out, that the huge shopping center-apartment building was in fact a real ship. With restaurants, shops, a park, swimming pools, 18 decks high and 363 meters long. Negan had shown it to Daryl on the computer, with pictures that proved that the whole thing really looked like a big house from the outside, and like a small town from the inside.
It also had a really interesting technology behind it, with big engines and ship propellers. Daryl thought that was pretty cool. And he was just halfway through an animated video on YouTube that explained how the ship was built and worked, when someone knocked at the door.

It was Paul, with his hair up in a bun and mirrored sunglasses on his nose, smelling like a coconut. "Ready for some binge tanning, Sir?"

"We're here to work." Negan took the man's Ray Ban's off. "And why the fuck are you not unpacking."

Jesus smiled and kissed one of his Dads on the upper arm, as he entered the room. "The steward said the luggage will be delivered in a couple of hours. That gives me some precious free time on the lido deck."

Negan didn't think so and pulled a bottle of Lysol out of his carry-on bag. "Or it gives you the precious opportunity to kill all the germs in my fucking bathroom."

Paul didn't lose his friendly smile. "That's good as well." He grabbed the sanitizer and disappeared into the suite's posh bathroom.

Two minutes later, Daryl's head shot up on his place on the couch, when a violent sound came out of the washroom, something between an industrial vacuum and a jet engine, followed by Paul's alarmed voice.

"Man, don't sit on the potty while you flush, it sucks your balls right into the ocean!"

----

At 4:33 in the afternoon, even before the majestic ship had left the port, Daryl Dixon was done with the concept of cruising and ready to go back home, after an ear-piercing alarm had called 5479 mostly gay passengers to a muster drill, where they got explained in detail how their life on sea could come to a tragic end in the 'unlikely event of an emergency'.  And apparently, all that was offered to prevent a journey to the heavens, was an orange vest with attached light and whistle.

Daryl really wanted to go back to the safe factory, where things like life jackets, rescue boats and ear-deafening emergency alarms were non-existent.

"So, is it still women and children first on a sinking ship?" Jesus walked behind two of his Dads through the endless corridors, confusedly pulling at the black straps of his life vest. "I mean that's kinda inconvenient on a gay cruise, right?" He wrapped one of the straps behind his back, but then found it too short to be closed in the front. "Except they count everyone with wigs and make-up."

Daryl shook his head, pointing at the tall man and his employee, leading the way. "'s them first." He was pretty sure that was true. At least he hoped that there was an extra safe lifeboat just for important people like the tall angry man.

Jesus chuckled. "They go last. Just like the captain."

"No." Daryl's objection was gruff and almost angry. He couldn't believe that Paul said something like that and shot him an accusing glare. "That's bullshit."

Negan sighed, stopped in the middle of the corridor and turned around, patiently fastening the straps of Paul's life jacket. Pulling them maybe a little too tight. "If this fucking thing sinks, you can bet your bubble butt that I won't stay with the captain. I'll clock him one, get my fucking money back, put my boys into a damn boat, and get the hell outta here, because somebody has to make sure that they fucking behave for the rest of their life. Right?"

Paul gasped as the tight straps squeezed all the oxygen out of his lungs for a second. "Right, Sir."

"Hm." Negan offered a contented nod, patting Paul's cheek. "Now go give your man a nice massage and rest a little until dinner. Will be a long night."

----

Napping on a cruise ship was nerve-wracking. Daryl tried several times to shut his eyes and rest as he was supposed to, but every time he tried, there was a new noise. Creaking, buzzing, footsteps in the hallway, someone yelling, someone laughing, knocking at the door when the suitcases were delivered, and the booming voice of the cruise director making announcements over the speakers like an omnipresent divinity. He also had the constant feeling that they were moving and it made him nervous. Maybe they were on the ocean already with no land in sight. He looked over to the wardrobe where the orange life vests were stored. He wished they could wear them all the time and wait next to the lifeboats until the ship arrived at the port again.

He also wished Negan would be in bed, next to him. But he wasn't. He was outside on the balcony, sitting in one of the lounge chairs, working on his computer.

Daryl sniffed his nose, hesitated a moment, and then climbed out of bed and on the second try, managed to pull the sliding door open. The port was still there.

Negan didn't look up from his screen, but snapped his fingers, pointing two down, right next to his chair.

Daryl felt better immediately. He crouched down on the wooden ground and wasn't corrected when he didn't get into his usual kneeling posture. So he slid closer to the chair and put his head to the side of Negan's chest. He stayed like that for almost two minutes, then heard a sigh, and noticed the laptop being shut and put away. It made his stomach tingle.

"You didn't sleep." Negan combed his fingers through tousled hair, sounding tired.

Daryl dug his nose into the soft fabric of Negan's shirt, loving the smell so much, it made his chest ache.  "You can."

A smile flickered across Negan's face. "I should. But it's almost time for dinner, and after that, I have to attend the first party." He shook his head, tickling the back of Daryl's collared neck. "Will be a damn long cruise." He really didn't look forward to all the drunk party folks. He was too old for that shit.

"Yes." Daryl was glad that the tall angry man sounded a bit annoyed as well. Cruise ships were really not a very good place to work.

"It's a good thing that I have my very own puppy here, right? Keeping me company."

"Hm." A big hand with long fingers, beautiful veins standing out and fine, dark hair all over, rested on a flat stomach. Daryl stared at it for a moment, then brushed his lips against the warm skin. There was a black rubber bracelet around Negan's wrist. It was new and looked like a watch, but instead of a clock-face, it had a white picture of an anchor and a crown. Daryl liked it. Negan really was like a king.   

"Right." Negan sat up, causing Daryl to do the same. "Show me your arm." He reached for something on the small, round side table. It was another silicone bracelet.

Daryl watched as it was fastened around his wrist. It had an anchor and crown picture as well.

"It's your key for the room." Negan tapped on the widest part of the rubber band. "You just hold it to the door reader."

Daryl touched it. On the side, it said 'muster station C2'. He knew what that meant. The people at the safety briefing had told the passengers to come to the muster station in case of an emergency. He sniffed his nose and checked the side of Negan's band. It said C2 as well. "We have the same."

"We do have the same." Negan kept a straight face when the man next to his chair sounded very relieved. "Owners don't leave the fucking ship without their puppy, right?" He pinched Daryl's chin. "But there won't be an emergency, because that would be fucking annoying and I have no time for that shit."

Daryl nodded. That was true.

"Right." Negan pointed at the rubber band again. "It's your room key and you pay with it. You can't buy anything with money on the ship. You have to use this."

Daryl looked at his new accessory, wishing Merle had one as well.

"Most things are for free here. Almost all the food and drinks. But that doesn't mean that you don't have to ask before you take something. Right?" Negan arched his brows. "Who do you have to ask before you take anything? Tell me."

Daryl sniffed his nose, flicking a stray strand of hair to the side. "The captain." It was his ship after all.

Negan squinted. "Fuck the captain! Who do you wanna ask, boy?"

Daryl pointed an unsure finger at the tall angry man. "You."

"Damn well right you wanna ask me." Negan nodded, glad that the rank order was re-established. "You also wanna go unpacking. Clothes on the hanger, crops with the handle up, gloves and lube into the nightstand, squares on the cabin door, fucking puppy treasures underneath the pillow. Then you may serve me in the bathroom." He watched as his sub disappeared obediently back into the stateroom, then grabbed his welcome drink off the table, shaking his head. "The fucking captain he wants to ask."

----

At almost seven in the early evening, a tall handsome passenger, who currently lived in one of the ship's high-priority guest suites, stepped out of the elevator on deck 6, accompanied by a young man with slightly tousled hair. They were both sporting smart casual outfits for the first evening on board. Negan with his hair slicked back, wearing perfectly fitting blue denims and a white button-down shirt, complimenting his well-toned chest. He kept it as casual as possible with his sleeves rolled up and the top button undone, allowing some chest hair to peek out.

Daryl wore a pair of jeans as well, but with a light navy crew-neck sweater. It wasn't his own and a bit baggy, with too long sleeves, covering his hands up to the knuckles. But it smelled fantastic like tall angry man, and was incredibly soft, that's why he raised his shoulder for the seventh time in the last ten minutes, just to rub his cheek against.

He followed Negan around the corner, past a noble spa, through a crowded lobby, stopped when a group of men from the Netherlands asked for a picture with Negan, then stopped again after three steps when a single man from Hungary did the same, looked back over his shoulder to throw him a death stare for telling Negan 'I love you', and then was hit by a breeze of mild, fresh air and very pleasant food smells, when huge automatic doors opened and they went out on the Boardwalk.

Negan snapped his fingers and held his hand behind his back because the outside area was much more crowded than he had expected. He grabbed Daryl's wrist, then entwined their fingers, and stopped again after just a few steps, for two selfies with fans and a kiss on the cheek for a teary-eyed man from New York, who couldn't believe that he had the opportunity to see the godlike Negan in real life.

Daryl scowled at the young man. But just for a second, because the long fingers holding his hand squeezed him in a warning. Before he was dragged along, past a Hot Dog station, a Starbucks, a real carousel, and some stores for clothes, souvenirs and accessories. There was music everywhere and a lot of men in summer outfits, eating, laughing and chatting. And again, nothing here looked like a ship, but very much like a huge shopping mall.

Daryl sniffed to the right, as they walked past a Johnny Rockets and the delicious smell of fries and burgers reached his nostrils. He was really hungry. And brave enough to tug Negan's hand, but didn't get to ask his question, because Negan answered it already, like a mind reader.

"We eat at a different restaurant tonight. With Rick and Paul."

Daryl had forgotten about that. And then even forgot his rumbling belly, when he discovered a blue-yellow entrance with the huge word ARCADE over the door. He craned his neck as they walked past it and tried to see through the windows. There were racing games and air hockey tables. And several awesome pinball machines. But he didn't dare to tug Negan's hand again. He didn't have to.

"You can go there tomorrow while I have to work." Negan squeezed Daryl's hand again, but affectionately this time, and pulled him a little closer to make them walk side by side.

Daryl glanced up and a butterfly poked his empty stomach. They looked almost like a couple. Like the boyfriends at the Eagle, or all the men holding hands here on the shopping center-ship.   

"You like my awesome sweater?" Negan rubbed his thumb over the back of Daryl's hand, as he walked them past a set of gigantic purple tube slides, that went through several decks of the ship.

"Hm." Daryl liked it very much. And holding hands. "Yes."

"You should keep it. You look fucking hot." Negan ignored the fans from Russia who snapped a few photos of him without asking, and instead nudged Daryl's shoulder. "You wanna try that?" He gestured to a very high rock climbing wall.

Daryl squinted up. "Okay." He could do that. He was very good at climbing.

Negan chuckled at the man's unimpressed attitude. "Good. Not now though. You wanna watch the sail-away, right?"

"Hm." Daryl grimaced as he looked around and realized that it suddenly didn't look like a shopping mall anymore. There was a huge anchor and crown picture over what seemed to be a stage, with high metal posts and white metal ropes, and to the left and right were metal railings and the ship just stopped. It was the end, the very back part, and after that was water. And the port, with its cranes and smaller boats and containers, but all of it in quite a distance by now.

Negan guided him to the left, a few stairs down, a small ascent up, past the huge stage thing, and stopped at the white metal railing, at the very end of the ship. "We get navigated out of the port. You can take a picture."   

Daryl felt ill instantly. They were really moving. He could hear the loud engines and felt vibrations underneath his feet. It was almost sunset and the wind was stronger, ruffling his hair. He held on to the wooden handrail of the railing and looked down into the water. A very long way down, like he was standing on a high tower. And the water he saw didn't look like the blue ocean he knew from pictures or TV. It was almost black, and the huge ship plowed a broad trail through it, where it looked white and wild like it was boiling. He stepped back and pulled Negan's sleeve to make him stand at a safe distance from the horrible ocean water. And then he flinched when a very loud horn blasted, from somewhere above, louder than anything he had ever heard before.

"It's the ship horn. It means we're leaving." Negan smirked as he saw Daryl's shocked expression, obviously not enjoying the experience. "No fucking photo? You wanna go eat dinner and watch from the window?"

Daryl wanted to go back on land and watch from the pier. But that would probably not happen, that's why he nodded and again pulled Negan's arm, because he was standing terribly close to the ridiculous thin metal railing, that was the only barrier between the tall angry man and a certain death by falling into black boiling water.    

Negan arched his brows. "One!" then took Daryl's hand and made his way back to the ship's insides. "Don't think I won't put you on time out just because we're at fucking sea, boy."

----

The spectacular three-level main dining room was nothing but a blend of clinking plates, glasses and silverware, and hundreds of voices talking in different languages and accents, staff buzzing around between the tables with big friendly smiles, juggling even bigger plates to serve their guests. It could be quite overwhelming if one wasn't considered a high-priority guest and therefore was seated in one of the more private Séparées, secluded from the big crowds by thick red curtains.

Orhan, a young man from Turkey, was the personal waiter for table number 108 and did his best to deliver his most upbeat, attentive service to his new guests.

"Sauteed scallops with parsley and garlic." He smiled, one hand behind his back, as he placed a warm plate in front of Mister Rovia, who looked spiffy in his seersucker summer suit.

"Awesome." Jesus tucked his long hair behind his ears and instantly started to dig into his food. He could have eaten a whole cow by that point. "Thanks, man."

Negan put his wine glass down. "That's not what you want to say."

Paul pulled the fork back out of his mouth and glanced up sheepishly at the waiter. "Thank you, Orhan. Looks great."

"That's better." Negan sprinkled a pinch of salt on his salad. "Chew properly." He nodded at Paul and then held a piece of bread out for the man on the window seat. "Boy. Eat."

Daryl didn't react. He stared out of the large pane, in a mixture of horror and fascination, as the last bit of land disappeared and all that was left to see was water. Not the nice warm, translucent kind that came out of the tap, but grey, scary water that was everywhere. It looked cold and dramatic, with small waves on the surface, giving no indication of how deep it was or what lived inside. Daryl had never seen so much of anything in one place. It looked like the end of the world, and not in a good way.

Negan snapped his fingers next to a pale ear that poked out between long strands of hair and then studied the man's face as he turned around, unsettled and anxious. "Are you feeling ill?"

Daryl wasn't sure. His stomach felt kind of numb and tight and he had the constant impression that the whole building-ship was moving. He didn't like it and didn't know what to say. He wanted to leave the ship and the horrible ocean.

The miserable look out of blue eyes, let Negan decide against a second strike and conventional time out, and instead opted for good old distraction. "Well, if you're not sick you might as well serve me." He put his plate in front of Daryl on the table. "Cut my steak. Nice even pieces."

Daryl looked at the plate and then at Negan. He was never before asked to do that. But maybe Negan was really tired, so he took the heavy silver knife and fork from his bright white cloth napkin and hesitantly started to cut the meat, doing his best to make all the pieces the same size. After the seventh piece, his stomach rumbled, reminding him that he was actually hungry. After the tenth piece, he glanced over at Negan, with a quiet question. "Can I one."

"May you have a bite of my fucking dinner?" Negan took his plate back and shoved a raisin between pale pink lips because he liked the way his steak was cut. "What do I get in return."

Daryl sniffed his nose and looked around on the table. He found his own plate with spaghetti but he knew that Negan wouldn't want real pasta noodles. So he fished the raisin back out of his mouth and held it out with two fingers. A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth when Negan cocked an eyebrow at him before he ate it, scraping perfect white teeth over his fingertips.

"Good trade." Negan purred and fed his sub a piece of meat. Then another one, and a fork full of rolled-up pasta after that, making sure the attention was on him and the food instead of the window and everything behind.

"You know, he could eat alone." Rick just briefly glanced up from his phone, as he typed the twelfth text message to Shane, trying to work out their current relationship status. It was difficult with his new smartphone. It had no actual buttons and he needed three times longer than usual to compose a word.

"He can." Negan agreed, putting more spaghetti into Daryl's mouth. "Other than you, I guess." He gestured to the untouched plate of spinach risotto on his employee's place. "Must be one hell of a story he's telling you."

Rick squinted and put his phone down. "He's upset that I didn't ask him about the cruise."

"And I am upset that they stopped selling my favorite brand of fucking dishwasher salt." Negan waved two fingers at Rick's cold food. "Eat. I pay for this shit."

Rick sent a venomous look across the table, but took his fork and started eating anyway. "The promoter pays for this shit."

"In exchange for my fucking hard work." Negan clarified, feeding his sub another piece of meat. "Right puppy? It's fucking nice of me that I work for the awesome food on your plate."

"Hm." Daryl nodded with full cheeks. It really was fucking nice.

"Hey, I cleaned your bathroom." Jesus wiped the rest of the sauce out of his plate with a piece of bread. "Does that mean I get dessert?"

"You bet your ass, you get fucking dessert." Negan confirmed, feeding Daryl more pasta. "You may share one with my puppyboy, since you both served me so nicely today." He loved the small glint of pride and happiness flickering instantly through blue eyes. "Right? Time to treat my boys."

----

Finding treats on a cruise ship wasn't hard to accomplish. There were waffles, pastries, pudding, candy and 124 different types of cake to choose from, completely free, all over the place. Just like ice cream stations, which Daryl liked best, because they were self-serving and he didn't have to talk to anyone to order. He could just grab a cone and push a button.

And Negan had let him, even though his germ alarm went off as he thought of the thousands of people who had touched this thing all day long. The sight of his boys strolling over the nightly ship's promenade, taking turns to have a lick, was worth the risk.

He took a picture for his personal collection, then put a hand to the small of Rick's back, leaning in for a few private words. "Go wait with them near the stage until I'm done."

The big Sail-Away party, was the first of many for the Gays and Friends Cruise 2017, and was held open air on the lido deck. The space around the two main pools and the round dance floor in the middle was absolutely packed with men of all ages, most of them sporting a bare chest, as they danced in the flickering lights. Behind the pool area was a stage, hovering 10 feet over the ground, like a balcony, where a man in a glittery dress and beautiful make-up, welcomed the new passengers on board, told them about some of the highlights for the next days and wished them an awesome time, before giving the stage over to a group of dancers dressed like the Village People.

Jesus threw his arms in the air just like the rest of the crowd, as soon as the first beats of YMCA boomed through the speakers to pump up the wild atmosphere to a 110% and make the ground vibrate.      

Daryl looked around, blinking through his long bangs, not sure how he got suddenly on a party. He glanced back over his shoulder at the almost empty promenade, searching for a tall man with a pretty white shirt, but there was only the cowboy-boots-guy, who was typing a message on his phone.

"Come, we go over there, he will be on stage!" Paul yelled over the loud music, showing the brightest smile ever, as he took Daryl by the hand and dragged him through the masses of happily moving bodies. He was absolutely in his element and couldn't believe how cool this cruise was. It definitely wasn't anything like The Love Boat, which one of his Dads always watched on TV.  

Daryl followed stiffly, squinting against the flickering laser lights, as he held his dripping ice cream cone close to his chest, trying not to stain Negan's wonderful sweater. The men around him started cheering and jumping, forming letters with their arms, while they shouted the lyrics of the song into the mild night air. He really didn't like this cruise ship. It was worse than the Eagle on underwear night.

" JESUS!" A guy in neon green bathing shorts and a very muscular chest recognized Mister Rovia and used the opportunity to grab his butt, before three others decided to hug him without consent, and a travel group from Honduras held their phones in front of Paul's face for a souvenir photo.

Paul smiled, trying to stay upright in the crush of people, everybody pushing and shoving to have a look, especially when instantly the false rumor spread that Negan himself would be on the dance floor, together with his subs.

"DARYL! CAN I TAKE A PICTURE!"

Daryl didn't even know who had asked, because a hundred strangers looked at him, touched his arms and back, and after twenty seconds made him drop the rest of his ice cream, when the jostle got too much.

"Okay guys, let them through!" Rick pushed a way through the crowd, and stretched his arms out, to the left and right from Daryl, shielding him as he guided him through the masses, while Paul did a good job of shoveling himself free, generously hugging some people or posing for selfies.

"What an awesome party!" He jumped on the spot, grinning widely. His hair was a bit tousled, and a smudge of glitter had found the way on his glowing cheek, but he had the time of his life, shaking his booty in front of the stage.

Daryl grimaced and pulled his shoulders up, standing between Rick's protective arms, as somewhere on the right a confetti cannon exploded. He really wanted to know where Negan was. "Where's Negan." He turned around, avoiding his eyes as he asked the cowboy-boots-guy his grumpy question, and then glared at a man with a neon pink wig, who shouted 'NEGAN'S BOY!' at the top of his lungs and attempted to kiss his cheek.

Rick shoved the man off, as politely as possible. "He's backstage. Just wait a moment." He leaned in close to Daryl to be heard over the loud music, noticing that the man smelled like a Negan double, and sniffed a second time, just because it was a really nice surprise.

Paul held his right arm up, rotating it in sync with his hips, shamelessly dancing with an attractive passenger from Sweden, before he changed directions and danced right in front of Daryl and Rick, presenting a sweet smile. "You lost our ice cream." He tilted his head at the unhappy look he received and licked Daryl's lips. They tasted like chocolate and vanilla, were kinda cold and after two seconds of hesitation parted for him, to let his tongue through. He sighed when he found warm, wet silk inside and wrapped himself around Daryl's body, intensifying his efforts. He heard his name being chanted in a Mexican accent, heard some 'Woohoo's', and one of his Dads saying something, but didn't care because Daryl innocently kissed back, despite the loud music and vibrant party atmosphere around.    

Daryl slid shy fingers along Paul's cheek underneath long hair and leaned a little closer because the kiss was really nice. And then suddenly the loud music and all the dancing  stopped, whereas the excitement and cheering reached new levels, getting ear-deafening, as people applauded and hollered because a stunning, tall man had entered the stage, calm and confidently, overlooking the entire scene from above, as if the whole ship was his own.

"Uuuh Daddy arrived." Paul purred against Daryl's lips like a big kitten, licked them a last time, and then turned around, to watch one of the special people in his life enchanting the masses.

"Good evening." A deep, rumbling voice rolled through the speakers, turning the frenetic cheers and applause into excited whispers, making everyone stand at attention with their smartphone held up for a picture or short video clip of the most beautiful man in the Gay world. "That's a fucking rowdy party. Did you know I was coming?" Negan got hollers of joy for his question and then spotted his employee front row, trying his best to shield a nervous Daryl from the partying masses. He locked eyes with his insecure sub, flashing a disarming, self-assured smile, with just a dash of cockiness mixed in. "I have to say, the view from this stage is really nice. Some fucking hot guys on this damn cruise." The audience freaked out, especially when Negan winked in the most sexy way and made a short pause, chuckling low in his throat, before he started to speak about all the awesomeness waiting for the passengers on this cruise, his personal mission as Mister Leather, and where he could be found the next days.

Daryl stared up at Negan, totally spellbound. He looked like a mighty king, bathed in spotlight, that made dark eyes shine and accentuated the clean-cut, sharp features of his flawless face. He was really very pretty. And the deep, steady voice Daryl loved so much sounded even more powerful through the microphone. It was everywhere around him and vibrated through the ground and the soles of his feet, up his entire body. He wanted to sit down to feel more of it, but the Cowboy-boots-guy held him upright.

Negan threw a black water ball with the leather factory logo into the crowd, as the music started again. "Alright folks, I expect you all to do SOME FUCKING NAUGHTY THINGS TONIGHT! Break in those cabins fucking appropriately! You wanna make Daddy proud!" The crowd went nuts, clapping, whistling and cheering, screaming Negan's name and sexual propositions, as the man of their wet dreams left the stage with a last wave and cocky grin.

"You heard it, Sir... it's naughty time tonight." Jesus purred, dancing to Rick's side, kissing his shoulder with an enticing roll of his hips. Seeing Negan play with the audience never failed to make him wet.   

----

The cruise line provided a private sun deck in the upper parts of the ship for the celebrity and suite guests, with outdoor jacuzzis and lounge chairs, that were accessible at all times, even at almost midnight.

Jesus thought that was exceptionally cool, as he rubbed his new, bright blue bathing trunks against his boyfriend's thigh in the warm, bubbly, illuminated water while licking every inch of Rick's mouth he could possibly reach.

The young man from suite 14244 on the other hand, couldn't find anything enjoyable, kneeling outside in the dark next to Negan's deckchair, hearing the water swooshing and waves hitting the ship, but not being able to really see it. He stared at the white railing with a whole lot of scary pitch black behind, feeling the thrum of the engines faintly vibrating through the ground, even all the way up to deck 15, and really wished they could go back inside, where it didn't smell like salt and death by drowning.

"Are you cold?" Negan reached out to tickle the back of Daryl's neck, noticing how tense he was.

Daryl considered for a moment to lie and say that he was freezing, but lying was against the rules, and he wanted to make a blue mark on the 'Good list', so he turned around and tried to make his voice work. "Can we sleep." The bed was at least very close to the wardrobe with the life vests, and Negan couldn't fall into the horrible black water as long as he was in the cabin.

A slight, tired smile spread across Negan's face, seeing the worry and unease in blue eyes. "You wanna cuddle your glove in bed?"

Daryl nodded because that sounded really good. "Yes."

Negan rolled his tongue behind his lips, giving his sub a long, scrutinizing look, then a single nod, "Alright." before he got up with a sigh and snapped his fingers for Daryl to do the same. "We call it a night." He went past the hot tub, ruffling Paul's wet hair. "Breakfast at nine at the Grande."

"Yes, Sir." Paul glanced up with a seductive smirk, slowly humping his boyfriend in the water. "Sleep well."

Negan leaned in close, to speak right next to Rick's ear. "Careful. You don't wanna cum in that tub."

----

At 0:48 AM in the middle of the ocean, somewhere between Florida and Haiti, Daryl Dixon was back in his semi-safe suite, sitting in bed, trying his best to concentrate on the report he was typing, while the ship around him seemed to be very much alive. The hallways were quiet now, and he couldn't hear the water anymore. But it creaked and groaned and the faint sound of the engines was still there. He looked up, suspiciously listening to all the strange noises, wondering where they came from and what it meant.

"Boy." Negan came out of the bathroom, wearing a towel around his hips. "Report, I said. It's late." He went to the wardrobe, searching for underwear and something he could wear for the night. He could see that Daryl had done his best to store all the clothes away, but it didn't quite look like Olivia's system at home. "Where are my briefs? Did you unpack them?"

"Hm." Daryl glanced up from his phone and pointed to the other room. "Over there."

Negan squinted but didn't comment on it, and found his underwear, socks and belts, three minutes later squished in the drawer of his work desk. He carried everything back into the bedroom, to store it into the wardrobe. Then picked a couple of black bathing trunks and tossed one of them on the bed. "That's not underwear, it's for swimming. You can wear them tomorrow in the pool."

Daryl looked from the phone at Negan and then at the small piece of clothing next to him on the mattress. "Mh." He pulled his shoulder up, moving two inches in the other direction.

"What." Negan kept a straight face, decided to wear blowjob-friendly PJ bottoms without any underwear, turned around and dropped his towel. "You don't wanna wear my awesome speedos in the pool?" He enjoyed Daryl's dumbfounded expression for a moment, unashamedly fondled his flaccid dick, and waited another 20 seconds before he stepped into his loose, white pajama pants. "I'm sure you wanna answer me."

Daryl blinked through his tousled bangs, sniffing his nose. "Ain't goin' to the pool." His answer sounded more gruff than he intended. But he really wouldn't go to any silly pool and he didn't know why the tall angry man had put on pyjama pants.

"Mhm." Negan smirked faintly. "Are you done reporting?" He waved two fingers when Daryl nodded. "Give me your phone, pick up my towel, make your mark. The sharpy is on the desk."

Daryl sniffed his nose again, avoided his eyes when he handed the phone over and made sure not to touch the evil swimwear as he climbed out of bed.

Negan watched Daryl bending down to pick the towel up, thought his boy's ass looked really awesome in dinosaur-pj's, and slumped down on the bed with a sigh, making himself comfortable to read the report.

Good: - unpaking
           - cutting food
Bad:    - strike
           - i didn't see the ship
Like: Negan, treet, kissing jesus
Hate: ocean, people
Change: working on ship  

Negan pinched his nose, corrected some spelling mistakes and then switched the phone off and put it on the nightstand, listening to the squeaking sound of the pen, when too much pressure was used to mark off a square. He snapped his fingers and pointed two down as Daryl came back, with blue ink on his hand. "Kneel down for me please."

Daryl flicked his head to the side to get some hair out of his eyes, crouching down shyly in front of the bed.

"Very nice." Negan sat down on the edge of the mattress, his legs left and right from Daryl's body. "Let's talk about the report for a moment."

Daryl felt embarrassed immediately. He had probably done something wrong.

"You didn't know that we were already on the ship, because nobody told you. We boarded through a closed gangway. It doesn't look like a ship from the inside. Right?" Negan gave his sub an affirmative look. "That wasn't a bad thing and doesn't belong on the bad list. The only thing you did badly today was lacking answers. You wanna do better tomorrow."   

"Hm." Daryl fumbled with his hands behind his back, trying to hold eye contact. "Okay."

"Good. You liked when Paul kissed you at the party?"

Daryl wasn't sure what to answer and hesitantly shrugged before he added a small, "Yes." avoiding his eyes.

"Look at me." Negan waited for his order to be followed. "I saw it and I liked it very much. It's fucking hot when my boys are kissing."

A tiny smile made Daryl's lips curve. But just for a second, until Negan held the black speedo up for him to see.

"Can you swim?"

Daryl felt heat shoot up through his chest, towards his face and ears, followed by anger and a big amount of shame. "I can." He gave his answer in a defiant tone, whipped the piece of black fabric out of Negan's fingers, and threw it a few inches to the left.

"You have ten seconds to pick that up and fucking apologize."

The stern voice and more than serious look out of dark eyes, made Daryl act instantly. He took the bathing trunks and nervously folded them into an odd shape, before he handed them over with a quiet, "'m sorry."  

Negan took them with gritted teeth. "You better be fucking sorry." He put it on the nightstand. "Now tell me the truth. Do you know how to swim?"

Daryl scowled, then lowered his gaze, and after almost a full minute of watching himself pull his fingers, mumbled an angry, "No."

"You wanna put your arms behind your back." Negan kept his tone serious. "Does the ocean and the fucking ship make you uncomfortable because you can't swim?"   

Daryl shook his head, then shrugged, speaking in a low voice. "Or you fall in." He sniffed his nose, not daring to look up.

Negan snapped his fingers. "Eyes on me." He waited a moment, expecting full attention. "People do not learn how to swim on their fucking own. They need someone to show them what to do. I would know, because I am a fucking swimming instructor. I taught many people how to swim. Including Paul. Nobody taught him how to do it when he was a kid, so I did it when we met."

A glint of surprise flickered across Daryl's face. He didn't know that. He always thought Jesus could do anything because he was so very smart.

"But to survive in case of a fucking emergency on this ship, you don't have to know how to swim. You need to follow the safety instructions. You would wear your life jacket and sit in a boat. Right?" Negan arched his brows at Daryl. "You would also be next to me. It's my job to keep you safe. At home, at work, and here on a fucking cruise. If I hadn't been sure that you were absolutely safe here with me, I wouldn't have brought you here."

Daryl sniffed his nose, wanting to ask a question, but needed 12 seconds to find the courage and his voice. "What happens if you fall in." His words were rough and quiet, but he held eye contact while he asked them.

"What happens if I fall off the ship into the Atlantic ocean?" Negan's tone softened just as the expression in his eyes did. "There are lifebelts attached to the railing. A crew member will throw one down for me. I can hold on to it until somebody fucking helps me back up." He cocked his head to the side. "If you fall in, I jump after you and hold you until somebody helps us up. Then I spank your fucking ass for falling into the fucking ocean."   

"Hm." Daryl pulled his shoulder up, rubbing his ear against. "Thank you."

A faint smile lit Negan's face up. "You're welcome. But none of it will happen. This ship is safe and you are safe with me." He gave Daryl a nod. "Right? What is your job? Tell me."

Daryl pointed a shy finger. "Focus on you."

"What else."

"Do as told." Daryl huffed a breath and smacked his lips. "And answer."

"Good job. That's right." Negan nodded once. "You want another job?"

Daryl nodded as well. He wanted ten more. Or twenty.  "Okay."

Negan wagged his eyebrows and leaned in close to speak right next to Daryl's ear. "You wanna suck me off first thing in the morning. Wake me up with that sweet puppy mouth."

The butterflies in Daryl's stomach liked the new job very much. "I can now."

"You can suck me off now?" Negan got up, folded the blanket back, and got into bed with a deep sigh, patting the free space next to him. "No, you can't. It's late and bedtime for naughty sea puppies. Chop chop."

----

At 1:39 in the very early Tuesday morning, Daryl had finally drifted off, lulled into sleep by the faint thrum of the ship's engines, clinging tightly to a tall man who was way safer than any life jacket on the planet.

Chapter Text

Tuesday dawned bright and new, as the sun rose over the horizon, dispersing the clouds and darkness of the night, the sky and sea becoming a rich blue. A caressing breeze fanned gentle waves over the shimmering surface, making the air smell clean and fresh, as the huge, white ocean liner slowly sliced its way through the calm water, floating like a palace on the Atlantic, quietly, until the majestic, deep roaring ship's horn blasted through the peaceful scenery, to welcome the beautiful morning.    

"What's that." On Deck 14, in one of the high-priority suites, Daryl's head shot up, startled, from where it had rested peacefully on a warm, flat stomach. Hair hopelessly tousled, cheeks glowing, lips a deep shade of pink, a smudge of drool and cum in the corner of his mouth, another one on his chin, he was living proof of a job well done.

Negan didn't open his eyes, just pushed Daryl's head back down, not ready yet to end the deeply relaxed state right after a mind-blowing orgasm. "It's a salute." He combed his fingers through longish hair. "It means the hot boy in 14244 is the best fucking cocksucker on this goddamn ship."

Daryl listened to the deep words, rumbling through a broad torso, enjoying the heavy hand caressing his head. "'s your room."

"True." Negan wished he could go back to sleep, instead of spending the majority of the day at an autograph table. "My room, my Daryl." He brushed his fingertips over Daryl's lips. "My fucking cum down that sweet puppy throat."

Daryl exhaled hot, damp breath, opening his mouth just a bit to touch one of Negan's fingers with his tongue. He wished they would be clad in black rubber and deep inside his bum. "Can you wear a glove?" His question was quiet and sounded not very confident, but at least it was out.

Negan opened his eyes, glancing down. "Do I want to wear a latex glove?" The tip of his index finger played absently with the silky, wet tongue he found between warm lips. "You miss my hand up your gorgeous ass?" He got a nod as answer, before blue eyes looked up at him to meet his gaze with pure honesty.

"Yes."

Pride and arousal shot from the left side of Negan's chest, straight into his lower abdomen, leaving him stunned for a moment, before he huffed a soundless breath and pulled Daryl up to lick the remains of his climax off pale pink lips. "You and fisting. My two fucking favorite things." He rolled them over, moving on top of him. "But I can't play with your sweet hole right now." He kissed, lazy and open-mouthed, keeping his eyes open to watch cheeks blushing in a glowing shade of red. "I have to work in an hour." He kissed again, drew his tongue over glistening lips, then reached down to slip his hand beneath the waistband of Daryl's pajama pants. "Right? But you wanna spread your legs for me, so I can reward you for serving me so nicely this morning." His fingers found a perfect erection and expertly started to treat it with firm, even strokes, enjoying the five fingernails digging into his flesh in surprise.

Air popped out of Daryl's lungs at the sudden invasion and his eyes flew open, staring up into Negan's close face. He wanted to say something but then forgot what it was and instead lifted his hips with the steady strokes, wanting more.

"Look at you being so fucking hard for me." Negan braced himself up on one arm, licking Daryl's parted lips with relish, then the corner of his mouth, and chuckled at the low groan and soft whimpers he produced. "Was it so nice to suck me off? Tell me." He massaged the dripping, swollen head of the man's cock with his palm while stroking his length with deft fingertips, loving how Daryl just stared at him with dazed, doelike eyes, managing to nod his head slightly. "Mhm." He copied the nod. "You like my dick down your throat?"

Daryl nodded again with a hoarse grunt, the muscles in his legs starting to tremble.   

"Yeah, you like when I fuck your sweet, slutty mouth, don't you." Negan hissed, nipping the man's bottom lip and increasing his firm strokes, making them faster. "You wanna answer like a good boy and spread your fucking legs as I taught you." His tone got more husky and commanding, as he watched the expression on Daryl's flushed face growing frantic.

Daryl widened his thighs, raising his bent knees higher to offer himself to the tall man above him. Heat and tension built through his body, gathering in a tight knot inside his lower belly. He bucked into the broad hand pleasuring him, then flinched and gasped when the wonderful fingers let go of his cock and instead slapped his balls painfully. "I like it."

"Better!" Negan gave Daryl a stern look and paused a second before he started to stroke the man's throbbing cock again. "Put your hands above your head for me." He said sharply, never ceasing in his thrusts, and then slapped again, even harder, when there was hesitation. "Do it!"

Daryl sobbed and exhaled soundly. He tilted his head back into the assortment of pillows, as his hands fell over his head, his elbows bent, the pale underside of his arms exposed. His hands were open on the white bedding, the palms up, his fingers curling slightly inward.

Negan cursed at the striking image of beautiful submission. His own arousal biting at him, seeing a perspiration-glazed face rippled with tension, and blue eyes dazed with desire. "Yeah, that's right." He leaned in to lick a flushed cheek and muffle some of the man's whimpers and grunts with his mouth, sharing a messy kiss, as he worked a swollen, pounding shaft towards climax. "You wanna cum for me, Daryl?" He sucked a wet lower lip, then bit it. "Hm? Show me how much you like me?" He stared down, enraptured by the desperate, helpless expression on Daryl's face and the shiny steel around a sweaty neck.

A shaky mixture of a cry and groan left Daryl's throat, he pulled his knees up higher in hopes that it would help and bring release. But it didn't and he nodded, sounding meek and pleading when he made his voice work, with a needy look into dark, glinting eyes. "I want please."

"Yeah? What a clever boy, giving such nice answers." Negan's tone was dark and thick, a testimony of his own lust. "Go on then, cum for me, puppy." He watched as Daryl stared at him for three more seconds, before clamping his eyes shut, choking on a hoarse grunt. Grimacing, back arching, head tilted back, his whole body jolting and jerking. "Yeah... pretty boy." Negan cooed, placing wet, adoring kisses on a glowing cheek and exposed neck, as spurts of cum drenched his fingers and the soft fabric of dinosaur pajama bottoms. "Being so very good for me." He lowered down, covering the panting, twitching body soothingly with his own, taming the electrical aftershocks. "Nice job, Daryl."  He fondled the man's spent cock lazily, breathing in the fragrance of warm skin and his sub's arousal, again wishing he could stay in bed and skip the day's schedule. But that's not how it worked. So he allowed himself a three-minute rest in silence and quiet bliss before he raised his head and nudged his nose against Daryl's jawbone. "You wanna serve me in the bathroom now, so I can feed you breakfast before I have to work?"

The deep, rumbling voice pulled Daryl out of his relaxed, dozy state. He blinked his eyes open, looking hazily at Negan's close face. He was really very pretty.

Negan smirked, arching his brows. "Well?"

Daryl sniffed his nose, rubbing his shoulder against his ear. "Can I work with you?"

"May you work with me?" Negan wiped some hair out of a damp forehead. "No, you may not. I will be sitting for hours at a fucking table to sign autographs for people. And you will be busy playing pinball with my other boy in the meantime. Right?"

Daryl blinked again. Playing pinball sounded actually better than watching the tall angry man signing things for silly people. "With Paul."

Negan pecked Daryl's lips and reluctantly got up. "Well, last time I checked he was the only other boy I had."

----

After young waiter Orhan had witnessed how uncomfortable one of his new guests had been at his first dinner on board, he had worked half of the night on a plan to provide some special service for breakfast, to lighten the mood at table 108.

Daryl blinked in surprise when the waiter fumbled with his cloth napkin, pulled an end out, tugged at the other side, and suddenly a white duck sat next to his plate. He looked at it, then up at Negan, not sure what to say.

"That's impressive, Orhan." Negan sipped his matcha tea, biting back a negative comment because it tasted cheap and bitter. "You should make one for Mister Grimes. Maybe he puts his fucking phone down, then."

Rick looked up from his confusing new piece of technology and squinted across the table. "Excuse me?"

Negan cut his bagel in half. "No, I won't. Eat your eggs."

"That's an important conversation." Rick clarified but put his phone down anyway and moved a bit to the side with his chair, when Orhan started to fold a white cloth napkin next to his plate. It was a triangle shape with the tip up, then the left and right sides were folded inwards.

"You know how to pet a cat or a dog?" Orhan stroked the lower end of the napkin with his fingers, for his guest to see. "Please stroke it. Like this, from head to tail."

Rick squinted at the waiter, a bit annoyed by the silly game, but then just did it and caressed the piece of fabric with his fingertips.

"Exactly like this, very good, Sir. Keep going." Orhan started to twist the edges of the napkin inwards, tightly, starting from the very top, slowly creating a sausage-shaped object.

Daryl watched attentively, looking back and forth between the men's faces and then at the napkin, because the rolled-up part magically started to rise from the table.     

"More, more. Don't be shy." Orhan encouraged, twisting the edges of the napkin tightly inwards, almost to the bottom. "Oh, Sir, now look what you've done." He grinned widely at the phallic-shaped creation. It was his special adult-only napkin trick and never failed to make his guests laugh.

"Oh please." A slight shade of red spread across Rick's cheeks, as he realized what his napkin looked like.

"That's so much better than the duck." Negan made Daryl bite from his gluten-free cream cheese bagel and then smirked when his sub chuckled with full cheeks at the funny napkin penis.

"Please hold it, Sir. It's not mine." Orhan put the creation in Mister Grimes' hands and innocently left the table to get more of the fresh mango the restaurant offered today.

"Great." Rick shook his head and quickly unfolded the embarrassing napkin to put it on his lap where it belonged. "Like you eat at a circus."

"I don't know." Negan mused with a lift of his eyebrow. "Maybe we should ask Orhan to train Olivia." He fed Daryl another piece of bagel. "Right boy? Then we'd have fucking cock napkins for every dinner."

"Hja." Daryl chuckled again, imagining Olivia folding white fabric dicks at the dining table. That would be weird.

"What's so funny?" Paul walked up to the table, kissing Negan on the cheek. "Good morning, Sir."

"Good morning." Negan gave him a suspicious look. "Where the fuck have you been."

Jesus tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, kissed Daryl's cheek and went to the other side of the table to sit down next to his boyfriend. He cleared his throat, showing a small sheepish smile. "I was under punishment, Sir. Sorry." He nudged Daryl's foot underneath the table.

"Mhm." Negan wasn't smiling. "Why."

Paul cleared his throat again, wanting to answer, but Rick did it for him.

"I had my reasons."

Daryl glared at the Cowboy-boots-man and nudged Paul's foot back underneath the table.

Rick poked his fork into his scrambled eggs, suddenly not hungry anymore, as he felt Negan's piercing stare on him.

Negan looked at him with an appraising eye, making a sizzling sound as he sucked his teeth. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to, knowing that Rick understood his disappointment full well. Leaving a sub completely alone for a punishment, and not approaching him afterward for a definite ending, offering no sign of forgiveness, was a no-go. He held the condemning stare a moment longer, before he addressed Paul, making sure his tone was firm and positive. "You wanna be good for me and go to the Arcade with Daryl after breakfast."

"Yes, Sir." Paul smiled at Negan, but his eyes darted to his boyfriend, wishing he would say anything. Because he was really sorry.

----

Even after thirty minutes of waiting, and another ten minutes of making out to kill time, there wasn't a free game at the packed Arcade. Because it was still a few hours until the first party started on the pool deck and young gay men needed entertainment.

"That sucks." Jesus pulled a face, got his phone out, and leaned his head against Daryl's shoulder to call one of his Dads. "Hello Sir, sorry for interrupting."

' If you fell into the fucking ocean I'll whip the shit outta you'

"No ocean, Sir. I just wanted to ask if you would mind if we explore the ship a bit. The Arcade is packed, there's no free machine for like 40 minutes now and we are bored."

' No alcohol, no pool, no bullshit. Stay together. Call me if there's a problem.'

A bright smile spread over Paul's face. "Thank you, Sir. You're the best."

'I know. Have fun.'

----

Finding something fun on one of the biggest cruise ships in the world wasn't easy for Daryl Dixon, who had left Georgia just once in his life, and didn't feel very comfortable with the thought of being trapped in a swimming building in the middle of the Caribbean sea.

But Paul had dragged him into one of the glass elevators anyway and pushed the button to Deck 17, which was as high as passengers could get without having to climb stairs.

"We might be a little underdressed." Jesus chuckled, as they stepped out onto posh carpeting, into a lobby-like room, decorated with expensive wood and metal. It was an exclusive area of the ship, giving suite guests the chance to relax in private, either inside a lounge, bar, or restaurant, or outside on a sun deck for a nice evening drink.  

"I am sorry, Sir, this Deck is exclusively for guests in Grand Suites and pinnacle members." A stiff person in uniform, speaking with a serious twang, blocked the way for the two young men who were obviously on the wrong level of the ship.

Paul pulled a white plastic card out, holding it up with a friendly smile to confirm that he was living in one of the grand suites, even though he wore dark pink shorts with palm-tree print to his $6,00 H&M flip-flops.

"Oh." The young steward from Oxford, England, seemed to be embarrassed by his mistake and made a humble step back to let the passengers through. "My apologies. Please enjoy your stay."

"No worries, Harry." Jesus patted the man's shoulder, sure that his name must've been Harry because he had red hair just like the Prince of Wales, and took Daryl's hand to guide him past the boring lounge and fancy restaurant, out onto the completely abandoned sun deck. "OH MAN THAT'S AWESOME!" He raised his voice as wind force 5 hit his face, his long hair whipping around his face. "LOOK AT THE OCEAN!" He went up to the railing, took his phone out and snapped a picture of the wide, dark blue sea.

Daryl squinted his eyes and hunched his shoulders, the wind rippling the thin fabric of his baggy shirt against his chest. He couldn't believe how high up they were. It was like standing on the roof of a skyscraper, surrounded by nothing but water. But he had to admit that the ocean looked a bit nicer now. It wasn't black anymore, more turquoise, while the sky was bright blue, with fluffy white clouds.

"COME LOOK, IT'S SAFE!" Jesus yelled over the strong wind and held his hand out, pulling Daryl against his side, as soon as he was close enough. He wrapped his arm around the man's waist, holding him tight. "So cool, right?"

"Hm." Daryl put his arm around Paul's waist as well, feeling a bit dizzy as they stared into the great open where the world seemed to end and humans were no longer part of the planet.

He wished Merle could see it too.

----

Deck 16 was crowded and offered a huge buffet-style restaurant, where Daryl took a picture for Negan, of a wide selection of gluten-free-no-sugar-added pastries, while Jesus snagged a handful of Earl Grey tea bags for his upset boyfriend.

In the outside area were a couple of bars, a lot of deck chairs, and the FlowRider, a big wedge-shaped surf simulator, where powerful jets sprayed a continuous stream of water over a padded, blue surface, so passengers could test their surf skills under safe conditions, many stories above the actual ocean.

Jesus was in heaven. "Hold this." He thrust his mirrored sunglasses and phone into Daryl's hands, pulled his shirt over his head, and flicked his flip-flops off in under ten seconds. "I will rock this shit." He tucked some long hair behind his ears and stepped into the ankle-high water, grabbing a purple-colored board, offered by a member of the staff. "Wish me luck, puppy!" He grinned at Daryl, a hint of nervousness on his happy face, as he stepped onto the board, putting his weight on his back foot, slightly bent his knees, and put his arms out straight at his sides. For the first couple of seconds, he wobbled and teetered, before he eventually found his balance and a rhythm, laughing out loud about how much fun it was.

Daryl sat down on one of the wooden benches at the side, crossed his legs and sniffed his nose. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. It looked really fun, maybe he should try it too. Sometime, when nobody else was around.

----   

The back end of Deck 15 had a big sports section with a miniature golf course, a basketball court, and ping pong tables. While more towards the front of the ship was the pool area, with several big whirlpools, a stage, a dance floor, two main pools with deckchairs all around, and a roofed-over solarium, where people could tan and relax in hot tubs if the weather wasn't ideal.

Daryl didn't like that part. The smell of chlorine water and sunscreen was ubiquitous, the ground speckled with wet footprints, and everyone was wearing swimwear. Except some guys of the staff, who were dressed like pirates, because they were already preparing the first bash of the day for the 5794 party animals on board.

Jesus watched the gay water ball team from Boston with wistful eyes, as they jumped around in one of the pools, presenting their flawless, glistening bodies. "He said no pool, but if I'd fall in and accidentally catch the ball, it would be rude not to participate in the game, right?"

"Hm." Daryl tugged Paul's shirt, dragging him back inside to the elevators, when one of the guys whistled in his direction and called him 'Baby'. He really didn't like the pool deck.

----

They skipped Deck 14, even though Daryl liked it most, as it was the location of Negan's suite. Deck 13 didn't exist, and Deck 12 to 9 held all the staterooms and therefore weren't exactly exciting either. So they stepped out of the elevator when the friendly voice announced their arrival on Deck 8, Central Park.

Daryl looked suspiciously around on the way through a short hallway with artwork on the walls and blue carpeting on the floor, and then almost reproachfully glared at the outside scenery unfolding in front of his eyes, when the automatic doors opened and in fact a real, living park existed in the middle of the huge shopping-center ship. With tropical plants, trees and wooden benches scattered along romantic walkways. Apart from an elegantly landscaped green area, the park offered restaurants, stores, and galleries, making it seem like a visit to a small town.

"Well, now I have seen it all." Paul slid his sunglasses to the top of his head, then squinted his eyes, as he looked up a luscious tree, reaching more than two-and-a-half decks high. "I can't even keep the tiny ficus in our living room alive and they grow that shit at sea."

"Hm." Daryl understood where Paul's indignation came from, especially as a small colorful bird landed right next to his feet in a bunch of calla lilies. He snapped a picture of it, so Negan would know what was going on on this ship, and then flinched startled, when a small marching band walked by, playing trumpets to entertain the passengers on their stroll through nature. "Come." He tugged Paul's shirt again, wanting to go back inside, where it didn't smell like a sub-tropical garden.

----

They took the stairs down to Deck 4, where an outside area didn't exist, but instead a real movie theater. It wasn't necessary to buy tickets, the door was open for everyone, and the movie playing was boring as hell, but two young men from Atlanta enjoyed it anyway, because, at 11 in the morning, they were the only guests and had the whole room for themselves.    

"It's true." Paul grinned when Daryl chuckled. "It's like sleeping between Chewbacca and a lawnmower when they both snore." He shook his head, putting his foot on the backrest of the seat in front of him. "I swear sometimes I'm just like, Yeah keep snoring Papa, I have a pillow here with your name on it. Or a shovel."

Daryl huffed a laugh. "You can sleep in your new bed."

"I know but then there's no sex before the snoring part."

Daryl sniffed his nose, shrugging. "You can come upstairs." It was an idea voiced in a quiet tone, sounding almost shy, but Paul seemed to like it anyway, because the bright grin on his face transformed into a soft smile, before he leaned over and kissed warm lips.

"Is that an invitation?" He purred, licking Daryl's mouth, then kissed it again.

"Hm." Daryl nodded once, liking how Paul smelled like cookie dough and coconuts. Maybe he could ask Negan for an invitation for Paul to the big bed, once they were back at the factory.

----

The ship offered a behind-the-scenes tour, that was complimentary for the grand suite guests, and even though Daryl hadn't specifically asked for it, Jesus had seen the sparks of enthusiasm in curious blue eyes, and just signed them in.

The group of 16 passengers got equipped with All Access Passes on blue lanyards and were then led through the premises secretly hidden from the common guests.

Officer Lazlo showed his fascinated group the galley and then guided them below decks to the engine control room, a few of the giant fridges, the garbage disposal, and the laundry, before they went up to the bridge, to meet the captain.

Everyone had a ton of questions and laughed at the funny stories Mister Lazlo shared. All but, the shy young man from suite 14244, who took 37 slightly blurry photos and wished everyone could be quiet so he would understand all the details the guide was telling about the engines.  

"You can take a selfie with the captain." Jesus nudged Daryl's shoulder, eyeing a red button on the control panel, wondering what would happen if he touched it.

"No." Daryl gave his answer in a rough, defiant tone. The captain was a short man without any beard or leather jacket. And even if he had one he wouldn't be able to zip it up because his belly was far too big. He really didn't want a selfie with that man. But he wanted to go back to Negan, to show him all the awesome pictures and ask whether he would be allowed to pay for some food with the black silicone bracelet.

Paul shrugged and put a claiming arm around Daryl's shoulder when one of the other tour attendees tried to flirt across the room. "Okay, then let's find one of the Dads, I need a burger. Or three."

----

Anja was one of the newest members of the crew, but a resolute person, and knew how to handle overly excited passengers, who didn't understand the concept of standing in line, if they wanted to have an autograph of one of the ship's celebrity guests, who, incidentally, was the most gorgeous member of the male species she had ever seen.

"Buddy, what is your problem, get back in line or you can consider yourself under arrest." There wasn't any arrest on the cruise liner she called her workplace, but the impudent passenger didn't have to know that.

"Arrest?" Jesus chuckled, more than amused by the feisty lady who was supposed to keep a room full of gay fanboys under control. "I am telling you he is one of my Dads and wants to see us."

"Of course he is, honey." Anja rolled her eyes and shoved Mister Rovia back in line. Lovestruck gay guys really were imaginative, she had to admit.

----

After almost four hours of scribbling his name on every surface imaginable and hugging more than 900 people, Negan sighed tiredly, rolled his stiff shoulders, straightened his back behind his table and squinted, when he cast a look at the line of people still waiting for a signature, spotting a young insecure man among his fans. He had tousled hair and a blue all-access-pass around his collared neck, glaring angrily at the guys around him.

Negan watched him a moment, a smirk curving his lips, before he whistled through the room, getting the attention of more than 200 men, but locked eyes with just one of them. The only one who was of real interest to him. "Ksst." He crooked two fingers, beckoning him over. "Come here."

Daryl sniffed his nose, wrapping an arm across his chest, when everyone in the room suddenly looked at him, and most of all the tall, beautiful man, standing behind a table at the end of the queue. He looked around, feeling embarrassed as he stepped out of line and walked past the waiting men, hearing them whisper and rant.

The tip of Negan's tongue poked out to touch his upper lip, when his sub arrived at his table. "Why are you waiting in line, grumpy puppy? You want an autograph?"

Daryl didn't know what to say. The men behind him talked openly about the asshole jumping the queue, mentioning his longish hair and collar. It made him angry and uneasy. Until two fingers snapped harshly into his face.

"Hey. You want to fucking focus on me." Negan ignored the other people in the room, looking firmly into blue eyes. "You want me to sign something for you?"

"Hm." Daryl showed a half nod, half shrug, wishing he could sit underneath the table, between long legs, where nobody would see him. "Okay."

Negan took a photo off the pile, pulled the cap off his sharpy with his teeth and scribbled something in elegant black letters. "There you go." He closed the pen and handed the picture over.

Daryl reached for it, muttering a shy 'Thank you'.

"You're welcome." Negan smiled. "Where is Paul? I told you to stay together."

Daryl glanced up. "Had to piss." Actually Jesus had claimed that he had to tinkle, but Daryl didn't want to repeat that.  

"Mhm." Negan snapped his fingers again, patting the side of his thigh. "You wanna come here and assist me until he's back."

Daryl glanced back over his shoulder at all the men, and then up at Negan who obviously expected him to follow the order. So he walked around the table and after another glance at all the people watching him, knelt down, right next to a heavy biker boot.

"Good job."

A broad hand fondled the back of his head rewardingly, pulling him against a long leg to rest his forehead against. It made his stomach tingle and his heart speed up. Before his guts started to boil, because the next guy in line stepped up to the table, and Negan leaned over to hug him.

"Would you mind if I kneel for you as well, Sir, just for a minute?" Leo from Tulsa, Oklahoma, gestured to the person already showing his submission behind Negan's table, figuring he could do it even better.

"Sorry, buddy." Negan signed a photo with his name and standard phrase and handed it over. "Place is reserved." He flashed a friendly smile, petting his sub's hair. "But you can see me tomorrow at the Q&A."

Something warm and fuzzy spread through Daryl's chest. He dug his nose into the rough fabric of Negan's trouser leg and then glanced down at the picture he held like a treasure on his knees. It showed the tall angry man with his trademark leather jacket and baseball bat, a charming smile on his perfect lips. On the side stood in black ink, ' To Daryl - You're not one of them. You're the man I make fucking love to at night. - Yours, Negan' There was also a black heart and a simple drawing of a small puppy beneath the words. Daryl sniffed his nose and glanced up for a second, seeing the prettiest man in the whole world talking to a drooling admirer. But that was okay, because Daryl Dixon wasn't one of them and five fingers rested protectively on top of his head.

----

In the early afternoon, the first party of the day was in full swing on Deck 15, and hundreds of gay men in scanty clothing or tight swimwear gathered around the two main pools to chat, dance, and socialize.

Most of the deckchairs were taken by that point, as the weather was splendid and the temperature fit for the geographical position. But even in the most crowded public areas, the ship provided some private space for the suite guests, where they could relax and enjoy the hustle and bustle without being harassed by the common folks.

It wasn't fenced off enough for Daryl's liking, though. They had a private section near the poolside, with four deck chairs, partly shielded by hip-high plexiglass railings. He knelt on one of the chairs that Negan had covered with a thick, large towel and felt very uncomfortable, wearing not more than a tight pair of black speedos to his steel collar and silicone bracelet. A warm breeze sent the smell of chlorine and pool cleaner in his direction and he wrinkled his nose underneath his tousled hair when two guys jumped hollering into the pool, making water splashing everywhere. He wiped two evil drops off his bare knees and then turned to the left as someone took the seat next to him. It was the Cowboy-boots-guy, in dark blue bathing trunks, mirrored shades and a pair of weird sandals. He put a bag down and started to riffle through it, pulling out a bottle of sunscreen. Daryl watched as he poured a generous amount into his hand and applied a thick layer onto his arms, chest, legs, and shoulders, before looking over, gesturing with the bottle. "You too?"

Daryl shook his head and quickly looked away, because he had survived 31 summers in the Georgia heat without any fancy skin protection, and he surely wouldn't start now to use it.

He sniffed his nose, squinted against the bright sun and then forgot everything around him, when a tall, stunning man walked confidently up to the pool, making a statement in perfectly fitting black swimwear that hugged his well-toned middle in all the right places. He took his sunglasses off, casually put them on the tiled ground, and executed a smooth dive with minimal splash. He breached the surface of the water two seconds later, slicking his dark hair back out of his face, gracefully swam to the deepest end of the pool and started swimming laps, ignoring everyone around.

Daryl stared with open mouth, totally mesmerized, and then flinched when something cold touched the warmed-up skin of his shoulder.

"It's pomegranate, lemon and clementine over ice." Paul explained holding a tropical-looking cocktail out. "I got it for you."

Daryl took it hesitantly, not sure why a ton of fruit slices were attached to the brim of the glass, but mumbled a shy 'Thank you' before sipping warily through the straw. It tasted awesome. Cold and refreshing, like juice made of fruit salad.

"Knew you'd like it." Jesus sat down on the deckchair behind Daryl, making himself comfortable to tan his rather pale skin.

"Hm." Daryl drank in big gulps, feeling awfully thirsty all of sudden, and concentrated back on the pool, where Negan swam from one side to the other, then flipped over before making the return trip. A lot of guys openly watched him, some took pictures, pointed fingers, or called his name to get his attention, but were all dismissed for the next six minutes. Then Negan stopped, used both hands to wipe the water from his face and eyes, pulled himself up on the edge of the pool and easily climbed out, his tall, wet form catching the eye of every male passenger around, as he picked up his shades and walked over to the private seating area the staff had provided for him.

He pinched his nose and leaned down, both arms braced on the deckchair, to kiss Daryl's warm mouth. "You taste good. What were you drinking."

Daryl blinked through his long bangs, not able to remember his name, let alone the specification of his beverage, as cool lips and a wet beard brushed his face. "Juice." He lifted his completely empty glass two inches as an explanation, staring at Negan's dark chest hair, glistening with moisture, and the little beads of water running lazily down his torso. He avoided his eyes after two seconds, a small, stressed-out sigh escaping his throat.

Negan grinned, loving the impact he had on people, and kissed his sub's forehead, before ruffling his already tousled hair with wet fingers. "Be a good boy and get me one. I'm thirsty." He grabbed a towel, wiping his face dry.

"Okay." Daryl climbed a bit awkwardly off the deckchair, bumping first against Rick's huge pool bag and then into Negan's tall, water-cooled body, before he exhaled another breath and walked off somewhere to the right, his empty cocktail glass in hand.

Negan blindly snapped his fingers for boy number two. "You wanna show him where the bar is."

"Sure thing." Paul rose gracefully to his feet, licked some water droplets off Daddy's upper arm, "You look hot when you're wet, Sir." and followed a completely confused Daryl through the crowd.

"You could send the staff to get you a drink, you know." Rick pretended to have his eyes closed underneath his mirrored shades. He had to admit his boss didn't look too bad, clad in fresh pool water and $120 swimwear.

"Mhm." Negan threw a bottle of sunscreen on his employee's chest. "And you could put this shit on me before I look like a fucking roast turkey on Thanksgiving."  

----

A tall, almost naked man owned the deckchair with all his glorious presence, when Daryl came back. Leaning into the backrest, completely relaxed, one leg left, one to the right side of the chair, unashamedly presenting his sparsely clad crotch to the world.

"Good job. Put it down." Negan pointed to the small round side table, then patted the free space between his legs. "Come here."

Daryl placed the cocktail on the table and clumsily knelt down on the towel-covered deckchair, facing Negan. He sniffed his nose, feeling shy, when five cool fingers came down to rest on his left knee.

"Here." Negan handed Paul blindly a bottle of 50+ sunscreen, "Put it on him." before he closed his eyes behind his black Ray Ban's, relaxing again.

Daryl frowned up at Jesus and wrapped an arm across his bare chest. "Can do it alone."

"He fucking puts it on you, I said." Negan wasn't in the mood to argue and then decided to rather open his eyes again, enjoying the sight of a smiling Mister Rovia applying white lotion all over the precious skin of the grumpy young man in his possession. "What did you do all morning? Tell me."

Daryl shrugged, glaring at Paul for smearing lotion on his nose. "Dunno."

"We explored the entire ship, starting from the top deck." Jesus wiped long hair to the side to apply some sunscreen on a collared neck. "We also took a tour and saw the bridge. That was actually pretty cool."

Daryl listened, his eyes darting to the right, remembering the awesome things they had seen below deck. He wanted to tell Negan all about it.

"Is that true." Negan noticed the change in Daryl's face, seeing excitement flickering through blue eyes. "Did you meet the captain?"

"Hm." Daryl nodded, glanced up at Jesus and then at Negan. He had also seen the chief engineer and the people working in the kitchen.

"Yeah, but that was a huge letdown." Paul chuckled, unable to contain his disappointment, when all his expectations of a tall, manly, super sexy captain had been crushed at the sight of the small, chubby man who actually navigated the ship. "He didn't look like the alpha male guy I had expected."

Daryl nodded again. That was true. The tall angry man should have been the captain. Together with the mustache-man and Mister Ford from the door.

"Mhm." Negan reached a hand out to spread a smudge of the white lotion on Daryl's face evenly. "What should a captain look like."

Daryl held perfectly still, liking the gentle fingers on his face. "Like you." He pointed at Negan's broad chest.

"Yes, please." Jesus purred like a lion cub in the African midday sun. "That'd be hot."

Negan snorted, patting Daryl's knee, before he closed his eyes again to get some well-earned rest. "On a fucking slave ship maybe."

----

At almost 4 PM, Jesus woke up from a short nap, stretched his arms, wriggled his toes and slid his sunglasses to the top of his head. He looked to the left, where Rick was sitting relaxed on his deckchair, reading a book. Then looked to the right, where Daryl snoozed peacefully on a broad chest, his head on Negan's shoulder, his lips slightly parted while five fingers rested protectively on his back. The picture made him jealous to some extent, a part of him craved this intimacy and comfort since the fight he had with Rick in the morning. He was still terribly sorry.

He turned back to his boyfriend, feeling a knot in his stomach.  "Can I get you something, Sir?" He tried to convince himself that he held his voice so low to not disturb Daryl's nap, but the truth was that he found it quite tough to break the painful silence. "A drink?"

Rick tensed noticeably, raised his chin half an inch, but then just mumbled a small, "No, thanks."

It hurt Paul's guts. But now that the first step was done, he didn't want to go back. "We could walk around a bit. They have miniature golf over there. "    

Rick pursed his lips, staring at the pages of his fantasy novel. "Maybe later."

Paul looked at his boyfriend from the side and after a long moment found the courage to reach out and put a hand on his thigh. "I'm really sorry, Sir." His voice sounded as weak and remorseful as he felt.

Rick closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring slightly as he put his book down. "Why are you calling me that."

A hard lump formed in Paul's throat. It hurt and made speaking difficult. "Because I'm really sorry." He didn't get a reaction for a long time. Then the back of his hand was briefly squeezed, before Rick got up and vanished somewhere in the direction of the ship's Solarium.

Jesus looked after him, feeling the lump in his throat melting into tears. It made him angry. He wiped his right eye with the side of his thumb and slid his mirrored sunglasses back down, biting his lips, then exhaled a shaky breath.

"Why is he angry." Daryl touched Paul's shoulder with shy fingers and frowned when the man turned to look at him with a smile on his face, huffing a laugh.

"I was really stupid this morning." Jesus wiped his nose with the back of his hand, because it felt runny. "Told him I wouldn't follow his orders anymore." He laughed again, but it didn't sound happy at all, his lips turning a shade darker, as his body tried everything to stop tears from falling.

Daryl wasn't sure what to do and brushed his fingertips through the facial hair on Paul's jawbone. "Why."  

Jesus shrugged, suppressing a sob. "It just feels weird lately, you know?" He turned to Daryl, looking for confirmation, glad that his eyes were shielded. "Ever since Shane isn't with us anymore, he wavers. Sometimes he is all Dom as he always was, and the next day he doesn't care what I do." He shrugged again, pulling his knees up towards his chest. "Sometimes he doesn't even read my report in the evening, or he forgets me kneeling in the bedroom. Makes me feel stupid." Paul sniffed his nose, a tear running past the rim of his sunglasses down his cheek. "Embarrassed, you know. Like I'm forcing something on him that he doesn't want anymore." He sniffed again, scratching his leg. "And then when he has his five minutes and feels like barking orders, I feel vulnerable. I'm afraid he doesn't really mean it."

Daryl grimaced, feeling bad. He tried to understand but couldn't really relate. But what he understood just fine, was that Paul was very sad and he didn't like it. "You still like him?"

Paul nodded, suppressing another sob, trying to cover it up with a laugh. "I love him. I want to be his boy again."

The pained tone in Paul's voice made Daryl's guts clench. He wanted to help, and did the only thing he knew, moved to Negan's right side and held his hand out. He didn't say anything, just waited and watched how Paul laughed again, sniffed his nose really loud, and then crawled over onto the deckchair of one of his Dads and snuggled up to Negan's left side.

Negan kissed the top of Paul's head, wrapping his arms around both of his boys. "Not your fucking fault. He has to get his shit together."   

Still Jesus tried to smile, glanced up at Negan's face and hated when his sunglasses were pulled off, exposing his watery eyes.

Negan arched his brows at him, looking serious. "He's missing his top and lost his balance. It has nothing to do with you. You're doing your job. He has to do his."

Paul sniffed, nodding. He knew that deep down. It was just hard to accept. He entwined his fingers with Daryl's, kissed them and closed his eyes, enjoying Negan's comforting body warmth, even lying on a sundeck in the Caribbean sea.

----

Dinner at the Windjammer restaurant was much more relaxed than in the main dining room, as the guests didn't have to worry about dressing up or being interrupted by the wait staff every three minutes. And Negan had to admit, the food, even though it was served buffet-style, was excellent. He just wished that he had brought Eugene on the cruise, because all the clingy fanboys were a big nuisance. To his surprise though, his highly introverted sub, didn't even seem to notice all the cell phones held in his direction, because he was distracted by the gigantic buffet and wide food selection, wandering with his empty plate from one counter to another as if he had stepped into the land of Cockaigne.

Daryl flicked his head to the side to get a strand of hair out of his eyes. He couldn't believe that anyone would cook this much, just for one dinner. The whole room smelled like the most delicious food, from appetizers, over meat and fish, to cakes and desserts. He didn't know where to look first, and after three minutes tugged Negan's sleeve. "Can I eat that?" He gestured to the long line of counters and buffet tables, sniffing his nose as he glanced shyly up at the man he was supposed to ask before he took anything.

Negan put a bruschetta with fresh parmesan on his plate, suppressing a smirk. "May you eat the whole fucking buffet? No, you may not. But you can select the food you like the most and put it on your plate. Then you come to our table and show me what you got." He held a hand up, to shield Daryl from a rude guy with a camera. "Right? We sit over there."

"Hm." Daryl nodded. "Thank you."

Negan leaned in close to speak right next to a pale ear. "I like your manners, boy. Very nice."

Daryl needed almost fifteen minutes before he juggled a very full plate through crowds of people to the table Negan had shown him. He was very proud of his selection. He had fries, potato wedges, ketchup, meat, gravy, fish without eyes and scales, lemon cake, chocolate-covered banana, seven green grapes and a very big cookie that was wrapped in foil. It was a pretty big pile.

"That's a pretty big pile." Negan kept his face straight, seeing all the food mixed up on one plate. He felt a little bad, knowing that was exactly what he had told Daryl to do. He moved back with his chair, patting his thigh. "Come here. You may sit with me for dinner."

Rick sighed, wiping at a weird green stain on his shirt and wondered where it came from because he had nothing green on his plate. "He could sit by himself, you know. We have enough chairs."

"We do have enough chairs." Negan confirmed, helping Daryl to place the overflowing plate on the white tablecloth. "But Daryl was especially good tonight and deserves an extra reward. Right?"

"Hm." Daryl wiped his nose with the back of his hand, feeling shy as he sat down on Negan's lap, trying to make himself as light as possible. "'s for Merle." He showed the wrapped cookie. It had black numbers stamped on the foil, promising that it would be good to eat until the 12th of November 2017. That was certainly enough time to send it to the prison.  

"Your brother likes sugar and fucking gluten?" Negan put the evil pastry to the side and handed Daryl a fork.

Daryl huffed a laugh, smiling at Negan's close face. "Yes." He said it as obvious as it was, because Merle loved food in every shape or form. Most of all roasted meat and everything with sugar.

"Mhm." Negan snagged a grape from Daryl's plate and popped it into his mouth, grimacing because it tasted like ketchup. "Maybe I should send him a book about healthy eating."

Daryl wanted to say something to that, already opened his mouth, but then lost the courage and instead ate from his fish. Then a bite from the lemon cake and a potato wedge, before he tried it again, avoiding his eyes. "I saw a book."

"You saw a book about healthy eating?" Negan sipped his beer, watching Rick whispering something to Paul at the other side of the table. It made Paul smile.

"Mh." Daryl shook his head and got his phone out. He needed a moment to find the right picture but then held it up for Negan to see. He had taken the photo at the souvenir shop with Jesus today, through the window. "'s about the engines."

Negan looked at the display. It was a book about naval architecture and ocean engineering. He couldn't help but feel proud, knowing full well that Daryl found it very interesting. "Do you remember where the shop is? We should buy it. That's a great book."

Daryl nodded, wanting to get up. He tugged the collar of Negan's shirt making sure to have eye contact and full attention. "I can show you." A flicker of excitement shot through his chest. He could read in the book while they were still on the ship. Then he could talk about it with Merle in the visiting room.

"Mhm." Negan smirked, holding his sub down by the waistband of his pants. "Tomorrow. Now is dinnertime. Right? You wanna eat your..." He gestured to the full plate of mishmash. "Pile here."

----

Studio B on Deck 4 was a big indoor nightclub and hosted several shows and evening entertainment for the earlier hours before the big parties started on the lido deck.

"... no dishwasher, no fridge, no coffee machine, no dildos." A pretty man in a silver dress, high heels, and a red wig stood on stage, holding a microphone. "No, Gentlemen, our prizes are very cruise and customs-friendly."

The audience laughed and Daryl on one of the red plush seats looked around the room, trying to understand the rules of the game. He wiped a strand of hair out of his forehead and then watched attentively when some guys walked up to the stage to fish a ball pen and small paper sheet out of a cubical glass container.

"Good for you boys, everyone can participate." The red-haired lady encouraged the audience, waving more men in her direction. "Don't be shy."

"Can we play?" Jesus batted his eyelashes at two of his Dads, who were both not paying attention, because, A.: Drag Bingo wasn't their thing, and B.: They were busy answering emails and messages on their phones.

"Sure." Negan sent a harsh rebuke to his store manager in Amsterdam who still hadn't sent him a complete damage report, and then glanced at Daryl. "You wanna go with Paul to get a scorecard for us."

"Sweet." Paul jumped off his seat, already in full winning mode. "We will win a car for you, Sir. And a plasma TV."

"Mhm." Negan typed a message to Simon, wanting a full report about his home business. "Wash your fucking ears, boy. She just explained that the prizes are worthless junk."

"That's not what she said!" Jesus laughed, grabbing Daryl's hand to drag him along.

"Helloooo... uuuh honey, look at that, it's getting cute in here." The Lady in silver dress stepped to the edge of the stage, going into raptures as she spotted the two young men walking hand in hand up to her. "Where are you from, angel, you look fabulous." She held the microphone out for Jesus, totally digging his style.

"The United States!" Paul called out, throwing an arm up in the air, and turned around to the audience with a big smile. "A beautiful nation in the tiny hands of an angry orange Cheeto!" The whole room cheered and hollered back, celebrating the bold statement coming from an American citizen. Paul took a bow, grinning extra brightly when he saw one of his Dads rolling his eyes.  

The host laughed as well, then turned to Daryl, who looked like he was about to faint, so she decided to not ask him a question. "Welcome beautiful..." Instead, she squatted down, holding the container with bingo cards and ball pens out for the shy man. "Please help yourself, honey. Take as many as you want." She tilted her head to the side, watching with dreamy eyes as Daryl humbly took one for Paul, one for Negan and after a second of hesitation another one for Merle. "Good luck, darling." She purred enamored and watched as the two young men walked off, back to their seats. "Gentlemen, this cleared my skin and watered my cots." She fanned herself in a dramatic fashion. "Some people are just art."

"Was that really necessary?" Rick squinted accusingly when his boyfriend slumped down in the seat next to him. "Political statements could hurt the business."

Jesus handed him a pen and card, then kissed his cheek. "Sometimes all denial doesn't help and you have to embrace your shortcomings, Sir."

Negan chuckled, not taking his eyes off his phone, but spread his legs to make room for Daryl to kneel between. "Yes, Rick. Embrace them." He finished the message, put his phone away and arched his brows at the man on the floor. "Did you get me a card?"

"Hm." Daryl wiped a strand of hair out of his face, holding his cards and pens up. "And for Merle."

"Good boy." Negan shoved a raisin between pale pink lips. "Are you awesome?"

Daryl wanted to say no, but he was sure that it wasn't the answer Negan wanted to hear, so he half shrugged, half nodded and added a very quiet, "Yes." in the end.

It made dark eyes glint. "Look at you being so fucking clever."

----

The bad thing about Drag Bingo was that people who had five correct numbers in a row, had to shout 'BINGO' at the top of their lungs and then come on stage to collect their prize. Daryl watched it happen five times, happy men jogging up to the stage, receiving applause and hugs in front of everyone. It was an absolute nightmare.

And for him the horror was double, because he held two scorecards. One had the word Merle on top in elegant handwriting, the other said Negan/puppy. It made his stomach clench, and he held his breath every time a new number was called out, trying to be as invisible as possible between Negan's legs.

"YES!" Jesus whipped the card out of Daryl's hands, jumped up and threw his arms in the air. "BINGO!" He grinned from one ear to the other, then bent down to kiss a very pale cheek. "You have five! Go get your prize!"

Daryl shook his head, wanting to say that he had to pee and Bingo was stupid, but five strong fingers wrapped around his sweaty hand, as a tall angry man got up from his seat with a sigh and dragged his sub along. Past all other seats and people, from the very back of the room, to the front where the stage was, amid thunderous applause and excited cheers, when the other people noticed who had been among them the whole time.

"Oh yes PLEASE!" The red-haired lady on stage held her perfectly manicured fingers above her happy heart, spotting the gorgeous instant-boner-guaranty who climbed the three stairs up to her. "Bingo, BITCH... I feel like I'm the big winner right now." She told the audience, putting an arm around Negan's broad shoulders, being almost the same height on her adventurous high heels. "Can please anyone take a picture while I experience a spontaneous orgasm?"

Something hot and unpleasant rumbled in Daryl's stomach, formed into a knot and blocked his ability to breathe properly, as he stared down at the audience. He made a step back, hiding his face behind Negan's shoulder.

Somebody from the crew came with an iPhone, attempting to take a picture.

Negan posed like the professional he was, putting an arm around the host's waist, flashing a charming smile, then turned to Daryl and kissed his cheek, earning cheers of approval from the audience. He leaned in to speak into the host's microphone, "Hi." making his voice extra dark and sultry. "So, what did I win." He turned to a table with a selection of things nobody needed. "My pick?"

"By all means, honey!" The flamboyant lady exclaimed, gesturing with her arm. "Free choice! Take it all!" She looked him up and down, "Take me!" laughed towards the audience, before changing into a serious voice. "No seriously, take me."

Negan smirked, wagged his finger 'No', and guided Daryl to the prize selection. He looked it all over in three seconds, finding mostly cheap fitness items, outdated DVD's, shirts with the cruise line's advertising slogan, and towels in bad quality. Knowing he would earn a shrug from Daryl, if he'd ask him what he would prefer, he just took a miniature toy cruise ship, held it up for a moment, kissed the host's cheek and wished the cheering crowd a fucking great night, before he went down the stage and back to his seat.

"Gentlemen, the true sons of God!" The red-haired lady swooned, watching as Negan and Daryl walked off, hand in hand. "Have you ever seen a more beautiful couple? Dear Lord, let me be a fly on their lube dispenser..."

----

The party of the night had a superhero theme, which gave Mister Rovia from the United States the opportunity to dance first with Thor, then with a very manly Peter Pan, make out on the dancefloor with Spiderman, and have a drink with a sexy Clint Eastwood in Western outfit, who was actually one of his Dads.

Daryl thought the Cowboy-boots-guy didn't look much different. He was just wearing a silly hat.

"Boy!"

Harsh fingers snapped in front of Daryl's nose, making him flinch on his bar stool.  

"What's with the fucking stink eye again!" At almost midnight, Negan had no patience anymore for the wild party crowd, and chose to sit in a bit of a distance, at one of the open-air bars to hold a conversation with a top from the UK. "You wanna behave!"

Daryl nibbled at his straw, frowning sulkily underneath his long bangs. He hated the party and was still angry with Rick for making Paul sad. He wanted to go back to the room and be alone with the tall angry man. "'m behavin'." He sipped from his cocktail and took the small metal cruise ship in both hands, studying the details. It was an exact copy of the ship they were on, it even had their balcony on Deck 14 and the pool where Negan had been swimming today.

"Mhm." Negan took the glass away from underneath Daryl's nose, making the black straw fall on the bar counter. "Fucking look at me."

Daryl did, feeling already sorry and wanted to say it, but the words didn't come out, because the man from England was listening.

"You wanna make a fucking mark today on your list?"

Daryl nodded. He had almost four in a row and would get a special reward for that. "Yes."

"Try that again."

"I wanna make a mark." Daryl tried to hold eye contact, speaking quietly but in a polite tone. "Sir."

Negan kept the stern look for a moment, then got his phone out, showing the time on the display.  "You go downstairs with Paul in thirty minutes and prepare for bed. You wanna be on your best behavior until then or you start from square one. Understood?"

"Hm." Daryl nodded, "Yes, Sir." then leaned his forehead against the heavy leather of Negan's jacket. It was the only costume he wore, because he thought being fucking Negan was enough of a superhero. Daryl agreed with that a 100%.

"That's better." Negan kissed long strands of hair, then ruffled them.

"But why so early." Paul snuggled up to Negan's side, kissing Daryl's hair as well. "I have a date with He-Man in an hour, over at the waterslides." He had one or two Pina Coladas too much in his system and felt a little wobbly on his feet.

Negan didn't think so. "Or you go to bed so you can serve in the morning like a good boy."

Paul chuckled, rubbing the tip of his nose against Negan's bearded cheek. "But he is the Master of the Universe."

Negan pulled back, arching his brows, giving his sub a blank look.

Paul cleared his throat. "Or you are the Master of the Universe and I go to bed in thirty minutes."

----

Whenever Daryl came back to the suite on Deck 14, there was chocolate on the pillows in the bed, and all the towels were folded like animals. He wasn't sure whether Negan did it, or maybe one of the many ship-servants who always ran around the hallways with silver food trays, but he kind of liked it. Especially the chocolate. He had collected three already and he kept them underneath the pillow for Merle.

So, on the second evening on the ocean, he put chocolate number four underneath his pillow, along with the awesome toy cruise ship from the bingo game, and a real autograph from the most beautiful person he knew, then took the towel monkey that sat on a chair near the bed and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and take a shower.

After that he put his pajamas on, reported, made a blue cross on the 'Good list', and prepared the bathroom and bed for Negan. He considered kneeling on the carpet to be extra good, but then it knocked at the door and he forgot about it because Paul stood there wearing an old shirt from Rick and grey sweatpants.

"Rick and Morty is on. You wanna watch?" He smelled like toothpaste and very faintly like the white cocktails he had consumed earlier.

Daryl had no idea what that was but he wanted to watch TV with Jesus, so he shrugged and opened the door wider. "Okay."   

----

It was 1:45 in the morning when two of the ship's high-priority suite guests decided to end the evening in a soothing atmosphere, soaking in one of the large hot tubs on the private Deck, with a glass of wine.

"No, Rick. It fucking matters." Negan raised his voice just slightly, having his arms stretched out left and right hooked over the brim, as he sat relaxed into the backrest of the jacuzzi. "He needs stability. You can't turn it on and off like your fucking hairdryer." He watched the man sitting across from him, scrutinizing his defiant face. "I won't allow that."

Rick sipped his wine, avoiding his gaze. "He's my partner."

"He's submissive. That's his fucking nature." Negan drank as well, never breaking his piercing stare. "Being your partner is his choice. As long as his needs are met."

Rick huffed a small laugh, looking to the right, at nothing in particular. "It's not like he needs it from me."

"But he wants it from you. It's what you offered when you met. It's the fucking foundation of your relationship." Negan glanced at the display of his phone, resting on a folded towel. It was late.

Rick sniffed his nose, nodding. "Things change."

"They do." Negan agreed. "They have to." He got up with a sigh and crossed the warm, illuminated water with slow strides, stopping right in front of Rick, his crotch intentionally hovering over the man's face. "Man up and take charge." He raised his brows, putting a broad hand on the side of Rick's damp face. "Or kneel down and hand the fucking leash over." He held the serious stare for a moment, then patted a blushed cheek and climbed out of the jacuzzi, making sure to brush the man's body none too gently with his legs. "He sleeps with me tonight. We'll have breakfast on deck tomorrow. 9 o'clock. I like my tea fresh."

----  

At 2:48 AM, Daryl was sound asleep, completely relaxed, despite the steady thrum of the ship's engines vibrating through the walls and floor. On his back, his hands left and right from his head, his knees pulled up and bent, his thighs wide open, presenting himself as he was taught.

"Good boy." Negan kept his voice low, not intending to wake him up, as he climbed into bed, sliding a gentle hand from the man's crotch, up his chest, to a collared throat, kissing slightly parted lips. "Being so good for me." He brushed a strand of hair out of a pale forehead, then pulled the blanket up, adoring the huff of warm breath being exhaled when Daryl registered the presence of a tall, safe body next to him and instinctively turned onto his side, in search for a broad chest.

"You want me to leave, Sir?" Jesus blinked his eyes open, needing a second to remember where he was.

Negan pulled Paul close, patting his butt. "I want you to be good and sleep. Tomorrow is a long day."   

Paul planted a kiss somewhere on hairy skin, above a steadily beating heart, resting his head on it to listen. "Sleep well, Sir." He didn't close his eyes for a long time and reached a hand out to brush his fingers through Daryl's tousled hair, loving his peaceful face squished against Negan's chest.

"Don't wake him up." Negan kissed the top of Paul's head. "Sleep."





 

Chapter Text

The second morning of the Gays and Friends cruise 2017, started lazy for two young men in suite 14244, somewhere between Haiti and San Juan on the Caribbean sea.

After teaming up for an early morning blowjob and serving Negan in the shower, they were allowed to watch TV in bed until the Master of their Universe had finished his beard trim.

"Sweet." Paul was a big fan of the Duck Tales since the early years of his childhood. He crossed his legs, not caring that his cozy white robe hung wide open in this position, and drummed the theme song along on his bare thighs.  

A tiny smile made the left corner of Daryl's mouth curve up. He knew that show and all the characters because Duck Tales had been part of the Sunday morning cartoon marathon on TV when he was younger, and Merle and his father were never up early on Sunday, so he had been able to watch it.

He pulled his bath robe tighter around his nude body and leaned his head against Paul's shoulder, watching how the Beagle boys in their prison cell worked on a new plan to steal all the money from Uncle Scrooge's money bin, so they could create a life of luxury for themselves.

Jesus chuckled, resting his head on Daryl's hair, when the scene changed and Uncle Scrooge took a dive into his money bin, wearing a bathing suit. "Daddy should totally have one of these in the factory."

"Hja." Daryl huffed a laugh because that would be awesome. The tall angry man could swim in all the money he had earned for him at the Eagle.

"How do you know that I don't have one." Negan came out of the bathroom, wearing a white robe as well, his tone absolutely serious. "The C Block is big."

Jesus laughed at the statement, while Daryl frowned, wonder and uncertainty on his face.

Negan smirked with a wag of his eyebrows, letting his comment stand as it was. He got some things out of the closet, searched for his favorite belt, put his black bracelet back on and snapped his fingers for Daryl. "Boy, go brush your teeth."

Daryl got up, trying to keep his eyes as long as possible on the TV, on his way out of the door. The light was still on in the bathroom, it was warm and smelled like Negan. His soap, his shampoo, his hair gel. It woke up the butterflies in Daryl's stomach, and then let them salute and stand to attention when a warning voice called through the door.

"Don't sniff my fucking towel, brush your teeth! You don't wanna miss breakfast!"

Daryl glared at the closed door, then felt bad for being disrespectful, and grabbed his toothbrush, starting on his task. He brushed until he thought it was enough foam in his mouth, then rinsed, rubbed two spots of toothpaste off the shiny silver faucet, and slipped out of his luxurious white robe, letting it fall to the floor, because he had to pee.
He sniffed his nose, opened the lid, aimed for the small, water filled hole in the porcelain bowl and then flinched and quickly covered his bare genitals with two hands, when a tall, fully clothed man entered the room, pinched a firm butt cheek when passing by, and riffled through his toiletry bag in search for his Jack Black chapstick in SPF 25.

"Don't let me distract you, young man."

Something warm spread all over Daryl's skin, up to his earlobes and cheeks, letting them glow pink. "'m done."

"Mhm." Negan found his totally manly lip balm, used it, slid it into his pants pocket, and then stood close behind his sub, swatting his ass. Hard. "Are you fucking allowed to lie?"

An electric shock shot through Daryl's insides, turning the warmth on his skin into hot goosebumps. "No." He wanted to turn around to hide against a broad chest, but didn't, and instead tilted his head to the side, when he felt a rough beard brushing his ear.

"Damn well right you aren't allowed to lie. I hate when you do it." Negan stepped another inch closer, pressing his clad crotch against a bare butt. "I also don't like the way you piss. That's not how good boys do it."

Daryl blinked through his tousled bangs, his heart pounding so fast it almost burst out of his chest. "Hm." He wasn't sure what he had done wrong or how he was supposed to pee.

"How do good boys use a toilet."

Daryl exhaled soundly through his nose, nervously fondling his penis. "Wash hands."

"They do wash their hands." Negan confirmed, his tone encouraging as he touched Daryl's shoulders to turn him around and push him down. "They also sit."

The shade of red on an otherwise pale face got even deeper. Daryl held his breath and didn't dare to look up when his bare thighs touched the slightly cool toilet seat.    

"Very good. That's how it works, right?" Negan corrected the man's position, making him sit straight, then grasped his chin and tilted it up for eye contact and forced himself between stiff knees. "You wanna spread your legs for me. Give me a nice view."  

Daryl wanted to shake his head, his throat feeling tight suddenly, as he stared up into a friendly face.

Negan gave him a moment to adapt, holding his chin in a firm grip. "You wanna sit like a good boy for me?"

The small, very shy 'Yes' came out almost 14 seconds before reluctant legs decided to follow through and open slowly.

"Nice job!" Negan watched with satisfaction as Daryl spread his thighs wide and straightened his shoulders. "Are you making me fucking proud before breakfast?" He got a raisin out of his pocket and shoved it between pale lips, then stepped a little bit closer, offering more contact. "Fucking good boy." He let go of the man's chin and allowed him to hide his face against his crotch, combing rewardingly through long strands of hair. "What do you wanna do for me now?"

Daryl breathed warm air into the rough fabric of Negan's pants, soaking the comforting body contact up like a sponge. He closed his eyes for a moment, clawing ten fingers into muscular thighs. "Wash hands." He really wanted to do that. With a lot of soap and water.

"Yes?" Negan stroked the back of Daryl's head, pulling longish hair between his fingers. "You don't wanna pee for me?" He asked it casually, tickling light fingertips down a sensitive spine, making his sub shudder on purpose. "Hm? But that would be so nice of you. I want to see it."

Daryl pulled his shoulders up when the ticklish feeling spread all the way down between his thighs. He wasn't sure if he wanted to pee when others were looking, but Negan wanted to see it and was so nice and friendly, that's why he decided to try. He contracted his lower muscles just to do something, then let loose because nothing happened, and dug his nose deeper into a warm groin, exhaling a stressed breath when his bladder just didn't want to cooperate. "'t doesn't work." He mumbled his defeat in low voice, thankful that he was allowed to hide his face.

A smile played around Negan's lips, making his dark eyes shine. "Sure it does." He squatted down with a sigh, placing his hands broad on Daryl's knees, spreading them an inch or two wider, as he first looked unashamedly at the man's fully exposed penis, hanging into the toilet bowl, and then up at an embarrassed face. "You want to be my good boy and piss while I'm watching? Show me your sweet puppy pee?"

Hot tingles whirred through Daryl's lower abdomen, spurred on by all the naughty words, spoken in deep dark voice, making his treasonous penis twitch. He wanted to squeeze his thighs shut but they were held securely in place, so he reached coyly between his legs, shielding his nudity, when he tried to answer the question. "Hm."

"Mhm." Negan copied the small nod he received, his eyes and tone serious. "Arms behind your back." He waited for his order to be followed. "You want to start your day with a fucking strike or will I get a real answer."  

Daryl lowered his gaze. "'want to show it." He didn't know why his voice sounded so truculent, he didn't meant it to. "'t jus' doesn't come out."

Negan snapped his fingers. "Look at me." He waited for blue eyes to hesitantly lock with his, then arched his brows. "You can't do it yourself, I'll make you do it for me."

"Hm." Daryl pulled his fingers behind his back, nodding. He had no idea how somebody else could make him pee, but he didn't want to ask, and instead wanted to be very polite to make up for his rude attitude. "Thank you."  

Negan got up, combing his fingers through tousled hair. "Nice answer, Daryl. That's how you wanna talk to me, right." He praised in low, steady voice, tilting the man's chin up. "You also wanna wash your hands for me. Soap and cold water. Then dress. It's time for breakfast."

----

At 9 AM on a sea day, the ship's private sun deck offered a quiet, peaceful environment for the early birds, who wanted to enjoy a nice breakfast out in the open. The only people around were a few members of the crew, getting ready for the day, putting lounge chairs out, or washing the deck, trying to be as discreet and invisible as possible, while the suite guests indulged into the copious breakfast selection in the Caribbean morning sun.

Daryl wrinkled his nose against the fresh breeze fanning his face, as he stared at the wide, blue, open sea unfolding behind the semi-safe barrier of the plexiglass railing, and then flinched when a loud 'Bong Bing Bong' came off the PA system, followed by a very enthusiastic, male voice.

'A verrrrrrry good morning ladies and gentlemen, this is your cruise director speaking. I'd like to inform you that we are currently cruising on 22 knots on calm seas, with a 72 degrees outside temperature. We're having a very sunny day ahead of us, so please use protection.' A chuckle resounded through the speakers. 'For your skin, too.' The man cleared his throat. 'Also, please note that we will have a cake decorating tutorial in the Wonderland restaurant at 9:30 for all of you interested, as well as the Gay Icons Panel at 11 AM on the lido deck, followed by the Mister Cruiser contest in the afternoon, and the big fetish party at night. We hope you have a great start into this sea day and enjoy your vacation.'

 "Uuuuh Mister Cruiser contest..." Jesus forgot about the delicious mountain of gluten free pastries on his plate, leaning to his right, to rest his chin on Negan's forearm. "I hope you'll participate and put all the other hunks on this boat to shame, Sir."

"He's busy." Rick stirred his coffee with a teaspoon even though he hadn't put sugar or cream into it. "And he has enough titles."

"True." Negan put a hand to the middle of Daryl's back, pushing slightly to straighten his posture, then tapped with one finger next to his plate, reminding him to eat. "But I would like to see you on stage. Go and win one for the family, Rick."

Rick snorted, avoiding his eyes. "Surely not."

"That'd be hot, though." Jesus purred, licking the glazed strawberry on his pastry. "I'll borrow you my new harness."

Rick squinted. "I'm not wearing a harness and I'm not taking part in a silly contest on this circus cruise."

"Shame." Negan pursed his lips, gazing across the table at his co-worker, as he sipped his matcha tea. He put the cup down. "Just as this tea. I asked for a fresh one."

The chair made a scraping sound on the wooden surface of the sun deck, as Rick got up, muttering something about how the staff was responsible to provide hot beverages, but grabbed the cup anyway and walked off.

Negan ignored it and instead snapped harsh fingers for his fidgety sub.  "Ksst. Hands on the table, thighs apart."

Daryl stopped squeezing his penis. He felt like he would maybe have to pee now, and the cool breeze brushing the back of his neck and the fine hair on his arms didn't help.

"You wanna tell me if you have to go." Negan took the glass of cold almond milk he had requested and held it to Daryl's lips. "Right? Drink this."

Daryl stared over the brim of the glass while he drank, thinking the tall angry man looked really pretty in the morning. And that he really wanted to pee for him. But not right now, even if his bladder itched a little.

Negan took the glass down when it was completely empty and handed a napkin over. "Good job. Now eat your eggs."

Paul didn't have to ask, to know what his brother-by-choice was going through. "Once he made me drink an entire pot of tea before bedtime and I was so exhausted that day that I fell asleep right away and my brain was still tuned off when I woke up in the middle of the night because I had to tinkle." He chuckled, licking some icing off his finger. "I was so zonked, I bumped against the door frame and then peed in front of the potty because I couldn't keep my eyes open."

Daryl huffed a laugh, imagining a sleepy Jesus with messy hair, peeing on the bathroom floor.

Negan cut his tomato, totally unfazed. "You said you could hold it as long as you want."  

"Yes, but I was horny when I said that and wanted to impress you." Paul pouted, kicking Negan's foot underneath the table.

"Oh, I was fucking impressed." Negan gritted his teeth and kicked back hard, leaving a mark on a lightly tanned shin. "You looked fucking hot when you cleaned up that fucking swamp on all fours."

----

"You wanna keep your hands off your dick and stop fucking fidgeting." Negan grabbed Daryl's wrist and dragged him out of the elevator. It wasn't a long way from the private sun deck to the Promenade with the souvenir shop, but they passed 6 public toilets and had to slow down every time because Daryl wasn't sure if he had to go or was just nervous. "Focus on me and try to remember where you saw the book."

Daryl sniffed his nose, thought for a second, and then scowled at two pretty guys from France who squealed excitedly as they recognized their dream man.

Negan sighed and rubbed his forehead, facing his distracted sub directly. "You need a time out?"

"Hm?" Daryl peered up through tousled bangs, feeling a bit confused and something in his lower belly started to itch again. He squeezed his thighs tightly together.

"Hm?" Negan copied the obvious bafflement in mocking manner, arching his brows, then stepped dangerously close into the man's space, almost nose to nose. "I said, I am under the fucking impression that my boy is in desperate need of a time out! Correct?"   

Daryl leaned backwards, his eyes big, before he avoided them, mumbling a stubborn answer. "No." He gestured defiantly with his forearm. "'assholes said you're hot."

Negan tried to contain his amusement seeing how outraged his sub was. "Well, I am fucking hot and you are not supposed to listen to random strangers, you are supposed to fucking focus on me!" He slapped Daryl's hand when the man nervously squeezed his penis again. "AND FUCKING KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF YOUR FUCKING COCK, BOY!"

A tour group from California walked by, very interested in the conversation between the celebrity cruise passenger and his cute boyfriend.

Daryl scrunched up his face underneath his longish hair and clenched his fists at his sides, but managed to keep his eyes on the angry man glowering at him.

"That's right, keep those eyes locked on me, boy. Learn where you belong." Negan held the serious stare. "I told you before, we have to hurry because I have to be on stage. Now I will be late. Is that cool?"

"No." The anger on Daryl's face melted and was replaced by guilt and red cheeks. "'m sorry."

"You need a time out or will you behave now."

Daryl shook his head and reached out to touch two of Negan's fingers, answering quietly . "'m good."  

"You need to take a piss before I go on stage?"

"No." Daryl hoped that was true, because there was some pressure tingling between his legs, but he really didn't want Negan to be any more late for his Q&A just because of him.

"Good." Negan hooked one of his fingers around one of Daryl's, and gestured with the other hand down the ship's promenade. "Where's the souvenir shop. Lead the way."

----

The 'Gay Icons of our Time - NEGAN Q&A' was scheduled for 11 AM in the open-air theater on Deck 5, but even at 11:25 the stage was still empty, and almost 3000 excitedly waiting gay men started to grow slightly impatient.

Another three minutes later, a collective murmur went through the crowd, that turned into approving cheers and applause of surprise, when a young man with pink muscle shirt and mirrored glasses entered the stage, his long hair waving around his face in the light breeze.

"Hello." Jesus smiled humbly and tucked some strands behind his ear, speaking uncowed to the large audience. "I know you're waiting for Negan, but he needs another moment, I guess." He held the microphone directly to his lips. "You know... serious Daddy business." The crowd 'whooed' enthusiastically. "So, what would you like to talk about in the meantime?" He put a hand to his ear when everyone yelled the name 'Negan' on the top of their lungs. "No problem. What would you like to know, I tell you everrrrrithinnng."

A cute guy in front row raised his arm, looking honestly distressed, his face a mixture between joy and tears. He babbled something inarticulate, sounding almost hysterical.

Paul understood him anyway. He spoke fluent 'fanboy'. "Negan is so wonderful?"

The young man nodded frantically, his eyes welled up with tears of lovelorn as he shouted an addition to his important message. "He is my everything!"

"Aww." Paul put five fingers above his heart, no sign of mockery in his voice. "I know how you're feeling, buddy. He is really special." He looked up when someone yelled from farther away.

"I LOVE NEGAN!"

Jesus threw a fist in the air, yelling back, "I DON'T BLAME YOU!" and earned a wave of cheers and happy whistles. He chuckled, sliding his glasses to the top of his head. "You're all awesome, you know that? I will tell you some private things about him just because you're so cool!" The crowd seemed to love the idea, rejoicing their young host. "Let's see..." Paul scratched the side of his bearded chin with one finger, thinking about something he could share without giving too much away. "He is a real grinch around Christmas time, he has a favorite pair of shoes that he wears almost all the time, he loves potato chips..." He nodded to the audience, then pressed his lips into a tight line, shaking his head. "But he won't eat them because he is also a health nut." The audience laughed and someone yelled, asking about Negan's factory and how it looked from the inside. "Huge." Paul took the microphone in both hands. "He only lives in a part of it, though. Most rooms are business related or not used at all." He snickered at the crowd. "But once, when he was on a business trip, his boy and I took some flashlights and went on a mission to explore the abandoned part, and it was SO. FUCKING. scary? I mean for reals. We saw things, people." He raised his brows, shaking his head at the thought of the horrifying opossum crossing their way. "Seriously, if you don't know what to do for Halloween? Come over for a tour, I dare you." The people laughed highly amused by the private anecdotes, and then fell into enthusiastic cheers of hysteria, when a tall, remarkably handsome man in leather jacket entered the stage, exuding confidence and full control, as he strode towards the center, his sub's hand firmly in his own.

Jesus turned around, smiling brightly, before he closed his eyes and let his arms fall slack to his sides, when a large hand slid to the back of his head, pulling him in for a hard, unambiguous kiss.

The audience went crazy, celebrating their idol and the forthright affection he showed towards his sub in public.      

Negan ended his self-assertive greeting with a last peck on Paul's cheek and took the microphone, turning to his fans. "Was he a good boy?" He received a joyous affirmation from 3000 people, "Well, no spanking then tonight." and gestured for both of his subs to sit on the chairs the crew had put on stage for them.

Jesus smirked, "Damn." kissed one of his Dads on the cheek, and took Daryl's hand to do as told.

Daryl flicked is head, looking back over his shoulder. The crowd was very large and other than at the convention in Washington, almost everyone was pretty, young, male and in summery, tight outfits, standing very close to the stage. He didn't like it. At all. But he went to sit on the chair as he was supposed to, a brand new book about ocean engineering on his lap.

"How are ya all doing?" Negan put a half empty water bottle on the ground, then unzipped his leather jacket because it was way too warm. "Sorry, I'm late." He smoothed his hair back, rising up to full stature, showing a soft, but disarming smile. "Do we have a microphone down there?" A member of the staff came running with the required equipment and tried to organize a queue in front of the stage for the people who wanted to ask a question, but the crowd wasn't very cooperative.   

Negan watched the chaos for a moment, then stepped to the edge of the stage, right in the middle, and eyed some of the unruly guys with stern look, snapping his fingers harshly, shook his head to one of them and waited another ten seconds until the behavior of his fans was more to his liking, before he gestured an 'OK' for the first person in line to ask a question.

"Hello I am Tomas, I'm from Portugal, thank you very much for coming." The man spoke in heavy accent and was obviously very nervous, having difficulties to keep his head up. "Since you are heavily into BDSM, I was wondering if you have any hard limits and what they are." He nodded and handed the microphone back to the staff-girl.

"Hello Tomas." Negan gave the fan a friendly look, liking his humble attitude. "I do have limits, as everyone should have. If someone tells you they don't have limits, please turn around and run." He nodded to the guy, not joking at all. "My hard limits are the usual I guess. Scat, permanent damage, anything with animals or children. I am also extremely turned off by rape play."

A guy with wet hair, wearing not more than bathing trunks stepped forward, grinning up at the pretty hunk on stage. "Hi. What is an instant turn on for you and whatever it is, can I do it to you?"

Negan chuckled. "Instant turn-ons for me are good manners, true, heartfelt submission and honest respect." He shrugged, adding a slightly husky. "And a hot mouth on my fucking nipples." 3000 horny men hollered their appreciation for this information and a young woman in a shirt with the print -NEGAN'S COCK FAN CLUB- fought her way up to the microphone.

She didn't have to introduce herself, the man on stage recognized her immediately. "Julia from Boise. How's the cruise going for you?"

"Hello!" The girl chuckled a shaky breath right into the microphone, smiling shyly. "It's great. The company is awesome." It really was. She had already two memory cards full of photos, because one sexy guy on this boat looked hotter than the other.

"That's true. Very manly." Negan purred with a wag of his eyebrows, earning deafening cheers. "And I know you're not here to see me, honey." He grabbed the water bottle from the ground, turned around and handed the microphone to Paul. "Go, say hi to Julia, she loves your channel." He took over his sub's seat, making it his own as he stretched one leg out long and leaned into the backrest, watching how Julia almost got a heart attack when Paul first called her a cutie pie and then climbed off stage for a hug and selfie.

Jesus looked a bit battered by the time the staff pulled him out of the crowd and helped him back up on stage, but he didn't seem to mind. "Thank you for the free groping session, guys!" He grinned widely, tucking tousled hair behind his ear and went back to his chair.

Negan didn't move in the slightest, so he just gave the microphone back and sat down on Daryl's lap, holding the book for him.

"That was fun. Next question." Negan smiled friendly at the chubby man stepping bravely up to speak in front of everyone. "Hi buddy."

"Hello." A bright, happy blush spread over the man's cheeks. "You seem always so incredibly patient and in control of every situation, but I was wondering if you have any pet peeves that really drive you crazy?"

"I do." Negan nodded. "I hate when people don't answer my questions, or just give me a shrug or some kind of grunt. Drives me insane." He looked to the side at his subs, arching his brows. "RIGHT BOYS?" Both nodded, looking a bit startled because they had been busy to look at a very detailed illustration of the majestic Titanic. Negan gave them a blank look, shaking his head, waiting for a sheepish 'Yes, Sir.' that came a little late.

"Oh wait!" Jesus leaned over, speaking into the microphone. "He also hates when someone slurps his soup or tea."

Negan slap-patted Paul's cheek. "Right. We aren't in fucking Japan."

The audience laughed at the interaction on stage, and a fan in badly fitting trousers and crinkled button down shirt stepped up to the mic, adjusting his glasses. "Hello Negan, I am a big fan of you and your work and I hope that I can step into your footsteps one day. I would like to know how you can train somebody to become a Dominant?"

"Not at all." Negan didn't have to think the question over. "You can teach a natural dominant person to become a better Dominant. Or you can train almost everyone the mechanical skills to be a top. You can teach them how to use a whip, or tie someone up. But that's just an act, it is fucking role play. You can't make someone dominant, who isn't naturally dominant. You can't give them the heart of a Dom, the desire to have power over another person, you can't give them the authority needed. It will always feel somewhat wrong and off. It won't make them happy. And I fucking guarantee you, every true, natural submissive will see right through your act and be reluctant to submit. Either you have it or you don't, and there is no shame in it. Be who you are and be fucking proud of it."

The crowd applauded and the slightly crushed man at the front of the line handed the microphone over to the person behind him, who was made to wait, because Negan unscrewed his evian bottle and held it to Daryl's lips, feeding him the rest water, then leaned in close to tell him something in private. 3000 people watched how the shy young man on stage spread his thighs a little wider on his chair and put his hands obediently on the armrests, far away from his crotch, before he received a tiny treat, shoved between his lips.

Negan held the empty bottle up, shaking the last three drops in it for his audience to see. "Who wants to buy a drink for the pup." A sea of eager hands shot up while hundreds of people shouted their willingness to serve and buy whatever the God on stage wanted.

Negan got up and beckoned a young man with leather factory-fan shirt over, handing him the bottle. "No alcohol." He went back to his chair, taking the new book out of Paul's hands and placed it on the floor, expecting full attention. "Next question."

"HELLO!" A confident guy with black shades and a lot of muscle stepped up, stretching an arm out in Negan's direction to present his fist. "You're the MAN! I saw a fisting demo of you two years ago and it changed my life forever!" The audience hollered behind him and then grew ecstatic when the blunt fan asked his question. "Any chance to see a demo here on the cruise?"

"Hi! Sounds like you found your passion." Negan grinned at his fan and snapped his fingers blindly in front of Daryl's nose for the immediate death stare he put on. "No demo here, though, sorry. The next will be next month in New York if you're interested."    

"Will be there! Keep up the great work, man!" The fan left, his fist held up high, encouraging the audience to applaud his number one idol on stage.

The next person wasn't as confident in the presence of the most beautiful man he had ever seen in his 23 years on the planet. "Could you teach me to kneel?"

The question was asked so quietly that Negan wasn't sure whether he had understood it correctly. "You want to learn how to kneel?" He got a shy nod as reply. "Sure, come up here then."

Jesus turned around on his place on Daryl's lap, nuzzling the side of his brother's face, to speak to him in private and kiss his cheek.

Negan handed Daryl the microphone to take care of it for a moment and went to the middle of the stage, greeting the shy man approaching him. He made him kneel down, straightened his back and shoulders, nudged his thighs wider apart with his shoe, and asked him to put both arms behind his back, then stood very close, his crotch three inches from the man's face. "Eyes on me." He snapped his fingers, speaking in commanding tone, waiting until the young fan looked up at him. "Good job." He rewarded the submissive posture and bravery with three fingers stroking through short, dark hair. The audience went nuts, and hundreds of people took their phones out to snap a picture of the tall, sexy Daddy on stage.

Negan let the fan get up and granted him a hug, because thick crocodiles tears rolled down red glowing cheeks. He took him by the hand to guide him off stage, then went back to his place, kissing Daryl on the lips for taking such good care of his microphone and not killing the weeping fanboy.

"Hi Negan, hi guys." A smiling man in his thirties waved at the three men on stage. "My question is actually for your sub if that is okay?" He looked at Negan for permission and then stepped aside, because the man with Daryl's drink came back, holding the full glass up. It was something orange colored with a red straw and fruity decorations.

"Is that for my puppy? Thank you very much." Negan gestured for Jesus to go and get it, then pointed at a handsome, very quiet man, who stood at the side of the stage with crossed arms, following the whole Q&A with hawks eyes. "You wanna go with Rick after the panel. He will give you a signed picture. Right?"

The guy handed the glass over to Jesus and took a humble bow towards Negan, telling him, 'Thank you so much!' without microphone.

Paul gave the drink to one of his Dads and knelt down next to Daryl's chair, leaning his head against the man's knee.

Negan sipped through the straw, making sure it was really no alcohol in it, and gestured for the original questioner to proceed. "Sorry for the interruption. You have a question for my subs?" He held the glass to Daryl, making him drink four big gulps, then made Jesus hold it.

"Yes, I would like to know what his-" The fan pointed at Daryl, not sure about the man's name. "What his kink is and what he would like to explore more since he is with you and probably was introduced to new things since then."    

Negan nodded, putting the microphone down as he looked at Daryl. "You want to answer the question, boy?"

Daryl sniffed his nose. He didn't want to speak with the silly microphone but he wanted to answer the question to prove that he was just as brave as the silly man who had been kneeling on stage earlier. So he gave a half shrug, half nod. "Okay."  

Negan couldn't deny his surprise, but tried not to show it, and instead propped his arm on the armrest of the chair giving his sub his full attention, holding the microphone far out of reach, to provide some privacy. "Yes? You want to share what your kink is?"

Daryl shook his head. "No." First he wanted to say it was bullwhips, but then he wasn't sure if that counted and if he understood the question right. Maybe kink was something entirely different.

"You want to say what you'd like to explore some more with me?" Negan gave him an encouraging smile, seeing his insecurity.

Daryl pointed at Negan's hand, feeling too shy to say the term out loud.

"Fisting?" Negan purred his guess and felt his heart getting warm, when Daryl's eyes lit up instantly. "Good boy. What else would you like to do more?"

Jesus sipped the drink he was holding, even though he had no permission, and tapped Daryl's knee, looking up at him. "Spanking, right?" At least that was what Daryl had told him once.

"Hm." Daryl nodded, glanced up and immediately lowered his head in shame, when he was reminded of the large crowd watching him.

Negan put a broad hand to the back of Daryl's collared neck, rubbing the warm skin and steel there soothingly, as he turned back to the man at the microphone. "Fisting and impact play. But Daryl is very open to everything I've introduced him to until now. Which is great and one of the many reasons I adore him." He said it as casually obvious as it was. "He is also pretty good with the single tail himself. Very skilled." He nodded at the audience. "So better don't mess with him."

"Thank you." The fan was about to hand the microphone back when he changed his mind and added something to his statement. "You have very good taste. Your subs are gorgeous, both of them."

"They are. Thank you." Negan nodded once. "We have time for two more questions. You wanna make them good."

Two guys stepped up to the stage, giggling. "Hello stud! You are the hottest guy ever!" One waved his beer bottle, before the other added the actual question. "How do you dress for a scene?"

"It depends on the scene, the location and the people. But usually I'm a leather guy. Boots, pants, sometimes a harness. I like to have my chest free."

Daryl watched Negan from the side, picturing him in the playroom at the factory, with a broad, hairy chest, a wonderful black latex glove and raisins in the pocket of his pants. He would have really liked to be there now. And near a toilet, because the pressure in his bladder was really bothering him by now. So badly that he couldn't sit still anymore and cold chills ran down his back when Negan took the glass out of Paul's hands and made him drink three more gulps. Big ones, while holding the straw for him. Daryl puffed his cheeks out with the fruity cocktail, his body refusing to swallow it for a moment.

"No. Down." Negan gave him a stern look and watched his sub' s eyebrows knitting, pure misery on his face, as he swallowed. "Good boy. You tell me when you have to go, right?"

"Yes." Daryl wriggled on his seat, feeling the skin behind his ears tickle and glow, as the tall angry man turned back to his audience and the last fan who was allowed to ask a question.

It was a young, friendly man with heavy Russian accent, wearing a grey Mickey Mouse -shirt. "Hello Negan, my name is Yegor. Thank you so much for this opportunity. I booked this cruise when I heard you are attending. Thank you also for introducing your beautiful boys, it is such a pleasure to see you together." He cleared his throat, fumbling with a small slip of paper where he had made some notes to avoid making mistakes in the foreign language. "I heard you speak, a few years ago at Folsom Europe about punishment. You said it is very important to provide aftercare when it is all done and I always wondered why, as in my mind, punishment is meant to hurt. If I cuddle my sub after a punishment then the reason for it becomes lost. I would like to ask you for your opinion and thank you again for giving us a chance to meet you in this pretty environment."

Negan listened carefully to the end, holding his finger in front of his lips to shush some loud people in the audience. Then he got up and walked to the edge of the stage to give his answer. "Thank you, Yegor. You are absolutely right, I did say that and it is something I feel very strongly about. After a punishment I will always give some form of aftercare." He rubbed his bearded chin, looking directly at the man with the microphone. "You see, subs can be the hardest on themselves. As a Dom, if I tell a sub he has disappointed me, his fucking world comes crushing down. Right? Add a punishment to that disappointment and his feeling of failure will increase tenfold." He arched his brows at the entire first row, not surprised that everyone was listening and paying attention. "So for a real punishment, one that has nothing to do with play, a punishment that follows severe misbehavior and breaking the rules… yes, of course there has to be a form of aftercare, because it is very hard for the sub, it will hurt, it will bring him down like nothing else." Negan reached a hand out, when he saw out of the corner of his eye that Daryl was approaching him, knowing there could only be one reason why he would dare to get up and walk across the stage in front of 3000 people. "Is it the same type or form of aftercare like after an intense scene? No, absolutely not. Do I wrap him up in a blanket, feed him chocolate, and hold him for hours on end, fuck no." His voice got softer automatically, when his sleeve was tugged, and he put five firm fingers blindly to the back of Daryl's head, pulling him close against his side. "Do I hug him, tell him all is forgiven and he is still my good boy? Yes, absolutely. I make sure that he knows and feels that the punishment is over and it is time to move on." He dug his nose briefly into long strands of hair, saying, "I know. We leave now, go get your book." for only Daryl to hear, and then raised his arm, addressing the cheering audience to thank them for coming. "Have a fucking great afternoon, guys! Hope to see you all at the fetish party!"

He guided Daryl off the stage under thunderous applause, followed by Jesus, who waved to the crowd grinning from one ear to the other when loud NEGAN-chants resounded through the ship's open-air theater and the entire fifth Deck. He loved how much his Daddy was worshiped, even in the middle of the Caribbean sea.

----    

The bathroom was like a warm, isolated cave, smelling like nice, familiar things, while the steady thrum of the ship's engines vibrated faintly through the walls and floor. It was the only sound for a long time and Daryl tried his best to concentrate on it, standing naked near the towel warmer, where he was supposed to wait. With slightly spread legs, his hands at his sides, far away from his crotch.

For the first three minutes it was not much of a problem. The urge to pee had almost vanished due to the agitation and pent-up tension of what was about to come. But then Negan had left the room and Daryl had been alone with his thoughts, his skin heating up near the radiator, seeing the toilet and sink and shower. It made his bladder itch and his toes wriggle. He wanted to call for Negan, twice, fearing he would lose the battle and just pee on the floor by accident. He held his breath, clenched his eyes shut, and after another twenty seconds broke the rules and squeezed his penis, trembling slightly as he leaned back against the fluffy warm towel hanging over a bar of the radiator at the wall. It felt so comforting against his bare skin, but it also made the need for relief even bigger.

Then the door opened, letting a slight draft of cooler air in, making the fine hair on Daryl's thighs stand for a second.

Negan didn't say anything as he closed the door behind him, wearing only a pair of pants. He put something down on the small shelf beneath the mirror and went up to Daryl, calmly grabbing his wrist to move a disobeying hand off a bare penis. "Turn around."

Daryl did, facing the 9 white metal bars at the near wall and the fluffy, folded towel draped over them.

"Hands to the wall."

Negan's voice was almost as warm and calming as the warmth coming off the radiator and Daryl didn't question the order, just put his hands up, left and right from the towel heater to the slightly cool tiles, and then flinched startled, when a large hand came down on his ass cheek, swatting him hard. Three times, making his fingertips curl against the glossy, white tiles.

"Are you allowed to touch yourself?" Negan's voice was still not angry or aggressive in any form, just a little scolding, but deep and soft. "I said you wait for me with your hands at your sides." Five fingers stroked the sting out of sore skin and then swatted the same spot again for a fourth time. "Right?"

Daryl nodded, arching his back. The urge to pee was still there but got mixed up with a pleasant throbbing, deep inside his bum and the wonderful hot feeling spreading all over his skin. "Yes." He leaned his forehead against the thick, white towel, soaking its warmth up.

"Mhm." Negan tickled his fingertips lightly up the man's spine, creating goosebumps. "Apologize."

Daryl made his back round, then arched it again, breathing heavily. His thighs trembled with the struggle to keep his full bladder from leaking. "'m sorry." Another sharp thwack, this time to the side of his thigh, made him gasp and tremble even harder. "Sir."

"Aha." Negan leaned close, tracing his tongue along his sub's spine, leaving a glistening wet trail, then pulled back to blow on it. "Why did you touch yourself without permission?" He blew again, loving the shudder going through Daryl's body, followed by a low whimper. "Hm? tell me the reason."

Daryl shifted his weight from one foot to the other, curled his toes and gasped again when cool air crawled along the skin of his back. "Try not to piss." He heard his own voice, hoarse and rough, coming in a strange pitch.

"But why..." Negan kissed Daryl's lower back with soft lips, slowly squatted down behind him, nipped a bare ass cheek and then scratched his fingernails gently along the inside of the man's thighs, up and down, watching muscles quiver and a cock twitch. "You want to piss for me, right? I want to see it."

A desperate sob escaped Daryl's throat. His breath coming fast and irregular, small keening sounds mixed in between, as he fought the overwhelming need to let go.

"You want to show me how good boys use the toilet?" Negan got up again, pulling Daryl back, flush against his bare chest, looping a safe arm around his tense body to hold him in place, as he spoke right next to his ear. "Hm? Would you like that?" He tapped his fingers on the man's flat belly, below his navel, then pressed down softly, just for a moment, before he tapped his fingers again, making Daryl writhe and tremble in his hold. "Show me what you've learned this morning?"  

Daryl wanted to cry, the itch and burn in his lower abdomen getting too strong to handle. He nodded, "Yes, please." not sure how he should actually make it all the way over to the toilet without losing control.

"Good boy." Negan let go of him instantly, stepping aside. "Go on, then. Show me." He watched Daryl squirm and gasp, watched him fight with his self control and eventually make three steps to the near toilet, sitting down on it, avoiding his eyes. "What did you learn." He spoke low but encouraging, keeping his tone positive, as he went up to his sub for much needed comfort. He forced himself between tightly clenched thighs, giving quiet commands in soft voice. "Spread your legs for me. Straight back." He stroked five fingers through long strands of hair. "Sit back a little, give me a real good view."

Daryl followed the orders he was given, spread his legs extra wide, but didn't put his arms behind his back and wasn't scolded when he clawed ten fingers into the rough fabric of Negan's pants. He exhaled soundly through his nose, hiding his face against a warm crotch. "'have to piss." His desperate statement was almost inaudible, muffled by dark denim, but Negan heard it anyway, soothingly stroking the soft skin behind pale ears and the back of a collared neck.

"Yes, you do. You want to show me your sweet puppy pee, don't you, boy."  

Daryl nodded resolutely, trying to relax and release the contents of his bladder, grunting into Negan's groin when nothing happened and his body was unwilling to urinate just like that.

Negan kept a hand broad and safe on Daryl's head, as he leaned over to the sink to fill a toothbrush cup with warm water. He squatted down in front of the toilet, and put the cup on the floor, spreading Daryl's thighs even more, to the point where it almost became uncomfortable. "Go, on puppy. Relax and let it out for me." He got heavy breathing and another desperate sob as an answer, and smiled, brushing gentle fingertips along the man's exposed groin. "Mhm, keep your legs spread. You wanna show me everything."

He watched a bare cock twitch, hanging into the toilet bowl, and tickled the inside of Daryl's thighs, his dark eyes glinting in satisfaction when a drop of almost translucent fluid formed at the tip of the man's dick. "Good boy." He kept on stroking bare, sensitive skin with feathery touches. "Sit straight for me, arms behind your back."

Daryl trembled all over, his body tense and hot. He corrected his position as he was supposed to, a shudder running over his electrified skin when Negan leaned in close and kissed below his navel, then licked the spot with wet tongue and blew damp air on it. And then his belly felt like exploding when suddenly warm fluid made contact with his skin and ran down his bare stomach and the insides of his thighs. He glanced down, seeing Negan pouring water from a toothbrush cup out over certain spots, whimpered loud in his throat and squeezed his eyes shut when finally a weak dribble escaped his cock, feeling hot and wrong, but once the first drops came out, all control was gone and it was impossible to hold back any longer.

"Good boy." Negan put the cup back on the floor and instead placed both of his hands broad on Daryl's thighs, keeping them wide open, as he watched unashamedly the shy flow of urine, pattering down into the bowl. "Look at you being so clever. Are you pissing like such a good boy for me?" He loved all about it. The blush of shame and pure relief on a heaving chest, wandering up onto a face full of assuagement, making cheeks and earlobes glow in pretty pink, slightly parted lips, and arms fidgeting obediently behind a very straight back, fighting to keep the position. "Making me fucking proud, right." As the flow got weaker, he reached out to fondle the man's penis and finally squeezed it from base to tip, milking the last remains out, wetting two of his fingers on purpose. "Doing such a great job for me, Daryl." He got up and cupped the side of his sub's head lovingly, smearing his wet fingers over pale pink lips. "Is that good? Tell me, puppy."

Daryl looked up through tousled bangs, his whole body buzzing with immense relief. It was like being completely empty, light and new in the best way possible. He licked his lips and nodded, enjoying all the praising words and look of pride on the most beautiful face he had ever seen. "Yes."

"It is good, right. You made something tasty." Negan smirked slightly, took Daryl's head in both hands and leaned down for a kiss, indulging in the unique taste, presented on wet, warm silk. It made him groan in deep appreciation. And he kept kissing, as he blindly unbuttoned his fly, freeing himself. He wound a hand in longish strands of hair, pulling back.  "Mouth on my cock. Make me cum."

The husky command shot right into Daryl's lower body, making his muscles twitch and insides tingle. He glanced up briefly, needing just a hint of extra confirmation, and then gave up his perfect posture and put his fingers on Negan's waist, wanting more contact as he opened his mouth and started to lick and slurp, exhaling a shy moan when he found a drop of pre-cum on a swollen cockhead. He curled his fingers into the open waistband of the man's pants and pulled them down two more inches, sliding closer to the edge of the toiletseat to have more access, and then peered up, submissively licking from base to tip, whimpering slightly at the sight of everything he venerated so much. A broad hairy chest, dark eyes clouded with lust, a perfect mouth parted and glistening from the last kiss. And then a wave of strong arousal washed through his body when large hands took his head in a firm hold, taking over full control, and deep, dark words complimented his efforts.

"Good fucking boy." Negan groaned, closing his eyes as he tipped his head back, reveling in the feeling of clumsy hands on his waist and a warm, wet mouth worshiping his cock. He heard Daryl moan along his shaft, felt an eager tongue curling along the underside of his dick and then cursed when he was swallowed down and a tight throat contracted around him. His fingers wrapped tightly into his sub's hair as he fucked himself in and out of the exquisite heat, his thumbs stroking the man's jaw, muttering filthy sweet things in addition to the sounds of gagging, smacking and spluttering, filling the room.

Daryl couldn't get enough, even when he got dizzy at times from the lack of oxygen. Having this tall, powerful man unashamedly groan and writhe under his touch was the most exciting thing ever and filled every inch of his body with pride and warmth. He could feel him swelling with every thrust, the head of his dick filling his throat, making clicking noises every time he breached the tight muscle to its entry. Daryl put his hands on Negan's ass to pull him close and went as far down as he possibly could, dug his nose and forehead into dark, coarse hair, earning obscene words of praise that made his own cock twitch and leak.

Negan gritted his teeth and slapped Daryl's cheek, pulling him off completely. He wanted to see it all, commanding in harsh tone. "Open!" He hooked his thumb behind the man's lower teeth, forcing his mouth wide open, as he pumped himself with the other hand, cursing at the sight of thick gooey saliva all around reddened lips and an obediently displayed tongue waiting for its reward. "Fucking slutty boy."  

Daryl looked up through his longish, messy bangs and dark blond lashes, a rush of excitement shooting through his chest when he watched Negan's eyes roll back, felt his hips jerk and heard him grunt and curse, as a gush of thick, warm fluid flooded his tongue. He moaned, shut his eyes to savor the feel and taste and then closed his mouth around Negan's thumb, sucking it needily and swallowed around it.

Negan chuckled deep in his throat, glancing down with hooded eyes, absolutely in love with everything he saw. "Yeah, you like that, don't you puppyboy." He pulled his thumb back, spread some cum around Daryl's lips, admired the sight for a moment, and then leaned down to kiss it off. Deep, slow and messy, melting a little bit when a shy tongue kissed him back and five clumsy fingers reached for his face, ran along his cheek and into his facial hair, scraping it fondly with short nails. It made him angle his head and decide that he would skip his afternoon schedule in favor of a long nap with his stark naked boy, wrapped tightly around his body.  

----

In the late evening, somewhere on the Caribbean sea, after a four hour afternoon nap, and a very satisfying dinner at the Grande, Daryl sat on the big bed of suite 14244 and watched as his rightful owner added the finishing touch to his outfit. It was fetish night at one of the ship's big indoor clubs and Negan was expected to attend, since no gay man on the planet had a stronger connection to the BDSM scene.

Daryl sniffed his nose, already hating every silly guy who would dare to look at the tall angry man and his awesome outfit. He wore tight, white pants tucked into black boots, a black belt and a tight black, uniform-like shirt, with short sleeves, accentuating his muscular, veiny arms.

Negan hung his mirrored sunglasses into the collar of his shirt. "What's with the grumpy face again." He took his favorite riding crop and thrust it into Daryl's hands, "Hold that for me." then adjusted his sub's leather harness, making sure it fit perfectly.

"'m not grumpy." Daryl held very still, glaring at the wonderful, impressive bulge in Negan's tight pants. He really wished they could just stay in the room where nobody else would see Negan or any of his perfect bodyparts.

"Mhm." Negan grasped the man's chin and tilted it up. "You will behave. It is the most important event here for me, right?" He arched his brows in a warning. "Be good."

Daryl sniffed his nose again. "Are we goin' home tomorrow?"

"Are we going home tomorrow?" Negan took his crop back and snapped his fingers, expecting his sub to get up and follow. "No, we will arrive at St. Marteen tomorrow and go off the ship to explore the island, right?"

The instant picture of a small round sandy island with a palm tree in the middle and blue water all around popped up in Daryl's head, as he got off the bed and followed Negan out of the room. "Can Paul come." Maybe they could climb up the tree together and pick a coconut for Negan.

Negan snapped his fingers again, patting the back of his thigh on the way to the elevators. "Everyone will go. It's a shore excursion." He tugged the crop underneath his arm, ignoring the squealing fanboys passing their way. "Boy. Here." He raised his voice a little, knowing exactly where his sub was looking.

Daryl suppressed a growl and forced himself to focus back on the hand signals he received, when the strangers took several photos of Negan with their iPhones, whispering how sexy he was and how they would volunteer to be his sex slaves for the night.

Negan stopped in front of the elevator's silver automatic doors, pushing a button. "How many marks do you have on the list." He grabbed the leather straps of Daryl's chest harness and pulled him close as they waited.

"Three." Daryl wore black briefs to his harness and 20- eyelet-lace-up boots, because Negan liked to see him in this particular outfit.

"Mhm." Negan wiped some stray hair out of Daryl's forehead. "What happens when you have four."

"Get somethin'."

"Oh yes? What do you get?"

Daryl wasn't sure and avoided his eyes. He really hoped it was time with Negan. "Can I work with you?"

A dark rumbling chuckle resounded from Negan's throat. "May you work with me?" The elevator arrived and he guided Daryl inside, tapping number 4 on the display. "You could. Or I take a day off and spend it with you."

Daryl's head shot up, forgetting the scary, moving glass-aquarium he was in. "Now?" They could go back to the room for fisting, more pee, and reading in the new book, instead of attending the silly party with all the fanboys.

"No, not now. You don't have four in a row yet. First you have to behave and earn another one." The elevator stopped and a friendly voice announced the arrival on Deck 4. "Oh fucking hell..." Negan sighed and took Daryl by the hand, because the whole lobby was packed with people, as if the entire ship had decided to gather on Deck 4 for some after dinner fun. It wasn't far from the elevators to the club, but most of the passengers were drunk by now and very sociable, groping, shouting Negan's name, and everyone tried to get a photo or at least a hug.

He strode through the crowd in quick pace, holding his head up, shoulders back and broad, chest out, five fingers wrapped like a vice around Daryl's hand, making clear that any attempt to touch his collared sub was a death sentence. And not for the first time he cursed the fact that he hadn't brought Eugene or Abe with him, or at least Simon, who had always done a great job to keep the masses at bay.

"Are you good, puppy?" He pulled Daryl close to his side, kissing the top of his head, as soon as they entered the party location.

"Hm. Yes." Daryl adjusted his black briefs, looking around in the crowded, dimly lit place. It looked like the Eagle, just nicer.

Negan squeezed Daryl's hand, then leaned to a person from the staff, exchanging some words, before he made his way through the room, dragging his sub along.

Gay men took their Fetish Parties serious. That's why Club Red on Deck 4 wasn't attended by people in Venetian masquerade masks, or stereotyped velvet gowns like from another century. No, gay men liked their fetishes straightforward and as unromantic as possible. Leather, latex, leash and collar, heavy boots and even heavier beats booming out of the speakers.  

Daryl knew the current song playing, because it was one of Paul's favorites and he always danced to it at the Eagle. And obviously, he did the same at sea on a cruise ship, because when Daryl looked to the right, he saw a young man with closed eyes, moving his body to the hard music, completely lost in the lyrics he loved so much.

Daryl tugged Negan's hand, pointing to the dance floor.

"He will find us." Negan stopped twice for a selfie, once to greet another Dom he knew, and then found the VIP lounge reserved for him and his friends.

Rick was already there and got up from his place when he saw his boss approaching. "You're late." He scowled a little, trying to cover his surprise to see Negan in an extremely sexy outfit he had never seen him in before.

"I'm here now." Negan liked the way his employee lowered his eyes in his presence. He also liked his outfit. Black pants and a long sleeved, very tight white shirt, hugging the man's well toned chest and shoulders like a second skin. "You look good." He leaned in close, making his compliment private. "Show me to my seat."

Rick tensed for a second, something hot shooting through his chest, before he gestured to a black leather arm chair in the middle of the lounge.

Negan smirked, nodding as he rolled his tongue behind his teeth and sat down, using all the space the chair had to offer, his arms on the armrests, his feet firmly on the ground, snapping his fingers for Daryl. "How do you want to kneel for me, show me." He pointed to the free space to his right.

Daryl was disappointed that he wasn't allowed to kneel between Negan's legs, or sit on his lap, but he did his best anyway. With his back straight, sitting on his heels, his thighs spread, facing Negan, and then opened his mouth when a black riding crop was put between his lips. He exhaled a shaky breath around it, because they were in public, but Negan smiled at him in the most friendly way, so he straightened his posture even more to be extra good.

"Nice job, puppy. You wanna hold it for me."

"Something to drink?" Rick tried to ask casually, making his offer no big deal.

"A beer." Negan got his phone out, reading a message from Simon.

Daryl watched the Cowboy-boots-guy leave, and then held his gaze obediently on Negan. No matter who came to ask for an autograph, no matter who tried to sneak a photo.  He even held his perfect posture when a rude man came just to tell Negan that he would like to suck him off. It took all his willpower, but he didn't move a muscle, just bit a little harder down on the crop.     

"Pretty boy." Negan leaned back in his chair, giving his sub a faint smile. "Making me fucking proud, right?" The tip of his tongue poked out between his teeth to wet his lips. "Working hard towards your reward, aren't you."   

Daryl smiled around the riding crop clamped between his lips. He would get four blue marks and a full day alone with the tall angry man. Even a room full of silly fanboys couldn't change that.

"Here." Rick came back with a glass of beer and nothing for himself, then sat down in the chair next to Negan, since he had the option, and started a conversation about the new show on HBO and the intern they planned to hire for the main store in Atlanta. "I liked the Asian kid. He seemed like a decent bloke."

"I think he's Korean." Negan leaned forward, holding a hand underneath his sub's chin. "Drop it." The crop fell into his palm and he held his beer out instead, making Daryl drink.

Rick squinted. "Since when is he drinking beer. I thought it was for you."

Daryl kept drinking, but his eyes darted nervously to the side at the comment.

Negan granted another big gulp, then pulled the glass back, watching Daryl lick his lips. "Good boy." He put the crop back into the man's mouth and sat back, drinking himself, before he turned to his employee. "I don't like your attitude towards him. I expect you to show more respect."

Rick huffed a bewildered laugh. "He's your sub, not your-"

"Don't!" Negan cut him off harshly. "He is my boy. He is collared. He will stay. You will show respect, you will treat him well at all times. Is that understood."

Rick held the hard stare a moment before he looked away, a faint smile on his lips that didn't reach his eyes. "Okay."

"Good." Negan handed him the almost empty glass. "He'll have a water."

Rick hesitated for a second before he got up, his nostrils flared slightly, but he brushed his hand over the top of Daryl's head as he walked past him.

----

At almost midnight, Negan mingled through the party crowd, spoke to the other guests, agreed to a few selfies, hugged three subs and another Dominant he knew from a different event, and accepted a drink that a young man in leather briefs and broad collar bought him.

Daryl hated everything about it, but he followed along anyway, carrying Negan's riding crop like a treasure in both hands. Not glaring, not scowling, showing his very best behavior. He earned a raisin for his efforts, a 'Good boy' spoken right next to his ear in deep, rumbling voice, and a kiss in the middle of the room where everyone could see it.

At 0:32 AM, Paul came back from the dancefloor, slightly sweaty, with a happily glowing face, flopping down on his boyfriend's lap for a hug and slutty kiss, just because he felt like it.

Daryl watched them for almost twenty minutes, laughing, sharing private jokes and making out openly. He felt a little jealous, but he didn't say anything because Jesus looked really happy.

At 0:58 AM, Negan throned on his heavy black leather chair in the middle of his private lounge, overlooking the common crowd, and blindly snapped his fingers before he held them out to his employee. "Phone."

Rick looked up, first frowned a little confused, then glared angrily, and finally handed his phone over in annoyance, because his boss didn't approve of endless texting with Shane.

At 1:19 AM, a man from Poland had found his way to the clubs VIP lounge. He was 58, very polite, and a Dominant himself. Negan and Rick seemed to like him and engaged in a conversation about a European leather event and politics.

Daryl had done his best to listen, but Jesus thought the topic was boring as hell and therefore crawled over to Daddy's sub and involved him in a kiss. A sweet innocent one at first, but it grew more serious when Daryl sighed damp breath against seducing lips and started to kiss back with a shy hand on Paul's cheek.

Negan glanced down after a few minutes, watched his boys making out, kneeling right next to his feet, and ruffled Daryl's tousled hair encouragingly, before he nodded at Rick and his guest to agree with their point of few about Putin and Russian foreign policy.     

At 2:09 AM, the CEO and Owner of the worldwide successfully operating Leather Factory did a demo in the middle of the crowded club, showing hundreds of BDSM enthusiasts how to knot an overhead chest harness, one of his favorite bondage ties. He used a red twenty-foot rope on Paul Rovia's bare chest and arms, explaining the details and every single step in clear, steady voice, having the undivided attention of everyone around.

Most of all from his very attentive boy, who knelt obediently by his feet in perfect submissive posture, looking up at him with mooneyes, as if he were the smartest, most perfect man in the entire universe.   

At 3:11 AM, a tall, handsome man with slicked back hair and perfectly trimmed beard, wearing tight white pants to his black, spit shined boots, talked to a group of men about business, sharing a bottle of expensive red wine that was a gift from the house.

Daryl knelt between his spread legs, his head resting on a muscular thigh, fighting to keep his eyes open. It was tough, listening to the deep, dark voice talking and laughing, feeling five fingers playing absently with his hair, surrounded by the scent of leather and pure Negan.

He lost the battle at half past three, his face squished against a wonderful, impressive bulge.    

At almost 4 in the morning, Daryl Dixon reported, stored a riding crop away with the handle up, and proudly made his fourth cross in a row on his list at cabin door 14244. He had earned it.

At 4:43 AM, somewhere on the Caribbean sea, a young man was lying peacefully in his owner's arms, lulled to sleep by the steady thrum of the ship's engines, holding a crinkled, black latex glove in hand, while soothing fingers combed through his hair.

Chapter Text

After a long party night at Club Red and a wild running mind that just wouldn't shut off, Rick barely had 3 hours of sleep. He felt tired, he felt drained, and looking at the curled up figure snuggled up to his side, he felt like a failure. A big one. It made him angry. With himself, the whole situation, and most of all with the man he had given everything up for a few years ago. His perfect life, with wife and kids. His house. His mainstream job. Even the apple tree in the back yard. It was pathetically tiny, but still he had planted it with his own hands, like a real man should do.

He missed it sometimes. His old life, that was so much easier, structured and valued by others. His old life, where he was someone who fit in and did what was expected of him.

But if he had a choice, he wouldn't want it back, either. He wouldn't want to go back to lies and secrets, feeling like a traitor and abnormality, like something was wrong with him.

If he had the choice, he would always pick him. This wild, vigorous man, who was maybe a bit crude sometimes, but always genuine. This man, who had turned his life around and made it an exciting adventure, instead of a big charade.

But he didn't have a choice. All he could do was waiting and hoping that in the end he would be chosen. That his man would come back, to make everything good and right again.    

He stared at the nightstand, stared at his phone, trying to resist the urge to be the first to write a message, and then felt his stomach clench and heat spread through his chest, when it vibrated with a dull sound. He knew it was him, and it made him incredibly happy and awfully angry at the same time. He waited reasonably twenty seconds before he took it and felt relief wash through his tense body, when it wasn't another accusation, but just civil words.  

Shane Walsh
Hey Cowboy. Awake?
25.02.2017   7:32 AM

He couldn't stop the tiny smile from curling around his lips. He couldn't help but to caress the shiny display of his new smart phone for a moment with his thumb, imagining Shane's voice saying these words.

Yes. Had a good night?

He sent it and wished he would have had the courage to say so much more.

Shane Walsh
Not really. Can I call?
25.02.2017  7:35 AM

Rick pinched his nose, not sure what to say. He wanted to hear Shane's voice. But maybe he didn't want to hear what he had to say.

A minute.

He got up, trying not to wake Paul, and went into the bathroom, sitting down on the brim of the tub, to wait for the phone to ring. Still, the noise startled him, something hot shooting through his stomach, before he tapped the green call-button on the confusing display. "Hey."

'Hey. Are you with him?' The question didn't sound reproachful, but kind of defeated.

"No." Rick answered apologetically anyway. "No, but Paul is still asleep. I went to the bathroom."

'Hm.' There was a short pause. 'How's the chipmunk doing. Enjoying the vacation?'

"He does." Rick rubbed his forehead tiredly. "As long as he's not alone with me, I guess." He huffed a laugh, and wasn't sure why. "I'm kind of a let down lately."

'You're not a machine. He understands.'

"I guess." Rick knew that Paul understood. But that didn't make up for the fact that these blue eyes had lost their sanguine twinkle in the past weeks. The thought made him angry again, reminding him of the root and cause of this situation. "Why did you call."

'I've had a talk with some people here. I will extend my stay for a week or two.'

Rick squinted, his tired brain needing a moment to understand the underlying message. "That's... good? I'm glad."

There was a sniff through the phone and a moment of silence. 'Will you still be there when I'm back.'

Rick got up from the bathtub and looked at his own reflection in the mirror, before he turned to the wall, poking at a tiny bump in one of the glossy white tiles. "What do you want to hear. You broke up."

'I know.' The voice coming through the phone was anything but negating. 'I thought it's better that way. But maybe it's not.'

It was all and everything Rick had hoped and waited for, for weeks and endless sleepless nights. But now, that it was actually reality, he didn't feel as happy and relieved as he thought he would. "We have to see. It's not that easy."

There wasn't a reply for a long time, and when it finally came, it lacked a question mark. 'You want to be with Negan.'

Rick watched his fingertip tracing the grout lines between the tiles. He could have denied it, but for some reason, a defiant part of him didn't want to make it that easy for the man who had ripped his heart out and stomped it into a lump of nothing. "I have to think of Paul. It can't be us three again. He suffered. Still does."

'I know.' It sounded honest. 'I hope we can work it out.'

It wasn't a lie, Rick knew that. But the picture of them together again, all three, driving in a car out of town on a Sunday morning, singing along to a silly country song from the radio, was suddenly as surreal and implausible, as a photo of UFOs and little green Martians. He wanted to say exactly that. That there was no going back after a certain point and there couldn't be redemption for some things. That they had both failed in their responsibility for their submissive. That this sweet, young man had trusted them with every fiber of his being, and they had fucked it up. Big time.  

But he didn't say it. It wasn't the time to discuss things like that. "I am glad you stay longer. Maybe I can visit you next week."

'That would be nice.' Shane's voice didn't sound happy. It wasn't the answer he had hoped for, and the only way he could cope with it was to change the subject as quickly as possible. 'What will you do today. Bingo again?' He huffed a laugh.

"Shore excursion. Beach day."

'Hm.' Jealousy oozed through Shane's brain, but he tried his hardest to hold it back. 'Will you go with him?'

Rick didn't have to lie and pretend to answer that. "Actually I thought I'm doing a day alone with the boy. If he wants to."

'He'll love it.' Shane was sure about that, and a little spark of hope swirled through his chest, knowing his man wouldn't spend the day with Negan. 'Send me a picture. Wish I could be there.' He paused, not sure if he would go too far. 'Buy you some ice cream.'

Warm wonderful things spread through Rick's chest, gathering around his heart. He smiled, closing his eyes. "Will send you a photo."

Shane could hear the small, warm pitch that was suddenly in Rick's voice and it made him smile as well. 'Well, I let you go then. Tell the chipmunk I said hello.'

"I will." Rick wanted to crawl through the phone, right into strong arms and stay there for the rest of his life. "Talk to you later." But he was in the middle of the Caribbean sea and his man in rehab after terrorizing the family with drunken violence. He took the phone off his ear, stared at the display in search for the red button, and then just couldn't push it. "Shane?" He waited a moment, hoping there was still a connection, and clutched the phone with both hands close to his ear when he heard a calm, steady 'Yes, I'm here'.

He paused a moment and then felt like the happiest man alive and the worst back-stabber ever. "Me too."

----

"Good mor-" Jesus ducked his head and lowered his voice when Negan held a finger to his lips. "Good morning, Sir. I'm bringing breakfast."

Negan closed the door behind him, running a hand through his unusually messy hair. The night had been far too short. "Why. It's not father's day yet." He rubbed his bare chest tiredly.

Paul put the tray down on the table and went to hug one of his Dads for a proper greeting. "I know. I just needed an excuse to see you this early." He smiled, getting on his tip toes for a small kiss. "You know I'm digging the freshly fucked-look, Sir."

"Mhm." Negan glanced down, returning the affection. "And you couldn't admire me later?" He wrapped his arms around a slender waist. "Had a fucking long night."

"Nope." Jesus grinned, kissing again. "I was invited to a romantic getaway, and it starts in..." He craned his neck to see the clock on one of the TVs. "65 minutes."

"Is that so. Did you make out with fucking Batman again?"

"It was Spiderman." Paul clarified, loving his Daddy's unkempt hair to pieces. "And he didn't invite me. It was my boyfriend." He raised higher up on his toes, nuzzling the scruff on Negan's cheek. "He requested some alone time."

Negan turned his head, kissing the man's hair. "That what you want?"

Paul nodded into the crook of Negan's neck. "It's perfect, Sir."

Negan pulled back. "Eyes on me." He was granted a confident look out of soft, blue eyes, along with a bright smile. "Tell me what you want."

The bright smile faltered a bit, getting clouded with graveness. "What we had before. A big happy dysfunctional family."

"Mhm." Negan studied his sub's face, tucking some hair behind his ear. "You are a smart little fucker. You know chances are it won't be as it was before."

Paul shrugged, holding the scrutinizing stare. "I'd be okay with that." He ran his fingertips through the short hair at the back of Negan's neck. "We can still be together."

"Yes? You'd be okay if he wants to explore his submissive side?"

Paul smiled genuinely, "I'd be happy for him." then shrugged again. "It doesn't mean that I have to be a part of it."

Negan kept his face serious. "You also know that I'd be not fucking okay with it, if Shane moves in with you guys again. Not right away."

Jesus looked at Negan, shrugging a third time. "They can have the house, I stay with you and my puppy boo." He smirked, pecking the man's lips, then looked back over his shoulder, "Speaking of... is he still asleep? I was hoping for a little snugglefest before I have to go."

"Mh." Negan drew his lips in. "You wanna look at me."

Paul did, smile firm in place.

"No fucking matter how things work out with your Ma and Pa. You'll always be my boy. It won't change, as long as you don't want it to change."

The smile grew softer and wandered up to shine in blue eyes. "Even when I'm old and wrinkly?"

"Even then." Negan meant it and patted his sub's ass. "Now go serve that breakfast. Daddy's hungry."

----

The fluent clicking of a keyboard seeped into Daryl's sleepy brain, followed by breath tickling the side of his face and a hushed voice speaking right next to his ear.

"Wake up, wake up, wake up." Jesus whispered his urgent plea for two minutes, lying so close, his lips were brushing Daryl's earlobe. "Wake up, wake up." He had no permission to cuddle Negan's stark naked sub as long as he was asleep and couldn't give consent. Which was like torture, because Daryl slept as he always did, on his back, hands up on the pillow, knees pulled up, his thighs widely spread. "Wake up puppy, I need to suck you, pleeeaaase."

"Boy." Negan didn't look up from his laptop, blindly fishing for his last bite of bagel from the tray on his nightstand."Behave, or I'll gag you."

Such a promise didn't help at all, making Paul's tongue poke out to taste a pale ear. "Blink once, if you want me to slobber your belly button."

Daryl inhaled deeply, stretching his back before he blinked his eyes open, finding a tall man with bare chest sitting next to him in bed, working on his computer.

"Are you awake, puppy?" Negan didn't have to look to know it, sending another finished e-mail out.

"Hm." Daryl scratched his belly and closed his eyes again, noticing another warm body next to his. He snuggled his face somewhere between Paul's shoulder and long hair that smelled freshly washed. "'have four."

"You do have four." Negan confirmed, sucking one of his back teeth with his tongue. "I'm just finishing all my mail, so I can take the day off." He reached out to pat the inside of Daryl's spread thigh. "You wanna have some breakfast with Paul in the meantime?"  

"Hm." Daryl listened, feeling all warm and happy. It was the best morning he ever had.

"Mhm." Negan pinched his sub's skin hard. "You also want a strike with your fucking oatmeal?"

Paul chuckled into the crook of Daryl's neck. "Tasty."

"No." Daryl turned his head into the other direction, nuzzling Negan's bare arm. "Can I do my job." It sounded more like a defiant question than a polite offer, because he felt a little embarrassed to say it out loud.

But Negan didn't seem to mind. "May you suck me off?" He looked down at Daryl, adoring his tousled hair and slightly blushed cheeks. "You do it later in the shower, right? When I'm done with work."   

The image of a naked, dripping wet man, standing tall and mighty in the shower stall with a very hard penis, popped up in Daryl's head, making the blush on his cheeks turn a little deeper. "Okay."

Negan smirked, glancing back at the screen when a new mail arrived. "But you may wish me a good morning now, like a good boy."

Daryl stroked the fine, dark hair on Negan's arm with the tips of his fingers. "Mornin'."

"Hm." Negan wasn't convinced. "Like a good boy, I said."

Jesus gave the side of Daryl's collared neck a wet lick, purring a suggestion. "He means in french."

Daryl didn't speak a foreign language and tensed insecurely.

Negan finished a short answer to Eugene, then put his laptop on the floor and turned to lie on his side, propping his head on his arm. "I meant like a good boy."

Daryl sniffed his nose almost soundless and planted a clumsy kiss on a warm mouth. "Good morning." He blinked once and avoided his eyes, adding a small, 'Sir' to his shy greeting.

Negan didn't move for a long moment, studying his sub's features. Then wiped some hair out of a pale forehead, cupped the side of Daryl's face with firm fingers and leaned in for a very lazy, very deep kiss. He moved half on top of him, groaning, letting his hands roam over a bare chest and down between obediently spread legs. "Good morning." He went straight past the man's cock, fondling his balls instead. "Did you like sleeping next to me?"

"Hm." Daryl nodded, spreading his thighs some more.

"Mhm." Negan licked the corner of Daryl's mouth. "I'm sure you want to answer, I'm having your sweet puppy balls in my hand." He squeezed just a little to elucidate his threat.

"I like it."

"Oh yes?" Negan brushed his nose along a warm cheek. "Because I smell good?" He dipped his tongue between damp lips, slowly rolling it through wet, warm silk.

Daryl exhaled warm breath into the kiss, touching Negan's ear and neck. "Yes."

"Yes, I do, right. I also keep you safe all night and make sure nobody touches my boy while he's dreaming of me." Negan stroked the inside of Daryl's thigh gently, kissing his lips like he was the most precious thing in the world. "Isn't that true, puppy."

"Yes." It was a quiet answer in very reverent tone.

"Mhm." Negan brushed his beard against Daryl's cheek, "You want me to finish my work now, so I can spend the day with you and spoil you fucking rotten?"

Daryl blinked his eyes open, nodding avidly, "Okay." He wanted that more than anything else.

The corner of Negan's mouth tipped up into a half smile, making one of his dimples visible, even through the scruff on his cheeks. "Okay." He leaned in for a last kiss, making it slow and languid, as he stroked his hand up the man's chest, to a collared neck, beneath longish hair, before he broke off with a broad lick and turned his head to Paul. He nudged their foreheads together without a comment, then kissed him as well, ending with a low growl, because the possibility of skipping the seven waiting e-mails in his inbox, and instead fucking his boys into oblivion seemed very compelling all of sudden. He nipped Paul's lips, "You wanna feed your brother breakfast." then pulled back, sat up, and fished for his abandoned laptop to continue his chores.

"He said brother." Jesus nuzzled Daryl's ear, chuckling. "I bet Merle would be so annoyed if he had suddenly two younger siblings."

Daryl listened to the happy words spoken into his tousled hair and huffed a laugh, "Hja." Merle would sigh and shake his head because he would have to share his beef jerky with two little shits instead of one. Then he would demand fucking silence because he could certainly not concentrate on his naked-girls-magazine while someone was making his ears bleed with girly gossiping.

"I could bribe him." Paul licked Daryl's cheek. "With cake. Everyone likes people who bring cake."

Daryl turned his head to look at Paul, wriggling his nose because it itched, then sniffed it. "You can come to the prison." They could all eat sandwiches from the vending machine in the visitors room.

"Sure?" Paul grimaced at the prospect of dangerous criminals greeting him through the bars with a hail of catcalls. "What if I accidentally drop the soap? I mean I'm sensitive down there."

"Yeah right." Negan snorted, not looking up from his screen as he flipped through some product samples from a small company in Michigan. "Mister double punch."

Daryl sniffed his nose again, blinking through his tousled bangs. He had no idea what the conversation was suddenly about.

Paul rolled his eyes and shook his head just for Daryl to see, mouthing a soundless 'Not true at all' to confute this untenable accusation.

"What was that?" Negan arched his brows, still not taking his eyes off the e-mail on his computer.

A sugary sweet instant-smile found place on Paul's lips. "Nothing Sir, I just said St. Marteen is certainly pretty."  He shook his head again, holding a reassuring finger in front of his lips when Daryl looked at him in utter shock for telling such a blunt lie.

"Mhm." Negan swiped his finger over the touchpad. "And I said you wanna have fucking breakfast with Daryl, or I flush that vacuum toilet with your disrespectful ass parked on it."

Jesus winced, wrinkling his nose. "Please don't, Sir." He was too lazy to get out of bed and walk all the way through the room to Negan's nightstand where the tray was, so he just climbed over a naked Daryl and leaned over his Daddy's chest and laptop to reach for a banana and a peach, pressing the Ctrl-,G-, and 4-key by accident. "Almost... just a second, Sir." He snagged half a gluten-free raisin bun with two fingers, put it between his teeth for easier transport, and sat back on his place, biting a piece out of the pastry and handed the rest to Daryl.  

Negan glared at the chaos on his screen before he gritted his teeth at boy number two, who hunched his shoulders and sheepishly peeled a banana for Daryl.

"You can have a bite." Daryl sat up, guiltily holding the raisin bun to Negan's lips.

Paul thought that was a great idea and held the banana up for one of his Dads as well, shrugging. Maybe he should book a relaxing massage for Negan at the Spa on Deck 5.

----

Rick Grimes
No, a round-island trip. I booked it here on board.
25.02.2017   8:45 AM

Negan read the message, sipping the last drops of his green juice on the balcony. They had almost reached the port.

Sounds fun. Don't forget your sun blocker.

Actually, it didn't sound fun at all, sitting in a non-air-conditioned bus with 20 other tourists for six hours, to see the so-called sights of a place where really the only attractions were the nude beach and the rum distillery.

Rick Grimes
Will we have dinner tonight?
25.02.2017   8:48 AM

Negan went back inside, closing the balcony door behind him.

Pick a place and let me know. Around eight is good.
Boy-friendly. It's his reward day.

He looked into the bedroom, finding both of his subs passionately making out on the bed. Cheeks glowing, hands roaming, legs entangled, the faint sounds of panting and wet kissing filling the room. He watched for a moment, loving the sight of a fully clothed Paul and completely naked Daryl, tightly entwined. Paul seriously humping Daryl's bare crotch, having him rock hard and writhing.

"Are you still not done?" Negan went to lie next to them, on his side, his head propped up on his arm. He reached out to caress Paul's clad ass, encouraging his rocking motions. "Wanting to fuck my Daryl so bad, don't you."  

Jesus groaned, having difficulties to open his eyes, as he broke the kiss and tried to focus on Negan. "Yes." His voice was husky and full of lust at this point. He groaned again, feeling five strong fingers massaging his ass. "Please, may I, Sir."

The needy plea made Negan chuckle deep in his throat. "Do I share my puppy?"

Paul shook his head, panting an inch above Daryl's lips, "No, Sir." then kissed him with a moan when they parted for him, searching for contact.

"Mhm. That's right." Negan confirmed, stroking Paul's hair lovingly. "But you may suck him off for me, like a good boy."

A muffled moan escaped Paul's throat. He circled his hips, grinding them down once more, before he broke the kiss and leaned over to Negan, pecking the corner of his mouth. "Thank you, Sir." He combed three fingers through Daryl's hair and moved down, making himself room between the man's legs by shoving them wider apart, and instantly started on his task, engulfing the offered dick hungrily.

Daryl's hips shot off the mattress, then he pressed them down hard and arched his back, not sure what to do with his body, when heat, wetness and pleasure exploded around him. He whimpered, and felt incredibly thankful as a very large, very safe hand cupped the side of his face and he was able to hide in it.

"Is that so nice, puppy?" Negan cooed, absolutely adoring Daryl's pure, innocent reactions. He leaned in closer and brushed his nose along a red, warm cheek. "Hm? What happens. Who is sucking your sweet cock for me." He felt hot breath being exhaled against his palm and glanced down, seeing Jesus performing his best deepthroating techniques. "Tell me."      

Daryl keened, putting his own hand above Negan's and five fingers down on Paul's head, his mind having difficulties to process the situation. He felt his thighs tremble, tensed, and sobbed, as heat shot through his body, gathering in one spot somewhere in his lower belly. "Paul Rovia."

A soft smile made Negan's eyes shine. "Mhm. It is Paul. He makes you cum, right?" He watched Daryl's fist closing vice-like around one of his fingers, his whole body starting to shudder, his chest heaving. "Yeah, good boy... you wanna shoot your load for me." He rested his nose and forehead against the side of Daryl's face, speaking against his heated skin. "Give my Paul a nice reward." He heard another choked out sob, spluttered against his broad palm, heard Jesus groan in pleasure just a second later, and smirked when a wet, pink tongue poked out to lick the inside of his hand, and heavy breaths being exhaled noisily through a blocked nose.

He chuckled and kissed Daryl's cheek when the phone rang. "Yes."

'I thought you send him. Our tour starts in thirty minutes.'

Negan glanced down at boy number two, who licked bare, very wet genitals clean, looking deeply satisfied. "Two minutes. He's finishing his breakfast."

Chapter Text

The island didn't look like anything Daryl had imagined, as he sat his first foot onto dry land after three days at sea. It looked just like the place they had started from, a grey pier with people, some cars and buildings in the background. No sand, no coconuts, no palm tree in the middle. It wasn't even round. Just normal land, like Georgia.

"Boy. Here." Negan snapped his fingers, exchanging some words with Rick before their ways parted for the day.  

Daryl sniffed his nose and squinted up against the bright sunlight, holding a hand to his forehead to shield his eyes, as he turned around. There was the huge white metal building again, with all the tiny windows and hundreds of balconies. It was the cruise ship just within his reach. There wasn't water around, it stood flush with the grey pier.

As he went two steps closer, and peered down, he saw that there was a small gap and a bit dark water in between, but it was still close enough to touch it. So he made another step and reached his hand out, smiling a little when his fingertips really brushed the cold, white metal skin of the ship. He pressed his palm against it and looked up, stunned by how huge it really was. He wished Merle could see it.  

"BOY!"

A loud voice made him flinch startled and pull his fingers back, as if he had burned himself.

"He touched the butt!" Jesus smiled brightly, nudging one of his Dads at the on-point recitation of 'Finding Nemo', but earned just confused looks. "Really? Am I the only Disney fan here?"

Negan cocked an eyebrow, "Yes." and went to collect his eloped puppy before he could fall into the harbor basin and catch a million diseases from this pestiferous cesspool they called ocean water.

"Well, we'll start then." Rick called after his boss, gesturing to the vehicle in retro-style, the tourist guide had described as bus.

"Be good." Negan didn't turn around or specify who he was talking to, instead he grabbed his non-swimmer sub by the hand and dragged him into safe distance to the dirty water and fucking boat. "You don't wanna touch that. It's full of mold spores and fucking bird's shit."

----

Although the small island wasn't more than 9 miles wide, the sea disappeared completely from view, lost behind a seemingly impenetrable screen of vegetation and overgrown hills.

Daryl stared out of the car window, clutching his backpack on his lap. He tried to ignore the taxi driver who was chattering the whole time in a mix of English words and a weird foreign language, smiling happily while he maneuvered his rather old, strange smelling car through a scenery of pastel colored shops and houses, and streets filled with local people and tourists, wearing shades and big sunhats.     

After twelve minutes he stopped on an almost empty parking lot, near some fancy white buildings with red roofs and palm trees all around. "Grand Case beach club!" He grinned widely, announcing their current destination with utter pride, as if he had build this paradisian place all on his own.

Negan went through his wallet, pulling a generous amount of dollar bills out and handed them over. "Daryl." He snapped his fingers, opening the car door. "Don't forget the bag."

Daryl climbed out, glancing back over his shoulder with a gruff "Bye." when the joyful driver bid his farewell in effusive manner. He looked around and shouldered the backpack, keeping his hands on the straps, as he followed Negan through the grounds, walking a bit awkwardly in his borrowed Hugo Boss flip flops.

It was sunny, hot and the air smelled nice, like in the big dining room on the cruise ship, but additionally mixed with a hint of coffee and ice cream. They walked past some of the white building, flower beds with colorful, exotic plants, people in posh, summery outfits, a tiny bird picking on the neatly trimmed lawn, along a narrow walkway lined with nice streetlamps and palm trees, across a busy promenade, out into a wide, open space.

He stopped, frozen in place. There it was. The ocean. Ridiculously beautiful, presenting itself in an intense bright blue, that looked almost unreal. It was exactly like he had seen it on pictures or on TV, with sugary white sand in front of it, spread out for miles, as far as his eyes could see.

Negan slid his shades from the top of his head back on his nose, jogging the first three steps down from the club's promenade towards the beach, and then stopped and looked over his shoulder when he noticed that Daryl didn't move. He just stood there, ten fingers clawing to the straps of his backpack, completely awe-struck, as if his eyes had forgotten how to blink. "Come here. Take your shoes off." Negan crooked two fingers, holding a hand out.

Daryl made two steps closer, one downwards, and lowered down to sit on the top of the warm concrete stairs, not taking his eyes off the fantastic mass of blue water in front of him. He reached blindly for his shoe laces, until he realized that he wore a pair of weird flip flops from Negan, and just slid out of them. "'s it the Atlantic ocean?" He flicked his head to the side to get some hair out of his eyes. This water didn't look at all like the scary sea they cruised on for days now.

Negan took his Ray Ban's off, seeing his sub squinting against the bright sun. "Here, put them on." He grabbed the shoes, put them together at the soles and held them out as well. "It is the Caribbean sea. It's part of the Atlantic ocean. Right? Now you wanna pick a nice, clean beach chair for me and relax your gorgeous ass next to mine."

----

The Grand Case beach club provided every luxury imaginable for their guests, especially for those having the necessary wherewithal. Comfy beach chairs with thick cushions of the best quality, discreet service staff that magically appeared every time a glass was empty or a different angle for the umbrella was needed, large towels, and complimentary bottles of the finest french table water.

"You wanna drink."

Daryl thought it tasted horrible. Like salt and metal. But he drank it anyway, because the tall man resting next to him on one of the sun chairs insisted on it.

"That's better. Now stop fidgeting. We wanna do some sunbathing."

"Hm." Sunbathing was boring. But at least Daryl wasn't required to lie on one of the silly chairs. He was allowed to kneel in the wonderful, white sand, in the shade, right next to Negan, where he could smell his sunscreen and the gel in his hair. "Where's Paul."

"Where's Paul?" Negan cocked an eyebrow. "Why, do I fucking bore you?"

Daryl looked almost appalled and shook his head. He wasn't bored by Negan, only by sunbathing for like a hundred hours. "No."

Negan smirked, blindly pointing to the backpack leaning against the lounge chair. "He's doing sightseeing with Rick. Send him a message."

"Okay." Daryl sniffed his nose, trying not to seem too eager, but he was really glad that he was allowed to use his silly smart phone. Maybe he could even play jewels while the tall angry man was sunbathing. He dug through all the contents of the bag, sunscreen, towels, more water, their clothing, a couple of bananas, and a book about ocean engineering.   

hello paul

The answer came after just a minute.

Jesus

Puppy!!! Rescue me!!! Everyone in this bus forgot to shower this morning and the windows don't open!!!

25.02.2017   10:15 AM

Daryl read it and tapped Negan's arm immediately, showing him the message.

Negan opened one eye, suppressing a sigh, because boy number one clearly didn't understand the rules of fucking sunbathing. He glanced at the display. "Tell him to sniff his man's crotch. That'll make him feel better."

Daryl looked embarrassed. He really didn't want to write that, and held the phone an inch closer to Negan. "You can." His offer sounded a little gruff, but Negan didn't seem to mind and took the phone to reply.

Sniff the fucking crotch next to you and be a good boy. Your man wants you to have a good time.

He sent it and handed the phone back, closing his eyes again. "Don't forget to drink."

Daryl nodded and unscrewed the bottle cap, his eyes darting to his phone as he drank, because it beeped. He put the bottle down, exhaling soundly.

Jesus

Uuuuuh smart Daddy

25.02.2017   10:18 AM

There was a picture of a tiny tongue behind Paul's statement and within not even ten seconds, the phone beeped again in Daryl's fingers. It was a picture of the Cowboy-boots-guy and Jesus, smiling into the camera. The word 'picswap' stood underneath.

Daryl flicked his head and tapped Negan's arm again, holding the phone up for him to see.

Negan opened his eyes, looked at it, sighed as he took it, and pulled Daryl close, holding him firmly by the chin. "Open." It was a small command in strict tone. "Tongue out." The order was followed instantly, and rewarded with a broad lick over a obediently displayed tongue. "Good boy." Negan held eye contact for a moment, loving the worship in blue eyes, and then handed the phone back. "You wanna send this to my other boy and then you kneel like I taught you, for fifteen minutes."

"Hm." Daryl blinked through tousled bangs, nodding once.

"Mhm. Say yes."

"Yes."

Negan arched his brows, "You may start." pinching Daryl's chin before he released it. He made himself comfortable, enjoying his sub's astonished face when he discovered the photo that was suddenly on his phone, showing hot tongue-action on a beach chair.  

Daryl stared at the magical picture for 87 seconds before he remembered that he was supposed to send it, and couldn't help but to feel a little proud that he was part of this awesome photo and Jesus would see it.  

He put the phone back into the backpack and knelt down in correct position, wearing not more than bathing shorts and a white t-shirt, right next to Negan's chair. He straightened his back and shoulders, spread his thighs and lowered his eyes, staring down at the pretty white sand.

After nine minutes he touched it with two fingers, poked it a bit after ten minutes, and dug his whole hand into after eleven. After fifteen minutes he had found all sorts of things already, just in the small area of fine sand right between his spread knees. A cigarette butt from Merle's favorite brand, a very tiny pebble stone with even tinier holes, a part of a small ruffled feather, and a green shard that had no sharp edges anymore from being so long in the sand. He dug his hand in again, a bit deeper this time and knew immediately that he found something even better than before. It was a coin, silver in the middle, with a golden ring on the outside and the number 1 on it. He brushed the fine sand off and tapped Negan's arm, holding it in front of his face. "'s for you."

Negan blinked his eyes open, finding a row of tiny pieces of garbage lined up neatly next to his head on the thick cushion of the chair, and a dirty coin held in front of his nose. So much for the promise of 'very clean private beaches'. "It's a Euro. You can't pay with it at home."

"Hm." Daryl rubbed his ear against his shoulder, taking his hand down.

"I have to travel to Europe next month. Go wash it. Then I'll buy you a french treat." Negan watched as the disappointment on his sub's face disappeared and got replaced by insecurity. He knew Daryl was dying to go near the water since they had arrived at the beach, but was too shy, because he would have to walk past a lot of other beach chairs, women basking in the sun in their tiny bikinis, children running around and playing. He needed a little kick in the ass. "Chop, chop, boy. I want my money clean."  

Daryl sniffed his nose, looking from Negan to the ocean. A young couple was just coming out of the water, holding hands and laughing, while a group of children ran right into the soft waves, squealing as they chased a yellow water ball. He really didn't want to go, because everyone was so pretty, with fancy swimwear, make-up, and perfect hair, and he knew they would stare at him like they always did, like he didn't belong. But Negan looked at him, obviously waiting for his order to be followed, so he got up, sniffed his nose again, and carried the European coin across the beach.

It was hard work, like walking in fresh fallen snow. With every step the warm sand shifted beneath his feet, squishing between his toes. It felt weird and very nice at the same time. It got cooler and more compact as he came closer to the water. Moist and cushiony. The water was shallow and crystal clear, like the water in a bathtub or the swimming pool on the huge cruise ship. Small waves rolled in with a soothing sound, white tipped, spreading themselves like lace over the beach.

The flurry of sand and salty water tickled, as it oozed over Daryl's bare feet. It wasn't really cold, but refreshing. He scrunched his toes, feeling the strange softness and saw nothing but blue when he gazed up. Blue everywhere, the shimmering water, the bright sky, wide, open and endless. The sight made almost dizzy, paired with the feeling of water running around his feet and ankles, pulling the sand out underneath him. And he almost forgot his task, until a group of young women ran past him into the waves, giggling. Their almost naked, perfect bodies and bouncing breasts made him angry. He threw them a death stare, gritting his teeth, sure they made fun of him, when they looked back over their shoulders, laughing in joy. He flicked his head defiantly and squatted down, holding the coin into the clear water to wash it, as he was supposed to.

Negan watched his sub, tense, insecure and hostile as always, not even in the slightest aware of the effect he had on others. Women tried to flirt, men admired his good looks openly. He turned heads, and was the cause for clandestine whispers. But wouldn't believe it, even if it was the headline in the newspaper. Negan watched him crouching in the shallow water, rubbing his coin, glaring up now and then at other people. Then he got distracted for a moment by something he found in the water, took it, got up and came back, wiping a strand of hair out of his face with wet, sandy fingers.

Half of the way he looked down at the tiny object he carried in his hand, didn't see a woman lying on a big pink towel, and accidentally kicked some sand at her with his wet feet as he passed by. Her head shot up instantly, shouting insulting words after the rude stranger who didn't even stop to apologize. She turned around and nudged her dozing boyfriend, telling him to go and do something.

Negan groaned and tiredly rubbed his face, getting off his deckchair. A wide majority of people on this planet were really fucking annoying. He didn't bother to put a shirt on and smiled, walking towards his sub. "Is it clean?"

Daryl held the shiny coin up, thinking Negan was really tall and very pretty, wearing nothing but dark red bathing trunks and a light tan on his bare skin. "Yes."

"Good job." Negan kept the foreign money and brushed a strand of hair behind Daryl's ear. "Go watch my bag and drink some more water, I'm back in a minute."

"Okay." Daryl held his head two inches higher now that his money was accepted and scuffed along through the dry sand, his feet looking like breaded pork chop. He knelt down next to the beach chair, drank all the rest of the salt-metal-water from the bottle, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and looked up to see where Negan was.

He stood in a bit of a distance with a very furious bikini-lady and a tall, muscular man. They talked, but Negan seemed to be the only one smiling. Then he shook his head and put a hand to the muscle-man's shoulder, keeping him from going anywhere. He said something else, stepped a bit closer into the stranger's space, smiled again with a pat of the man's broad chest, and turned around to walk off, leaving his new buddies behind, arguing and kind of frustrated.

Daryl didn't care, the corner of his mouth twitching up a bit, when Negan approached him with a smirk and wag of his eyebrows, kicking some dry sand between his spread legs, entirely on purpose.

"Are you a good beach puppy?" Negan brushed his fingertips over the top of Daryl's head, got his wallet out of the backpack and put the cleaned-up Euro in. "You wanna grab something to eat now, or do more sunbathing."

Daryl wrinkled his nose underneath his tousled bangs. He didn't want to do any of it, and after 8 seconds of hesitation glanced up and shook his head. "No."

"No? What do you wanna do?" Negan knew he would get a shrug and quiet 'Dunno' for an answer before it happened, and shook his head with a sigh when his assumption got confirmed. He pinched his nose and gestured towards the row of tiny garbage pieces, displayed on the thick cushion of the deckchair. "Go, pack your..." A new item completed the collection by now. A small pretty pebble stone, perfectly smooth and round. "...fucking flotsam there. We go on a hike."

----

Going on a hike with the tall angry man was the best thing since breakfast. Daryl carried everything, and followed big footsteps and strict hand signals, as they walked without shoes along the white beach, down by the water where small waves met the fine sand. He turned around every now and then, watching how their combined footprints got erased by the almost soundless, clear water, crawling up the shore.

After half a mile he got his phone out and took three photos. One of the endless blue sea, one of Negan's bare back because it was really pretty, and one of a footprint stamped firmly into wet sand by his rightful owner.

He looked at the slightly blurry end result on the small display, sniffed his nose, thinking his photos were really awesome, and then walked a little faster to secretly listen to the conversation Negan held with the Cowboy-boots-guy on the phone.

"Oh, we do sightseeing as well." Negan glanced back over his shoulder, knowing full well that his physique was admired. "At least one of us. Right puppy?" He held a hand behind his back, offering a little more intimacy.

"Yes." Daryl flicked his head, his feet making plashing sounds on the wet, squishy ground, when he jogged up the last three steps and took Negan's hand. Seven excited butterflies flew crisscross through his happy stomach, when firm fingers entwined with his, squeezing once.

"What's that fucking noise." Negan squinted at the strange music coming through the phone.

Rick's voice sounded a little tired. 'Paul is playing steel drums.' Maybe it wasn't the best idea to visit a Caribbean street fair, after the stop at St. Maarten's number one coffee roaster. A sub high on caffeine was never easy to handle.

Negan snorted. "Well Daddy, get your camera out. Sounds like a new gem for your home video collection."

'Shut up.'

Negan laughed, ending the call and squeezed Daryl's hand again. "Why are you fidgeting. You have to piss?"

Daryl felt embarrassed instantly, because it was true. But there was no toilet around and he didn't want to go back to the silly beach club, so he shook his head, adding a small, "Jus' a little." to not be a liar.

"Good boy." Negan rewarded his sub's honesty with a brief kiss on the top of his head and decided to change the subject, to take Daryl's mind off his full bladder until they would reach a more private area. "Have you been to the beach before?"

"No." Daryl glared at a person who stared disapprovingly in their direction, obviously not liking the fact that two men were openly holding hands at a public beach.

"You like it here?"

"Hm." Daryl shrugged. He didn't like the people and the beach club, but the rest was awesome. "The sea."

"Mhm. What else do you like here."

Answering questions really wasn't one of Daryl's favorite things to do. But he squeezed Negan's hand lightly and confessed a small, "You." anyway, because it was the truth.

Something fluffy wiggled its way through the left side of Negan's chest. He didn't approve of that, but rubbed the inside of Daryl's palm twice with his thumb. "Yes? What do you like about me."

Daryl sniffed his nose and raised his shoulder to rub his ear against. "Hands 'n voice." And everything else from his perfect toes up to his beautiful dark hair. He sniffed his nose again and avoided his eyes, feeling his cheeks flush.

Negan liked the answer. Most people chose other attributes under the top 3. "One more thing."

Daryl watched his feet moving in the wet sand. He was about to say that Negan smelled good, tasted so nice, and was really smart. But what he honestly liked the most was something else. He said it quietly and shrugged, trying to make no big deal out of it. "You don' hate me anymore."

At the first moment Negan felt offended, but then remembered the earliest encounters he had with Daryl. "Did I yell a lot when we met?" He chuckled, nudging Daryl's side with both of their entwined hands.  

A tiny smirk appeared on Daryl's face. "Hm." Negan had been very loud and very angry at that time. "Yes."

"I have." Negan agreed, his tone more serious. "But I never disliked you and sure as shit did I never fucking hate you."

Two young locals, not much older than 20, walked by. One of them made a snidely comment, while the other spat derisively into the sand, almost hitting Daryl's bare foot.  

"HEY!" Negan stopped, putting a protective arm around his sub's shoulders. He waited until he had full homophobic attention, circled safe fingers around the back of Daryl's collared neck, and pulled him in for a kiss. Not a peck on the lips, and no messy tongue fight either, but true affection, slow and deep, with small moans and a gentle hand sliding down on firm ass cheeks. He heard insults and swearing in foreign accent, but just intensified his efforts and blindly stretched an arm out, giving today's uncouth youth a one-finger salute.  

The young guys were long gone when he slowly broke the kiss, enjoying the dazed expression in blue eyes and prettily blushed cheeks. The tip of his tongue poked out, as he cupped the side of Daryl's face. "I yelled so much in the beginning because you're such a hot little fucker. Pissed me off how you had me wrapped around your little finger with that sweet fucking puppy face of yours." He chuckled, cocked his eyebrows and walked off, dragging his boy along, in search for one of the many hidden private nooks of the island.

----

Grand Case Bay was a quiet beach, where the beautiful arch of white sand got interrupted by a majestic formation of big rocks, stretched out into the water as if someone had poured a bucket full of gigantic pebble stones from the dry land into the sea. They were overgrown by rich, green plants, taking the dramatic look off the hard, dark barrier.

There was no one around, the foamy crests of the small crashing waves were the only sound. Daryl loved it. For more than thirty minutes he had been busy to explore the pristine nature in complete privacy. He had taken 36 photos. From the huge rocks, the exotic plants, the white foamy water crawling back and forth over the beach, brownish seaweed, Negan resting on a thick towel, big, beautiful smooth rocks glistening in the sun, in the shallow water, and a crab with funny eye-stalks and raised pincers, scuttling side-ways across the fine sand.

He also went into the ocean. Not just with his feet, but all the way up to his thighs, because there were real fishes swimming in the crystal clear water. Pretty ones, with stripes and big eyes. They weren't shy at all, one even bumped against Daryl's leg. He was sure he could have caught one with bare hands and maybe he could have cooked it for Negan, but then he didn't do it, because maybe fishes from the Caribbean sea carried just as many diseases as the rats in Atlanta.

The clear water pooled around his knees as he slowly waded back out, admiring the rocks and pebbles sparkling underneath the surface. They were all perfectly round, with no sharp edges or jagged curves. He picked one up, holding it in his palm, cold and wet, glistening beautifully with the light of the sun. He was tempted to keep it, but he knew that once it would dry, it would just look like a normal, dull pebble.

Negan looked up from his phone every few seconds, having a watchful eye on the young man who didn't know how to swim, but was courageous enough to explore the sea on his own. He watched him wade around the water, with bare chest and a pair of soaked bathing trunks that hugged his firm ass very nicely. Sometimes he would stop and stay perfectly still to watch fishes, once he flinched when a slightly bigger wave hit his chest and splattered some salty water into his face, and now he picked up stones, admired them for a moment, then swung his arm back, flicked his wrist, and watched the small pebble skip across the surface of the sea.

Negan sat up, then whistled and waved his fingers. "Come here for a moment!"

Daryl looked back over his shoulder and immediately turned around to follow the order, picking up a piece of driftwood on the way. He knelt down on the towel between Negan's bent legs, pressing his knees tightly together, then squeezed his crotch in addition, when the dripping wet swimwear and a cool breeze reminded him that his bladder was really full.

"You found a stick, puppy?" Negan took the dried piece of wood out of Daryl's hands. It felt soft, bleached by salt and sun.

"'s for Tiger." Daryl sniffed his nose. He could throw it to play fetch.

A faint smirk played around Negan's lips, the tip of his tongue poking out in the corner, as he put the stick down, squinting his right eye. He took a bottle of water out of the backpack, drank a sip himself, and then held it to Daryl's lips. "Drink."

Daryl really didn't want to, but did it anyway, trying to make just very small sips.

"You don't like my water?"

Daryl wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. "I like it." He just didn't want to drink it.  

It didn't sound very convincing and Negan poured a bit into the cup of his hand, holding it out. "Drink."

Daryl moved back an inch, discomfiture making his chest hot. He wasn't sure why he was supposed to drink like that and wanted to ask for a cup. But Negan stared at him, obviously waiting for the order to be followed, so he leaned in and hesitantly drank the small puddle gathering in the inside of a broad hand. It was difficult, and more licking and slurping than actual drinking, but Negan seemed to like it anyway, because he praised the prompt execution of his order with rewarding words in deep, steady tone.

"Good boy. Does that taste so much better?"

It really did and Daryl looked up, two water drops running down his chin. "Hm." He nodded, feeling a bit embarrassed and very proud at the same time.

"Mhm." Negan rolled his tongue behind his teeth. "Naughty puppy doesn't want to give answers, right."

Daryl held brave eye contact and after a moment exhaled soundly through his nose.

Negan chuckled deep in his throat and poured more water into his palm, lowering his hand a little so Daryl would have to go further down.

Daryl went on all fours, bent his elbows as he lowered down, his hair falling into his face, when he licked the water off Negan's hand, huffing warm puffs of breath against wet fingers. Excited tingles swirled through his belly and down his spine because the back of his head was stroked and kissed. It encouraged him so much, that he raised his head as soon as he was finished and licked Negan's bare nipple. Twice. Like the best puppy in the world.  

"Oh yes? Are you saying such a nice thank you?"

The soft, dark voice rumbling through a broad chest, let Daryl's heart skip a beat. He leaned his forehead against warm skin and coarse chest hair, closing his eyes for a moment. "Yes Sir."

It was a very quiet answer, but Negan liked it a lot. "Such a sweet fucking puppy." He took the piece of driftwood and held it up. "You wanna open your mouth for me?"

Hot sparks popped in Daryl's stomach as he sat back on his heels. "Hm." He nodded once, flicking his head shyly to the side to get some hair out of his eyes, smacked his lips once and then parted them obediently.

"Good job." Negan clamped the stick between his sub's teeth, "You wanna hold this while I'm swimming." and got up to walk towards the water, patting the back of his thigh. "Daryl. Here."  

Daryl nudged his tongue against the smooth wooden object, scrambled to his feet and followed as he was supposed to, hoping that he wouldn't have to go into the deep water to swim.

Negan stopped where the sand was soaked and more solid, snapped his fingers and pointed two down. "Here." He watched as Daryl crouched down, exhaling soundly around his puppy-stick, and lightly slapped his cheek. "That's not how you wanna kneel for me."

Daryl peered up from where he was sitting in the wet sand and moved into the required position, with straight back and spread knees.

"That's better. You wanna wait here and watch me. Raise your hand if you have to piss."  

Daryl nodded and shifted on his heels because now that he thought about it, he really had to pee pretty badly. But he didn't want to go back to the toilet, so he kept his hand down and watched a very tall, very beautiful man walk into the ocean, deeper and deeper, almost up to the hip, and then dive smoothly into the next wave, with his arms above his head, vanishing in the wide blue water. And for the next 32 seconds he seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth.

Daryl craned his neck, anxiousness spreading through his tense body, until he finally saw someone breach the blue surface of the pretty ocean, very far away. He wasn't sure how Negan had gotten all the way out there, but he didn't like it one bit. His eyes were fixed on dark hair and a strong body cleaving through the water, terrified to lose visual contact.

Negan moved with robotic precision but organic fluidity, powerful rhythmic strokes, nailed to perfection. Eighty laps would never fail to get all tension out of his system and have him completely stress free. Of course he wasn't aiming for eighty today, knowing his sub was all by himself on the beach. But once back in Atlanta, he should really start to include regular exercise into his daily schedule again.

He made one last flip, then changed directions and swam towards shallower water again, seeing even from a distance that Daryl was fidgeting nervously, having a hand between his thighs. Fucking puppy.

He dove under the surface, made three long strokes and was able to put his feet on the ground when he emerged again. He walked back to the beach, stopped in ankle high water, pinched his nose and smoothed his hair back. Then clicked his tongue twice, suppressing a smirk when Daryl cocked his head like an alert dog. "Boy. Come here."

Daryl exhaled around his stick, whipping his hair to the side. He had to pee very badly and wasn't sure why he was supposed to go into the water, but Negan stood there, dripping wet, tall and mighty, like a real stunning merman, and obviously waited for the order to be followed, so he rose to his feet and waddled through the shallow water.

"Mhm." Negan crooked his fingers, expecting his sub to stand close. "You wanna give me your pants."

Daryl's immediate reluctance was clearly visible in his eyes. He wrapped an arm across his chest, wanting to shake his head, but then didn't, because Negan raised his eyebrows, waiting.

"Well?"

Daryl nudged his tongue against the driftwood and slowly took his damp swimwear off, a bit awkwardly, feeling embarrassed as he handed it over.

"Good job." Negan took it, snapped his fingers and pointed two down. "Kneel." His sub followed the order hesitantly, with his eyes shyly up and a hand between his legs, covering his bare crotch. Negan smiled and squatted down as well. "Are you looking so pretty all naked in the ocean?"

Daryl huffed a breath around the stick, cold water washing around his knees and naked butt. He really had to pee.

Negan chuckled, holding a hand out. "Drop it." The piece of driftwood fell into his open palm instantly. "Thank you. Spread your legs please. Arms behind your back."

Daryl bit his lip, then looked around but saw nobody.

"No." Negan snapped his fingers harshly. "You wanna focus on me." He shoved Daryl's legs apart. "Right?"

Daryl nodded, a shudder running through his body when a cool gush of water swashed against his bare genitals.

Negan leaned in close, speaking next to a pale ear. "One. And I'll find a fucking quiet corner on this island for your time out if you keep denying me answers."

Daryl listened and nodded again, adding a small, "Yes." He really didn't want a time out on this island.

"Mhm." Negan nodded as well. "You wanna be good for me now?"

"Yes."

"Say it like a good boy."

Daryl sniffed his nose, wanting to touch Negan' face, but put his arms obediently behind his back instead. "'m good for you."

"Yes, you are. You wanna be a sweet puppy and piss for me." Negan cooed his request in soft tone, tipping his head to the side as he watched the misery on Daryl's face. "Right here in the water, so I can see it."

Daryl hunched his shoulders, then straightened them, looking nervously in Negan's eyes. "Can I in the bathroom." His abdominal muscles contracted when the cold water washed around his balls and penis, making the need for relief unbearable.

"May you piss like a good boy, sitting on the toilet?" Negan reached out into the shallow water, to fondle his sub's cock. "When we're back on the ship, right? Now you have to piss in the ocean because you can't hold it any longer."

Daryl wanted to contradict but knew it was the truth. He tensed up the muscles in his thighs, breathing heavily when a new wave rolled more cool water around his body, splashing against his exposed crotch and belly.

"Look down." Negan said it quietly, running feather light fingertips along the crook of Daryl's neck. "You wanna watch." He repeated his finger tickling twice, then leaned in to kiss along the same path, with gentle lips and wet tongue, leaving  blotches of warm saliva to be cooled down by the ocean breeze. "Are you being so good for me?" He kissed his way up underneath long strands of hair, caressing the soft spot behind a pale ear, blowing damp air against it. "Pissing on command when I tell you?"

Daryl shuddered and whimpered, heavy goosebumps spreading all over his skin, as he looked down and watched, yellow fluid flowing out of his dick, forming cloudy patterns in the crystal clear ocean water. "Yes." He sounded out of breath and almost astonished, that he really did it and was so good without much help this time.

"Mhm. Look at that." Negan kept close contact, touching their foreheads together and reached down to hold his sub's dick loosely in his hand, squeezing the last drops out. "Fucking good boy is what you are. Obeying so nicely, right?"

Daryl nodded, the bliss of immense relief and pride swirling through his veins. He was so good, he wanted spit and raisins, and he raised his head a little to present his tongue between submissively parted lips, waiting for his reward.

Negan growled, something hot gleaming in his dark eyes, as he grasped the man's chin and spat with force on a willing tongue, enjoying the sight for a moment before he allowed it to be swallowed down. "Naughty puppy. Are you making me fucking hard in the middle of the  Atlantic ocean?" He leaned in, keeping his eyes open, and licked broad and wet over a pale pink mouth, demanding admission.

Daryl melted into the wet, sandy ground and pool of cool water, a strong hand holding him by the back of his neck, and he huffed a grunt into the deep, claiming kiss he received.

...thinking that they weren't in the Atlantic ocean, but the Caribbean sea. He didn't say it, though, because contradicting was rude and it was just silly water in the end.

With his pee in it.

----

Books about naval architecture were pretty to look at, because they had such awesome pictures, but they were really hard to read. At least for Daryl Dixon, because he wasn't a very good reader. Negan on the other hand, did not only look stunning, standing in the sea or sunbathing on a towel, he was also the smartest man alive, and could read all the difficult words fluently, by just taking a short glance at them.

Daryl was absolutely fascinated by the tempo Negan flipped through the pages, reading the text like he would know the book for ages. He sat stark naked between Negan's legs, leaning against his bare chest, and listened attentively, wishing the silly ocean waves would be quiet already because he wanted to hear all of the wonderful deep voice and not miss a thing.

"Modern large ships are perhaps the most complex of modern engineering projects and represent the largest man-made mobile structures." Negan rested his chin on the top of Daryl's head as he read. The book was pretty boring for his taste, but it was cute how much Daryl enjoyed it, so he fought through the dull text, pretending it was the most exciting thing he had ever read. "Ships still carry over 90% of world trade and still carry large numbers of people on pleasure cruises and ferries in all areas of the globe."

Daryl felt personally involved, hearing the word 'cruises'. That was them. He sniffed his nose, trying to find the word in the sea of black letters, and reached for his bare cock, fondling it unwittingly.

"Ships, and other marine structures, are needed to exploit the riches of the... fucking deep." Negan gritted his teeth for the last word, swatting the side of Daryl's bare thigh. "Hands off your fucking dick, I said." He took the man's chin in a harsh grip and forced his head back to create uncomfortable eye contact. "Apologize."

Daryl smacked his lips. "'m sorry."

"What the fuck for."

Blue eyes flickered nervously. "Touchin'."

"What did you touch."

Daryl reached blindly down to point at his penis and flinched because his sore thigh was swatted once more immediately. The sharp sting spreading over his skin let his heart speed up and the naughty muscle in his bum react inappropriately. "My dick."

"Who is allowed to fucking touch it."

Daryl smacked his lips again. It was difficult to swallow with his head stretched so far back. "You."

"Look at my fucking puppy being so clever." Negan kept the serious stare for a moment longer, then released the man's chin and rubbed the heat out of the sore spot he had created, turning the page. "Their design, build, maintenance and operation, in all of which naval architects play a major role or exert considerable influence, are fascinating activities. Although one of the oldest fo-" He stopped mid-word when Daryl craned his head back again, all on his own, and reached up to touch the scruff on his cheek with clumsy fingers.

"'s Paul bad when you hit him." Daryl's shy, rather gruff sounding words, were accompanied by a slight blush crawling over pale cheeks.

Negan put the book down, surprised by the question. "Is it punishment when Paul gets a spanking?" He spread his bent legs a bit wider, making Daryl turn around partly so he could look at him more comfortably. "Very rarely. It's more part of our play."

Daryl avoided his eyes, a short pang of jealousy rushing through his chest. He didn't like that Paul and Negan had a secret private game with hot prickling skin and twitching bums.   

Negan snapped his fingers, making his sub look up again. "I cane him, I whip him, I fucking flog him, because he likes it. It's a special type of pain that feels good for some people. But I didn't do it in the beginning, right? Impact play requires a lot of fucking trust."

"Hm." Daryl sniffed his nose, pulling the fingers of his right hand. He wanted to confess that he was maybe one of the people who liked special pain, and that he could be part of the play too, but the words wouldn't come out. "Okay." He leaned back again, against the safe broad chest he liked so much, and reached for the book, signaling that his question was answered and he wanted to read some more. But no matter how hard he tried to concentrate on the wonderful deep words vibrating through Negan's throat, about oil tankers and warships, his mind just wouldn't stop drifting back to the red hand print, he knew was visible on the side of his thigh. He didn't even have to look at it to check, he could feel that it was there.

"...because of the variety of floating structures and the many compromises necessary to achieve the most effective design, it is demanding." Negan nuzzled the side of Daryl's face, knowing exactly that his sub was maybe physically at a beach on St. Maarten, but with his mind very far away in a well equipped playroom in Atlanta. So he wasn't surprised to hear a very quiet, very shy, but also defiant sounding statement, mumbled between 'giant supertankers' and 'pilot boats'.

"I trust you."

He didn't chuckle and didn't smirk, but kissed a very warm cheek, that he didn't have to look at to know that it was blushed in a nice shade of red. "I know. And I see what you like. But the owner sets the pace. Right? Not the naughty puppy."

----

Around noon the sky clouded over and the wind freshened up, but the young man sitting at one of the best tables at the Sunset Cafe, didn't pay much attention to the weather. He wore dry clothes, half a liter of juice was in his stomach, and on his plate were only the meek remains of the best lobster with lemon butter sauce the restaurant had to offer.

Negan chuckled, swiping a piece of bread through the juices on his plate. "Why did you not just go in and ask?" He enjoyed Daryl's talkative state to the fullest and didn't even feel in the mood to correct the man's casual posture. Seeing him speak so freely was rare. Totally relaxed features, elbow on the table, his cheekbone resting against the backs of his fingers, a constant little smile around his lips. It put stars in blue eyes and a dazzle on a pale face, transforming him entirely into someone else. The man he was at the core, the man he was supposed to be, the man who was hiding 99% of the time due to insecurities and severe feelings of inferiority. But that was okay, because at least he was not gone completely. He was still there, and Negan knew how to lure him out to play.

"I couldn't. The kick stand was broken." Daryl's voice adopted a happy, higher pitch, charmingly creaking a bit at the end. "'n Merle was pissed 'n wanted to go before the cops arrive." He snorted at the memory. "'was a shit day."

"Hm, I don't know." Negan shrugged, the corner of his mouth tipping up into a half smirk. "Sounds like a fucking great day to me."

Daryl sniffed his nose and looked up, meeting dark eyes. Something warm washed through his chest, making him aware of the shiny band of steel around his neck. The most precious object in the world. "Hm." He smirked back, shyly nudging Negan's foot underneath the table, and then felt his heart clench in joy and excitement, when the gesture was returned after 7 seconds.

"Fucking puppy."   

Chapter Text

Daryl almost touched the spotless pane of the sliding balcony door with the tip of his nose as he stared outside, horrified.

The stormy clouds that had gathered since the early afternoon, now blocked the sun, swallowing the last rays of light. Rain poured furiously, splattering on the luxurious mahogany tiling of the balcony. Thunder crackled through the air, a few sea gulls struggling against the gale.

He had wanted to wait on the pier for Paul to come back from his sightseeing trip, but the weather got too bad, and Negan insisted that they went back on the ship to wait there. Now he was really nervous that the ship would start without Jesus on board.  

"Boy. Where's my dark shirt." Negan had taken a quick shower and rummaged through the closet, not able to figure out the system of Daryl's order.

Daryl flicked his head with a last glance at the thunderstorm raging outside, and went to get a pretty black Hugo Boss button down shirt out of the cupboard next to the minibar. It was a little creased and wrinkled, but he held it out anyway. It smelled like the fresh laundry at the factory.

"Hh." Negan took it and after a short examination threw it on the pile of clothes that needed to be ironed. The cabin steward would find it in the morning. "You wanna go, get me a drink."

Daryl went to the small bar, selected a glass that was especially clean, and filled it with Scotch, up to the brim, then carried it carefully through the room, wiping his wet hand into his pants when he spilled some drops. "Hm." He nudged Negan's bare arm, half with the glass, half with his little finger, but he was turned down.

"How do you wanna serve correctly."

Several possibilities shot through Daryl's brain. Kneeling down, saying his name, or maybe wearing a towel draped over his forearm like Orhan did. In the end he just knitted his eyebrows in a defensive manner, and his mumbled answer sounded gruffer than intended. "Dunno."

Negan tipped his sub's chin up with the side of his thumb, making sure he had full attention. "Here's your drink, Sir." He nodded once, arching his brows. "Right?"

"Hm." Daryl pulled his shoulders up, having difficulties to keep eye contact. "Okay." Negan looked really pretty without a shirt.

"You also wanna remember that Scotch is not water." Negan curled two fingers elegantly around the bottom of the overflowing glass. "You fill it to the level of one finger in the afternoon, two fingers in the evening." He took his hand off, gesturing to the bar. "Try again."

Daryl blinked through his long bangs, sniffed his nose and turned around, balancing the full glass back. He wasn't sure what to do with it, considered for a second that he should maybe drink it himself, but then just put it aside and dribbled a little bit of Scotch into a fresh glass. Then a bit more, measured with the width of his index finger, and looked back over his shoulder, but got no confirmation. He hoped it was right and carried the glass back to Negan, huffing a nervous little breath. "'s your drink." He sniffed his nose, lifting the glass an inch higher and added a very quiet, "Sir." He was relieved when Negan accepted it and took a sip.

"Much better."

Daryl watched, feeling a little proud. After the third sip, he gestured with two fingers. "It's afternoon." That's why he had just poured one finger in.

A slight smile curved Negan's lips. "It is afternoon. You did well." He took the glass into his other hand, stepping very close, as he gave his sub a slow once-over. "Eyes down. Hands behind your back."

The dark, silky voice made Daryl's toes tingle. He lowered his head and put his arms behind his back, heaving a soundless breath. Negan stood so close, he could smell his skin, the liquor, and feel the warmth of his body.

"Good boy." Negan took another sip, while he brushed a strand of hair behind Daryl's ear. "You may stand here like this for me. Looking fucking pretty while I enjoy my drink."

Hot little sprinkles flurried through Daryl's chest, not sure if he should feel ashamed or excited, but the butterflies in his stomach liked Negan's idea very much. They made him say an almost inaudible 'Thank you', that wasn't supposed to make it out of his mind, but then he was glad that Negan heard it anyway.

"Nice manners." Negan praised with low, rewarding words, his voice a deep rumble. "Being so good for me, isn't that right, boy."

Daryl nodded very faintly, keeping his eyes down submissively. "Yes."

"Mhm." Negan ran the cool bottom edge of his glass down Daryl's arm. "Say it again."

"Yes, Sir."

It was a shy, quiet answer that added a rasp to Negan's voice. "Fucking sweetheart." He admired the sight a moment longer up close, before he went to sit on the couch, leaning into the backrest in the most relaxed way, resting the amber-hued rocks glass on his knee. The beautiful display of subservience to look at, and the rich, mellow flavor of his favorite single malt on his tongue. There was hardly a better way to start into the evening.

----

Johnny Rockets on the boardwalk of Deck 6 was a typical 50's diner, with red booths, formica counters, a jukebox, huge burgers, greasy fries and old-fashioned malted milk shakes.

Negan wasn't thrilled as he read through the 100000 calories menu, but he had to admit the restaurant was definitely 'boy-friendly'.  

Jesus sipped his gigantic shake, bobbed his head in tune to the Paul Anka classic playing, and let his eyes travel over his Daddy's appearance. White t-shirt peeking out underneath a casually open, well worn leather jacket, slicked back, black hair... there was no denial. In this environment he looked like straight out of a 50's movie.

"You want a fucking photo?" Negan didn't have to look up to know that he was stared at.

"Yes, please." Jesus purred like a fangirl at an Elvis meet 'n greet, and then chuckled and ducked his head when a salty french fry hit his left ear. "I just never realized how Rockabilly you look, Sir." He grinned, wrapping his lips around his pink straw again to slurp himself closer to an inevitable brain freeze.

"He's right." Rick stated, his hair still damp from the run through the rain, to catch the ship before it left port. "Like Fonzie." He dipped his onion ring into the ketchup and then spilled half of it on his fresh pair of jeans, because a group of young men stormed the table, having recognized the current Mister Mid Atlantic Leather. "Hey! Is that necessary? He's eating!"

"Rick." Negan signed a napkin. "Be nice."

"I am." Rick glared at a guy snapping a picture without asking. "They should have some respect."

Negan rolled his tongue behind closed lips, suppressing a smirk. He posed halfheartedly for a selfie, accepted a chocolate milkshake he was gifted, and said a polite good bye, sliding the cup across the table to his employee. "Maybe you should team up with Eugene."

Daryl sniffed his nose, glancing at the Cowboy-boots-man through his long bangs. It was good that he was allowed to have the fanboy-milkshake. He was kind of okay tonight.

"Puppy." Negan snapped his fingers next to Daryl's head. "Be good and eat. We have an appointment in twenty minutes."

----

The Vitality Spa and Fitness Center at the other end of Deck 6, featured the best equipment. Saunas, an indoor pool, all the latest classes, like yoga and pilates, plus, a beauty salon and spa treatments, including massages, manicures and fancy seaweed body wraps.

Daryl hated it.

It was too warm and humid, it smelled like strange flowery stuff, and the person attempting to trim his very outgrown hair, had pink plastic fingernails and asked questions, non-stop. He wrinkled his nose and ducked his head to the side, when she tried to cut the hair above his ear.

"Cynthia." A very tall, very handsome man put a hand on the young woman's shoulder, glancing at her name tag. "Be a lamb and bring us a glass of water."

She smiled and blushed a little, experiencing strange activities in her lower regions, being spoken to and touched by the handsome customer. "Of course, Sir." She put her comb and scissors down, traipsing off to do as she was told and send a text message to her best friend Monica, for a little squeal and sincere exchange of thoughts, of whether she should dare and invite Mr. Sexy to a cocktail with 'afterparty', once her shift was over.

"Ksst." Negan snapped his fingers, expecting his sub's attention. "You wanna stop fidgeting. Hold still and let the lady do her fucking job."

Daryl glowered at the mirror. He wanted to take that stupid gown off and leave. But Negan stared back at his reflection, obviously expecting the order to be followed, so he nodded once, mumbling a small, "Okay."

"I will be over there for my massage." Negan pointed to the spa area. "You tell Cynthia thank you and come show me your pretty hair cut when you are done. Right?"

"Hm." Daryl sniffed his nose and didn't have to flick his head because gentle fingers brushed the annoying strand behind his ear.

"What do you wanna say."

"Thank you." It was a spontaneous answer in rough voice and made Negan chuckle and bent down to speak right next to a warm cheek.

"You want to say, 'Yes Sir, that's exactly what I wanna do for you'."

Daryl listened to the low, dark voice, while watching himself and Negan in the mirror, and he had to admit that it was true. It really was exactly what he wanted to say. "Hm." So he brushed his cheek shyly against a perfectly trimmed beard and agreed. "Right."

He earned a smirk and brief peck on his temple for conceptualizing the matter, and then watched in the mirror as Negan walked off towards the massage tables.

----

Cynthia's job was to bring the outgrown strands of her young customer back into shape, without taking off more than an inch in length. And she was really proud of the end result. Mister Dixon looked spiffy.

Unfortunately he couldn't have cared less.

He wrinkled his nose in disgust when she tried to finish her masterpiece off with some sweet smelling hair wax, threw the pretty hairdressing gown off like it was made of spiderwebs, grumbled a small 'Thanks' because he was supposed to, and then went across the whole room to find his rightful owner. Past a Yoga class behind a huge window, the juice bar, and a man on a chair who got strange things done to his toenails.

"Are you done, boy?" Negan refused to open his eyes. The ten magical fingers gradually working the tension out between his shoulder blades definitely deserved an award.

Daryl wrapped an arm across his chest, glaring at the person rubbing the most beautiful back in the universe. He really didn't know why the tall angry man was wearing only a towel and then even groaned in pleasure when the masseur with the 'Hershey' name tag hit a magic spot right next to his spine.

"Boy." Negan raised his voice a little but kept his eyes shut.

Daryl sniffed his nose, aghast, as Hershey worked his way down towards the towel in circular motions.

"Boy!"

The masseur encouraged Negan to relax, using his most soothing voice. It made Daryl's nostrils flare, rage pumping through his veins as a serious plan formed in his angry mind to beat that fucker up and watch him die a painful death. Then he flinched startled, when a hand shot out, grabbing his wrist like a boa constrictor.     

"Fucking time out. Go face the wall. Ten minutes."

A hot flash spread like glowing embers over Daryl's skin, up to his face and ears, making him feel guilty, embarrassed and angry, all at the same time. He looked around, aware of all the people in the room, and he wanted to shake his head and say that he didn't want to have a time out here.

"What." But when Negan opened his eyes, it was clear that he wasn't offering the opportunity for negotiation. "Are we in public? I don't fucking care, boy. The rules are valid everywhere." He let go of the man's wrist and waved two fingers towards the wall closest to him. "Go. I'll tell you when ten minutes are over."

Daryl had never hesitated so long to follow one of Negan's orders. He felt like the masseur should be the one being punished. It was his fault that he forgot to answer and he had no right to touch an almost naked Negan. But Hershey wasn't sent to face the wall. He was. And Negan had shut his eyes again, obviously expecting to be obeyed. So he went seven steps to the next wall, as close to the massage table as possible, and stood almost with his nose to the cream colored paint.

The first two minutes the shame was overwhelming. Every voice in the room, the happy laughter of a woman, a distant 'looks horrible' in male voice, the words spoken in a language he didn't understand, it was all directed at him, he was sure of that. Sizzling hot ants tickled over his skin, making his stomach clench and breathing difficult.

The feeling mixed up with burning hate in minute three. Hate at this silly person who messed up his perfect 4-crosses-reward day. He wanted to punch and strangle him. For making him lose focus and making him forget to answer. For making him jealous and earning him a time-out. The first one since the new yellow post-it stuck to the fridge door. To remind him to speak when he was spoken to.

In minute 5, heavy, undeniable guilt crawled through Daryl's body.  

In minute eight the stupid masseur wasn't important anymore. Daryl couldn't have cared less about him. He had no signed photo underneath his pillow and wasn't allowed to serve Scotch, or pee into the toilet like a good boy. His job was to work on the huge shopping-center-ship. Not to focus on Negan.  

After nine minutes and 57 seconds, a deep steady voice told Daryl to turn around, and he complied instantly. He didn't look anywhere and didn't care about anything, but the safe, broad chest clad into a white waffle weave robe. He didn't dare to give a hug, but he buried his nose into the warm skin and dark hair peeking out where the soft fabric overlapped. "'m sorry."

"What are you sorry for, boy."

The voice rumbling through Negan's chest wasn't angry or resentful, just comforting with a stern undertone. It made Daryl melt into the plush Egyptian cotton. "Didn't answer."

"Why not."

Daryl thought for a moment, then exhaled into the white robe, soaking it with warm breath. "He pleasured you."

Negan had to lower his head a little to understand what Daryl was mumbling. "He pleasured me?"

"Hm." Daryl nodded once, glad that he was able to hide his face. "Yes." The silly masseur had made Negan groan.  

"He gets paid to massage people. He does it all day long." Negan took his sub's chin, tilting it up for eye contact. "It felt good, but he did not fucking pleasure me." He could see that Daryl wasn't convinced, but that was okay. It wasn't the point. And he raised his voice slightly to make that clear. "YOU on the other hand, are supposed to fucking please me twenty four fucking seven! You want to focus on me and be on your best behavior! Right?"

Daryl sniffed his nose as he stared up into dark eyes and a very serious face. "Right."

"Right." Negan tightened his grip a little. "Fucking give me a kiss, jealous puppy." He adored how Daryl cast his eyes down immediately and huffed a small breath through parted lips. It made him too impatient to wait for his order to be followed, so he leaned in to get what he wanted. His tongue touched a pale pink mouth before his lips followed, and Daryl moaned quietly because the feeling of a firm mouth on his, claiming it with assertive determination, went straight to a specific spot in his lower abdomen, sending tingles in all directions.

Daryl still had his eyes closed when Negan pulled back, holding his head in both hands, stroking the soft spots behind pale ears with his thumbs. "I like your hair. Looks fucking hot."

Dark blond eyelashes fluttered open. "Hm." Daryl hadn't looked into the mirror, but it felt as ugly as always. "Yours." It was true. Negan's hair looked awesome, just like the rest of him.

Negan rolled his tongue behind closed lips, before the tip poked out in the corner of his mouth, accentuating a cheeky smirk. "I know. Makes us a hot couple." He loved the blush spreading immediately over pale cheeks, and chuckled. "Go find Paul in the locker room. Tell him he had enough sightseeing for today."

----

An experienced Dom from Oslo, with his slave and boy, had approached Negan at the poolside, to exchange expertise and have a decent conversation for a change, since almost every guy on this cruise was busy drinking and partying most of the time.

As Negan listened to a story about a bad dungeon experience, a brief smile flashed over his face. Daryl sat at the edge of the pool, his legs dangling into the water, laughing happily at Jesus who tried to dive after a penny. As soon as he had it, he brought it back to Daryl, who threw it in again for a new challenge.

"Yours?" Asmund noticed where Negan was looking. He had to admit both of the man's boys were exceptionally gorgeous. But then again, that was to be expected for someone like Negan.

"They are." Negan sipped his sugar free lemonade, and froze for a second, alarmed when Daryl leaned forward, held on to Paul's shoulders and courageously slipped off the edge into the water. Once he was in and noticed his feet didn't reach the ground, he looked a bit nervous, but Paul held him up without difficulties, staying very close to the pool wall. "Excuse me." Negan got up from his lounge chair, put his glass down, and took his robe off.

"Yes, sure." Asmund smiled, sipping his drink. Negan was really a handsome individual. Too bad he wasn't a switch.

"Hey. What the fuck are you doing." Negan sat down in Daryl's abandoned place at the side of the pool, trying not to sound too stern.

"Penny diving, Sir." Jesus grinned brightly, even as it got more difficult to keep his head above water, with two strong arms wrapped around his neck in slight panic.

"Mhm." Negan waved two fingers and spread his legs. "Come here." He held an arm out for Daryl, pulled him close between his thighs, and wiped some wet hair out of his sub's face, smiling down at him. "Are you taking swimming lessons?"

Daryl blinked the water out of his eyes, coughing a little as he clawed ten fingers into Negan's thigh. Diving was a lot harder than it looked and he wanted to go back out again. But he couldn't say that because Jesus and Negan would think he was a total pansy. So he just shook his head.  

Negan let the unsatisfactory answer slip. "Paul." He crooked his fingers once more, expecting boy number two to stop his dolphin imitations. "Here."

"Yes Sir?" Jesus spit a mouth full of water out, swimming to the side, next to Negan's leg, and kissed his knee.

"Go take a shower. Rick wants to take you to the Country party. I'll scene with Daryl tonight."

"Uuuh, scening. Don't forget to take photos for me." Paul wagged his eyebrows, leaning over to kiss Daryl's wet face. Then chuckled when Negan slapped his head. "Why do I have to shower, though? I was just swimming."

"You were not swimming, you were marinating in piss and band-aids. Go take a fucking shower."

Jesus wrinkled his nose, planted a kiss to the top of Daryl's head and lifted himself gracefully out of the pool. "Have fun, Sir." He bent down, nuzzling Negan's cheek. "I'll tell you good night, later."

"Do that." Negan reached up to cup the back of Paul's head, holding him in place for a brief kiss. "Be good, bugger."

"Always." Paul purred against Daddy's lips, and jogged off, winking at a cute guy who gave him googly eyes.

Daryl sniffed his nose, looking after him, then glanced up at Negan. "Do we play?"

"Do we play?" Negan repeated the question a tone louder, giving Daryl his full attention. "Yes, I will scene with you tonight. But first you wanna show me how you hold your breath under water. Right?"

"No." Daryl knitted his eyebrows instantly, scowling, as he tightened his grip around the safe thigh he was holding on to. He surely wouldn't do anything under water.

"Of course you do." Negan assured, and didn't comment on it, when Daryl lifted himself farther out of the water between his spread thighs. He wrapped long legs around his sub's body, stroking wet hair out of his face. "I know you can hold your breath." He arched his brows with a smirk. "You do it every time you swallow my dick like a fucking champ."  

The grumpy expression on Daryl's face was replaced by slight interest, his eyes darting automatically to the impressively filled black Speedo, right in front of his nose, before he hid his face against Negan's flat belly. "I can do it now."

"No. You will do it in the morning, to wake me up like a good boy." Negan ran his fingers along the solid steel band at the back of Daryl's neck. "Now you wanna show me how you hold your breath under water." He waited patiently for Daryl to get used to the idea, didn't say anything when a nervous tongue darted out to lick the coarse hair on his belly, and then didn't correct his sub's tactic when he finally took a halfhearted breath, pressed his lips shut, and sunk for half a second deeper into the water, exactly up to his nostrils.

Daryl wiped his face with the back of his wrist and avoided his eyes, resting his forehead against Negan's safe inner thigh. "Can we go now."

"No, you will have to repeat. That was too fast. Old Negan has crappy eyes." Damp breath was sighed against Negan's skin in pure annoyance. It made him chuckle and grasp his sub's chin to create none too gentle eye contact. "Number one, you don't fucking sigh at me!" He arched his brows, raising his voice into a sterner tone. "And secondly, you wanna hold on to my legs, take a deep breath, and go with your full head under water. Count to three. Come up and look at me." He arched his brows a bit higher when blue eyes squinted at him, "You may start." then released the man's chin. "Hands on my legs."

Daryl wiped his eyes, sniffed his nose and waited another three seconds before he wrapped his fingers around Negan's calves. He took a deep breath and tried his best to go with his full head under water. It was harder than he thought and he gave up after counting to just one, panic overpowering him. He hid his face against Negan's knee, feeling like the biggest loser on earth, but Negan didn't seem to agree.

"Almost! Nice start, Daryl." He bent down, cupping the side of his sub's face in his hand, and put the other to the top of his head. "Try again. Inhale for me."

Daryl looked up, seeing no sign of mockery in dark eyes. He took a small breath, then a really deep one, shut mouth and eyes, and felt a slight pang of panic when he was gently pushed under water, his head held safely by two strong hands. He didn't count, but heard a steady, familiar voice even under water. It said three words that sounded a bit blurry, before he was pulled back up again, blinking the water from his dark blond lashes. He wasn't even really out of breath, but instead felt incredibly happy that he had done it.

"GOOD JOB!" Negan praised the achievement immediately, "Look at you being so awesome!" holding Daryl's head in both hands to pull him up for a rewarding kiss. "Did you do so well for me?"

Daryl nodded, a little smile curving the corners of his mouth up. "Hm."

"Mhm." Negan brushed his nose against a wet cheek. "Answer or the TV stays off for a fucking week."   

"Did it for you." It was a quiet reply, but true nonetheless.

"Yes you did. You also wanna learn how to swim and dive like a pro once we are back in Atlanta, right?"

The image of himself diving for a penny in Negan's awesome bathtub popped up in Daryl's mind and he nodded, because he really wanted to do anything for the tall angry man, especially in Atlanta. "Okay."

"Okay." Negan swept some wet hair aside, kissing droplets off pale pink lips. His voice adapting a more raspy tone, that made his sub press his thighs firmly together under the surface of the warm pool water. "Now I'm taking you to my room and feed you a raisin. Then I'll decorate that pretty ass of yours with my hand print."

----

It was dark outside, the land long gone, but the storm seemed to follow the mighty white cruise ship out to the open sea, making it wild and angry.

Daryl stood naked in the almost dark room, his palms flat to the pane of the closed balcony door, tensing when a huge flash of lightning crashed down in close distance, followed by three more, looking like a scary laser show at a dance club.

"Boy." Negan came out of the bedroom wearing nothing but a pair of luxurious black pajama pants, the tips of his hair still damp from the shower he had shared with his sub. "I asked you for a drink."

Daryl sniffed his nose, glancing a last time at the massive spectacle outside, and went to pour a glass of Scotch for Negan. He held two fingers to the glass, because it was definitely evening, and carried it to where Negan had chosen to sit. On the couch, right in the middle, as if the whole piece of furniture was rightfully his own. "'s your drink, Sir." He mumbled his shy explanation very quietly, but Negan heard it anyway and seemed to like the provided service.

"Good job." He stretched his right leg out, leaning into the backrest, "Down, boy." and watched his sub crouching down, insecurely biting his lip, before moving into the correct position, with his back straight and knees spread. Negan waited a moment longer, just giving Daryl a silent stare, satisfied when the man put his arms behind his back and lowered his eyes submissively. "Very nice."

The praise, spoken in low voice, went straight into the pit of Daryl's stomach, like a swig of warm, comforting tea. "It's evening." He mentioned it quietly, pulling the fingers of his left hand in the privacy behind his back.

"It is evening." Negan confirmed, his tone soft and casual. "You poured me a great drink, right?" He sipped his Scotch, enjoying the display of submission in front of his eyes. He loved Daryl nude, wearing just a blush and his collar. He looked insecure and vulnerable, always wearing his defiant lion heart openly on his sleeve. It made him the purest human being he had ever met, and without a doubt, it made him easily the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Daryl looked down at his spread legs and smiled, straightening his back a little more. "Yes."

"Mhm." Negan sipped his drink lazily, his eyes roaming over his naked boy, then he nudged him with his toes. "Lick." He rested his bare foot on top of Daryl's knee, making clear what body part he meant.

Daryl had done it before. He liked Negan's feet. They were always cooler than the rest of his body, neatly groomed, with just a little bit fine, dark hair on top, and very soft on the underside. They also tasted good. But still, he glanced up nervously, needing that last hint of confirmation, before he started on his task and bent down to place a clumsy kiss to the top of his owner's foot. He tried it with his arms behind his back first, but then gave up on his perfect posture and took the offered foot in both hands to lick it as he was supposed to. Small, shy dips with the tip of his tongue, then broader licks, more slow and relishing. After half a minute he placed Negan's foot on the carpet, still holding it like a precious gift, and went on knees and elbows, raising his bare butt in the air, as he took a toe into his mouth and sucked it gently.

Negan watched, languidly swirling the golden liquid in his glass, as damp breath and warm spit were evenly spread around the sensitive skin of his foot. "Did you like your reward day?"

"Yes." Daryl licked between two toes, then looked at his work, liking how it all glistened.     

"Mhm. Full sentence."

Blue eyes glanced up for a second. "I liked it."

"What did you like about it?"

Daryl huffed a small breath then placed a kiss to Negan's ankle. He really wished answering questions wouldn't be so difficult. "You." He licked down to the man's heel, slurping the skin there with a quiet wet, sound. "'n the ocean." The breath hitched in his throat, and his teeth scraped accidentally over damp skin, when a second foot nudged him hard into the side. He glanced up, meeting a stern face. "I like you and the ocean." His answer didn't sound very confident, and he smacked his lips before adding two more things he had really liked. "And reading and the animals." He sniffed his nose, hoping it was right now.

Obviously it was, because Negan showed a little smile, emptied his glass with a long gulp, and then held it out without a comment.

Daryl got up and carried it back to the small bar, not sure if he was supposed to refill or not. He decided against it after a moment of hesitation and went back, wanting to kneel back down, but Negan stopped him.

"No. Stand at the wall for me."

He wanted to ask why, but then didn't and chose the wall right next to the couch, because he wanted to stay close to Negan. He didn't know if he should do anything, and just faced the wall like he did at the Spa, even though he was pretty sure that he hadn't been bad this time. He waited almost three minutes, where it was completely silent, except for the steady, faint thrum of the ship's engines. Then he sensed how Negan got up and moved through the room. First farther away, leaving a noticeable emptiness and cold, that was replaced by nervous anticipation and excitement when he came back and stood so close that it made the fine hair at the nape of Daryl's neck stand, as soon as he started to speak, low and dark.

"You want to put your arms up."

Daryl answered a nervous 'Yes' and wasn't even sure why, because he hadn't been asked a question. He wondered why his fingers were shaking as he put them up against the wall. And then exhaled warm breath and let his forehead sink against the cool surface as well, when a tall, solid body suddenly covered his complete backside, standing flush with him.

Gentle lips at his ear, a bare, broad chest pressing into his back, a hard cock, hidden underneath a ridiculously thin layer of fabric, rubbing against his ass. It made his own penis twitch, a deep arousing sensation welling up inside his lower abdomen.

"What animals did you like today."

The question asked in husky, rumbling voice didn't really fit the topic, and Daryl felt confused on more levels than one, when he glanced up, noticing that something was wrapped around his wrists.

"Hm? Tell me." Negan kissed his sub's ear, blindly tying his hands up with a 15-foot rope, in an easy handcuff tie.

"Fishes." Daryl nuzzled the side of his face against Negan's, searching the comfort of warm skin and a rough beard. "'n crabs."

"Mhm." Negan secured his work with a square knot, made sure he could slide two fingers underneath the rope, "You want a raisin?" and turned Daryl around, letting him lower his bound arms.

"Hm." Daryl nodded, feeling butterflies flutter their wings in pure happiness, as he found himself almost nose to nose with Negan, smelling the faint scent of liquor on perfect lips. "Yes."

"You do?" Negan nodded as well, arching his brows with a slight smirk. "Then answer like a good boy and give me a full fucking sentence." He stared his sub right in the eye, and at the same time, shoved a hand between the man's legs, neglecting his cock and balls, and instead went right for his ass crack. Unimpressed by the small gasp, huffed in his direction. "Go on. Speak for me, Daryl."

Daryl felt a little overwhelmed. He widened his stance two inches, wanting to give better access to his butt, his heart thumping in his chest, his bound arms squished between both of their bodies, his mind racing with the things that could happen next. He glanced up shyly, trying to make his voice work, doing his best to keep eye contact. "I liked the fishes." He exhaled, flicking his head nervously. "'n the..." He exhaled again, one of his bound hands imitating the significant movement of pincers. "I also liked a crab."

Negan listened to his sub's rough voice, watched blue eyes flickering insecurely, noted the added hand gesture, and loved it all so much that he walked him with a final step into the wall, taking his mouth into a deep, possessive kiss. He let his hands roam over bare, glowing skin, wound fingers into perfect hair and pushed the man's head back, hard against the wall, pinning him roughly into place for as long as he wanted the ravishing kiss to last.

Daryl felt his stomach tighten and a thick drop of pre-cum oozing from the tip of his swollen cock. Firm fingers wrapped around his chin and jaw, almost painfully tight, firm lips and an imperious tongue taking what ever they wanted, saliva, oxygen, and every rational thought included.

"Good boy." Negan brushed the tip of his thumb over spit wet lips, licked them a last time and reached down to gather some liquid off Daryl's throbbing dick. "Look how much you like me." He fished a raisin out of his loose pocket, licked it obscenely right in front of dazed blue eyes and then fed it, holding it between precum coated fingers. "Is that so fucking tasty?"

It was the best raisin Daryl had ever had. He nodded, "Yes." and clawed his bound fingers into Negan's bare chest, as much as he could, feeling so raw and needy it made his throat tight and gave him the willingness to speak all on his own. "Can you fuck me." He was sure it wasn't the best way to ask it and he hated hearing his silly, hoarse voice, but the ache and yearning in his chest was so bad, he didn't care much.

Negan didn't seem surprised, neither by his sub speaking, nor by the actual question. He tucked longish hair behind a pale ear, adored the look of it for a moment and then leaned in to brush a blushed cheek with his nose and lips. "Will I fuck my Daryl?" He inhaled his sub's scent, closing his eyes. "I don't know... maybe later. First I want to play with you. Make your pretty skin even prettier." He cooed his intentions, rolling his distinct hardness teasingly against Daryl's body. "Right? I want you to mark that fucking carpet here with one of your sweet puppy puddles when I spank your gorgeous ass."

Daryl whimpered, despair, fear and longing consuming his mind. He wanted to beg, ask questions, and just be quiet and let Negan take over, all at the same time. He also wanted to kiss and turned his head a little, searching wonderful scruff and firm lips. He moaned quietly when he found them and then again when they bluntly parted his mouth and a confident velvet tongue found its way inside. The feeling shot right down through his chest into his lower body, making his internal muscles pulse in excitement. He exhaled through his nose, refusing to break the kiss just to take a stupid breath. But after two more seconds it happened anyway, and Negan spoke against the corner of his mouth.

"You wanna turn around and put your arms up against the wall for me?"

Daryl didn't open his eyes, just nodded and said something similar to a 'Yes', because he wanted to do whatever the wonderful deep voice told him.

"Good boy." Negan supervised as Daryl re-positioned his body, arms up high above his head, bound hands against the wall, his feet in shoulder-width. "Explain what you do if you want me to stop."

Daryl stared down at his naked feet on the carpet, then raised his head to look at the close wall, feeling so nervous as if he was supposed to get all his teeth removed at the dentist, without anesthesia. "I do my fist." He meant to say his signal but was too embarrassed to correct the sentence, so he demonstrated it with his bound left hand and stuck his little finger out.

"That's right." Negan rubbed his flat hand briefly over Daryl's bare back. "And today you even do it if you wanna stop just for a moment. You do it if you want to stop entirely. You do it if you just have to scratch your fucking nose. Understood?"

"Yes." Daryl was short from doing it already, clenching his butt in fear of the first swat. He knew what it felt like, he knew he hated it the first moment and loved it in the second. But maybe a real spanking would hurt much more and not feel nice at all. But before he had the chance to think it all over again, a sharp sting bit into his right ass cheek.

"What do you wanna say!"

Daryl curled his fingers against the wall, feeling confused for a moment. "I understood."

"Like a good boy!" Negan raised his voice once more, his hand coming down hard on the same spot.

"Sir."

And almost immediately a third time. "Full fucking sentence, boy!"

Daryl gasped and nudged his nose against the wall, hot burning sizzles crawling over his skin. "I understood, Sir." His answer was quiet, sounding embarrassed and full of worship. Before all tension fell from his body because a tall, safe body melted against his entire backside, wrapping around him like a blanket.

"Yes, you did." Negan looped an arm around his sub from behind, soothingly stroking his chest and belly, as he nuzzled the side of his neck. "And you don't have to be scared." He spoke low, his voice soft and comforting. "It hurts. But I don't fucking hurt you." He kissed a pale earlobe, offered another moment of close contact, and then left into the bedroom.

Daryl looked back over his shoulder, wanting to go with him. But then didn't, because he was supposed to stand at the wall.

"Eyes to the wall, puppy." Negan came back with his favorite riding crop and a flogger made of Scandinavian elk hide, wearing one leather glove. He put the flogger down on the floor, searched for something on the desk, dimmed the light a little more, and then stood close behind Daryl. "What's that." He held the crop in front of his sub's chest.

Daryl shifted nervously on his feet. "Your crop." The object in question snapped against his skin instantly, somewhere on his left thigh. "Sir."

"That's right." Negan stroked his fingers along the middle of Daryl's chest, taking the crop back out of his view. He brushed the leathery tip up and down the man's inner leg. "You want me to use it on you, boy?"

Daryl spread his legs an inch more, feeling goosebumps crawl over his skin. He knew how the riding crop felt on his butt. It was a sharp pain but not very intense. He kind of liked it. "Okay." Bare fingers snapped harshly against his fully erect shaft, making him flinch and gasp out loud, before he corrected his answer. "I wan'." The fingers snapped again, causing him to move his butt backwards in an unsuccessful attempt to avoid the stinging pain. "Sir."

"Better. Spread your legs some more, give me a nice view." Negan stepped back, watching as his order was followed and started to run the tip of his crop along Daryl's other leg, very light, up his side, to his shoulder and back down again, along his spine, making him arch his back. And then exhale soundly when the leather part was dragged down his sub's crack, touching his balls from behind. "Pretty boy, look at you." Negan's soft words stood in stark contrast to the sharp swoosh cutting through the air, as he delivered the first satisfying smack across pale skin, right where the butt cheeks meet the upper thighs.

Daryl flinched. It was louder than he thought, and he wasn't sure for a second if he should show his signal, before his brain registered that he wasn't in real pain. He looked back over his shoulder, needing to see Negan's face.

Negan let him and smiled encouragingly. "What was that, puppy?" He dragged the crop teasingly back and forth at the lower half of Daryl's bare buttocks. "Did I smack you?" He let it snap again, a bit harder this time, watching as Daryl first gasped in shock and then closed his eyes, exhaling soundly through his nose. "Tell me."

Daryl meant to nod but wasn't sure if he actually did, mumbling a small, "Yes." and flinched again, mixed with a slight groan, as the swoosh came twice more, making his backside sting and prickle.

"Yes, I did." Negan let the flimsy leather tip tickle along his sub's skin again, the outside of his leg, his stretched out arm, the back of his collared neck. "Do you like my riding crop?"

"Yes." Daryl faced the wall, nervous shivers running down his spine. He could feel parts of his butt getting hot, exactly where he had been hit. It was frightening and exciting at the same time, leaving him vulnerable and in deep need to be closer to the tall, safe body standing so close.

"Yes?" Negan let his tool travel back down again, drawing random patterns on sensitive skin. "What do you wanna do with it?" He teased the man's crack once more, before he smacked the broad side of the crop across firm buttocks, loving how Daryl stood his ground this time, barely flinching. "Hm? Tell me, boy."

Daryl let his head fall between his arms, closing his eyes as another smack stung into his flesh, like a string of hot lava. "I can hold it." His words were hoarse and quiet, before a further strike hit precisely on the last red stripe. "Sir."

"Oh yes? You wanna hold it for me?" Negan stroked the marked skin soothingly with flat hand, tapping the flimsy leather tip along his sub's inner thigh. "Carry it around like a good puppy boy?"

Daryl nodded and then tried to move his crotch out of reach when the tip of the crop tapped his balls and throbbing cock from behind. "Yes, Sir." He really wanted to hold it very badly and receive a raisin-treat for doing such a good job.

Negan chuckled. "Clever boy." He swung his arm back to deliver a last strike on a bare ass, making Daryl wail, but not jerk back. "Good job." He praised his sub in low voice, stepping close immediately, chest to back. "Are you such a fucking tough puppy for me?" He wrapped an arm tightly around the man's chest, holding him close, kissing the side of his collared neck. "Hm?"

"Yes." Daryl soaked the close body contact up like a starving man, wanting to tell the tall angry man all about his aching bum, but then remembered that he knew it already.

"Yes, you are." Negan brought the crop up, and pushed it between Daryl's teeth. "You are also a good helper and want to hold my crop for me while I'm busy playing with you."  

Daryl nodded, glad that he couldn't speak anymore.

Negan ruffled his sub's hair, "Fucking proud of you." and picked the flogger up from the floor. It was one of his favorites. Black and soft, with a short handle and long tails that allowed for vigorous flogging with a heavy sounding thud. "That's my flogger, right? It feels differently." He ran it affectionately over Daryl's shoulders and down his back, letting him feel the new tool. He knew it was the most sensitive area for his sub, and monitored him closely, as he began to swing it lightly in crisscrossing motions, watching the dark strips of hide caressing pale skin.

Daryl tensed and held his breath, his fingers curling against the cool wall, as the tails landed on his flesh with light thudding sounds. He whimpered, arching into the surprising feeling, not sure if it was pain.

"You wanna breathe out for me." Negan stopped for a moment, and when he heard the sound of exhaling, he stepped closer, peppering wet kisses between Daryl's shoulder blades and down his upper back. "Good job. You're doing awesome." He kept the close contact for a minute and then moved back again, changing his motions to send the tails against his sub's upper thighs, using more force.

Daryl heard the flogger being drawn back, the swish and flick splitting the air. He closed his eyes, when the tips fell across his thighs and butt, and pulled in a deep breath around the crop in his mouth, before letting it out in a quiet, quivering wail.

"Nice work, Daryl. Concentrate on what I'm doing." Negan kept his tone of voice affirming and positive, as he stepped up the intensity of his blows, delivering them rhythmically to his boy's ass and thighs. "You wanna be all pink and pretty for me, isn't that right."

"Hh." Daryl nodded once, breathing heavily through his parted teeth, feeling a small trail of drool running out of the corner of his mouth. He wanted to be all pink for Negan and leaned into the penetrating blows, that created a burning blaze of heat in the surface of his skin, before it seeped deeper into his muscle and flesh.

"Good fucking boy." Negan swung a little harder, landing stinging blows on already glowing skin. The thudding sound of leather mixed up with slowly increasing panting and wailing noises. Thighs starting to tremble, fingers cramping against the wall with each new strike.

Daryl forgot everything around, the only two things existing were the overwhelming hot, throbbing sensation all through his body, and the man in charge and full control, standing right behind him. Every time he thought he couldn't take any more, that the sting was too sharp and the pain too much, a large, comforting hand soothed the worst of it away like magic, along with soft kisses on heated skin and sweet, praising words rumbled right next to his ear. It flooded his body with warmth and a completely new thrill. Like flying and walking on air.

"Are you dripping so nicely for me?" Negan increased the power of his underhand swings, delivering solid blows to Daryl's dark pink buttocks with satisfying thuds, alternating every now and then with feathery tickling, dragging the tails of his flogger through the man's crack or along his balls. "Go on, look down, puppy, what are you doing." He stopped for a moment, rubbing his palm over the heated flesh, then reached around to give his sub's cock a few strokes, nudging his own aching dick against a prettily glowing ass. "Good boy, marking the fucking carpet as I told you, right?"

Daryl whimpered around his crop, writhing desperately in Negan's hold. The sweetly cooed words and firm hand around his penis made him dizzy and so needy that he pushed his hips back, in search for a hard dick and relief of some sort.

The rough, unashamed panting and grunting out of his sub's mouth, the sight of a growing pink flush on sore, pale skin, and a light sheen of glistening sweat covering it all,  was the kind of thing that filled Negan's wet dreams. He groaned, slipping the front of his PJ bottoms down, allowing his rock hard cock to spring free, and rubbed the swollen, dripping head along Daryl's crack, having to close his eyes for a second. "Fuck, boy, you're really making my balls ache." He chuckled, kissing Daryl's sweaty back, and pulled his pants up again, ignoring the wailing protest he received.

"Ten more. Ready, boy?" He landed the flogger forcefully on the rise of Daryl's ass, the leather making a satisfactory noise in both the air and against his skin.

Daryl gave a harsh sound, arching into the pain. It burned through him like a wave, turning into deep pleasure, that reached his most private spots. He counted the strikes along in his head, biting down on the crop between his teeth, not caring that thick saliva trickled down his chin. The pride in Negan's voice and all the sensations rushing through his body spurred him on to be just a little bit better and reach the final blow and number ten.

"Look at you doing so fantastic!" Negan delivered number nine with a satisfied chuckle, then lunged out for number ten, harder and more stinging than those before, watching as Daryl's head shot up, the crop falling out of his mouth as he sobbed out in pain. "Yeah, good boy, Daryl, being so awesome for me!" He threw the flogger onto the couch and leaned over his sub's back, heat radiating off the man's searing, sore skin. "Are you making me so fucking proud, puppy? Tell me." He nestled his hard bulge against a bare ass and kissed freckled shoulders with gentle, open mouthed kisses.

It caused Daryl to tremble with need. "Yes." He turned his head, needing to feel rough facial hair and warm skin. His butt throbbed, the muscles inside and the skin on the outside, spreading their tingles all through his lower body, making his inner thighs prickle and his penis twitch and leak. He exhaled soundly through his nose, desperately wanting to ask for a fuck again, or some more of the flogging, but he didn't dare.

Negan granted him a kiss, a brief one, intimate and gentle. "You wanna present that fucking gorgeous, pink ass for me on the bed, so I can fuck you." It was a firm command in dark silk voice, finished off with a loving bite to Daryl's jawbone. "Chop chop."   

Daryl felt like his feet were made of sponges or soggy bread, as he made his way towards the bedroom, walking a bit awkward. His backside felt strange, numb and very hot. He wanted to rub it but his hands were securely bound together with a 15-foot rope, allowing not much self touching.

The luxurious white bedding felt incredibly soft and cool to his skin. He noticed the new chocolate on their pillows and a duck made of a white towel sitting in between. It was difficult to crawl onto the mattress with tied up hands, aching bum and hard penis, but he managed it, and found his position easily. He lowered his chest down, dug his face into the comforting sheets and raised his butt high up. It felt good that way.

But wasn't to Negan's liking. "No. Knees and elbows, boy. Get that pretty head up." He entered the room, having his leather glove replaced by one made of black latex, and searched for some lube. He threw it onto the bed, then stroked a loving hand over his sub's glowing ass cheeks, admiring his handy work. "Fucking beautiful."

"Hm." Daryl wasn't sure what the tall angry man meant and then flinched startled, when a large hand came down on his bum with a dull thud. He gasped, making his back round.

"No!" Negan swatted the spot again, raising his voice. "Arch!"  

Daryl held his breath, lowering his butt, then raised it again, not sure what to do for a moment, before he arched his back and spread his legs a little more.

"That's right." Negan rubbed two fingers through an exposed ass crack, then spread a very generous amount of lubricant on it. "Keep your ass like that. You wanna present that hole for me."

"Yes." Goosebumps crawled down Daryl's back, when the cold gel was massaged around his entrance.

"Yes, what." Negan worked the small opening with two fingers, probing and circling them in, loving how Daryl pushed immediately against him, eager to help.

"Hh." Daryl closed his eyes, letting his head fall, when a skillful finger pushed past his outer muscle.

"Yes what!" Negan twisted his finger, and swatted Daryl's thigh hard with the other hand. "Head up!"

A shaky sob escaped Daryl's throat. He raised his head, trying to make his voice work. "I keep my ass so." He wasn't sure what to say and then whimpered because a second finger found its way into his insides, rubbing his inner walls expertly.

"Mhm." Negan bent down, planting an open mouthed kiss to the man's left ass cheek, appreciating the dark pink color. "You keep your ass up like that, right. What do you wanna present for me?" He twisted his fingers, then crooked them rapidly against his sub's prostate, wishing he had his phone to take a picture of Daryl's massively dripping dick.

Daryl panted heavily, closing his eyes, as he tried to keep his head up, and back arched, like he was supposed to. "My hole." A hard swat to his sore butt cheek made him  correct his answer. "Sir."

"Mhm." Negan spat a thick drop of spit to his sub's crack, pulled his fingers out and worked them back in, along with his still warm saliva. "I love your pretty puppy hole, right?"

Daryl nodded and wailed loudly, the back of his thigh being spanked twice. He felt out of breath and wanted to be squished into the mattress by Negan. "Yes." His answer sounded despairingly, close to tears, and he didn't even know why.

Negan did, pulled his fingers out and eased three back in. "Yes I do." He bent down, kissing the top of Daryl's butt. "Will you cum for me if I fuck it?" He cooed his question in deep voice, scratching five fingertips over sore, pink skin. "Hm, boy? Tell me. Will you make a sweet puddle for me if I shove my dick up your pretty puppy hole?"

"Yes." Daryl sobbed, squeezing his eyes shut, afraid that he would cum right there, on the spot, and then forgot all about it when a firm hand swatted him once more, but lower this time, intentionally hitting his free hanging balls in the process. "Yes, Sir!" He wailed out loud, feeling his eyes well up, the need to hold Negan's hand getting overwhelming.

Negan knew, retracting his fingers completely, threw his glove somewhere to the right, and knelt down on the bed. "Turn around." It was a soft command, and supported by strong helping hands.

When Daryl felt cool sheets and a soft mattress underneath his back, he felt so grateful that his throat got tight and his heart ached. His lips parted with a soundless gasp as Negan moved on top of him, smoothly hooking one of his legs over a strong arm, and eased himself deep between hot throbbing butt cheeks, instantly starting to thrust, firm and full of control as he always was.

"More than like you." Negan was out of breath when he said it, not loud, not especially emphasized, but true, to a hundred percent. He looked down into a blushed face, framed by sweaty hair, innocent blue eyes gazing up at him, full of wonder and pure worship. He huffed a small breathless laugh at the beautiful sight and closed his eyes, touching their foreheads together. "Go on, cum for me puppy." He circled his hips twice more, pressed in really deep, groaning dark in his throat when he felt Daryl clench and pulse around him. He muffled his sub's little sobs and keening sounds with a deep kiss, sensual and possessive, pausing just for a second, overwhelmed when his own climax hit him like a train. He stuttered in his motions, his hips snapping, panting into the wet silk of Daryl's mouth.

Daryl clawed his fingers into the sheets and wrapped his legs around Negan's waist, as tightly as he could. Sparks flying in every direction in front of his closed eyes, before they spread all through his body, making everything tingle, up into his toes and fingertips. His mind was overflowing and blank at the same time. He wanted to crawl into Negan's broad chest and hide there forever. He wanted to show him the small silver tag with the 5 letters he had stamped in, just to make sure he wouldn't forget. He wanted to lick his own collar. He felt little and tender, vulnerable to the core. Not sure if he had to pee or cry or smile. Not sure if he was upset or really very happy.

He didn't have to know. Because he was squished into the mattress by the smartest man on the whole ship, maybe even on the planet.

----

At almost 1 in the morning, somewhere in the Caribbean sea, Daryl didn't even realize that an angry storm raged outside, with roaring thunder, and bright lightning, churning the water around them.

He didn't realize, because he focused on Negan.

Sitting on the couch, tugged under Negan's arm, as close as possible to his side, wearing a thick bathrobe and socks that were too big for his feet. His sore backside was treated with cooling lotion, his teary eyes with a tissue out of the pocket of a heavy leather jacket. He felt clingy, but Negan didn't mind. He let him suck a comforting nipple and hide his face against a warm, safe chest. Even when the room service came to deliver a special aftercare-hot chocolate. Made of almond milk and real cocoa, in the middle of the night, especially for the VIP guest in 14244.

Negan stroked absently through the longish strands at the back of Daryl's head, watching the late night talker on TV, who made a joke about the President of the United States, and his preference for golden showers.

"And the report claims that he hired prostitutes to pee in beds, he knew the Obamas slept in."

He glanced down, when Daryl stopped sucking and instead chuckled around his nipple. "What's so funny."

Daryl looked up, blindly gesturing to the TV. "'s that true?"

"Why. You have a problem with people enjoying some fucking watersports?" Negan arched his brows, keeping a perfectly straight face.

Daryl shrugged, digging his nose into warm skin and dark chest hair. "He's the president."

Negan tickled the nape of Daryl's neck. "So? I'm your president."

Daryl thought about that. For almost five minutes. His eyes closed, one of his fingertips drawing small circles next to Negan's nipple. After 4 minutes and 56 seconds he stopped, sniffing his nose. "You're somethin' better."

Negan kept his eyes on the TV, but after twenty seconds he tipped his chin down, planting a kiss to the top of Daryl's head. "Keep sucking." It was a quiet order and followed immediately. "Fucking puppy."

Chapter Text

The sky was dark, hanging low with sinister, black clouds. The wind howling, a crack of lightening rent the air and within seconds the rolling boom of thunder reverberated through the night. Rain cascading like a waterfall from the heavens, pounding on the metal skin of the ship as if it were demanding entrance.

Daryl slept anyway. At 1:34 in the morning, after an intense scene, his body was a comfortable mess of hot skin and mushy insides, curled up on the couch, at Negan's side, long fingers entangled in his hair.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your captain speaking." The short rustling followed a serious voice out of the intercom. Negan turned down the volume of the TV. "Unfortunately the weather conditions are very unfavorable at the moment. The storm is more severe than the forecast mentioned. We have winds here, gusting up to an excess of 85 knots from the south, and we are expecting these conditions to continue throughout the night. However, the ship is handling it quite well, but we want to advise you to please stay inside, use the handrails, and watch out if you walk through doors, as they can be swinging rapidly. There might be a possibility of some calmer weather in the early morning, where the winds may ease off a little bit. So, until then we wish you a pleasant, hopefully not too uncomfortable night."

"'t was the captain." Daryl stared up at Negan, suddenly wide awake, his cheeks having lost all of their pretty glow.

"It was." Negan sighed and switched the TV off as he got up, a hand on top of Daryl's head. "He said it's bedtime for red-assed puppies."

That wasn't true, Daryl knew that, but he followed the tall angry man into the bedroom anyway, rubbing his sizzling butt cheeks through the thick terrycloth of his bathrobe.

"No mark today. You've had a time-out." Negan snapped his fingers on the way to the bathroom. "Go to bed and report."

A flash of guilt shot through Daryl's chest. Hopefully the silly masseur would run straight into one of the rapidly swinging doors. He sniffed his nose at the thought and then felt a little ill when the floor underneath his feet swayed dramatically. His head shot up, looking towards the window. There was nothing but black outside.

But obviously Negan had noticed it as well, because a sanguine voice came out of the bathroom. "It's just some wind. Go to bed and report."

Daryl grimaced, looking anxiously to the window as he climbed underneath the blanket. And three seconds later jumped out again, his stomach doing a somersault, when the whole room seemed to sway from left to right, the walls creaking a little. He went to the wardrobe and got on his tip toes to fish the lifejackets from the upper shelf.

Negan turned the water off, wiped his face dry, and then took his towel down with a glance into the mirror, as he saw a young man standing in the doorframe, clutching a couple of orange vests. "Boy." He flicked the toothbrush with a clink back into the cup. "If I would think that we'd need fucking life vests, I would have told you so. Take them back and start on your fucking report, it's late."

Daryl didn't move and instead held the bigger of the vests out, with a silent plea.

Negan lowered his chin and arched his brows, as he gave his sub an annoyed look. But then just took the offered flotation device with a sigh and waved his fingers. "Bed. Fucking puppy."

Daryl obeyed, but looked back over his shoulder three times to make sure the tall angry man was really following him.

He did. Put both of their life jackets on the bottom end of the bed, folded the covers back, and was just about to get in, when it knocked at the door. He sighed again, holding a warning finger in Daryl's direction, "You. Stay and report." and went to open.

A young man in an old KISS shirt and loose PJ bottoms stood outside, wearing a correctly fastened life vest and a very distressed expression on his lightly tanned face.

Negan sighed, rubbing his forehead with thumb and index finger. "Why the fuck are you not in bed."

Jesus didn't see a reason to wait until he was invited inside and just pushed past one of his Dads, bumping with the orange vest into the doorframe. "He kicked me out. Said he can't sleep with lights on and all my drama." He sounded as scandalized as he felt, as he headed straight for the bedroom to snuggle up next to his brother of choice. "If that thing goes down he can download an audio book of the story of Tír na nÓg, because I won't offer to tell it again!" He didn't joke, honestly offended. "I even tried for an Irish accent just to give him the full Titanic experience!"

"Hm." Daryl nodded full of sympathy, and moved to the middle of the bed, making some room for Paul and his bulky accessory. "Captain made an announcement." Where he practically said, between the lines, that they were all doomed.

"I know, right?" Paul threw his arms in the air, not sure why they weren't already on their way to the life boats.

Negan stood at the end of the bed, giving both of his subs a blank look. And then sighed for the fourth time that night, scratching his left eyebrow tiredly, when the ship swayed so much that the curtains moved, a ten-inch rubber dildo rolled off the nightstand, and the two young men in bed stared at him wide eyed, pure panic on their faces.

He saw his hopes for some much needed sleep properly dashed.

"You can't switch the lights off." Paul explained, and then corrected his statement into a more polite choice of words, when Negan gritted his teeth, switching the lights back on. "Please, Sir."

Daryl watched as Negan left the room and came back a minute later, with a laptop and a phone. He threw the latter onto the bed.

"Fucking report."

But despite his harsh words, put an arm around Daryl and pulled him close as he sat down in bed to get at least some work done, since sleeping was obviously not an option.

Daryl sniffed his nose, thankful for the offered body contact. He wanted to turn his head and kiss Negan's chest, but then was too shy and just started to type his report.

Good: - coin
          - piss
Bad:   - hair
          - answer
          - pool
Like: punishmand, day with Negan, readin-

"When I sucked you off this morning." Jesus leaned close, whispering right next to Daryl's face as he pointed at the phone display. "I was good."

Daryl pushed him off, but added it anyway because it was true.

Like: punishmand, day with Negan, reading, jesus
Hate: storm, timeout
Change: swiming

"Hm." As soon as he was finished, he held the phone in front of Negan's face, blocking the view to the laptop screen.

"What do you wanna say." Negan finished his sentence anyway, glancing past his sub's hand.

"'m done."

"I've finished my report for you, Sir." Negan corrected, saved his text and accepted the phone, pulling Daryl another inch closer. "Right?"

"Right." Daryl mumbled his agreement, burying his nose into Negan's bicep, squished underneath a strong arm, when the report was corrected right in front of his face.   

Good: - coin -- I cleaned Negan's money because I'm a sweetheart
          - piss -- I pissed on command for Negan like a good boy!
Bad:     - hair -- I didn't hold still for my haircut, but the result looks awesome anyway
           - answer -- I didn't speak when I was spoken to. I got a time-out and will do better next time.
           - pool   -- I was fucking courageous, going into the pool and holding my breath under water! Negan is fucking proud!
Like: punishment -- I liked scening with Negan and want to remember that punishment and impact play are very different things.
     day with Negan -- I liked my reward and want to earn another one soon!
                  reading --  I liked listening to Negan's voice ;)
                       Jesus -- I liked to play with Paul in the morning.

"I told him to write that." Jesus reached over to point at the phone Negan was holding, and then flopped down with his head in Daryl's lap, biting into the thick terrycloth of his bathrobe.

"Mhm." Negan blindly patted long, dark blond hair. "You wanna take that fucking vest off."

"Oookay." Paul unsnapped the black straps in front of his belly. "But you better find me a fine door to paddle on if that ship goes down, Mister." Negan didn't have to slap him in the head, because Daryl beat him to it. "Hey!" Paul laughed, throwing the life jacket off the bed, and snuggled back into Daryl's lap. "Why did you do that?"

"Hm." Daryl shrugged.

"Because you are a fucking twerp and he's a good boy." Negan typed the next sentence, expecting his sub to read along.

Hate: storm -- I don't wanna focus on the fucking storm. I wanna focus on the hot guy correcting my fucking awesome report!

He earned a small chuckle for the words appearing on the phone screen. "What puppy. Am I not fucking hot?"

The answer was scarcely audible because Daryl hid his face into the side of Negan's pecs, breathing damp air against warm skin. "You are hot."

"Yes, I am." Negan confirmed blatantly, typing the next sentence in front of Daryl's nose.

       time-out -- I didn't like when Negan had to correct my behavior
Change: swimming --  Swimming looks fun. I would like to be able to do it. My father didn't teach me when I was younger. But Daddy will as soon as we are back in Atlanta ;)

Negan gave his sub a moment to read his final sentence and cocked his brows at him when Daryl glanced up. "Right?"

"Hm." Daryl felt a little queasy, thinking about more swimming lessons, after being in the pool and seeing how hard it really was. "Yes."

Jesus wriggled a finger beneath Daryl's bathrobe, poking his bare belly. "He taught me how to swim when we met. He's a great teacher."

Daryl sniffed his nose, imagining Jesus holding on to Negan's legs for a dip underneath the water, to practice holding his breath. He played with a strand of Paul's hair. "Why did you meet in the pool." His question sounded more gruff than intended, and the second it was out he wished he could take it back, because it sounded so nosy.

Negan put the phone on the nightstand, "We didn't." and briefly kissed his sub's hair, before he started to work on his laptop again.  

"That's true." Jesus wagged his eyebrows at Daryl, smiling up at him. "You wanna know how we met?"

"Hm." Daryl shrugged halfheartedly, but he really wanted to know. Maybe it was at the Eagle or Ikea. "Okay."

"Well, it was the night before Christmas -"

"No, it wasn't." Negan squinted, deleting a couple of e-mails from annoying people.

"Okay! Maybe it wasn't the night before Christmas." Jesus confessed with a chuckle and then moved to sit on his knees between Daryl's legs, stroking his bearded chin as he tried to recall the true occurrences. "If I remember correctly, it was All Hallows' Eve." He nodded, gazing up at nothing in particular. "Many moons ago, when I was still a cute, innocent fledgling."

Negan snorted but Paul ignored him, adapting a more dramatic voice. "I left the Eagle early that night because for the first time ever, it was strangely empty. Almost abandoned, as if all the hot guys had vanished, lured away by an invisible hand, or hypnotic voice that only they could hear." He shook his head in wonder at the memory. "It was really odd. And it got even more peculiar when I stepped outside. The temperature had dropped noticeably and the wind was so strong that I could hardly stay upright. It stung on my face and seeped through my clothes like it tried to reach my bones and bite my skin."

"Hm." Daryl nodded. He knew exactly how that kind of wind felt.

"But the strange thing was," Paul continued, glad that he had full attention. "That there was no mention of the storm on the internet or TV. There were no weather warnings, you know. And when I looked down, the street was of course covered in dry leaves and all the candy wrappers from the trick-or-treaters, but they didn't blow over the sidewalk, they lay still, not one was moving, as if the sudden storm wasn't even meant for them." Paul gave Daryl a mysterious look, arching one brow, hoping for some sign of fear on the man's pale features, but he just looked curious. He shrugged. "But I just thought, 'Okay, strange things happen sometimes, right?', and I really wanted to find a real good Halloween party and dance like crazy until my feet hurt. So I pulled my coat tighter and as I fought my way down the street, wondering why the candles inside the Jack-o-lanterns didn't even flicker, I saw that Drag Queen from three blocks down," He snapped his fingers. "You know the chubby one, what's her name, Sir?"

"Chrystal Cocks." Negan didn't look up from his text, his fingers flying over the keyboard.

"Right! Ms Cocks! I saw her walking across the street in a short dress and her beautiful blue hair looked totally unruffled! You know?" Paul swung his arms, copying her casual stride. "She just strolled about as if it had been a balmy summer night, while my hair blew around my face like crazy and my poor dangly bits were practically frozen."

Daryl sniffed his nose, scratching a spot beneath his collar bone. He had no idea what that meant.

"I walked around the corner, not sure why, but the wind seemed to push me in that direction. And I didn't even notice when the first lamppost went out, because I was still wondering where Chrystal had bought that bad ass hairspray. Then two blinked out, "Paul snapped his fingers twice. "Then three, until the only light in the entire street was that gentle yellow flicker from the Jack-o-lanterns." He shook his head again, pressing his lips into a straight line. "I stopped and was all like, 'Yeah right. Where's the camera' and then suddenly it felt like the cold air wrapped around me like a really tight blanket, making my muscles freeze. I got panic, I couldn't breathe, it was like being eaten by a huge invisible monster, like it would gnaw on me. And then when I thought 'Okay, that was it for poor baby Jesus' it spewed me out!"

Daryl knitted his brows, when Paul raised his voice and gestured wildly to his dramatic story telling. He started to believe that something about this story maybe wasn't true.

"So I tumbled onto the concrete, hurting my precious buttocks, and then I ran for my life, because when I looked back over my shoulder, that horrible ice cold stormy monster fucking chased me! It looked like one of those twirly things." Paul circled his index finger in the air, searching for the right word.

"Tornado." Daryl knew it because he had seen several of them.

"Exactly!" Jesus snapped his fingers again. "Like a tornado, but a real angry one, and it roared and screamed at me, making me run faster and faster. I had no idea where I was going, I just ran and stumbled and didn't even think anymore, and then as suddenly as it had popped up from nothing, it just disappeared." He shrugged, shaking his head. "No idea why. And the annoying thing was, that I had run so fast and far, that I had no clue where I was. That part of town didn't look familiar at all."

"Hm." Daryl could absolutely relate.

"So I stood there, trying to figure out where I was and what the bleep just happened, and then I looked up, and a tall grey building arose mightily up in front of me. From the middle of the abandoned street, into the pitch black sky of the night, looking like it had grown there naturally somehow." Paul gave his voice a spooky timbre, gesturing with his hands, to paint a more vibrant picture for his one-man audience. "And I swear, even from a distance you could sense the old, venerable soul living behind these thick, intimidating walls." Jesus tipped his head to the side with a dreamy stare into space.

... and then cleared his throat and coughed once, when Negan looked up from his laptop, arching a very questioning brow at him. "Powerful I meant to say. Wise and beautiful. Superior." He cleared his throat again, shifting on the mattress to cross his legs. "And that's when I remembered what the locals said about this place." Paul nodded, holding one finger up. "They called it the Factory! And rumor had it, that it was haunted. That young men from all over the country were magically drawn to it. That they went in and got so intensely affected by the mere presence of the owner, that they never wanted to leave again. It was primal. Overwhelming. It felt as though the man had godlike power. The desire to be close to him was so urgent that it was frightening. It was difficult to breathe, difficult to remain standing. Bone dry mouth, zero appetite, heart all over the place. They feared that they might faint, their body screaming to be taken. They experienced a reckless willingness and primal desire to do whatever that man wanted. They felt the masculine power he radiated with every fiber of their being. Melting in a hot inferno of desire, out of their senses. In his presence they couldn't even imagine being in control. They were embraced by his power. They felt owned, totally his, completely submissive. And just the thought of having to leave this man one day, was enough to irrevocably break their hearts forever."

He ignored the loud sigh coming from one of his Dads. "BUT sooner or later all of them had to. And they would live pathetically heartbroken for the rest of their days, always missing something, not able to find it with any other person on earth." He ducked his head and grinned at Daryl, as five fingers slapped his upper arm. "I mean, it was just a rumor and you know me," He straightened his back, proudly dusting his shoulder off. "I'm not scared of anything."

"Hja." Daryl knew that wasn't true and huffed a laugh.

"Really, I was ready to take my chances. Actually I was kind of curious. People said the owner of the Factory was a bit eccentric. His skin too flawless for his age, always wearing shades outside, and that he was very particular about the use of sun blocker."

Negan highlighted a part of his text, not looking up. "Yep. Not wanting to die of fucking skin cancer is very eccentric."

"Just what I heard." Jesus pursed his lips with a shrug. "Also that his sense of humor was very dark, no room for sentimentality. And he never got offended over anything." He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. "I guess after a few centuries he'd seen it all, heard it all, and done it all, right?"

Negan raised his head with a blank look. "Centuries."

"Did I say centuries?" Paul reached out to stroke the scruff on Negan's cheek. "Decades I mean." Then gave Daryl a very faint shake of the head, mouthing a secretive 'centuries', because there was no other explanation for so much wisdom, preeminence and magical bat senses.

"Mhm." Negan didn't deliver a slap to the head because he needed two hands on the keyboard. "So what did he look like. Hope he was hot."

"Oh, you know..." Paul batted his eyelashes at the pretty man to his left. "Legend had it, that he was breathtakingly stunning. They said his skin sparkled in the moonlight and his dark eyes matched the night sky above perfectly."

Daryl rubbed his ear and glanced at Negan, confused whether Jesus was still talking about the tall angry man or not.

"Don't look at me, boy. I have no fucking idea what he's talking about." Negan switched to a different document, giving up on Paul's wild imagination.

"However," Jesus pinched his nose. "There I was all alone, after the strange winds of All Hallows' Eve had dragged me to this place. And as I said, I am not a coward, so I jogged across the street and stood in front of the furtive, rusted iron gate. Seven black crows sat along the high chain-link fence, staring at me with their cold gaze. They could probably smell my purity." He squinted one eye with a knowing nod and dramatic pause, pleased when Daryl stared at him in utter suspense. "The gate let out a piercing screech when I pushed it open, and as I walked up the long graveled driveway, I felt like I was being watched. I felt the glare of eyes burning me. And I swear I could hear dull music. It sounded like somebody was sitting at a big pipe organ, playing ominous tunes just for my arrival." Paul tipped his chin up with his eyes closed, playing an invisible piano in the air.

Negan shook his head with a groan, rubbing Daryl's chest when he noticed that he held his breath. "That's the biggest bullshit I've ever fucking h-"  

"Sssh." Paul held a finger to Negan's lips, shaking his head as well. "You just can't remember, Sir. It was a long time ago." He wanted to add 'And you are old', but then decided against it when dark eyes shot him a warning glance. He cleared his throat, patting Daryl's thigh. "Anyways. The path led me around the building, past some loading docks, probably for meat delivery, a blood-red door, around the corner to some stairs leading down to a guarded entrance. The music was louder here and I figured it must have been some kind of private Gothic dance club."

Daryl sniffed his nose, sliding an inch deeper underneath Negan's arm, picturing the black doors of the Leather Factory's club area. He knew the guard there.

"And you know, I am a sucker for good music and I was on the hunt for a great party, so I shrugged and thought 'Hey, why not'. I fixed my hair and flashed the doorman my cutest smile, but what do you know, he just crossed his arms and wouldn't let me in." Paul scrunched up his nose, looking still disappointed after all these years. "He asked all kinds of weird questions and wanted to see my fangs and horns. Apparently you had to be a very special creature to attend their sacrificial feast."

"Or it was a Halloween party." Negan offered. "With a fucking costume-only policy."    

"Yeah, that's one way to put it." Paul assumed. "But I was bugged. After all the stress and trouble I went through that night, I really wanted to have some fun and dance. So I told the crypt keeper 'Okay buddy, I would make a great offering to please the king of the netherworld, but you know what, use it or lose it!' and strolled off to find my own way into Dracula's castle."  

Negan felt Daryl chuckle and refrained from a serious scolding for calling him the count of Transilvania. Instead he closed his laptop and put it on the nightstand, deciding to listen to the rest of the story.  

"I went back the same way I had been coming from and didn't need long to find another entry. It was a heavy white metal door that obviously wasn't locked, so I twisted the handle and welcomed myself inside." Paul smiled smugly because that's exactly what he had done many years ago. "I stepped in, courageously as I was, and realized immediately that I had hit the jackpot!" He high-fived himself. "It was the owner's secret food cache, and as one of the free people in the world, I was of course always hungry. That's why I helped myself to a little midnight snack after all the excitement of the night."

"So you broke into my house." Negan didn't seem very happy with this plot twist, as he had always assumed boy number two had been a regular party guest with valid ticket. "And fucking stole my food."

Paul winced at the none too happy tone and leaned to the side to put his head onto Negan's bare stomach. "It's just creative story telling, Sir?" He looked up with his best 'please don't kill me'-face, hoping for mercy.

Negan shook his head with a cold stare, before he wiped a strand of long hair out of Paul's forehead. "Little shit." He pulled his arm tighter around Daryl's neck, pushing his head down onto his chest. "Did you come through the same door?"

Daryl stiffened, the thought of denying it crossing his mind for a second. But Paul smiled at him with a tiny shrug and Negan's fingers played with the collar around his neck, so he mumbled a small, "Yes." because that was the truth.

Negan pursed his lips, then sucked his tooth, tugging the small padlock at the back of Daryl's neck. "I guess I should brick it up then, before boy number three stands on my fucking doorstep."   

Daryl frowned at the thought and agreed instantly, "Hm." because he really didn't want any other guy coming through that door to steal Negan's peanuts and sleep on the grey couch. "I can do it." As soon as they were back in Atlanta.

"Mhm." A smirk flickered over Negan's face, looking down on his occupied chest. "You'd like that, don't you boy."

Jesus looked right into Daryl's close face and saw the glint in blue eyes. "I'll help. Show me how to mix that grey, sticky stuff and I'm your man." He stretched his legs out, lying comfortable with Negan's stomach as his pillow, and moved a bit closer to peck Daryl's lips. "Wanna hear the rest of the story?"

Daryl closed his eyes, kissing back. "Okay."

"Sweet." Jesus poked his tongue out to nudge pale pink lips, then entwined his fingers with Daryl's hand. "Now come the good parts."

"I hope so." Negan leaned his head back against the bed's headboard and closed his eyes, a hand broad and safe on Daryl's hair.

"There I was, pure and innocent as a newborn baby sheep, munching a handful of nachos on my way through the dark catacombs, fully aware that at any moment I could be caught and thrown into the castle's dungeon, but my brave little heart urged me further and further, deeper through the dark, damp cellar. The floor seemed to roll beneath my feet, the walls were vibrating, a dubious light flickered from somewhere in the distance. I went around the corner and a thin mist moved before my eyes, making the air smell sweet and earthy. It made my head swim like I had climbed a mountain, like the air was too thin to breathe."

"Hm." Negan played absently with the outer rim of a pale ear, not bothering to open his eyes. "That was before we had a weed ban at the club."

Paul chuckled at the blunt statement, kissing a hairy stomach, before he continued with his story. "And it was right then and there that I noticed how badly I had to tinkle. Because you know, you always have to tinkle at the most inconvenient times." He shot Daryl a look, knowing his brother would understand the problem. "But I figured, even the creatures of the night would have to pee sometimes, right? So there had to be a toilet somewhere and I found it behind door number 117." He made a pause, letting the image sink in, because he knew that Daryl knew all the door numbers of the A Block by now.

117 was the staff lavatory and Daryl's eyes filled with concern instantly, as Negan hated when someone used it who wasn't a member of the staff. "Did you go in."

"I had to!" Jesus laughed. "I would have peed myself if I had waited a minute longer. But it was fine, nobody was in there. So I was doing number one, washed my fingers, checked my hair, and was just on the way back out to finally find the party... when out of the shadows, a tall figure emerged. He was stunningly beautiful, wearing old jeans and a leather jacket, black hair combed back, perfect scruff on his flawless facial features." He smiled at Daryl, who looked really happy that the main man finally made his entrance. "He walked over to me, his feet barely touching the ground, and I don't remember what he said, but his voice was smoother than butter and made my heart stop momentarily."

Negan was so kind to remind him. "He said, 'What the fucking fuck are you doing in here, that's a fucking private room!"

"Oh yeah, right." Jesus scratched his bearded chin, the memory coming back. "And because I was so spellbound in this magnificent man's presence, I didn't protest when he grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and dragged me along with superhumanly strength, as if I wouldn't weigh more than a tiny pink cotton ball."

"Well, you don't." Negan huffed a laugh and arched his brows without opening his eyes.

Paul grinned and scowled at the same time. "But strangely enough," he gritted his teeth at one of his Dads, a little bit offended. "I wasn't scared, or worried where he would take me. I just surrendered to my destiny, ready for him to take me to his private chambers and throw me onto his huge velvet four-poster bed, so he could suck me dry."

"Yeah right, you wish."

"I meant my blood." Paul flashed his eyes at Negan, adding a mumbled little 'perv' in the end, that only a person with exceptionally bat hearing would be able to catch.

"Oh, I am the perv in this story." Negan snorted, the tip of his tongue poking out at the corner of his mouth, as he shook his head. "I see."

Paul squinted. "Anyways... so the tall gorgeous creature dragged me through the cold, dark hallways, closer and closer to the source of music, and before I had the chance to ask him for his number or a night in his coffin, I stood in the middle of a crowded dance club, and he was gone, disappeared, vanished in a cloud of mist."

"Ts." Daryl huffed a laugh, believing not a single word.

"It's true." Paul swore. "One second his hand was wrapped around my poor neck and the next second he was gone and I was amidst hundreds of leather men, who danced to the Purple People Eater." He shrugged, nipping the tip of Daryl's index finger. "But thankfully I am an adaptable person and I've seen all the episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, so I thought, 'Okay, he is probably just shy' and partied along with a sexy Peter Venkman. And I'm telling you, the people there knew how to throw a party!" Paul shook his head with a happy sigh, remembering one of the best nights of his life. "You couldn't see the floor, it was wall to wall pretty men dancing. After three hours I was covered in a gallon of sweat, even though I'm pretty sure not all of it was mine." He laughed and glanced up at Negan's relaxed face, eyes closed, head tilted back, absently brushing his fingers through long strands of hair. "And the whole time I felt eyes on me. Like a protective gaze from above, no matter where I went, no matter who I talked to, or what I did, I knew I was watched. But not in a creepy way, you know. It was really nice and tranquilizing. Like someone holding an umbrella over your head while you walk through really heavy rain."

Daryl sniffed his nose, the corner of his mouth curving into a soft smile. He knew that feeling very well, and when Paul made a fist and held it up an inch above Negan's stomach, he did the same and tapped their knuckles together in silent understanding.

"Well, you got half of the Atlanta leather club to dance the fucking Cha Cha slide with you. It was a sight to remember." It was true, Negan remembered that very well, standing up on the gallery, watching this pretty young man radiating positive energy and happiness. His smile wider than the golden gates, his eyes full of mischief and sparkle, dancing like it was his last night on earth and no-one was watching. But of course they all were. He just couldn't have cared less.   

"What can I say, everybody loves me." Jesus kissed the fine dark hair on Negan's stomach, then the back of Daryl's hand, before he yawned and snuggled his head back on warm skin. "I guess it must've been around four in the morning when I decided to leave and find myself a nice spot underneath my favorite snoozing-bridge. So I kissed three people that smelled really delicious good night, and was honestly bummed on my way outside, that I hadn't seen my tall, gorgeous stranger again. I even played with the idea to sneak through the building to maybe find him somewhere. But just as I opened a heavy door and suddenly found myself in an empty, dark staircase, I knew he was there." A spark of excitement shone in Paul's eyes and he lowered his voice a bit, to set the mood for the most important part of his story.  

"The temperature rose markedly, and in the descent of absolute silence I heard my heart race and blood pump like a hard working machine. I felt his presence behind me, and wanted to turn around before he could vanish again, because I really needed to see his beautiful face once more, so I could die happily one day. But then I froze, hearing his voice, dark and gravely and his cool fingers alighting on my neck. 'Rude boy, leaving without a Good Bye.' He ran them from behind my ear down underneath my coat and shirt, and leaned in close, to audibly sniff my skin like a wine connoisseur taking in a fine vintage." Paul chuckled, wriggling his finger back underneath Daryl's bathrobe to tickle his chest. "I was instantly a puddle and didn't dare to move, when I felt his lips at the crook of my neck. They were slightly cold but really gentle, then I felt them part and felt his warm tongue trace my flesh, right before something sharp scraped my skin. I gasped and closed my eyes. His arms were suddenly all around me and I shuddered in his hands, tilting my head to the side, to offer him more. I heard him moan, or maybe it was myself, as pure pleasure floated through my veins. It felt incredibly sexy and dangerous, a little bit painful, and then I noticed my body growing limp in his strong arms..."

Jesus closed his eyes with a deep sigh, imitating an unconscious person for a moment, just to add a dramatic effect, before he sat up again with a shrug of his shoulders. "And that's it. Next thing I knew, I woke up a few days later in one of his guestrooms with a huge headache and bite marks on my neck." He smiled and reached out to move a strand of stray hair out of Daryl's puzzled face. "And the rest is history. He made me his willing bitch."

Daryl wanted to smile, but it turned out a bit lopsided. He wasn't sure what to think or say, and after a moment just huffed an uncertain little laugh, avoiding his eyes. "'s bullshit."

Negan sighed and stretched his tired body, planting a kiss on Daryl's hair. "Right. It is not even fucking close to what really happened."

"Close enough." Paul chuckled, lying down on the left side of the bed, underneath the blanket. "It is loosely based on a true story." He snuggled up tightly to Daryl's backside, and then another inch closer, when the ship swayed noticeably again and a bright flash of lightning cracked down right in front of the window.

"Yeah, your fucking sparkly Vampire movies maybe." Negan switched the lights off, not allowing any protest this time, and moved to lie on his side, chest to chest with Daryl, who thankfully melted against him as if he tried to give up on any form of independent existence.

"Hm." Paul closed his eyes, one arm and leg draped over Daryl's body, a hand reaching out over two pillows to touch dark hair, that he loved most when it looked slightly ruffled. "It's a great story. They should make it a book."

"Mhm." Negan kissed the top of Daryl's head and wrapped a strong arm firmly around both of his boys, pulling them breathtakingly close. "Sleep now." He didn't receive an answer, but gentle fingertips played with his hair and shy lips wrapped around his nipple and started to suck in search for even more comfort.

----

At 2:52 in the morning, at a very stormy sea, the VIP passenger in suite 14244 was the only one who wasn't asleep.

He felt Daryl breathe evenly against his chest, a small trail of spit running out of the corner of his mouth.

He heard the almost calming noise of the thunderstorm outside and strong waves hitting the ship.

He curled a strand of Paul's long hair absently around his finger, thinking of the night he met him. A Halloween-themed Threshold. He had watched him almost the whole evening. And when he had lost sight of him and went for a search, he had found him in the staircase. Almost unconscious. High as a kite. The heroin syringe still in hand, after injecting it right into his neck vein.

It had been his last day as an addict. And the first day under someone's care.

Chapter Text

On the last day at sea, Daryl wasn't in the mood to share. His butt was sore and tender. He felt strangely emotional. It left him vulnerable. His need to be alone with Negan was so powerful, it made him angry. He wanted to hold hands and have strong arms wrapped tightly around his body. He wanted to be the only one spoken to.

He wanted the storm to come back, so all the silly fanboys would have to stay in their staterooms, instead of besieging the tall angry man at stupid 'Feast with Fans' breakfasts.

But it didn't look like the storm would come back. There wasn't a single cloud in the bright blue sky, and the ocean presented itself in its calmest manner, turquoise and friendly, like it wanted to pose for the next bestselling postcard picture.

Daryl glared at it through the window of the fancy dining room, and then at another pretty fanboy who asked for a photo with the current Mister International Leather. His name was Eli, and he turned his head in the last second to kiss Negan's cheek. Daryl wanted to stab him with the butter knife.

"What the heck, Orhan?" Jesus took the perfectly intact dollar note that the waiter had just impaled with a ball pen right in front of his eyes, and looked at it, totally perplexed. "How did you do that?" There wasn't a hole, not even a crinkle. It seemed like fresh out of the ATM. "Witchcraft!" Paul threw the paper money next to the small bowl with the organic honey from Mexico, as if it was cursed, and wiped his hands into his skinny jeans.

"It's just a cheap trick." Rick was sure, and shook his head, slightly annoyed with all the fanservice this morning. He hated when a meal was interrupted. He hated it even more when his boss was touched and smothered from every direction, not even able to have a sip of his matcha tea in between.

Orhan chuckled in the most polite way, refilling two cups at table 108, before he left to get more fruit and raisin buns, because the young man at the window seat looked especially unhappy today.

"You changed my life so much!" Eli didn't want to let go of the only man he had ever truly loved. "You mean everything to me!" He tried to steal another kiss, but Negan held him at distance this time, and instead signed the man's denim jacket.

"Thanks, Eli. You promise to be a good boy, right?" Negan closed his permanent marker and patted his fan's shoulder, signaling his time was over. "Enjoy your last day on board." He saw out of the corner of his eye that Daryl glared after the young man, but he didn't scold him this time. He had to admit the fan devotion was extreme today, and knew that his sub was a bit more sensitive than usual, so he snapped his fingers, demanding attention. "I'm sure you wanna finish your breakfast for me."

"Hm." It was true. Daryl wanted to do that, and anything else Negan asked him for. Preferably in the privacy of their suite. But that wasn't an option right now, that's why he took a bite of his gluten free bagel, making sure that he was watched while he did it.

He was watched. And smiled at, even though the next two fanboys stood next to the table already. "Is it tasty?"

"Yes." Daryl answered with full mouth, but held stubborn eye contact, soaking the attention up like a bone-dry sponge.

Negan winked at his sub and pinched his chin, before he focused on the waiting fans again.

But the butterflies in Daryl's belly felt a thousand percent better anyway, because five slightly cool fingers wrapped tightly around his hand, underneath the table, where nobody else could see it.

----

After all the bad weather and involuntarily being confined to quarters for most of the evening and night, the passengers of the 2017 Gays and Friends-cruise were now buzzing outside like insects on the first warm day of spring, swarming the pool and fun decks.

Jesus couldn't be happier, and was fully in his element, dancing the Cupid Shuffle in sync with 900 other men on the lido deck. Daryl watched from the sidelines, tapping the beat with the top knuckle of his pinky finger against his thigh. He really wasn't sure how all these people knew the steps and moves just like that without a tutorial. And a small part of him wished he would be that smart as well, so he could be next to Paul. But then he felt ashamed for even considering it, thinking of Merle and how he would roll on the floor, hysterically laughing, seeing his younger brother line dancing on a gay cruise in the middle of the Caribbean sea.

----

After a long dance session right after breakfast, a cone of free vanilla ice cream, and three games of pinball at the arcade, Mister Rovia laughed and cursed, climbing alongside Daryl up the huge outdoor climbing wall.

"Why are you so fast, man!" He slipped off the colorful holds for the third time in a row, still struggling in the middle of the wall, while Daryl was already at the top, not even having a problem to tackle the overhang. "Wait! Tell me your secret!"  

"Th." Daryl grinned, his body pressed as close as possible to the artificial rock, striving for maximal body tension, as he looked down from the highest point of the crooked wall. "You're really bad."

Jesus slipped again, falling with a chuckle into the ropes to dangle safely in his harness, 12 foot above the ground. "Oh crap..."

----

The weather was nice enough to enjoy lunch outside, up on Deck 17, to have some private time, secluded from the fans.

Daryl took three pictures from a real dolphin following the ship, and then opened his mouth when Negan spoon-fed him some fresh paella. It tasted like three different dishes mixed together with something fishy, but that was okay because it came from Negan's plate and was washed down with a big gulp of water from Negan's glass.

"And that's us at the climbing wall." Jesus flipped to the next picture, holding his phone up. "You should have seen him!" He chuckled, shifting a bit on Negan's lap to snuggle closer. "He's like the Amazing Spider-Man!"

"Mhm." Negan smirked at the picture and held boy number two securely by the waist as he leaned closer to Daryl, feeding him more. "Open up." He shoved the food between pale pink lips, caught some falling grains of rice with the spoon and fed them as well. "You wanna do a nap after lunch? Was a long night and I have to work."

Daryl tried not to chew too much, not sure what strange things he just felt in his mouth. He shook his head, because he surely wouldn't stay all alone in the room, while all these fanboys weren't taking silly naps.

"Uuuh, a nap." Jesus batted his eyelashes, nuzzling Negan's cheek. "How about I keep him company."

"How about you help your man packing." Negan found a piece of chicken on his plate and fed it to Daryl, while patting the side of Paul's thigh.

"Thank you." Rick shook his head, frustrated about the third piece of red-oily chorizo sausage landing on this pants.

"'m coming with you." Daryl sniffed his nose and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "'m not tired." His statement sounded gruff and stubborn, because he meant it that way.

Negan gave his sub a scrutinizing look as he fed him more paella and was challenged by defiant blue eyes.

Daryl chewed and swallowed, sniffing his nose again. "Sir." Negan still stared at him, so he pulled a red hanky out of his pocket to wipe his mouth with it and then held it up just in case it wasn't noticed.

Negan rolled his tongue behind his lips, then leaned in very close, taking Daryl's chin in a tight grip, as he changed his voice into a low, serious tone. "You wanna behave at all times, boy. Not just when you want something."

----

Apart from the big 'Good Bye'-party on Deck 15, 'Iron hand in a velvet glove- Dominance at its best', was the last official event of the 2017 Gays and Friends Cruise, before the ship would arrive back at Port Everglades in the afternoon. And more than 2000 people didn't want to miss out on their last chance to see Negan live and in the flesh, so the Royal theater was packed.    

Daryl was up on stage, but didn't see much of the large crowd, since he was supposed to kneel, with his head lowered. At first he was thankful for the fingersnap and strict order, because he really didn't want to look at all the people. But after almost an hour of Negan talking charmingly about things like discipline, obedience and control, to a very attentive audience, Daryl felt a little bit left out. He glanced up through his bangs, when a man from France asked about the correct response, should a bratty sub try to argue.

"See, Patrice. If a sub is rude, talks back, or even raises his voice, no matter the reason, you have to stay in control and assert your authority." Negan casually went up to Daryl and placed a firm hand on top of his head, gently pushing it back down. "While you might think you're displaying a tremendous amount of control by walking away and just not responding in any way, I guarantee you, the sub will perceive it as weakness and backing down, or even worse, he won't feel taken fucking seriously."

The man sitting in first row, seemed confused and got up from his seat. "You mean I should argue with him?"

"No, you absolutely should not. You stand your fucking ground! Why should you leave the scene? You remove him from the situation. Put him into his room. Tell him you are not interested in a fucking conversation until he can respond reasonably. Stay calm, take the wind out of his sails, bare your teeth in a warning. Remind him that he overstepped his fucking bounds and make clear that you are in full control of the situation." Negan went up to the edge of the stage, gesturing with his hand. "He may apologize after that and get a new chance to state his opinion in an appropriate manner."

Daryl shifted on his ankles, immediately feeling the need to behave really well, and then forgot all about it the next second, when another man from the audience got up to speak. He recognized him instantly. Him and his horribly beautiful face.

"Sir." Marc got up with a bright smile as he received the microphone, taking a half bow. "I don't have a question. I just tried to get a hold of you all week and thought I use this opportunity to say hello." His smile grew even wider when the man on stage grinned back at him.

Negan crooked his fingers. "Come on up here then. Greet me properly."

Daryl lost his perfect posture completely, sickness flooding his clenching stomach. He watched how Marc jogged happily past all the other seats, up to the stage, and stood on his tip-toes as he reached for Negan with both arms.

"Hi." Negan bent down, kissed Marc's left cheek and patted his right, under the excited cheers of the whole audience. "I had no idea you're here."

The red handprints on Daryl's hidden skin felt like they were glowing in shame and anger. He hated this stupid ship and all the people on it. He wanted to shout and punch ugly Marc. He didn't understand why Negan would want to kiss and hug him. But then he knew of course very well, when he glanced up again and saw this gorgeous guy, with his perfect hair and flawless face, how he talked in front of everyone and held firm eye contact to the man on stage. Of course he knew. And he remembered the night at the factory, when he saw Marc for the first time, in the playroom, subbing for Negan like a good boy.

He felt his throat get tight and saw his fingers tremble. The big leather armchair in the middle of the stage looked like a perfect hiding place for a moment, but it was too far away. He formed his hand into a fist and just for the split of a second stuck his little finger out, in the privacy behind his back. Before he turned around, not really kneeling anymore, just crouching on the floor, his shoulders hunched, fighting against the need to cover his face. He heard Negan's deep voice, saying his good-byes and thank-yous to the crowd. He heard applause and ecstatic Negan-chants. The ever present 'I love you's' and a thousand different terms to describe Negan's stunning appearance. And he didn't have to turn around to know that ugly pretty Marc was probably holding hands with Negan, certainly kissing his cheek, and most likely received an invitation for later to the suite, or at least to the playroom at the factory. He just knew it and stared at the weird marbled floor of the theater's stage, rubbing it absently with one finger, wishing he was as invisible as he felt.

"Bye folks, thanks for coming! Be good!" Negan waved a last time, gave the microphone to a young lady of the crew, and then turned around to see his sub crouching on the ground, a picture of pure misery. He walked up to him, sighing when Daryl ducked away from his touch. "Up, boy." He snapped his fingers and held a hand out, expecting it to be taken.

Daryl hesitated three seconds, before he reached up for Negan's hand and reluctantly scrambled to his feet. He didn't say anything and tried not to look anywhere as he got dragged off the stage, through a door, along a hallway with blue carpet, through another door, into an almost empty room. It wasn't big, and the only furniture was a small couch and a vanity table with a ton of make-up and a big mirror. He sniffed his nose and wrapped both arms around his chest when Negan let go of his hand and closed the door.

"Here." Negan snapped his fingers, pointing two down and positioned himself in the middle of the room, straightened to his full height, his feet shoulder-width apart.

Daryl pulled his arms a bit tighter around his body, glanced up, and then quickly lowered his eyes when he met Negan's firm stare. A defiant part of his mind didn't want to kneel right now, but his silly body and aching heart wanted it more than anything, and Negan obviously waited for the order to be followed, so he sat down on the floor and after a moment adjusted his position as he was supposed to.

"Good boy." Negan shoved a raisin between his sub's lips and pushed the man's head against his leg, keeping a hand on his hair. "Tell me what it says." He tapped the silver steel band around Daryl's neck with his fingernail, and didn't get an answer for half a minute. Then rough words were mumbled against the fabric of his pants.

"Your property."

"How many boys did I collar."

Scary high numbers popped up in Daryl's head, before he thought it over and remembered the facts. He shrugged anyway, afraid that his answer could be wrong somehow, as he mumbled a small, 'Jus' me.' into Negan's pants.

"Right. Daryl is my boy. Marc is not." Negan combed his fingers through long strands of hair. "Tell me what he is for me."

Daryl moved a bit closer to Negan's leg, closing his eyes as he breathed warm air into rough denim. He didn't want to answer, hating everything about the image of pretty Marc in the playroom. He wanted to punch his perfect nose. Together with Jesus. Then that ugly beautiful slut would surely never come back.  

"One." Negan's tone was strict but not angry. "He is my playpartner. He was one of many before I met you. Will I play again with him one day?"

"Yes." Hot pressure clenched Daryl's throat. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to work at the Eagle, cleaning tables and washing beer glasses, while the pretty-faced slut was allowed to kneel for Negan in the playroom. It made him dizzy and sick to the bones.

"Would it hurt you if I did?" Negan didn't get a spoken answer, just a very faint nod, but the small confession was enough for him to feed another raisin, garnished with praising words. "Good job, Daryl. Telling me the truth, right?" He looked down, watching ten fingers claw into his trouser leg and let it happen. "You also wanna remember that I don't fucking hurt what's mine. You wear my collar for a reason. It says you are mine. It reminds you to focus on me and is a promise that you are under my protection. It reminds you to fucking trust me that I won't hurt you." He reached down to grasp Daryl's chin, making him look up. "And why would I have any desire to play with others as long as I have a gorgeous puppy by my feet."

Daryl avoided his eyes, pretty sure he was made fun of. "He's an actor." His tone sounded almost reproachful.

Negan squinted. "How do you know."

Daryl shrugged, sniffing his nose, and huffed a breath when his cheek was slapped lightly.

"How do you know Marc is an actor."

"The other dad said it." Daryl wanted to hide his face again in Negan's trouser leg, and was granted permission, a comforting hand stroking the back of his head.

"Rick told you?"

Daryl shook his head. "No."

Negan's face hardened noticeably. "When did you talk to Shane."

Daryl shrugged, digging his nose into rough pants. "At work someday."

"He took the photo that day?"

Tiny, hot bubbles soared up in Daryl's chest as he remembered the horrible picture in his phone. "Yes."

The answer sounded so abased, that Negan had already a clear image in his head about the underlying problem here. "Why did you talk about Marc."

Daryl listened to the steady thrum of the ship's engines, thankful that he was allowed to take longer than a minute to reply. "'m not in your team."

"Mhm." Negan ran his fingers through longish hair. "And what team is that, puppy."

Daryl exhaled, scratching two of his nails along the seam of grey denims. "Pretty people."

Negan tipped his sub's chin up. "I'm out of your league? Is that what Shane told you?" He didn't insist on a spoken answer, accepting the silent confirmation he saw in blue eyes. He tilted Daryl's head a bit higher up. "It is bullshit. Even fresh from the streets you fucking outdid them all. You are here, they are not. If anything, you set new standards with your fucking gorgeous face." He cocked an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk. "Right?" He tapped Daryl's temple with one finger. "You are fucking smart. You know the truth. The only other member in fucking team Negan is you."

Three butterflies in Daryl's belly felt all warm and fluttered around in pure happiness. It made his cheeks glow and eyes shine.

Negan liked it. He brushed a pale ear with his fingertips. "Silly puppy. Now you bring Rick the stuff he forgot in our room. Then you wanna join me on the sun deck for some cuddles before we arrive at port."

----

Cabin 14644 on Deck 14 was just across the hall, and still Daryl was gone for more than twenty minutes already, clutching a stained t-shirt and some documents to his chest in front of Rick's room. He didn't dare to go in, or knock. The possibility of just leaving the things by the door crossed Daryl's mind, but Negan had given him strict instructions to hand them over personally. So he stayed close to the door, pretending not to hear the heated discussion from behind.

"So you don't wanna visit him?" Rick's voice was loud and full of disbelief.

"I don't know!"  Jesus almost screeched, clearly emotional after arguing for more than twenty minutes now. "He hurt Eugene! He almost hurt Negan! He didn't give a damn about-"

Rick cut him off, raising his voice even more. "HE WASN'T HIMSELF! HE IS SICK! DON'T BE UNFAIR, PAUL!"

Jesus huffed a sad laugh, hurt and defeated. "You know what?" He put his headphones on, turning his back to Rick. "I don't wanna talk about this anymore."

Daryl jumped startled when the door opened and the Cowboy-boots-guy stepped out, giving him first a confused look, then grumbled an angry 'Hi' and stormed off. Daryl watched him walk away, wanting to say something, but in the end just turned around and entered the room.

Paul stared out of the balcony door. Loud, aggressive music blaring from his headphones to tune real life out.   

Daryl put his delivery onto the bed and hesitantly stepped closer. He was pretty sure that Jesus wanted to be alone, but he tapped his arm anyway. "You can come to our room." It was a quiet, rough offer, unheard thanks to the impressive low baritone of Mister Di’Anno.

A slow smile formed on Paul's face, leaving his blue eyes unaffected. He switched the Iron Maiden classic off and turned around, seeming thankful for the person he saw.

Daryl sniffed his nose, not knowing what to say, and then flinched back with a grunt, when a pair of well worn Beats was put on his head.

Jesus smiled. "Top Gun. You know that movie?" He pushed a button on his iPod, looking Daryl in the eyes as his most favorite, extra corny, making-out song started.

Daryl blinked through his longish bangs and then flicked them aside, feeling shy and a little uneasy with the situation. He knew the song, and he knew it was for girls-in-love, because Merle had almost ripped the button of the stereo off when the song played on the radio on their road trip to Columbus one day. But somehow it sounded nice now, and Merle wasn't there.

Paul was. And he stepped closer and dug his face into the warm spot between Daryl's neck and shoulder.

Daryl thought it was nice, and then closed his eyes, when soft lips kissed the left side of his neck, while gentle fingers brushed the right side, sliding underneath his hair, below his covered ear, and eventually cupped the side of his face.

"You smell so good." Jesus snaked an arm around Daryl's waist, stroking the small of his back, as he raised up in search for pale pink lips, kissing them sensually in tune to the slow music. He moaned quietly, pressing their bodies together when Daryl opened his mouth to let him in and participate in the kiss.

Daryl exhaled a soundless breath, brushing their tongues together, light and slow. He tilted his head and really wanted to touch Paul's hair, but needed eight more seconds before he found the courage. It felt soft and his fingers entangled inextricably with it all on their own. He made another step closer, groaning when the kiss deepened and hot tingles bubbled all through his belly as he walked Paul into the cool pane of the balcony door. He knew what the sudden pulsing sensation in his butt meant and his hips reacted instinctively, moving slightly. The song was over and started again in the same second, making him feel disappointed and relieved in a seamless changeover. He brought his second hand up to hold Paul's head in place, growing bolder in his actions, along with the driving need nudging in his chest.  

Jesus moaned, sliding his fingertips beneath the waistband of Daryl's jeans and underwear, touching the bare skin of his buttocks. He spread his legs a little, creating better access and more friction as his middle was humped. He felt his heart race in his chest, his blood boil, and his dick harden, and he loved everything about it, enjoying Daryl's initiative to the fullest. And again he wanted to do much more, his mind drifting off to a scenario where they both were naked and lying in bed, Daryl writhing underneath him, while he was deeply buried in the most perfect hole he had ever seen. The thought alone made him groan and he dug his fingernails deeply into Daryl's butt cheek, as he pulled back from the kiss, panting with lust. He smiled faintly, gazing at Daryl's close face. Blushed cheeks, pink lips, dark blond lashes sweeping upward lazily, blue eyes clouded with need. He cursed at the sight and reached out to slide the headphones off the man's ears, making them hang around his neck. "You are so hot." He cupped Daryl's face, kissing his lips again. "I want you so bad."

Daryl kissed back, nodding. Then wasn't so sure anymore and shrugged with one shoulder, images of tall, safe Negan going through his head, holding him with strong, firm hands, while covering all of him like a secure blanket.

Jesus noticed the sudden tension and nuzzled Daryl's cheek. "We should beg him for a snugly threesome." He sniffed warm skin and kissed the corner of a damp mouth. "Like he is holding you and spreads you open for me." He swiped his tongue between Daryl's lips in response to the small moan he heard. "He could lick your collar and tell you how pretty you look while I fuck you."

A smile flickered over Daryl's face, accompanied by a hoarse chuckle. He had to admit that Jesus had a good plan. "Yeah, right."

Paul chuckled as well, touching their foreheads together, while he combed his fingers through the long strands at the back of Daryl's head. "Come on, that's a great idea."  

Both jumped when a firm hand banged against the door frame. "Tuck your dicks back into your panties, boys! Finish packing and fucking meet me on the sun deck! Chop chop."

----

Daryl sniffed his nose, glancing back over his shoulder when a crew member dropped a tray with two cocktails, cursing.

Negan didn't look up from his screen. "Eyes on the fucking horizon I said!" He had put his sub into a semi time-out, making him stand at the railing in a more quiet area of the sun deck, after he was denied an answer for the third time that day. "Three minutes left. Can you see the land already?" Normally a time-out didn't include any form of attention, but Daryl was still in the aftermath of his first impact play and more sensitive than usual, so Negan relaxed the rules a little.

"Yes." It was a blurry dark line at the horizon, giving the infinite turquoise mass of water a sudden end. Daryl liked it very much. Just a few more hours and they would be back in Atlanta.

"Mhm." Negan saved his work, closed his notebook and took his sunglasses off, enjoying the view at his boy's backside. Daryl's posture was spot on and the pair of pants he wore hugged his delicious butt just in the right way. "Are you happy that we're going back home?" He didn't have to see Daryl's face to know that it lit up with a small smile.

"Yes."

"Yes? Should I invite you to my bed tonight?"

Daryl wanted to turn around to see Negan, and lost his perfect posture for a second. "Yes." His answer sounded shy and hopeful, and got upgraded with a humble, "Please." because he really wanted to be invited.        

"Nice answer, Daryl." Negan tilted his head to the side, liking the soft breeze moving the tips of Daryl's long strands on the exposed skin of his neck and a part of his shoulders, where the wide collar of his shirt allowed a glance at freckles and a nice tan. "You want to put all your new treasures under my pillow?" He got up from his lounge chair, slowly closing the distance between him and his boy, standing close behind him. "And then I read for you out of your brother's book?"

"Hm." Daryl felt warm breath at the back of his neck and pulled his shoulders up before he leaned back against the tall body behind him. He really wanted to do all of that. "Okay."

"Mhm." Negan wrapped his arms around Daryl's body, nuzzling a collared neck. "That's not what you wanna say, though."

Warmth and relief spread through Daryl's chest, happy that the time-out was over. "'m sorry for not speaking."

The corner of Negan's mouth curved up. "You're forgiven, boy." He kissed Daryl's shoulder, the thin fabric of his shirt feeling warm against his lips. "You also wanna go and use your pretty bracelet a last time and get me something nice to drink." He patted a firm butt and sat back down in his chair, putting his shades back on. "Mojito. Fresh mint. Honey, no raffinated sugar."

----

The Sand Bar on the sun deck was crowded. Everyone wanted to milk the 'All inclusive' advantage for a last time before arriving back at port. Daryl stood there for more than 15 minutes, being shoved around by other passengers. Twice he had fought his way to the counter, but as he made an attempt to speak up and order something, somebody else was interrupting him. And the third time he tried, and actually got a full 'A mojito with honey and fresh mint' out, the bartender simply told him that it wasn't his turn.

Daryl felt his face blush, heat spreading all over his ears and cheeks. He was sure everyone stared at him, judging him and his stupidity.

"Hey, Felipe." A man with smooth voice and classy appearance leaned over the bar counter, waving for the guy working behind. "A mojito with fresh mint and honey." The barkeeper smiled and went to work immediately, drowning all the other guests out because he had a thing for Daddy-types. "Rude men and an open bar. Bad combination." The stranger held his hand out towards the shy young man with tousled hair and abashed expression. "Hi, I'm Lance."

Daryl sniffed his nose, glancing defiantly through his longish bangs. But after a moment of hesitation took the offered hand for a brief, kind of clumsy handshake. "Daryl."

"Well, Daryl," Lance swiped the silicone bracelet that was attached to his wrist over the reading device on the counter. "Allow me to invite you to an already free drink." He chuckled charmingly and took the perfectly decorated mojito the barkeeper presented. He held it out for Daryl to take. "There you go."

----

Negan took his sunglasses off, making his way over the crowded sundeck, 58 minutes after he had sent Daryl for a drink. He knew his sub needed a bit extra time for certain tasks sometimes, but this time he reached new limits. Deck 15 had three bars and Daryl wasn't at any of them. He also wasn't at the ice cream station, he wasn't drowning in the pool, he wasn't hiding at the safe sidelines from the staff trying to get the passengers to dance the Wobble. He seemed to be gone.

Negan sighed, running a hand through his slicked back hair, and then squinted in disbelief, when he spotted an attractive guy in his mid-fifties, smiling and sharing a smoke with Daryl Dixon, right next to the hot dog snack booth. "Little shit." He went up to the merry couple, tilting his head to the side with a cold little grin, not amused at all that it took almost twenty seconds until his boy noticed that he was there.

Daryl blinked through his long bangs, automatically moving half a step backwards, when a tall angry man suddenly stood right in front of him. "Hello." He took the cigarette out of his mouth, held the icy stare for a short moment, then glanced down at the lukewarm drink he was holding.

"You know each other?" Lance didn't lose his relaxed posture, gesturing with his cigarette back and forth between Daryl and the handsome stranger, before he took a second glance. "Hey wait, you are Negan, right?" He took the cigarette into his other hand, holding one out. "Hi I'm Lance, nice to meet you."

"Mhm." Negan gave the guy a blank look, demonstratively shoving his right hand into the tight pocket of his jeans instead of accepting the handshake. "Thanks for entertaining my boy for a fucking hour. Seems you had a great time."

Lance tried his best to hold the firm stare he was given, but then broke it with a chuckle, tapping the ash off his cigarette onto the polished wooden deck. "Message received." He touched Daryl's arm, "Was nice to meet you, Daryl." and walked off without a glance back.

Daryl's eyes flickered nervously underneath his longish hair, not sure what to do. He took the cigarette up with slightly trembling fingers for another drag and then almost dropped it when Negan barked right into his face from closest distance.

"ARE YOU FUCKING ALLOWED TO GET LUNG CANCER!"

Daryl looked down, glaring at his own feet. "'m not getting cancer." He mumbled his answer, feeling a little angry, not sure how he had ended up in this situation.

"Oh, you discovered a new brand then, that won't make your lungs rot and have you die a horrible death from suffocation!" Negan held his hand out. "I guess you should share your new hobby with me then, right? Don't keep all the fun for yourself." When Daryl didn't hand the cigarette over on his own, Negan snagged it out of his fingers and took a long drag, inhaling deeply.

Daryl watched in horror how Negan's chest rose, his lungs filling with smoke, before a big cloud came out between his perfect lips as he exhaled soundly, a casual smile on his face.

"So," Negan took another deep drag, keeping the smoke impossibly long in, then let it out in a leisurely manner, blowing it to the side. "Tell me about your new friend. Will you see him again?"

"No." Daryl shook his head, pictures of a heavily coughing Negan, lying weakly in a hospital bed, crossing his mind.

Negan chuckled, holding the cigarette half an inch in front of his lips, cocking his brows at Daryl. "No? You didn't find him hot?" He took a third drag, grinning as he blew the smoke out through his nostrils.

"No!" Daryl scowled. He wanted to slap that nasty death-causing cigarette out of Negan's fingers and throw it into the ocean. But he didn't, and instead watched as Negan sucked more thick smoke into his lungs, tiny ash pieces floating through the air when he flicked the filter.

"Mhm." Negan inhaled deeply, letting the smoke seep into his cells, before he exhaled, making an effort to turn his head and not blow it at his sub's face. "Fucking grumpy puppy." His face grew more serious, as well as his tone. "You wanna tell me why you rather spend your time with a complete stranger, fucking damaging your lungs, instead of serving me a drink as I asked you to."

Daryl wrinkled his nose and lowered his gaze, listening as Negan inhaled again, drawing more poisonous smoke into his body. He didn't know why he had ended up with Lance and didn't know what to say. He just wanted to apologize and for Negan not to get cancer. "Please can you stop." It was a quietly mumbled request, sounding more gruff and rude than polite, but Negan acknowledged it anyway.

He stepped closer and tilted Daryl's chin up, holding eye contact as he inhaled slowly. He removed the cigarette from his mouth and leaned in for a kiss. His tongue darted out to lick pale pink lips and briefly dip in between, gentle and lovingly, before he pulled back and carefully blew the smoke in the air, past his sub's head. "I don't want you to smoke. I want you around for a very long time." His words weren't threatening or angry, but calm and serious, spoken in low voice. He took the cigarette by the filter and handed it back, instead taking the glass out of Daryl's hand. "And next time you want to hang out with somebody while I'm fucking waiting for you, you have the decency to inform me about your plans, so I don't sit around and worry my ass off. Right?"

Daryl nodded, feeling bad and guilty. He leaned his forehead against Negan's collarbone, inhaling the familiar scent of his shirt and skin. "'m sorry."

"I know." Negan rested his chin on the top of Daryl's head, rubbing the man's back with two fingers. "Time to go home. You wanna give Tiger your puppy stick and visit Merle."

Daryl nodded again, digging his nose into a soft shirt. "Yes." He wanted that more than anything.

Negan planted a kiss on tousled hair. "Then go stub that fucking cigarette out and help Paul to move all the luggage to the conference center. We have a plane to catch."

----

By the time the majestic cruise ship arrived back at Port Everglades, the passengers were asked to vacate their rooms and prepare for disembarkation. In less than an hour the countless stairwells, lounges, and open decks became a vast waiting room for more than 5000 gay men and their collective carry-on bags — each one anxiously waiting for their colors and numbers to be called, for the permission to leave their floating party location and head back home to their normal lives.

Luckily the cruise line offered a customer friendly VIP disembarkation service to guide the suite guests stress-free past the crowds. Negan and his personal guests were the first called to disembark, shortly after the vessel had received customs clearance. There was a porter onboard and ashore to assist with the luggage, and a young crew member even offered to snap a last group souvenir photo on the pier with the ship in the background. It was a nice photo, even though Mister Grimes had a huge strawberry jam stain on his denim shirt, and Daryl didn't look into the camera, but up and back over his shoulder to see the cruise ship.

Negan saved it in his favorites folder anyway and then slapped Paul's head when he named an especially vicious seagull 'Negnon' and fed it a piece of gluten free cracker.

Daryl napped in the taxi on the way to the airport and felt strangely overwhelmed and clingy as they boarded the plane. He didn't want to watch Youtube videos with Jesus and wasn't really hungry when the flight attendant served sesame chicken with apple kimchi, black rice, and ginger mousse. Negan fed him half of it anyway and two raisins afterwards, for especially good table manners and reporting earaches.  

Simon waited on the airport parking lot in Atlanta, giving everyone a hearty pat on the back and a wet, hairy smooch on the mouth as a welcome gift. Daryl thought he smelled like a Tequila bottle and aftershave, and wiped his face with the sleeve of Negan's too big shirt as he climbed on the backseat of a wonderful shiny Tahoe.

The ride home was long, with a traffic jam and a detour through the nicer parts of the city, where the Grimes-Walsh family lived.

Negan didn't say anything when his boys kissed goodbye for almost a minute, even if he thought it was the most cheesy farewell since Rhett and fucking Scarlett. He pecked Rick on the lips, telling him to call in the evening.

Rick didn't comment on the small order, but nodded and watched after the black car, feeling a bit lost.

Alone on the backseat for the rest of the way, Daryl held the piece of dry driftwood he had found somewhere in another world, and his small cruise ship model, looking at it from all sides. It was strange to know that he would probably never be back to see it, and he hoped that he would remember forever what it looked like from the inside, and the sound of the small waves that the ship produced when it carved the still water. Or Orhan, the dolphin, and doing fun things with Jesus. He felt a little bit sad.

"Ksst."

The familiar noise made him look up, noticing that they had stopped at red lights, and met Negan's gaze in the rearview mirror. He couldn't see his full face but knew that he smiled, because the corners of his eyes crinkled. It made him smile back and the butterflies in his belly feel warm and special.

Seeing the factory again for the first time through the car window felt wonderful. Parking in front of the loading docks had Daryl's stomach tickle. He unbuckled his seat belt the moment the engine was turned off, and he opened the door a second later, very eager to unload the trunk and carry all the luggage upstairs.  

"Come." He stopped half way on the stairs, not sure why Negan had to talk to Simon so much.

Negan looked up, still standing at the bottom the stairs. He smirked, liking Daryl's happiness to be back home. "Go wait upstairs, I'm there in a minute." His request was answered with a sigh in deep annoyance. "Make that five minutes. Ten if you fucking sigh at me again."

----

"Oh my God, a storm at sea? I would have slept in my lifejacket!"

Daryl usually didn't talk much to Olivia, but since she had made him such an awesome stew with beef and carrots and wanted to know everything about the horrible big waves, he decided to share some of his experiences. "Hm. We had 'em in bed." He shoveled another spoon full into his mouth, gulping the food down like he had been starving for the past week.

"Oh, that was clever." Olivia put another scoop of stew on the criminal's plate and handed him more bread. She was so glad that everyone was back safely. "I bet the waves were high enough to capsize the ship." She had seen a report about monster waves on discovery channel.

"Hm." Daryl nodded, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "30 foot." At least.

"No they fucking weren't." Negan came out of the bedroom, heading straight towards the dining table, poking a finger between Daryl's shoulder blades to make him sit straight. "Olivia, stop cramming the boy and bring me the mail."  

"Of course, Sir." Olivia got up instantly, adjusting her glasses as she vanished to bring her boss all the letters she had collected.

"You wanna eat up and unpack the bags." Negan tickled the back of Daryl's collared neck, then squeezed it in a warning. "And remember how I want you to eat."

"Hm." Daryl nodded, putting just one piece of meat into his mouth and chewed it ten times, then wiped his mouth with his red cloth.

"Good boy." Negan leaned down to nuzzle a pale ear. "That's much better."

----

At ten in the evening, on the factory's top floor, in the very spacious living room, Negan sat on the couch, speaking to Rick on the phone. "No. The puppies play fetch."

Daryl crouched on the floor, wearing nothing but underwear to his steel collar and a happy blush on his cheeks. He chuckled, throwing the piece of driftwood for the 30th time, so Tiger could bring it back. And then looked up, smiling shyly when Negan patted his thigh and beckoned him over. He wanted to get up, but Negan wagged a finger 'No', so he stayed on the ground and crawled on all fours through the room.

"You will be alone at the store on Monday. I'm having an appointment with the boy." Negan spread his legs for Daryl to kneel between, combing his fingers through longish hair. It was still damp from the shower they had shared. "No. We will visit a friend."

Daryl's stomach flipped in joy, knowing that the friend was Merle. He leaned in close and kissed Negan's bare stomach, right above the waistband of his tight underwear. The fine dark hair tickled his lips, and he kissed again, enjoying the smell of clean skin and washing powder.

"I don't know." Negan fondled the back of Daryl's head, encouraging the affection. "In the afternoon, I guess." He felt nervous breath being exhaled against his skin and spread his knees a little wider when soft lips found the courage to move deeper.

Daryl glanced up through his tousled bangs, searching for permission before he planted open mouthed kisses along the outline of Negan's hidden cock. It twitched against his lips, making his heart speed up and heat spread through his chest.  

"Well, I'm sure you'll manage that just fine." Negan leaned into the backrest of the couch, stroking all of Daryl's hair to one side for a better view. "Paul can help with that."

Daryl caressed Negan's bulge with his face, digging his nose into the man's groin, leaving small wet blotches on tight underwear as he licked and nipped at random spots, and then moved to kiss bare inner thighs. A proud feeling bubbling in his stomach, when Negan's voice changed into a lower tone, obviously affected by the things he did with his mouth.

"Well then call him. Let him work for a few days and see how it goes." Negan groaned, feeling a wet, silky tongue lapping the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, drawing a warm path to his groin and back again, lips sucking his flesh up to an almost painful point, intending to leave a mark. "No, I'm not." He chuckled into the phone, caressing the side of Daryl's face with his fingertips, "Boy is naughty."

Daryl pulled back slightly, observing the glistening skin and bluish spot he had created, then licked it, reaching down between his own thighs because his penis throbbed in need for attention. He squeezed it and rubbed himself, nuzzling Negan's balls and hard cock through the underwear, soaking the thin fabric with warm spit. He moaned, trying to suck the swollen head through its wet cover, and then flinched when his chin was grasped in a tight grip, his head being pulled up.

"Hold on." Negan held his phone away from his ear, giving his sub a stern look. "Did I give you permission to fucking touch yourself?"

Daryl raised his left shoulder, trying to rub it against his ear, but the strong fingers holding his chin prevented it. He exhaled soundless, putting his arms behind his back. "No."

"Damn right I didn't." Negan released him, "Show me how I want you to kneel." watching as Daryl straightened his back and shoulders, his knees spread wide for a nice view. "Better." He reached down, sliding his sub's underwear down, exposing a hard cock. "You wanna kneel like a good boy and present that pretty dick for me while I'm finishing my call. If you behave you may sit on my lap afterwards. Right?"

Daryl flicked his head to get a longish strand out of his eyes. "Right."

Negan held the firm look a moment longer, then leaned back again and spoke into his phone. "Where were we." He listened to his employee talking about the need for an intern, while fondling himself through his tight briefs, before he freed his erection, casually stroking his length. "No, I like the idea. Call him." The slightly husky tone of his voice made clear that he was doing more than just holding a conversation about business, and he loved the little pause Rick made at the other end of the line when he noticed it. "See what he's capable of, but my word is final. Remember that."

Daryl shifted on his ankles, his butt throbbing as he watched Negan pleasure himself right in front of his eyes. He licked his lips, wanting to say something and ask for permission to come closer again, but when he looked at Negan's face he didn't dare. There was no smile on his lips, only the hot intensity of his gaze that made clear who's in charge and whose pleasure this was about.    

"Mhm." Negan stroked himself lazily, letting his eyes roam over his sub's almost naked body, prettily flushed in specific spots, lips parted slightly, blue eyes needy and submissive as he liked them best. "True. You wanna tell me goodnight now, Rick. Go play with my other boy while I'm enjoying some laptime with the puppy." The immediate change in Rick's voice and attitude pleased him. There wasn't a sign of jealousy or anger, no backtalking or snarky remark, just honest gratitude and devotion. He made a mental note to buy an English muffin first thing Monday morning. "Thank you so much." He meant it and made sure his tone was accordingly. "I see you tomorrow. Be good."  

Daryl's stomach tingled in anticipation as the phone was thrown somewhere on the couch and all attention was on him. He sniffed his nose, watching five strong fingers sliding up and down the most perfect penis in the world. "Can I now." His question sounded rough and was shy and quiet, but Negan didn't seem to mind.

"May you sit on my lap now? Should I put my dick up your gorgeous hole?"

"Yes." Daryl nodded, then briefly avoided his eyes. "Please."

"Good job." Negan stroked himself three more times, then took his hand off, resting his arms left and right at his sides. "Come here then polite puppy. Make me feel good."

----

It was late, the room dark except for the dim city lights coming through the huge factory windows. Soft moans and intimate noises filled the shadowed place.

Negan's eyes fixed on his sub's ecstatic face, shy and insecure, but incredibly beautiful, as he lowered him down once more on his hard cock, both hands securely holding him by the hips, guiding each thrust and movement. "Fucking pretty boy, look at you."

Daryl whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut, overwhelmed by the depth of penetration and the feeling of complete fullness. Firmly pulled down like this, there was no space left between their bodies, they were connected in the most intimate way, that made his heart ache and breath hitch. Arching his back, he raised himself up and slowly slid down again, sobbing with the sensations exploding inside him as his prostate was stimulated on point. He repeated it, moaning loudly, a shudder going through his body and he let his head fall forward, hiding his face against a broad shoulder.

Negan let him. "Yeah. Fucking yourself on my dick, isn't that right, sweetheart." He started rocking his hips in a steady pace, thrusting upwards, making his sub groan and tremble. "Does that feel so nice? Tell me, puppy."

"Yes." Daryl nodded and wrapped his arms around Negan's neck, needing something to hold on to. He clenched his inner muscles, grinding his ass down even more and then froze with the distinct feeling of his orgasm slowly unwinding like a hot, coiled snake in his lower abdomen. He held his breath, trying not to move.

"Good boy." Negan took a firmer hold of Daryl's hips, keeping completely still for a moment. "Are you trying not to cum?" He didn't get an answer, except for heavy panting against his neck, and swatted a firm ass cheek, hard.

"Yes." Daryl gasped, the hot sting spreading over his skin, making his inner muscles pulse, as he remembered the pretty red handprints and weals on his backside. They were even better than written black letters on his forearm.  

"Mhm." Negan circled his hips slightly, sending current impulses through Daryl's lower body. He licked the shell of a pale ear. "You wanna sit up. Show me your pretty face."

Daryl needed a moment to find his upright position, feeling exposed and dizzy, his skin sweaty and his blood pumping wildly. The friction was too much and intense, and he tried to shift his hips, but couldn't, Negan's hold too tight.

"Eyes on me, boy. You want me to cum?" Negan began to lift and lower Daryl, slowly thrusting his hips. "Hm, tell me. You want me to shoot my load up your sweet hole?"

Daryl confirmed it in his mind several seconds before his head actually nodded and a small, panted 'Yes' came out of his mouth. The feeling of being moved around, handled by someone else, made him feel safe on a complete new level.

"Yeah?" Negan's breath came heavy, the impossible tightness of his boy's ass tugging his dick. "You wanna cum as well, horny puppy? Make your puddle right here on my chest?"

Daryl stared into glinting dark eyes, nodding frantically, breathing out his pleading answer, almost soundless. "Yes." A hard slap on his upper thigh made him improve his words. "Yes Sir." It wasn't louder than the first one, but far more desperate.

Negan nodded, his face contorted in lust and pleasure. "Then do it." He loosened his strong grip on Daryl's hips, leaning back. "Go on, boy. Cum for me." His voice hoarse and dark, but gently encouraging at the same time. He reveled in the feeling of his near climax, loved the dedicative expression on Daryl's face as he stared at him, like he was something really amazing that deserved all his attention and devotion.  

Daryl groaned, needing release so much. He put his hands flat on a broad chest, clenched his muscles around Negan, feeling him thicken and lengthen impossibly deep inside him, rocked his hips in pure desperation, and was finally pulled in savagely for a ravishing kiss. Messy, wet and open mouthed, muffling his sobs and whimpers as his orgasm exploded in the depths of his abdomen.

Negan cursed into the innocent silkiness of Daryl's mouth, wrapping his fingers painfully tight into long strands of hair, grunting, bucking his hips, rough and primal, forcefully pressing another inch deeper, as he coated his sub's contracting inner walls with thick spurts of cum, muttering obscene, filthy things.

Daryl noticed teeth scraping his lips and biting his tongue, his hair being pulled roughly, fingers digging painfully deep into his flesh, arms holding him too tightly, while a deep voice called him indecent names...

...and it made him melt and surrender, the butterflies in his cotton candy filled belly expressing their happiness and gratitude.

----

Long after midnight, Daryl was squished into the cool surface of a big leather couch, lying on his back, covered by a tall man with large reckless hands, who had just grabbed him and re-positioned him to his liking, pinning him possessively in place.    

"I might just keep you here all night and fuck you until fucking sunrise." Negan bit the corner of Daryl's mouth, wiping sweaty hair out of a pale forehead.

Daryl blinked up at Negan's close face, having difficulties to breathe underneath the man's heavy body. He wished they could stay like this forever. "Okay." He really wanted to be kept and fucked like this all night. And then for the rest of his life.

Negan chuckled deep in his throat, brushing his nose over Daryl's cheek. "Fucking slutty puppy. Wouldn't you just love that."

"Yes." Daryl nodded, meaning it with all of his heart. "Please."

Negan stared down at his sub in the half dark, studying his honest, trustful face, loving everything he saw. "Spread your legs." It was a gentle order in low voice, emphasized by rolling hips, and followed immediately.

... because there wasn't a damn fucking reason that Negan could think of, why he shouldn't fuck his boy, again, all night, until sunrise, or even longer.

Chapter Text

"Oh my God, I'm sorry! I will- I go... Sorry." Olivia didn't know what to do first. Cover her eyes, destroy her glasses, or run back out and hide behind the dumpsters, when she discovered her boss and the young criminal in unmistakable pose on the couch in the living room. Stark naked, in broad daylight.

Negan lifted his head two inches, hearing annoying female screeches, and let it fall back down with a groan, instantly remembering two very good reasons why it wasn't the best idea to fuck all night. Number one: The fucking day still started at the same fucking time. And number two just ran back down the fucking stairs, probably traumatized for a lifetime.

As a third reason would probably count a comatose submissive, sleeping so deep, he wouldn't hear a rocket launch right next to his sweet, pale ear.

"Boy." Negan nuzzled the side of Daryl's face and then slap-patted his cheek. "You wanna wake up. It's time to visit your brother."

Daryl grunted after 11 seconds, mumbled something that sounded like 'Leave me alone', wriggled his nose and shoved the evil hand off his face, unsuccessfully trying to turn onto his side underneath the heavy body covering him.

Negan arched his brows, watching the blunt dismissal in disbelief, then shook his head, chuckling without any real amusement. "Yeah right." He moved off the couch, snapping his fingers harshly above Daryl's face. "Get the fuck up, boy."

Daryl flinched at the noise, pulling his arms around his naked body as he blinked his eyes open. He wasn't on the ship, and a tall, naked man was towering over him, looking kind of pissed. "Hm?"

Negan gave him a blank look.

Daryl sniffed his nose, rubbing his shoulder. "'gmornin."

"Mhm." The sheepish greeting softened Negan's mood a little. "Found your manners?"

Daryl nodded. Negan was really very tall and naked. "Hm."

Negan arched his brows once more, waiting a moment, and then raised one finger with a single nod. "What happens at two."

Daryl tugged his earlobe. "Time out."

"Right. Make sure to speak when you're spoken to." The reminder was given in calm voice, all anger and strictness gone. "Now get up. You may serve me in the bathroom before we leave."

----

It was nothing that he would ever confess to his brother, but kneeling naked on a thick, soft bath mat in front of the shower, holding a warm towel on his knees, was one of the new favorite things in Daryl's life. The air was warm and steamy, smelling like soap and shampoo, and the only sound he could hear was the splashing of water on grey tiles and a naked body. It was nice and calming, and not difficult at all to focus on his task.

Negan had his back to the foggy shower door, his head tipped back, letting the water spray his face. Water beaded on his biceps, as he ran his fingers through dark, wet hair, rinsing the shampoo out. White soap suds flowed down his back, between the perfect roundings of firm butt cheeks, and further down over muscular thighs, the black hair on his long legs plastered against his skin.

Daryl wanted to take a picture with his phone and send it to Jesus, but then didn't because he was too shy.

The water was turned off and a gust of damp heat enveloped his bare skin, when the shower door opened.

Daryl knew that he was supposed to hand the towel over, or get up and dry Negan off. But his first reaction was to bashfully lower his gaze, confronted with a completely nude, dripping wet body.

Negan didn't mind, loving his sub's glowing face, caused by steamy heat and innocent embarrassment. He brushed a strand out of Daryl's forehead, leaving a wet trail with his fingers. "Did you hold the towel for me?"

Daryl nodded, staring at bare feet. "Yes."

"That's so nice of you. You wanna dry me off?"

"Yes." Daryl wanted to before someone else did it, but needed a moment to gain enough courage to get up and actually start on his task. He sniffed his nose, unfolded the big towel a bit awkwardly and wiped it over Negan's wet upper arm, staring at a pretty mix of little freckles and water drops.

"You wanna rub real good, puppy. Get my blood flowing."

Daryl glanced up, unsure, and then increased the pressure noticeably, rubbing until he saw red skin.

Negan groaned, making his pleasure known. "Much better. Needs to be hot. Right?"

"Hm." Daryl smiled faintly, proud that he did so well. He continued on Negan's back, making the skin there glow nicely. "I like that too." His statement was quiet and kind of gruff, but it was the truth. Rubbing a rough towel over his skin had always felt especially nice.

"Oh yes? Should I make you wet, so I can dry you off as well?" Negan heard a huffed chuckle and mumbled 'No', and turned around, instantly pulling the naked man into a strong embrace, sharing the water on his skin generously. "Mhm. Too late."

Daryl exhaled startled, feeling bare genitals and a hairy chest against his body.

"Are you all wet now?" Negan slid his hands down onto a warm, round bottom and pulled Daryl in hard, providing a tight, full body hug.

Daryl nodded against a wet shoulder, dropping the towel. "Yes." He wrapped his arms around Negan's waist, wishing they could go back on the black couch.

"Mhm." Negan bent down, brushing his wet beard against Daryl's cheek. He felt the man's dick harden and twitch against his thigh. "You are also still horny after being fucked all night."

Daryl nodded again, bravely touching the very top of Negan's firm butt cheeks with his fingertips. They were slick with water. "Can we downstairs."

"May you go to the playroom with me?" Negan circled his pelvis against his sub's middle, kneading his ass. "Not today. We don't have time. Your brother is waiting and later you wanna go swimming, right?"

The second part didn't sound good at all, and Daryl first sniffed his nose, then dug it below Negan's jawbone, where it was wet and smelled good. "Hm." He rather wanted to stay at the factory or work at the Eagle.

Negan smacked a bare ass, hard, making Daryl flinch and cling tighter to him. "You want a fucking time-out before breakfast?"

Daryl shook his head, "No." then gasped, flinching again when the same spot was swatted a second time. "No, Sir." He hid his face against Negan's shoulder, his body temperature increasing along with his heart rate.

"You don't wanna go swimming with me?" Negan teased the sore skin with his fingernails, then rubbed the sting out with flat hand. "I thought you want to learn it."  

Daryl closed his eyes, loving the mixture of pleasure and slight burning pain spreading over his skin. "'s it with holding breath." He hoped not.

"It sure is." Negan pulled back, looking his sub in the eye. "Show me how it works. Hold your breath for me."

"No." Daryl scowled, and then grunted startled and tried to break free when one large hand cupped the back of his head, and another covered his mouth and nose tightly, instantly cutting off his oxygen intake.

"You don't wanna fucking talk back." Negan raised his voice and brows, providing firm eye contact. "Focus on me." He nodded once, seeing the panic ease off Daryl's face, the struggle stopping. "Good boy. You can't breathe but you can fucking trust me, right? I don't suffocate my puppy."   

Daryl's mind was racing, not sure what's going on. He clawed ten fingers into Negan's wrist, ready to pull it off if necessary.

"Arms down." Negan spoke in calm tone. "I let you breathe if you have to." He waited until his order was fulfilled, took another 6 seconds and then slowly took his fingers off. "Good job." He watched his sub gasp and breathe in deeply, confusion in blue eyes. "Now pick my towel up, so I can dry you off. We have things to do."

----

Daryl was tired and felt a bit sore, but he still tried his best to multi task on his way back from the Good Karma Coffee house. Holding Tiger's leash in one hand, a bag with two gluten-free sourdough buckwheat English muffins under his arm, eating a still warm raisin bun, while focusing on Negan and his hand signals. He did awesome.

"You're doing awesome." Negan snapped his fingers and patted the back of his thigh when he crossed the street, knowing his puppies would follow him to heel.

Tiger knew the way, walking next to Daryl obediently and not even pulled on the leash when they reached the parking lot in front of the factory's store.

"Hello!" Janitor Joseph smiled happily and waved a chubby hand as his boss and the young man in his possession walked by. He noticed the tan on their faces, which made him smile even wider.

Negan waved two fingers in his employee's direction, distracted by the loud voices coming from the store as he opened the door.

"Would you stop? It is just a dinner! He picked an Italian restaurant just because he knows how much you love pizza! He wants to see you!" Rick had one hand on his hip, gesturing wildly with the other. "You can't let him down like that!"

"I let him down?" Paul's eyes widened in disbelief. "Sir, with all due respect, I really think I-"

"Well if you had any respect you would honor my wish, boy!" Rick said it confidently, but just a second later looked a little unsettled and avoided his eyes, glancing to the side with a sigh. "Look, I-"

"No." Jesus put a hand up, his bottom lip starting to quiver. "Forget it. You've won. I'll go." He lowered his gaze and turned around to leave. He had to finish some work in the back of the store. Boxes wouldn't unpack on their own.

Daryl sniffed his nose, forgetting to chew his raisin bun as the door fell shut behind him. He looked at Negan, wanting confirmation.

"Yes." Negan took the bag with the food. "Go, take Tiger with you." He watched his sub going after boy number two, before he addressed Rick. Calm but very serious. "You have one chance to explain."   

Rick answered after a full minute of silence and didn't look up. "I try to make it work."

"You wanna fucking look at me when you speak."

Rick swallowed every counter argument, as well as his pride, because his boss told the truth. He wanted to. So he raised his head and found an unsmiling face, without any anger or blame. He repeated his words, in the same humble, honest tone as before. "I try to make it work."

Negan gave him a long look. "Try it again. This time in his best interest. Not yours."

Rick opened his mouth to say something, because he really thought getting all three of them together again would be in Paul's best interest. He would see that Shane was himself again without the alcohol. That there was no reason to be angry or scared anymore. That Shane was still the funny, charming man he had always been underneath all the alcohol-influenced rage. But then again, he knew that wasn't the problem. Because whoever Shane was right now, wouldn't change what had happened. It wouldn't undo the past year. So he didn't say anything in the end and just lowered his gaze with a single nod.

Negan snapped his fingers, standing a bit taller as he watched his employee coming slowly closer, eyes on the ground. "You wanna go and talk to your boy. Make him feel safe. Make sure he knows that he fucking comes before everything else." He put a hand on Rick's shoulder. "Then you may go to dinner with Shane. Paul stays here. You message me at least twice while you are out."

Rick pinched his nose, feeling an enormous wave of relief washing through his tense body, even though the alpha part of his personality rebelled and voted for a snarky remark and defiance. It was shut down. "Alright."

"Good." Negan squeezed the man's shoulder, patted his cheek twice, and handed him the bag. "English muffins. You did great last night."

----

you can come with us

Daryl stared at his phone, typing with one finger, while Negan crouched in front of him in the factory hall he used as garage, to put a pair of heavy leather boots on his sub's feet.

"You just saw him five minutes ago." Negan pulled the shoelaces as tight as possible. "What do you still have to talk about."

Daryl shrugged, blindly stretching his other leg out. "He should be with us." He sniffed his nose to his gruff statement.

Negan tied the other boot up in silence, got up and snapped his fingers, wanting Daryl to do the same. "Eyes on me." He took his red scarf off and put it around his sub's collared neck before he zipped up the leather jacket he wore. It was too big, but would do for now. "I take care of him for a long time already. I do what's necessary. Right? You want to focus on your job and let me handle the situation." He zipped his own jacket up and put his gloves on. "Love is complicated sometimes."

Daryl raised his leather clad shoulder to rub his ear against. "Do you?" His question was quiet and didn't sound very friendly, but Negan answered it anyway, firm and without hesitation.

"Do I love Paul?" He tucked a strand of hair behind a pale ear, "Yes. He is my boy." then took Daryl's head in both hands. "But he is not my Daryl. You know what that means?" It was obvious that Daryl didn't know what it meant, because he looked crushed and defeated immediately. Negan slid gloved fingers to the back of his sub's neck, leaning close to speak into his ear. "It means Daryl is collared. Daryl sleeps in my bed. I fuck Daryl without a fucking condom, because he is my sweetheart." He brushed his lips along a warm ear. "Right? It also means you wanna grab two helmets off the shelf and go pick a bike for team Negan. Because my brother-in-law is waiting at the god damn prison."

----

The ride to the prison was so much better than the first one had been. Sitting behind Negan on his awesome black Triumph, speeding through town, it really felt like they were a team.

Walking into the prison, hand in hand, carrying helmets and wearing wonderful black leather was like being in protective armor, and Daryl wished that Merle would stand at the window and see them coming.  

Inside, Negan took full control as always, talked to the red haired lady behind the counter, signed papers, answered questions, ordered Daryl to store the phones, wallets and helmets into a locker, and put money on a white plastic card.

Their number for security check was 9, and the machine beeped furiously when it detected a silver steel collar around Daryl's neck. Officer Hanson didn't seem surprised, though and complimented the shy visitor on his pretty jewelry.

"Hm." Daryl wasn't sure if he was made fun of or not, and quickly wrapped the red scarf back around his neck. He watched as Negan unzipped his leather jacket and spread his arms, allowing the officer to pat him down. It woke up the butterflies in his stomach, because it was really very nice of the tall angry man to do all that for some criminal that lived in his basement.  

The visitors room was different today. Very full, with a lot of families, children and elderly people. At the table in the very back of the room close to the wall, sat a man alone, a prisoner in orange jumper, guarded by a warden who stood close by.

Daryl saw him instantly, a hot bolt shooting through his chest, spreading fear and worry, and then a little bit excitement when Negan recognized the man as well.

"There he is." He put a hand on Daryl's back, gently shoving him forward. "Good morning." He touched Merle's shoulder very briefly as a greeting and sat down on the opposite side of the table, patting the free seat to his right for his nervous sub. "Sit down."

"Hello." Daryl felt hot and cold at the same time, the whole situation as unreal as a very weird dream. Merle was quiet, seeming afflicted and distant, not offering much except for a short nod.    

Daryl glanced at Negan and then lowered his head, embarrassed that there wasn't a friendly hug or happy greeting, like it was supposed to between brothers. Now everybody knew first hand that Merle didn't like him much anymore, and maybe never had.

"So, how's the weather outside." Merle leaned back, observing the two men at the table, both wearing heavy, black leather. He had dreaded this visit, but in the last moment decided to not cancel it. Now he wished he had, just because his visitors looked unfamiliar, and so much like outside-life, it hurt his guts. They smelled like leather, fresh air and exhaust fumes, mocking him with their freedom to go wherever they wanted to.  

Negan didn't miss the slightly sarcastic undertone, knowing exactly where it came from and couldn't help but to feel sympathetic. But he knew better than to show it. "Actually a bit nippy. Better bring your sweater."

Daryl held his gaze down, pulling his fingers on his lap, and then was surprised to hear his brother's hoarse chuckle. It made him glance up through his longish bangs. Merle looked at him.

"You have a bike now?" He recognized the tousled look of helmet hair.

A very small smile tugged at the corners of Daryl's mouth. "No. 's his." He sniffed his nose, touching the sleeve of Negan's leather jacket briefly with the back of his fingers. "A Triumph Tiger." He wished he had a photo, because it was really awesome.

Merle pursed his lips, nodding, giving the tall, attractive man on the other side of the table a once over. "Well, well... quite some sugar daddy you got yourself there, son."

A deep chuckle emerged from Negan's throat, humor gleaming in dark eyes.

Daryl glanced back and forth between the two older men, not entirely sure what a sugar daddy was, but he had an idea and felt offended and protective of his owner at the same time. "'s not like that." He glowered at his brother. "He just gave me a ride."

Negan was impressed, seeing where his boy's true loyalties lay at the end of the day. "He knows. We're just joking, right?" He squeezed Daryl's thigh, giving him a friendly look, "You wanna go get us something to drink and a snack." then handed him the prepaid card for the vending machines. "Try to find something that doesn't make our fucking teeth rot."

Daryl took it and got up, hating the smug grin on his brother's face. He really wanted him to behave and see how awesome Negan was. He wanted him to be proud and say something nice and polite. But Merle was as he always was, and Negan obviously waited for his order to be followed, so he went to the vending machines and used the plain white plastic card to get three ham sandwiches, three bottles of water, a bag of bugles, popcorn with cheddar, wasabi peanuts, cool ranch doritos and some kind of chocolate cake, because it said on the packaging that it contained real milk cream with a hint of honey, and that sounded very healthy. It took him seven minutes to get everything out of the machines, and another two to transport it all back to the table, because first he dropped a water bottle, then the peanuts, and in the end everything when he bumped into five year old Magdalena who visited her step father together with her mother and three siblings.

He stacked his purchases on the table, noticing that Merle and Negan held a real conversation. Negan listened attentively, nodding when Merle said something about court and cost coverage.

"Because they're assholes, that's why." Negan took a bottle of water out of his boy's arms, handing it to Merle. "Trying to make it as complicated as fucking possible." He patted the seat for Daryl to sit back down, then blindly stroked the back of his neck when he followed the invitation. "I'll tell Philip to work it out for you."

Merle nodded, sniffing his nose as he grabbed for a sandwich because he was starving and too proud to ask if it was for him.

Negan unscrewed a bottle while scanning the pile of snacks on the table for something remotely eatable. The winner was a bag of popcorn with cheese coating. He opened it and gave it to Daryl, along with the water, caressing his cheek with two fingers.

Merle snorted, seeing his brother nestling into the loving touch of his attractive benefactor. "Fags."

"Homosexuals." Negan corrected in the most casual tone, popping a wasabi nut into his mouth.

Daryl scowled across the table, then lowered his head in shame. "You're bisexual."

"I am bisexual. Clever boy." Negan reached into the pocket of his leather jacket, got a raisin out and shoved it into his sub's mouth. Then leaned close, nodding towards an abandoned pack of cards on one of the other tables. "Can you go grab that for me, please?"

Daryl got up instantly, noticing that this time the look on Merle's face wasn't smug but almost disgusted, as if he had seen or smelled something really bad. He tried to ignore it and focus on the job he was given.

"Making a good dog my lil' brother." Merle chuckled hoarsely and drank from his water, then studied the label, feigning interest in the manufacturer.

"He's also making a fucking loyal man who's looking forward to see your disrespectful ass for two weeks now." Negan's tone wasn't reproachful at all, just informative and almost friendly. He leaned back, raising his bottle in Merle's direction. "You might want to consider that."   

"Consider what." Daryl came back, sniffing his nose as he handed the pack of old cards to Negan, insecurely flicking a strand of hair out of his forehead.

"Modeling for my new leather jacket line, once his ass is outta here."

Daryl sat down, looking from Negan to his brother and back again. "Okay." He really liked that idea. Merle would look awesome in Negan's new jackets and his picture would be on the website and everywhere in the store.

Negan smiled at him, shuffling the cards and then dished out seven to each of them, placing the remaining pile in the middle of the table with the backside up. He chuckled deep in his throat as he fanned out the cards in his hand, a look of triumph on his face. "Oh boys, you don't stand a fucking chance."

----

Leaving the prison, Daryl felt so giddy and happy that he even said a polite good bye to Berta behind the counter.

He couldn't remember when he had ever had a better time with his brother. Seeing the rummy battle between him and Negan was so much fun, hearing them laugh, and curse and drop foul mouthed remarks up to the point where warden Sulesky asked for a bit more discipline. It was like a dream come true. It didn't even feel like they were in a prison, it was like sitting at a bar, just without the beer and whiskey.

And he had won two games himself, fair and square. Which was like a little miracle, because Merle Dixon was the Rummy God of Georgia, and obviously Negan was in no way inferior. But both men had been proud of him, one praising him with the most rewarding words and a hand-fed piece of almost healthy cake, the other raising a half empty water bottle in his honor, calling him a smart little shit.

In the end, when the 70 minutes of visiting time were over, Merle and Negan even shook hands. In a real good way, with a firm look of respect.  

The smile on Daryl's face stayed unalterably in place, walking all the way over the parking lot, while Negan zipped their jackets up, put his gloves back on, and swung his long leg over the seat of his pretty black bike, straddling it.

"You look awfully happy for someone who just lost six games in a row." Negan squinted, pulling Daryl close.

It wasn't difficult at all to look straight into Negan's dark eyes, even from such a close distance. And it was the easiest thing in the world to lean in even closer and place a kiss on perfect lips.

"Are you so nice to me?" Negan spoke against a pale pink mouth, returning the affection.

Daryl didn't answer, but bravely touched the scruff on Negan's cheek. He sniffed his nose quietly and closed his eyes as he kissed again, parting his lips a little to dip his tongue out.

Negan wound his fingers into the long strands at the back of Daryl's head, intensifying the kiss, and then groaned when a shy hand touched the bulge in his dark denims. He pulled his arm tighter around the man's waist, putting his own hand over Daryl's, squeezing a little. "Naughty boy. Are you making me hard?"

Daryl's heart thumped wildly underneath the thick cover of a too big leather jacket, making him feel hot and tingly. He liked the husky tone of Negan's voice and nodded, their noses touching.

"Mhm." Negan nodded as well, his tongue snaking out to lick glistening lips. "Are you my good puppy?"

A happy glint flickered through blue eyes and Daryl nodded a third time, shyly lapping his owner's mouth.

Negan dared the traitorous wing-flapping vermin in his stomach to sit the fuck down and behave, as a wave of warmth and fondness washed through his body. "Yes, you are."

----

Daryl knew Apex Swimming. He had been there before. To take a shower with Jesus, back when he was a mean, nasty criminal. A filthy thief, living on the streets, eating out of trash cans, and sleeping on the benches in the park.

... and he would have given his left leg and arm right now to be on a peaceful bench, eating old chicken nuggets, instead of sitting in a warm locker room, wearing nothing but a tight pair of black speedos.

He could smell the chlorine from here, and a dull feeling spread from his nervous stomach to all other parts of his body. He really didn't want to swim. Not now. Maybe later, next week or next month, or maybe in 2020. But Negan had given him clear instructions to put on swimwear and come out to meet him at the pool. So he wrapped his arms around his body, feeling like an icicle despite the 89,6 °F, as he padded with bare feet out of the locker room, wrinkled his nose as he passed a row of showers, and stopped warily when he entered the main swimming hall and chlorinated humidity engulfed him, making his stomach flip unpleasantly.

A floor to ceiling wall of windows bathed the whole room in light, but they weren't see-through, and gave just a very vague idea of what could be on the other side. The pool itself was huge and very deep compared to the small one at the spa on the cruise ship. The surface perfectly flat, like a gigantic pane of glass, to admire the blue mosaic of tiles underneath. There were diving boards in different heights at one end, and a large variety of swimming aids, toys and equipment in nets and metal baskets at the opposite end, stacked near the wall.

Daryl had seen enough. He wanted to go back home and rather unpack lube deliveries at the store with Jesus.

"Ksst." Negan put a towel down on a tiled bench at the sidelines and crooked his finger, beckoning his sub over. He wore red bathing trunks, his dark hair neatly slicked back, his body already wet from a recent shower. "Come over here. What's with the grumpy face again."

The scowl on Daryl's features grew a bit deeper and he sniffed his nose, before he followed the small order and slowly came closer. He coughed twice and then a third time. Maybe he felt a little ill.

Negan wasn't impressed, pulling Daryl's lower jaw down. "Open." He took a quick glance at a perfectly healthy throat, put his other hand on a pale forehead and then released his boy, patting his cheek. "All good. Kneel down for me. We start our lesson."

Daryl looked down at the tiled ground, not sure if he understood the order right, but Negan didn't repeat it, so he just crouched down and got into the required position, his back straight and his knees spread slightly, peeking up nervously.

Negan squatted down with a sigh, creating firm eye contact. "There is no reason to be scared. I know you can't swim, that's why we're here, right. You wanna focus on me and do as you're told. If you wanna stop, you tell me and we go home."

Daryl nodded, fumbling with his fingers behind his back. "Can I watch you." From the safe poolside. That would certainly be enough to learn a few things.

"I just told you, there is no reason to be fucking scared. If I go into the water with you, you are just as safe as everywhere else I take you." Negan arched his brows, tipping his chin down. "Right?"

"Hm. Right."

"Good. Now look at my hand. I count to ten for you. That's how long you wanna hold your breath for me." Negan held a fist up. "Ready? Take a deep breath and hold it." He nodded once, "Go." watching as his order was followed and slowly started to spread his fingers out, one by one, holding firm eye contact. At a full hand he started over, but only came to his middle finger, before Daryl exhaled. "Good job, that was eight. Try again. I do it with you." He held his fist up again, "Ready? Go." and took a deep breath himself, copying Daryl with a faint smile. He counted silently with his fingers, first to five, then started again, and this time reached number ten, before his sub exhaled soundly. He did the same, just for effect. "Look at you! Great job, boy!" He reached into the pocket of his bathing trunks, getting a slightly wet raisin out and shoved it between pale pink lips, wagging his brows when Daryl chuckled. "Wet treats for pool puppies."

Daryl smiled, the sweet taste in his mouth spreading just as fast as the happiness in his chest. He touched Negan's hand. "Again."

"Open your mouth. Did you swallow?" Negan inspected the pink tongue that was presented for him, "Good. Eleven this time." and held his fist up. "Deep fucking breath. Ready? Go."

Daryl did as he was told and watched Negan doing the same, holding steady eye contact. It was one of the most fun games he had ever played in his life. From the seventh finger up it got really tricky, but he managed to hold his breath until number twelve. He almost burst with pride as he finally exhaled.

... and then knitted his eyebrows when Negan didn't do the same, but kept his mouth shut, grinning and counting on. To fifteen, twenty, twenty-five. At thirty, Daryl started to get worried. At forty he got a little angry. "Stop." At fifty he slapped Negan's chest and when that didn't help, grabbed Negan's evil counting fingers and pulled them down before they reached sixty.

Negan stopped counting, but smiled and leaned in close to kiss Daryl's lips, before he exhaled, effortless, as if his body hadn't even missed the oxygen. "It's all training, grumpy puppy." He kissed him again, then got up and snapped his fingers. "Now show me how you wanna enter the water."

Daryl got up, instantly wrapping his arms back around his chest as he glanced at the pool. "The ladder."

"There is no ladder." Negan bent down, holding on to the side of the pool and gracefully glided in. "I had them removed." He smirked at his sub, earning a reproachful look.

"Why." It didn't seem fair.

"Because everyone needs to be able to exit a fucking pool without a ladder. When there's no other way out of here, they either learn to climb, or they stay in the water all night." In fact he had some students who spent a whole lot of time paddling around before they learned to heave their lazy butts out on their own. "Now come here. Sit."

Daryl wanted to kneel at the poolside, but Negan pulled at his legs, insisting that they had to hang into the water. It was cool and gently lapping at the tiled edges, the perfectly flat surface gone.

"Look at my feet, I am able to stand here. You will be as well."

The water was almost up to Negan's collarbone, so Daryl wasn't very optimistic.

"I want you to hold on to the side with both hands, twist and slowly lower yourself in. Backwards." Negan came closer, hooking his right elbow over the pool edge. "Try."

Daryl didn't want to be a coward and tried to do it as fast and casual as possible, but the water was deeper as he thought it would be and his feet couldn't reach the ground, so he gasped and clung to the side for dear life, looking unhappily at Negan.

"Good job. You can put your feet down, just let go of the wall." Negan demonstrated what he meant and held a hand out for Daryl, providing support.

It was true, Daryl could feel tiles underneath his feet, but just barely, while the water swashed around his collared neck, almost up to his jaw. He held his head as high as possible, feeling as if he would lose balance at any moment. He didn't like it and wanted to go home, but was too embarrassed to admit it.

Negan took a hold of his sub's chin. "What is the most important thing you want to remember in the pool."

Daryl sniffed his nose, holding on to Negan's wrist. "You."

The small answer given in dead serious tone, curled the corners of Negan's mouth up in an instant. "Aren't you a fucking darling, look at you." He brushed pale pink lips with his thumb, loving the innocent expression in blue eyes. "But the most important thing to remember in the pool is your fucking safety, right? You need to know how to exit a pool, no matter how deep it is, whether you are hurt or tired, whether there's a ladder or not." He patted the tiled pool edge. "Put a hand on here, I show you."

Daryl liked that exercise a lot and watched attentively how Negan lifted himself gracefully out of the pool in one swift motion, just by pushing himself up with his arms, putting his right foot on the tiled ground. It looked easy.

"If you're not hurt or tired, you do it like that." Negan slipped back into the water, demonstrating a different technique. "If you're not feeling well, you might try it like this." He used his elbows to push himself up, got up on his belly and pulled his legs sideways out of the water. He slid immediately back in, patting the edge. "Your turn. Show me."

Daryl was pretty tired because the night had been so short, but he wanted to do the first lift-up anyway, because it looked much cooler. So he put both hands flat on the side of the pool, and on the second try managed to push himself so high up, that he was able to get a foot on the ground.

"Good job!" Negan liked what he saw. "Come back in as I taught you. Show me what you wanna do when you're really tired." He went a step back, holding both hands out without actually touching, as he watched Daryl slip back into the water, a bit clumsy but with the right technique. "Exactly. Now elbows, belly, legs. Show me."

It was uncomfortable, the hard edge pressing into Daryl's stomach, but he managed to move himself out, and did it a second and third time, because Negan asked for it. He felt proud as he lowered himself back into the water, maybe he wasn't such a bad swimmer after all.

"Very nice, boy. Now come here." Negan walked a few steps back, cutting the contact to the safe pool wall. He held his hand out, seeing every emotion clearly visible on his sub's face.

Daryl exhaled soundly, facing away from the wall and towards Negan. It was difficult to put his feet firmly on the ground, no matter how hard he tried, he walked more on his toes and the water seemed to tug and drag him to the left and right, converting every movement into a weird slow motion. When he finally reached the rescuing hand and was pulled close against a tall, safe body, they were almost in the middle of the water. He stretched his leg out, unable to feel the ground, and wrapped his arms tightly around Negan's neck, ready to ask for a ride home.

"Well done." Negan let him, putting a knee up for more support. He nuzzled his sub's wet neck, grazing the steel collar with his teeth. "You're still safe. I wouldn't let you fucking drown. Right?"

Daryl nodded, liking how soft and slick their bodies felt against each other in the water, and then flinched when sharp teeth bit his shoulder. "Yes."

"Mhm. Damn right I wouldn't." Negan pulled back, wanting eye contact. "Hold on to my shoulders. Stretch your arms out." He put his hands securely on Daryl's elbows. "I want you to take a deep breath, hold it and put your face into the water. Open your eyes. Look what I do with my feet. Come up, exhale, and tell me."

Ten fingernails dug into Negan's shoulders. Daryl didn't like this exercise at all, making wide eyes when the rules were explained.

Negan smiled encouragingly. "Ready? Deep fucking breath." He watched his sub following the order, "Go!" and helped a little by putting a guiding hand to the side of his face.   

Opening eyes under water was weird and everything seemed a little blurry, but Daryl could see bare feet on blue tiles. They did nothing at first and then wiggled with their big toes, right before he was out of breath and had to come back up, gasping for air.

"Awesome job!" Negan wiped the dripping hair from Daryl's face. "What did I do. Did you see?"

"Hm." Daryl nodded, blinking water from his eyes. "Your toes." He wiggled his finger for explanation.

"That's right. Now you watch my fingers under water. Count to ten and you get a reward." He put his hand back to the side of Daryl's face, not allowing much time to think the task over. "Deep breath. Ready? Go." He pushed the man's head a couple of inches deeper into the water than before and soothingly stroked a pale ear, while he counted with his other hand near his crotch. First a full hand, then started over, but let one finger intentionally out, before he pulled his boy back up.

Daryl squeezed his eyes shut then rubbed them, seeming confused. "'t wasn't ten."

"Is that so." Negan wagged his eyebrows with a smile, stepping close as he hooked his thumb behind the man's lower teeth to pull his jaw down. He tilted his head a little, spitting with force on a pink, silky tongue. "Good boy, keeping your eyes open like a champ." He gave wet lips a slow lick, "Fucking amazing." and stepped back again, snapping his fingers. "Show me how I want you to get out of the pool. Sit on the edge for me."

Daryl smiled and did as told, glad that he was able to follow all of the instructions so far. He wished Ms. Greene could see him.

"Good job!" Negan watched his sub pushing himself out of the water and sit down on the side obediently. "Now we wanna do some floating, right?" He went up to stand right in front of Daryl. "Bent down and put your hands on my shoulders."

Daryl did, looking straight into Negan's close face, listening carefully.

"You take a deep breath and hold it. Face into the water, arms and legs straight." Negan nodded once, then held his student by the elbows, "Ready? Deep fucking breath!" and made two steps back, "Go." pulling Daryl off the side of the pool into the water. "That's right, head down, body straight, I do the rest." He pulled his sub slowly through the water, absolutely pleased with his relaxed attitude. "You wanna open your eyes, look where my dick is!"

Daryl heard the instruction and did as told, seeing the blurry image of red bathing trunks and Negan's legs slowly moving backwards. It felt good to float through the water, he just wished he could hold his breath longer.

"Awesome job!" Negan stopped, putting a hand underneath Daryl's chin, pulling his head back up. "Look at you being so clever!" He noticed how Daryl naturally started to tread water and paddle his feet as his legs sank down. "Well done. Did you see my dick?"

Daryl flicked his head, but the wet strands kept sticking to his face. "No."

"No? How come?" Negan feigned surprise. "Try again, dive down."

Daryl wiped his nose with the back of his hand, then took a deep breath and stuck his head under water, keeping one hand tightly on Negan's arm. He opened his eyes after a second, going a bit deeper with his upper body, while putting his butt in the air, and was rewarded when Negan pulled the waistband of his bathing trunks from his flat belly, allowing a nice view at his bare genitals. Daryl nudged his nose against a narrow trail of coarse dark hair and went back up all on his own, kicking his feet. He gasped for air and spit a bit of water out, but chuckled against Negan's shoulder, wrapping his arms tightly around his neck.

"Are you an underwater puppy?" Negan hugged him close, feeling seriously proud to see all the initial fear replaced by curiosity and burning ambition.

"Hm." Daryl sucked the water off warm, slick skin, burying his face into the crook of Negan's neck. "Yes." He was. 

----

Normally, swim instructor Negan ended his first lesson with relaxing back floating and some words of praise after exactly sixty minutes. However, his time schedule got a little out of shape, with enthusiastic Daryl Dixon, who first wanted to do more front floating, then more dick diving, and in the end almost fell asleep, his head resting on Negan's shoulder, warm puppy cheek against wet scruff, floating confidently on his back, while a deep rumbling voice told him all about motorcycle trips to the Chattahoochee National Forest, for Paul Rovia's birthday gift.

"You wanna come back for more training?" Negan adjusted the rear view mirror, then reached over to throw Paul's hairbrush into the glove compartment.

"Hm." Daryl nodded, a small smile on his pale lips. He was really very tired.

"Mhm. You wanna answer or get back out for a time-out. I'm sure I find a nice wall for you."

Daryl blinked guiltily through his long bangs, touching Negan's arm shyly with his fingertips. "I want."

"That's better." Negan started the engine and drove onto the street. "What did you like best. Tell me."

Daryl didn't have to think very long. The whole after-swimming-routine was terrific. Being dried off with a rough towel until his entire skin was red and hot. Being dressed with clothes warmed over the heater. Being fed with banana, almond milk and a large amount of Negan's very own special protein, as a reward for awesome dick diving. He wanted to do that again. "The locker room."   

Negan heard the answer, his hopes for a 'Great teacher award' flying out of the window. He gave his sub a side glance, then shook his head, sighing. "Fucking puppy."

----

Negan turned the water off, put his toothbrush back into the cup, and jogged out to the kitchen when his phone rang at almost nine in the evening. He found it underneath Paul's knitted beanie on the counter. "Yes."  

'Sorry for the late call, just wanted to let you know that we have a trial date.'

"No problem." Negan glanced at the couch, where Paul and Daryl sat freshly bathed, in their pajamas, underneath a blanket to watch a silly Chinese game show. "When is it."

'May twelfth, right in the morning, nine thirty.'

Negan sighed, rubbing his chin. "That's his fucking birthday." He heard Philip rustling through some papers.

'Oh yes. I see. Sorry, that's the best I could do.'

Daryl chuckled on his place between Paul's legs, craning his head back with the most happy expression as he explained why the guy on TV repeatedly fell into the big bucket of slime. Jesus laughed as well, wiping the hair out of Daryl's forehead, then rested his hand on it, kissing his temple.

"Yeah." Negan pinched his nose. "The twelfth is it then."

'Perfect.' Philip closed his folder and got up from his desk. 'Oh and keep in mind that we still need medical evidence. I'll make an appointment for next week.'

The ghost of a smile flickered over Negan's features when both of his subs burst into laughter. Because of the TV program, an inside joke, or just out of random happiness, he didn't know. He didn't care. The reason didn't matter. Not one bit. "Do that. Let me know."  

'I will. Enjoy your evening.'

"You too." He put his phone down, and after a few seconds picked it up again to snap a perfect picture of a perfect moment in the absolutely imperfect lives of his boys. Number one and two. Both his biggest joy and pride. And by far the strongest fucking people he knew.  
 

Chapter Text

At 5:25 PM, Negan entered the Emory University Hospital with his 31 year old sub Daryl. Performing his most confident stride, a solid grip around pale fingers, calm and steady, no sign of pity or unease visible. Not in his voice, not on his face.  

Chin up, eyes firmly fixed on the highly polished linoleum floor of the hallway stretching ahead. Twenty-one seconds of a silent walk, before he pushed against heavy navy double-doors and their dull chrome handles, causing them to swing open soundlessly. A draft of air hit his face, warm, with a hint of bleach, as another endless corridor of Magnolia walls unfolded, decorated with cheap art. Every few seconds they passed a different set of doors with a hand-sanitizer dispenser. Geriatrics, cardiology, psychiatry. He took a brief glance at the oncology-sign, ignoring the nausea immediately hitting his stomach, and headed straight for the door with the number 2-03. Forensic and Medical Sexual Assault Care. A white sign with blue letters, just like all the others, and that's exactly how he treated it.

They sat down on chairs that had seen better days. Metal and worn down leather. Along the wall. Made to wait for the moment of truth. Until your name was called and you had to face reality.

Daryl Dixon turned back into an eight year old boy, right in front of Negan's eyes. On the chair to his left. Nervously biting the inside of his lip, looking suspiciously from left to right whenever someone walked by. Pulling his fingers. Not a distant tugging, but serious pulling, one by one.

A male nurse, slender and tattooed, wearing a nose ring to his bald head, called "Dixon?" across the hallway, looking at his clipboard as he approached the waiting men.

Daryl sat further back into the chair, legs tugged underneath, holding on to the sides of his seat, as he looked up with big blue eyes, seeming so helpless, scared and innocent, so young, it hurt a very specific spot in Negan's heart.

"Number two." The nurse pointed at a door with a big blue number. "The doctor will be there in a minute. You can undress in the meantime."

Daryl pulled a shoulder up as he looked at Negan, furrowed brows, despair on his pale face. It was the moment to take charge. Not to ask questions or to give options. Not the time for encouraging words. It was the moment to take a boy's hand and go with him. To make him do the unthinkable. Because there was no way in hell that he could do it alone.

A curtain hanging limply from the chrome railing, looking like it's been washed a thousand times. Polystyrene tiled ceiling. Crisp paper sheets on a functional examination table. Two aluminum carts with unequivocal medical supplies. The outdated computer screen on a small, cluttered desk already informing about the next patient. White, male, 31 years old, sexual assault, official valuation and photographic evidence for judicial procedure.

Darryl Dixon. Negan stared at the misspelled name, typed into a standard form for victims of abuse. He felt quiet rage building inside his chest and shoved it aside immediately. He would have time for that later. In private, with a double Scotch. When his boy was asleep in a safe, clean bed, with only good things underneath the pillow and on his mind.
But right now, there was a lot of nervous fidgeting. Unnecessary folding of socks and underwear. Trembling fingers unbuckling a leather wrist wallet. And not a word mentioned, or comment made about a small green dinosaur figurine, held tightly in a much too cold hand. Because that's what eight year old boys needed for comfort.

Just like stability, firm rules and guidelines to hold on to. "That's not how you wanna treat your shoes."  Negan gestured at the scattered footwear on the ground, that he could've picked up himself, but didn't because one of them had to hold the safe frame up and intact. He snapped his fingers, watching as Daryl climbed off the table and crouched down to arrange his shoes in a better way. The thin hospital gown he wore parting at his back to reveal deeply scarred skin.

A smile softened Negan's features and three fingertips brushed the top of Daryl's head. "Good boy. That's much better."

Pure innocence smiled back up at him, when Daryl agreed to a hundred percent and soaked the small praise up like a sponge. He rubbed his forehead against Negan's knee, tousling his wild bangs even more in the process. Then hid the tiny dinosaur in the safe cave of an old brown leather boot, got up and sat back onto the crisp paper cover, being a brave little shit, because that was the only choice he had.

The doctor walked in with a face like a brick. Like a soldier. Her movements all sharp and with purpose. Her eyes were devoid of any make-up, her hair in a tight bun, not a strand out of place. She analyzed the chart for a few seconds and looked up, smiling in the cold and distant way professionals do.

Negan couldn't stand such expressions. He wanted a genuine face, not some fake interest or sympathy people didn't feel.  

A nurse followed two feet behind, a grim slash for a mouth and knitted brows. She closed the door and just stood there, supposed to offer a second pair of eyes for witness.

Eight year old Daryl rejuvenated even more, shrinking into an intimidated heap of misery at the sight of two women and the prospect lying ahead. He engaged in a shy handshake with limp fingers and round eyes, copying the nod he was given while fisting five fingers into the thin fabric of his gown.

The dom in Negan protested against everything he saw, ready to kill and slaughter, to create a safe, peaceful environment for the man in his care. To keep away any harm and bad memory. The human in Negan hurt. Knowing there was nothing he could do, because he was too late. By 20 years. And of course, in the end, the professional in Negan kept the upper hand. Because that was his superpower. Providing strength and protection that others didn't have and desperately needed. Steady and calm. Unwavering at all times. Answering questions when Daryl couldn't get a word out. Helping out of the only piece of clothing his boy had been allowed to wear. Standing firmly by his side when he was forced to let the last guard down and display the evidence of his father's love under bright neon lights.

Negan's stomach tightened. Cramped painfully, through the examination, at every perfunctory command the doctor gave, at the callous prodding and touching, as blue eyes dropped to the paper covers, defeated and humiliated. When trembling hands stretched over the cold crisp sheet like an infant in search of a comforting toy.

A cold, silver speculum was inserted. A camera brought out. And Negan was alone when he squatted down, trying to be close and offer a place to hide. Face to face. There was nobody to protect or speak to, because Daryl was gone. Fled from his maltreated body he hated so much. Far away, to a secret place only he knew about. Where he was alone with the little treasures he had found along the way through a much too painful life. Where he was safe and nobody could try to love him. Where voice recorders didn't exist and he didn't have to hear emotionless doctors voices, forming the blunt truth into spoken words.

Negan was jealous of that secret hiding place, as he looked into blank, blue eyes, zoned out, leaving him alone, while the doctor's words washed over him like a bucket of cold sick, making him feel nauseous to the pit of his stomach.

"Penis, scrotum and perineum n.a.d., severe anal trauma, rectum shows keloided lacerations and tears near the anus, anal sphincter disruption. Scarred skin on back and thighs are indicative of longstanding physical abuse." She put the small recorder down and removed the speculum. "You can sit up and dress, Mister Dixon." A pair of light blue rubber gloves was tossed into a near trash bin, and she slumped down on a roll stool, moving with it to her small desk, immediately starting to type. "I take it you are in a homosexual relationship?"

Rage of the worst kind shot through Negan's chest as he helped Daryl back into an upright position. Standing with his back to the woman who had already a clear picture in her small minded head. "The case you were asked to evaluate refers to child abuse. I am sure you agree that Mister Dixon's sexual preferences are fucking irrelevant for your report." His tone wasn't aggressive or impolite, almost too calm and friendly. The professional in him wanted it that way. Never grant an insight of your personal feelings to inferior people. Always be stable around your sub.

He helped trembling fingers through the sleeves of a much too big shirt out of his closet. He tucked a strand of soft, tousled hair behind a red glowing ear. He squatted down with a sigh and remark about his old bones, to free a green dinosaur out of his safe hiding place, and to put old brown leather shoes on very cold feet. Tying new shoe laces extra tight, with secure square knots.

At 6:34 PM, Negan left the Emory University Hospital with his 31 year old sub Daryl. Performing his most confident stride, a solid grip around pale fingers, calm and steady, no sign of pity or unease visible. Not in his voice, not on his face.

It was his superpower.

----

"Th." Long after midnight, with a lot of doubles in his bloodstream, Negan stood in the bathroom, shaking his head, at the small metal toy cruise ship he found next to the sink.

It was wet, just like half of the floor and everything around, silent witness of the fact that its buoyancy had been tested. By the little boy in 31 year old Daryl Dixon.

He was hiding most of the time, scared off by the evil world, a very long time ago.

But every now and then he felt safe enough to come out for a little while. To do some of the things he had missed. And Negan loved seeing him. Sometimes it was a sad encounter. Sometimes unexpected. Sometimes just the biggest joy.

But that he had made an appearance tonight, after a day that couldn't have been more awful, made him especially proud. It showed that he did right. Even if he wasn't a savior and didn't feel like a hero. His superpower was intact and working.

Chapter Text

"JESUS! COME!" Daryl stood at the bottom of the stairs, yelling at the top of his lungs, because he was really out of patience by now.

He was up since 4 in the morning, had carried the luggage downstairs, checked the bikes twice, made sandwiches with cheese and mortadella that looked a bit weird but would certainly taste awesome, and then waited and waited until Negan's alarm clock went off. But even after that things just wouldn't speed up. Showers had to be taken, newspapers needed to be read, e-mails were supposed to be sent out and Tiger deserved a long walk. Daryl was short from bursting.

At almost eight o'clock, Negan came finally downstairs, wearing a backpack with a sandwich inside that Daryl had made with his own hands, and swung his long leg over the seat of his wonderful black Harley. But that didn't mean that they could start, because Paul Rovia was still busy putting his freshly washed and blow dried hair into a stylish bun, that was supposed to look messy and fortuitous, when in reality it needed twenty minutes and the expertise of a french coiffeur to be constructed.

Daryl sighed, went three stairs up and whistled on his fingers. "JESUS!"

"Coming!" Paul closed the door, shouldered his brand new Woolrich Rover backpack in stylish tartan design and jogged down the stairs. "Jeez, give a guy a minute."

Daryl grumbled something unintelligible and pulled the red door shut behind them, giving Paul a little push towards the old Triumph Bonneville he had picked for the trip.

"You." Negan put his helmet on the handlebar, straddling his bike as he beckoned his boys over. "Come here for a sec."

Daryl suppressed a sigh because he really didn't know why they couldn't start already.

"Just to be clear. You stay behind me at all times." Negan gave his subs a warning stare. "No bullshit. You look for the signals I give you. You behave. You do as I fucking say or we-"

"Turn around and go back home." Jesus rolled his eyes, knowing the drill.

Negan gave him a withering glare, then reached up and unceremoniously pulled the black rubber tie out of Paul's hair, making his long strands fall around his face. "Put your fucking helmet on."

Paul whined, throwing his hands out in disbelief and pure disappointment. "You destroyed my sexy lumberjack look!" He earned a blank stare, sighed, "Fine." and went to put his helmet on, climbing gracefully on Daryl's bike, close to the tail lights. "Just tried to camp in style."

Negan tugged the front of his sub's shirt. "Boy. Will you behave?"

Daryl nodded, glad that he didn't wear some inappropriate hairdo. "Yes."

"Mhm. Wish me a safe ride."

Daryl shyly touched the heavy leather of Negan's jacket. "Safe ride."

A tiny smirk curved Negan's lips. He tapped his cheek with one finger.

Daryl pulled his shoulder up, sniffed his nose and leaned in to place a clumsy kiss on perfectly trimmed facial hair. Negan smelled really good. Like musky cologne and leather.

"Good boy." Negan put his helmet on and turned the key, revving the engine. "Let's start then."

----

It was a long ride in perfect weather. Out of town, along endless seeming straight ways, around curvy mountain streets, for more than an hour. The trees whirred by, blending into a blur of brown and green.

Paul loved it. At times he closed his eyes, just feeling the wind around him, breathing in the fresh air as much as his lungs could hold and a whiff of Daryl. Leather and shampoo. The bike's engine gave a constant roar, lulling him in and drowned off any thought that tried to invade his closed-off mind. The curves of the road rocked him side to side like a baby's cradle, and he felt like he could fall away into oblivion if he would let go. But he didn't. He slid an inch closer against Daryl's backside, seeking his warmth. He smiled, watching the slightly wavy hair at the back of Daryl's neck ruffle in the wind. He could have touched it, but they went around another curve, and he held on a little more tightly, wrapping his arms around a leather clad waist, feeling better and better with every mile they brought between themselves and Atlanta. Seeing one of his Dads safely leading the way, knowing he would sleep far away from home tonight, outside, flooded him with relief. It was like a trip out of his life.

He blinked slowly, fanning his left hand through the cool air stream, wishing he could take the helmet off to nuzzle his face against the smooth leather of Daryl's jacket.

Negan glanced into the mirror, very pleased with his subs. Daryl was an excellent driver and Jesus seemed to be relaxed and happy, holding his fingers out into the wind, his long hair whipping around his shoulders. He signaled a new direction, wanting to use the last chance to refuel, before they headed up through the woods.

Daryl slowed down, following Negan to the left, along a smaller road. In the first moment he was afraid they would stop already, but then he saw the sign of the gas station and smiled into his helmet. More gas meant Negan wanted to drive much longer. Maybe to Fort Lauderdale or all the way to Washington.

----

In the off-peak seasons, Harriette Olafson usually didn't have many customers, because her little gas station was miles from anywhere. And the few customers she had, were mostly lumbermen or the solitary people living in the woods. She knew them all. Ralph and his wife, old Pete, Hal with the blue truck, nine-finger-Eddie, cranky Sue with the even crankier cat.

But today, at 9:50, just as she took a bite of her late morning snack, a tall man in leather jacket entered her salesroom. He didn't look like he was from here. He looked good. Well groomed, with trimmed beard and clean fingernails. At least at his left hand, because he wore a black glove on his right.

She glanced out of the window, seeing his motorbike. A black Harley Davidson. And next to it another bike, and two young men hugging and kissing at gas pump number three. They had both longish hair, helmets hooked over their arms, wearing leather jackets as well. She was so perplexed by the sight, that she forgot to chew her homemade apple tart.

"It's really nice out here." Negan put a red tick remover and a box of tic tacs on the counter. "Spectacular view."

Harriette coughed on a tart crumb, her cheeks blushing in deep embarrassment as she was caught staring. "Did you-" She coughed again, then cleared her throat, a wave of deliciously musky cologne wafting up her nose. "Did you fill up twice?" She risked a glance at the attractive stranger and immediately cast her eyes down when he looked directly into her face. "Your bikes?" Holy moly, he was handsome. He was certainly an actor or one of these charismatic TV evangelists. Maybe he could heal her rheumatism.

"Sure did." Negan purred, amused by the smudge of apple filling on the woman's cheek.

"That's then..." Harriette hammered her finger onto the old cash register but it wouldn't cooperate, just like her brain. "Uhm- about 65... 63-"

Negan put a hundred dollar note onto the counter, slid it very close towards the sales lady, almost touching her hand-knitted sweater. "Keep the change, honey." He said it in his best bedroom voice, winked at her and left the old gas station with his tic-tacs and tick remover, making the rusty bells at the door jingle.

Harriette stared after him, her heart deciding to beat again, after it just had experienced the most exciting moment of its existence, right after the big Sasquatch sighting of 1989.  

The stranger went outside and the rest of the apple tart slid right out of her fingers onto the floor, when her beautiful, tall customer went up to the young gay couple, kissed first the one with the tousled hair and then the one looking like Jesus Christ. She blinked, her mouth hanging open. She had heard of such things, but it was the first time that she saw men interacting like that. With her own eyes. In real life. And just like 1989 with the Sasquatch, nobody would believe her, because of course, she had no photo camera.

----

The one hour drive up through the winding roads of North Georgia leading to the Upper Chattahoochee River Campground, made clear that vacationers had left civilization far, far behind.

Negan wasn't surprised, Daryl absolutely loved it, and Jesus wrinkled his nose, looking suspiciously around as they parked their bikes in the middle of the woods, next to a shabby lodge.

"I don't know, don't you think they have bears here or something?" He tugged the pants out of his ass crack, then rubbed his buttocks because they were a little numb after all this driving.

"Hm." Daryl nodded, sure that a lot of black bears lived near by. And wolves. Maybe even a boar. He looked at Negan, sniffing his nose. "Can we go huntin'?"

"May you kill a fucking bear?" Negan put his helmet onto the handlebar and pulled his glove off. "No. You made sandwiches and don't have a hunting permit." He patted his jacket down in search for his Ray Bans, and then headed towards the small cabin, snapping his fingers. "Chop chop."

Daryl wanted to argue that they could freeze the meat and no real redneck ever had a license to hunt, but Negan had already vanished inside the wooden house, and obviously expected him to follow, so he obeyed because even in the woods he wanted to make a blue cross on his list in the evening.

"Wait!" Paul jogged after them, glancing back over his shoulder when he heard something that sounded exactly like a wild animal planning to eat him.

"What do you mean you have no free fucking campsite!" Negan didn't seem happy, gesturing outside the window. "What do you call all that free fucking space out there!"

"Well, ya see..." Old Pete scratched his butt. "We have a first come, first serve basis, alright? All our 34 sites are taken tonight. You could try again tomorrow, or maybe next-"

Negan held his hand up, having heard enough. He sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Boys. Change of plans." He waved two fingers. "Go, park the bikes and get our stuff."

----

Daryl thought hiking in the wilderness was awesome. The air was rich and damp, with a fragrance of leaves and loam, the ground smooth under heavy leather shoes, the light of the early spring sun filtered by the tree foliage on each side of the trail.

After the first hour, Negan's phone connection got so bad that he gave up on his business talks, cursed loud enough to startle a small swarm of prettily colored birds, and then tugged his useless piece of technology into the back pocket of his grey denims.

Daryl liked that, nodding to the left with a shy comment. "'t was brown jays."

Negan gave his sub a side glance. "Is that so."

"Hm." Daryl nodded, watching his old shoes on dry leaves. "They eat lizards, ya know." He sniffed his nose.

A smirk moved over Negan's face. "Now I do. "     

----

After 78 minutes of walking through the woods of Georgia, Paul Rovia sighed, kicking a small pine cone against a tree. "Are we there yet?" He wasn't too excited. Everything here looked exactly the same.

"No." It was the eighth time in twenty minutes that Negan answered the same question, and therefore sounded a bit annoyed.

"But I am hungry and this backpack is really heavy."  Paul hunched his shoulders.

"I can take it." Daryl was afraid they would turn around or stop, and he really didn't mind to carry some more equipment. He could even carry Jesus because he wasn't very heavy.

"No." Negan reached out to grab Paul's hand, squeezed it once and then dragged him along. "Paul can do it alone and you are busy spelling fucking poison sumac for me."

Daryl suppressed a sigh, continuing on his task. "S. U-"

Negan nodded, wrapping his other hand around Daryl's fingers.

----

After almost three hours of hiking, hearing everything about the native flora and fauna from boy number one, while boy number two looked more miserable by the minute, Negan decided that he had tired his subs out enough and it was time to set up camp. On a rather nice spot near a small river.

"That's not how it looked on the fucking package. Try again." He sat down, arms crossed behind his head, leaning relaxed against a tree, while Jesus presented their meek shelter for the night.

"What?" Paul slouched his shoulders, whining. "But why? It is..." He searched for the right word, looking at the wrinkled, flappy tent he had built with his own hands. "Cute. It has personality."

"I am fucking horny and want a good solid fuck tonight. This thing won't last a minute. So try the fuck again."

Paul sighed, putting his hands on his hips when the tent collapsed as on cue into a jumble of sticks and canvas. "I could just blow you under that tree, you know."

----

Thirty minutes later, Daryl Dixon came back from his mission with a big load of fire wood and built the tent without any problems, not even needing the Chinese instruction leaflet.

"Are you unwell?" Negan brushed his scruff along Paul's cheek, noticing how hot and sweaty he was.

"No. Just warm today, Sir." Jesus closed his eyes, leaning back against a broad, safe shoulder. He loved sitting between Negan's legs, being held by strong arms and surrounded by a familiar scent. The stream gurgled in the background, he could hear some birds and a gentle breeze rustling the leaves somewhere above him. He really wanted to sleep.

"It's not that warm." Negan stroked his fingertips up and down his sub's arm, watching his other boy expertly building their night's lodging.

"Hm." Paul turned his head, hiding his face against the side of Negan's neck. "Don't worry, Sir."

Negan didn't say anything, leaning his chin against slightly sweaty hair.

----

Daryl stopped chewing, looking expectantly at Negan who took the first bite of his self made gluten free, mortadella-cheese sandwich.

Negan squinted, the taste of peanuts spreading on his tongue. "Did you use peanut butter?"

Daryl flicked his head to get some hair out of his eyes. "Yes." Because he really liked the small crunchy pieces.

Mortadella and cheese together was already a very adventurous combination, but topped off with peanut butter, Negan had to force himself to swallow. "Mhm. Somebody made awesome puppy sandwiches." But it was the first time that Daryl had made something all by himself in the kitchen without instructions, so he smirked and ate it anyway. It wasn't too bad after the third bite.

A small smile spread over Daryl's face, sitting cross legged next to the fire he had built for his owner. "Hm." It was him. He had made them and they were really awesome. Better than the pile of food on the cruise ship.

"Sweet." Jesus came back from a tinkle-break, plopping down next to Daryl, grabbing a sandwich to devour it in five big bites. He could have eaten a horse. "Ish shat peanut butter?" He loved the combination. It was a keeper for Daddy's cook book.

"Hm." Daryl nodded proudly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, because he hadn't brought the red hanky to keep luggage down.

"What took you so long." Negan gave his sub a serious look.

Paul shrugged. "I tried to piss but it's hard when you're watched the whole time." He chuckled, grabbing another sandwich.

Daryl sniffed his nose, not sure whether Jesus was joking. "Who watched."

Jesus chuckled again, his mouth full. "I think it was Bambi."

Daryl stared at him for a moment, then snorted, "Yeah right." and got up to get some water out of the backpack for Negan, because he forgot to serve something to drink.

Negan gave boy number two a long look, not saying anything.

----

In the early evening, the peaceful scenery was roughly disturbed by sudden shouting. Male voices, down by the shallow stream. One furious, one more confused than defensive.

"Why did you take it! You know I can't sleep now!" Jesus stood barefoot in the clear water, angrily tucking a strand of long hair behind his ear.

Daryl made a step back, first sniffed his nose, then gestured with his forearm. "Didn't take your toothbrush." He meant to speak louder but the whole situation really stressed him out. He didn't know why Jesus was so angry. He hadn't even seen the man's toothbrush.

"Of course you did, you're the only one here!" Paul kicked the water, not sure what to do with himself. He was short from exploding. Everybody knew he couldn't sleep with unbrushed teeth! Why would Daryl tease and mock him like that!

"HEY!" Negan appeared at the muddy streambank, flaring his nostrils. "What the hell is going on here!"

Daryl lowered his gaze immediately, blinking rapidly through his long bangs.

Jesus blinked as well, but more as if he had difficulties to see properly, before he clenched his fists, kicking the water again. He turned away, grumbling something under his breath.

It sounded a lot like, 'Daddy's favorite', and the expression on Negan's face got as cold and deathly as his voice. "Daryl." He snapped his fingers. "Go, wait over there for me." He touched the man's shoulder gently as he walked by, then went another step closer to the water, pointing down. "You. Here. Now."

Jesus gave an angry snort, spat into the water, said something incomprehensible to no one in particular and after twenty seconds followed the order and took his place right in front of Negan, with crossed arms, glaring at the man's slightly dirty biker boots.  

"This is your fucking birthday trip." Negan's voice was dangerously low. "Tell me one good reason why you are behaving like an asshole. Towards my boy." He leaned another inch closer. "Towards me."

Jesus was trembling. First with rage, then with guilt, then with something he couldn't classify, but whatever it was, it made his eyes teary and his throat tight.

Negan saw it, gritting his teeth. "Eyes on me."

Paul raised his head, wanting to apologize, punch someone and run away all at the same time.

"Don't think I am blind, boy." Negan held grim eye contact. "Don't think I am stupid." He reached around his sub, pulling a blue toothbrush out of the back pocket of his jeans, holding it up for the man to see. "Time out. One hour. Use it to think about a damn good way to apologize."

----

"Good boy." Negan put a tic-tac between pale pink lips, the word CAMPFIRE correctly written into the ground between his feet.

The fire crackled in the middle of the campsite, projecting long shadows on the surrounding area. The light cast by the flames danced across the dark trunks of the trees, twisting and curling in obscure shapes, providing a small radius of light, red sparks swirled through the cool evening air. It was mesmerizing to watch, but something else held Daryl's attention for almost an hour now. The young man kneeling completely still in front of the tent, his eyes cast down submissively.

Daryl blinked in his direction, flicking the longish hair out of his eyes as he bit the tiny treat in half with a clicking sound. It tasted like oranges and he wanted to give half of it to Jesus.

Negan patted the log he was sitting on. "Come here the ground gets cold."

Daryl didn't think it was cold, but he got up anyway and sat down next to Negan, putting both hands on the man's thigh. "Can he come now." His question was quiet and didn't sound very polite, but Negan answered it anyway.

"Two more minutes. You may start on your report in the meantime."

"Okay." Daryl gave the kneeling figure in the half dark a last glance before he got his phone out and started to type, knowing he would have a lot of things under 'Like' today.

Negan ruffled his sub's hair and rose to his feet, stretching his tired legs. He went past Paul, put a water bottle into the tent, switched the LED lantern on and made sure the mosquito net was covering the entry. Then slowly squatted down right in front of Paul. "Time's up." He didn't say more, and didn't have to. Jesus dropped his head instantly against his chest, apologizing profoundly.

"I'm sorry, Sir, I didn't mean to." Every word was deeply repentant, sad and guilty, spoken into a thick grey sweater with Leather Factory logo. "I forgot it was in my pocket. I'm sorry I yelled at him, I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Mh." Negan put a hand to the back of Paul's head, kissing his hair. "Nothing. You're forgiven. Go hug Daryl and report."

Jesus closed his eyes, clawing ten fingers into Negan's shirt, refusing to let go just yet. "I don't report anymore."

Negan squinted, grasping the man's chin to tilt it up and create eye contact. "Why not."

Paul shrugged, feeling on the brink to tears again, which made him angry. "You know."

Negan studied the unhappy face in front of him, soundly sucking his tooth as he thought about 99 creative ways to kick Rick's ass. "Hm." He nodded once, pinching his boy's bearded chin as he got up. "You report. Every night. Daryl shows you how I like it."  

----

In the pitch-black and weird silence of the night, some crickets and the crackle of the campfire was all that could be heard, like a strange natural music. The flames licking at the wood, tiny sparks dancing with the light breeze. Daryl sat in tight embrace with Paul, chest to chest, crotch to crotch. Wrapped around each others body like snake men, while Negan read two reports instead of one, enjoying a bottled, sugar-free tea.

"I'm really so sorry." Paul whispered the same apology for the twentieth time in the past hour, his face buried into soft hair and a warm neck.

And for the twentieth time, Daryl didn't know what to answer and just hummed something short and casual, because he had never been angry with Paul. He took a deep breath, liking how Jesus smelled like fresh air and fire.

A snap of fingers made them both look up. "You wanna go take a piss, undress, search for fucking ticks and present like good boys. I'm there in a minute."

Paul smiled, nuzzling Daryl's warm neck. "Mmh naked ticksearch, I like the caveman lifestyle."

----

Negan found out that twenty feet to the north, sitting on the pile of mossy logs he found there, he had a tiny bit of connection. Sometimes. When he held his arm in the right angle and didn't move. It was just enough to communicate at least with Eugene, who fought an internet war against a small, but persistent group of jealous puppy-haters.  
There wasn't much one could do, except for blocking and reporting them and every new account they created just minutes later to spew their hate and false facts.

Negan shook his head when his social media manager forwarded him another message, claiming that Daryl had pressured him into a secret marriage and they were on a honeymoon in Paris right now, at the Champs Elysees Plaza Hotel. "I fucking wish." He slapped the side of his neck once more in order to kill a mosquito, and then looked up hearing first giggles coming from the illuminated tent when Daryl tried to find ticks in Paul's armpit, then smooching noises when Paul used the opportunity to pull boy number one into a long kiss, before it grew really quiet and reverent because both were sure they had heard a growl or snarl, somewhere near the camp site.

"Oh my god what if it's wolves." Paul whispered, sitting up alarmed. Negan could see his black silhouette on the taut canvas.

"Mh." Daryl shook his head, sitting up as well. "They're scared of fire. Could be a chupacabra."

Paul huffed a laugh that sounded more nervous than amused. "But they're not real, right?"

"Hm." Daryl sniffed his nose, lying down again. "Saw one when I was huntin'."

"But don't they suck blood?" Paul's black silhouette clutched its precious neck in worry.

"Hm." Daryl was sure they did. They were almost like real life vampires.

Negan sighed, rubbing his face tiredly, and decided to close his make-shift office for now, to remind his subs of their duty to focus on much better things. Like him.
"Why the fuck are you not presenting as I asked you to." He pulled the zipper sharply, opening the tent in one go, startling both men inside.

Daryl stayed on his back but instantly pulled his legs up and let them fall to the side, while Paul flipped around into a kneeling position to raise his bare bottom.

Negan didn't comment on it. He put his boots off to leave them outside, went in, and zipped the tent back up again, briefly bending over his nervous sub as he moved to the left side. "Bad puppy." He nudged the cool tip of his nose against the man's toasty warm cheek. "Scaring the people."

Daryl didn't say anything, just put his hands up next to his head and watched how Negan smoothly pulled the grey sweatshirt over his head, then unbuckled his belt and took his pants off in the dim light of a High Gear Premium LED lantern. He looked really very handsome. His hair was a bit ruffled and he smelled good, too. Like outside and earth. He wanted to lick him.  

A faint smirk went over Negan's face, making his dark eyes sparkle. "Are you watching me, boy?" He grabbed a water bottle and drank without breaking eye contact, then screwed the cap back on, threw it somewhere to the right and got a white tube out of the backpack. It was new and still sealed.

Daryl held his breath when Negan opened it, and then spread his legs a little more because he knew exactly what was coming.

"That's right, you wanna show me everything." Negan spread a good amount of lube along a warm crack, "Push out." but squeezed the major content right up his sub's hole, wanting him as slick and wet as possible.

Daryl gasped, staring at the tall man hovering over him, wishing he would take his underwear off.

Negan smiled, speaking in low tone. "Give me your hand." He wagged his brows when Daryl complied insecurely and squeezed a little smudge of lube onto the man's palm, then bent down and spat, adding his saliva to the mix. "You wanna be good and stroke that sweet puppy dick for me, right?" He adored the immediate blush and consternation displayed on a pretty face, but didn't plan to discuss his decision and went on to boy number two, tickling the back of his thigh. "Turn around."

Paul did, moving to lie on his back as well, his face soft and relaxed. "Did you have connection, Sir?"

"A bit." Negan held eye contact, lubing his sub up, blindly. First between warm buttocks, then emptied almost the entire rest of the tube by squeezing it directly up a willing entrance. He threw the lube aside and bent down over the naked body, very close, their noses almost touching. "Thank you so much for reporting, boy. You did good." The instant childlike joy and pride in blue eyes made Negan angry and think of a 100th way to kick his employee's unreliable butt. But he shoved the feelings into the back of his head, somewhere near all the other crap he would deal with later on, and rewarded Paul with the kiss he deserved. Gentle and loving. "You wanna touch yourself for me?" He received a nod and devoted 'Yes, Sir.' as an answer, quietly spoken against his lips. He kissed again, "Good boy. Watch me." before he went back to Daryl, finding him crushed and unsettled in a heap of Vango Deluxe sleeping bags. "Did you report for me as well?"

Daryl nodded, "Yes." glad that the tall angry man remembered it, because it was a really good report.

"Yes, you did." Negan moved partly on top of Daryl, grabbing his shy hand to stroke a completely abandoned penis together. "Seven likes. Seems puppy had a really great day here in the woods." He licked the corner of the man's mouth. "Hm? Tell me."

Daryl nodded again, his eyes closed in shame and pleasure, when both of their hands moved up and down his shaft.

"Mhm." Negan dipped his tongue briefly between pale pink lips. "You wanna say it. What did you like best."

"The ride." Daryl arched his back, a firm thumb playing expertly with his slit. "'n you."

"Oh yes?" Negan purred against his sub's ear and moved his hand down to finger a slicked up hole. "What did you like about me? That I peed with you against a tree?" He circled the muscle and pushed a finger through, earning a gasp and little moan. "Or that I washed your gorgeous puppy butt down by the stream." He licked a warm neck, then scraped it with his teeth. "Was that so nice, sweetheart?"

"Yes." Heat and tingles spread all through Daryl's body, making his breathing heavy and blood pulse in his ears. He had liked it all so much and really would have preferred to have much more than a finger inside him right now.

Negan growled low in his throat when five clumsy fingers reached blindly for his bulge, trying to get inside his briefs. "Naughty puppy, are you missing my dick?"

"Mh." Daryl nodded, breathing hot and damp against the scruff below Negan's jawbone, spreading his thighs wider for better access when a second finger entered him.

"Yeah? You want me to fuck you here in the woods?" Negan got a clear 'Yes' for an answer that sounded whiny and almost desperate. "Yes, you do, horny boy." He worked his underwear down, grabbed his sub and turned him onto the side, pulling him flush against his chest to spoon him. "Open your eyes, puppy." He brushed a pale ear with rough beard. "Look how nice and hard my Paul is."

Daryl blinked his eyes open, seeing nothing but needy lust on Paul's face.

"Isn't that pretty." Negan lifted Daryl's leg, nudging the tip of his cock against the man's hole, making it twitch. "You think he likes watching us?"

"Hh." Daryl nodded, reaching two fingers out to touch Jesus, and then squeezed his eyes shut with a deep groan when something big and hard pushed into him, filling him slowly.

"Yes, he does." Negan confirmed, his voice hoarse and heavy. "Makes his cock drip to watch me fuck my puppyboy." He pulled back an inch, just to press in again a second later, all the way this time, burying himself into the clenching heat of his sub, panting into tousled hair. "Fucking tight hole."

The special angle and sudden fullness had Daryl mewl and writhe. He grasped his cock and squeezed it, feeling as if he would cum on the spot.

"Yeah, good boy making some noise for me." Negan groaned dark and low, holding Daryl's leg in tight grip as he started to move, rocking his hips in long, deep thrusts, loving every uninhibited sound he created. "Telling me how good it feels, don't you."

Daryl sobbed and choked on a whimper, craning his head back into the safe solid body holding him.

"Yeah? Is that true..." Negan cooed, thrusting harder, caressing Daryl's neck with tongue and teeth. "Sweet boy, spreading your legs for me so nicely." He circled his hips, pressing in deep. "What a fucking nice service." He reached over, pulling Paul closer, hooking his right leg over himself and Daryl, effectively spreading him open nice and wide.

Jesus gasped, arching his back, feeling two fingers entering him to massage his insides, while a firm thumb provided pressure from the outside, finding the magic spot between his balls and hole to increase the pleasure.

"Go on boy, show me some nice puppy licking with my Paul." Negan slowed his hips, seeing Daryl leak excessively. He didn't want him to cum just yet. "You wanna give him nice kisses for me." He watched his sub's confusion, felt him clench his inner muscles in search for more friction that would send him over the edge, before he parted his lips and immediately directed his unfulfilled lechery onto the warm, willing mouth he found, groaning deeply. "Yeah, good job, Daryl, that's what I wanna see." Negan kept his hips still and instead concentrated on fingering boy number two, enjoying the rampant affection his subs shared. He crooked his fingers, spread them and watched as his hand was fucked shamelessly, while Paul stroked himself towards release, his other hand deeply buried into Daryl's long hair, holding him in place.

Negan pulled his fingers back out. "Give me your hand, puppy." He bit Daryl's earlobe, circling his hips slightly. "You wanna be a good helper for me." He nuzzled the man's neck and shoulder, guiding his tense hand down between Paul's legs, then lined two of Daryl's fingers up with his own, pressing against a slick entrance.

Distracted, Jesus raised his head to glance down, "Oh God..." and instantly let it fall back again with a groan, when he realized what Negan did. He pushed out, spreading his legs wider, "Please."

"Mhm... look how much he wants you." Negan spoke against Daryl's neck, feeling the man's hand relax as he pushed them both past the loose ring of muscle, and then rocked his hips rewardingly when he heard his sub groan at the new sensation. "Good boy, Daryl. Are you fingering my Paul so nicely?" He moved both of their fingers slowly back and forth, then crooked them against a specific spot, making Jesus sob and whine. "What does it feel like, tell me."

Daryl tried to turn his head, searching for Negan in the strange new situation. He found a warm jaw and familiar scruff. "'s soft." He liked how Jesus felt inside, all wet and hot and nudged his fingertips into the slick tissue and the kind of solid marble underneath.

"It is soft." Negan agreed, massaging Paul's inner walls with Daryl's fingers. "Look at you being such a great helper."

Daryl let out a choked grunt when the crook of his neck was bitten and a rock hard cock thrust deep into him. Again and again, in a steady, driving rhythm, making his penis drip and twitch. He panted, mumbling his owner's name, searched for Negan's lips, found Paul's instead and moaned deeply when he tasted tongue and spit that wasn't his own.

"Yeah, you love being fucked, don't you." Negan hissed into slightly sweaty hair, increasing his thrusts and his massage technique, making both of his boys moan and whimper into their kiss. "Look at that. Fucking pretty sluts." He knew Paul would come first, feeling him tense and tremble, then clench around their fingers before he verbalized his ecstasy very audibly. Daryl followed him two very precisely aimed thrusts later, seeming surprised and absolutely overwhelmed as he tore his mouth from Paul's face and turned to find Negan as if he wanted to report what happened. Negan stared at his sub, dazed, lips parted, showing the slightest crook of a smile when he shot his own load, releasing a deep groan and chuckle, Daryl's pulsing heat sucking his orgasm right out of him. He growled, devouring the wet silk of his sub's mouth almost aggressively, then pulled Paul close to do the same. "You like sweet puppy fingers up your ass, boy?"

Jesus nodded, his face red and sweaty, having difficulties to keep his eyes open and focused. "Yes, Sir."

"Mhm." Negan kissed him again, moving Daryl's fingers into his overstimulated prostate, making him hiss and his entire body jerk. "Happy birthday. New permanent addition to your puppy snuggles."

----

It was still early, barely sunrise, when Paul sneaked back into the warm tent after a much needed piss break, wearing just his Daddy's large shirt around his hips for cover. He felt much better now. Calm and relaxed. His pulse back to normal, his head quiet.

He didn't close the zipper entirely, liking the fresh morning air.   

He put the tiny foil package back into the bag, underneath a pack of paper tissues where nobody would look, and knelt on the soft sleeping bag, studying Negan's sleeping face. Relaxed and beautiful, his dark eyes closed, silky long lashes resting against his flawless skin.

His heart ached with the love and guilt he felt, poking into his guts like blunt knifes.

Daryl's smaller frame was curled up underneath Negan's arm, against his side, as if in search for protection. His face pale, except for slightly blushed cheeks, his lips parted, his hair a wonderful brown chaos.

For a second Paul thought he could dress and prepare breakfast, get the fire back on and maybe find the small brown frog that Daryl had been chasing unsuccessfully through their small camp yesterday. He could wake them up with a kiss and blowjob, make them smile first thing in the morning.

But then he didn't. Because doing all that would mean that the day started and they would go back to real life. Back to Atlanta. Back to reality. And the thought alone made him nauseous.

So he lay back down, as close as he could to Negan's side, using him as a barrier between himself and the world he didn't want to see. He closed his eyes, inhaling the familiar scent of skin and safety, wishing they could sleep forever, just like that. Not in a house, not in real life, but somewhere in the woods of Georgia. Naked, free and happy.

Chapter Text

Mrs Monroe was at the door again for the third time this week, wanting to know when the Grimes-Walshe's would finally do something about their unweeded, unmown, shaggy front yard, and the neglected apple tree behind the house. Once it had been the jewel of their garden, planted by Mister Grimes himself with a lot of love and care. But now it was in no state to be the jewel of anything. The bark had a sort of creeping mildew and the leaves were curled in an unhealthy way. Mrs Monroe was quite certain that it would infect her expensive plants next door.

From the ferocity of her vent, Paul could only guess how important the whole matter was to her, probably kept her up at night. He listened without interruption, patiently as he always did, and in the end promised to do everything in his power to get the job done as soon as possible. She didn't seem convinced but agreed anyway to give it a bit more time. Two days.

"No problem, Deanna." Paul waved after her, smiling sweetly before he threw the door shut with a shake of his head. God, he hated that woman. She acted like she was the supervisor of the neighborhood, poking her nose into everything, and especially into ground and garden maintenance. Like the Stasi. It was so annoying.

... and reached a new level when just a minute later it knocked again. Paul cursed, gritted his teeth and turned around, his nostrils flaring slightly when he yanked the door open. "I just told you I will-" He stopped mid-sentence, eyes wide. It wasn't Deanna.

"Hi Chipmunk." Shane smiled almost shyly, rubbing the back of his head.

Jesus tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, wrapping an arm across his chest. "Hi." There he was. One of his Dads. The funny one. The strict one who set the rules in their house. The one who made the days more exciting and nights really hot. The one who used to make the best waffles for breakfast, knew the dirtiest jokes, and cuddled him like a big Teddy bear when times were bad.

The one who had destroyed everything in the end. Just like that.

"Can I come in?"

And after twenty seconds of silence, just like that, Paul made a step back, pushing the door open.

----

The roles seemed reversed.

The man sitting on the couch smelled like Shane, he kind of looked like him, too. A bit thinner, his hair grown out, almost long enough to curl at the ends. But it wasn't the man Paul knew. He wasn't cocky and confident. He wasn't aggressive. He didn't tell jokes or gripping stories. He didn't use the entire space the couch had to offer just with his proprietary presence. He didn't spark the urge to submit and kneel.

He seemed defeated and insecure. Awkward. Didn't search eye contact and only talked about negligibilities. He seemed like the one seeking guidance and protection, not like the one giving it.

The roles were reversed and it scared Paul shitless. It made him nauseous. It made him sad. It made him feel sorry and guilty for every bad thought and every time he ran away instead of helping. It made him realize that he was maybe the bad guy here. The one who had abandoned the family.

"You want something to drink?" He hoped the answer would be yes, desperately needing the opportunity to be good and of use.  

But Shane didn't answer the question. His brown eyes seemed lost and showed a hint of fear as he got up, looked around the room, anywhere but at Paul. "Look." He gestured, fighting with his courage and emotions. He put a hand on his hip. His gaze dropping to the floor. "Boy... Paul." A crooked smile flickered for the split of a second over his face before it disappeared again. He took a deep breath, frustrated with himself. "There's no excuse for what... I don't know why I..."

Paul got up as well, feeling too small and vulnerable sitting in his Dad's armchair. He wrapped both arms around his chest, wishing he would wear his coat.

Shane exhaled, rubbing his forehead. "I really want to apologize." He managed to glance up, sniffing his nose. "I'll never forgive myself. And I don't expect you to do it, I hope you know that." It was the voice of a broken man. It didn't sound dishonest or like some lame excuse. It sounded like the most genuine words ever spoken.

It crushed Paul's heart. He felt suffocated. He couldn't look up and couldn't say anything. But he could step forward and let his forehead fall against a muscular chest. His body went slack when impossibly strong arms pulled him close. Enclosed him so tight and safe, it didn't take his breath away but let him breathe for the first time in months. He felt lips on his hair, a large hand on the back of his head, allowing him to be weak and small and sad. Relieved. Hopeful that all would be good and right again. That the bad times were over and the ground would stop shaking.

Shane inhaled deeply, pulling his arms tighter as he closed his eyes, holding their boy as close as humanly possible. He had forgotten how fragile and small he was. How breathtakingly beautiful, inside and out. Worth every minute in rehab.   

----

"Will that be enough for the old frump?" Shane turned the old lawn mower off, wiping his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand.

The grass was so short, the ground showed through. The moss scuffed, rolling away from the soil like a carpet, its once strong greens yellowing in the surprisingly hot sun of May.

"Will do." Paul stood back, satisfied with their work. Grass cut like that took a far longer time to grow back, the shorter the better. No Stasi-visits for a few weeks. He smiled, his eyes sparkling when Shane smirked back at him. Doing gardening work with one of his Dads at the weekends had always been one of his most favorite activities. It was so suburban, so normal, so stereotyped. Raking leafs, watering plants, cleaning the pool, listening to Rick bickering about the unprofessionally trimmed lawn edges and footprints in the flowerbeds. It was better than a trip to Disneyworld ever could be.

He dumped another load of leaves, sticks and dead flowers onto the compost pile. "Hope the tree won't die. Looks really sick."

Shane picked at the bark, rubbed a leaf between his fingers and squinted when he examined the treetop. "Nah. Needs just a bit tender loving care."     

----

"Who is this?" Rick squinted, steering the car one-handedly through the evening rush hour. He took the phone off his ear and looked again at the number. It was Negan's. But most definitely not his voice. "Simon?"

Daryl scowled, biting the side of his finger. He hated to speak on the phone. "Nah." He hated even more that Negan had left the room, expecting him to solve the problem like a good helper. "Where's the last Scandal."

Rick turned into his street, squinting even harder at the rough voice and rude tone. "What? Daryl is that you?"

"Hm." Daryl sniffed his nose. Loud, because he had no tissue. "Can't find the last Scandal."

"The bed restraints?" Rick smiled weakly, lifting two fingers off the steering wheel when Jessie Anderson left the house to take the trash out. "I put them aside for a customer."

"Hm." Daryl knew that. That's why he called.

Rick sighed, seeing Paul's skateboard and the lawn mower in the middle of the driveway. "Can I talk to Negan?" He parked on the street.

"No."

"What is... I-" He sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Whatever. It is in the staff room on the blue box next to the door." He got a gruff 'thanks' for an answer before it rustled in the line and the call was disconnected. He shook his head, cleaned the display of his phone with his sleeve and got out of the car, gathering the grocery bag from the passenger seat.

Deanna Monroe from next door stuck her head out of the kitchen window, seeing her neighbor arriving back home from work. "Paul forgot the lawn mower in the driveway!" She really despised clutter in public places.

"Yes, Mrs Monroe." Rick tried his best to hide his annoyance but wasn't very successful. "I can see that." All he wanted was a nice hot shower and a quiet evening with his boyfriend. "Good night, Mrs Monroe." He took the bag onto the other arm and searched for the key, needing three attempts to open the door, because the lock was jammed.

"Paul!" He went right into the kitchen to unpack the groceries, raising his voice. "Your stuff is still outside! Are you trying to kill someone? I told you a hundred times you can't leave your skateboard in the driveway!" He took a closer look at the cottage cheese he had bought, seeing that it was already past its expiration date. "Great." He dumped it into the trash bin and shut the fridge, "Paul!" leaving the kitchen to check why he was talking to himself. "Did you hear what I just said? Somebody will trip over that thing and break their god damn neck, if you-" He stopped two steps into the living room, forgetting everything he wanted to say. Shane sat on the couch. All relaxed and smiling, talking to Paul who sat cross legged on the coffee table with a bottle of cherry juice. "What's going on."

"Hi." The relaxed smile fell right off Shane's lips. "I hope you don't mind. We're just catching up ab-"

"I thought you come tomorrow." Rick crossed his arms, taken by surprise.

Shane got up, seeing the discomfort on his partner's face. "They needed my room and I thought a day earlier makes no difference."

"You could have called." Rick backed away when Shane came closer and reached out to touch him.

"You're right." Shane grimaced at the dismissive tone. "I'm sorry." He looked around for a jacket or keys that he didn't bring in the first place. "I'll go. It's late anyway." A fake smile curved his lips and vanished as fast as it had appeared. He turned around, waving weakly at Jesus. "Thanks for the afternoon, chipmunk. It was nice to-"

"You don't have to go." Rick's eyes flickered from left to right, not sure where to look. He wrapped his arms around himself, covering the dried coffee stain on his denim shirt.

"Sure? Maybe it's better if-"

"Paul. Your stuff is in the driveway." Rick didn't want to talk. Not in front of his boyfriend. Maybe not at all.

"Oops." Paul hopped off the coffee table, kissing Rick's cheek as he passed by. "Sorry." He liked that there wasn't a big happy smoochfest between his Dads. He liked Rick's aloofness. It was because of him, he knew that. It was a form of protection. It made him feel all warm and happy, even when Mrs Monroe came out of the house, wearing an ugly, grey old women's cardigan against the cool evening temperatures,  just to tell him that the apple tree was still a problem.

----

A while after midnight, the room smelled like men, sweat and sex. The bed was a mess, three pillows on the floor, even the one Carl had made at school some years ago for fathers day. The bottle of lube that had been forever on the nightstand was finally empty. Three condom wrappers were scattered on the thick carpet between pieces of underwear, socks and shirts. Two of his Dads were sound asleep, one partly on top of the other, naked and all peaceful, like none of the horrible stuff had ever happened.

Paul sat up, dried saliva and cum somewhere between his neck and shoulder. He couldn't sleep. He didn't wear a clean pajama, the breakfast table for next morning wasn't set and the toilet lid in the bathroom wasn't down. He hadn't even washed himself or brushed his teeth. But that was okay. Nobody cared.

There hadn't been punishment for the skateboard in the driveway and no reward for the cut grass. It wasn't even mentioned anymore. Just like the laundry he had forgotten in the washing machine, and the bottle of cherry juice he had put on the expensive coffee table without a coaster. On purpose.

He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and quietly opened the small drawer of the nightstand. It was still there, his pretty broad leather collar, well worn by now, but neglected for a long time. Nobody asked him to put it on anymore. Nobody seemed to remember it, just like the other things in the drawer. An old chapstick, cough drops and a French workbook.

He stared at the collection of outdated stuff, then took everything out, grabbed his phone and went into the bathroom, locking the door.    

It was warm and smelled like mint and aftershave. He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked well used. But he didn't feel like it.

He washed his face and the dried cum off his neck. He brushed his teeth. He used the abandoned chapstick. He popped a red cough drop into his mouth, watched himself doing it and hesitated a moment before he opened the medicine cabinet, getting the new bottle of pills out that nobody had noticed until now. He had written PAUL on it with thick black marker, and the pills inside were all of different shape and color, some with imprints, some without. All serving the same purpose. He took one, blue with a small bird, and watched himself in the mirror again as he ate it. Swallowing it along with the cough drop. He could feel the latter sliding down his throat. The small blue pill went with it unnoticed.

He took the collar and didn't watch himself this time as he wrapped it around his neck, buckled it up blindly beneath his long hair. And when he found the courage to raise his head and face his reflection in the mirror, he thought he looked pretty. He looked like Paul Rovia. The real one. The one who was forgotten and unwanted. Not needed anymore.
The one who had to hide in the bathroom nowadays, feeling guilty and ashamed about his needs and desires.

He threw a towel on the floor and sat down, flipping through the French workbook. It was used up to page 13, corrected with a red sharpy, proud words of praise underneath each exercise. It was before one of his Dads had lost the interest in a bilingual sub and the hassle of learning vocabularies each night got an imposition.

Section 1 - Basic stuff - Times and dates

Q3: Write out these dates in French:

14th March
1st July
27th January
18th February
3rd August
25th December

Jesus didn't even have to think much, he knew the answers on page 14. It made him feel proud and humiliated at the same time. He closed the book, taking his phone to write a message.

Good: I cut the grass, I served my Dads in bed, I learned French dates, I washed and brushed my teeth

Bad: I forgot my skateboard outside, I didn't use a coaster on the coffee table, I didn't finish the laundry, I don't wear a pajama, I ate candy after brushing my teeth, I didn't set the table for breakfast, I didn't close the toilet lid

Like: I liked gardening work

He stared at the word 'Hate', instantly thinking of a million things he wanted to mention. But each one of them made him a needy, selfish prick, so he wrote just one thing, that wouldn't expose him as the egomaniacal prick he was.

Hate: I haven't seen you all day

The last point on the list was even worse. Because he wanted to change it all. He wanted to be good again. He wanted to be useful and make his Dads proud. He wanted to be allowed to be himself again. He didn't want to feel like a heavy burden anymore to the people who he loved most. But he couldn't say that without being one. So he wrote something else.

Change: The old cow next door. She is so annoying.

Daddy? He came back today.

Sending the report didn't feel good. It felt wrong. Like harassing someone who certainly had a long hard day at work, and now would have to read all this bullshit and whining, a report about a grown man's incompetence.

For a moment he wished there would be a 'No stop! Come back!' button on his ridiculously expensive smart phone, but of course there wasn't such a thing and he put the phone aside, hoping Negan would sleep already and not see his silly message. He curled up on the towel in front of the heater, petting the broad collar around his neck as he felt his candy slowly kick in. Finally.

It was quiet for a long time. An hour maybe or just ten minutes, hard to say. But Paul's stomach tingled in a really warm, very thankful way as he heard the wonderful sound of his phone vibrating on cool tiles, knowing it was one of the special people in his life.

The amount of neediness leaping out of his guts as soon as he pushed the button and heard a deep, steady voice talking to him was almost painful. He wanted to crawl through the phone, beg for a hug so strong it would crush his bones. His throat got tight, his eyes welled up. He listened to every comforting word like it was the only thing keeping him breathing. He wanted to tell about the collar, the things he really hated and the ones he wanted to change, all the things worrying him. But he didn't. He was too tired and too grateful for the attention and care he received in that moment. Because it wasn't a call for just anyone. Negan spoke to his true self.

Chapter Text

It was almost eleven in the late morning when Daryl made his way down the stairs, walking like a stork on egg shells, because the new black latex plug was wickedly curved and poked right into his prostate whenever he moved.

He pulled the heavy white door open, stilted over the gallery, down the broad metal stairs, to the empty club.

"Look, it's the boy!" Simon came from the other side, carrying a box of Ginger Ale for the bar. "Good morning!"

Daryl sniffed his nose, mumbling a shy greeting, "Hello." and quickly disappeared towards the factory's office premises, because he really didn't feel like talking right now.

Simon put his box down on the counter, grinning widely as he watched the young man stalk off, rubbing his plugged-up butt. "Ah! The Joyride 2000?" He would recognize the merchandise he sold everywhere. "Good choice, young man, good choice!"

"Hm." Daryl pulled his shoulders up, walking a bit faster around the corner and politely knocked at door number seven on the right side. He waited until he heard a deep voice saying 'Yes boy, come in.' and wondered, as always, how the tall angry man was able to see through the closed door that it was him and not the postman or Olivia. He entered quietly, closed the door behind him and walked up to the desk to crouch down on the carpet right next to the desk chair.

"What is it puppy?" Negan didn't look up from his laptop, blindly patting his sub's cheek. "Hm? Tell me."

Daryl leaned into the touch and shrugged with a small, "Hm." because apparently he had lost all his courage somewhere on the arduous walk through the staircase, and now just couldn't ask for some time in the playroom anymore.

"Hm?" Luckily Negan did not only have X-ray vision but was also a mind reader. "Are you horny?" He said it as casually as if he would talk about the weather, while ordering 300 'Firefly' Pleasure Plug trainerkits. They were Glow-in-the-dark and would sell perfectly in the summer months.

The answer 'No' was on the tip of Daryl's tongue, but lying was against the rules and he just needed one more blue cross until he had four in a row, so he exhaled quietly, shifted on his throbbing butt and looked somewhere to the left for a shy answer. "Yes."

Negan didn't laugh or mock, just took a note about stock levels on a piece of paper. "Oh yes? How come?"

Daryl shrugged again, flicking his head. "Dunno."

Negan knew, even if he was busy answering Eugene's mail. "Did you watch my new bondage demo on Youtube?"

"Hm." Daryl nestled with the fabric of his too long shirt sleeve. He had watched it. And then nine other videos from the Leather Factory channel. Negan was really pretty and his voice was so nice.

"You want to answer or spend some time in the corner?"

Daryl looked at the corner behind Negan's desk and didn't like it at all. "'watched it."  

"Yeah?" Negan flipped through some documents Rick had attached to a mail. "Did I look hot?"

Daryl nodded, glancing at Negan's highly concentrated face. "Yes."

"Mhm. Did you wriggle on the plug I gave you?"

A slight blush reddened Daryl's cheeks. He didn't want to answer, but a big strong hand reached out to blindly tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, and that was so nice that he changed his mind. "Hm, yes."

"Yeah, you did, right." Negan cupped the side of his sub's face, looking at him. "But I don't have time to play with you right now. I have a ton of fucking work to do." The immediate expression of pure dismay in blue eyes would have made him quit his job if he wouldn't have been the CEO of the company. He sighed, rubbing a pale earlobe with his thumb. "You wanna sit with me for five minutes?"

"Okay." Daryl pulled one shoulder up to rub his cheek against.

"The correct answer is 'Yes, Sir, I would love to sit with you!'" Negan moved back with his chair, patting his thigh. "Right?"

"Hm." Daryl got up and shyly sat down on Negan's lap, trying to be as light as possible. "Right."

"Good." Negan wrapped an arm around the man's waist, moving closer to the desk again. "Now tell me what you think. Should I attend this event for a demo? It's in New York at the Baccarat hotel."

Daryl stared at the pictures on the screen. A fancy hotel and the word NYFetishBall 2017. "No." His answer was short, clear and didn't sound very polite because he really didn't want Negan to perform his wonderful fisting skills anywhere but home.

"Alright." Negan pursed his lips and shrugged his shoulders as he typed a short answer to the event organizer and sent it.

Daryl glanced from the screen back over his shoulder to look at Negan and chuckled. He couldn't believe it was that easy.

Negan smirked, wagging his brows. "You fucking like that, don't you." He got a nod and happy smile for an answer. "Jealous puppy."

----

Olivia served awesome meat with white sauce and peas for lunch that she called 'chicken fricassee with wild rice'. Daryl couldn't eat as fast as his hungry stomach wanted to be filled.

"No." After the seventh rebuke Negan lost patience and snapped his fingers. "Floor. Fucking hands behind your back." He pushed with his foot against the leg of Daryl's chair, moving it backwards. "Give me that."

Daryl scowled with full cheeks but followed the order, handing the spoon over.

The handle was coated in sauce, making Negan sigh and wipe his hand into the napkin that his cleaning lady had recently monogrammed for him because she wanted to practice the new stitch she had learned at her tailoring class. "Do I want you to eat like a fucking caveman?"

Daryl grumbled something similar to a 'No' and then flinched when his chin was grasped into a tight grip and yanked up harshly for eye contact.

"I don't like your tone, boy! You wanna remember your manners or you eat in your fucking room for a week!"

"Yes." Daryl answered quietly and then flinched again startled when his chin was yanked once more.

"What!"

"Yes, Sir."

"That's better." Negan released him. "Spread your knees wider. Straight back." The order was followed immediately and he reached down, squeezing the obvious bulge in his sub's pants. "Does my plug still feel that good?"

"Yes." Daryl nodded, adding a small 'Sir' because it really did feel very good.

"Mhm." Negan stroked him through his denims. "Looks like it. You wanna eat like a good boy now and present that pretty package for me?"

Daryl shifted on his knees, his heart hammering in his chest. He wasn't hungry anymore and really wanted to do more touching, but he also wanted to be good for Negan, so he nodded obediently. "I wan'."

Negan stroked him a moment longer. "That's not how you wanna say it, though."

"I wanna be good." Daryl stared at Negan through his long bangs and added a polite 'Sir' to his improved answer, hoping it would earn him more touching, but it didn't.

"Nice answer, puppy."

Instead he got a loving pat on the cheek and a spoonful of rice.

"You wanna chew ten times for me."

It was true, Daryl wanted that and held eye contact the whole time until he swallowed and opened his mouth again for more, melting a bit inside when he was rewarded with soft, praising words.

"Oh yes, that's how good you are for me? Look at that. What a fucking sweet boy." Negan liked the smile in blue eyes and put the full spoon first into his own mouth, taking a bit off, before he fed the rest to Daryl. He winked at him and then answered his ringing phone. "Yes. What."

'This is Dr Eugene Porter, Sir. I am calling to report a red situation.'

Negan squinted, putting another spoonful between Daryl's lips. "What the fuck happened."

'We took a group of intruders into custody. They tried to take photographic evidence of Mister Dixon for their internet platform to prove his existence and your substantial connection with him.'

Daryl sniffed his nose, watching as Negan's nostrils started to flare, his expression hardening noticeably.

"Where are they now."

'We took them to number four, Sir. Should we involve prosecuting authorities or would you like to handle matters your own way.'

"I'm there in a minute." Negan hung up, feeding his sub a piece of chicken and three peas. "I have to be downstairs for a while. I want you to finish your lunch and go take a nap. We'll be at the Eagle tonight."

"I go with you." Daryl received a hard silent stare to his mumbled statement, causing him to shrink a few inches deeper into the expensive hardwood floor and change his declaration. "I nap."

"Yes, you do." Negan confirmed, his brows furrowed. He handed his sub the plate. "You eat on the fucking floor, on your best fucking behavior, put the dishes into the sink and sleep like a good boy! No touching your dick!"

Daryl blinked through his tousled hair, moving an inch back. "Hm."  

Negan got up, putting a hand to the back of Daryl's head and bent down to kiss his hair. "You may serve me later if you're good."

Daryl watched him leave, heard the door fall shut and looked around the quiet apartment. He sniffed his nose and started to eat, holding the plate close to his mouth, chewing every bite ten times.

----

As it turned out, laura2812, leather_steff, and I.fuckin.love.Negan were already shitting their pants in the factory's empty storage room number four, long before a tall, very intimidating man with baseball bat joined them for a little private talk, between fans and idol. All three left the mighty premises of the Leather Factory thirty minutes later in one piece but a little pale around the nose, after being threatened to experience a very intimate date with either a barbed wire-wrapped baseball bat, or 'Colossus', the leather factory's new 17 inch anatomically correct horse penis dildo, should they ever dare to set foot on Negan's property again.  

Negan watched them run across the street, almost causing a collision because they didn't look for the traffic. "Fucking assholes." He really hated his job sometimes, or at least all the vexations that came with it.

"Just kids. They won't come back." Rick took the bat out of Negan's hands, patting his arm.

Negan didn't comment on it, watching through the shop window until they were out of sight. "Are you sure about the Eagle tonight."

Rick put the bat underneath the counter, making a mental note to store it back into its case later. "Yes, he said it would be okay. We'll just order water or something."

Negan didn't turn around. "That's not what I meant."

A bunch of old receipts underneath the counter caught Rick's attention. He looked through them, knowing exactly what his boss meant, but it took a while until he said something. "He wants to see everyone. A fresh start."

Negan nodded once, reaching for the door handle. "Eleven pm then."

He left for his office, working concentrated for five hours, until his back hurt and his eyes wouldn't cooperate anymore. Then he called at the store, asking for boy number two, but Rick hadn't seen him since the late afternoon. So he got up, stretched his tired muscles and went straight for the room with the Metallica poster at the door, knocked and opened half a second later, not waiting for an answer. He was greeted by 'Hotel California' on high volume and a very startled Paul.

"Hey can't you knock, man!" Jesus shoved something underneath his mountain of pillows and jumped off the bed, shouting. He wiped his nose with the back of his wrist, looking at the intruder with anger and confusion until he seemed to recognize who it was and tried to pull himself together. He huffed a soundless laugh, glancing at the floor. "Sorry, Sir. You scared me." He scratched his forehead with his thumb, shook his head and went up to hug one of his Dads. "Hello. How are you." He dug his face into the thick fabric of an expensive shirt. "Do you need me? I can clean or make dinner."

Negan didn't answer, his face hard. He looked down at unusually tousled hair and then up at the ruffled bed and the mountain of pillows.

"Did Rick tell you about the Eagle tonight? Will you come?" Paul pulled his arms tighter around a warm, safe torso. "Can Daryl come? Carol will make alcohol-free appleti-" His flood of words was interrupted by a deep, cold voice and the threat behind.    

"Tell me the rules."

The four dark words let the blood in Paul's veins freeze, his stomach clenching with nausea. The answer shot instantly into his mind. Like a bullet. No drugs, no lies, no secrets, no fucking bullshit. The rules between Negan and Paul. The agreement they made many years ago. The foundation of everything they had. Paul froze and then chuckled in a tone that was weird even to his own ears, not daring to look up. "What? I-"

"THE RULES, PAUL!"

The furious voice made Jesus angry again, guilty to the core. He scrunched up his nose and stepped back, wrapping his arms around his own slender chest, but found no comfort. "Jeez... no reason to go all Hulk." He watched his brand new Chucks on the floor, thinking he should draw something on the white rubber part. A smiley maybe or a puppy. He sniffed his nose at the second idea and mumbled his answer, sounding annoyed. "No bullshit, no drugs, no secrets, no lies. I am not demented." Iron fingers grasped his chin, pulling it up and back, allowing a clear view up his nostrils. It made him sweat.

"What happens if one of us breaks the fucking rules, Paul." Negan didn't even consider to loosen his harsh grip "Tell me."

Paul winced, trying half-heartedly to escape. "We can't be together."

Negan stared down at his sub, "Is that what you want." and saw all the rage in blue eyes melt away into fear and worry. "ANSWER! Is that what you fucking want! Because it sure isn't what I want, boy! I fucking want you by my side, happy and fucking healthy!" He held the piercing stare a moment longer, watching lips tremble and eyes well up, before he took his hand off and pulled his sub into a tight embrace.

"It's not what I want, Sir." Jesus gave his answer quietly, almost inaudible, into the warm comfort of a broad chest, hiding all the shame he was sure would be clearly visible on his face.

"You will tell me in fucking detail what's going on before May is over. You will be honest a hundred percent. You will remember your place and let me handle the problem." Negan's tone was serious but free from any anger or pity. He stroked the nape of Paul's neck, lowering his chin onto the man's hair. "I'm saying it just once.  It's the only chance you get."

Paul nodded, gratitude and relief gushing through his chest like a tsunami wave. The end of May wasn't right now. Not even next week. He would be able to end it and sort it all out, be good again and make it all right by then, no doubt. He wouldn't fail Negan and wouldn't lose him.  "Yes, Sir." He closed his eyes, feeling lips on the top of his head and returned the affection, kissing a slightly damp spot of a luxurious shirt.

"You wanna go upstairs. Wake Daryl up and get ready for the evening. I'm there in a few minutes."

----

Daryl liked being woken up by Jesus. He was always funny and smelled good. And had no problem to rummage unashamedly through Negan's wardrobe.

"I swear almost all his t-shirts are white." Paul stood on his tip toes, searching on the upper shelf for something with a little color. "Maybe he is secretly a doctor or a baker."

"Hja." Daryl chuckled, laying on his side, head propped up on his elbow. Negan would certainly be an awesome doctor.

"This one?" Paul held a tight black shirt up with the print of a red fist on the back. Negan had received it from a fan at DomCon last year.

Daryl shook his head.

"Yeah, you're probably right." Paul wrinkled his nose, flinging the shirt back into the closet. "All the horny sluts would follow him around and beg for some backroom time." It happened no matter what Negan wore, but it was probably best not to wear an advertisement on the back.

Daryl sniffed his nose. "You like Shane again?" He tried to sound as polite as possible, but didn't really understand why everyone had to celebrate with the buzz-cut-guy at the Eagle. He hadn't done anything good.

Jesus was surprised by the sudden change of topic and the noncharacteristic question. He shrugged. "Always liked him. I just didn't like what he did to Rick you know."

"'treated you like shit." Images of a night at a hotel in Washington popped up in Daryl's head, making him angry and his voice rough. "'tried to hurt you."

Paul cast his eyes down, abashed. He knew it was the truth. And it was even more true that Shane had treated Daryl very inappropriately. "I didn't forget it." He answered quietly, then put a white long sleeved shirt onto the dresser and climbed back onto the bed, kneeling in front of Daryl. He reached out, stroking long hair out of the man's face. "I hope it won't happen again, now that he was in rehab. Sometimes people do bad things but they are not really bad." He shrugged again. "Maybe he is one of them. Then he deserves another chance."

Daryl listened, scratching the inside of his index finger with his thumbnail. Maybe he was one of them, too. He got a chance from Negan after stealing and breaking into the factory. And Merle wasn't a really bad person, as well. "Hm." He nodded. Jesus was right.    

"And if he does it again, we can always run away and live in the woods." Paul smiled, rolling Daryl onto his back as he climbed on top of him. "You were fucking sexy in the wilderness. So primal." He purred like a big kitten, rolling his hips seductively. "Me likey."

"Th." Daryl huffed a laugh and averted his eyes, "Shut up." but then buried his fingers anyway into long hair when Paul lowered down to kiss his neck and cheek. Maybe they could go again next week. With Negan and more sandwiches.

----

Negan stared down, the muscles of his jaw strung taut with ecstasy, hands gripping tousled hair, pulling himself deeper as he thrust into his sub's mouth again and again. "Eyes on me." His groan vibrated through his whole body and got even louder when blue eyes locked with his, full of worship and devotion. "Fucking swallow."

The deep, husky command made Daryl's inner muscles throb. He grabbed Negan's ass with both hands and pulled him deep down his throat, whimpering at the expression on Negan's flushed face. A mixture of aggression, pure lust and adoration, as he swallowed around him, milking his orgasm out of him.  

Negan growled, grinding his quivering hips against his boy's face, wrapping his fingers painfully into soft hair. He came hard, feeling a tight, silky throat contracting around him over and over again. "God damn." He squeezed his eyes shut, throwing his head back when he heard the heavenly sound of gagging. "Yeah, that's fucking right boy." He waited another five seconds before he forced himself to pull back out, allowing Daryl to breathe.

Daryl panted, looking up obediently and parted his lips when a thumb pressed between them, pulling his jaw down.

"Open up. Did you swallow it all? " Negan copied the docile nod he received. "Yeah, was it tasty?"

Daryl mewled something incomprehensible, his muscles twitching around the plug in his butt. He looked up, sucking Negan's thumb noisily.

"Fucking horny puppyboy. What do you want. Tell me."

Daryl squeezed his aching penis, his ears and cheeks feeling hot. He smacked his lips once, then exhaled around the thumb in his mouth.

"You need to cum? Make a sweet puddle for me?" A deep chuckle emerged from Negan's throat when Daryl glanced down at his spread thighs, exposing a toilet lid wet with pre-cum. "Yeah you do, right. Look at that, you made a fucking mess already." He snapped his fingers, pointing two down at the thick white bath mat in front of the shower. "Down. On your back, like a good puppy." He ruffled his sub's hair and stepped back, watching as his order was followed and Daryl lay down on the floor, pressing his thighs together, blue eyes expectantly looking up.  

"Mhm." Negan gathered his shaving utensils, inspecting his scruff in the mirror. He needed a little trim. "Spread your legs. You wanna show Paul how nicely your dick is dripping."

Confusion flickered over Daryl's glowing features. He spread his thighs and glanced at Jesus, who knelt butt naked in the corner next to the bathtub, his eyes submissively lowered.

"Paul." Negan grabbed a fresh white towel, then snapped his fingers. "Go make him cum. No hands, no mouth."  

Clearly, Jesus hadn't expected such a treat, his head shooting up in surprise. "Really?" He got up, joining one of his Dads in front of the sink, sniffing his upper arm. "Thank you, Sir."

"Make it good." Negan kissed his sub's hair, then handed him a bottle of the lube he preferred for Daryl. "Humping. Keep your dick out of the private zone."

"Tease." Paul nipped Negan's skin with his teeth. "May I cum, Sir?"

Negan wrapped an arm around Paul's slender form, caressing his bare butt. "You wanna cum for me, boy?"

An immediate cloud of deep devotion overtook blue eyes. "Yes, Sir. I want to cum for you please." Every word spoken in low voice was dripping with pure honesty, letting Negan answer in the same manner.

"Good boy. That would be fantastic." He kissed the happy expression on his sub's face, somewhere close to his nose and patted his ass cheek. "Go on then, give me something nice to watch while I'm busy here." He glanced back over his shoulder, checking on boy number one, giving him an encouraging smile. "You wanna put your arms up, puppy." He bit back a chuckle at the speed the small order was fulfilled, his sub being eager to be just as good as Paul. "Mhm, that's exactly right. Everything displayed for my enjoyment, right?"

Daryl nodded on his place on the soft bath mat, watching Negan wrap a towel around his bare middle before he started on his beard trim.

"Sweet plug." Jesus knelt down between Daryl's legs and pushed his thighs up a little, nudging the deeply embedded plug. "Is it the new one?"

Daryl nodded again and then held his breath, glancing nervously at the man in the mirror, when Paul squeezed half a bottle of lube on his groin and throbbing dick.

Negan concentrated on the extra sharp blade on his neck. "What happens, boy? Will Paul play with you? That's so nice of him, right? You wanna tell him why you are dripping so fucking nicely."

Daryl listened, then looked from Negan to Paul, seeing him hover over him with a friendly smile. "I'm horny." He sniffed his nose to his rough answer, feeling embarrassed.

"Mhm." Negan tilted his head for a different angle. "How come he's so horny, Paul. Did you watch?"

"Yes, Sir." Jesus purred his answer, looking directly into Daryl's eyes as he moved to lie on top of him, making their bare cocks touch and slide against one another, slick and wet in a generous amount of lubricant and precum. "He was allowed to serve you. He sucked your gorgeous cock." He reached for Daryl's hands and took them into his own, left and right from Daryl's head, lacing their fingers together. "He loved it."

"Is that true, puppy, did you like my dick down your pretty throat?" Negan cleaned the blade under water and switched to an electric shaver to take just a tiny bit of length off.

"Yes." Daryl nodded, his toes curling as Paul slowly started to roll his hips, rubbing their dicks together. Everything was warm and very slippery.

"You feel so good." Jesus stared down, whispering with a faint smile, fighting for fortitude when Daryl moaned and raised his pelvis for better friction, pressing his ass into the hardness he felt. The tip of his cock slid by accident through a slick ass crack, causing him to close his eyes. "Oh god."

Negan smirked at his reflection, moving the razor over his cheek. "Does that feel nice, bugger? Tell me."

"Yes, Sir." Jesus groaned, grinding their hips together. He shivered, pressing against a wet crack, smearing his precum to the mix, sliding his dick back and forth and felt an evil solid silicone plug blocking the entrance he searched for.

Daryl whimpered, digging his fingernails into Paul's hands, then jerked one hand free and reached down to grab a firm butt cheek, trying to pull him closer somehow.

"Ah shit." Paul bit his lower lip, letting his head fall, nipping and sucking a collared neck as he started to hump with more force, thrusting with Daryl's movements. It drove him crazy, hearing him grunt, feeling him move under him, wanting release just as bad.

Negan switched his razor off, tilted his head from left to right to inspect his work, patted his face and neck down with a towel and then turned around to watch his subs groan and hump, entwined into a heap of skin and limbs. He wanted to say something when Paul broke the rule and started to french Daryl's mouth frantically, panting, burying his fingers into tousled hair. But then decided to let it pass for a moment and rather enjoy the view.  

The moment he started to interfere was when he heard a change in Daryl's tone, knowing he was close to climax. He saw his sub getting anxious, breaking from the kiss in search for a familiar face and comforting touch.

"You wanna cum for me, puppy?" He went closer but didn't squat down, just provided eye contact and some encouraging words.

Daryl nodded, frantic, holding a hand out and found Negan's shin to hold on to.

"Go on then, cum for me, I want to see it." Negan reached down to wrap five fingers painfully tight into Paul's long hair, pulling his head up. "I said no mouth, boy!"

The harsh handling and strict tone was enough to send Jesus over the edge with a loud sob, his body quivering, spreading thick cum along a plugged-up butt. The strong hand released him and he wrapped himself breathtakingly tight around Daryl's body, sobbing and cursing, his muscles twitching, his hips still thrusting against the blocked entrance.

Daryl gasped, staring up into Negan's face as he came, shock and surprise in his eyes, digging five fingers into a hairy leg and the other hand into Paul's ass cheek.

"Look at you being so fucking awesome for me! Are you playing with my Paul like a good boy?" Negan crouched down, arching his brows with a smile. "You do, right? What a great job." He stroked sweaty hair out of a pale forehead, loving the eager attempt of pale pink lips to smile proudly, even if they were busy to tremble in the aftermath of a very recent orgasm. He chuckled, ruffled Paul's hair, "Well done, big boy, fucking proud of you." and got up to leave the room, snapping his fingers on the way out. "You wanna take a shower. We start in 45 minutes."

Chapter Text

"I appreciate the gesture." Eugene was absolutely over the moon and could hardly contain his excitement when Abraham handed him a Cuba Libre with straw. He would definitely write about it later. Into his Doctor Who 'Journal of Impossible Things' with high quality leather cover and attached mini Sonic Screwdriver pen.

"Enjoy it." Abe slumped down into one of the broad leather chairs on the Eagle's first floor, with wide spread legs, grinning satisfied. He wasn't fooled by Eugene's blank expression and monotone voice. That guy loved being courted like a precious, mullet wearing virgin.

"Hhh." Mister Porter hummed fervently around his straw, noisily slurping his 7 dollar drink, when a tall man with slicked back hair and perfectly fitting leather jacket walked up to the Cigar lounge. The sight filled his groin area with instant arousal.

Abraham lifted a finger off the armrest, gesturing towards their boss. "So, he really gets you wet, hu." He wasn't offended. A little man-crush on Mister International Leather was nothing that could deter him from his plans.

"Getting wet refers to the mucus being produced by the bartholin gland, serving as a natural lubricant to moisten the labial opening of the vagina and make penetration more comfortable. Depending on where a woman is in her menstrual cycle vaginal secrete could also be vaginal discharge. It spoils nothing to claim that I am an imposing member of the male species and therefore don't possess a bartholin gland or vagina which makes your assertion untenable."

Abraham squinted as he listened to the free biology lesson, then huffed a laugh and shook his head. "Princess. He gets you wet."

Eugene stared at the new guest to Mister Walsh's 'welcome back'-party and noisily sucked through his straw, humming again. Mister Ford was correct.

----

It was CLIMAX at the Eagle, a night the club's busboy despised already, but going there to meet the buzz-cut-guy for a celebration caused him a new level of uneasiness.

He was barely through the door when the blaring music assaulted him. The heavy bass made the floor thrum and reverberated in his chest. It wasn't even midnight but already jam-packed. Colored lights circled the dancefloor filled with men dancing to the hard pulsing beats. Guys dressed in leather harnesses and jeans, guys with bared chests, barely-there shorts, and one man wore something short and furry to his high boots, twirling in the middle of the throng of sweaty bodies.

Daryl turned his attention away from the dancefloor, his eyes darting across the club, searching in slight panic through the sea of heads, looking for a particular leather jacket and dark hair.

He didn't find what he was looking for but Jesus found him and took him by the hand, weaving him carefully through the people, making sure not to bump into anyone as they went up the stairs. The Cowboy-boots-guy appeared out of nowhere chasing some guys away who had spotted the one and only Negan amidst the crowd and tried to steal a selfie and some hugs. Negan put a calming hand on his employee's shoulder, posed for two pictures and then patted the back of his thigh on his way to the cigar lounge.

Daryl sniffed his nose, his gaze dropping to the floor, seeing almost every seat taken by people he knew. He felt Paul dancing next to him when a song started that he really liked, and entwined their fingers more securely, scared that he could vanish to the dancefloor. But Paul didn't seem to have any plans of leaving or letting go of Daryl's hand, just watched his new Chucks on the dark red carpeting performing new dance steps as they waited until Negan had greeted everyone and sat down in the seat in the middle, that no one else would dare to occupy.

He used all the space the leather chair could possibly offer, one arm laying on the armrest, one leg casually stretched out, accepting a glass of water from Rick. "Daryl."

Daryl glanced up when he heard the familiar snap of fingers, let go of Paul's hand and felt his stomach tighten as he passed all the other seats, climbing ungracefully over Simon's long legs on his way to Negan's chair. He crouched down nervously next to the armrest, trying to hide behind it as much as he could. He felt bad for not greeting anyone, but really didn't feel like talking. Especially not to the man sitting next to Rick, wearing not one piece of olive green or camouflage clothing, but uncharacteristic jeans and a dark button down shirt.

Negan nodded to something Simon said, gestured for Paul to sit with Rick and then snapped his fingers in front of Daryl's face. "You wanna kneel for me as I taught you."
The comment was made in friendly tone, making Daryl instantly feel better. He straightened his back and spread his knees, facing Negan. He was rewarded by a gentle hand cupping the side of his face.

"Are you focusing on me?"

Daryl nodded, leaning into the touch. He didn't want the hand to leave. "Yes, Sir." It was an answer in rough tone, too low for the volume of the music.

But Negan seemed to like it anyway, shoving a raisin between pale pink lips. "Nice manners, Daryl. Good job."

Pride spread through Daryl's chest like warm sunshine, making him straighten up another inch.

Abraham watched the interaction with a slight smile and some envy on his face. He had to admit Daryl was gorgeous, especially in this position, looking up at Negan with pure adoration as if he was the only person in the room.

"The interpersonal complementarity hypothesis suggests that obedience and authority are reciprocal, complementary processes." Eugene held a bowl of wasabi nuts on his lap, eating them one by one while he watched all the interesting occurrences around him. "When an individual acts in a dominant, authoritative manner in a group, this behavior tends to prompt submissive responses from other group members. Similarly, when group members display submissive behavior, others feel inclined to display dominant behaviors in return." He tilted his head to the left when Daryl was fed another raisin for putting both arms behind his back and answering a question about the sex toy inserted into his rectum. "Studies found that hierarchical differentiation plays a significant role in liking behavior in groups. Individuals prefer to interact with other group members whose power, or status behavior complements their own." His voice changed just a tiny bit into a bashful tone as he turned to look at Abraham. "That is to say, group members who behave submissively when talking to someone who appears to be in control are better liked, and similarly individuals who display dominant behaviors are more liked when interacting with docile, subservient individuals." He finished his explanation with a deep humming noise and concentrated back on his nuts, eating two at once, because he felt a little overheated all of sudden. Maybe he should take his coat off.

Abraham studied the man to his right for a moment with a silent smirk. "Are you flirting with me?"

Eugene stared straight ahead, taking the time to munch another wasabi coated peanut before he answered. "That is a correct assessment." It was like Gone with the Wind. Part two.

----

Daryl knelt for almost an hour, obediently focusing on Negan. He handed him his drink, he held it for him, he lowered his eyes instead of throwing angry death stares when three different men approached them because they wanted autographs or photos. It earned him two more raisins, a sip from Negan's glass, and a kiss that made his lower belly tingle so much, he had to shift on his ankles and briefly lost his perfect posture.

After 56 minutes, Shane got up, seeming almost cowed or at least very rueful, standing there, raising a glass of water with one hand while he rubbed the back of his neck with the other, looking anywhere but into people's faces.

Daryl held his gaze down, but he heard it all. A thank you that everyone had followed the invitation, a thank you to Carol for the selection of nonalcoholic drinks, a thank you to Negan for the kick in the ass to go to rehab. A short summary of the past three weeks, the ups and downs of withdrawal, and a very long apology for all the things he had done. To Rick, to Paul, to Eugene. He even mentioned Daryl. And Negan listened to it all, never losing his relaxed posture, his elbow propped on the armrest, the tip of his thumb resting on the side of his mouth, his lips curled into a faint smile. In the end he raised his own glass an inch off his knee, gesturing to Shane.

Daryl didn't know what to think, especially when he peeked up through his tousled hair and saw the buzz-cut-guy hugging first Jesus and then Rick. He even kissed them, before he sat down, very close to his partner, and took his hand, smiling. An angry little growl escaped Daryl's throat, too low for anyone to hear, and he felt guilty immediately when Paul came over and crouched down next to him, snuggling up to his side.

"Please come downstairs with me?" Jesus nuzzled Daryl's neck. "The music is really good tonight."

Negan put a hand on Daryl's head, answering for him. "Now? Don't you wanna spend some time with your guys?"

Jesus didn't look up, even closed his eyes with a shrug. "They are busy." He smiled as if his words had a funny background.

"Mhm." Negan tugged the fabric of a well worn Guns n Roses shirt. "Tell Rick three songs, then you are back."  

Paul opened his eyes, brushing his nose against Daryl's warm cheek, then got up and bent down to kiss Negan's lips. Without permission. Not a brief peck, but a messy kiss with tongue and a shared, deep breath. He pulled back, not saying anything and obediently went to Rick, first whispering something into his ear, then kissed him the same way.

It made Shane chuckle. Rick not. He glanced almost embarrassed to Negan and then cast his eyes down when Paul left to go downstairs.

----

The beautiful people, Freak on a leash, and a classic from Metallica. Three songs and some groping with a nameless guy later, Paul went back upstairs, pushing through a crowd of sweaty guys to the group of alpha men in the cigar lounge. He tucked his hair behind his ears and flopped down on the armrest of Rick's chair, putting an arm around him.

"Did you miss me?"

Rick blindly patted his sub's thigh, deeply involved in a french liplock with Shane, that made him groan.

Paul played with the curly hair at the back of Rick's neck, watching two of his Dads making out. After a minute he snuggled up close to Rick's side, kissing his cheek. This time his thigh was squeezed. He looked at the hand resting on his pants, tracing the outline of pretty veins with his finger and then looked up at Daryl. Negan was deep in a conversation with Abraham and Simon, discussing something political. But still he saw out of the corner of his eye how his sub wiped his runny nose into the sleeve of his shirt.

Daryl flinched startled when he was scolded and his chin was grasped for a stern rebuke, before Negan got a paper tissue out of his jacket and made him blow his nose.

Jesus was so jealous, it hurt his stomach. And just to make himself more miserable, he sniffed his nose noisily right next to Rick's ear. Twice. At the third time he was waved off like an annoying fly. It made him chuckle. The 'Rage against the machine' song that swelled through the building in all its glory made him get back up and vanish downstairs.

He pushed through the people towards the bar and signaled a waiter in tight white undies. He was new. Tommy or Sebastian or something. He brought Jesus a double whiskey with a wink. It burned as it slid down his throat, helping his mind to focus on the scene in front of him instead of the scene he had left behind.

He ordered another one and watched the people dancing to the pulsating beat of the music. Grinding hips, hands exploring dance partners, sweat glistening on pretty faces. One of the guys caught his attention. He was shirtless, with tight, black leather pants that looked painted on, and he curled his finger in a seductive come-hither move. Paul grimaced, slammed back the new drink and pushed himself off the bar counter. There was a break in the music and the club went close to silent, then abruptly the pounding music began again, this time accompanied by a strobe light and fog machine, making the dancers look mechanical and more deliberate in their moves.

Paul blinked just once and found himself surrounded by a mass of writhing bodies. The hottie with the tight leather pants stood right in front of him and this close, his bare chest looked even more impressive. Paul let his eyes wander over the man's face and down his body, stopping at the bulge in his skintight pants. He was pulled close, feeling an unfamiliar body against his, their hips met. He closed his eyes, let the music wash over him and the whiskey work its magic. No more thoughts. No more guilt. No more self- pity. He shuddered, slowly tilting his head back as anonymous lips danced across his neck and a pair of hands fondled his crotch and ass. Another warm body pressed against him from behind, its heat seeping through his shirt. It felt good to be recognized. It felt even better to be desired. He looked up, blinking against the fog and strobe light, the music thrumming through his system, and without another thought he parted his lips when fingers offered him a small colored pill. He licked it off, swallowed and surrendered himself to the warm bodies grinding against him.

----

"Would you mind?" At almost two in the morning, Shane approached Negan, gesturing to the young man kneeling between his legs. "Just for a word." Daryl had ignored him the entire evening and he really wanted to talk to him.

Negan didn't answer, just waved two fingers as an 'Ok'.

Shane pinched his nose, tugging his trouserlegs as he squatted down with a sigh. He put his hands on Negan's thigh, tilting his head in an attempt to create eye contact. "Hey. Daryl. Can we talk for a moment?"  

Daryl didn't answer, didn't move, didn't blink. He just stared at a random spot, trying to keep his breathing under control.

"Hm." Shane gave a nod, rubbing a hand over his mouth and chin. "Yeah, I deserve that."  He huffed a small laugh and decided to speak anyway. "But I really need you to know that I was an asshole. I had no right to treat you like I did." He got no reaction, nothing at all. "The things I said... I'm really sorry, man. That wasn't me. I would never treat a sub like-"

"Bullshit."

The single word spoken in low, rough voice made Shane stop. It was full of anger and disgust.

"'s you. Drinkin' doesn't make you a different person." Daryl glanced up, glaring at the face right in front of him. "'t loosens your tongue, 's all it does."

"No, Daryl." A weird smile curved Shane's lips. He cast his eyes down. "Whatever I did, I-"

Daryl scrunched up his nose, avoiding his gaze. "Don't try to hurt him again." He paused a moment, "Or Jesus." before he looked up, his eyes deathly.

Shane held the silent stare, huffing a laugh. He rubbed a hand over his face, "Well, all I can say is I am sorry." and got up, wanting to touch Daryl's hair, but the man ducked away. He pinched his nose again and went back to his seat, grabbing his glass of water as he sat down. Awkward silence hanging like a cloud of tobacco smoke over the Eagle's cigar lounge.   

----

At almost three in the morning Paul giggled when he opened his eyes and saw one of his Dads suddenly being with him in the backroom, watching him being sucked. "Negan."  

The nameless guy on his knees glanced up at the name, releasing Paul's dick for a moment. "Oh god yes, that guy is so hot."

Negan gritted his teeth, grabbing the little cocksucker by the back of the neck, roughly pushing him aside. "What the fuck are you doing here!"

Paul blinked, seeming awfully happy and very confused at the same time, his head falling to the side when his eyes gave up on focusing. "Or green."

"What did you take!" Negan grasped his sub's jaw, then pulled his lower lid down, finding dilated pupils.

"Daddy." Paul felt shocked, seeing Negan right in front of him. He wanted to ask him for food and tell him that he really wanted to go home.

"Just gave him some candy." The cocksucker on the floor rubbed his arm, chuckling. That guy looked like the cover of the last Attitude magazine.

"Pants up." Negan ignored everyone around, raising his voice when Paul's eyes fell shut. "FUCKING PANTS UP I SAID!"

Jesus flinched startled, reaching down to zip up his fly. Negan was in the backroom. And then grabbed him painfully tight by the upper arm and dragged him outside, through crowds of people, loud music and onto the street. The cool night air hit him like a hammer in the face, making him vomit instantly. He stared down at the puddle of gooey liquid covering his brand new Chucks. He forgot to draw a puppy.

"What's going on! Can you stop a minute?" Rick jogged out of the club, pulling Negan's arm.

"He's staying with me." Negan crouched down, cursing as he untied Paul's drenched shoelaces and tried to get him out of his soggy shoes.

"No he's not? Just because he's drunk? He's young! He just wants a little fun!"

Negan pulled the second shoe off, got up and threw both of them into his employee's arms. "I am not discussing this with you right now. Go home. Sleep. Come to my office in the fucking morning. 10 o'clock." He took Paul by the arm and dragged him across the sidewalk to the freshly polished Tahoe parking right in front of the club. He opened the backdoor. "Daryl, help him buckle up."   

"Shane just got back. We had hardly any time together. He should really be home."

Negan helped his sub to climb on the backseat, gave Daryl a reassuring smile, shut the door and turned around, rising up to his full height. He made one step closer, standing chest to chest with Rick, gritting his teeth, his voice low enough so the men in the car wouldn't be able hear him. "You answer to me. My word is final. He is staying with me because I am drawing a line right here, right now. You go and do as I just told you."

Rick glowered, his cheeks turning into a slight shade of red as he first stared at Negan's face and then lowered his eyes.

"Go home and sleep. Be at my office at 10." Negan waited for a barely visible nod, "Good." and got into the car, starting the engine.

----

Warm, cozy, a secure seatbelt on, the steady hum of the car, the certainty of Negan driving them safely through the dark, nightly city, it was almost womb-like. Being protected in a quiet bubble, far away from the real world.

Paul closed his eyes, his head leaning against Daryl's shoulder. He knew he would have to wash himself and brush his teeth once they were at the factory. He would have to sit down if he wanted to pee. He wouldn't be allowed to have Frosties for breakfast or a donut for lunch. He wouldn't be able to hide any pill bottles in unlocked medicine cabinets and he would be punished for everything he had done tonight.

It was the best thing in the world. Safe and perfect.

Negan stopped at red lights, glancing at his subs through the rear view mirror. Boy number two slouched weakly against Daryl's side, almost slipping out of the seatbelt. "Paul. Sit the fuck straight. I don't wanna scrape you off the windshield if I have to slam the fucking brakes!"

Jesus blinked, the stern words loud in the quiet car. He was dizzy and nauseous. But he sat up anyway, mumbling an obedient 'Yes, Sir.' because one of his Dads knew he wasn't such a big boy after all. 

Chapter Text

Rick arrived ten minutes early, seeming tense and sleep-deprived. Fifteen minutes after he had entered basement office number seven, he was also very frustrated and tried to hold his anger at bay.

"You can't do that! He's not a pet you can order around like that!"

Negan sat down on the edge of his desk, crossing his ankles and his arms, chuckling with a shake of his head. "You're absolutely right. He's not a pet. He is the fucking sub depending on your consistency and guidance. He's given control over his fucking life to you, trusting that you make the right decisions and lead him the right way. He's looking up to you, waiting for you to take charge. And you know who failed?" He arched his brows at his employee, seeming far too amused for the graveness of the situation as he tapped the side of his nose with one finger. "It's you, my friend."

Rick looked up, his eyes narrowed as he glared at his boss. It seemed like he wanted to say something. Snap back. Contradict the allegation, but in the end he just huffed a soundless laugh and let his head drop, shaking it.

"Is it your fault? Not really. Being responsible for another life means you have to be fucking good and down with your own. You need to know who you are. Your strength, your weaknesses. You can't fall apart when things go to shit, you need to have it all together. You can't waver, Rick. Not in front of him. And boy, you waver like a fucking limp dick in a tub of lukewarm water." The amusement evaporated from Negan's eyes. His customary warmth gone. "You can't expect him to follow if you don't know the fucking way. But of course, as the good boy he is, he did anyway. Stumbling after Daddy Grimes through the dark like a faithful fluffy duckling. Trying to reach for your hand while you were busy wiping your teary eyes." He uncrossed his arms and shoved his hands in his pockets. "And I don't know what your professional opinion is, Mister Grimes, but I think only a fucking asshole would do something selfish like that." There wasn't any accusation or mocking in his voice. His words were spoken with sympathy and understanding. "I take over from here. I am in charge from now on. Because he needs stability and structure that you can't provide at this point in your life."

Rick stared at the thick grey carpeting between his feet, not blinking as he studied the tiny black lint laying there. "He 's my boyfriend. I love him."

"Well, he fucking loves you too. So, go and do all that romantic boyfriend shit with him. Take him to girly picnics in the park, invite him to the god damn opera. Buy him a diamond ring and make fucking love to him all night. But not without my fucking consent. You don't make the rules anymore. I do. I am in charge a hundred percent. You may see him, date him, fuck him, but he lives here under my rules. I know where he is and what he is doing twenty four seven. He answers to me, he reports to me. And so do you."  

----

Negan was generous and gave boy number two time to sleep and recover until the early afternoon. But he wasn't generous enough to knock politely or keep the noise down as he entered his room at 2 PM, letting the door swing open. He remained in the door frame, unblinking, his expression dead serious.

Daryl jumped off the bed with wide eyes, putting both hands behind his back as if he had been caught touching grandmother's old English china without permission.

"I'm awake." Jesus lifted his head from the pillows, looking miserable.

Negan snapped his fingers for Daryl, gesturing for him to come closer. "Please go and help at the store. We got a new delivery."

"Okay." Daryl didn't feel at all like working at the store with Rick and seeing customers. But one look at Negan's face made clear that it wasn't the time to argue. So he glanced at Jesus for a second and went past the tall man blocking the exit, trying not to touch him.

"Ksst." Negan reached a hand out and caught his sub halfway, curling four fingers around the side of a collared neck. He pulled him in for a kiss. "Are you so good for me?"  

"Hm." Daryl nodded and courageously put a hand to Negan's cheek, wanting the kiss to continue.

And Negan seemed to like clumsy fingers stroking his scruff, because he rolled his tongue into a warm mouth, granting a bit more affection before he pulled back, kissing Daryl's palm. "Good boy. I'll come later and you show me how nicely you work for me."

"Okay." Daryl left, touching the small damp spot on his palm while the butterflies in his stomach had already a million ideas how good helpers could do an even better job at the store for their owner.

"He's the cutest." Jesus sat up, scratching his head. Maybe he had to puke, his stomach hadn't decided yet.

Negan closed the door. "How are you feeling?"

"Like being eaten and chucked up by the Jabberwocky. Twice." Paul smiled weakly to his statement but didn't look up.

Negan went through the messy room, finding one of his good shirts on a chair. Dirty and reeking. "Anything you wanna tell me?"

Paul watched how the shirt was picked up and thrown into the empty laundry basket. "Yes." He wanted to. Even though it wasn't the end of May yet. "I guess you know it already?" He peeked up meekly, hoping one of his Dads would meet him halfway, but got no answer. "Of course you do." He hunched his shoulders, picking at his fingers. "I took something. Sometimes in the past weeks." He grimaced at his own words, staring at his pale hands. They were really cold. "Just a pill and then some dust, then more pills. I didn't plan for it to happen." His head felt awfully heavy all of sudden and he could hear the blood pounding in his ears, making him dizzy. "I just needed a time out really badly, Sir."

Negan listened, touching the painted wall, wondering for how long he had been fucking blind and oblivious. "Did you shoot."

The hint of fear and concern in Negan's otherwise emotionless voice made Paul's stomach consider to vomit again. He shook his head, his answer quiet. "No, Sir."

Negan pursed his lips, leaning with his shoulder against the wall. He looked down at his boots, then up at the pitiful figure on the bed. "You broke the rules."

Fear and sickness of the worst kind consumed Paul's body, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes and everywhere between.  "Will you send me away." He sounded as suffocated as he felt.

"Drugs, lies and bullshit have no place in my life, you know that."

Paul nodded, feeling like the biggest scum the world had ever seen. He deserved this.

"But the month is just halfway through and you confessed. So maybe you are not too fucking happy with all this shit yourself."

Paul's vision got blurry, his throat getting tight as he nodded again.

"Maybe you want to stop. Maybe you want help."

"I want."

The two small words were barely audible, but Negan heard them anyway. "It is not entirely your fault. You had two Doms. Two caretakers who fucked up doing their job, while guy number three poured buckets of horseshit over your head."  

"It had nothing to do with you, Sir."

"Wrong." Negan pushed off the wall, slowly walking through the room. "It has everything to do with me when my sub fails. And I saw that things got waaay out of hand over there in your little cute house in the fucking suburbs."

"They tried to ke-"

"Oh yes, they fucking tried, boy!" Negan raised his voice. "But fucking trying is sometimes not enough. I tried too. Tried to talk some sense into your number one Daddy. Tried to guide from the outside. But time for velvet gloves and fucking nice words is over now. You still wanna be with me? There's only one fucking way I see."

Paul tucked a messy strand of hair behind his ear, glancing up for the first time. "Will we be just friends?" He wanted to drop dead immediately.

Negan snorted a laugh. "The fuck do we stay fucking friends. You can stay fucking friends or lovers or boyfriends with your Ma and Pa in the fucking cozy pink colored suburbs!! But if you wanna be with me, boy, I will be the fucking only one in charge from now on! You listen to me, you answer to me only! No more fucking power sharing. It didn't work, for neither one of us."

A hint of red blush made Paul's pale cheeks glow. "I'm yours?"

Negan tilted his head, cocking an eyebrow. "You've always been fucking mine. But from now on you live here under my fucking rules. Twenty four seven."

The sparkle of happiness flickering through blue eyes was replaced by deep concern in under three seconds. "But who will serve them if I live here?"

Something warm and gentle moved over Negan's serious features as he decided that his sub deserved honesty, even if it hurt. "They don't need service right now, boy. And they can't give you what you need. Sometimes things have to change."

Paul knew that. Deep down he knew it was true, but still every fiber in his body wanted to take care of Rick and Shane.

"Do you want things to change?"

Paul wiped his eyes with the side of his hand, then nodded. "Yes." It wasn't entirely true. He wanted his old life back. But obviously that wasn't an option anymore. And since he didn't like his current life, things had to change somehow.

"You want to remember your place and let me handle the problem? Should I take care of you, boy?"

A tear fell down when Jesus blinked and he wiped it off his nose, nodding again. "Yes, Sir. Please." He answered quietly then covered his face, his body heaving with a sob.

Negan watched him a moment then snapped his fingers, pointing one down.

Paul exhaled into his hands, trying to calm down, then wiped his face and got up to stand in front of Negan.

"Until further notice all your privileges are revoked. You will work at the store. You will do your chores. You will be on your best behavior. You will make sure that I know where you are and what you're up to every fucking minute of the day. At night you sleep here, exclusively. You are welcome to meet your boyfriend. He is welcome to see you here. But you will ask before and I will always have the final say." Negan snapped his fingers again, demanding eye contact. "You follow my rules. You don't lie. You treat me with respect at all times." He paused a second, tilting his chin down. "And be sure that if you bring drugs into my house, or bring that shit near Daryl, you are out of my life. No exceptions." The pain and fear moving over a blushed face affected him but not his solid voice or strict demeanor. "Do you have any questions?"

"No, Sir."

"Good." Negan grabbed the empty duffle bag he found on the floor in front of an IKEA POÄNG armchair. He threw it onto the bed. "Your CD's, your iPod, your fucking headphones. All in there. You get it back when you earned it." He wasn't impressed by the wide blue eyes, staring at him in pure shock and disbelief. "Now would be good."

Paul wanted to say something, defend himself and his most precious possessions. But then he mumbled just something too low for anyone to understand and turned around to follow the order.

Negan watched his sub reluctantly packing two pairs of headphones, an iPod and 41 CD's into the bag, zip it up and heave it onto the floor right next to his feet. "Very well. Now give me all the illegal fucking substances you hide in this awesome room I generously provide for you."

"What?" Paul brushed a strand of hair behind his ear, a nervous smile on his face. "Sir, I don't have-"

"HAND YOUR FUCKING DRUGS OVER!" Negan bellowed in ear deafening volume right into Paul's face, holding a hand out. "NOW!"  

Jesus ducked his head, blinking his eyes rapidly as all the color drained from his features. He didn't dare to say another word or look up, just went to his bed, his legs shaking a little. There were two joints and a bag with green herbal-looking stuff inside his pillow case, two small, flat packages of tinfoil underneath the pillow, another one underneath the sheets and a box of tic-tacs with colorful pills inside in the drawer of his nightstand. He piled it all up on Negan's broad palm and then fished another pill and a slightly damaged hand-rolled cigarette out of the coat hanging over a STOCKHOLM lampshade. He lowered his head when he was done.

"Can you guarantee that this is all." It was the only comment Negan made, stashing everything into his jacket pockets.

"Yes, Sir." Paul looked down at his feet. His socks didn't match. One was light grey, the other greyish white with a small kangaroo. After a very brief respite his arm shot up and he touched the leather of Negan's jacket. "I mean, at home I have pills. In the bathroom."

"We will pick up your stuff when I'm done with work tonight. You give it to me then, and everything else you might have forgotten."

Compared to Negan's large biker boots, Paul's feet looked really diminutive. He liked it. "Yes, Sir."

"Alright. Look at me." Negan waited for eye contact before he proceeded. "I want you to remember that you report to me every night. But for now I don't want it in writing, you will sit with me and tell me. You also want to remember that you are supposed to report any form of discomfort immediately."

"I will."

"Damn well right, you fucking will. Now you go upstairs and park that disrespectful ass of yours on my fucking favorite chair and think about all the good reasons why it's a fucking shitty move to lie to me."  

Jesus didn't say anything, just went past the tall man occupying his room, walked out of the door, three steps down the corridor, and then turned around and jogged back in four big steps, flinging his arms around Negan's neck. He still didn't say anything, but squeezed his eyes shut and stood on his tip toes to bury his nose into the crook of a warm neck.

----

Picking up 17 boxes of boy-utensils from the suburbs after an ass long, stressful work day wasn't exactly Negan's favorite after-work activity. And he had a feeling it wouldn't get any better when he unlocked the door to his apartment and was greeted by a young man sporting a smudge of blue marker on the cheek.

"'have four." Daryl held his list up. It was a bit crinkled, but the four blue crosses in a row were clearly visible.

"Is that so." Negan flung his keys into the small metal bowl on the cabinet. "Let me see." He took the list and studied it far longer then necessary before handing it back. "Well, congratulations! That's the sixth time. You're doing fucking awesome, right?"

"Hm." Daryl nodded and smiled a little because he felt so proud. "Yes." He followed Negan into the living room.

"And? What do you want this time." Negan sat down on the couch and hoped for at least a few minutes of rest before he had to do the unavoidable, pack his sub, and do a trip to Apex swimming. Because the past four times Daryl had always wanted the same reward: Swimming.

Daryl nestled with the paper in his hands and glanced to the entry room where the readily-packed sports bag sat right next to the coat rack. "Can we swim." The small request was spoken in rough voice and didn't sound very friendly.

Negan liked it anyway. "May you have another fucking swimming lesson?" He tipped his head back to rest it on the backrest of the couch, closing his eyes. God he was tired. "Yes. Give me thirty minutes. Old Negan needs a break." He heard his sub huff a chuckle and cracked one eye open. "You think that's funny?" He waved two fingers, "Go get me something to drink." and watched his sub obediently stroll off to the kitchen before he shut his eyes again. "Fucking puppy."

----

Having his privileges revoked didn't mean that Jesus wasn't allowed to go swimming. It just meant he wasn't allowed to have fun while doing it.

He was on his 9th lap, going at a steady pace, when a sharp whistle split the air.

"Are you fucking Pippa Middleton? This isn't aquacades! Show me some decent front crawl I said!" Negan strode at the side of the pool, his eyes fixed on the water. "ONE - TWO, ONE - TWO! Elbows up nice and high!" He watched his sub swimming a choppy crawl, struggling to increase speed. "No, you wanna breathe every two arm strokes, boy!" When the performance was more to his liking, he clapped his hands twice. "That's better! Ten more!"

Daryl sat at the side of the pool, watching with envy as Paul churned through the water like some kind of awesome ocean creature. He tried to copy his breathing style, inhaling every time Paul turned his head out of the water to take a breath.

"Daryl." Negan went to stand a little closer to his boy, making sure he had full attention. "Deep fucking breath, go in and fall deep. You wanna turn around, change directions and find your way back to the wall."

Daryl glanced back over his shoulder, reaching a hand out for Negan because he really wasn't standing close enough.

"You can start. I'll dive in when you need help, right?" Negan watched his sub take a deep breath and drop into the water, head first. His swimming style was still very clumsy, instinctive, simple dog paddling, but the task was correctly accomplished.    

Daryl tried to sink down as deep as possible but didn't manage to touch the ground before he got panic and paddled back to the blurry, blue-tiled wall, recovering to the surface with a gasp. He held on to the edge, wiping the water from his eyes.

"Good job." Negan took the black lanyard off his neck and threw his beloved stainless steel ACME Thunderer whistle into the water. "Now you wanna bring me my whistle back."

Daryl watched horrified as the shiny object sank all the way down to the unreachable bottom almost in the middle of the pool and then glanced up at Jesus who was busy treading water because his arms started to get really tired.

"Don't do it, puppy! That's our chance to get rid of it!"

"Fucking ten, I said!" Negan didn't need a whistle to make himself heard. "Chop, chop boy, or you do twenty!"

Paul chuckled and pushed off the poolwall with his feet, submerging into the clear water for another lap.

Negan watched him for a few seconds, then bent down and lowered himself into the pool to assist boy number one. "Come here." He waved two fingers, then pulled a very hesitant Daryl closer into the deeper water where the target lay glittering in a five foot depth.  He positioned himself so the whistle was right in front of his feet. "Deep breath. Dive down, grab it and come back up."

Daryl kept one hand at Negan's body as he inhaled deeply and went underneath the water, his butt up, his legs kicking to get deeper somehow.

Negan saw him struggling again to drop deep and gave him a strong push, effectively moving him down all the way, so he could reach the ground. He watched satisfied as the lanyard was grabbed and Daryl flipped around on his own to paddle up again.

Daryl chuckled proudly the second his head breached the surface. "Here." He wiped the dripping hair out of his face and held the whistle up, smiling.

"Look at that." Negan looped an arm around his sub's slippery body, pulling him close. "Aren't you a clever diver."    

"' touched the ground." Daryl held his hand out to show the fingertip that did it.

"You sure did." Negan gave an affirmative nod, then pointed to the poolside. "Now hop out and wait in the locker room for me. It's fucking bedtime." He gave Daryl another push, watched him paddle towards the wall, completely under water instead of holding his head up, before he pulled himself up at the edge and climbed out, obediently vanishing through the doorway.

Negan turned around, took the whistle between his lips and made the walls vibrate with its high pitched, penetrating, ear piercing sound, able to raise the dead or get boy number two's undivided attention. "Time to clean up and go home, bugger!"

----

Warming up on a heated bench in the cozy warm locker room, listening to the steady hum of Paul's hairdryer, Daryl was a minute away from falling asleep. Maybe it was really fucking bedtime.

"Open." Negan was dressed in casual sneakers, sweatpants and an old hoodie from the Leather Factory's 2012 clothing line, smelling like a basket of freshly washed laundry.

Daryl wanted to bury his face into the man's pants. But he didn't and instead opened his mouth to take a bite of the banana that was offered to him.

Negan tugged the peel a bit further down and held it out for another bite. "You remember what tomorrow is?"

Daryl stopped chewing, freezing as fictional pictures of a Victorian courthouse popped up in his head, along with a man in black robe and weird grey wig, hitting his desk with a hammer. "Hm." He raised his shoulder, rubbing his ear against. "Merle."

"Mhm." Negan patted his sub's cheek, reminding him to take a bite. "Are you nervous?"

Daryl nodded. It was a horrible kind of nervous. That nervous that made his stomach clench and his throat tight, like he would have to do something really awful.

"Don't be." Negan combed his fingers through recently blow dried hair. "They're just normal people doing their fucking job. And if it doesn't turn out as we want it to, we will find another way and try again." He pushed Daryl's head against his crotch, stroking him lovingly for a while. "You know what else is tomorrow?" He didn't get an answer, but Jesus switched the hair dryer off and snuggled up to Negan's side, bending down to bite off a huge chunk of the banana.

"I know. It's your annibirthary and I have the bestest gift of all."

----

With a groan Negan turned his head and forced his heavy eyes open, glancing at the glowing numbers of the alarm clock. 1:49.

Daryl was sound asleep next to him, curled up into a ball, a crinkled latex glove on the pillow after it had fallen out of his hand. The spot behind Daryl was empty.  

Negan got up, as noiselessly as possible, grabbed a woolen blanket from the bottom of the wardrobe and went into the bathroom. The light was on and Jesus sat huddled up on the floor in front of the heater, rocking back and forth. His arms wrapped around his bent legs, his hands tucked into the opposite sleeves of his shirt, his head down, hidden against his knees. He whimpered softly.

Negan switched the lights off and sat down on the floor, pulling Paul close without a word and covered them both with the blanket.

Jesus felt sweat drench his skin, his eyes throbbing strangely in his head, ringing sounds vibrating in his ears and the thumping of his heart against his chest made him crazy. His fingers cramped underneath the cover of his sleeves, nails digging into his arms. He heard his own rapid breathing and felt the oxygen flooding in and out of his lungs, trying to cope with the pain terrorizing his body. And then there was sudden relief. Darkness and warmth, a safe cover and protecting arms around him. Familiar smell surrounded him. Caressing fingers in his hair felt like magic. It didn't stop his body from its vigorous protest, but it soothed his screaming mind. He buried his face into Negan's arm, losing himself in soft fabric and comforting body heat. "Can you sing." He got no answer and knew Negan would have slapped his head under different circumstances for such a silly demand.

But after two completely silent minutes his wildly thumping heart skipped a beat when he heard a deep hum vibrating from a broad chest into every nook of his body. He didn't recognize the hummed melody, he just knew he was in the best place he could possibly be, with the most special person he had ever met.

Chapter Text

On May the 12th, at almost seven in the morning, Daryl blinked his eyes open and lifted his head out of the pillows, confusedly looking around in an empty room. Negan was gone, Jesus wasn't there and Tiger didn't wait in the doorframe. He sniffed his nose and crawled out of bed, pulling his pajama pants up as he padded with bare feet out into the living room. The dim morning light just started to enter through the high factory windows, failing to brighten the room yet. Daryl slowed down as he approached the dining area. There were several candles on, a big vase with flowers stood in the middle of the table and next to it were three gifts, wrapped in colorful paper with bows on top.

A red balloon was fastened to the backrest of his chair, hovering above it on a long string. He wrapped an arm across his chest, pulling one shoulder up, not sure what to make out of the situation.

Negan put his newspaper on the table and got up, biting back a smirk. "What's with the grumpy face, birthday puppy." He held a hand out. "Come here, let me congratulate you on your birthday."

Daryl grimaced under his tousled hair, feeling shy and uncomfortable as the part of him that was suddenly really excited, got shut down by a loud voice warning him that this was all a big mockery. He went closer and hesitantly accepted the handshake, trying not to look when long fingers wrapped firmly around his own.

"Happy birthday, young man." Negan adored the innocent shyness and insecure attitude he was given and pulled Daryl into a tight embrace, kissing a pale ear before he spoke into it. "May all your dreams come true, sweetheart."   

Daryl listened, nuzzling his cheek against Negan's soft shirt. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to say something back, or if they would eat a cake now, or play with the balloon, but Negan hugged him even closer and rubbed his back, so he did the same and wrapped his arms around the man's waist in a silent 'thank you' because that's really all he wanted to say.

"Olivia made pancakes for you. Go sit down and eat before they get cold." Negan kissed his sub's head and pulled back, patting his butt.

"Hm." Daryl flicked his head and sat down, glancing three times at the balloon before he took the silver foil off his plate. He found a small pile of pancakes underneath, garnished with cut fruit. The one on top had a happy face made of berries, chocolate chips and whipped cream. He sniffed his nose, wanting to say that this was really childish, but then he just grabbed his fork and dove into it. Because he was hungry and childish pancakes tasted awesome.

"Good?" Negan sat down, unfolding his newspaper.

"Hm." Daryl nodded with full cheeks, then picked up a grape and held it out because Negan hadn't even a plate, just a cup of tea. He watched as it was eaten right from his fingers. It made his skin tickle and let a butterfly dance happily in his belly.

"Good boy, sharing so nicely, right?" Negan wasn't a fan of gooey grapes with whipped cream-molten chocolate chip-cover, but he ate it anyway. "You wanna open your presents?"

Daryl glanced at the three gifts and wanted to shake his head, because he felt so awkward to receive rewards without doing anything good. But the one with the blue paper had the shape of a book and maybe it was another one about ships. So he shrugged, "Okay." and tried to look as unexcited as possible when he pulled it closer and started to pick at the paper. It was heavy and really felt like a book. And the rest of the paper was gone pretty fast as soon as he spied a part of a picture with green skin and huge teeth. 'Encyclopedia of Dinosaurs & Prehistoric Life'. He took it in both hands and stared at it. It was black with golden letters and the head of a badass Tyrannosaurus rex was printed on the cover. It looked like a real photo, not like a drawing.  

Negan glanced over his newspaper, his lips curving at Daryl's amazed reaction to a simple book. "I guess we have to go back to fucking Ikea to get you a decent book shelf, right."

"Hey, you started with the prezzies already?" Jesus came in, followed by Tiger. He pulled his beanie off and threw it blindly somewhere on the table, almost hitting a candle. "Open this one. It's from me." He leaned from behind over Daryl's shoulder, handed the dinosaur book to one of his Dads and fished a box in white-black wrapping from the table, impatiently pulling the bow off to speed things up a little, before he spoiled the surprise. "It's the complete Jurassic Park collection on Blue ray with Jurassic World and all the extras and deleted scenes."

Daryl watched as the rest of the paper was ripped off and another book with dinosaur cover appeared. It was smaller and lighter.

"You can watch it on TV." Jesus promised and kissed Daryl's cheek soundly. "Happy birthday."

Daryl pulled his shoulders up, smiling. He really liked dinosaurs. And Jesus.

"Yeah, now go take your fucking boots off and clean all that dirt off my floor." Negan gestured to the trail of dried mud crumbs leading from the entry room to Paul's dirty shoes. "Chop, chop."

"Yes, Sir." Jesus kissed Daryl again, then Negan, stole a piece of pineapple off the pancake plate and went to find the broom.

"Boy." Negan tapped the table with one finger. "Don't forget to eat. You may open the last one when you're done."

"Hm." Daryl glanced at Negan sipping his tea, then at Jesus sweeping the floor, then up at his balloon, before he forked a huge bite of awesome pancake into his mouth. He liked birthdays a lot.

----

There was a brand new motorcycle leather jacket in the last box. Especially made for Daryl Dixon, Negan's official submissive. It was heavy, smelled awesome, fitted like tailored onto his body, and was the perfect piece of clothing to wear for people who wanted to hide, sitting on the roof of a mighty factory building.

"What are you doing here." Negan found boy number one after 22 minutes of searching the whole building. They would be late for their court appearance. "I asked you to wait at the car."

Daryl sat cross legged, pulling his fingers as he stared at the city unfolding beneath the high building. He didn't want to go. He didn't want to speak, either. But then he felt safe legs right behind him, pushing into his back, while a hand reached down to stroke his hair, and he closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. "Who will see the pictures."

It was a question asked in low voice, and Negan tried to answer as neutral and unaffected as possible. "Who will see the photos the doctor took? The judge will. The lawyers, too. They don't put them out for everybody to see. They're just part of the evidence."

Daryl nodded once, his stomach feeling numb.

"You wanna focus on me, boy. You go there with me, you do as I tell you, you leave with me. That's all you need to think about. Right?" Negan looked down, tickling Daryl's ear. "If it gets too much, you show me your signal and we get the fuck out of there."

Daryl tipped his head back and glanced up, seeing a warm smile and the most genuine expression in dark eyes, knowing he was told the truth.

----

The court wasn't a Victorian house, but a modern building and the judge didn't wear a wig. He sat at a long wooden desk and seemed almost friendly. A bit like the patient grandpa out of the butterscotch commercial.

Merle sat in another section of the room. He wore shackles and his prison jumpsuit, holding longer eye contact with Negan than with his little brother, before he busied himself by studying his fingernails.

Negan looked different in his dark suit, but he smelled as always and his fingers still did the very comforting snapping sound whenever Daryl's thoughts trailed off, or his eyes wandered for too long through the room.

There was a lot of talking and reading, people standing up and sitting down, strange terms being used, and Daryl wished he would have been allowed to wear his new leather jacket instead of the silly button-down shirt with matching tie. Olivia had ironed both for 12 minutes, wanting it to look perfect.  

She was the first to take the witness stand and left it shaking, but just as brave and determined as she had entered it.

Daryl hated to hear about the effects the abuse had on his life. It made him angry and ashamed. He wanted to say it wasn't true or not that bad. But then he didn't say anything because lying at court was against the law, and lying in general was a no-go for Negan, who got up from the wooden bench like a mighty, intrepid king and took the stand not only with pride but also with all his presence, making it his own, just as the entire courtroom. He spoke better than any lawyer in the building and in under five minutes, painted an accurate picture of William Dixon and his fatherly love and care, without ever having met him. He didn't lose temper, no matter how inappropriate or private the questions were. And no word out of his mouth sounded in any way disgusted or disparagingly. Not when he explained Mister Dixon's poor skills, from writing and reading, over swimming, to simple things like holding a fork, or a conversation on the phone. Not when he talked about the significant signs of a neglected child. Not when he told the blunt truth about Daryl's ill-treated, scarred body. It still sounded respectful and caring.

Mister Grimes spoke. Jesus did. Two neighbors from the street where the Dixons used to live. And a lady Daryl hadn't recognized at first, but was introduced to the judge as Margaret Greene, and she had a lot to share about the Dixon brothers and their miserable childhood. She was much older now, with some small wrinkles around her eyes, but when she looked at Merle, it was still with the same kind and fond expression that Daryl knew from his time as student. He wanted to wave at her, like he had done it after class because he was too shy to say good-bye. But then she got up already and went back to her seat.

Two minutes later everyone got up because the judge wanted to do a break. Daryl stood outside, next to Negan listening to a conversation he held with Mister Blake and a person he had never seen before. He felt pleasantly invisible and leaned into the strong hand rubbing his back as if it was some kind of power source to recharge his energy.     

When it was time to go back in, Negan stopped him from sitting down. Instead he rolled Daryl's sleeve up, making the 5 black letters written on a pale forearm visible. "Don't look up. Look at this. Answer what you want to answer. Then come back to me."

A person in Sheriff's uniform came and walked him to the witness box. Daryl felt like vomiting. He knew everyone stared at him. He knew everyone would listen. He looked to the left and saw Merle in his orange overall seeming not snarky at all, but apprehensive somehow. He looked to the right and saw many faces he knew. Jesus, Olivia, Negan, old Miss Greene and Rick who seemed just as intimidated by the whole court situation as he was.

Daryl was asked to raise his right hand and promise to tell the truth. He listened to the person speaking to him but glanced for confirmation at the tall man in dark suit sitting in the audience, before he nodded and agreed with shy words not to lie.

He glanced at him a second time when he was asked to take a seat. Negan gave him a single nod and encouraging smile, then gestured for him to look down at his arm. So Daryl did exactly that. He didn't just look at it, he stared at the wonderful black magic ink, rubbed it with his hand and pulled his marked skin with two fingers, while he listened to male voices speaking to him. First a person he didn't know, then the fancy lawyer, Mister Blake. In between the judge asked him twice whether he had understood the question, and Daryl was annoyed because of course he had understood it all perfectly well. He just didn't want to answer. Because everyone watched and listened.  

"Mister Dixon, I would like you to answer my question." Philip repeated in calm tone, stepping a bit closer to the witness stand.

Daryl sniffed his nose and flicked his head, glancing up just a little through his tousled hair at the people he knew. Jesus, Olivia, Rick. But he couldn't see their faces, because they all had lowered their gaze and covered their ears, granting him respect and privacy. He looked at Negan and saw him lifting his middle and index fingers to his ears as well, giving him an encouraging nod with a warm smile. He didn't lower his head like the others, but watched over his sub the whole time.

Daryl traced the letters on his arm with his fingertip while he spoke, quietly but loud enough to be heard. About his deepest, darkest secrets, that his own ears didn't want to hear. A few times he was asked to repeat certain parts, to confirm them, or give more depth to the information. Once the judge asked him something about Merle. A person he didn't know used the words 'anus' and 'penis', twice. In the end he was allowed to go back to his seat. He didn't look at Merle as he made his way through the room. He didn't look at anyone, but kept his head down and really wanted to hide between safe legs as he reached his place, but knew it wasn't allowed in the courtroom. Negan had told him. But obviously finger hugging was okay, because a warm pinky finger with soft black hair on the lowest knuckle reached out to entwine with his own, on the privacy of the silly wooden bench that looked a million years old.

Mister Blake was allowed to hold the closing argument, and it was a long and passionate one. About pressuring his physically and emotionally abused client into confession. About the pain of an older brother to witness horrific things and the struggle to keep the younger sibling safe. About beating a man who was the devil in the personal hell of two innocent boys. About a person who wasn't an angel, but no candidate for the death chamber, either. About the difference between a cold blooded murderer and an abused man defending his little brother when nobody else did it. Not the neighbors, not the school, not CPS, or the law.

He didn't plead innocent. Because Mister Dixon had killed a man. He didn't plead insanity. Because Mister Dixon was in full command of his mental faculties. But he pleaded in mitigation. Grievous bodily harm resulting in death, in consideration of all circumstances.

Daryl sniffed his nose and looked around when the judge and some other people got up and left the room, not sure if it was over already. He glanced to the left at his brother, still sitting there with orange jumpsuit and shackles. He wondered if Merle could go home now and live at the factory.

But after a while the judge came back and a person asked everyone in the room to stand up and then sit down again. The judge thanked the witnesses and lawyers, then spoke about all the facts and information he had taken into consideration as he decided the verdict. After a few minutes he addressed the defendant personally, asking him to get up.

Daryl looked back and forth between both of them, then glanced at Negan because he didn't understand all the words being used. He couldn't tell whether Merle looked happy, relieved or sad. He couldn't tell what the handshake between Mister Blake and Merle meant. And then, suddenly, everyone left. Daryl was shoved out of the room, hugged by Jesus, kissed on both cheeks by a teary Olivia, patted on the back by Rick. Negan talked to Mister Blake, they shook hands as well, both smiled.

Mister Blake spoke to Daryl, too, shaking his hand firmly like Negan had done it in the morning. But he didn't say 'Happy birthday!'. He said 'A fantastic outcome! Congratulations!'.

Daryl blinked through his tousled hair, then glanced back over his shoulder as he was dragged down the stairs and towards the parking lot. Merle didn't come and was nowhere to be seen. "Wait." He tugged Negan's hand. "Where's Merle."

Negan didn't stop, but searched for his car keys. "He's taken back to the prison, right? We will see him at our next visit."

Daryl frowned. "Why."

"Why? You don't want to visit him?" Negan unlocked the car and handed Daryl the new jacket back. He didn't get an answer just an angry look out of confused eyes. "You want a strike on your fucking birthday?"  

Daryl pulled his hand free and made a step back. "Why's he not comin' with us." His voice sounded rough and his question reproachful. The lawyer had said it was all fantastic.

"He can't come with us because he is still a prisoner."

"No." Daryl didn't understand anything anymore. He turned around, feeling stupid and angry.

"Boy. The initial conviction was overturned. He won't be executed. But he still got ten years to life." Negan didn't get a reaction. "It means his sentence is a minimum of ten years and after that time it is up to the parole board when he is released."

The words passed through Daryl like a hurricane. His fingers were shaking, he bit down on his lip trying not to burst into tears. Everything he worked and struggled for lay in ruins. It was for nothing.  A waste of money, time and energy. Desolation wrapped around his heart so tightly it almost stopped beating. He wanted to yell, but just exhaled a weird sob, clenched his fists and threw his jacket onto the ground. Then the scream came out after all, but sounded strangely high pitched, choked somehow, as he kicked the wonderful birthday gift and lunged out to beat something. All he hit was blank air, before Negan caught his fist.

"Hey! Fucking stop it!"

Daryl avoided his eyes because they welled up and he felt useless and ugly. Like a lying piece of shit. He had promised Merle to get him out. He wanted to show him the factory and go with him on a motorcycle trip. To the woods. Or maybe visit the port in Florida to see the big cruise ship. And now none of it would happen and Merle was still all alone in the horrible jail. Because of him.   

Negan released his fist. "Pick it up."

Daryl didn't react for a moment, then wiped his eyes into his silly white, perfectly ironed sleeve and bent down to pick the jacket up. He put it on, a bit awkwardly, struggling with his rage and trembling body.

"Apologize." Negan didn't have to wait long before a 'sorry' was mumbled in his direction and a fingertip touched his arm. "That's better." He reached out to tug Daryl's shirt, pulling him close. Then stroked some messy strands of hair out of his sub's face, standing chest to chest with him. "Now you wanna fucking listen. It is a very good outcome for your brother. He will still be in prison but he will not die in there. We will make sure that he gets out in fucking ten years. Until then he will have a much better life than he has now." He tipped Daryl's chin up. "He will have a buddy to share his cell with. He can talk to other inmates, he can do sports, go outside, go to the library, the fucking hairdresser. He will eat with all the others. He will call us every week, we will visit him much more. He will even be able to watch TV and have a job to earn his own fucking money. And who knows, if he behaves really well, he gets maybe the chance to get out before the ten years are over."

Daryl listened and wiped his nose into his formerly snot-free sleeve. "He never behaves well."

It was a mumbled explanation in low tone, but Negan heard it anyway. He chuckled, kissing Daryl's forehead before he patted his butt. "Well, that was before he knew me. Now get into the car, you wanna write a letter to your brother and stand in the corner for ten minutes before your fucking party starts."

----

Daryl was in no rush to get out of the corner. Actually he was pretty comfortable with his hands up and legs spread, standing at the wall like a semi-invisible addition to the club, while all around him everybody seemed to be busy with party preparations.

Olivia carried cheese platters, fruit baskets and mountains of gluten-free pastries around, wiping small beads of sweat from her hairline. Eugene installed the lighting. Abraham helped Joseph to change the seating arrangements. And Simon was busy stocking the bar.

"Looking good, boy!" He carried a box of Vodka on his shoulder and a crate of beer in his hand, grinning widely. "Chin up, chest out! Like a hard-nosed soldier!"

Jesus chuckled on his place on the floor between Daryl's legs, then held his phone up to show the time. "Three-two-one-aaaand done!" He patted Daryl's shoe. "Are you allowed to watch Jurassic Park now?"

"Hm." Daryl took his hands off the wall, shrugging. He hoped so, because he really didn't want to be at the club when the guests arrived.

"Was it ten?" Negan walked by with a clipboard, signed a delivery, then handed it back to Rick.

"Yes, Sir." Paul rose gracefully to his feet. "Would you mind if we go upstairs to watch TV for a while?"

Negan got a tissue out of his pocket and made Daryl blow his nose. "Yes I would. I want you to nap for a while. Will be a long night."

Daryl inhaled, but blew just weakly into the tissue because he exhaled accidentally through his mouth.

Negan put a hand to the back of his sub's head and squeezed his nose. "Again!" This time it was done to his satisfaction and he folded the tissue, handing it over to his janitor, who happened to walk by. "Boy." He snapped his fingers in front of Daryl's face, expecting full attention. "You wanna go sleep in Paul's bed, or yours."

Daryl sniffed his nose even though it had just been cleaned. He didn't want to sleep at all. He wanted to stay with Negan. So he pointed a finger at him and answered a gruff 'With you'.

Negan gave him a scrutinizing look, then waved two fingers, "Paul. Go get a pillow and a blanket." before he snapped them for Daryl. "And you, to my office."

----

After two hours of work and three phone calls, Negan leaned back into his 753 dollar leather desk chair, sipping his water. Daryl was still sound asleep, curled up on the couch, wearing his new leather jacket, his face partly hidden underneath a red, comforting scarf, one arm dangling down to where Tiger slept on the grey carpet. Negan watched the peaceful scenery for a while, then got up and left the door slightly open as he went outside.

He needed fresh air.

He needed a drink or ten.

He needed someone to bring Will Dixon back from the dead just so he could murder him all over again.

Not accidentally, like Merle had done it in a moment of rage. But slow and painful. Dismembering would be good. Or disemboweling. Anything to have him suffer for a damn long time. And still it wouldn't be enough for the things he had done to his sons. His own flesh and blood.

For a moment, Negan wasn't sure where to go. Not sure what to do with himself. He felt like bursting. Angry, devastated and overwhelmed.

And leaving his office didn't seem to help. He walked up to his garage, looked inside for a minute without really looking at his vehicles, and then leaned with his back against the wall, all of sudden wishing he had never quit smoking.  

He just couldn't get her out of his head, that woman he had specifically asked for to appear as witness. Margaret Greene. He couldn't forget her pale face and afflicted expression. Her voice telling about that one time, when her eight year old student Daryl Dixon had been crying inconsolably because the older children made fun of him. Teasing him he was a girl. On his period. Because his pants were stained with blood.  

It took every ounce of his willpower to sit through the rest of the trial. To stay professional. To appear strong for his sub. To pretend that it was still good and fair that the only hero in this story, the only sane person in Daryl's life, still had to suffer for at least ten more years in prison. For a crime that shouldn't be considered as such.

"Hey." Rick's shirt was a little sweaty after carrying deliveries around for an hour. "Was looking for you. What are you doing here."

Negan didn't answer the question because he didn't know. Instead he stared straight ahead, the corner of his mouth lifting into a weird little smile as he huffed a laugh that held no amusement at all. "Can you imagine causing an injury so bad, a boy bleeds through his fucking pants. The next fucking morning."

Rick seemed taken aback by the topic his boss had chosen and avoided his eyes instantly, looking down at his boots. "I was thinking the same." It was true. The things he had heard this morning at the court would certainly stay with him for the rest of his life. Some people were bad. And some were monsters.

"Imagine it would be your kid." Negan pinched his nose, pushing off the wall. "You'd cut the guy's fucking throat."

Rick nodded, unbidden, disturbing pictures popping up into his head. He shoved them aside and looked up. "He's lucky that he has you now."

"Yeah." Negan grimaced, picking at a piece of loose cement at the wall. "Lucky boy."

----

Daryl woke up when a large German shepherd suddenly barked like a maniac right next to his ear. It made him cough and splutter, his throat burning like fire, his eyes welling up with thick tears when his body tried unsuccessfully to draw in fresh oxygen. He dropped off the soaked, grey couch and went on all fours, gagging and retching until the horrible pain in his lungs slowly vanished and he could take a breath. He noticed how the door flew open and Tiger stopped barking. He felt a large hand patting his back and heard soothing words, spoken in clear, loud voice, giving him direction, letting him know what to do to feel better. He blinked his stinging, blurry eyes and saw vomit on the carpet between his hands and on them. A thick trail of yellowish saliva running down his lips.

"Good boy." Negan held his sub by the back of the neck, sweeping a finger through his mouth to clear it from remaining vomit. "You wanna take a deep breath, right. All okay."

Daryl coughed and dropped his head, his throat feeling sore and something stung in his nose. Still he tried to speak. "I clean it."

"Aha." Negan rose to his feet, pulling Daryl slowly with him, rubbing his back. "But you can't. You go upstairs with me and take a bath." He shoved Daryl towards the door, gesturing for Rick. "Be good and get Joseph."   

Rick made a step aside, letting them through. "He's busy. I'll do it." A pang of something warm swirled through his stomach when a hand reached out to affectionately touch his cheek. He looked down, trying not to smile.

----

Daryl slid down in the hot, green water wishing the tub would expand so he could swim like in the pool. It was awesome for how long he was able to hold his breath by now. He was almost as good as Jesus.

"Alright, that's enough." Negan reached down, grasping his sub's chin to pull him up. "Sit." He wiped the wet strands off Daryl's face and handed him a wash cloth. "You wanna wash yourself and be quiet. Paul can't wait to read for you."

"Hff." Jesus couldn't have looked less excited as he slumped down on the toilet lid, cross legged, and opened the heavy book his brother by choice had received for his birthday. "I really don't know why I deserve a punishment." It wasn't his fault that 'Eye of the Tiger' was on the radio and his feet had a natural reaction to it. "You didn't say dancing is off the table."  

"I didn't say you are fucking punished. I said stop distracting my fucking cleaning lady and go read for my Daryl like a good boy." Negan tapped his finger on the passage about Placodonts and nothosaurs. "Chop, chop before his fucking water gets cold."

Jesus glared after one of his Dads as he left the bathroom, mumbling his grievances in low voice, "If my tongue ties up in a knot I swear I will-"

But not low enough for Negan's sensitive bat-hearing. "What was that!"

"I will thank you for the opportunity to learn about prehistoric life, Sir!"

"Mhm." Negan let it slip, throwing some fresh clothes for Daryl onto the bed. "Read!"

----

An hour later Daryl sat on the bed, clean and freshly dressed, holding a heated discussion while his tousled hair was combed. "He was badass."

"Noo, I swear he was just a poser!" Paul laughed and pulled his elbows back, flapping his hands right by his chest to demonstrate very tiny T-rex arms. "He walked around and was all like 'Oh look I'll eat you!' but then he couldn't grab his dinner and littlefoot made fun of him."

Daryl squinted, trying to make sense out of the explanation and decided after 12 seconds that it was bullshit. "Nah. 's bullshit."

Negan came in, patting Paul's butt. "Go downstairs and help Olivia. I'm there in a minute."

"Only if you say the magic word." Jesus smiled brightly at Negan and then cleared his throat and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear when he earned a blank stare. "See you in a minute, Sir." He got on his tip-toes, kissed the perfectly trimmed scruff on a warm cheek, ruffled Daryl's neatly combed hair and jogged out, downstairs to the club.

"Are you pretty for your party?" Negan adjusted his sub's shirt because it was too big on his body. "Everyone's excited to see you, right?"

"Hm." Daryl looked down at his fingers then hid them inside his too long sleeves. "Can I stay here."

Negan wasn't surprised by the question and actually had the same thought on his mind, feeling not at all like entertaining people. But just ignoring Daryl's birthday wasn't an option either. "You don't wanna eat cake? I ordered it myself." He smirked and wagged his eyebrows when Daryl glanced up in slight interest. "Because I can't fucking bake."

Daryl chuckled. That surely wasn't true. "'s not true."

"You think? Am I fucking awesome at everything?" Negan got a nod for an answer and decided to let the non-verbal answer slip without a strike. Instead he held his hand out, nodding towards the door, and it was taken after seven long seconds of hesitation.

----

"What's his problem." Lori gave her ex-husband a very reproachful look with a nod towards the quiet young man who hadn't greeted anyone or spoken a word since his guests had arrived. "We skipped aunt Mildred's birthday to be here. Because you said it is important." She handed her little daughter a cracker, almost nudging her face with it because she didn't look. "But obviously he couldn't care less, Rick."

Shane sighed, looked in the other direction and spread his legs a little wider. God, he wished he could drink. A lot.

"It's complicated." Rick leaned closer to the former love of his life, trying to be discreet and keep his voice down. "He had a hard day."

"Oh, and he is the only one?" Lori was really annoyed by her insensitive ex. "I was called into school today because your son had his third C in Spanish this year. Your daughter drives me crazy all night because she just won't sleep, and since Laura moved to Vancouver I have nobody to talk to anymore, you know?" She wiped her fingertips along her lower lids carefully, trying not to smear her eyeliner. "Life is really tough for all of us." She tried her best to keep her emotions at bay but it was hard.

"I know." Rick rubbed his temple, closing his eyes. There was his migraine again. "Just... eat some more onion bread. Olivia made it herself."

"Oh, you know I'm on a diet, Rick!" She got up, furiously, dragging her daughter a little too fast towards the cold buffet, making her stumble, twice.

"You need your pills?" Paul combed a sympathetic hand through curly hair, studying his boyfriend's tired face. "You need your pills. I'm right back."

"So that's your club." Carol looked around in a very restrained manner, holding on to her champagne flute as if it was the only ally she had. "Interesting." It didn't even look that spectacular. She had no idea why everyone made such a big deal out of it.

"Eugene." Negan waved two fingers. "Give her the grand tour."

"Wait! I come, too!" Carl put his gigantic plate of food down, shoved a couple of bacon puff twists into his pocket and followed Mrs Peletier and Mister Porter to the more interesting parts of the Leather Factory, ignoring his mother's protest.

"Great." Lori came back with a plate full of roast meat, onion bread and garlic butter, annoyed when her daughter stumbled over her own feet for the 7th time in a row. "Why don't you just take him downtown to the Asian brothel." She sat down, shooting her ex-husband a withering glare. "What kind of father are you? I wish you would use your brain once in a while."

Shane sighed again, getting up. "Forgot the present in the car." He held his hand out for Rick. "Coming?"

Rick knew it was just a light box with a new pair of shoes. But going outside to the parking lot sounded like a trip to the heavens right now, so he accepted the hand and followed along.

"Don't know what it is but this one has a hint of orange to it." Simon licked his lips, reading the label of the freshly imported French Vodka he had ordered for the bar. "Goes down smoothly. Crisp finish." He held the glass out for Daryl. "Try."

"Hm." Daryl shook his head. He wasn't the biggest Vodka fan and just wished the party would be over already. All his life he wanted to have a birthday party. With candles, balloons, presents and a lot of guests wishing him good things, health and luck. But now that he had a party, it wasn't fun at all. He didn't feel like talking to anyone, he wasn't in the mood to laugh when Abraham told one dirty joke after another, and he got nervous every time Paul put a new song on, because he was afraid he would have to dance. Not even the table with all the presents was nice, as he didn't want to open them while everyone was looking.

"Boy." Negan snapped his fingers and got up, patting the back of his thigh. He went to the long table where Olivia had built an impressive buffet. "What do you want."

Daryl shrugged, his stomach rumbling as he looked at the mountain of roast meat. "Nothin."

"Mhm." Negan handed his sub an empty plate. "I'm hungry. You wanna pick something nice for me."

"Okay." Daryl flicked his head and looked for confirmation up at his owner before he reached shyly for a longish pastry with bacon inside and then piled as much food as possible onto the plate. Especially roast pork and duck with crispy skin, because Negan would surely like that.

"Good job." Negan didn't comment on the truckload of meat laying on a pile of pastries and cut fruit, topped with mustard and cocktail sauce. "Where should I sit."

Daryl looked around, thinking the lonely corner with balloon decorations looked like the best place in the room. "Over there." He sniffed his nose, not sure whether his choice was right.

But Negan seemed to like it, because he patted his thigh and walked straight up to the chosen place, sitting down on the ground with his back against the wall, sighing deeply. "Come here, birthday puppy."

Daryl crouched down between bent legs, holding the plate out. "You can eat." His suggestion was spoken in rough voice and didn't sound very friendly.

Negan took a piece of meat anyway and popped it into his mouth. "It's good. You want some?"

"Okay." Daryl shrugged once more, opening his mouth. It was the best duck he had ever tasted and it was barely down when he opened his mouth again.

Negan smirked, feeding him more. "Was a silly idea to have a fucking party today."

"No." Daryl felt guilty instantly. "I like it."

"I don't." Negan fed his sub something that was covered with cocktail sauce, then held his fingers out, "Clean." and watched a pink, warm tongue snaking around his fingers without hesitation. "Would rather be alone with my boy."

Daryl slurped a spot of sauce off a long finger, then stopped and glanced up through his tousled bangs.

Negan tilted his head to the side. "On the couch, with a boring movie, drinking fucking Belgian beer."  

Pictures of a red cup and a black leather sofa popped into Daryl's mind, making his belly tingle. "Okay." They could do that. In underwear, sucking nipples.

Negan slid his tongue along his teeth, smiling faintly as he squinted one eye. He didn't say anything, but loved that his smile was returned.

----

At almost 10 PM, the somewhat subdued mood changed into a really cheerful atmosphere when Lori had to leave the festivity to take her youngest child to bed, after a vociferous argument, whether a 15 year old should be allowed to stay at a birthday party until past midnight.

A very proud Mister Grimes won and made his son a happy kid by allowing him to enter the DJ booth with Jesus, who had an exceptional permission to wear headphones and play some music in Daryl's honor.

At 10:30, Olivia carried a big birthday cake towards the lounge area of the club, singing in shy voice. Her cheeks were glowing happily when she placed the cake in front of Daryl, asking him to blow out the candles and make a wish.

Daryl scowled at the cake because he felt so embarrassed. Then he pulled a shoulder up and glanced at Negan, when he saw that it wasn't a dinosaur cake. It was round and white, with words on top, written in chocolate. 'All the best for Daryl and Merle - Happy Birthday'.

"Because we missed his birthday." Olivia tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, then presented a food storage container with blue lid out of the Martha Stewart collection. "We will freeze a piece for him until you visit him again."   

Daryl sniffed his nose and gave Negan another glance, earning an encouraging smile.

"Go on, puppy. You wanna make a nice wish."

Everyone was really quiet when Daryl inhaled and then all people applauded when the air smelled like freshly blown out candles. Daryl didn't look up, but the butterflies in his belly flapped their wings. His wish wasn't for himself. It was for Merle, who hopefully got a really nice cell buddy. A cool guy without tie and shiny shoes. Or maybe a girl with long blonde hair. He liked those the most.

At 11:03, the Factory's club was quite crowded. A lot of people had joined the party who weren't considered close friends or family. Mostly guys from the Eagle, a few of Negan's business partners, some people from the table tennis academy and the swim club. Daryl didn't mind, because there was no Marc, Ben, Bob or any other slut invited.

At 11:53, Negan got up and raised his glass, putting a protective hand to the back of his sub's head as he spoke.

Daryl hid his face at Negan's shoulder, hating all the attention while he loved the wonderful nice, deep words vibrating through a broad chest.

The toast was ended with "Strong, smart, beautiful... and luckily mine", and strong fingers raising Daryl's chin for eye contact and a gentle kiss, that let the whole crowd erupt in applause and excited hoots.

At 0:34, Simon took a polite half bow in front of Mrs Peletier, because Shane had started a line dance session to one of Rick's favorite Country songs on the dance floor, and he really wanted her to join. She blushed a little and claimed that she really couldn't dance, but then did fine anyway.

At 0:47, Carl stood all by himself in the DJ booth, while Jesus went through the gigantic pile of colorful boxes and cards on Daryl's gift table, shaking each one of them for three seconds to guess what's inside. He detected seven boring books, 3 DVD's, some sex toys, a bunch of clothes and a longish gift that somehow had the shape of an umbrella. He put it back down and squinted his eyes suspiciously at a guy standing a bit solitary near the wall, searching something in a trash bin. "I bet that's from Fred. He's weird."

"Hm." Daryl thought so too and pulled his shoulders up to sniff at the collar of his fantastic leather jacket. Negan's gift was awesome.

At 1:33, Rick approached his boss at the bar. "I'm taking Carl home." He seemed almost coy after sharing this information, avoiding his eyes as he searched for the right words. "And I would also like to ask..." He put his hands on his hips, looking down. "If Shane and I could spend the night here. With Paul." Relief dropped off his features as the request was out.

Negan leaned at the bar counter, rolling his tongue behind his teeth. "Sure. Don't forget to send him upstairs for his report."

Rick nodded, studying the worn down leather of his boots. "Thank you." A large hand cupped the side of his neck, making him feel better instantly.

"Thank you for playing by the rules."

At almost two in the morning, Negan sat in his broad leather armchair, sipping his Scotch while he listened with half an ear to one of Eugene's stories about Dr. T. Brooks Ellis and the Human Genome Project. But what he was really focused on, was the insecure man, wearing one of his shirts and a brand new leather jacket, standing near the dancefloor. He just watched all the people dancing, flicked his head now and then, and once, a brief smile flickered over his face when Jesus put the Duck-song on for a certain puppy and all the men laughed and sang along.

Two minutes later the slightly happy expression vanished completely and was replaced by shame and envy, because the music was changed to a love ballad and most of the men on the dancefloor opted for a slower, more intimate dance style.

 "You wanna hold this for me, big guy." Negan got up, handed his drink over and made his way through the crowd to stop right in front of Daryl, leaning in even closer to speak into a pale ear. "You wanna know a secret, boy?" He waited for a shy nod that he knew would come, then whispered his answer. "I can't dance."

Daryl blinked through his long bangs when a deep voice and warm breath tickled the side of his face, before long fingers laced around his and a tall man with slicked back hair and heavy, black leather jacket led him through all the people onto the dancefloor, like a mighty king, just without crown and sword. He froze and dropped his head in embarrassment, but strong arms looped around his body to pull him close against a broad chest where he could hide his face in soft fabric and the smell of warm leather and musky cologne. He could hear a deep chuckle vibrating against his body and rough facial hair brushing over his head and along his cheek.

"Look at that." Negan slipped a hand into the backpocket of Daryl's pants, swaying barely noticeably to a corny song from REO Speedwagon. "We're doing fucking great."

Daryl didn't answer. He could hardly breathe and dug his nose even deeper into the crook of a warm neck, ten fingers holding on to the smooth leather of Negan's jacket. The butterflies in his belly were too stunned to react. Tiny lights flittered all around them and he blinked twice before he closed his eyes. There was no need to look to know for sure that right now he was just like all the others. Like all the other people on the planet. All the people in Atlanta. All the men on the dancefloor. He did something normal, for normal people. With the king of his world.

Jesus was a bit bored, dancing slowly behind the turntables, letting his eyes wander through the room, over the dancing crowd, and then raised his head perplexed and bit his lip, a warm smile spreading over his whole face as he denied himself the happy squeal he wanted to let out ...

... seeing one of his Dads, the tough and cool one, standing completely still in the middle of the dancefloor, holding Daryl's head in both hands for a deep, passionate kiss.

He grabbed his phone for a picture and put the song on repeat. Love suited Negan well.

❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤

fin :)

Chapter Text

Georgia usually didn't experience many snow storms. Winter weather here was generally mild and tolerable. However, on December the 11th 2017, the good people of Atlanta woke up to their city blanketed with almost four inches of freshly fallen snow, after an unexpected, nightly blizzard had hit their beloved hometown out of nowhere.

Which was odd, because just three days prior the weather had been in the high 70s, low 80s and the sudden change now led to a little bit of drama and mayhem. Cars stranded on the wintry roads, schools were closed, people ran in unsuitably footwear to the next grocery store to stock up on water and batteries just in case the world was close to an end.

But after the first shock, and Christmas just around the corner, most people adapted to the situation rather quickly and started to enjoy their unforeseen winter wonderland.

At 8:31 AM, the snow was still falling, thick flakes drifting softly down in front of the high factory windows. And with every new flake tumbling to earth, adding to the magic of this frosty winter's day, the lines on Negan's grim face grew deeper.

"Yeah. No fucking climate change my fucking ass." He flashed his eyes at a beautiful tiny ice crystal daring to whirl right against his window pane, then glared back over his shoulder, looking as if he had smelled something foul, when Olivia topped her new hot chocolate creation with another marshmallow, singing along to 'Frosty the Snowman' out of the radio.

"Uh oh." Paul sensed some peevishness in the festively decorated room. "I guess Daddy's not a jolly happy soul today." He went up to the windows and got on his tip-toes for a sweet kiss on the cheek. "Good morning, Sir."

Negan returned the affection briefly, then squinted, tugging the front of his sub's colorful sweater. It was red with two fighting gingerbread men and the word GINJAS underneath. "What the fuck is that."

Jesus looked down on himself, admiring his outfit with a loving hand rub. "My aunt Maria sent it to me. It's my new Christmas sweater."

"It's fucking butt-ugly." Especially with the silver, gold and green snowflakes along the sleeves. They had enough of that shit in the driveway.  

Paul pulled the front out, evaluating the design. "I think it's festive."

Negan waved two fingers towards the couch. "I think you should help Daryl with his reading exercise until it's time for fucking breakfast."

"Five minutes, Sir!" Olivia chirped from the kitchen, cutting the apple slices in tree-shapes.

"As you wish." Jesus smiled, kissing Negan's cheek again and strolled off, to somersault over the backrest of a big black leather sofa, landing right next to Daryl, who tried to decipher the word 'petrified' in his new book about fossils. "What are you reading?"

Daryl sniffed his nose and gave Paul a side glance, frustrated with himself, because he had no idea right now what he was reading. Everything sounded like a different language.

"Let me see." Paul grabbed the book and made himself comfortable, his feet on Daryl's lap, his head on the armrest. He studied the text for a moment, then pretended to read, with his finger on the page. "Daddy hated Christmas. Actually the whole Christmas season."

Daryl squinted in skepticism, not sure where the word 'Daddy' had been in the book.

Paul proceeded with the story. "Now, please don’t ask why. No one quite knows the reason." He flipped the page, speaking like a wise, old Harvard professor. "It could be that his head wasn’t screwed on just right. Or perhaps his shoes were a little too tight. But I think that the most likely reason of all, may have been that his dick was just two sizes too sm- OU!" He chuckled and took his arms up for cover when the book was taken out of his hands and slapped across his head.

"You wanna go write fucking petrified a hundred fucking times. Maybe you're done before your breakfast's cold."

Paul hid his face in his palms, his chuckle sounding more despondent now. "Man..."

"Daryl." Negan snapped his fingers on the way to the table. "Here."

Daryl tucked some hair behind his ear, looking back and forth between Jesus and the tall angry man, then got up and followed the invitation. He felt bad that Paul had made fun of Negan. He sat down, touching Negan's arm with one finger, trying to offer some comfort. "'s not true."

Negan didn't put his newspaper down, trying to bite back a smirk. "No? You like my cock, boy?"

"Hm." Daryl nodded. He really did. "Yes."

"Is it big enough?"

"Yes."

"How big is it?" Negan didn't care that his cleaning lady was just about to serve his tea, blushing violently.

Daryl sniffed his nose, putting both of his hands up to show the length. "7,4 inches."

Negan squinted, lowering his newspaper. "How the fuck do you know that?"

Daryl blinked through his long bangs, then pointed innocently at Paul who crouched in front of the coffee table, scribbling on a piece of paper.

"It was on towleroad, Sir." Paul was already annoyed and it was only his third 'petrified'. "And I have great visual estimation."  

Pictures of deliciously male genitals danced through Olivia's head as she hurried back to the kitchen, trying not to trip and stumble.

Negan sighed, shaking his head. "You wanna eat, boy." He tapped the table next to Daryl's plate, taking the newspaper back up to read the weather forecast. "Then we go and buy you a new fucking jacket. Don't want you to freeze to death out there, right?"

"Hm." Daryl sniffed warily at a star-shaped piece of mango before he gave it a lick and glanced out of the window with the pretty snow flurry behind. "Right." Maybe they could also go ice fishing, or ride a snowmobile.

----

"Can we get one?"

"Hold on a sec." Negan glanced back over his shoulder, phone at his ear, when boy number two stopped in the middle of the parking lot, pointing at a guy selling Christmas trees. "No."

"But why not?" Jesus hurried after one of his Dads, dragging Daryl along. "It would look pretty in the living room."

"It would look like a fucking dead tree shedding its god damn needles all over my awesome Italian hardwood floor."

Daryl tucked his chin into the thick collar of his brand new North Face winter jacket. He liked it a lot.

"But where will you put all my Christmas prezzies?" Paul stopped as they reached the car, snuggling up to Daryl's cozy sleeve, while Negan put three bags of new winter clothing into the trunk.

"Yes, alright. See you later. Bye." Negan ended the phone call, shut the trunk and opened the door for his subs. "Who says you get any fucking gifts. I thought they are for good boys." He snapped his gloved fingers against Paul's ear.

Paul rubbed it, then bit into a black leather glove, smirking. "I'm okay with a gift for naughty boys, Sir."

"Christmas's bullshit." Daryl scowled at the Christmas tree seller a last time, then climbed onto the backseat. He never had one and he certainly didn't need any silly tree now. Or gifts. Or cookies.

"Mhm." Negan pursed his lips, handing Daryl his phone. "You wanna call Simon. Tell him to meet me at the office in thirty minutes."

----

"I really don't know why we couldn't get one at the shopping center." Jesus was cold, even with his sweater and his coat. Snow fell like confetti on his woolen beanie and got caught in his beard. He gazed at the untouched white blanket in front of him, tensing his muscles. "Really, I mean they cut them already for our convenience." He buried his gloved hands deep into his coat pockets. Yet even then the chill seeped in and his teeth began to chatter. "Sweet baby Jesus, why can't Christmas be in summer."

Daryl inhaled the crisp, cool air, his eyes sparkling just like the freshly fallen snow on the treetops. He enjoyed everything about this trip. Wearing his new winter clothes, the crunch underneath his awesome new boots as he strode forward through the woods, and the best of all... doing such an important task for Negan instead of napping. He didn't like silly Christmas, but finding the best tree in the woods for the Factory and cutting it down himself, was the best order he had ever received.

"Ya see, boys," Simon carried his axe over his shoulder, leading the way. "Finding your coniferous Christmas buddy on public land is an art. You want to choose one with personality! The tree will be a house guest destined to be introduced to your uncles and besties. So you want to feel comfortable talking about how you met!"

Paul wrinkled his nose against the gentle flakes tumbling on his face. He had no idea what Simon talked about. "I think I need to tinkle." He also needed to go back home to be comforted by Olivia, with hot chocolate and oven-heated socks. "Can't we just take this one?" He nodded towards a random tree. "It has branches and needles. Let's cut it and go home. I think my knees are frozen."

"Naa." Simon shook his head, poking his finger against one of the sharp needles. "Spruces are beautiful, but they sting like a paper cut on your foreskin."

"Hm." Daryl agreed.

Paul pressed his thighs together. Not only because he really had to pee.

"How about this one." Simon pointed up a bushy, 9-foot tree. "Douglas fir! The majestic king of the treeworld!"

"Hm." Daryl agreed again, his cheeks glowing with happiness as Simon handed him the axe.

"There you go, boy! Make Daddy proud!"

----

Negan smelled his sub before he entered the office. Fresh air and resin. "Have you been good?" He didn't look up from his text, finishing a mail to one of his business partners in Europe.

"Yes." Daryl wasn't aware that he created watery-brown footprints on the formerly clean carpet. He was much too excited as he stepped next to Negan's desk. "Can you come." Upstairs. To see the awesome tree. He had put it up all on his own, with a bit of Simon's help.

Negan finished typing his sentence. "Do I have time to come upstairs with you?" He sent the mail and moved back with his chair, waving Daryl closer. His new jacket was dirty, his hair tousled and his cheeks flushed, a smudge of dirt on his forehead. "In an hour. Come here. Tell me how it went."   

Daryl sniffed his nose, crouching down between Negan's legs. "Good."

Negan smiled, inspecting his sub's dirty hands, sticky with resin. "Where is Paul."

"'the bathtub." Because he was freezing and had seen a squirrel with crazy eyes.

"Mhm. And you don't need a bath?"

"Mh." Daryl pulled his hand back, wiping it into his dirty jacket. Then he tensed when his jaw was grasped tightly and Negan gave him a stern look. "I don'." He could just wash his hands at the sink.

"I will take a shower with you when I'm done. Go wait upstairs for me. I'll come in an hour, then you show me my tree." Negan could tell that Daryl wanted to say something. He released his jaw and pinched his chin instead. "What, puppy."

"I cut it down."

A smile moved over Negan's face, more visible in his eyes than on his lips. "Is that true. You are a fucking manly puppy. I've never cut a tree."  

The left corner of Daryl's mouth lifted, just as his shoulder. "Can show you." He sniffed his nose, not sure if two 9-foot trees would fit into the living room. "Next year."

Negan studied the dirty, flushed face in front of him, loving the insecure flicker in blue eyes. "You wanna stay with me until next year?" The insecurity was replaced by vivid determination. He loved that even more.

"Yes." Daryl put a finger on his collar, just in case it was forgotten.

Negan pursed his lips, nodding. Then leaned in close to sniff a dirty forehead before he kissed it. "That's fucking good news."

----

Jesus sat in bed with his laptop to edit his new vlog, watching out of the corner of his eye as Negan undressed. Completely. Tossing every piece of clothing he wore into the laundry basket, before he leaned down to share a very unexpected kiss. Deep and open mouthed, with a hungry tongue and five fingers wrapped into long hair.

"I wanna fuck you."

Paul felt a little dizzy and breathless when Negan pulled back and vanished into the bathroom. "Okay?" He scratched the back of his head, licked his lips and tried to concentrate on his work again, typing 'horny night' instead of 'holy night'.

Negan didn't pause or give a warning, just opened the shower door and stepped to his sub underneath the water. It wasn't hot enough for his liking, so he adjusted the temperature, closed his eyes and tipped his head back, letting the water spray his face for a moment, before he curled his fingers around the front of Daryl's collared neck and leaned in to dip his tongue between wet lips, in a long, slow stroke, enjoying the familiar taste he found.

He liked the small brownish waterdrops running out of Daryl's hair, and the small piece of a yellow leaf sticking to the man's shoulder along with a bit of moss. He groaned, kissing harder when a shuddered breath was exhaled right into his mouth and sharp fingernails dug into his side.

He adored Daryl's ingenuousness, and in moments like this, it made him absolutely crazy. "Are you mine?" He brushed his nose and wet beard along a blushed cheek, wrapping his fingers tighter around the silver steel collar he owned, just like the man wearing it. Sometimes he wanted it to become one with this gorgeous pale skin. "Hm. Tell me. Are you my pretty boy." He copied the nod he received in combination with a mumbled 'yes' and walked his sub backwards into the cool shower tiles, pressing him against the wet wall. "Oh yes? You wanna show me." He pulled back a bit, his fingers firmly in place around the man's throat, and watched as Daryl opened his mouth, submissively displaying his tongue. "Good boy. Look at that." Negan nipped parted lips and gave the pink silky tongue a slow lick before he gathered some saliva and spat it with force into his sub's mouth, growling at the sight. "Fucking gorgeous." He grabbed Daryl's wrists with a slight smile, pinning them up against the tiled wall, above the man's head, then widened his stance a little, delivering another slow, sensual lick across a willing mouth. "You wanna look down, puppy. Watch."

A wave of heat flushed through Daryl's body, making his skin burn and insides tingle, when he lowered his dazed eyes and saw a yellowish stream hitting his groin and thigh, mixing up with the shower water.

"What am I doing, boy." Negan nuzzled a wet ear, hearing Daryl pant and then moan as he stepped closer, chest to chest, not stopping his intimate act. "Feels so nice, right."

Daryl nodded, his heart almost jumping out of his chest. He looked up, wanting to say something but then didn't know what.

Negan brushed their lips together, staring into his sub's eyes, lightly sliding his tongue across Daryl's bottom lip. "Say thank you." He felt warm breath being exhaled against his mouth and a hard cock throbbing against his thigh.

"Thank you." It was a mumbled, throaty answer in very low tone, but Negan adored it anyway.

"Yeah?" He swept his tongue briefly between hot lips, then scraped them with his teeth. "Thank you for what, boy."

The butterflies in Daryl's chest fluttered in a hot mess of excitement and embarrassment. He wanted to point down but his hands were pinned against the slippery tiles, so he tried his best to speak, "The piss." and added a shy 'Sir' in the end because he really was very thankful.

"Good boy." The deep praising words dripped of pride and honesty. Negan released Daryl's wrists and rewarded him with another kiss, chuckling when timid fingers reached between them, squeezing a hard, leaking cock. "Ksst. Are you allowed to touch yourself."

Daryl exhaled a shaky breath, took his hands off and hid his face against wet chest hair. "No." He really wished he could be fucked right now.

Negan nipped a pale ear. "Horny puppy."       

----

It was almost three in the morning when Negan rolled over in bed and found only one boy by his side instead of two. There wasn't any light on in the bathroom, so he sighed and rubbed his face tiredly, willing his eyes to stay open. He got up and stopped in the doorframe, instantly finding who he was looking for, and still he was very surprised by the sight.

His normally very industrial looking apartment with the clear masculine design had suddenly an almost magical glow to it. In the middle of the night. With gentle snowflakes falling behind the high windows in the light of the street lanterns. And the 9-foot tree standing in his living room, filling the huge open space with the shine of its soft fairylights. The red, green and golden glass ornaments and tinsel reflecting the shimmer, only to be topped of with a sprinkling of artificial glittery snow on the branches.

He would have admitted that it was kind of nice, if it wouldn't have been so horribly tacky and absolutely lesbionic. He knew why it had been a bad idea to give his cleaning lady a credit card and the order to go to Home Depot and buy a little bit of decoration for puppy's first fucking Christmas tree.    

On the other hand... puppy looked arguably pretty. Standing in front of the tree, totally mesmerized, in the middle of the night, on the 12th of December. Sniffing his nose and flicking his head while he pulled his pajama pants up. Before he reached out with one finger to touch a green ornament... and then flinched startled when he heard someone behind him. The whole tree rustled and jingled as he pulled his finger back and crouched down on the floor. Because Negan was in the room and he felt so caught.

Negan suppressed a smirk when big blue eyes stared up at him and an evil fir needle was picked up from the floor and obediently presented to him. He squatted down. "Are you cleaning my floor in the middle of the night like a good boy?"

Daryl pulled his shoulder up, nodding sheepishly. "Yes."

"Hm." Negan accepted the fir needle. "You know why I want my floor clean at all times?"

"Yes." Daryl flicked his head to get a strand of hair out of his eyes. He knew it very well. "It's from Ireland."  

"It's from Italy. And I want it very clean because some of my boys and puppies spend a lot of fucking time down here." He wagged his eyebrows. "Right?"

"Hm." Daryl shrugged, glancing at the awesome tree he had cut in the woods for Negan. "'can do it for you." If that meant that the tree could stay a little longer.

Negan swiped the tip of his tongue along his teeth, nodding. "You may. Tomorrow." He got up, holding a hand out, "Now you fucking sleep." and pulled Daryl to his feet, dragging him back into the bedroom.

He couldn't wait until fucking Christmas was over. But in the meantime it wouldn't hurt to see how others secretly enjoyed it.

Chapter Text

NeganLetMeLoveYou91 wasn't in the best mood at 8 in the morning, sitting in the train somewhere in New York on the way to school. He hadn't really slept all night, after studying for his finals, a fight with his parents, and his boyfriend dumping him because he wanted to screw around with some twink from California.

He took a free seat between a very heavy guy with dufflecoat and a lady carrying a little poodle in christmasjumper. At first he thought he could maybe get a brief nap in, but then the poodlelady to his right started to chatter on the phone with a certain 'Gerti'. It was a very loud, very enthusiastic conversation about coleslaw and window cleaner.

He sighed, shook his head, and got his own phone out, untangling his earphones. He put them into his ears and flipped through his messages. Nothing new on Twitter, boring stuff on Tumblr, annoying people on WhatsApp, seven gut-hurting messages from his ex-boyfriend that he just took a glance at and felt his eyes well up again, so he switched quickly to Instagram. And smiled. Because there was a new post from the only person who never let him down and never failed to cheer him up. Negan. It was a video, not even 17 minutes old. He clicked on it and melted a little into the dirty train seat.    

There he was with his perfect scruff and soothing deep voice, wearing leather gloves and a scarf to his jacket. His nose and cheeks showed a very faint red glow, confirming the surprisingly low temperatures in Georgia. He was outside, squatting next to his dog. A large German Shepherd. He smiled and kissed the dog's snout, petting his fur and showered him with praising words. He told Tiger what a good boy he was... and then wished all the good boys out there a very happy Christmas time, or whatever the fuck they were celebrating. He winked into the camera, telling his audience what he always did, "You wanna be good for me. Love ya all."

NeganLetMeLoveYou91 blinked a silly tear away and sniffed once, his happy smile faltering a little in the middle of the crowded train. He loved this man so much, it was ridiculous. And like a hundred times before, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, knowing exactly what would bring him through this horrible day, the next week, and towards better times: Being a good boy for Negan. It was a task and a mantra he followed for more than a year now, at least every time he didn't know what else to do anymore, when real life just sucked too much and got unbearable. He got his shit together, gave himself a kick in the butt, and did his best. One step in front of the other. For Negan.

Like now, as he wrote a very honest 'Thank you so much. You will never know what you mean to me. Merry Christmas to you and your loved ones. Siddiq xxo', then got up and off the train, making his way towards school to write his finals. The short Instagram video on repeat, listening to a comforting voice and encouraging words for the next twenty minutes.

----

The Atlanta flagship outlet of the world’s largest gay fetish and lifestyle superstore ticked almost every conceivable box when it came to quenching dirty desires, no matter how hardcore the predilections were. And shopping in their industrial, boiler-house club-like setting, was always a great experience. But visiting the store in the weeks before Christmas was definitely an extraordinary adventure for members of the kinky community.

There were exclusive demos twice a day in the newly set up Torture Garden, autograph sessions with the Leathergod himself, and several red metal cages hosted scantily clad boys gyrating during late-night shopping for all 21+ customers.

Also, especially for the holiday season, the Leather Factory had expanded its in-house label by introducing the new 'Breathless'-collection, a limited line of leather and latex fetish-wear for men. Each piece signed by Negan himself.

As a result, the whole building was buzzing, the lines were long, and the team had to be enhanced by several temporary employees, like the cage dancers, more cleaning staff and Mister Rhee, the new intern.  

Still, after seven hours of smiling for selfies, scribbling his name on leather jackets and spreading fucking holiday cheer, the CEO and owner of the worldwide successfully operating Leather Factory was short from killing something cute. He shoved another bag with their best selling ball stretcher across the counter, watching his employee Mister Porter greeting arriving customers at the door, with the charm of a rusty lamp post. "Hey!" He whistled through the store, beckoning Eugene over. "What the fuck are you doing! I told you to greet everyone who walks through this fucking door with open arms and a welcome fucking warmer than the inside of a fucking freshly grilled cheese toastie!"

Eugene appreciated the constructive criticism, nodding. "I appreciate the constructive criticism, Sir. I am sure I could adapt my social behavior to the current circumstances. Radiate some love, joy and sympathy. With regards to the imminent festive period." He trotted off, back to the door. Dr Eugene Porter was a team player after all.

"Oh definitely, my good Sir!" Simon was the king of customer service, whizzing through the huge sales room like the godmother of all the forgotten perverts of the planet. "We have all the good-time goodies in fantastic abundance!" He gestured widely to the well stocked shelves. "Here we have a veritable apothecary of poppers. Over there a vast collection of inflatable sex toys." He leaned in closer to the sweaty man, sharing some interesting information. "Many with an appealingly manly aesthetic." He guided his new best friend to the next display. "Or maybe you are interested in some fine lingerie? I tell you we have more banana hammocks than you’d find at a fruit-themed beach resort."

Jesus was at the phone with his 53rd customer that day, patiently answering all questions, while he manicured his fingernails. "Yes Sir, we are specialized in tailored latex and leather clothing handmade in the US and Europe. We also sell a large variety of innovative sex equipment. And we even offer a 15 percent student discount."

"No we fucking don't." Negan put a ponyplay bit-gag and two packages of condoms in extra small into a black paper bag, handing it to his lovestruck customer, before he leaned closer for the 235th selfie of the day.

"Okay, we don't." Paul confessed to the person at the other end of the line. "But we have a really wide range of Square Peg silicone ass toys, if you're interested. You really should stop by."

"Uhm..." Mister Rhee approached the guy with the Cowboy boots behind the counter, scratching his head as he unfolded a long list. "So it seems like we need a Manaconda, a butt buster in blue, three joysticks, the small ass-gasm, a booty bender, a deep drill, the Ramrod in black, five assMasters, a butt throb, and the backdoor bouncer. But only if we have it by tomorrow 2 PM. Otherwise he wants the tush teaser."

"Got it." Mister Grimes seemed unimpressed, sticking the pencil back behind his ear. "We'll have it in the morning."

"Cool." Glenn gave his boss a friendly smile and went back to the storage room, pointing a confused customer in Simon's direction. "He'll help you, Sir. I am just the intern."

"Aah tell uncle Simon," Simon put an arm around the lost soul with glasses and bad haircut, who seemed to be just a blink away from wetting himself. "What's your particular peccadillo, my friend. Adult baby scenarios? Bondage? Medical play? Cross dressing?" He squinted one eye, sticking a knowing finger into the guy's pale face. "Or are we still working out which way we're wired! Ah? No reason to be shy around here, we're all a big family!"   

Daryl sniffed his nose, glaring at the wall right in front of his face, angry with every slut in the room.

"You wanna put your hands up, boy and stay in fucking position or you enjoy your special place ten minutes longer." Negan had parked his sub behind the counter, standing at the nearest wall for 42 minutes by now. It had been 30 minutes originally, but Daryl had given him the most annoyed sigh after 12, so he had generously extended the time-out. Busy store or not.

Secretly, just in his head, Daryl argued about all things unfair with the situation, how flogging demos at the store were really mean and that he would be a way better helper than the silly slut with the perfect black hair. He also wanted to say that he didn't hit the demo-slut, just pushed him a little and it was an accident that he had fallen into the fisting lube shelf. But then he didn't say anything and just adjusted his posture, because he really didn't want another ten minutes, and he felt a little guilty for making the tall angry man even angrier on this hard work day.

"I don't want to buy anything, Sir." A shy young man from New Mexico, with teary eyes and well worn Leather Factory fanshirt was the next in line, speaking to Negan with trembling voice, because he just couldn't believe how superior and mighty this man looked in real life. "I just wanted to see you once..." He squeezed his eyes shut, a tear rolling down his face. "... once in my life, Sir."

Negan was out of tissues by this point and bit back a sigh. He leaned over the counter for a hug, spreading some of his comforting alpha male scent. "What's your name, boy." He heard something similar to 'Domenico' mumbled against his soggy shoulder, and patted the young man's back. "Well, Domenico, thank you for coming here just to see me. You want to go with Rick. He'll give you a signed shirt."

"Yeah, yeah. I know." Mister Grimes offered a consoling back rub as he scraped the sobbing man off his boss and led him to the door with a pre-packaged Negan-fanbundle.  It was Christmas after all.

"Time's up, turn around." Negan stepped close behind his sub, shielding him from curious eyes. "You may apologize."

Daryl sniffed his nose and held his eyes lowered as he turned around, nestling with the front of Negan's white shirt. "'m sorry."

"What are you sorry for."

"The lube."

"And."

Daryl grimaced, still hating the pretty slut. "Your boy."

"His name is Taylor. And he is not my boy. I fucking pay him to assist me." Negan grasped his sub's chin, forcing eye contact. "This is business and you know it."

Guilt crawled through Daryl's chest, seeing Negan's serious face. He looked tired and stressed. "'m sorry." He really was.

"You better be." Negan released his chin. "Now go upstairs for a nap." He kissed a pale forehead and blindly waved for Paul. "You. Go with him."

Jesus hopped off the edge of the long counter, having just finished another phone call. "Go where, Sir?" He smiled brightly, wiping some fanboy-slobber off one of his Dads shoulders. "The zoo?"

Negan squinted, pulling the Santa hat off Paul's head. "Bed. You wanna be good and nap with Daryl."

"Uuuh..." Jesus entwined his fingers with Daryl's, purring happily. "A nap."

Negan stepped dangerously close into boy number two's personal space, staring him down. "Yes. A nap. No fucking groping."

Paul leaned backwards, his back bending like a circus-trained rattlesnake. "Yes Sir, no groping."

"Right." Negan gestured for his boys to leave and then tiredly rubbed his forehead. His annual New Year's vacation couldn't come soon enough.

----

It was already dark when Daryl sat up in bed, blinking his sleepy eyes open. He was alone. A black latex glove and a tiny Swedish paper flag on a toothpick lay on the mattress. He shoved both back underneath the pillow and got up, wiping some strands of hair out of his face on his way to the living room. The TV was on and the Christmas tree lights. He liked both a lot.

"Did you wake up, boy?"

"Hm." Something warm spread through Daryl's belly, seeing Negan sitting on the couch, in a baggy white shirt and grey pajama pants. It meant the store was closed for today and all office work was finished. "Jesus's not here." He knelt down next to Negan's leg, touching it with his fingertips.

"He is out seeing the fucking Nutcracker with Rick and Shane."

Daryl had no idea what that meant, but he knew that Jesus wasn't allowed to sleep anywhere but at the factory, so he didn't ask for more information.

Negan pinched his sub's chin. "Be good and get me a drink."

"Okay." Daryl got back on his feet and went to pour a glass of Scotch, measuring with two fingers because it was evening. He carried it back and paused for a moment, a hot flash shooting through his chest, making his skin glow because he had forgotten what he was supposed to say. He exhaled, smacked his lips and then remembered.  ''s your drink, Sir.' He handed the glass over.

"Nice job, boy." Negan took a sip and leaned into the backrest with a sigh. He was exhausted. "You wanna go get your phone and report."

Daryl didn't say anything, just followed the order. He needed a while to find the phone in all the pillows, sheets and blankets on the bed, and then sat down at the dining table to type, because he knew that Negan liked when he did that.

Good: - soop
          - snow
 Bad:   - slut
           - noise
 Like:   - piss, kissing, bike
 Hate:  - angry, list
Change: Negan working

He read over all the words, found no error and tapped on sending, then looked back over his shoulder when Negan's phone on the coffeetable vibrated.

"Daryl. Eat a banana, drink some milk and brush your teeth."

"Hm." The chair made a scraping noise on the expensive hardwood floor when Daryl got up to follow the order. He ate the biggest banana he could find, threw the peel into the right trash bin, wiped spilled almond milk off the countertop, put his empty glass into the sink, and cleaned up all the toothpaste that had fallen off his toothbrush from the pretty tiled floor in the bathroom, before he went back to the couch. "'m done."

"Come here then." Negan spread his legs, holding a hand out. "Read." He handed Daryl the phone.

Good: - soup -- I helped Olivia make awesome lunch for Negan. It tasted great!
          - snow -- I shoveled snow for almost two hours like a champ!
 Bad:  - slut  -- I misbehaved in public and hurt Taylor. Negan didn't like that at all!
          - noise -- I sighed while I was punished. That was disrespectful towards my owner.
 Like:  - piss -- I liked peeing into the toilet for Negan like a good boy, and being rewarded
             kissing -- I liked making out with Negan in the staff room :)
             bike --  I liked working on Paul's bike
 Hate:  - angry --  I didn't like when Negan had to correct my behavior
              list    -- I don't like that I won't be allowed to have a blue mark today, because I misbehaved
Change: Negan working -- I would prefer if Negan had more time for me and wouldn't have to work so much. But I want to remember that it will be better again once Christmas is over.

Daryl felt very much guilty as he read the corrected report. He really hadn't been very good. Now he had to start all over again because his row of three blue marks was destroyed by an ugly empty square instead of a fourth cross.

"Tomorrow will be better." Negan bathed a finger in the remains of his Scotch and held it out for Daryl. "Right?"

Daryl nodded, snaking his tongue out to lick the liquid off a long finger. "Yes." He looked up at Negan's tired face. "You can sleep."

The hint of a smile ghosted over Negan's lips. He cupped a warm cheek. "You want to have the house for yourself, puppy? Are you planning a party?" The shocked expression in blue eyes and vigorous shake of a head made him chuckle. "I can't sleep yet. I have to wait for Paul, right." He brushed pale pink lips with his thumb.

Daryl nestled into the touch. "I can do it."

"Hm." Negan sucked his tooth, looking at his sub for a long time before he leaned in close for a kiss. "Sweet boy."

----

Daryl guarded his owner and the wonderful apartment like the biggest treasure the world had to offer.

He filled up Tiger's water bowl, he washed the Scotch tumbler and milk glass in the sink and stored both back into the cupboard, he put a towel on the heater in the bathroom for Negan's morning shower, he made the bed for Jesus and set the table for breakfast, so Olivia wouldn't have so much work to do. Then he picked up seven evil fir needles underneath the pretty Christmas tree and quietly knelt down next to the couch, watching the relaxed expression on Negan's face. His chest was rising and falling rhythmically, his breathing slow and even. His features were much softer, the lines that had creased his brow for days by now replaced by the flawless appearance he was known for. He looked peaceful.

Daryl traced a tip of his finger along perfect lips, very lightly, not daring to fully touch them. Then leaned in close and brushed his nose through a short, rough beard, inhaling the scent of warm skin. More than liking everything about it.

----

Negan was asleep for four hours before Paul finally came back from the Atlanta Ballet's Nutcracker and Daryl put a finger to his lips, down on his place on the floor, in front of the couch, where he made sure that his king wouldn't wake up from his much needed rest.

He was a good boy for Negan and it made him feel ridiculously proud.





 

Chapter Text

There was no escape.

The whole building looked as glittery, sparkling and festive as it could possibly get. From the beautiful wreath on the red front door, over interminable elegant garlands and dozens of poinsettias in all sizes, to the jolly group of reindeer, angels, elves that had taken over every room and hallway. It smelled like Christmas, too. Like a pungent potpourri of oranges, cinnamon sticks, dried rosemary, cloves, pine cones and apple cider. It was nauseating. Especially under the constant stream of holiday music, letting Negan know how joyous he was.

After the 34th repetition of 'Joy to the World', resounding through the vast premises of the Leather Factory, the door of basement office number seven flew open, a tall angry man with leather jacket and slicked back hair stormed out, strutting straight up to the vintage CD-player his janitor had placed on the club's bar counter, and lunged out with his baseball bat, turning the little silver boombox with four precise swings into a sad pile of shredded plastic. He vanished back into his office without a comment, throwing the door shut.

"Fucking bullshit all day long." He put the bat on his desk and instead picked his ringing phone up. "Yes." He listened for a moment, before a faint smile brightened his grim face. "Sure, he's upstairs. Hold on a sec."

----

Daryl bumped his head accidentally into the bottom branches of the tree, making everything rustle and jingle, when the apartment door opened and his name was called.

"Did you pick up fucking needles like a good boy?" Negan pulled a fir needle out of his sub's tousled hair, loving the caught expression on a flushed face. "Here, you wanna speak to your brother. Sit over there." He handed the phone over, giving an encouraging nod.

Daryl shook his head, heat shooting through his body. Why was Merle calling now? That had never happened before and he really didn't know what to say. "Have to piss." He got up, trying to give the phone back.

"Ten minutes in the corner for lying to me." Negan didn't take it. Instead he shoved his sub towards the couch, making him kneel down in front of it. "After the call. Now say hello." He sat down himself, his legs left and right from Daryl.

Daryl hunched his shoulders, pulling an arm across his chest as he held the phone somewhere in the direction of his ear. "Hello. Daryl Dixon." It sounded gruff and not very polite but Negan seemed to be proud anyway.

He stroked the back of his boy's head affectionately, "Well done, being good for me, right." and saw him straighten his back immediately. "Ask him if Tyreese is still alive."

Daryl leaned into Negan's comforting touch, sniffing his nose. "Did you kill Tyreese."

Negan could hear Merle's hoarse laugh and then saw the interest spark in blue eyes when Daryl started to listen to everything he was told. About a fight on the yard, disgusting mincepie for lunch, Tyreese seeming to have some badass balls underneath all his cuddly soft brown skin. And about a new penpal, who sent regular letters to inmate Dixon for a few months now.

"'s she comin' for visit." Daryl held the phone with two hands, flicking his head because his long bangs tickled him.

"Come downstairs when you're done." Negan got up with a kiss on tousled hair, granting more privacy now that the conversation was going well. The happy chuckle he heard as he closed the door and jogged back down to the office made him smirk and almost forget the penetrating Christmas stench assaulting his nostrils.

----

The good thing about stinking cinnamon and tons of fucking tinsel in the factory was that Negan couldn't wait to take his boys swimming in the late afternoon.

Because Apex swimming had a no fucking holiday decorations policy and the only smell here was a mix of chlorine and the fear of the swimming instructor.

Negan walked up to the head of the pool, blowing his whistle once, then let it fall from his lips. "Boy! What are you doing. You wanna do your fucking warm up."

Daryl was stretching his left arm half-heartedly, looking around in search for Paul. "Where's Jesus." His question sounded a bit reproachful. They wanted to swim a race. Negan had said so in the car and now he was all alone at the pool.

"Paul volunteered to stand in the fucking corner for twenty minutes because he is a rude little shit. You wanna work on your time until he remembers his manners, right? Do your warm up." Negan clapped his hands twice. "Chop, chop."  

Daryl nodded and started to swing his arms in circles, taking deep breaths in and out to load his blood with oxygen. After two minutes he stepped onto the starter block, curling his toes over the edge.

"Ready?" Negan came closer, stop watch in hand. "What do you wanna do? Breaststroke?"

Daryl glanced at the perfectly flat water surface, then shook his head, pulling the side of his rubber swim cap. "Butterfly."

"Good boy." Negan was a sucker for ambitious aims. "Get in position." He watched as his sub bent over, head close to his knees, and grabbed the front of the block. "Ass up!"

Daryl lifted his hips as high as possible, closing his eyes, ready to give it hell. He would make it under 50 seconds this time.

He waited for the whistle to come, anticipation building in his body, his guts tingling with excitement. He heard Negan count, and then the shrill sound of the whistle splitting the air, making him push off with full force. He threw his arms forward and exploded from his bent crouch into a perfect streamline position, hooking his thumbs together, his chin resting on his chest as he entered the water. For a couple of seconds he remained under the surface, swimming in a smooth, wave-like motion, before he blasted to the surface and used the momentum he had built to make his first swim strokes as strong and powerful as possible.  

Negan monitored every movement with hawks eyes, shouting his criticism or approval through the hall. Daryl was highly focused, cutting through the water with targeted strength. He rotated his shoulders and whipped his arms simultaneously overhead out of the water, combined with a strong dolphin kick, just as he was taught. There wasn't much to criticize. "Looking good boy! Keep your rhythm!" He watched his sub finish the third lap and wall-flip for the final lane, then glanced at the stop watch, biting back a curse. It didn't look like he would beat the record. "Come on, sweetheart! Fucking speed up for me!" He hollered his encouragement, then went down on his knees, grabbing the edge of the pool, making sure he was seen. "PULL! YOU CAN FUCKING DO IT! COME ON!"

Daryl thought his lungs would burst. His arms hurt, his muscles burned like fire, but all he saw was Negan at the head of the pool, cheering him on like a maniac. Three more strokes, two, a last one and he reached up to the edge, panting for air.

"YES! FUCKING GOOD BOY!" Negan gave his exhausted sub a high five, then grabbed him by the forearm and pulled him out. "Fortyfuckingnine seconds!"

Daryl blinked the water from his eyes, a huge smile spreading all over his dripping face. He did it. One second faster.

"Am I fucking proud of you?" Negan grasped Daryl's chin, pulling him close to suck wet lips.

Daryl nodded, "Yes." the happy grin staying firmly in place.

Negan copied the nod. "You bet your ass."

----
Negan turned the key and nothing happened. He paused and tried again, then pulled the key out, put it back in, and tried once more. But nothing.

"I think the car doesn't start." Paul stuck his head past the headrest of the driver's seat. "Maybe because it's too cold."

Negan gritted his teeth. "Thanks for the tip."

"No problem, Sir." Paul smiled sweetly, climbing back on the backseat. "Should I call someone?"

"No." Negan flung some stuff into the glove compartment, threw it shut and grabbed his keys and phone. "Move it boys. We're walking."

----

There were worse things than strolling through the dark, snow-covered streets of Atlanta in the early evening.

"Yeah, right?" The light of the streetlamps bathed Paul's happy face in a warm, orange glow. "And if you turn your head super, super fast for a quick breath he won't even notice." He chuckled and wrapped his arms tighter around himself, pulling his coat closed and tucked his chin downward into his turtleneck pullover.

Negan zipped his jacket up all the way. "Or I notice and that's the reason you don't get fucking treats anymore after swimming."

"What?" Paul's head shot up, shock in his eyes. "You said they don't make them anymore!" He still mourned his beloved Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.

"I also said you wanna breathe every five fucking strokes." Negan stopped at the side of the street holding both of his hands out, expecting them to be taken. "You can't trust anyone anymore these days." He took his subs in a firm hold and dragged them across the busy street, looking to the left and right, then jogged the rest of the way.

Daryl followed along, respectfully walking one step behind Negan, holding on to the big, warm leather clad hand he was offered. He knew this part of town. He had seen it last year when the streets had been his home. He remembered sitting on the cold ground in front of a store, watching how everything around him was suddenly transformed into a Christmas market at the end of November. How all the lights were put up, as well as an enormous Christmas tree adorned with glistening ornaments and glowing fairy lights draped around. And festively designed wooden stalls, illuminated with brightly colored signs, got lined up along either side of the street. He remembered the mouthwatering smell of deliciously hot food filling the streets. All the pretty people swarming in and out of the decorated shops and bakeries like bees, carrying boxes and bags with secrets inside. He remembered the warm smiles of the merchants behind the stalls as they tossed freshly roasted chestnuts into paper cones or carefully poured hot chocolate into mugs and added generous layers of whipped cream for people with money and clean faces.

He remembered smiling with them sometimes, as he sat there in a distance, all alone and somehow invisible to the rest of the world, with an empty stomach and cold fingers.

He remembered the half eaten grilled sausage he had found next to a trash can and the popcorn a child had spilled on the way.

He remembered a woman with pretty purse and red lips looking at him with disgust in her eyes. But then she had tossed him a dollar without a comment. And he had been so happy and had wandered around all the stalls to buy something that smelled really good. He wanted the awesome roast meat with onions or the sausage grilled over open fire, but it had been all much too expensive. In the end he drank a cup of watery hot chocolate from McDonald's and just kept on watching from his spot on the ground how the normal people ate fantastic Christmas food.

"Boy." Negan snapped his fingers in front of Daryl's face for the third time, raising his voice a bit. "What do you want, ketchup or mustard."

Daryl blinked startled, snapping out of his thoughts. He looked around, back and forth between the stocky guy behind the stall holding a grilled sausage in a bun, and Negan with his beautiful face, cheeks slightly red from the cold. And he pulled his shoulders up and shook his head because he didn't want anything.

"Nothing." Negan handed the man a ten dollar note and blindly curled his fingers around the back of his sub's neck, squeezing a little. "Thanks." He took the food, guiding Daryl to the side for a bit more privacy. "What's the matter, puppy.  Are you unwell?"

Daryl sniffed his nose, glancing at a couple walking by with a huge bag of popcorn and a balloon in the shape of a reindeer. "'m not unwell."

"Mhm. Open." Negan held the sausage up, making him take a bite.

It was hot and kind of crispy and tasted even better than Daryl had imagined.

"Good?"

"Hm." Daryl nodded, swallowed and opened his mouth for more. The next bite was sausage and bun, the third too, and after that Negan smirked and leaned in to lick the corner of his boy's mouth, ignoring the appalled looks and comments of a group of elderly ladies with fluffy hats.

"Bratwurst! Awesome!" Jesus jumped up at Daryl's side, taking a huge bite of the food one of his Dads was generously holding, before he reported with full mouth what the past five minutes of his life had looked like. "Guess who I took a selfie with!" He grinned, holding his phone in front of Daryl's nose to show a photo of himself in a life-size nativity scene, giving a peace sign to a baby doll in the crib. "It's baby Jesus!"  He turned his phone around so Negan could see it as well. "I think that will be my Christmas card this year."

"Mhm. I told you to go take a fucking piss and then come back immediately." Negan pulled a piece of straw out of long hair.  

"I know, but they had a real donkey." Paul earned a blank look for his explanation and tried another route. "I also met Joey and Olivia. They made out like crazy over there at the 10-foot nutcracker."

"Great." Negan could have lived happily without that mental image. He sighed, split the last bit of sausage in half and fed each of his subs a piece. "Enough fucking boy entertainment for today. Daddy is exhausted. Time to go home."

Daryl liked that. He liked walking hand in hand with Jesus at one side and Negan at the other. He liked all the smells and lights the Christmas market had to offer. He liked that he wasn't sitting on the cold street. He liked that he wasn't invisible and that everyone who gave them weird looks was instantly challenged by a tall protective man who was never too exhausted to take care of his property.

He liked that Jesus tricked the tall angry man to walk past the stall with the candy and then had the right arguments to get him to buy a bag of sugar coated roasted almonds. He also liked the small gingerbread heart that smelled really awesome. Negan didn't buy it because a silly pink snowman was on it. Instead he bought the one that said 'You are my Sweetheart'. It had two small holes and a cord, and he put it around Daryl's neck with the most serious face, hiding it underneath a new black North Face winter jacket, so nobody would see the secret message written in white and red icing.

Daryl felt warm and tingly all the way home, listening to Paul and Negan talk about a movie they had seen a while ago, being fed with almonds from Paul, and with a raisin from Negan because he spelled the word 'soup' right on the first try.

He liked his life a bit. And Christmas.

Chapter Text

Jesus blinked up to the sky, wrinkling his nose against the thick snowflakes tumbling on his face. It was hopeless. At this point he was just shoveling the snow that fell on top of the snow he had already shoveled. He sighed, letting his shoulders drop. "Daddy!" The whiny tone of his voice sounded as despondent as he felt. "It won't stop!"

"Shovel." Negan carried some boxes of Champagne into the storage room, hating this day already. Christmas Threshold was even more annoying than the Valentine's one.

"But my hands are frozen, Sir!"

"No, they're not." Love as a party theme was bad, but love and joy combined was the worst he could think of.   

"But they are almost blue!" Jesus pulled one of his waterproof super snugly thermo gloves off, exposing rosy fingers to the world.

"Keep fucking shoveling." Negan squinted at the label of a box of pink colored alcopops, wondering if Simon had been stoned when he had ordered 100 bottles of 'Vodka Cruiser - Raspberry' for a god damn fetish party at a men-only leather club.

Paul put his glove back on and glared at one of his Dads, mimicking his deep voice. "No you keep fucking shoveling, Paul. Because I am tall and you are-"

"WHAT WAS THAT!"

"Nothing, Sir!" Jesus grabbed his shovel, hastily moving a few flakes from the left to the right. "I am just so grateful that I get to enjoy this beautiful winter weather!"

"Mhm." Negan heaved a crate of Upslope Christmas Ale the few steps down to the basement door. "Shovel."

----

A timid knock at the door made Negan glance up from his work in the early afternoon. "Yes, boy. Come in." Actually he was thankful for the interruption. His back hurt and a persistent headache had started in the back of his head an hour ago.

"Hello." Daryl had no real reason to come to Negan's office, other than missing him very much. He closed the door behind him and sat down on the grey couch, sniffing his nose. Maybe he could talk about the weather, but that didn't do very much except being cold and white.

Negan moved back with his chair, studying the shy figure sitting across from him. A strand of his hair stuck out at the side of his head and a smudge of red sauce was at the corner of his mouth, matching the dried drop on his chin. It relaxed Negan's tense jaw muscles instantly. "Did Olivia make lunch for you?"

Daryl nodded. "Hm."

"You want to answer. What did she make?"

"Spaghetti." It was a gruff reply, as if it was obvious that Olivia wouldn't make anything other than spaghetti on a Saturday in December.

Negan's mouth curved into a half smile. "Was it good?"

"Yes."

He lowered his voice into a secretive whisper. "What do you wanna say, boy." The curious twinkle in blue eyes made him forget about all the nerve-wracking business crap he had fought through all morning.

Daryl pulled his shoulders up but held shy eye contact across the room. "'t was good, Sir." His belly got all warm and happy when he received an approving nod with friendly smile and raised eyebrows. It made him smile himself. And blush a little, because he had done so well.

"It was, right? Thank you so much for answering so nicely." Negan tilted his head to the side, enjoying the effect his praising words had on his sub's posture and facial expression. "You wanna come with me for a moment?"

Daryl's eyes lit up. "Hm. Okay." He wiped some hair to the side and straightened his back.

"Okay." Negan got up, walked around the desk and held his hand out for Daryl. "Come on then."

Walking through the factory with Negan was wonderful. Everywhere around them people were busy with the preparations for the big Christmas Threshold in the evening. A lot of strangers ran around that Daryl had never seen before, and not one of them looked at him in a funny way. They were all friendly and respectful. Because Negan guided the way with long steps, strutting through his club like a king, head held high, his large hand firmly wrapped around his sub's fingers.

At the entry of the playroom, he held the black rubber strips aside for Daryl, and then walked him up to the high metal cabinet, searching for something. He found it on the upper shelf. A nice, sturdy plug, made of black silicone, the logo of the Leather Factory imprinted on the flat base. He sprayed it down with disinfectant, twice, and handed it to Daryl. "You wanna wear it for me at the party tonight?"

Daryl nodded. He wanted that very much. "Yes."

"Yes? Will it prepare your gorgeous ass for my dick?" Negan liked the faint pink color crawling from Daryl's collared neck up his cheeks and towards his ears. "So I can fuck you nice and slow when the party is over?" He stepped close, gently massaging the bulge in his boy's pants.

Daryl forgot to breathe. He stared up at Negan with round eyes, tensing the muscles in his thighs because it tingled everywhere in his lower body. "Yes."

"Yes, it does, right." Negan intensified his massage a little, letting his voice drop into a husky tone. "And it reminds you of your place all evening. Keeps your pretty puppy cock hard for me." He brushed his lips just barely along a glowing cheek. "Isn't that true, sweetheart."

Daryl's lips parted with heavy breathing. He clawed five fingers into Negan's shirt, nodding. "Can you now."

"Mh." Negan rubbed his nose over warm skin, enjoying the scent. "Can I fuck you now? That would be so nice, right. But I have work to do and you have to nap so you will be fit for the party." He nuzzled a pale ear, feeling a rock hard cock twitch in much too tight pants. "You wanna go upstairs and take a nice shower with Paul. He'll put that plug in for me, right? Then you take a nap until I come."

Daryl listened, touching his own butt in anticipation. "Right." Playing with Jesus was the next best thing if Negan was busy.

----

It was already evening, barely an hour until the first guests would arrive, when Negan made it out of the office and up to his apartment.

He went quietly into the bedroom, feasted on the sight of two naked, sleeping boys in his bed as he undressed, and then went to take a quick but extra hot shower. He dried off after six minutes, brushed his teeth and went back to the bedroom, stroking himself as he let his eyes roam over bare skin and submissively presented bodies.

The crack of Daryl's ass was still glistening with lube, the black base of the plug laying snug against pale skin. Negan closed his eyes for a moment, stroking faster, then went to his dresser to get a condom out, ripped the package open with his teeth and rolled it over his cock in one swift motion, before he moved onto Paul's bare, relaxed body, pleased when even in his sleep, his sub responded and spread his legs for him.

He sniffed along his chest, his neck, and took his head in both hands, cradling it to his needs as he brushed his mouth over Paul's lips, teasing them open. He groaned when they parted and the warm body underneath him came alive. "Yeah open your mouth for me, let me taste." He kissed deep and hungrily, seeking Daryl's flavor on Paul's tongue.

Jesus moaned, his entire body instantly on fire. He wrapped his legs around Negan's waist, his arms around his neck, trying to pull him closer.

"Did you eat his ass? Tell me." Negan pressed their hips together, his fingers tangling in long hair, his mouth exploring. "Did he leak on my bed like a good boy."

Paul shook his head, his eyes dazed. "No, Sir. I licked it off." He spoke against warm lips, trailing his fingernails up and down Negan's spine, between his shoulder blades, onto his neck, "We didn't want to make a mess on your sheets." then opened his mouth wider in hope for more tongue.

Negan panted, grinding his dick against Paul's bare ass cheeks, then reached down, finding a very slick hole. "Why are you so wet, boy." The  delight in his voice was unmistakably. "Did he play with your ass." He worked two fingers in, not taking his eyes off Paul's ecstatic face. "Hm? Did puppy finger you?"

Paul nodded, his blood boiling. "Yes, Sir." He rocked his hips, fucking himself on a strong hand. "He played with my hole."

"Yeah?" Negan pulled his fingers back, and instead rubbed the head of his cock teasingly against his sub's entrance. "All by himself, or did you help."

"I helped, Sir." Paul's eyes fluttered shut, feeling Negan push against his entry with more and more pressure, until he finally breached his muscle, making him arch and groan loudly. "Oh God..."

"Open your eyes, boy." Negan moved slowly, holding Paul's head with both hands, staring down at him, lust shimmering in his eyes. "Did you miss my dick?"

Jesus nodded, whimpering. "Yes, Sir."

"Yeah I know you did. You wanted to sit on my lap pretty often lately, isn't that right, bugger."

"Yes, Sir." Paul raked his fingertips through the short hair at the back of Negan's head. "Had to feel you." His other hand pressing the small of Negan's back, as his hips bucked up, wanting to feel him deeper. He heard a rough moan and gazed up, seeing  Negan hovering over him, big, dark and powerful, his hair damp and ruffled, slight perspiration dotting his forehead, as he started to thrust deep and hard.

A crooked smile tried to curve Paul's parted lips when a rough hand took possession of his leg, pulled and re-positioned it for a deeper, better angle, when he was used and taken exactly the way he needed it. A large palm pressed down on his mouth and nose at some point, when the whimpering gasps and groans got too loud, and he licked and bit at the salty skin, loving the rush of limited oxygen.

Both of them were losing control rapidly, their movements increasing in speed and roughness, inflicting light pain in the best way possible and all the right places.

Paul got the harsh command to cum, and he did with earth shattering force, his body jolting and contracting while a heavy weight melted onto him and all of Negan wrapped around him like a vice. He was limp and spent, his entire body thrumming, as Negan rolled off and curled an arm around him, pulling him close with a kiss to his forehead.

Paul nuzzled his cheek against coarse chest hair, listening to a steady heartbeat and thought he might have fallen asleep for a few minutes. At least it felt like it, when he opened his eyes and saw Daryl in unchanged position next to Negan, his legs pulled up, his butt in the air, his chest flat on the mattress, his face half hidden underneath freshly washed, shiny hair. He reached out with a smile, tugging the crinkled latex glove that peeked out between Daryl's fingers. "I can't believe he's still asleep."

"Hhm." Negan inhaled deeply and opened his eyes, stretching his neck and shoulders. He patted Paul's butt. "Let him sleep five more minutes."

----

11 minutes before the doors of the Leather Factory were about to open for the year's biggest charity event, the host was still upstairs in his apartment, feeling as relaxed as he hadn't felt in days.  

"Boy. What's taking you so long." He leaned against the wall next to the coat rack, his arm around his sub's shoulders.

Daryl liked the t-shirt Negan had given to him for the party. It was white and tight with a red paw print in the front and black words, saying 'Puppy in Training'.  

Jesus beamed brighter than the Christmas tree as he jumped into the entrance room, presenting his fantastic elf-DJ-outfit, complete with green hat and pointy ears. "Cute?"  

Negan snorted. "Fucking pantyhose?"

"Yes?" Paul looked down as he bent in his knees, pulling the thin fabric clinging to his thighs. "It came with the costume."

Daryl snorted as well. "You look ridiculous."

"Nope." Jesus smirked, proudly adjusting his hat. "I look precious." He went up to Daryl, his bellshoes jingling. "And you look hot." He made a low growling noise as he bit the collar of Daryl's shirt, then went on his tip-toes, leaning sideways to give Negan a kiss. "Ready to roll, Sir."

Negan returned the affection, speaking against warm lips. "Let's go then." He took Daryl by the hand and held the door open for boy number two. It was time to kiss some rich asses for the good cause.    
   

Chapter Text

The last Threshold of the year was an annual fundraising gala, usually for the benefit of several HIV programs. But this year the good cause was aimed at a different project, one the CEO and owner of the Leather Factory felt very passionate about. So, on the second Saturday of December, the LGBT and Leather community came together to celebrate with Atlanta's High Society and hopefully raise a shit load of money for the Covenant House Georgia, a Sanctuary for homeless and abused kids.

Daryl wasn't sure if he liked the December party. There was a red carpet in front of the building and a media wall with the Leather Factory logo all over, and every arriving guest posed in front of it like an idiot, smiling with pearly white teeth for a horde of photographers. He was really glad that he lived already at the factory and wouldn't have to walk over the horrible carpet.

Inside the club, everything looked posh and shiny, instead of the usual dark, masculine setting. There were high cocktail tables scattered through the room and pretty boys in black Santa hats carried trays around, packed with champagne flutes and Canapés.

The dress code was stupid as well, because people were suddenly allowed to come in very fancy evening attire, with tuxedos, ties and shiny shoes, instead of fetish gear, and some of the men even brought women with them. Women with lipstick and long plastic fingernails, carrying tiny purses underneath their skinny arms.

Daryl wrinkled his nose when a lady in glittery silver dress and high heels traipsed past him, dragging a cloud of flower stench along. No, he didn't like the December party much. Especially because the tall angry man had to speak to everyone, shake hands, smile and had no time to feed him one of the small crackers with salmon from the silver tray.

He had time to snap his fingers, though.

"Boy. What's with the fucking stink eye again. You wanna behave." Negan raised his brows and leaned closer to his sub, not sure if he was hallucinating when he heard some truculent muttering amidst all the joyful chatter and Christmas music. "You wanna repeat that for me?"

Daryl pointed reproachfully after the high heels lady, when one of the pretty Santa boys offered her a glass of champagne. "'s girls at your party!" Obviously Abraham made a damn lousy job tonight, granting admission to just anyone.

"Mhm." Negan grabbed Daryl's wrist. "You mustn't point at people like that." He clicked his tongue once, expecting eye contact and full attention. "Look at me."

Daryl sniffed his nose and raised his head.

"That's Mrs Reed. She is the wife of the mayor. We have a different guest policy tonight because it is a charity event. If they bring fucking money or support the project, they may come in. Right? Now you wanna focus on me and show everyone what a fucking well trained boy I have." Negan snapped his fingers when the eye contact faltered. "Can you do that."

Daryl nodded and after a warning look gave a polite answer. "Yes, Sir."

Negan held the stern stare for a moment, then released Daryl's wrist. "One step behind me, eyes on me the whole time until I say otherwise."

Mingling for an hour through the vibrant crowd, saying hello to countless guests, wasn't Daryl's favorite activity. But focusing on Negan as he made eloquent small talk with all the wealthy, smart people, wasn't difficult at all. It was so interesting to see how he easily approached people, took the initiative and charmingly guided every conversation. How he introduced some people, and made others, who stood alone by the punch bowl, feel comfortable and welcome. He smiled and paid attention to whatever he was told, no matter how boring it seemed, he nodded and dished out hearty, confident handshakes. Daryl felt all warm and proud just by walking behind this tall, beautiful man.

"Hm, yeah, of course." Negan nodded with a slight smile, even though he was bored to death as he studied the fat politician in front of him, feigning interest in his empty talk about 'bettering the community'. It was obvious that the entire world would have been a better place if this guy would just be abducted by aliens, or accidentally fell into a fucking volcano, but he refrained from saying that. Instead he used the opportunity when finally someone else distracted the self-deluded man, "Good to meet you, Geoffrey." patted his arm and left towards the bar, snapping his fingers. He needed a drink if he wanted to survive another hour of socializing.

"Already a nightcap or just a refreshment?" Simon flung a white dish towel over his shoulder, grinning at his boss. Milking the cashcow was apparently hard work.

"Scotch. No ice." Grimacing, Negan drained his drink, then handed the glass back and motioned for another. He leaned against the counter, glancing at his sub. A strand of his hair stuck out and he smiled faintly, watching the DJ-elf in his booth. "Are you focusing on me?"

Daryl's head snapped around. "Hm." He was focusing.

"Mhm." Negan's mouth twitched into a smirk. "You did fucking good, right?" He fished a raisin out of his pocket, but instead of feeding it, dropped it into his refilled glass. "Showing everybody how well behaved you are." He reached out and pulled Daryl's head closer, kissing his temple. "Making me fucking proud."

Warmth and happiness exploded in Daryl's chest, making his eyes beam and belly tingle.

"Showing unusual restraint tonight I see." A large man with white beard and tux raised his glass in Negan's direction. "Only one boy?" He took a sip, giving Negan's submissive a slow once-over. "It's a good one, though. I guess just by walking in the door he upped the collective handsomeness of the men in this room by at least twenty percent."

Negan pursed his lips, seeing no point to argue with the intellectually challenged. "Where's Ryder."

The man shrugged, seeming a bit sensitive all of sudden. "Oh, you know. We parted ways."

Negan nodded, sipping his drink. "Imagine that."

The man's expression dulled. He gestured with his glass at Daryl. "So, where did you find him?"

"In front of the door." Negan gestured with his own glass. Towards the exit. "It's over there. You might want to check it out."

Simon laughed behind the counter, as he poured himself a nice Tequila. He was a fan of subtle ass-whipping.

The man snorted, made a comment about the large amount of money the Leather Factory just lost, and vanished into the crowd.

Daryl looked after him, then gave Negan a guilty side glance. "You can have mine." He held his arm out, displaying his leather wrist wallet. There was a lot of money inside.

"Is that so." Negan bit back a smile, pushed off the bar counter and stepped close to Daryl, chest to chest. "But puppymoney is for Daryl only, right. You worked fucking hard for it."

Daryl sniffed his nose, pulling one shoulder up. Negan smelled really good. "'don' need it."

Negan leaned in, speaking right next to a pale ear. "Sure you do. We go Christmas shopping soon. You wanna buy a nice gift for your brother, right? And a treat for Tiger. And more fucking tights for Paul."

Daryl listened to the wonderful deep voice rumbling into his ear, "Hja." chuckling at the image of Paul opening a big present with red and white striped tights.

"Mhm." Negan went another inch closer, putting a hand onto a firm butt, stroking slowly up and down, then pressed against the hidden plug. "You also wanna tell me what happens once the fucking party is over."

A small wave of hot pleasure rolled through Daryl's lower abdomen, making his skin flush. "Fuckin'." Hearing his own voice saying the naughty word made him hide his face against Negan's expensive shirt.

"Oh Yes? What kind of fucking." Negan massaged his sub's ass, exerting more pressure to the deeply embedded plug. "Nice and slow?"

"Yes." Daryl nodded, spreading his thighs a bit. He really wanted to go upstairs to the big bed right now.

"Mhm." Negan rolled his hips teasingly against Daryl's middle. "I'll make fucking love to you all night, right? Looking at your pretty puppy face." He felt hot breath soaking the fabric of his shirt, where Daryl hid his face. "You want that, sweetheart? Tell me."

Daryl nodded, very fast, five times, before a spoken answer left his mouth. "Yes, Sir."

"Yes, you do, right." Negan kissed soft hair, then pulled back a little. "Nice answer." He waited patiently for shy eye contact, then fished a soggy raisin out of his drink and shoved it between pale pink lips. "I love when you're so fucking good for me."

Daryl's eyes lit up with pride and happiness as the taste of Scotch and raisins spread in his mouth. He liked being good as well.

----

At 10 PM, when Negan had to speak to more boring, rich people, Daryl was supposed to work at the toy table. Because everyone who wanted to attend the last Threshold of the year, had to bring an unwrapped toy for the less fortunate kids at the Covenant House, and in return received a voucher for a free cocktail.

At first Daryl had been grumpy that he had to do such a silly job where he was supposed to say 'Thank you for the toy' at minute intervals to silly strangers. But then acquired quite a liking for his new task, when the pile on the table grew bigger and bigger with the most awesome things he had ever seen. Big packages of Lego, a Playmobil Marshmallow man, awesome Transformers, a Godzilla Action figure, a talking Batman, a pirate ship with laser cannons, a 16-inch Stormtrooper, all four Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in one box, and a badass dragon with huge wings.

At half past ten he was already craning his neck, trying to spot the next guest in the crowd who would come his way with another toy. He didn't have to wait long. A lady with red dress and long blonde hair approached him, smiling, and handed a Power Rangers Megazord playset over, offering a cute story about her niece. Daryl didn't really listen but studied the pictures on the box. It even had the Power Sword.

When the woman reached a hand out for a thank you and good bye, he handed her the cocktail voucher and mumbled the 'Thank you for the toy' he was supposed to say, but then turned around to find a free spot on the overflowing table. He moved a boring looking board game to the left, hid an ugly Barbie horse with pink saddle underneath a Hungry Hippos game and placed the terrific Megazord right in the middle, for everyone to see.

"What are you doing?" Jesus sneaked up from behind, flinging his arms around Daryl's neck to bite his shoulder. "I'm doing a break, we can stroll off and- Uh! Bumblebee!" He jumped off Daryl's back and grabbed a box with a yellow Transformer. "I always wanted him when I was little!" He hugged the figure close to his chest, rocking it lovingly like a newborn kitten.

"Hm." Daryl nodded, understanding Paul's excitement. It even made awesome noises. He had tested it through a small hole in the packaging, because it said 'Try Me'.    

"All personnel of Leather Factory Incorporated as well as individuals in Negan's proprietorship are required to adjourn to the entertainment area." Eugene's sturdy form was festively wrapped into a colorful Christmas jumper with the words FRUIT CAKE in the front, hand knitted by Grandmother Porter.   

Daryl flicked his head, not sure what the man was talking about.

Luckily, Jesus spoke not only fluent Fanboy and Klingon, but also Nerdish and Weirdish. "Daddy wants us on stage."

----

At 11:00, a stunning, tall man entered the stage to speak to his 1240 guests. He spread some awareness for the projects the Leather Factory supported, thanked everyone for their attendance, engagement and wide open wallets, and in the end also thanked his entire team for another successful year and their unwavering commitment.

Daryl stood between Jesus and the new intern Mister Rhee, feeling shy but incredibly proud because he was a real true member of a big company and all the rich people saw him up on stage. He wished Merle could have seen him, too. And Mama.

At 11:42, Negan was surrounded by photographers while giving an interview to the biggest LGBT magazine in the US, with charm and confidence, making not only the lady with the microphone swoon, but also the young man kneeling next to him.

At 0:28, a hot DJ in elf costume got almost the entire club to dance to a Christmas version of the Gangnam style, even Mrs Reed, the wife of Atlanta's current mayor.

At 0:45, Daryl stood at the safe sidelines for a five minutes puppy-break, together with his rightful owner, who fed him a salmon cracker and made him drink from a big, tasty cranberry cocktail.

He took another sip, licked his lips and flicked a strand of hair from his face, looking at a newly set up scenery on the left side of the club. There was artificial snow, a reindeer, and a small Christmas tree. And in the middle of it all stood a very big, wooden armchair. He sniffed his nose, glancing up at Negan. "'s it your throne?" It looked like a chair for a king. He liked it.

"Is it my throne?" Negan was actually flattered by the thought and seriousness in Daryl's tone, and decided that he would reward the new level of worship later in bed with puppy's very first multiple orgasm. "Do you wanna sit by my feet like a good boy and watch me rule the fucking world?" He watched blue eyes spark with excitement and was photographed kissing cranberry-red lips. The picture was on Instagram just one minute later. He couldn't have cared less.

At 1:00, every gay man in the room hollered in utter excitement and deep appreciation, when an impressively well built Santa Claus with red hair and conspicuous mustache entered the club, carrying a bullwhip to match his black leather outfit. He sat down in the photo booth, in a big, wooden armchair.

The first to sit on his lap was Jesus, requesting a Hippopotamus for Christmas. "And if that's not possible, a drum set please." He put an arm around Abe's broad shoulders and smiled brightly for the camera.

Daryl didn't want any silly picture. But Negan leaned in close and whispered right next to his ear, that he would really like to have a sweet Christmas-puppy photo to frame it and put it on his fucking dresser. So Daryl went to sit with half a butt cheek on Abraham's thigh, not daring to look up.

Mister Ford wrapped a firm arm around Daryl's waist, chuckling amused, as he pulled the shy man properly onto his lap, pleasantly surprised that he smelled like a 13.5 oz. tub of NIVEA creme.

Daryl didn't say anything, but he smiled a little for the camera because Negan stood next to the photographer, mouthing the word 'pantyhose'.

At 1:52, the club's very own DJ asked some friendly helpers to join the gift wrapping party in the back of the club. 34 people followed the invitation and gathered around in a heap of bows, tape and colorful paper to wrap all the donated toys for the children of the Covenant House Georgia. It took almost 70 minutes to finish the task, and then another hour to unpack most of it again because somebody had accidentally wrapped up a purple deep drill-vibrator.

Negan rubbed his forehead with a tired sigh when boy number two blushed in a guilty shade of red, and decided that it was time for him to leave the club and call it a night. "Where's Daryl."

Rick picked at a drop of dried glue on his good white button down shirt, nodding towards one of the leather lounge chairs. "Over there."

Daryl didn't sit in it, but behind, with a box in his hand, reading in low voice the description of the yet unwrapped toy. The 'Mighty T-Rex Model Kit - for the future paleontologist'. He was completely absorbed in his task, one finger on the text.

"Boy." Negan snapped his fingers. "Let's go upstairs. Enough party for you today."

"Hm." Daryl got up obediently, putting the box on the chair. Time to go home was his favorite part of every party.

----

In the very early morning of a snowy Sunday in December, Daryl spread his legs wider and threw his head back with a low moan, arching his back against the warm hardwood floor, in the dim light of a tall Christmas tree. He felt hot and weak, dizzy from the escalating bliss.

"Yeah, good boy." Negan stared down at his sub's contorted face, licking salty sweat off parted lips, as he twisted his hand a last time, deep inside silky, pulsing flesh. "Go on... cum for me."

Daryl's eyes flew open, despair and astonishment written all over his features, he whimpered before a strangled cry left his throat and his body shook helplessly when another orgasm washed through him like a tidal wave.

Negan brushed his mouth over feverish cheeks, smoothing damp hair back with gentle fingers. "Fucking beautiful."

Chapter Text

Negan hated everything about the mall. He hated the crowds, the queues, the overly attentive shopping assistants, the scented air, and especially the perky holiday music piping in every store. He even hated the free food samples. They were flu spreading agents on a toothpick.

"Don't fucking touch that!" He slapped a dry piece of fruitcake out of Paul's fingers, grabbed his coat sleeve and dragged him through the people to where Daryl was obediently waiting in front of an American Eagle shopwindow. "I told you to wait here!"

"It's been two hours since breakfast." It was the only defense Jesus could come up with, wiping some crumbs into his skinny jeans. "She said it's a fabulously festive cake for the holidays and beyond."

"She also wiped her ass and changed her fucking tampon before she sneezed on that fucking thing!" Negan wasn't afraid to speak the truth in public and made some of the kids in Miss Honeycut's Kindergardenclass giggle, as she walked by and had just two hands available to cover innocent ears.

Luckily the young man with the runny nose showed more child friendly behavior. "Can I a tissue."

Negan got a pack of paper tissues out of his jacket pocket and handed it to his sub. "And if I tell you to fucking wait here, you damn well fucking do that and await my fucking return like a cocker spaniel at the fucking front door!"

Jesus lowered his head submissively. "Yes, Sir. I'm sorry."

"Thank you." Daryl held the used tissue up along with the rest of the package, and his chin was pinched in return for such impeccable manners.

"Mhm." Negan got his wallet out. "Now go do your Christmas shopping, so we can get the fuck out of here." He gave each of his boys a hundred dollar bill. "No candy, no crap, nothing made in fucking Bangladesh." He held one finger up, expecting full attention. "You stay together, you don't break anything, and you are back here in two hours." Both men nodded at him, mumbling an obedient 'Yes, Sir'. "Good." He tapped his cheek with one finger. "Kiss."

"The new Vans are out." Jesus got on his tip-toes, smooching one of his Dads soundly. "I have a 8,5."

Daryl blinked through his long bangs and wiped them to the side before he placed a shy kiss on perfectly trimmed facial hair. Negan smelled really good. "Where are you goin'."

"Where am I going?" Negan looked around in the overcrowded, Christmasfied temple of consumption, guessing that the gates to hell must've looked similar. But he turned back to Daryl with a smile and leaned in to nuzzle a pale ear. "To the pet store, buying some kibble for my puppyboy, right? Daddy's almost out of raisins." He winked at his sub, pulled boy number two's earlobe in a warning and walked off, vanishing in the crowds of jolly Christmas shoppers.

Daryl looked after him and then a bit helpless at the 100 Dollar note in his hand. He had never bought Christmas presents before, and had no idea where he should go to find any.

Jesus rubbed his hands, thirsting for action. "Let's go to GameStop, play Overwatch." They had plenty of time after all.

----

 After 61 minutes in Atlanta's biggest shopping mall, Paul Rovia had not only three bags full of Christmas surprises, but also a fantastic Chipotle burrito for 3 dollar and 40 cent.

While the only item in Daryl's bag was a 0.99 Cent package of dog treats for Tiger, because he really wanted to go to the pet store, in hopes to see Negan.

It was hopeless. He had been at Banana Republic, GAP, Bath and Body Works, Abercrombie & Fitch and Pottery Barn, but he hadn't found anything that wasn't crap. And the only two things that were maybe remotely okay, had no label on the package and he had been too shy to ask anyone if they were made in Bangladesh. The problem was that Negan and Jesus had already everything cool in the world. And Merle would certainly not like a Mrs. Claus cocoa mug, a waffle weave resort bathing robe, or a decorative candle holder.

"It's the thought that counts." Paul pulled a piece of grilled chicken out of his burrito and fed it to Daryl. "You know, what do you want them to feel like when they open the gift? And what do you want to express with it. Look..." He fished a bottle of spot remover and a pack of disposable lobster bibs out of his bag. "It has 'I love you' written all over!"

Daryl sniffed his nose, not sure if he understood what Jesus meant, but he nodded anyway. He wanted everyone to feel happy when they opened the gifts. And he wanted them to know that he really, really liked them.

"Hey look! Perfect!" Paul pointed at a festively decorated shopwindow that promised in red letters that they provided very customer friendly gift categories, already divided in 'Mummy', 'Daddy', 'Child' and 'Buddy'. "Go, check it out! I'll wait here." He gestured with his soggy food, a thick drop of sauce falling onto the shiny marble floor. "Don't want to ruin their carpet."

"Okay." Daryl didn't look very happy as he entered the fancy store, but it was very crowded and the assistants seemed to be busy already with other customers, so he rushed to the left side of the sales room, where the 'Daddy' category was, marked with a big sign, saying  'GIFTS FOR DAD'.

He looked around, seeing shaving brushes, a 'King of the kitchen' apron, fountain pens, lambswool scarves, cufflinks, wash bags and a wooden beard and mustache comb. He wasn't sure about any of these things and then froze and stopped in front of a belt rack, pictures of his father instantly popping into his head. He reached out and ran his hand along the hanging belts, making them jingle at the buckles. He watched them move back and forth, his eyes fixed on a black one with square buckle. He touched the leather. It was like rough suede on one side, and very smooth on the other. He imagined it looped into grey pants. He imagined it laying on a heavy dresser. He imagined it held by big, strong, very safe hands. He sniffed his nose and took it off the rack. It was heavy and the imprint didn't say anything about Bangladesh, but 100% leather. He ran it through his hand, and folded it in half, then sniffed it and held it against his cheek, feeling it against his skin. It expressed exactly what he wanted to tell Negan.

32 minutes later, he left the fancy store with three gifts in one bag. One from the Dad's category, a 2018 calendar with pretty blonde women for Merle from the buddy's aisle, and a yellow car that could magically transform into a robot from the kids-section. He felt pretty good and had still 1 dollar and 12 cent left.

He gave them to Negan after exact 2 hours, in front of the shop window of American Eagle Outfitters and got a raisin in return.  

----

It was already dark at 6 in the early evening, when a big, black Tahoe parked at 360 Peachtree street, in front of a beautiful church made of old stone and stained glass. Daryl got out of the car and looked up the mighty building. It almost looked like a real knight's castle.

"Ksst." Negan put the car keys into his pocket and took Daryl's hand, guiding him towards the entrance, the slight crunch of his polished shoes on the snow covered sidewalk echoing through the empty street. He looked different, having his leather jacket exchanged for a black Burberry dufflecoat. Daryl liked it. It made him look even taller and more powerful, matching his confident walk and the firm handshake he exchanged with some guy at the church doors.

It smelled weird in the church and it was cold. Daryl gazed up at the high vault, feeling like they were standing in a very big cave. The arched windows were almost as high as the ones in the factory, but with colorful pictures of half naked people, animals and wings.

"Here." Negan gestured to a seat on the simple oak pews on the right. "Sit."

Daryl hesitated. "Where's Jesus." Negan had told him that Jesus would wait at the church but now he wasn't there.

Negan didn't repeat himself, but snapped his fingers and pointed one down. "He'll come."

The hard bench was uncomfortable and Daryl didn't like that it was so long. He didn't want other people to sit with them, but he sat down anyway because Negan did the same, very close to him, smelling like fresh air and musky cologne.

A festively decorated pulpit stood center front and on either side a piano and organs. Poinsettias were everywhere and a Christmas tree on the left, but it didn't look pretty, because it had only lights, and no twinkling ornaments or any tinsel.

Daryl turned around, curiously watching as others entered the church and the pews started to fill. There were gestures of greetings and hushed whispers as if something secretive was about to happen. He sniffed his nose, pulling his fingers, hoping Jesus would come soon.

"Boy." Negan leaned closer for a brief moment. "You wanna be good for me and stop fidgeting."  

Daryl nodded, shoving his fingers underneath his thighs because it was really cold and he was nervous. Then he turned around again as he heard a familiar voice. Rick and Shane walked up the aisle bickering about parking and tickets, but Paul was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey." Rick tickled the back of Negan's neck as he walked by and sat down in the pew in front of them, asking Shane to discuss it later because now was not the time.

Daryl looked back over his shoulder again but Paul didn't come. Instead a very loud bell started to ring, first just one, then several, their rich peal echoing through the huge building like a dramatic alarm of some sort, almost as loud as the horn of the cruise ship. He had never heard bells from inside a church and glanced up in search for them, but there were just silly stucco decorations.

The chimes went on for a long time, more and more people filled the wooden benches, and then suddenly everything fell oddly still and quiet, apart from someone coughing briefly in the back, and a man with thick white hair, wearing oval shaped glasses that sat on the tip of his nose, stepped behind the pulpit. He said something in rather low voice and a rustling and hushed voices went through the room, when the entire congregation moved and got up to pray.

Daryl looked around, seeing everyone but him folding their hands and bowing their heads. He looked up at Negan who stood up as well, but didn't fold his hands and instead gave Daryl a small smirk, stroking a strand of hair behind his ear. Daryl exhaled nervously, leaning his forehead against a thick dufflecoat, wishing they could leave now.

The man with the glasses said a loud 'Amen' and everyone followed his gesture to sit down again. Negan too, but with a brief time lag, not willing to follow the rules or commands of anybody.

He leaned back into the hard wooden backrest, too short for his large frame, and put a hand on his sub's thigh, squeezing twice, before he placed a kiss on tousled hair.

Daryl felt better instantly and concentrated on familiar smell and the fine dark hair on the back of a large hand, while a booming voice spoke about a book of John and a place called Samaria. He had no idea what all that meant and why everybody listened as attentively as if Negan was speaking on stage at a convention.

After a small eternity the white haired man left and again a rustling went through the pews. Daryl sniffed his nose and held on to Negan's sleeve as he glanced back over his shoulder and saw a caravan of young men in weird, long, red and white smocks walking up the main aisle to the front of the church. The organ began to play as they fluently lined up in two rows, facing the congregation.

Daryl sat up straight, craning his neck to see what was happening and then slid to the edge of his uncomfortable seat when all the men began to sing. A Christmas song. 'Oh holy night', in perfect unison. Their soft, deep voices echoed among the masonry and up to the rafters. Daryl didn't know what to think. He didn't dare to blink, his lips slightly parted as goosebumps spread over his arms and upper back. And then one man stepped forward, away from the choir, bravely singing his solo part. His blue eyes shining in the candlelight, his voice smooth and clear and so moving and powerful, that Daryl's throat got tight. He tapped Negan's arm, then pulled his sleeve, wanting him to see it as well. "Look." It was Jesus, singing in front of everyone.

Negan nodded with a smile, putting a finger to his lips, and spent the next three minutes watching the completely stunned expression on his sub's face, too captivated and overwhelmed to hide the purity of his emotions.

It was a truly beautiful sight. Definitely worth the backache and annoyance of sitting through an one hour Christmas service.  

----

Daryl blinked up into the nightly sky, letting the snowflakes fall on his face, as he waited a respectful step behind Negan, until Jesus was finished changing his clothes and would come back out. It took almost 15 minutes, and Shane gave the men's choir soloist a sound high-five for the awesome performance.

"Did you like it?" Paul tucked his hair behind his ears, smiling up at Negan in an almost shy manner.

Negan shrugged. "The part about falling on your knees wasn't bad." He smirked when a rather fine-boned hand boxed him in the chest, and bent down for a kiss.

Paul wrapped his arms around Negan's neck. "Thank you for coming, Sir." The answer he received was whispered into his ear and made him tighten the embrace for almost a minute.

On the way back to the car, Daryl wanted to say that Jesus was a really good singer and that he had liked the Christmas song very much. But he was too shy to say any of it and just laced their fingers together, rubbing one of Paul's fingernails with the tip of his thumb.

Chapter Text

On December the 1st, 1992, elementary school teacher Margaret Greene wrote something very special on the chalkboard:

**Santa Claus - Main Post Office FI-96930 Arctic Circle FINLAND**

She gave every child in her class a white piece of paper, a red envelope and glitter-stickers, asking them to write a letter to Santa Claus, so he would visit them for Christmas and bring them a present.

"But you have to be really good, or he won't come." Clementine Arbuckle told her classmate, as she drew a big Barbie horse on her paper. "You have to clean your room and brush your teeth every night." Her mother had told her all about it, last night after the good night kiss.

Daryl sniffed his nose, listening attentively. Maybe that was the reason why there was no Christmas in his living room last year. He hadn't brushed his teeth every night and his room was pretty messy.

"And you have to put cookies out for him and a glass of milk." Clementine was sure, making everything on her letter really pink. "And carrots for the reindeer."

A twinkle flickered through blue eyes as Daryl imagined reindeer munching carrots in front of his window. He smiled, taking the green crayon to draw a car. It turned out really well and he wrote a crooked FOR MERL behind, because his brother really wanted a car very much. He also drew a bunch of yellow bullets for his Dad, so he could go hunting and they would all eat a very big roast. And then he had to wait four minutes until Clementine had finished the eyes on her Barbie horse, because he needed the black crayon to draw a hammer and chisel. He stuck his tongue out, concentrating, and then chuckled when he had an even better idea and drew an awesome dinosaur next to his Christmas wish, so Santa Claus would know for sure what he needed the tools for.

Once he had secretly used the hammer from the toolbox to dig out dinosaur bones behind the house, but his father had been furious when he had found out. Now Papa would certainly smile and be happy once Santa Claus would come to bring a very own hammer and chisel for Daryl. He made the whole letter even prettier with a lot of glittery stickers, signed it with his full name because Miss Greene had shown him how to write it, and then in the last moment before he put it into the envelope, he drew a toothbrush on the backside of the paper. He really wanted to be very good.   

And he really was, for the next three weeks. He washed his hands, he brushed his teeth, he emptied the ashtrays, he cleaned Papa's shoes, he cleaned Merle's gun, twice, he swept the floor, and on a Thursday evening, put an extra pretty pine cone on Papa's pillow. He had found it on the way home from school.

He had even a cookie for Santa Claus, because Miss Greene had brought them for her class on the last day of school before winter break. It was brown, with colorful sprinkles and it smelled fantastic. Daryl put it onto an extra clean plate on the table, next to a glass of beer because there was no milk in the fridge. They also had no carrots for the reindeer, but he had collected 17 acorns out in the woods, all on his own until it was too dark to see anything.

At night he was so nervous and excited that he couldn't fall asleep for a long time, thinking of the reindeer munching all the acorns and Santa Claus sitting in the kitchen to drink beer and eat the terrific cookie. He also thought of his new tools and the big dinosaur bones he would be able to dig out with them. Merle could maybe transport them to school in his new car, and all the children would come and see the awesome things he found.

It was still dark outside when Daryl woke up on December the 25th and his belly flipped instantly with happiness. He crawled out of bed, took his favorite pebble stone, and ran into the kitchen, almost bursting with joy because the glass was empty and the only thing left from Miss Greene's cookie was a red sprinkle and a small crumb. The acorns were still there, but maybe the reindeer hadn't been hungry.

He grabbed the empty plate, wanting to show it to his brother, and jumped into the living room like a big bunny, because he couldn't wait to see the Christmas tree and presents with bows on top.

He smiled from one ear to the other, looking around the half dark room. But there was no tree. And he couldn't find any presents, not even behind Papa's armchair or underneath the coffee table. He climbed onto the couch to look out of the window, but he couldn't see a green car for Merle. The smile died off his face. He sniffed his nose, scratching his ear. Then ran his tongue along his teeth. He had brushed them 32 times since he had written the letter.

Santa Claus didn't come to Daryl Dixon on December the 25th. Not one reindeer, no sleigh with presents and twinkling Christmas tree. Nobody came. Daryl was alone the whole day, sitting behind the couch, hating himself for being so bad and ugly. And in the early evening when finally the front door opened, he knew it wasn't a man with red coat and long, white beard. He knew it was Papa. He could smell the Vodka and hear the staggering footsteps as he tried to walk through the house, knocking a chair over on the way.

Daryl hated himself. His silly teeth. The clean ashtrays. The magical reindeer and all the acorns. He hated Christmas. And he didn't want to cry because he was no pansy, but then it happened anyway. Small, hot tears spilled down his cheeks, when Papa's large hand grabbed him by the upper arm to drag him out of his hiding place.

He didn't know why Merle wasn't home for Christmas. But he spent the night in his bed, crying into a flat, stained pillow. His back and face hurting so much he could hardly stand it. His stomach rumbled because there hadn't been a roast, or anything else to eat. He sobbed quietly, his breath hitching as he pressed his favorite pebble stone against his puffy lips, wishing he could be on Mama's cloud.

----

On December the 24th 2017, Daryl was in a strange mood. In the morning he didn't want to get up to eat very special bacon and eggs breakfast. In the afternoon he didn't want to see the stockings Olivia had made in her needlework class, with their names, Negan, Daryl, Paul and Tiger. He wanted to nap for more than two hours, but on the grey couch in Negan's office, not in bed. In the late afternoon, when it got already dark outside and everything smelled like delicious food, Christmas tree and candles, he wanted to cuddle with Jesus on the floor in the living room. But without talking. He just wanted to watch TV and play with Paul's earlobe.

"Slaay!" Jesus chuckled when clever Kevin on top of the three-story roof dropped some serious brick stones down on the Sticky Bandits, hitting poor Marv directly in the head. "Man, he would be so rat bait if this was real."

"Hey." Negan snapped his fingers as he walked by. "I said you wanna get ready and help Olivia in the kitchen."

Paul craned his head back to see one of his Dads better. "I wanted to but she said she doesn't need help, Sir."

Negan arched his brows, snapping his fingers again. "Chop, chop. We fucking eat in an hour."

"Alrightyroo." Paul sighed and untangled himself from Daryl, smoothing his ruffled hair down a bit as he went to the kitchen. "Don't you worry Olivia, baby Jesus to the rescue!"

Daryl scrambled to his feet, keeping his eyes lowered when he switched the TV off. He wanted to say that he really hated big dinners with guests and good table manners. He wanted to say that he missed Merle. He wanted to say that he didn't feel like Christmas and rather wanted to sleep. But then he didn't say any of it and just hid his face against Negan's chest, enjoying when a bearded chin rested on the top of his head.

Negan looped a loose arm around Daryl's waist. "Are you a snugglepuppy today?" He didn't get an answer, just three fingers clawing into the fabric of his shirt. "You wanna go take a walk with Tiger for me until dinner is ready?" This time he got a nod and lips brushing the outline of his hidden collarbone. "Mhm. You also want a strike on fucking Christmas eve or would you like to answer like a good boy."

"'wan' to go for a walk."

"Yes, you do." Negan planted a kiss on tousled hair, "Jacket, scarf and fucking gloves. It's cold out there." then patted Daryl's butt. "Don't be late."

----

A big Christmas eve dinner for staff and friends had tradition in Negan's company, and he looked forward to it every year. Not because of the gigantic turkey, fucking glazed carrots or baked sweet potatoes drizzled with maple syrup, but because it was officially the last christmassy obligation he had. After that he could finally throw all the poinsettias, reindeer figurines and mistletoes into one of the pretty dumpsters in front of his door, pack his bag and leave Atlanta for his well deserved annual New Year's vacation. The one and only completely work-free week of the year. So, even though he hated Christmas and all the pretend 'once-a-year' love and cheer that came with it, he was usually in a very jovial mood in the evening of December the 24th.   

Just not this year. Because as he sat there at the head of the table and watched his guests chatting and laughing, waiting for the starting signal that would give them permission to devour in thirty minutes, what Olivia had cooked since 6 in the morning, he grew more and more impatient with the empty chair to his right.

"I could go and look for him?" Jesus rubbed Negan's wrist with one finger. "Maybe he met a buddy from the Eagle or something."

"No." Negan glanced at the clock. Daryl was gone for exactly 90 minutes now. "Start. I'm right back." He got up, "Olivia, be a lamb and serve the salad." and left the 11-foot banquet table in search for his sub and dog.

He found Tiger's leash at the red front door, next to a pair of gloves and a used paper tissue. He picked it all up and went once around the building, seeing light coming from the open garage door. A few spare parts and tools lay scattered around the bike Daryl was currently working on... and something moved in the passenger seat of a big, old military truck. Negan sighed, rubbing his temple, as he saw a young man with sad face behind the steering wheel, right next to a large German Shepherd.

"Take the interstate. Won't be much faster, but you'll avoid heavy traffic."

Daryl flinched startled when the driver's door suddenly opened and a tall man in leather jacket stared at him. He hunched his shoulders moving half an inch to the right. "'wasn't late." He really wasn't. He had just seen all the cars in the parking lot, heard the happy voices upstairs and then wanted to wait in the garage until Christmas was over.

"Move."

"Hm?" Daryl glanced up.

"Hm? Move over!" Negan raised his voice and grabbed the handle next to the door, pulling himself up. He didn't really wait until his sub had moved, and just made himself comfortable behind the steering wheel, leaning over to search for the key behind the sun visor. He sighed, positioned his feet on the accelerator and clutch, put the key in and started the engine.

Daryl pulled his left shoulder up, watching a bit worriedly as a large hand grabbed the gear shift. "Where are you goin'?"  

"Where the fuck am I going? Well, we need butter." Negan looked back over his shoulder, reversing the huge vehicle out of the garage. "Olivia bought the cheap shit. You know I only eat fucking grass-fed."

"Hm." Daryl sniffed his nose, swaying on the seat as Negan pulled out of the driveway and really drove onto the street, with his military truck, in the dark, on Christmas eve. He scratched his ear, then touched Tiger's paw, when the dog seemed to be very excited.

Once he was on the street, Negan leaned back into the seat. There wasn't much traffic. "So. Why are you a rude shit and hide in here instead of coming upstairs for fucking dinner as I told you."

Daryl looked out through the windshield, then down at his fingers, shrugging.

"Boy." Negan lowered his voice into a warning tone.

Daryl exhaled, pulling his thumb. "'dunno." His answer sounded gruff and not very friendly.

"Oh yeah?" Negan glanced into the side mirror. "I do. You don't like big dinners and a house full of fucking people." He shifted, leaning back again. "You also miss your brother and you never did all this Christmas shit, so you feel fucking uncomfortable." He didn't ask if he was right, because he knew. "I'm fine with that." He gave Daryl a side glance, seeing him staring at his hands. "But it fucking pisses me off that you run around and sulk all day, and then hide in the fucking garage, instead of doing your job. You're supposed to fucking focus on me. You're supposed to report when you're unwell or upset. It doesn't fucking matter how many people I invite when the only one you have to interact with is me." He slowed down a bit, shifting again. "Right?"

Daryl nodded, adding a very quiet 'Right'.

"Your brother is fine." Negan saw a Whole Foods to his right. Exactly what he was looking for. "He's having Christmas dinner with all the others, then he plays some fucking Ping Pong with Tyreese and later tonight he'll rub one out, looking at the fine ladies in the calendar you gave him."

A tiny smile crooked Daryl's lips. It sounded pretty much like an evening his brother would enjoy. "Hja."

"And in January we'll visit him again and you tell him all about the awesome turkey I fed you because my puppy loves meat and fucking gravy even more than my dick." Negan ignored the looks of some last minute Christmas shoppers as he drove his truck right onto the store's parking lot, finding a free spot very close to the entry. He turned the engine off, "Right?" arching his brows at Daryl.

Daryl smiled, shaking his head. "No."

"No?" Negan patted his pockets down, relieved when he actually found some money. "You wanna sit underneath the table, sucking my cock while I eat turkey?"

Daryl nodded, the smile climbing all the way up to make his eyes shine. "Yes."

Negan leaned in for an almost kiss, squinting one eye, "I know." before he opened the door and climbed out to buy some imported, grass-fed, unsalted butter from Ireland. "Be good and watch the other puppy. I'm right back."

----

Daryl still didn't like Christmas dinners with many people, and he didn't sit underneath the table to serve his owner. He sat to Negan's right, focusing on him and the incredible meat on his plate.

He also chuckled when Jesus told a story about Orhan, the waiter from the big cruise ship.

He smiled at Simon who held a conversation with all the culinary delicacies on his plate, calling his perfectly cooked Bourbon-glazed pork belly chunks sweet succulent morsels, before promising them a lifelong very happy marriage.

He wrinkled his nose at janitor Joseph, sharing a kiss and cocktail cherry with a deeply blushing Olivia.

He didn't know why Abraham and Eugene were dressed in matching Christmas sweaters, but he really liked that Rick laughed hysterically about something Shane said and then kissed his shoulder.

Most of the other people at the table were strangers to him, but whenever someone glanced in his direction, he just looked at Negan and opened his mouth really wide for more food. He did it so often, that Negan sent him three times to the buffet to get more turkey and roast potatoes.   

Seven different guests gave a toast in Negan's honor, one of them was the new intern Glenn, who seemed already very tipsy after three glasses of wine and two cups of eggnog.

Daryl sniffed his nose and wished he would be brave enough to raise his glass as well and say something nice about Negan. He wanted to say that his hair was really pretty and that he smelled good. And also that he really more than liked him. But he wasn't brave, so he just nudged a large biker boot underneath the table and then felt his butterflies join the Christmas party when he was invited to sit on Negan's lap to eat dessert.

The moment Negan moved back with his chair and wrapped an arm around his sub's waist, everyone at the table hollered their approval and raised their glass at the boss and his newest and first officially collared boy.

It made Daryl blush and a little bit proud. And then very happy because Negan fed him a spoon full of ice cream with rum-soaked raisins and called him sweetheart for almost everyone to hear.

After dinner, Olivia handed bags with business courtesies out for the guests who called it a night or had to attend another party or family gathering.

Most of the others engaged in conversations and more drinking, or paired up in teams to play Pictionary. Daryl wanted to flee to the bathroom, thinking he really had to pee very badly, but then the tall angry man wanted to know where the other member of Team Negan was, and he was put on a chair to guess the first picture.

It turned out that he was very good at the game, even better than Jesus and Eugene. First he guessed 'Handcuffs' right but said his answer so quietly that he wasn't heard in time. Then he knew after just two seconds that Negan meant a bullwhip with his drawing and he said it loud enough, so it counted and Jesus covered his face and cursed because he hated to lose. The third time, Negan wagged his eyebrows at his team partner and just needed to draw the first two fingertips of a latex glove, before Daryl was able to guess 'fisting' right. Negan dropped the pen, "YES! Fucking smart boy!" threw his arms in the air and then gave his sub a proud high-five. Daryl smiled, because they were really an awesome team.

In the later evening, Negan sat on the big black leather couch, his arm around Rick, while he held a conversation about snow tires with Abe and Shane. Daryl didn't really listen, because he sat in front of the Christmas tree with Jesus, to help Tiger opening presents. He got a squeaking toy that looked like a squirrel and a really large bone from the butcher. But he liked the treats Daryl had bought the most and raised his paw three times because he wanted more.

A few minutes after midnight, Negan accompanied his last guests downstairs. He shook Shane's hand, told Abraham the fastest way to grandmother Porter's house, and kissed Rick good night. It made Mister Grimes blush and Jesus adjust his already very tight skinny jeans.

When the last car had left the parking lot, Negan snapped his fingers for Daryl, making him follow towards the leather store. "Read." He showed him a sign with a short, thin chain attached to it.

Daryl sniffed his nose and flicked some hair to the side, slowly reading the black words embossed in metal. "We are closed until January 6th, 2018." He smacked his lips, putting his finger on the last two words. "Be god."

A slight smile curled Negan's lips and crinkled the corners of his eyes. "It says 'be good'." He took the sign and hung it up on the inside of the store's entry door, then locked it securely for the next 14 days. "God wants his nipples sucked." He nuzzled a pale ear and snapped his fingers, leading the way back around the building, through the red door and up through an empty staircase.

Daryl was so happy he couldn't stop smiling. He really wished they had ten more of the awesome signs to hang them at every door of the factory.

----

At one in the morning, after brushing teeth and reporting, Daryl joined Negan and Paul on the big, black sofa and obediently kissed the scruff on a warm cheek, because the owner of the Leather Factory wanted to take a family photo for his loyal Instagram followers, of himself and his boys in cozy pajamas.

He titled it with, 'All I want for Christmas are these cute butts! Let's get all merry and shit - Negan xx'

Daryl looked at it. The tree was in the background and Jesus lasciviously snaked his tongue against Negan's earlobe. He liked it, and all the comments and tiny snowman and tree emojis popping up next to the picture, wishing Negan and his subs a naughty Christmas. He sniffed his nose and handed the phone back. "'s it over now?"

"Is fucking Christmas over?" Negan switched his phone off, flinging it on the coffee table. "The annoying part is over." He relaxed back into the cool leather of his couch with a loud sigh, patting Daryl's thigh. "Now comes the good Christmas where puppy serves me a drink and presents his pretty ass for my enjoyment like a good boy. Right?"  

"Right." Daryl got up to pour two fingers of whiskey and imagined all the angry sluts in front of the door, reading the terrific sign. He liked the good part of Christmas very much.

----

Falling asleep on December the 24th, 2017 wasn't hard at all for Daryl Dixon. He wasn't nervous or excited. He didn't think of acorn munching reindeer or Santa Claus, eating cookies. He felt warm and relaxed underneath a very thick blanket, on slightly cool sheets made of Egyptian cotton. He felt at peace with the whole world, his nose pressed into a broad bare chest, his tongue and lips wrapped around a spit-wet nipple, a safe hand in his hair, a slender body snuggled against his back.

It was still dark outside when he woke up again, in the very early morning of December the 25th, and his belly clenched with worry because Negan wasn't there. He crawled out of bed and hurried into the living room, looking around in the half dark.

There was the big, shiny tree with countless presents underneath, smelling like evergreens and resin.

There was a baseball bat on the coffee table, next to a plate of gluten-free cookies without any sprinkles, and a half empty glass of almond milk.

There was a tall man with slightly ruffled hair on the couch, looking at photos on his phone. He put it down and got up when he noticed someone behind him, his voice loud, clear and steady, positive as always.

"Did you wake up, puppy?"

"Hm." Daryl pulled one shoulder up. Negan looked really pretty, wearing only pajama pants. "Yes."

"Mhm." Negan snapped his fingers, pointing two down, watching as his sub fell to his knees instantly. "You wanna wish me a merry Christmas."

Daryl peered up, wiping a strand of hair from his eyes. "Merry Christmas." It didn't sound very friendly or confident.

But Negan seemed to like it anyway. He squatted down, shoving half a cookie between pale pink lips. "Good boy. You want to open your presents now?" The insecure expression in blue eyes and slight shake of a head let his voice soften in adoration. "No? You want to give me mine?"

"Okay." It was hidden in the swimming bag next to the coat rack, so Daryl looked in the direction of the entry room, but didn't dare to get up.

Negan was a big fan of good manners in the early morning. "Nice job, waiting for permission." He snapped his fingers and rose to his feet. "Go, bring it."

A stray butterfly flapped its wings somewhere deep down in Daryl's belly, as he went to get the small cardboard box. He had wrapped it in red paper and it looked a bit crinkly but still very festive, with a real bow and a handwritten note, saying 'PRESENT FOR NEGAN'. He carried it back into the living room and sniffed his nose as he handed it over. "'s for you."

"Is that so nice of you?" Negan took it, kissing his sub's cheek. "Thank you very much, boy." He sat down on the couch, loving how Daryl knelt down next to his knee, excitedly observing each of his movements. The wrapping paper almost fell off on its own because the tape wasn't in the right places, and the note was written in the crooked handwriting of a third grader. Negan considered for a moment to put it underneath his pillow.

He opened the brown paper box he found in the wrapping paper and stared at the coiled leather belt inside, feeling dumbstruck.

Daryl looked from the open box up at Negan's serious face. "'s a belt."

Negan inhaled and straightened his back. "It is a belt!" He took it out and gave it a closer look, trying to keep his voice as positive and praising as possible. "A fucking good one, look at that!" He ran it through his hand and folded it in half, smiling at Daryl, glad when he got a proud smile in return. "It's awesome." He cupped his sub's face, belt still in hand, letting it touch a happily glowing cheek as he leaned in for a kiss and softer words. "I fucking love it." He had never received anything more precious.

----

At half past eight on Christmas morning, Jesus stepped into the living room, squinting his sleepy eyes. His hair was a mess and his 'Up to snow good' Christmas pajamas a bit out of shape. He looked around, seeing one of his Dads on the couch with a cup of tea, and Daryl in front of the tree with glinting eyes in a heap of boxes, bows and wrapping paper, surrounded by a lot of gifts not fit for his age, but designed to make his inner child deliriously happy.

"Man..." He grumbled and drowsily grabbed his stocking off the hook. "You started with the prezzies again without me." He flopped down next to Negan, kissing his cheek despite being grumpy and tired, and fished some glow sticks, new earphones and sugar free candy out of his stocking, instantly devouring half a bag of skittles because he was hungry and needed energy. Then he stuck his hand deeper into the stocking and found something flat and square at the bottom. He looked at Negan's smug face with big, round eyes, holding a condom up. "You let me fuck you, Sir?" Maybe he was still asleep and somewhere in naughty dreamland where all fantasies became reality and Brussels sprouts tasted like toffee eclairs.

"Yeah, right." Negan snorted, sipping his tea. "It's fucking Christmas. Not the day the world stood still." He arched his brows at boy number two's confused face. "It's from Daryl."

Daryl glanced up from his very own T-Rex model kit with attached premier membership pass for the Museum of Natural History. He smiled shyly and didn't say anything, but he felt very sneaky and Christmassy.

Chapter Text

"No, not today." Negan used his forearm to push the black rubber strips aside, stepping into the playroom with a drink in one hand and his phone in the other. Apparently Joseph had fixed the heating. It was warm. "I am training the boys." He didn't need more than ten seconds to read the scene. Paul had obviously been busy kissing Daryl just a moment ago, because he had still a happy smile on his face, even though his posture was perfectly submissive and his eyes were lowered. Daryl crouched nervously next to him, with flushed cheeks and lips, pulling his fingers behind his back. He glanced up every now and then through his long bangs, unsettled by Negan's outfit. Tight pants and almost knee-high riding boots, matching his short-sleeved button down shirt, all made of leather. It wasn't something that Negan wore very often and made Daryl shift on his ankles.

"Yes, Saturday is good. I will be at the Eagle for a demo." Negan held his Scotch out for Paul to take and went to his steal cabinet, uncoiling the black belt he had put there. He folded it in half, holding the buckle and end in one hand, then slapped the loop against his own leg, creating a satisfying thwack. "Thanks. See you then." He switched his phone off and put it on the cabinet, searching for a few more items he needed. Lube, a condom, hand towels and a small, rather thin plug. He didn't bring any of it as he went back to his boys, just his belt, and stood very close in front of Daryl, in a wide stance, straightened to his full height to examine the young man on he floor in silence, until he snapped his fingers next to a pale ear.

Daryl glanced up, hesitantly. He wanted to say hello, but then didn't dare to speak.

"Did you wash and brush your teeth?" Negan got a quick nod for an answer, blue eyes flickering nervously. He held one finger up, arching his brows.

"I washed." Daryl opened his mouth, because he had brushed his teeth as well. For three minutes and 15 seconds.

Negan hooked his thumb behind his sub's lower teeth, pulling his jaw down a little for a better view. He looked longer than necessary, rubbed one perfectly white molar with his finger and then pressed a pink tongue down as he slid two fingers to the back of Daryl's throat, making him gag briefly. He enjoyed both, the sight and noise, and ended the inspection with a pat on the cheek, "Good boy." shoving a raisin between pale pink lips. "Get up. You want to undress for me."

Daryl wanted to say that he was undressed already, at least almost, because he didn't wear any shoes or pants or socks, but then he chose not to speak and just got up to take his underwear and shirt off. He folded both a bit awkwardly and put it on the floor, his heart thumping in his chest as if a hundred people would watch him.

"Nice." Negan reached blindly for the glass Paul was holding, took a sip, and handed it back. "Are you so pretty for me?"  

"Hm." Daryl nodded, looking down on himself as if he had to check and then mumbled a quiet, "Yes." because Jesus had waxed each and every hair off his groin area and it looked really very nice.

"Yes, you are, right?" Negan bit back a smirk and snapped his fingers. "Come here. Arms behind your back. Eyes on me." He watched patiently as his order was followed and used his folded belt to correct his sub's posture to his liking, sliding the thick leather over sensitive skin. "Good job. Who do you belong to, boy. Tell me."

Daryl smacked his lips, insecurely holding eye contact as he pulled his thumb behind his back. "To you."

"That's not how you wanna say it, though."

Daryl exhaled. The side of the belt moved gently up and down his leg and Negan looked really tall and beautiful from such a close distance. "'belong to you." He lowered his head but added a polite 'Sir' to his answer.

"Mhm." Negan put the belt underneath Daryl's chin, moving it up again. "Yes, you do." His gaze wandered from shy blue eyes to pale pink lips, with a single nod. "Open." It was a low command and got followed immediately.

Daryl held his breath as he slid his tongue out, making it broad and flat. He watched how Negan gathered some spit in his mouth and then felt his lower belly tingle in excitement when his chin was grasped by rough fingers and warm saliva was spat right onto his tongue. He loved the expression of pride and possessiveness in dark eyes and he loved even more how it all transformed into pure lust, when he closed his mouth and swallowed, before he displayed his empty tongue again for more.

Negan didn't close his eyes, but leaned in to lick a warm mouth and the soft skin inside as if he wanted his gift back. He earned a low moan and answered it by sucking a glistening upper lip, before he pulled back. "Take my shirt off."

Daryl blinked through his long bangs, huffed a breath and let his gaze drop. He really wanted to kiss more. But then followed the order and reached for the tiny black buttons of Negan's shirt, trying to fumble them with clumsy fingers through the small button holes. He needed almost two minutes for all of them, but Negan didn't comment on it and then generously helped when the tight leather material just wouldn't move off broad shoulders.

He slid out of the short sleeves and threw the shirt somewhere to his right, letting Daryl enjoy the sight of his bare chest for a moment, before he pointed with the belt loop to his left nipple. "Suck."

Daryl made a step closer and placed his hands on crisp chest hair, feeling firm muscles underneath his palms. He peeked up shyly as he poked his tongue out to flick it against a hard nipple, then closed his lips around it and sucked, pulled back a bit, teasing the wet skin with soft breath, before he sucked some more and closed his eyes, laving the nub with broad tongue.

Negan watched, his hand moving to the back of his sub's head, cupping it. "Good boy." He praised Daryl's efforts in soft voice. "Nice and slow. Eyes on me." He smiled, raising a brow when blue eyes fluttered open, gazing submissively up at him. "Boy." Then gestured at Paul. "Give me my drink."

Jesus rose gracefully to his feet, keeping his head lowered. "Sir." He handed the glass over, waited until it was emptied and took it back, carrying it to the cabinet. He put his hands behind his back as he went back to Negan, positioning himself quietly in a respectful distance.

Negan lowered his head, grasping Daryl's chin to pull it up. He opened his mouth and touched warm lips with his tongue, sharing the taste of his Scotch, then reached out to drag boy number two closer, holding him by the back of the neck, kissing him as well. "What are you wearing, bugger."

Jesus returned the kiss, answering truthfully. "My Simpsons shirt, Sir. It's baby Maggie."

"It's a fucking disgrace for my playroom." Negan caught his sub's lower lip between his teeth, pulling slightly. "Take it off."

"Yes, Sir." Paul complied, smiling, and threw the colorful shirt across the room, next to one of the cages. "Panties, too?" He tugged the waistband of his briefs, batting his eyelashes.

"Briefs." Negan corrected as he nuzzled Paul's ear, then bit his lobe. "Take them off and get the plug."

"Yes, Sir." Paul closed his eyes for a moment, loving the husky voice hissing into his ear. He pulled his underwear down, kissed Negan's shoulder, nudged Daryl's cheek with his nose and went to the cabinet.

"Lube, too."

"Yes, Sir." He kept his gaze lowered when he came back and held the bottle of lubricant out, along with the plug. "Should I lube him up?"

"No. It's for you." Negan gestured towards the restraint table. "Go stand over there. You wanna give Daddy a nice show." He tugged Paul's cock twice, nipping his lips. "Fuck yourself on that plug for me."

Arousal flashed over Paul's face. He got on his tip-toes, gently licking Negan's mouth, "Thank you, Sir." and went to the leather padded table, opening the lube bottle.

"Can I too." Daryl glanced up at Negan, feeling disappointed that Jesus got all the important jobs to do. He could be good as well and insert a plug. He knew exactly how that worked.

"May you go, play with your sweet little puppy hole for me?" Negan ran a firm hand up and down Daryl's bare back, pulling him closer to stand fully chest to chest. "No, you may not. You wanna stay here with me and give me some nice hugs and kisses, right?" He moved his hand down, first cupped a muscular butt cheek, then massaged a warm ass crack with two fingers. "Go on, cuddle me."

Daryl sniffed his nose and wrapped his arms around Negan's chest, squeezing a little, before he brushed his lips through coarse hair, up along a prominent collar bone and finally placed a kiss to the crook of a warm neck.

"Good boy, Daryl." Negan cooed, caressing his sub's bare side with the folded belt. "That's some nice puppy kisses." He trailed the leather over the swell of firm butt cheeks and feather light through the man's crack, causing goosebumps. "You wanna spread your legs for me. Let Paul see your hole."

Nervous excitement pumped through Daryl's veins, making the fine hair on his skin stand up as he felt the leather belt on his bare body. He kissed Negan's shoulder, then spread his legs wider and hid his face against warm skin and the rough stubble beneath a sharp jawbone.

Negan felt his sub's muscles tighten in nervous response as he glided his fingertips up and down sensitive skin. "You want me to use my new belt on you, boy?" He dragged the object in question across Daryl's ass, then took it off completely and brought it back after a moment, repeating the action daringly. "Hm? You want a nice pink mark on your gorgeous ass?"

Daryl held his breath, shivering. He wanted to answer but his mind went blank and really loud at the same time, so he nodded once and squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his nose anxiously into a safe shoulder, even though nothing had happened yet.

"Yes, you do, right?" Negan nuzzled the side of Daryl's face, then put a protective hand on the back of his head. "Nervous puppyboy. Breathe out for me." He waited until he felt the tense body relax a little, "Mhm, that's better." and flicked the belt loop against the back of Daryl's thigh, just hard enough to leave a small biting sting.  

Daryl flinched, digging his fingernails into Negan's back, the urge to show his signal getting overwhelming for a second, until his head got a chance to sort fear and shock from the actual pain. It didn't feel like a real belt. It didn't feel scary or threatening. It didn't hurt. It felt hot and then very good and safe, when a broad palm rubbed the sore spot soothingly.

"What's that, boy. Did I swat you?" Negan granted a brief respite, then swung his arm out to the side and snapped the belt against a bare ass, creating a nice pink flush. "I'm sure you want to answer!"

Daryl gasped and squeezed his eyes shut again, feeling his legs tremble. "Yes, Sir." He nodded, then arched his back a little when sizzling hot pleasure spread over his skin.

"Yes, I did."

The sudden fierceness of the third strike took his breath away, making him press against the tall, safe body protecting him.

"Fuck yeah." Negan chuckled deep in his throat as he glanced at Paul, draped obediently over the restraint table with wide spread legs, working the slicked-up plug in and out of his ass, hissing and moaning quietly.

The fourth crack sounding throughout the room was loud and the fiery pain blazing across Daryl's cheeks felt overwhelming, making him groan and his bare feet seek comfort by stepping onto neatly polished riding boots. Three more lashes struck his heated flesh, his thighs, his ass, blending into each other. He exhaled a small whimper against Negan's shoulder, then bit the damp flesh and licked it, feeling his heart flutter as he heard praising words along with another loud crack, delivering a confusing mix of pleasure and pain.  

"Yeah, look at you being so fucking good for me." Negan scraped his fingernails lightly over the vulnerable pink flesh, then gripped the back of his sub's thighs and pulled him close and a bit higher, letting him feel a leather-clad bulge. "Making me fucking hard, naughty puppy." He braced his legs a bit wider apart and lowered his mouth onto a collared neck, kissing it as he dropped the belt. "Wearing my fucking marks on your gorgeous ass."

Jesus looked back over his shoulder, his breath coming heavy when he saw Negan spreading Daryl's thighs and red glowing ass cheeks. He groaned, pushing the plug as deep as possible, circling his hips.

Daryl panted, feeling big hands all over his skin, handling him roughly. He curved into the warmth of Negan's body, wrapping both arms around his neck, trying to get even closer, his entire body humming with delicious burning pain and need. He sobbed, turning his face against a bearded jawbone in search for familiar lips.

"What do you want, boy." Negan grabbed him by the back of the neck, rocking his hips against a bare middle. "A kiss?" He looked into blue eyes, stroking the hair back from his face when he received a shy nod, "Oh yes? You want my tongue in your fucking pretty mouth?" then leaned forward to rub his lips over a flushed face, teasing with the roughness of his stubble, before covering pink lips with his mouth, swallowing a shaky breath.

Daryl went slack in the grip of strong hands, when a dominant tongue dipped between his parted lips, gliding along his in a rhythm that made his nerves tingle.

"Sir." Jesus moaned as he glanced over his shoulder to watch, and then hid his face with a frustrated huff into the leather padding of the restraint table, cursing. "Please."

Negan refused to be rushed, took his time, slid his tongue in deep one more time with a low groan and opened his eyes as he finished the kiss with soft, gentle lips on a glistening mouth. "Sweet boy, tasting so good for me." He held the gaze a moment then kissed again, speaking low and serious. "I want that fucking mouth on my dick. Get on your knees for me." He let his arms fall to his sides, expecting his request to be followed, and watched the dazed arousal in blue eyes being clouded by confusion and frustration, before his sub crouched down onto the floor, awkwardly getting into position. He didn't help to open both of the zippers at the left and right of his crotch, but he pushed his groin a bit forward, enjoying the nervous fumbling on his leather pants.

Daryl huffed a breath and glanced up with a little flick of the head when a rigid erection sprang finally free. He raised up a little higher, poked his tongue out with a shy glance up, searching for confirmation, before he wrapped his lips around the tip of Negan's cock, sucking softly.

"Mhm, good boy, looking at me."  Negan watched with rapt focus, raking his hand encouragingly through soft hair. He let it fall tousled around a pale face to frame glowing cheeks, and met the stare of shining blue eyes, while a wicked pink tongue swirled and lapped innocently.

Daryl pulled away with a small popping sound and immediately opened his mouth again for more, taking almost the entire length in and then didn't fight the harder push that let a swollen head breach his throat without preliminary notice.

"That's right, all the way." Negan stayed still for a moment, savoring the expression of pure devotion and intentness on his sub's face. Gagging, nostrils flared, eyes wide open, clearly struggling with the sudden invasion but not even for a second trying to fight it. The sight made the excited part of his perverted self groan in satisfaction. "Look at that, such a good boy for me." He nodded at the obedient agreement he saw in slightly teary eyes and slowly started to move back and forth. "Mhm. You wanna keep your fucking hands off my thighs, puppy. Use them to spread your ass. Show my boy your pretty hole while I fuck that throat."

Daryl gagged again, his tongue pressing against the underside of Negan's cock, spreading the thick saliva he choked up. He reached back, shifting on his knees a little and pulled his buttocks apart, feeling heat crawl up his skin. Without the steady grip on Negan's legs, he lost balance for a moment and moved back, coughing.

"No."

Big hands grasped his head instantly, a blunt thumb pulling his jaw down.

"Open. Fucking eyes on me." Negan slid his cock back through gaping lips, unimpeded, and held the strict stare warningly as he penetrated a tight throat, feeling it contract and gag around him. He groaned, trying to contain himself when a wave of deep pleasure churned through his lower abdomen, making his voice raspy. "Good job, sweetheart, keep looking at me." He started moving, holding his sub's head firmly in both hands, cradling it for full control, enjoying the submissive gaze fixed on him. "Are you taking my dick so well? Look at you, fucking gorgeous." He tilted Daryl's head a bit sideways for a better angle, his eyes drifting momentarily shut with a muttered curse, before he opened them again and nodded at Jesus, who had turned around, looking nothing but miserable. "You want to fuck my boy?"  

"Yes please, Sir." Paul's answer lacked the usual enthusiasm, more a avowal of his distress. He nodded, a hand between his legs, trying to keep himself from jerking off.

"Yeah?" A slight smile played around Negan's lips, glancing down as he buried himself to the hilt in Daryl's mouth, making him choke and splutter. "Come here then, get him ready."

Jesus wanted to say thank you and sacrifice his first born to one of his Dads, but didn't get a single word out. Instead he fell to his knees and got on all fours, crawling submissively up to Daryl's backside, giving Negan as much visual pleasure as possible. He glanced up, feeling dizzy seeing the deep arousal in dark eyes, and arched his back as he lowered his head down to give Daryl's exposed crack a long, wet lick. Then another one, moaned when he sucked free hanging balls into his mouth, and finally circled a puckered entrance with his tongue.

Daryl's nostrils flared, exhaling around Negan's dick. He grunted, closed his eyes and lost his instructed posture, needing to hold on to Negan's leg.

"Hands off, boy." Negan slapped his sub's cheek lightly, taking his head in firmer hold. "I hold you. You wanna concentrate on my dick." He pulled back for a moment, granting some much needed oxygen and fell in love with the little puddle of spit decorating the floor between his polished boots. He swiped his thumb over Daryl's gooey chin and lips, locking eyes. "More?"

Daryl coughed once and smacked his lips, but nodded instantly, opening his mouth wide.

"Yeah? Fucking eager, look at that." Negan cursed and bent down, spitting onto a pink tongue and brought his cock back into the hot wetness of his sub's mouth. He let him lick and suck for a while, enjoying the slurping noises, before he pushed deeper again, tipping his head back as he felt the thick head of his dick breach a tight throat. "Fuck yes." He gritted his teeth, one hand on the back of Daryl's head the other on the front of his collared throat, wanting to feel himself.

Jesus glanced up, groaning at the sight and arched his back more to display his throbbing ass. "You're so fucking hot, Sir." He went back to work, licking Daryl's fingers then helped him spreading firm butt cheeks to plunge in even deeper, moaning loudly.

Negan watched, panting, his expression heavy with lust. He urged himself back and forth and grimaced in stark pleasure when Daryl started to grunt and groan around him, sending deep vibrations to his nerve ends. "Yeah, tell me, puppy. Does that feel nice? You're being such a fucking good boy for me, right." His fingers tightened in ruffled hair when he saw blue eyes looking up at him in pure devotion, spit framing a pale pink mouth. He snarled at the potent image, increasing the force of his thrusts. "What is Paul doing, huh boy? Is he eating your sweet ass?"

Daryl tried to nod, running out of oxygen. He pulled back with a small gasp, coughing, "Yes, Sir." wiped some saliva across his mouth and instantly started to suck again, hollowing his cheeks as he gazed up to see Negan's face.

"Oh yeah? Is that what you wanna say? Are you so well behaved?" Negan watched a pink tongue and gooey lips working eagerly. "Yes you are, right. Look at you serving me so nicely." He raked his fingers through slightly damp hair, adoring the wet slurping noises. "You want Paul to fuck you?" He copied the wary nod he received, seeing a mixture of worry and need on a glowing face. Two fingers found the way back on his thigh in search for comfort. He took them in his hand.  "Mhm... you want me to hold you, right. Spread that pretty ass for him while you show me your beautiful puppy face. Isn't that true, sweetheart."

Daryl nodded in relief and felt Paul chuckle against his spit-wet butt.

Negan snapped his fingers."Paul."

Jesus gave the pink, twitching entrance a last lick, watched it contract and got up, following the small command. "Yes, Sir." He went close to Negan's side, kissing his shoulder. "We actually talked about it happening like that."

"Mhm." Negan snaked an arm around a slender waist and slid his hand between the man's thighs, massaging the embedded plug deeper into its place with his thumb. "Let me taste my boy." He didn't wait for Paul to part his lips, just forced his way between them, kneading a firm butt, pulling him higher up.

Jesus groaned, burying five fingers into Daryl's hair, while digging the sharp nails of his other hand into Negan's upper arm for support.

Daryl glanced up, forgetting his task for a moment. He tugged Negan's hand, wanting to tell him that he could kiss as well, but Negan didn't look at him and didn't stop what he was doing, just caressed gooey lips, spreading the warm saliva even more, offering his fingers to be licked and sucked. Daryl did and bit them slightly when Negan moaned into Paul's mouth. Then they were shoved to the back of Daryl's mouth and Negan moaned even deeper when the silky slick channel didn't protest against his intrusion, but relaxed around him and let him enjoy the texture.

Negan sucked the taste off Paul's tongue and licked it from his lips,  pulled the plug out a bit and pressed it back in with force and in a new angle, making the man's dick leak against his thigh.

"Sir," Jesus whimpered, feeling a bit overwhelmed by one of his Dad's possessive demeanor. "Please don't make me cum." He earned a deep chuckle and tug of his balls.

"Go, get your condom, bugger. Wait over there." Negan patted his sub's thigh, giving him a last kiss on flushed lips, then looked down at Daryl, grasping his chin. "You wanna get up and come with me?"

"Okay." Daryl blinked up at Negan's friendly face, flicking some hair out of his eyes. "The museum?" He wanted to take a picture of the beautiful tall angry man standing in front of an awesome dinosaur.

Negan felt his renegade heart swell and wasn't able to keep a rapturous smile from spreading over his face, from the corners of his mouth, over the dimples in his cheeks up to his eyes. He touched his tongue to his right canine tooth,  rubbing against its pointy end. "Is that where you wanna go with me?" He wrapped two of his fingers around three of Daryl's, pulling him up to his feet. "You want me to put you on my backseat and buy you a fucking snack? Chase the annoying kids away so my boy can see all the cool stuff first?" He wagged his brows once, brushing his fingertips up and down a bare side.

Daryl nodded. "Okay." He wanted that so badly.   

"Mhm." Negan pulled him closer and lowered down to inhale the scent of a warm face. "Yes, you do, right. But first you wanna come with me and let me hear all the sweet fucking puppy noises you make when Paul fucks you." He caressed his sub's wet asscrack, rubbing the pad of his thumb across the small hole he found. "Isn't that right, boy." His dick twitched in appreciation seeing the expression in his sub's eyes as he pushed against him, wanting him inside. "Good job." He whispered it, sharing a soft kiss and then took Daryl by the hand, leading him to the other end of the room, where Jesus knelt in submissive posture on the floor, next to a broad leather arm chair. He ran a hand through Paul's hair and sat down, snapping his fingers. "Where's your place. Show me."

Daryl crouched down between Negan's legs, giving him his full attention.

"Good boy. That's where you belong, right." Negan leaned back, stroking himself lazily. "Should Paul play with you now?"

"Hm." Daryl nodded, not taking his eyes off Negan's face. "Yes." His tongue darted out to wet his lips nervously. "What are you doin'."

"What will I do while my boys play?" Negan waved two fingers at Paul, giving him permission to take over. "I will sit right here and watch, make sure my puppy has a good time, right?"

Jesus smirked, planting a kiss on Negan's leather clad thigh, and moved to Daryl, kneeling behind him. "Hi puppy." He stroked some hair aside, lightly biting a pale neck before he kissed it. "How are you doing."

Daryl pulled a shoulder up, smiling, but reached his hand out for Negan's fingers.

"You smell like cruise ship ice cream." Paul sniffed soundly behind Daryl's ear, snaking both arms around the man's body, one at the waist, one further up, to caress smooth skin. "The vanilla one that tasted like chocolate." He slid another inch closer, spreading his thighs to rub his middle against a firm butt. "You remember that one?"   

"Hja." Daryl tilted his head back against Paul's shoulder but tightened the hold on Negan's fingers when a gentle hand tickled his belly and warm lips wandered along his collared neck.

"I sneaked out of the cabin once in the middle of the night and ate like three servings." Jesus chuckled between two kisses.

Negan briefly stopped stroking himself, quizzically cocking an eyebrow at boy number two's confession.  

Sensing resentful vibes, Paul quickly changed the subject and brushed his nose along the side of a warm face. "You also smell like Daddy." He slid a hand down between Daryl's legs, circling slender fingers around his erection. "It's like he marked you." He started stroking, spreading the man's precum over the entire length. "With his scent, you know."

A happy butterfly poked around in Daryl's belly, listening to Paul's explanation. He pushed his pelvis into the touch, opening his legs wider to give better access, and turned his head in search for the lips teasing him.

Jesus closed his eyes as he dipped his tongue into a silky mouth, moaning at the taste of fresh saliva. He thumbed Daryl's leaking slit, rubbing his own cock against a bare asscrack.

Negan watched, seeing his sub arching his back, forcing himself further into Paul's hand, panting into the kiss. "You don't wanna get him too excited, boy, he's close already."

Jesus took his hand off, massaging Daryl's balls instead and rose higher up on his knees, breaking the kiss. "Can you bend forward?" He whispered, nuzzling a glowing cheek. "Please?"

Daryl didn't open his eyes, snaking his tongue out for more kissing and touched himself, his body aching for release.

Negan chuckled at his sub's immunity towards the gently whispered instruction. "Boy." He tugged Daryl's hand, pulling him closer, grasping his chin. "Hands off your fucking dick." He gave the dazed blue eyes a firm look, nodding once. "You wanna present your pretty ass for Paul."

Daryl blinked up and instantly slid his knees apart, lowering himself down before he raised his butt.  

"That's better." Negan shoved a raisin between flushed lips. "Are you such a good bottom boy?" He smiled at the serious nod he got, watching as his treat was chewed and swallowed. "Yes you are, right? You want a nice dick up your ass."

Daryl let out a small grunt, feeling lubed fingers prodding his entrance and gentle lips kissing his lower back. He glanced back over his shoulder and then buried his face into Negan's lap.

Negan put a hand on the back of Daryl's head, stroking himself slowly with the other. "More lube." He loved the nervous excitement on Paul's face, as he fumbled with the condom, staring mesmerized at the small, pink hole waiting for him. "Finger him for a moment."  

"Yes, Sir." Paul nipped Daryl's buttcheek, licked the top of his crack and felt a hot flush running through his chest and lower abdomen when he twisted a finger into the pink glistening hole, seeing it twitch around him. He moved it back and forth once, then replaced it with his thumb, pulling a bit sideways to stretch the muscle, and tried to insert the tip of his other thumb as well.

Daryl huffed a hard breath against the smooth leather of Negan's pants, then poked his tongue against it. He tensed, moving a bit closer between spread legs.

Negan massaged the back of his sub's neck. "No, push out. You wanna help him."

Paul's lips parted, completely captivated, when his second thumb slipped in with ease. He pushed them both a bit deeper into the wet heat, then carefully pulled them apart, cursing at the sight. He leaned in to lick the small gap he created, poking his tongue between his thumbs, before he pulled them out and replaced them with two of his fingers, his dick jumping when Daryl instantly started to fuck himself on them, moaning.

Negan rubbed a drop of precum into the swollen head of his dick, watching the emotions on Paul's face. "Where's his prostate, show me."

Jesus circled his fingers once to the left, then to the right, before he crooked them, locking eyes with Negan when Daryl groaned and arched his back.

"Mhm." A glint went through Negan's eyes as Daryl glanced up at him. "What's that, boy. Does Paul finger your little hole?"

Daryl's eyebrows knitted in desperation when deftly fingers massaged a certain spot on his insides, making his toes curl. He wanted to say something, but then didn't and instead leaned down to lick the long fingers around Negan's cock. They tasted like salt and leather.

Paul savored the feeling of soft, slick flesh around his fingers a moment longer, then pulled back and rose up on his knees, gripping Daryl's hip with one hand, as he lined up his throbbing cock with the other, his fingers shaking slightly. He searched eye contact with Negan, nudging the swollen head of his dick against the exposed hole that clenched tightly around nothing.

Negan lifted his arm a bit when Daryl crawled even closer, burying his face into a bare stomach. He cupped the back of his sub's head with a comforting hand and enjoyed the way Paul's face contorted in pleasure as he pushed in, slowly breaching the snug entrance.

"Oh Lord have mercy." Paul panted, his lashes lowered over his eyes, nails digging into the pale skin of Daryl's hips when his cock was grabbed by tight heat, more and more. Half way in he stilled, sure he would cum. "Fuck." He gasped, wrapping himself around Daryl's back, licking and kissing along his spine. "Don't move."

Negan didn't say anything and bit back a smirk, massaging the nape of Daryl's collared neck, hearing his sub whimper against his stomach. "Does that feel good, boy?" He got a nod instantly, along with a huff of damp breath and two rows of teeth scraping his skin. "Mhm. That's so nice of Paul, giving you his dick, right?"

Daryl nodded again, "Yes." pushing his pelvis back, not sure why Jesus had stopped.

"Shhi-" Paul hissed and squeezed his eyes shut when Daryl impaled himself all the way down. He knew he would probably not last long, but even his humble goal of five minutes seemed now a bit overestimated. He took a deep breath and rose up, slowly starting to move. He watched his dick disappear between firm ass cheeks, watched Daryl writhe and arch, watched his fingers on the man's hips and lower back, feeling his own heart hammer inside his chest, driving his need and arousal higher. Sweat broke out over his skin as he locked his gaze with Negan's, hard and tight, seeing pride and lust in his face.

"That's my big boy." Negan let his eyes roam over Paul's fit, slender body, taking in the movements of his hips, a mix of pure need and gracefulness. "Are you making Daddy proud?"

"Yes, Sir." Jesus nodded, the amount of devotion for Negan made his throat tight for a moment.  

"Yes, you do." Negan confirmed, his deep voice a touch softer than usual. "Looking fucking hot for me."

Daryl lifted his head and glanced back over his shoulder, wanting to see Jesus as well, and then looked up at Negan to say that he could be hot for him, too. "Me." It was the only thing his hazy mind could come up with, so he stuck his tongue out in addition, submissively licking the man's balls.

Negan wiped the hair out of his sub's face, roughly grabbing a handful to hold him in place. "Yeah? Are you hot as well?"

Daryl gazed up, licking with long, sweeping strokes and then softly sucked one testicle into his mouth, moaning when Paul sunk into him deeply, pulled out almost all the way, and immediately pressed in again.

"Oh yes? Is Paul fucking his puppy brother so nicely? Tell me."

Daryl exhaled soundly and closed his eyes, groaning with the sharp nails digging into his skin and firm hands on his hips, pulling him back hard, again and again.

"Does his dick feel so good up your fucking tight hole?" Negan wrapped a hand around the front of Daryl's throat pulling him up. "You like when he fucks you hard, don't you, boy."

Daryl tried to nod in the firm grip, staring into Negan's eyes as he reached back with both hands to pull his ass cheeks apart, wanting more. It was difficult to breathe and think, he felt his penis twitch and leak, heard Paul grunt and groan deeper and more guttural than he was used to it, and then sobbed when his jaw was squeezed roughly to force his mouth open and Negan spat onto his tongue before he released him. He fell against a broad chest, finding himself squished between two men, the force of Paul's pumps ramming him into Negan's body.

Jesus bit Daryl's neck then leaned over his shoulder to meet one of his Dads for a messy, open mouthed kiss, groaning when his hair was grabbed tightly. He reached around Daryl's waist, finding his dick and didn't get to do much before the man squirmed and tensed, melting into a mess of whimpers and mewls, spilling his load, overwhelmed by the sensory overload. The tight muscles squeezing around him, put the final nail into his own coffin, making his skin ripple with heat and his muscles tighten. He whined and buried his face into the sweaty crook of Daryl's neck, sucking warm skin as intense contractions milked his pulsing dick, making every single nerve in his body spark up. He blinked, feeling dizzy and put a hand on Daryl's belly, entwining the fingers of the other with Negan's.

"Holy buckets, mother trucker." He slumped over Daryl's back, peeking through heavy eye lids and brushed some tousled hair from a flushed, sweaty neck. He kissed the silver collar he found and closed his eyes again, feeling a broad hand on his head and nothing but warm happiness flooding his chest.

----

Negan scrolled through the comments next to the last picture he had posted on his Instagram, pursing his lips. It was a photo of Jesus sitting on his lap, concentrating on the game he played on his phone, head resting against his shoulder.

It was just a normal picture, of an every day situation, nothing special.

The world wide internet community however held a heated discussion about the fact that Negan had his arm around Paul's waist while Daryl wasn't even there. It was enough to spark the rumor that Jesus and Puppy maybe had a fight. Maybe Jesus had replaced Daryl as Negan's permanent sub. Maybe Negan was on the lookout for a new boy.

Negan glanced up from his phone, considering to take another picture for his Instagram. Of the two young men sitting on the floor in front of the TV, in tight embrace, sharing a lazy kiss with a lot of tongue involved.

He tilted his head and watched a moment, then switched his phone off and got up to get himself a beer, ruffling his boys hair on the way to the kitchen. Fuck the internet.

Chapter Text

Negan sighed, taking his newspaper down. "What the fuck are you doing."

Jesus refrained from stuffing marshmallow number eight into his mouth, "Noffing?" and impressively swallowed the clod of gooey sugar mass with an audible gulp.

"I said one. In your cup."

Paul pointed an innocent finger at his 'Fueled by coffee and Jesus' breakfast cup, where a half-molten marshmallow floated on his hot chocolate almond milk.

Negan gave him a warning stare before he vanished again behind his stock report.

Paul gestured a 'phew' at Daryl, wiping his none-sweaty forehead with a grin and then jumped on his chair when a loud voice reminded him of his task.

"EAT!"

He cleared his throat, "Yes, Sir." and lowered his gaze submissively towards his plate and the very healthy poached egg and avocado slices Olivia had put on it.

Daryl glanced nervously from Jesus to the tall angry man behind the newspaper and then back at his spoon, not sure if it was too full or not. He smacked his lips, counting the tiny rings of gluten-free Cheerios again.

"Are we not going to the fucking museum if my boys don't behave at breakfast?" Negan held his newspaper with one hand, sipping his tea.

"Hm." Daryl nodded. That's what Negan had said in the bathroom. Because he hadn't been happy with scattered clothes, spilled toothpaste and the small flood in front of the shower. "Yes."

"Mhm." Negan nodded as well, putting his cup down. Maybe he should invest in this new company, that produced furniture made of coconuts. "But you don't have to count your cereal, right? Sit straight and don't wipe your mouth into my sleeve."

"Mm." Daryl straightened his back and sniffed his nose before he put the spoon into his mouth, without any slurping or spilled milk. He looked at the newspaper for confirmation, wiping his mouth with a red cloth.

"Good boy." Negan didn't have to see it to know that his statement was true and nudged Daryl's foot with his toes underneath the table.

"I wonder if they have a real mammoth." Jesus squinted at the ceiling, rubbing his chin. "Or a saber-tooth cat."

"Hm." Daryl nodded. He wanted to get up and show Paul the brochure, but he wasn't done with breakfast, so that wasn't an option.

"If I would've lived during the Ice Age," Jesus mused, forking the whole poached egg into his mouth before he gestured with his yolk-dripping cutlery. "I would have been a saber-tooth cat."

Negan sighed again when a thick drop of something yellow landed on the backside of his newspaper. He took it down and folded it. "If you would have lived during the fucking Ice Age, I would have dragged your disrespectful, freezing ass into the nearest cave to explain you fucking proper table manners with my god damn fucking club."

Paul glanced up in surprise, giving one of his Dads his undivided attention. "Really? Would you wear that little fur loincloth thing?" Pleasant pictures of steeled manly bodies in primal clothing danced through his head.

"No." Negan put the folded newspaper next to his plate. "I don't want my dick to freeze off."

Daryl looked up, flicking his head. "I would make fire." It was a quiet offer in slightly gruff tone but meant with the best intentions.

The tip of Negan's tongue poked out to wet his lower lip. "Oh yes? Would you be my little caveboy?"

Daryl nodded. He would also hunt and keep watch all night. "Yes."

"Mhm." Negan got up. "Would you keep my feet warm?"

"Okay." He could do it right now.

Negan smiled, standing behind Daryl to nuzzle his ear. "Yes you would. But you wanna finish your breakfast now so we can go to the fucking museum, before the idiot in the white house is done causing the next fucking Ice Age, right."

Paul stuffed the rest of avocado into his mouth, throwing the fork onto his plate and his arms up in the air. "I ride shotgun!" He already had a playlist in mind to set one of his Dads in the right mood for some prehistoric adventures.

----

Negan sighed and turned down the volume of the blaring radio where the B-52's sang about the Flintstones having a yabba dabba doo time, when he heard a phone ring. He glanced into the rearview mirror. "Boy. Who is it?"

Daryl stared at the display and the word UKNOWN, slight nausea building in his stomach.

Negan knew the distraught expression. "You don't know the number?" He received a nod and reached back. "Give it to me."

Daryl handed the phone over and listened attentively as Negan answered the call, obviously not scared or uncomfortable at all.

"Yeah." Negan held the phone between ear and shoulder, driving onto the museum's parking lot. "Mhm." He stopped abruptly, flipping Mister Miller-Grabowski in his old Chevy off when he pulled into the spot he wanted. "No, he's not. Bye." He ended the call even though the nice lady on the other end of the line wasn't finished with her sales talk for a monthly Pink Box subscription. "Daryl. Did you use your phone number online again."

"Hm." Daryl pulled his fingers. He had used it a few times, but only because the whole internet kept asking for his mobile number.

Negan waited almost a minute while he parked right next to the statue of a bright green Brachiosaurus before he gave up on a real answer. "One." He glanced warningly into the mirror, shutting the engine off. "And you wanna ask me from now on before you tell anyone your number."

"Hm." Daryl grimaced, dropping his gaze guiltily. "Okay."

"Hey, look!" Jesus leaned out of the car window to see the sign with the museum's price list. "They offer a family discount!"        

----

All visitors with premier membership pass received a pair of 3 D glasses with their ticket at the entry of the Fernbank museum of natural history, but Daryl gave them to Jesus because he didn't want to see the dinosaurs in red and blue.  

He wanted to see them as they were, all big and mighty. Kind of brown. The color of real bones. He wrinkled his nose and tipped his head back, looking up at the gigantic Tyrannosaurus. It even had all its teeth. And claws. He went a step closer, reached an arm out over the barrier...

"PUPPY!"

... and then flinched startled, his heart almost jumping out of his chest when a feral bark sounded through the huge exhibition hall, almost as loud as an angry dinosaur growl.

"What does the fucking sign say!"

Daryl looked warily at the black sign with golden inscription. "Bones."

Negan shook his head. "You don't wanna guess. Read for me, what does it say."

Daryl saw on the first glance that the sign had a word that he couldn't read. But it was the last one, so he wanted to read at least the others. "Please do not touch..." He huffed a breath, smacking his lips. "The exit." He peeked up at Negan and then quickly avoided his eyes when he realized that what he just read made no sense at all.

"Please do not touch the exhibits." Negan corrected, his tone encouraging. "Good job. What does it mean."

Daryl didn't look up, just pointed a vague finger at the skeleton. "Not touchin'."

A wry smile curved Negan's lips as he leaned in close to his sub. "No, it means Negan has to shield his boy from the lazy guard over there while he touches the fucking dinosaur so he won't get into trouble."

The confused expression on Daryl's face changed when a happy sparkle flickered through blue eyes.

"Hm." Negan cocked his brows at him and turned his back towards the giant exhibit, providing some cover.

Daryl glanced back over his shoulder, making sure he wasn't seen by anyone and then touched the huge bones, first with one finger, then with his whole hand. It was so exciting that three butterflies tickled a spot in his belly.

Negan waited patiently, nodding towards the guard at the other end of the hall. "Nice hat!"

The young guard blinked in confusion and looked around, not sure if the handsome stranger had actually talked to him. He smirked shyly, touching his hat. He thought as well that it looked awesome. So formal.

Negan reached back to take Daryl's hand, guiding him to the next room. "And? How does it feel. Better than my dick?"

Daryl shook his head, "Nho." chuckling quietly. But it felt almost as good.

----

Mister Ślazak led his slightly disturbed class of 2ndgraders away from a very lifelike Allosaurus model, to the much tamer seeming Velociraptor, relieved when little Chloe stopped crying and Shania cooed a small 'Aww' because it was so cute.

"I would pet it." 6-year-old Robert pressed his nose against the pane.

"No, I would pet it!" Little Thomas did the same, glaring at his buddy.

"And this bloodthirsty fellow was a fully functional killing machine. It had razor sharp claws, was fucking fast and much smarter than any politician in the fucking white house." A tall man in leather jacket and red scarf shoved some of the young museum's visitors out of the way to provide his own boys with some knowledge about prehistoric forms of life. "It would have torn you to fucking shreds before you'd been done pissing your pants!"

"Hja." Very colorful pictures of a real Velociraptor roaming the streets of New York to hunt people popped into Daryl's head.

"Awesome." Jesus took a picture of the cuddly saurian and then another one featuring himself holding bunny ears up behind its head before one of his Dads shoved him towards the next exhibit.

Thomas and Robert blinked after the group with open mouths, while Chloe and Shania started to cry again, seeking comfort in the thick fabric of Mister Ślazak's corduroy suit.

----  

No self-respecting Japanese tourist felt their visit to the United States of America complete without breathing in a bit of deep western culture.

Museum guide Patrick knew that of course and led his group into exhibition room 3-C, to present their new, special exhibit, 'Gladiators: Heroes of the Colosseum'.  "Immortalized by films, gladiators locked in mortal combat for the entertainment of the crowds in Rome's Colosseum, are larger-than-life figures in our mind!" He raised his voice a little to match the dramatic purport of his words. "This exhibition features more than 110 original artifacts including pieces of the Colosseum, authentic elaborately decorated bronze gladiator helmets and original arms and armor preserved in the ashes of Pompeii!" He faced his listeners, gesturing to the glass cabinets to his left and right. "You are invited to take a journey back in time and go behind the scenes to learn the story of these armed athletes who fought to entertain and inspire the people of ancient Rome!"

A wave of Oooh's and Aahh's went through the group of foreign travelers, and family Kitajima got all of their new digital single lens reflex cameras out to snap a ton of photos for aunt Toshiko who couldn't join them on their trip due to a severe case of aviatophobia.

"Ooooh, hijō ni omoshiroi!" Mister Kitajima took a picture of the different swords, showcased behind glass.

"Jaa kore ga suki desu!" Mrs. Kitajima found the original Roman armor interesting as well and photographed them from three different angles, while 17-year old Fumihiro Kitajima aimed his brand new Canon EOS M5 at the two live performers, who stood in front of a large painting of the famous Gladiators Crixus and Spartacus, making out unashamedly with a lot of tongue and lips involved. Fumihiro took 21 photos and then changed into video recording mode when the beautiful actor with the long, light brown hair started to knead and fondle his colleague's butt, hissing some words in American English between steamy kisses.

"Can't stop thinking about your ass." Jesus dug his fingers hard into Daryl's buttcheeks, grinding both of their hips together. "You felt so good." He loved the silky tongue slipping into his mouth and the desperate little sigh it brought along. "Next time Daddy needs to fuck me while I fuck you."

Young Fumihiro was fascinated by the portrayal of homosexual relations in ancient Rome and then made a very respectful step back when a third actor joined the scene, a very tall man, with gorgeous face, wearing sexy facial hair and black leather. Completely in character, he oozed the dominance and confidence of a true Roman warlord, harshly grabbed a handful of long, light brown hair as he kissed performer number one, and then sank his tongue deep into performer number two's mouth, groaning in delight, before he took them both by the hand to leave the room.

Fumihiro took a last picture and applauded happily, in awe of the dramatic arts in this country.

----

"Daddy?" Little Wyatt tugged his father's sleeve in front of the replica of Tutankhamen’s royal mummy, complete with his famous golden mask. "How come he's made of gold?"

Mister Gilbert glanced up from his smartphone and the heated Whats App argument he held with his ex-wife. "I don't know, maybe he was rich once." Much like himself, before Deborah and her divorce lawyer had squeezed each and every penny out of him, along with his beloved sports car and the vacation home in Utah.

"Hm." Wyatt nodded and made a step to the side when another museum visitor joined them to look at the exhibit. A very tall man in cool, black leather jacket.

"Hff." Paul felt exhausted after attaining so much knowledge in just a few hours and leaned his head against a broad, leather-clad shoulder. He examined the splendid face mask behind the pane for a while and then tugged one of his Dads sleeves. "Daddy..."

Negan glanced up from his smartphone and the heated Whats App argument he held with his employee. "What boy."

Paul pointed a weak finger at the glass box. "Why's he made of gold?" He was really tired. And hungry.    

Negan switched the phone off and put it into his pocket. "They wanted him to look fucking pretty in the afterlife."

"Hm." Paul nodded and moved an inch closer, snuggling up to Negan's side. "Why? Was he a celebrity or something?"

Little Wyatt wanted to know that as well and glanced up at the very tall stranger in anticipation.

"He was their fucking king. The most important, fucking powerful figure in their society." Negan put an arm around his sub's waist, patting his thigh. "He was worshiped. They considered him half-human, half-fucking-god."  

"Hm." Jesus nodded again, this time with a knowing smile spreading across his face. He understood the ancient Egyptians so well. "Much like you." He closed his eyes and enjoyed the deep chuckle vibrating through a broad chest before a kiss was planted on his hair.

Mister Gilbert gave the odd couple to his right a disgusted look and pulled his son a bit to the side. "Wyatt... go find your sister. Time for lunch."

Negan patted Paul's thigh again, even more lovingly this time. "Go get your brother. Daddy's fucking hungry."

----

"Daryl."

A mountain of dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets next to an even bigger pile of french fries that looked like bones, drenched in ketchup. Daryl had never eaten anything better for lunch.

"Boy."

He stuffed three more bone-fries to the two Brachiosauruses into his mouth and didn't swallow before he took a sip of his coke, while he studied the box in his hands. It was a collection of real meteorite fragments from around the world. A stony iron one from the Sahara Desert, one from Morocco and a fragment from the Campo Del Cielo crater field in Argentina. He felt like the richest man on earth, possessing something that came from outer space and he couldn't wait to show it to Merle.

"Hey!" Negan lost patience when his sub neglegted the fork next to his plate for the third time, noisily sniffed his runny nose, grabbed a big handful of fries and blindly shoved them into his mouth, followed by a greasy piece of reconstituted poultry meat with ketchup. "What the fuck are you doing!"

"He eats like a caveman." Paul guessed, wearing his new, very British 'I am a Tea-Rex' shirt over the shirt he had dressed in this morning. "It's the theme here." He chuckled and then hissed and cursed, reaching underneath the table to rub his shin when a heavy biker boot didn't approve of his sassy remark.

Daryl looked up and guiltily wiped his salt-covered palm into the fabric of his pants. "'m sorry."

"Concentrate on your food." Negan put the slightly greasy box of rocks and metal, he had just spent $139,- on, to the other end of the table, "FORK, BOY!" and then made Daryl flinch startled when two nervous fingers reached for a french fry. He held the firm stare, watching the correct use of cutlery for the next 62 seconds, "Better." and got a paper tissue out of his jacket pocket to wipe his sub's nose, ignoring that the lady at the table next to them did the same with four-year-old Annabel. "Did you like the museum?"

"Hm." Daryl nodded and inhaled deeply before he blew his node again, looking at Negan over the unfolded tissue. "Can we stay." Until night would have been terrific.  

"May you spend the whole day at the fucking museum?" Negan wiped the damp tissue a last time underneath the man's nose and threw it on his empty plate. "No, you may not. You wanna go back home and pack our bags for tomorrow, right?" He moved the untouched bowl of salad closer to Daryl's plate, reminding him to eat it.

"Riiiiight." Jesus looked up with interested, seeing himself already with a surfboard and flower garland. "Hawaii!"

"Florida." Negan corrected. "And you wanna eat your..." He gestured to the huge burger on Paul's plate, dripping with a mix of ketchup and mustard. "Thing. It gets cold."

Daryl looked from Paul to Negan. He didn't know they would go to the port again. "Are you workin' on the ship?" Maybe this time they could just be in the pool and swim, or drink juice all day.

"No. Open." Negan took his own fork, put some lettuce leaves on it and held it in front of his sub's mouth. "We will be at a beach resort. I won't be working, I will sleep and fuck and watch my puppy swim in the fucking ocean."

Daryl listened and stopped chewing when wonderful pictures of the ocean popped into his head. He looked at Negan, chuckling. He could also pee in it.

Negan smirked. "You like that, don't you."

Daryl nodded. "Yes." He liked that very much. Even more than the museum.

Chapter Text

"... world class snork-" The young man sitting on one of the Leather Factory's loading docks next to a mountain of bags and suitcases smacked his lips and put a finger on page 17 of his 'Florida Keys Vacation Planner'. It was really not easy to read it, but he wanted to know about all the things people could do at the ocean. "Snorkeling... scuba diving... deep sea fis... fishing and camping." His eyes lit up at the last two, pictures of him roasting fish for the tall angry man at a fantastic campfire popped into his head. He flipped through the next pages, looking at all the pictures of palm trees, white beaches and young men on surfboards. He really wished they could start already and got his phone out to type the 3rd message in 28 minutes because he was really scared they would miss their plane.

I am redy. are you coming

He didn't get a message back, but his phone rang after 17 seconds. He tapped the green button and held it to his ear.

'What do you wanna say.'

Daryl sniffed his nose. "Daryl Dixon."

'That's better. I'm on the way to pick Paul up. Then we start.' Negan threw four bottles of Kiehl's Face & Body SPF 30 sunscreen on the passenger seat. 'Did you carry all the luggage downstairs?'

Daryl nodded before he answered with a spoken word. "Yes."

'Good job.' Negan climbed behind the wheel and patted the collar of his shirt in search for his sunglasses, then rummaged through the glove compartment, before he remembered that they were still on the kitchen counter. He sighed, putting his seatbelt on. 'I need my fucking shades. You wanna go get them for me? They're in the kitchen.'

"Hm." Daryl nodded again, smiling. He wanted to do that. "Okay."

Negan leaned back into his seat, stressed already, and it wasn't even nine in the morning. He really needed some serious vacation. 'Mhm.' A faint smile crooked his lips as he heard the sound of a door and someone eagerly jogging up the stairs.  'Are you my good boy?'

"Hm. Yes." Daryl's smile grew even wider, because he really was.

'Yes, you are.' Negan reached for the key to start the engine. 'See you in thirty min-'

Daryl glanced at the display when the call was suddenly disconnected and thought about calling Negan back. But he rather wanted him to quickly pick up Jesus and come back to the factory, so he didn't disturb him again and instead unlocked the door to the apartment. Olivia was inside, listening to some boyband while she cleaned the floor.

"Did you forget something?" She wiped a strand of stray dark hair from her face as she glanced up at the criminal entering the living room.

"Hm." Daryl nodded and went straight to the kitchen. He found a pair of black Ray-Bans on the counter, next to a bowl of fruit. He took a banana and a peach, just in case somebody would get hungry at the airport.

"Have a good time!"

He gave the friendly cleaning lady a shy smile as he left and pulled the door shut. Maybe they would even get food on the plane again. Pudding or pasta.

He went downstairs and outside, sat back down on the loading ramp and read some more in his vacation planner, getting butterflies in his belly every time a car came close to the factory. After 16 minutes he put the thin book into his backpack and wrinkled his nose as he looked up into the sky, watching a tiny airplane between the white clouds. He really couldn't wait to be up there. After 32 minutes the tension in his stomach was almost unbearable and he didn't take his eyes off the driveway anymore. After 50 minutes he hopped off the loading ramp and carried the sunglasses all the way up to the store's parking lot, but the wonderful black Tahoe was nowhere to be seen. He went back and sent a message with his phone. Just a short one, and he felt bad immediately for being so impatient and disturbing Negan again. After 72 minutes he glared at the display because he still didn't have an answer. Maybe Negan was angry because he was so annoying. After 85 minutes, his butt felt cold and he had to pee, but he didn't want to go inside, scared to miss Negan's arrival. He chewed his bottom lip and sent a message to Jesus, asking if they would come soon. But even after ten more minutes his phone didn't beep with an answer. He squeezed his thighs together, glanced a last time towards the street, and then went through the white cellar door to use the toilet near Negan's office. Extra fast. He didn't even dry his hands off after a quick wash, because he thought he had heard a car door. But the driveway was still empty and no shiny black car had arrived when he came back out. He sat down between all the bags and stared at the time on his phone. It was almost two hours now since the phone call with Negan. His heart sank and a numb feeling spread through his chest. They surely would miss the plane now. Or Negan and Jesus hadn't missed the plane and they just hadn't picked him up, because they wanted to spend the fantastic beach vacation alone, without annoying people.

He grimaced at the thought, remembering all the things he had done wrong and bad in the past weeks. He really had been awful. And Jesus looked so pretty in his bright blue swimwear. No wonder Negan wanted to go with him alone.

"Boy!"

Daryl's head shot up and he jumped off the ramp, a thousand apologies on the tip of his tongue, before he forgot them all because it wasn't a tall, angry man coming down the driveway. It was the mustache guy, in his dark brown leather jacket that always smelled like cigars. But he didn't wear his usual bright smile. He just carried a bunch of keys in his hand, looking very serious.

"Did Rick call you?"

Daryl sniffed his nose and glanced at his phone. There wasn't a call, so he shook his head. Then dropped his gaze when Simon put a hand on his shoulder and leaned down a bit in an attempt to create eye contact.

"Big man was in an accident. Wait in the car for me, I'll take you to the hospital." Simon put the keys into the young man's hand and waited for a reaction that didn't come. "Will just put all this stuff inside." He patted his back and shoved him in the right direction.

The weather was really very cold and wet gravel scrunched beneath Daryl's shoes as he walked up towards the parking lot, holding a pair of sunglasses in one hand and a phone and bunch of keys in the other, feeling cold to the bones. He blinked slowly and looked back over his shoulder, seeing the mustache man carrying two suitcases and a duffle back through a red door. He stopped, frowning. Then dropped the keys and watched his trembling index finger tapping on different numbers on his phone display. The only numbers he knew in the right order without needing to check. The temperature dropped another ten degrees as he held it up to his ear and instantly heard a stranger's voice, telling him to leave a message. He didn't want to and called the same number again and then a third time, but the result was always the same, Negan didn't answer.

"Boy." Simon came up behind him and curled a comforting hand around the back of a collared neck, squeezing once. "Come on, I'll take you to the hospital." He picked up the keys and guided him the last few steps towards the parking lot, unlocking the passenger door. "Get in."

The heavy scent of cigarettes and an unfamiliar after shave invaded Daryl's nose when someone leaned over him to fasten the seatbelt. He stared out through the windshield at the street and other cars, signs and stores and houses, people on the sidewalk, and he heard all the words Simon told him. About women who lost control of their vehicles and drove straight into parking cars. Idiots in possession of driver's licenses. Destroyed driver's cabins. Good paramedics, courageous first responders and well-placed taxes for the benefit of the emergency medical service.

He heard it all and understood nothing. He looked from left to right, then down at his phone and the pair of black glasses, and he raised one of them up against his lips, while his mind formed blurry pictures of a tall angry man with a white bandage covering the beautiful black leather of his left jacket sleeve. He sniffed his nose, not liking the image.       

A large hand with long fingers wrapped around his wrist when the car came to a halt and the door opened, bringing more coldness to his shivering body. The hand dragged him across another parking lot, through large automatic doors, a huge lobby, into an elevator and out again, along strangely illuminated hallways with more automatic doors, heavy ones in dark blue. At the end of a very long corridor were chairs, four of them and three were taken. By Rick, Shane and Eugene Porter, all sitting there in silence, their forearms or elbows propped on their thighs, their heads down, the sadness and heavy emotions surrounding them thick enough to grasp.

"Anything new?"

Shane was the only one who got up and approached the two new arrivals, his face more compassionate than usual, his voice strangely soft. "No. Boy is in there."

"Hm." Simon made Daryl sit down on a free chair, ruffled his hair once and then sighed, searching his pockets for change. "Anyone else a coffee?" He shrugged when everyone shook their heads and vanished to find a vending machine.

Daryl looked at the man sitting next to him as if he had never seen him before. "Where's Negan."

Rick didn't look up, just gestured to the nearest door on the opposite side of the corridor. "Wait until Paul comes out."

Daryl stared at the door. It was white and B-3.16 was written on it in thick, dark blue color. Maybe it was the bandage room. Maybe Jesus helped to put it on. He probably held Negan's phone until the doctor was done.

Or maybe not, because Jesus looked very sad when the door opened just a minute later. His eyes were red, just like the tip of his nose, and his eyelashes were wet as if he had cried for a very long time. Still, he smiled faintly when he saw Daryl and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "Hey Puppy."

Daryl got up from his chair, his eyes flickering nervously, before Paul embraced him, hugged him really tight and sobbed once against his shoulder. Daryl stiffened. "Where's Negan."

Paul didn't answer, but he made a step back and wiped tousled hair out of his face, gesturing to the room he had just left. Then he buried his face in a broad, muscular chest and was comforted by strong arms holding him and big hands stroking his head. One of the broad hands reached for Daryl, too. Touched his shoulder and stayed there.

"Should I go with you?"

Daryl shook his head. Negan didn't like the buzz cut man. They were no friends. He just came with the package.

"Okay." Shane tried for an encouraging smile and lowered his chin on dark blond hair when the slender body in his hold heaved with a heavy sob. "I'll wait here."

Daryl sniffed his nose and glanced at the man's sympathetic face, finding it as strange and unreal as the whole situation. Hospitals, sad Paul and bandages on leather jackets. He wanted to tell it all to Negan. He wanted to feel a safe hand on his head and hear the sound of snapping fingers. But when he pulled the heavy door open and entered the room, there was no safety and no signal guiding him towards his place. No bandage, no doctor, no tall angry man in leather jacket.

There wasn't even firm ground to walk on. Just a hole that was so deep that his stomach flipped and a high pitched sound escaped his throat when he fell into it, so fast and far down that he got dizzy. He couldn't look and didn't want to see it. He squeezed his eyes shut. Pain shooting through his chest directly into his heart.

All the people on the corridor had lied to him. Rick and Paul and Shane. Negan wasn't in the room. Not the one he knew. Nobody tall and strong and safe. Nobody touching his head for comfort. Nobody telling him that everything was okay. Because nothing was.

Seven different machines and monitors beeped around a bed and the person lying in it. Deathly still, a multitude of tubes attached to every limb and orifice. Dark hair somewhere underneath white bandages. And a pained, strangled whimper left Daryl's throat, seeing the person's face. Swollen and in strange colors, dark blue, almost black. Deep red and purple. Pale lips parted by a wide plastic tube that was held in place by white tape.

He made a step back, seeing the horrific image in front of his eyes become blurry when hot tears poured out from somewhere deep inside him, from the same spot that strangled his throat painfully, keeping his lungs from breathing. The person in bed didn't have Negan's size or frame. He looked weak and small, limp and not even really there. It wasn't Negan. It couldn't be.

Daryl gasped for air. Just once, and wrapped an arm tightly around his chest. He didn't want to step closer, but his feet moved anyway. He sobbed twice, holding on to his phone and the pair of black sunglasses for dear life, not sure why the man in bed seemed so lifeless and fragile, why the thin sheet covering him didn't seem to have much underneath. It made him angry and scared him more than anything he had ever seen before. Confusion blurring his mind, making his knees feel as if they could no longer support him, unable to grasp what was happening. Why did his man look so disturbingly death-like. He wanted to wake up from this nightmare but didn't. He wanted to shout and scream, order Negan to stop. Telling him that he couldn't live without him. He wanted to ask his strong, confident owner what to do and where to hide. But not one word or single sound left his mouth, instead the silly smartphone fell to the ground and he crouched down next to it, reaching for the big hand he found laying on the thin white blanket, as lifeless and unresponding as the rest of this battered person, but the only body part that looked familiar and comforting in some way. Broad and beautiful, veins standing out and fine dark hair all over, long fingers with perfectly trimmed nails. He touched them and refused to acknowledge how cold they felt. He stroked them, almost frantically, his own hand shaking so badly as if the room was several degrees below freezing point. "Hello." He glanced up at the swollen, bruised face and a big sob choked all the other words he had planned to say, because there wasn't any reaction. Still he didn't look away and didn't lower his head. It didn't matter that his vision was blurry. Negan loved eye contact.

He kept on stroking the cool fingers, wanting to say that he was there and that he was good, that Negan didn't have to worry. He took the pair of black Ray-Bans and put them up on the bleached white sheet, carefully sliding them underneath one of Negan's fingertips so he could feel them, so he would know that Daryl had brought them for him. But no matter how long he stared at the ghost-like face, all the bruises and swollen eyes, the horrible tube slotted between perfect lips, there was no reaction. The only reassurement that there was somebody else alive in this hell of a hospital room, somewhere beyond the snakes of tubes and beeping machines, was the unnatural sound of the pumping and hissing of the ventilator forcing air into lungs, combined with the electronic signs of body function.

... until the door swung open and a person in blue uniform and white mouth cover entered in a professional manner, attending to the countless monitors, obviously able to make sense of all the luminous numbers and symbols that flickered in various waves and pattern across their screens.

Daryl watched as one of the four drips constantly pumping into Negan's frail body was changed and stared at the nurse in desperation, hoping that she was the one to make everything better, to get Negan to open his eyes.

But when she turned to him and said something it sounded cool and almost condescending. "You'll have to wait outside if you're not immediate family." She finished her task and walked around the bed, took the sunglasses off her patient's bed and touched Daryl's shoulder. "Please, wait outside."

The sudden clatter and loud voices coming from room B-3.16 let an alarmed visitor get up from his chair in the corridor. "Hey! What's going on?" Shane didn't need more than two seconds to be at Daryl's side, pulling the raging man away from the nurse.

"I told him only immediate family!" She was clearly surprised by the young man's outburst. "We have a waiting area outside."

Shane curled a hand around the back of Daryl's collared neck, making a protective step forward. "He's his partner. He stays."

Daryl wiped his wet, snotty face into his shoulder, his chin quivering as he glanced up at Shane in surprise and relief.

Nurse Nora didn't seem happy with the situation but wasn't willing to argue any more in front of her patient, so she held her hands up in defeat and left the room without another comment.

Daryl wiped his eyes once more into his sleeve and immediately returned to Negan's side, crouching down on the floor. He put the pair of sunglasses back underneath cold fingers and started petting them again, his own body trembling.

"Should I bring you a chair?" Shane attempted to touch Daryl's shoulder but then didn't and instead rubbed his own neck. "He'd want you to be comfortable."    

Daryl shook his head and held on to Negan's forefinger. He wanted to kneel and be good. It was the only thing he could do.

Shane pinched his nose, squatting down next to Daryl, tilting his head to the side, trying to create eye contact but failed. He spoke anyway, his voice quiet and concerned. "His head is badly injured. They put him into an induced coma to give his brain time to heal. When the swelling goes down they will wake him up again." He put a hand on Daryl's back, hearing the man sob in shock. "The doctor said we have to wait 72 hours, then they'll do another CT scan to see if there's improvement."

Daryl stared at Negan's fingers and the black shades underneath, listening to Shane's words, each of them filling his heart with horrendous, cold fear that overrode all other thoughts. He squeezed his eyes shut briefly, tears spilling down his cheeks. And when he opened them again he looked at the man squatting by his side, finding an expression of gentle sympathy. He sniffed his nose, his voice weak and hoarse. "'s he in pain?" The thought alone took his breath away. The thought whether Negan was maybe terribly scared almost made him vomit.

A soft smile flickered for the split of a second over Shane's lips, his eyes glazing over with the shimmering of tears. He dropped his head and shook it, looking at his shoes. "No, I don't think so. But my..." He cleared his throat and pinched his nose before he looked up again. "My little sister, you know. She was in a similar condition when she was a kid." He inhaled, wetting his lips, hating the memories almost as much as this situation. "She was in a coma but our mother, she visited her every day and would speak to her. Sing and read. Touch her hand and everything." His voice cracked a little and he cleared his throat again. "And when my sister woke up again she remembered it all. She said she had felt it and it helped her to get better." He tried again for a smile and reached out to squeeze Daryl's fingers on Negan's lifeless hand. "He's the strongest bastard I know, he'll come back." He didn't kiss Daryl's head when he got up, but he nudged his nose into tousled hair and then ruffled it once, "We'll wait outside for you. Tell him something nice." and left, shutting the door quietly.

The third chair on the corridor was taken by Abraham now. "Where's Paul."

Rick didn't look up. "Wanted to leave."

Shane squinted, putting a hand on his hip. "And you let him go?"

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes at the accusing tone. "He wanted to leave."

Shane gritted his teeth, biting back another comment. Instead he spoke to Eugene and Abe. "Can you stay with Daryl."

"Sure." Abraham gave a nod, patting Eugene's thigh. "We'll take him home."

"Hm." Shane sniffed his nose, gesturing at his boyfriend. "Coming?"

"I'll stay." Rick's answer was quiet but determined and he didn't look up or say anything else when his partner left.

----

"'brought your shades." After almost an hour of silence, his timid words sounded strange and surreal to Daryl's own ears. He chewed his lip, fumbling with Negan's fingers, finding a bit comfort in the fact that they felt slightly warmer now that he was holding them. "I'll catch a... fish..." His voice cracked and his throat got too tight to finish the sentence when he realized that he wouldn't catch a fish for Negan in Florida because the plane was gone and Negan was here at the hospital, attached to a dozen of machines that kept him alive. The urge to apologize for lying instantly nudged in his stomach and he did, sniffing his nose. "'m sorry." He was. Not only for the fish he wouldn't catch but also for sitting on the loading dock while Negan got hurt. For not being there in the horrible moment when a car crashed into the wonderful black Tahoe and into Negan's body, destroying both. For not holding his hand and petting his hair until the ambulance came. He wanted to apologize for sending impatient messages and worrying about silly planes and stupid vacations at the beach while Negan was hurting and bleeding on the asphalt, fighting for his life. He wanted to swap places with Negan. He wanted it so badly that his stomach turned and clenched with black, numb despair.

Abraham entered the room after three hours, finding Daryl kneeling in front of the bed, his arms up on the thin sheet, both hands holding on to two of Negan's fingers, his forehead resting against the edge of the mattress. As if he was praying. Pleading that his God wouldn't leave him.

----

Daryl didn't go home in the evening. He didn't explain why and refused to talk at all. But Mister Porter seemed to understand the reasons behind it just well and stayed in front of the hospital room in the same obstinate mentality as the man who refused to leave it.

Various faceless people in white coats visited Negan throughout the night, bluntly discussing his condition as though nobody else was present. But that was okay, Daryl wanted to be invisible.

He sat in his spot on the left side of Negan's bed, unmoving, incredulous and terrified for hours, staring transfixed at every blip, beep, hiss and flicker on all the monitors. And even though he had little understanding of their precise meaning, a while after midnight he was sure he had figured out most of their significance. Heartbeat, respiration, blood pressure. Even lines and calm waves were a good thing, any fluctuations were not and would set off alarms and bells, bringing anxious-looking doctors into the room and new tears of forlornness into Daryl's eyes.

27 times a nurse with short grey hair came in to go through her nursing duties, pushed buttons, changed drips, administered a seemingly infinite amount of medication, cleaned dried blood from her patient's ear that had been overlooked before. She never said a word and never asked the young man crouching on the floor to leave his partner's side or let go of his hand.

At almost four in the morning, when exhaustion crept in and overtook, letting Daryl's heavy eyes drift shut for just a moment, his head resting on the edge of the mattress, the monitors and machines suddenly collaborated in an ear-shattering concert of shrill alarm. Daryl's head shot up, his eyes wide when the sound of hurried footsteps came from the corridor and the door flew open, bringing a whole brigade of doctors and nurses in. He was shoved out of the way without explanation, the only precious contact he had been able to keep, holding limp, cool fingers, cut as if it didn't mean anything. He held his breath, arms wrapped around his body, fingers curled around a pair of black sunglasses, watching in panic as countless hands touched the battered, fragile body in bed, much too rough. Everyone talked, raised voices giving instructions, wires were detached, bed rails folded out, left and right, before the bed was hurriedly wheeled out of the dim room.

"What happens." Daryl's voice betrayed him and wasn't even audible when he stared in shock, but his feet didn't let him down and followed their king like they always did. One step in front of the other, faster and faster in pace with the people in white and blue uniforms. In front of heavy white doors with dramatic red signs painted on, everyone stopped and he didn't question why he was suddenly let through to Negan's bedside. He felt a hand on his shoulder when he leaned down to press his lips on icy, pale fingers, again and again. He heard himself saying weird things, heard himself apologize and plead for help and when Negan didn't do anything, he turned around and begged one of the faceless people in blue clothing. "Can you help." It sounded choked and strangely high pitched and he didn't know whether his request was heard or not, but he was shoved out of the way once more, and the center of his world, the most beautiful and most important person he had ever known, his all and everything, was brought through the heavy doors, away and out of sight, leaving him alone on the brightly illuminated corridor, with a pair of Ray-Bans, the only thing left to hold on to.   

He stared at the thick, horrific doors, feeling as sick and empty as if his heart had been ripped out to go with Negan. He sobbed once and turned around, hiding his face in his hand, before he walked from left to right a couple of times, weeping, not sure what to do.

"It's best to contact close people for emotional support in situations of deep distress." Eugene held the smartphone up that he had found on the floor in an empty hospital room.

Daryl wiped his face with his sleeve, blinking up at the familiar face suddenly standing in front of him. "He's in there."

Eugene nodded. "It's the area for surgical interventions. My read is that a neurosurgeon will try to relieve the inter-cranial pressure."

Whatever it meant exactly, it sounded harrowing to Daryl's ears. He sniffed his nose and turned away again, facing the wall. For a long time. Wishing Merle was there to shout with the hospital staff for taking Negan away. Wishing Jesus was there to tell him that it wasn't so bad and Daddy would be fine. Wishing Negan was there, tall and strong, making him hide between safe legs until everything was good and right again. But they all weren't there, and after an hour he tapped on the smeared display of his phone with a shaking finger and found the only number that sounded somewhat comforting and helpful. The quick answer took him by surprise and his scattered brain couldn't come up with words but Mister Walsh at the other end understood the urgency of the situation anyway and provided what was necessary, in gentle but firm words.

'Sit down and wait, I'll find you. I'm there in twenty minutes.'

Daryl didn't think about it, he didn't want to, his overwhelmed, deeply frightened head much too thankful for the simple instruction. He sat down and waited, not questioning the bottle of water and the banana Shane handed him after twenty-two minutes.

Not fighting Rick's hand combing through his tousled hair.

Not wondering why Jesus was present, sitting on a chair next to him, but didn't say anything or didn't look anywhere except at the display of his phone where he ordered his Sim around in a make-believe world.

He didn't mind at all that when after almost three hours the heavy doors opened and a man in green uniform appeared, Shane stood firmly by his side to lead the conversation, with his arms crossed in front of his chest, his feet in a wide stance, his eyes confidently fixed on the doctor's face, nodding to the things he was told and demanding answers to the information he was denied.

Daryl was quiet and watched nervously, trying to follow the conversation, hoping that 'all has gone to plan' meant something positive, and the fact that nobody mentioned the words 'death and funeral' was a good sign.    

He didn't know why people asked him if he wanted to go to breakfast and didn't understand why Paul rose from his seat immediately, his mirrored sunglasses firmly on his nose, offering no word, no smile, no touch. Vanishing as if he had waited the whole time for the opportunity to leave again, no matter where to.

Negan looked different and paler than before when he was brought out again, accompanied by only two people in blue uniform. They didn't stop to give the chance for hand kisses or blabbered words, but Daryl followed anyway, hurrying along the corridors, trying to walk next to the bed, carrying Negan's shades because he needed them.

The filtered rays of early morning sun poking through the slatted blinds in room B-3.16 feigned a new day and brighter outlook that wasn't real. The same monitors were attached to the patient they surrounded, the same beeping and hissing of machines filled the sterile air, leaving Daryl with the same fear and uncertainty.

Even the nurse with the grey hair was still there. But this time, when she attended to her patient, she had the hint of a gentle smile on her face and briefly touched his bruised cheek. "Good boy."

It was the only thing she said before she left again and Daryl stared after her, first confused, then absolutely shattered when his tired brain understood why this person felt the need to praise the strongest, most powerful man in the whole universe in such a way.

He took Negan's fingers and inhaled their scent, kissed them and buried his face into a broad palm that still smelled familiar, that still was there to touch.

----

The day wasn't as hectic and turbulent as the night had been. The machines didn't set off alarms or any shrill bells, the doctors coming in didn't seem as concerned as before, the nurses kept doing the same things for hours.

And in the early afternoon, Daryl glanced up from his place on the left side of Negan's bed, when a male voice argued with a nurse on the corridor and not even 15 minutes later a second bed was wheeled into the room. An empty bed, without any wires and monitors, but with pillow and blanket. It was put next to Negan's and Shane came and squatted down, unlacing a submissive's shoes before he took them off and wordlessly helped him up on the bed. He put the shoes out of the way and moved a wheeled nightstand to Daryl's side, equipping it with a water bottle and silly smartphone. "He'll sleep better when you're next to him." He gave Negan's sub a faint smile, "Rick's outside if you need something." and left quietly.

Daryl didn't say anything and looked at the closed door for a long time before he allowed his exhausted body to lay back on the mattress. He turned onto his side and reached over to touch cool fingers, then laced them together with his, not taking his eyes off the face he loved so much, even bruised and battered.

His eyes drifted shut after 42 minutes and it was dark when he opened them again, startled, guilty for not maintaining watch. But Negan was still there, his limp hand still held safely, his lips still parted by a wide plastic tube to provide essential air.

A bag stood on the nightstand, filled with things for two. Two toothbrushes, eight pairs of underwear and luxurious Hugo Boss sleepwear along with a pair of dinosaur pajama bottoms. There was also the bag with toiletries that Negan always brought when he traveled and a book about ship engineering. 'All the best wishes and a very speedy recovery - love Olivia' stood on a slip of paper and Daryl stared at it with teary eyes, wishing Negan could see it and had any use for the things in the bag.

----

In the next morning, Shane and Rick brought Daryl to the cafeteria on the second floor and put a whole tray of food in front of him. He didn't eat any of it, but drank a glass of almond milk before he found his way back to room B-3.16, all alone because he was a great tracker. When he opened the door, his bed was moved out of the way and a male nurse with curly black hair had lifted Negan's blanket and thin hospital gown, washing his bare thighs.

"Please wait outside until I'm-"

He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence and the washcloth fell with a splat onto the grey linoleum floor when he was shoved out of the way with a furious grunt. Daryl pulled the thin shirt back down, covering all the scrapes and large bruises on Negan's bare stomach with shaking fingers.

"Daryl, he's just doing his job." Shane came up behind him and was pushed out of the way as well.

"No!" Daryl's voice cracked in a weird screeching tone. "He didn't give consent!" He sniffed his nose and wiped his eyes with his sleeve, pulling the blanket back up because Negan was so cold.

Shane gestured to the nurse, silently asking him to leave the room. He ruffled Daryl's hair and put two bananas on the nightstand before he left as well.

----

In the afternoon came a social worker, telling the grim-looking young man crouching on the floor that it would be better to cry and speak about his fears.

The woman left after thirty minutes, after having received not a single reaction.

----

Just one hour later, a priest arrived, asking for permission to give the patient the Blessing of the Sick. He was kept from entering Negan's room by a very furious Mister Grimes who held the old man a lecture about the failed responsibility of the Catholic church to acknowledge gay people as healthy, equal human beings created by God, before he asked him to take his idiotic blessing and stick it right where the sun never shines.

----

In the late evening, Daryl stroked Negan's fingers rapidly, completely distraught, staring at his bruised face for any sign of pain or discomfort after a doctor had tortured him with a huge needle and had forced his swollen eyes open with two fingers to shine a small bright light right above them.

Twenty minutes later, Daryl sniffed his nose and sent a message to Paul.

'Pleas can you come'

But even after three hours there wasn't any answer and he wheeled the spare bed as close as possible next to Negan and curled up on his side to rest with his owner, holding his hand until morning, hoping he wasn't scared.

----

On the second day after the accident with no improvement and overcome by Negan's vulnerability, Daryl didn't want to see or speak to anyone, feeling more scared and hopeless by the minute, watching the horrible machines doing their job to keep everything good and right in his life alive. He spent hours staring at Negan's face, looking worse than ever after all the bruises had changed their color in even more dramatic shades.

And when he couldn't stand the sight anymore, he closed his eyes, his nose pressed against the skin of Negan's cool hand, repeating their last conversation over and over in his head.

'Are you my good boy? - Yes, you are. See you in thirty min-'

The small unfinished word choked him and stabbed like a knife right into his heart. Just like the possibility that this simple conversation on the phone could have been the last words he had ever heard him say. Maybe it had been the last seconds of Negan's real life.

He sniffed and felt tears spill down his nose, he tasted them on Negan's hand and soundlessly sobbed when he kissed it all with trembling lips, knowing for sure that he wouldn't want to stay if his owner left forever.

----

On the third morning, the right side of Negan's face, right underneath his eye looked different. Better somehow, as if it had it's old color back. Daryl looked expectantly at the nurse that came in, but she didn't comment on it, instead she started to fumble with the wires and monitors.

Daryl raised his shoulder to rub his ear against, watching her nervously. "What happens."

"He gets a portable ventilator." She said, putting the pair of sunglasses away from her patient's bed. "He needs a CT scan."

Daryl sniffed his nose, hating how she moved Negan's limp arm carelessly like a ragdoll. "'s it hurtin'."

"He doesn't feel anything."

The words made Daryl angry. The buzz cut guy had told him otherwise. Negan could feel and hear like the little sister in the coma. He stepped next to the stupid nurse and took the black shades, mumbling ''he needs them.' even though she didn't listen or care. And he followed the bed through all the corridors, inside an elevator and out again, because he was a good boy and he wouldn't allow anyone to hurt Negan. Rick followed as well, together with Shane, who held a conversation with a doctor in white coat, asking him seven different questions and one of them even twice because he wasn't satisfied with the first answer.

Daryl sat on the edge of his seat between Rick and Shane until the scan was over, because he didn't get permission to enter the room. It took almost two hours and even though Shane explained why it took so long, Daryl's stomach hurt so badly that he thought he would burst or vomit right there on the floor.

The two people wheeling Negan's bed back out again on the corridor, bumped briefly into the doorframe, making the frail body they were transporting move from left to right on the flat pillow.

Daryl gasped, jumping to his feet and walked all the way back with his thigh against the mattress, a safe hand on cold fingers.  

----

In the afternoon, a doctor with clipboard entered the room. He hardly glanced up, but spoke anyway to the young man keeping a faithful watch next to his partner's bed. He started to explain a lot of things that Daryl didn't understand and in the end offered a short handshake, leaving as fast as he had entered the room.

'swelling has decreased' were the only words Daryl could make sense of and he clung to them just like to Negan's fingers. "'t was the doctor." He nudged his nose against a cool wrist. "'n I'm here." He wanted to say 'Paul, too' but then he felt bad for almost telling a lie.

----

"Modern ships are... large and con-... complex and unlike other fforns? other forms of transport-" In the evening of the third day, Daryl looked up from the heavy book he balanced on his lap while kneeling on the floor in front of Negan's bed, one hand up on the thin sheet to stay in contact with the man's limp fingers, when the door swung open and a brigade of hospital staff entered, immediately asking him to wait outside on the corridor.

Daryl got up, hugging his book close to his chest as he glanced at the monitors. None of them had given alarm.

"Please wait outside." A person outfitted in green clothing from head to toe put the sunglasses into his hands and shoved him towards the door. "Thank you."

Every form of protest was instantly impeded by a muscular man with short hair who wrapped his arms tightly around Negan's raging sub, speaking calmly next to a pale ear. "They'll do some tests. It is normal that you have to wait outside." He pulled his arms a bit tighter, not much affected by the fist hitting his hip somewhere, and then leaned down a bit when something was spoken into the fabric of his shirt, in hoarse desperate voice. "What do you mean?"

Daryl raised his head and his left hand, holding the pair of black Ray-Bans up. "He needs his shades!"

The look of hysteria and pure despondency in watery blue eyes hit way harder than the man's fist and let Shane loosen his grip a little. He lowered his chin onto longish hair, sniffing his nose. "I know, boy."

----

It took a small eternity until the door opened again, and when it did, Daryl's first thought was that Negan was dead because the person in bed looked so very different suddenly, just like the whole set up in his room.

But on the second glance and with an encouraging hand firmly placed on his shoulder, he understood what had happened. The ventilator had been removed, the wide plastic tube that had parted Negan's lips wasn't there anymore. It was replaced by a very thin, translucent oxygen tube, running across his face, right underneath his nose. There wasn't any tape on his mouth and the loud hissing and pumping was gone.

He crouched back down in his place on the left side of Negan's bed to put the shades back underneath cold fingers, staring at his face, expecting him to open his eyes at any second.

"We will see how he's doing over the next few hours." The doctor patted Shane's shoulder and left, closing the door soundly.

"He's breathing on his own."

Daryl wasn't sure who had said it but he saw Rick in a completely clean shirt, standing on the other side of the bed, his eyes red and shimmering.

----

The first joy about the small improvement faded away with the last daylight and the change of shifts.

The night nurse entered the room every few minutes, not at all happy with the sounds and signals all the machines and monitors gave her.

Daryl had moved his spare bed as far away as the room would allow, scared to death that he could fall asleep and miss the moment when Negan would stop breathing. He didn't kneel either. He stood and stared. Clawing to Negan's limp fingers. Every flicker and beep of the gruesome machines keeping him on the edge. Three times he wanted to call Shane to come. The whole night he wished Paul would be there. But in the end he was alone with Negan, in the scary half dark of the sterile room. And at 3:07 in the early morning, his worst nightmare came true. He could hear it. He could see Negan's throat and chest moving differently just for the split of a second before one of the monitors gave off an ear-splitting alarm. He felt his heart stop as he leaped to the door, out on the bright corridor and tried to make his choked voice work. "Help me!" He looked from left to right and was shoved to the side in the next second by a familiar person. The nurse with the grey hair. He hurried into the room behind her but stayed near the door, his feet unwilling to move closer. He didn't want to see the last breath. He squeezed his eyes shut wishing Negan could hold him and shield him from everything horrible.
But when he looked again, the nurse sat on the edge of the bed and held an additional mask over Negan's mouth and nose, speaking quietly to him. The monitor didn't ring anymore, the lines and numbers were back to normal.

He sniffed his nose and hesitantly moved closer.

The nurse smiled softly at her patient, a hand on his chest. "Good job." With that she got up, pushed two more buttons underneath a screen, squeezed an almost empty IV bag and left the room to get a new one.

When she came back she patted the spot next to Negan's covered hip for Daryl to sit. She took his tense hand and placed it above a steadily beating heart, before she leaned in and spoke close to the young man's ear. "He is strong. He fights to get control back over his body."

----

In the very early morning of the fourth day after the most horrific event in Daryl's life, he woke up in a spare bed that a friendly night nurse had moved as close as possible to the patient's hospital bed.

Dim light fell through the blinds, but even without it Daryl would have seen the very slight movement of a long index finger against the back of his hand. It was just for half a second, barely perceptible, the only change visible and the only sign given for the whole day. But it was real, only for him. For the scared boy from the strong man in control.

Chapter Text

-What if you're making me all that I was meant to be-

Each day was a ghastly repetition of the one before.

Crouching for hours in front of Negan's bed in the dimly lit room, anxiously hoping for a sign, a stir, anything. Reading about ships and their engines to himself more than to the unresponsive person in bed. Crying silent tears whenever the alarm went off. Feeling more lost and lonely than ever.

Countless nurses walking in and out, using the dispensers for rubber gloves and hand sanitizer at the door so often that both had to be refilled by day five.

The uncomfortable chairs in the corridor always taken by the same people, stubbornly waiting in silence for any improvement.

It was as if time stood still. The outside world had no meaning.

Daryl lost count how often he followed the bed and a whole group of nurses through the building towards the X-Ray department. How many times he sat nervously in the cold, empty corridor between Shane and Rick, waiting for the footsteps of the doctor and the news he would deliver from the results of the brain scan, desperately trying to convince himself that the news would be good this time. That somehow a miracle had happened since the last scan and that his tall, beautiful Negan would now be alright again.

But the miracle didn't come.

On the eighth day after the accident, Daryl noticed for the first time that the swelling on Negan's face had gotten significantly better. His features looked almost as they had before, just slightly discolored. And as much as he had wished for the horrible evidence of the car crash to vanish, as much it hurt to see Negan's true self in this bed. Deathly-still and pale. Cheeks sunken in. His usually so neatly trimmed facial hair just a bit too long.  

It made the yearning for deep, comforting words almost unbearable. The wish to see dark eyes, glinting in happiness or pride. The desire to feel rough beard and soft lips on his own face. The fear that it would never be like that again got bigger from day to day, hour to hour, minute to minute.

On the tenth day, after a loud argument and tears of anger and despair, Daryl sat in Shane's car to go back home. For a much-needed shower, fresh clothing and a small break from the hospital. And even though he knew that Rick was sitting right next to Negan's bed, he felt like the biggest asshole in the world for leaving his owner, abandoning him there in this horrible hospital room, sure that if the situation was reversed, Negan would never leave him behind in favor for a silly shower.

Seeing the large, mighty factory building from a distance hurt his belly. Walking through the red door and up a familiar smelling staircase hurt his heart. Entering the most wonderful apartment he had ever seen choked him and made his eyes well up. Crouching down to hug Tiger and bury his runny nose in soft fur was the biggest comfort he had received in more than a week. It was like the dog knew and understood. It was like hugging a silent friend. One of the best friends he ever had.

Olivia didn't ask questions and didn't try to cheer him up, but she hugged him as tight as if she needed just as much solace as the crushed criminal in her arms.

He didn't look at the big, comfortable bed when he made his way towards the bathroom. But he could smell it and the possibility that the right side of the mattress may never be used again briefly crossed his mind, filling his chest with shock and ineffable fear.

His fingers were shaking when he folded his dirty clothing unnecessarily into odd shapes just to place them carefully into the completely empty laundry basket.

Images of wonderful warm bubble baths, happy early morning shaving cream-smiles in the mirror, and gentle kisses on wet hair popped into his head, letting his eyes well up with thick tears, that rolled down his cheeks as soon as much too hot water drummed down on his bare shoulders, the sound of the running shower swallowing all his heavy sobs, offering a bit of privacy behind the foggy glass of the shower stall.

The dark blue shirt he pulled out of the wardrobe hung much too big on his form, the sleeves long enough to reach the second knuckle of his fingers. He didn't mind. He wanted it that way, a constant reminder of the rightful owner.

He went to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of almond milk without any sugar and stared for a long time at the paper sheet and post-it notes at the fridge door. Blue crosses and encouraging reminders written in elegant handwriting.

'You wanna be good for me'  

He touched the words with his fingertips, feeling his throat tighten and chin trembling. He really more than liked his tall angry man more than anything.

"Are you done?" Shane had found all the documents the hospital needed and carried them and a few things he thought could be nice to have in a hospital room in a 168,- dollar duffle bag. "Should I dry your hair?"

Daryl didn't want his hair dried. He wanted to wear the hood of his black winter jacket that still smelled like snow and Christmas tree. He wanted to go back to the hospital. He wanted to kneel next to the bed to be with Negan, because this empty apartment wasn't wonderful at all without the man it belonged to.

----

In the late evening of the tenth day, after a friendly night nurse with short grey hair had changed her patient's bandages, IV bags and feeding tube, Daryl wore a much too large shirt and dinosaur pajama bottoms, lying in a spare bed as close as possible to Negan in the dimly lit room, holding slightly cool fingers in his warm hand, right next to a pair of black Ray-Bans.

"'was home." Even now he felt bad to admit it. "All is good." He sniffed his nose, gently rubbing Negan's thumbnail. "Tiger 's fine." Maybe that wasn't true because Tiger was surely very sad, but he didn't want to say that. He looked at Negan's still face, trying to imagine him on a big black leather sofa or at the dining table with his newspaper and a cup of tea. He couldn't, and had to close his eyes for a moment, not wanting to cry again, not wanting to be such a pansy in front of Negan. He wanted to be good for him. "'took a shower." His voice sounded a bit thin and odd when he said it, but he was proud anyway because he knew Negan would be proud as well.

... and almost an hour later when his eyes had drifted shut, he felt it. A very light movement of a thumb against the side of his hand. He saw it too. It lasted almost two seconds and he didn't dare to blink or move for the next hours, afraid the wonderful feeling on his skin would vanish.

----  

The twelfth day after the accident started well. At least that was what the nurse said when she looked at all the monitors. She left the room and came back with fresh sheets and a male nurse, and Daryl stood for half an hour near the window, watching how Negan was touched and handled by practiced hands, while the sheet and pillow underneath him were changed, before his thin blanket got a new cover. The tall male nurse had a deep voice and called Negan 'buddy' and 'Mister H.', telling him how jealous he was of his beard and chest tattoo, talking to him as casual and friendly as if they were friends and would sit somewhere for a glass of beer. He even put the black sunglasses back on the sheets close to Negan's hand, when he was finished. Daryl liked it.

He also liked the very faint movement of Negan's eyes behind closed lids. It happened in the early afternoon and he didn't look away, scared to miss something, until nurse Sue came in with a new IV bag, announcing that it was teatime for her most handsome patient.  

In the late afternoon, Rick sat on a chair on the right side of the bed while Daryl knelt in perfect posture on the floor, holding Negan's cool fingers as he read a very difficult part out of a book about ocean engineering.

After 5 long sentences, Rick interrupted him. "I think he looks better today. His skin has a bit of color."

Daryl looked up and didn't say anything, but he felt a little bit happy because he thought so, too.

In the evening, Daryl ate two bananas and an apple just for Negan. He told him about it and kissed long fingers, but they stayed limp and unresponsive on the crisp, bleached sheet, no matter how long he stared at them.

Thirty minutes later he sent a message to Jesus, asking him for the 9th time in the past week to please come.

At 11:32 PM, Daryl blinked his tired eyes open, his head having rested against the edge of a firm mattress. His legs were stiff and hurt from kneeling. He shifted on his ankles and glanced up. And his heart almost stopped, an instant smile of relief and irrepressible happiness spreading across his face. Negan looked at him. His head to the side, both eyes open. But in an almost fearful stare that let Daryl's smile falter and freeze after just a second. The brown eyes he loved so much started to flicker and roll from left to right several times. A strange gurgling came from Negan's throat, followed by thick white foam. "No." Daryl got up from the floor, panic flooding his chest when the man's back arched and his wrists cramped into an unnatural posture before his whole body began to jerk and shake, presenting the most horrific scene Daryl had ever witnessed. "Stop!" The screeching alarm of the monitors mixed with screams of fear and terror brought a multitude of people into the room, shoving the shocked young man out of the way.

Daryl made two steps to the right and crouched to the floor, rocking back and forth when several hands pressed his beautiful man into the mattress, people shouted instructions he didn't understand, and a pair of black sunglasses fell to the ground, getting irreparably smashed underneath a green rubber shoe. He wailed, covered his eyes and looked up again a second later, knowing this was the moment when Negan died and left him forever. "No!" He slid a few inches closer and scrambled to his feet, touching the end of Negan's bed and a piece of blanket. He couldn't see much, just blue people hectically fumbling with tubes and IV bags, before he was shoved out of the way again and out of the room. He didn't protest and didn't try to go back in, but he told the wall that Negan was dying and then repeated it in choked voice for the person embracing him in a tight hug. He said it over and over again until he couldn't breathe anymore and he felt like dying himself.

"It's a seizure, they help him." Abraham kept his voice calm and steady, rubbing the man's back with a broad hand. "He didn't die."   

It took a while until the comforting words sunk into Daryl's foggy brain and he looked up, surprised to see Mister Ford.

"He's still here. He didn't die." Abe repeated, smiling as he shook his head at the hopeless expression on the red, snotty face. "He's too good at this shit."

----

At 0:29 AM Daryl was back in room B-3.16, far away from all the beeping monitors and the man lying deathly-still again in his hospital bed, an oxygen mask on his face. His chest was bare now, revealing several electrodes sticking to his skin. Their long wires were attached to a new machine and a blood pressure cuff inflated around his arm automatically every five minutes.

Daryl sat on the floor, holding a pair of destroyed sunglasses, and stared at the frightening scene, his head hurting so badly that he could hardly keep his eyes open. He felt dizzy and numb. He felt angry and made desperate efforts to hold his tears back and keep his limbs from shaking. The image of Negan's wide open eyes and uncontrollably shaking body coming back again and again. He sobbed once and hid his face against his knees, wishing for the 1000th time that the roles could be reversed and he could be in the evil hospital bed. Negan would know what to do. He wouldn't be scared. He wouldn't be a pansy. He would be strong and in charge. He would be safe and alive.

Another shattered sob escaped his throat and he wiped his face with a much too long, dark blue sleeve before he took his phone and tapped the display. There wasn't an answer from Paul. No call, no message. Nothing. He hesitated a moment and then tapped the word Jesus and held the phone to his ear. It ringed 11 times before an almost happy 'Jo!' came from the other end of the line, accompanied by loud, thumping music and a sea of voices. The instant picture of a crowded dancefloor formed in front of Daryl's eyes. He disconnected the call, rage, and confusion mixing with the pounding pain in his head. After three minutes the rage dominated everything else. After 17 minutes he got up and approached the vulnerable man in bed. He wanted to touch him but didn't dare. He wanted to tell him that he was sorry and all would be good again, but the words never left his mouth. He wanted to report how tired he was, how scared and lonely. He wanted to tell Negan that he really couldn't take much more. He wanted to show his signal. He wanted to beg him to stop now and please come back to do his job because Daryl was nothing without Negan. Then he felt so bad and selfish for his thoughts that he squeezed his eyes shut, wishing somebody would beat him up in the worst way possible. Punish him for the rest of his days.

'Are you my good boy? Yes, you are.'

He tried to recall the most wonderful words spoken in the most beautiful voice, desperately repeating them over and over in his head, needing them to be true.

He leaned down and timidly went close to everything he missed so much. Rough beard, soft skin that almost looked flawless again, perfect lips and long dark eyelashes. He went so close that he could smell Negan's familiar scent, still there underneath all the strange sanitizer and laundry bleach. And he brushed the tip of his nose along a sharp cheekbone, ignoring the translucent oxygen mask when he kissed the side of his man's face with trembling lips. "'m good for you, Sir."    

It was a lie, because he was weak and left his partner's bedside at 1 in the morning, crying all the way out of the building, embraced by the cool night air. He kicked a bus stop sign, hit a trash can, and started running after a while, feeling hot and sweaty but strangely enough not out of breath at all when he arrived at the doors of Atlanta's oldest gay leather bar. He didn't know the bouncer standing next to the entry and didn't care what the man told him. He went inside, instantly hit by a cloud of warm air, thick with smoke and the smell of people. The music was loud but the rage in his head was louder when he found a young guy near the bar, long hair unusually unkempt, wearing an old shirt and stained pants underneath his leather duster.

He was so perplexed by the sight that he just stood there and stared for a moment. But when the man turned to him and put a weird, crooked smile on, an almost empty glass of beer fell to the ground, shattering into a sea of wet shards, before Jesus stumbled hard into the edge of the bar counter.

"I was callin' you!" Daryl hit the man's chest again, yelling at the top of his lungs. "He needs us 'n you are here!"

Paul's face contorted in a mixture of guilt and disgust, snorting as he rubbed his sore chest. "He doesn't need us." He turned away, attempting to leave.

"He does!" Daryl grabbed a fist full of well-worn leather. "We have to be good!"

"Shut up." Paul jerked his arm free and vanished into the crowd, heading towards the exit. The door felt heavier than usual when he pulled it open and the fresh night air hit his alcohol-infused mind almost as hard as the furious man coming after him, throwing him onto the wet asphalt.

"You shut up! He needs us! Stop bein' such an asshole!"

Paul stared at his own hands, felt the biting cold street beneath them, while accusations rained down on his hurting back. He listened and gritted his teeth, turned around and got up, facing the sweetest person he had ever known with flaring nostrils and defensively raised finger. "No, you shut up! He doesn't need us! He needs doctors and the fucking machines blowing oxygen into his dead body!" He was shocked by his own words and the pained expression on Daryl's face, but he didn't stop. "There is nothing we can do! Don't you see that we are the ones depending on him? It was never the other way around!" He shook his head, his voice cracking into a more pleading tone as his eyes glazed over with unwanted tears. "He saved my life! He is the reason I am still here! I am nothing without him and I don't want to be, Puppy!" He sniffed his runny nose, making sure to look the other man directly into the eyes. "I was never strong enough to live in this world. He is my strength. I can't sit by his bed and watch him leave."

Daryl chewed his lip, absolutely devastated by the blunt words and total lack of hope. He wiped his eyes, all rage gone, leaving his voice weak. "He won' leave us."

Jesus lowered his head, the reflection of street lights on the wet asphalt getting blurry as a thick tear trickled down his nose. "Yeah, maybe he won't." He looked up again, a sad smile on his lips. "But his brain got injured not his fucking foot. What if they find a way to keep him alive but he won't ever be able to speak again. What if he can't eat or drink or walk. What if he doesn't recognize us anymore? What if he sits in a wheelchair for the rest of his days, depending on others to wipe his ass and the drool off his chin. You want to be around to see that?"

The nightmarish picture painted in front of Daryl's eyes cut like a knife into every corner of his aching heart. None of these horrible things had crossed his mind until now but now that he was aware of their possibility they filled him with sickening terror, the thought alone of his proud, strong man stripped of all dignity and self-determination almost enough to make him vomit. "No." And he shook his head because he never wanted to see any of it, not in his imagination and not in real life. "But we won' leave him." It wasn't an option, no matter what. "We're his boys." His words were just a weak whisper but he raised his head and looked at the crushed person in front of him. "He wants us to be good for him."

Jesus sniffed his nose and tucked a strand of messy hair behind his ear, stepping close to bury his nose into the crook of a collared neck, wrapping his arms around this man who was so much stronger than him. He stood like that for a long time, clinging to the last bit of normality left in his destroyed world. "'can't." Before he pressed a kiss somewhere on the luxurious fabric of a shirt that still smelled faintly like one of his Dads, and left.

----

In the very early morning of day thirteen, before the sun had a chance to rise and the first rays of dim light could poke through the slatted blinds into room B-3.16, Daryl got up from his spare bed and took one of the pens the night nurse had stashed in a disposable kidney-dish made of grey paper pulp. He crouched down on the left side of Negan's bed, kissed cool fingers and drew five black letters onto a pale, bare forearm. D A R Y L, in the crooked handwriting of a third grader. Because no matter what, Negan would always be his king, until the day they would meet their fucking maker.

----

Day 14 was quiet and uneventful. Rick came for a visit at 9 AM with a bunch of flowers that he wasn't allowed to bring into the ICU and he was fussing about it for half an hour before Shane hugged him and kissed his forehead, saying they would find something else to bring the next day.

In the late morning, a person with short auburn hair and big golden hoop earrings knocked at door B-3.16 and spoke in a really low, compassionate voice about suffering traumas and grieving, for almost 45 minutes. Not to the critical care patient, but to the young man lying curled up in the spare bed next to him. She never got an answer or any other reaction until in minute 47 the young man turned around, away from her, to silently face the window. She pursed her lips, squeezed his shoulder and left as quietly as she had entered the room.   

An MRI was scheduled for 2:15 PM and the technician gave Daryl a pair of headphones to wear. They were tight and even with them, the strange knocking sounds the machine produced were horribly loud. Daryl didn't mind. He couldn't see Negan's face or upper body, but he kept a hand on his bare knee the whole time, offering comfort and a bit of warmth until the long scanning process was over, feeling almost useful.

In the later afternoon, when Simon came, giving the unresponsive man in bed a one-sided fist bump, Daryl didn't feel like playing cards or going to the cafeteria for a late lunch or early dinner. He didn't even feel like talking and just crouched silently on the floor, keeping his head lowered and Negan's fingers tightly in his, wishing he wouldn't feel so ill and tired.

A young doctor visited Negan in the evening, stating he wanted to see him before his shift was over. He shone a light into Negan's eyes, palpated his abdomen and went through all the notes the nurses always made in his patient file. In the end, he pressed his lips into a thin line, looking dejected somehow, but managed to give the young man near the window a brief smile anyway before he wished him a good night and left.

The fourteenth night surrounded by beeping machines was for some reason too much for Daryl. The constant fear of loud alarms and Negan leaving him forever tugged at his heart and mind, leaving him feeling weak and small and terribly hopeless. He curled up on his spare bed, holding on to cool fingers and after a while moved even closer, with his head onto the other mattress, crying silently next to Negan's thigh, placing a heavy, limp hand on his hair, pretending it would still offer safety and make everything alright and good again, like magic.

He stayed like this when the night nurse came in to change IV bags and pump the usual medication into her patient, he didn't move when somebody came to check a monitor that gave off a false alarm, he didn't even open his eyes when at almost five in the morning the door opened again and a young man with messy hair and leather duster entered.

But his whole body heaved with a noiseless, convulsive sob of relief when a teary voice said, 'Hello Sir' and somebody climbed behind him onto the spare bed, lying chest to back with an arm tightly wrapped around his waist and a cool nose pressed against the back of his collared neck, to share all the fear and worry, grief and heavy despair like a good boy.

----

Nurse Ethel worked at the Grady Memorial for 21 years, most of them in critical care. She had witnessed a lot of tragedies, happy moments and sad farewells in her time. Some of them so incisive that she wasn't able to shed them off with her blue uniform in the locker room and took them home. Some of them so haunting that they would stick with her for a lifetime.

Patient B-3.16 was one of them. A beautiful man at his peak, healthy and loved by many, hit by cruel fate, snatched from this life in the blink of an eye. He was a fighter, she knew that at first sight. Whether that was enough, she wasn't sure. But for the sake of the young man sitting by his bed with anxious eyes and sad face, she sure hoped so. He was there from day one, twenty-four-seven, like a lost ghost or scared child, looking at all the medical staff with big, pleading eyes, silently begging them for help. He didn't speak much but showered the patient in bed with such an amount of pure, faithful love that her heart ached for him, knowing full well that he might never get back what he was so desperately seeking underneath all the tubes, wires, and bleached sheets.  

Sometimes she saw him wander around the corridors, helpless and totally out of place, trying to find a nurse because he was sure his partner was in pain or scared. Sometimes she entered the room and caught him gently wiping the man's skin with a washcloth as if he was the most precious thing in the whole world. Sometimes she walked by the door and heard him read about boats, ships and ocean liners, in shy, unconfident voice, but determined to do something nice and useful. Most times, however, he crouched next to the bed, among all the monitors and IV drips, silently crying, holding on to a limp, unresponsive hand, holding on to his lifeline.

It was hard and painful to watch. Not only for her, but for all the nurses and more often than not they would speak about the unusual couple, and share their hope for a positive outcome.

But after exactly two weeks, when Ethel started her morning shift and entered room B-3.16 with three new IV bags and a thermometer, something had changed. Her patient still lay lifeless as if he would be in deep sleep, but now he was guarded by two young men, one crouching next to the bed, the other more confidently sitting on the edge of the mattress, speaking to the unconscious man about swimming lessons and Reeses Peanut Butter Cups. Instantly the atmosphere in the room felt lighter and more vibrant as if some of the deep, heavy forlornness was gone and got replaced by new strength.  

The new guy introduced himself as Jesus and respectfully called the man in bed 'Sir', even if his voice always held a cheeky undertone. He walked his shy boyfriend three times a day to the cafeteria, hand in hand, and after not even 48 hours had all the female nurses wrapped around his little finger, oozing his charm out in buckets, so everybody turned a blind eye on the fact that it was against the ICU policy to use a critical care hospital room as a three-men sleepover facility.   

He seemed like a ray of sunshine, cutting effortless through all the dark, hopeless sadness.

But Ethel saw through the facade. She saw the deep fear in blue eyes whenever one of the monitors gave off a shrill alarm. She noticed how the young man always had 'to tinkle' as soon as a doctor entered the room. She didn't believe all the excuses he found so he wouldn't have to accompany his shy boyfriend, the man in bed, and a group of nurses through endless corridors whenever a new test or scan was scheduled. She witnessed him crying more than once in front of the door, into the shirt of a broad, muscular man, looking just as fragile, small and lost as the young man he left behind in room B-3.16 for these moments.      

It poked her motherly heart and she couldn't help but treat her two brave boys with an extra cup of tea or a pudding from the nurse's room at every chance she got, hoping they would stay strong just a little bit longer.

Especially when she quietly visited her patient in the late evening, at the end of her shift on day 19, and found two young men sleeping peacefully in the spare bed next to him, exhausted after another draining day full of anxiousness, waiting and hoping.

The night light above the patient's bed provided enough brightness for her to write down pulse rate and temperature, change a small bandage on the man's shoulder and check on his oxygen and feeding tube. And just when she was done and gently touched his wrist for a 'good night', a warm smile spread across her lips, along with a sense of relief and calmness throughout her whole being. Gratitude, even after twenty-one years in the job. He looked at her. And her trained eye knew it wasn't a coincidental reaction or random fluttering of eyelids. She saw it in his face, the slight tension in his body, the way his breathing changed just a little. He was awake and aware of her presence.

She didn't say anything by voice. There was no need to overwhelm patients like that. But she touched his cheek and kept steady eye contact, signifying that everything was alright and as it should be. It was okay to feel tired, it was okay to sleep some more.

He closed his eyes again after four minutes and 28 seconds, sinking into a calm sleep. Ethel waited a little while longer, made a note in the patient's file with a tiny drawing of a sun behind, as she always did when somebody found the way back, and left the room, thankful and happy for her brave boys, all three of them.

----

At 6:30 in the morning, Daryl jerked awake when a busy nurse left the room, the door falling shut behind her. He smacked his lips, nudged his nose against Paul's sleeping face and turned around, blindly reaching for Negan's hand. Slightly cool, but still broad and big and wonderful. He laced their fingers together and took a deep breath, moved a few inches closer to the tall body next to him, and then froze, blinking through his tousled bangs, when he was greeted by wide awake eyes. Dark eyes, not scared or worried, just awake and aware, staring directly into his. A million thoughts shot through his head. Calling for help, why was there no alarm, waking up Paul, saying hello, kneeling down, apologizing, bringing a glass of Scotch, shouting for the doctor or Shane. None of it mattered anymore when for the first time in twenty days a slightly cool hand squeezed his fingers. He heard himself say a weird half-word that was certainly meant to be a polite 'Hello' but came out as a hoarse, whimpered, "Hhem." as he stared back at the most beautiful face he had ever seen. It was real. No emergency and no dream. Negan was there with him in the hospital room like everyone had promised him for so long, like the patient's file read and the silly plastic wristband around Negan's arm. It wasn't a lie. They were both there and alive. "'brought your shades." It was a quiet statement, choked by a much too tight throat and not even relevant anymore because they were broken by now. But Negan seemed to like it anyway and squeezed his hand again, keeping his eyes firmly on the good boy next to him, for almost twenty minutes before he fell back into a calm sleep, that was nothing more than that. Just sleep.     





 

Chapter Text

"But the leather forum said his funeral was on Sunday!" The weeping fanboy in front of Mister Grimes' counter wiped his eyes with an already damp paper tissue. "I just need to know what's going on! Please! If it's not true then why are all his demos canceled and his appearance at M.A.L!"

Rick sighed. Young Leon was the 23rd guy since the early morning who demanded answers to the ongoing absence of his idol and all the rumors spreading like a wildfire through the world wide web. They had done their best to keep Negan's accident and condition as private as possible, but after three weeks of no Negan-sighting at the store or new posts on social media, people just knew that something wasn't right and he ran out of excuses.

Luckily, Simon did not. "Aaah, the internet can be a dangerous place for young people these days!" He wrapped a firm arm around the unconsolable customer. "Don't believe everything you hear, ha?" He patted his shoulder, then squeezed it once on the way to the door. "Kinkacademy! Pornhub! That's where you find high-quality entertainment." He held the door open for sniffling Leon, "Or here, read a good book!" pulling a well-used copy of 'Master/slave Relations: Handbook of Theory and Practice' out of the back pocket of his pants. "You can keep it!" He waved after his customer with a bright smile and let the door fall shut behind him.

"They won't stop." Rick busied himself by counting the change unnecessarily for the fifth time in a row. "We should make an announcement on the website. It's time."

The wide smile on Simon's face dimmed into a faint, compassionate one as he turned around and approached the counter. "No." He reached out and shut the cash register. "Take the rest of the day off. I'll deal with them."

Rick meant to decline. He wasn't really tired and being at the store was better than sitting at home, brooding. But when his gaze fell to the side and he saw a new group of young people gather in front of the shop window, two of them sniffling, tissues in hand, he just nodded and handed Simon the keys and a pencil that he'd been carrying behind his ear, and left through the back door.

----   

After the 19th message from a stranger asking about the whereabouts of Mister international Leather, Paul switched his phone off and slid it into the back pocket of his pants, sighing. He squatted down next to the young man kneeling in front of Negan's bed and brushed a strand of hair behind a pale ear. "I'm getting us something to eat. Pizza?"

Daryl didn't take his eyes off Negan's still features, just shook his head once.

"I'll find something." Paul got up, tickled the bare toes peeking out beneath a crisp hospital sheet and left the room.

Daryl heard the door fall shut and squeezed cool fingers, sniffing his nose. "He's not gettin' pizza." He didn't get a reaction but he leaned in and placed a kiss on limp knuckles anyway.

When the door opened again after seven minutes it wasn't Paul, but a nurse in blue clothing. She checked on some monitors, wrote a few numbers down and just turned to leave again when Daryl found his voice and the courage to ask a question that pained him since several anxious hours.

"Why 's he still asleep." It was almost 2 in the afternoon and he started to think that maybe he had just dreamed the events in the early morning when Negan had opened his eyes and looked at him.

"You will have to speak to the doctor about it." It was all she said before she left, throwing a pair of used rubber gloves into the trash next to the door.

The dismissal hit Daryl's stomach, spreading embarrassment and shame for asking silly questions. He dropped his head, grimacing. Glad that Negan hadn't witnessed how much of a failure he was.

----

Instead of pizza that one of his Dads would have never approved of, Jesus brought a big container of fruit salad without added sugar and fed it to Daryl who sat curled up next to him on the spare bed, staring at his phone display.

"This is your backpack." Paul licked a bit of melon off his finger and pointed at the screen. "It's where you store the items you pick up on your journey." He tapped an icon, nuzzling Daryl's ear. "And that's my Pokédex." He swiped his finger from right to left. "Zubat, Golduck, Nidorino, Weedle." He chuckled, stopping at a creature, looking like a crab. "That's Crabby. It's funny because I found him when two of my Dads took me to that new fish restaurant. He was on the table of a rude lady who didn't want me to throw my ball."

Daryl wasn't sure if he understood anything Paul was talking about but he didn't want to come across as stupid and played along. "Why."

"Pff, I don't know." Jesus swiped his finger again to show his complete collection of Pokemon. "I guess she wanted to keep him or maybe she doesn't support the honorable P-sport. Either way-" He arched his brows with a look of incomprehension. "It wasn't necessary to call for the manager. I mean I didn't tip her glass over on purpose." He rubbed his cheek innocently against Daryl's. "It was an accident."

"Hm." Daryl returned the gesture, liking how rough Paul's beard felt against his face.

"Here. Have to tinkle." Paul handed the phone over, placed a kiss somewhere on tousled hair and got up. "Check out my Bellsprout in the meantime. Found it in the garden next to Rick's elder bush."

"Okay." Daryl sniffed his nose as he watched Paul leave, then stared for half a minute at the weird plant with eyes and root-feet on the man's phone and finally slid it underneath the pillow because the display went black. He hoped it wasn't broken.

"Boy."

In a sea of a million voices he would have recognized the dark timbre that was so denoting for his owner, even if it turned out a bit weak and hoarse after 22 days of silence. Hearing it here so unexpected in the isolation of the quiet hospital room made his heart stumble and time freeze for a moment. He turned around and blindly grabbed for a big hand that was still cool but not limp at all. "Hello." The word came out all on its own, sounding desperate and terrified at the same time, as small and meek as he felt. He moved onto his knees without even noticing, not letting go of comforting fingers.

"Can you get Simon for me."

Daryl didn't know what to do with the request, feeling so overwhelmed that he wanted to hide. But he nodded anyway and bent down to press his lips to the back of Negan's hand. Four times, feeling tears trickle down the side of his nose before he remembered rule number one. "Yes, Sir." He nodded again, his voice sounding croaky and horrible.

"And water."

"Yes." He climbed off the spare bed, holding on to Negan's hand. He didn't want to leave the room, look away or even blink, afraid all would be over and the wonderful brown eyes would be closed again. But Negan was thirsty and wanted to see Simon, "Okay." so he nodded a third time and wiped his damp eyes with the back of his wrist when he hesitantly left the room. As soon as he was outside in the corridor he grew frantic, not sure where to go or what to say.

Shane wasn't on his seat, only the magazine about racing cars he had been reading all morning. Abraham wasn't there either. Just Eugene, standing in dark trenchcoat next to the door, stubbornly guarding room B-3.16 and the very important person occupying it.   

Daryl looked from left to right and then up at Eugene, gesturing to his eyes. "He's awake." It was all he said before he turned around and confusedly jogged off in search of water and the mustache man. He didn't find Simon and he needed so long to find a fresh, empty cup and fill it at the water cooler, that he was sure Negan would be asleep again by the time he arrived back at his room.

But he wasn't. He pushed the door open and his whole world changed in the split of a second. To brighter, lighter and so much better. Noisy again and full of color and movement. The head of Negan's bed was raised into an almost sitting position, a nurse was there, measuring her patient's pulse, Jesus held one of his Dads hands and Negan was still wide awake, looking exhausted somehow but so very much alive that Daryl's heart ached. "Hello." He didn't know why he said it again or why his voice still sounded so ugly, but he went closer to the bed, holding the white plastic cup out with slightly shaking fingers. "'s your drink, Sir." He dropped his gaze the second the words left his mouth, feeling his chin tremble and the muscles of his face tense along with his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, sobbing once.

And Paul felt the exact same way when two fingers of a big hand, laying on a white hospital sheet, signaled for him in a very subtle way to go and take care of his subbie-brother. He obeyed instantly, handed the water cup to the nurse with the sympathetic smile and wrapped his arms painfully tight around Daryl's body, seeking just as much comfort as he was supposed to give. He buried his nose into the crook of a warm neck when Daryl sobbed again and he smiled. His lips, his eyes, his heart, all of him. Because he had been such an idiot. Because he had doubted Negan. The only constant in his life. The only one who would never fail or leave him.

----

Three doctors came to see Negan before it was time for dinner. Even the chief physician who wore very fine clothing underneath his white coat. They made tests, drew more blood, asked questions, poked and prodded.

Daryl hated them all and watched with hawks eyes, refusing to leave his place at Negan's left bedside. He held his breath when Negan drank the first few sips of water after 22 days, supervised by a nurse. He glared at a person with stethoscope who touched a beautiful bare chest without asking first. He got nervous when brown eyes fluttered shut in between, scared that they wouldn't open again.

Negan didn't say much. A 'yes' or 'no' here and there. Once he asked Paul for the water cup. Once for the head of the bed to be lowered. Once he gave Daryl a small smile when he saw the 5 black letters written on his arm.

But most times he just lifted a finger or gave a faint nod to communicate. He looked tired and as if he was really uncomfortable. He looked as if he was in pain. It wasn't anything Daryl was used to. The only times he had witnessed his owner in discomfort was when he was sent to get the headache pills out of the medicine cabinet. But even then Negan took them with a smirk and just went on with his daily schedule.

Daryl didn't like it. This new distressed Negan made him uneasy. It scared him. It made him feel useless.

At almost six in the evening, Simon arrived with a big smile on his face and an even bigger bag of fried chicken underneath his arm. He handed it to Jesus. "Bronzed crust, crackly, juicy and just salty enough." He kissed the tips of his fingers with a loud smack. "It's delicious! Take the pup outside and relish this trouper!"

"'m not leavin'." Daryl tightened his hold on Negan's wrist, stubbornly straightening his posture.

"Ah, come on, Macy soaked this bird in her secret brine for 12 hours!" Simon put a hand on Daryl's shoulder, moving him towards the door. "And she is a wizard at the fryer!"

"'m not leavin'!" Daryl jerked his arm free and made a defensive step back as he faced the tall man with mustache whose expression changed immediately into a more serious one.  

"Daryl."

Negan's tone wasn't loud and as if the one spoken word had been enough to wear his voice out for the moment, he gestured tiredly with two fingers for his sub to come closer.

Daryl did in a heartbeat. He wanted to kneel down but then didn't and just held Negan's hand. "'m not hungry." He really wasn't.

 "I need to speak to Simon. You go home with Paul and eat."

Daryl dropped his head, shaking it. "'can take care of you." He fumbled with Negan's fingers. "'m not hungry."

"You go home and eat." Negan pulled his hand back. "Come back in the morning."

Daryl looked up in shock, every word he heard sounded like a nightmare. Distant and reserved. He pointed vaguely to the spare bed behind him, feeling his eyes well up. "'can sleep here." The urge to beg and apologize got overwhelming, but Paul came to gently tug his arm.  

"Let's go home, he is tired."

Daryl wanted to say that he would be very quiet and how sorry he was for raising his voice at Simon. He wanted to say that he would eat all of the silly chicken if he was only allowed to stay at the hospital. But then Negan closed his eyes with a tantalized expression and something that sounded like a sigh or slight grunt, and it cut off all the words churning through his head, leaving him with just one obvious fact. Negan didn't feel well and he didn't want him here.

"Come." Jesus tugged Daryl's arm, his voice quiet. "Let's go."

Every fiber of Daryl's being protested but he gave a weak nod anyway and bent down, pressing something similar to a kiss onto the white sheet where Negan's fingers had been before they retreated. He meant to say 'good night' and that he would come back in the morning. He wanted to say three little words that he had never told anyone before. But none of it made it out of his mouth. Instead, he squeezed his eyes shut when a slightly cool hand touched the back of his head. Broad and heavy. All on its own.

"Nine AM. You wanna bring me a nice book."

----

On the entire bus ride home, Daryl stared out of the window, watching a very blurry Atlanta through teary eyes. Faceless people and horrible cars everywhere. He heard Paul talking about a movie he wanted to see and Shane's new passion for weight training. He noticed how the lady sitting across from him smelled like cheap perfume and cats. But the only thing he could think about was the man he had just left behind. Because he was sent off like a burden too heavy to bear on top of physical pain, feeding tubes and bandages. He wasn't a comfort and wasn't a good helper. And maybe he had never been through all the horrible 22 days. Maybe Negan would have sent him off earlier, given the chance.

"It must be so scary." Paul laced his fingers together with Daryl's, leaning his head on the man's shoulder. "Imagine waking up in a hospital and you realize what happened. And then he sees us and he knows we have been alone all the time and not even now he can do his job because he probably feels like crap and has to stay in bed." He rubbed one of Daryl's fingernails with his thumb. "You know, he looked so calm. But I bet he freaked out." The corners of his mouth lifted into a small lopsided smile that didn't look happy at all. "Daddy's worst nightmare. Not being in control. Not being there to handle the business." He sniffed his nose, squeezing Daryl's hand. "Not being able to keep the puppy safe and happy."

Each word cut into Daryl's heart and the blurry world on the other side of the bus window got even more indistinct. "Hm." But he squeezed Paul's hand back, pressing his lips tightly together to keep them from trembling.

Jesus sniffed his nose again, clearing his throat. "But we will just give him some space and behave really well and soon he will be back home, barking orders and dishing out punishments." He tried for a chuckle that didn't sound very convincing.

"Th." Daryl huffed a laugh, raising his upper arm to wipe his wet eyes with it. He really hoped that was true.

----

There was an awkward silence during dinner, even though Olivia tried to lighten the mood with a big bowl of her homemade, sugar-free date pudding. Sitting at the big table, seeing Tiger obediently waiting on his grey pillow, and the most important chair at the head of the table unclaimed let Daryl's appetite shrivel and die to a numb feeling of nausea while he was nibbling on his first piece of chicken. It felt wrong to be there, it felt pointless to use a red cloth to wipe his mouth, it felt weird that Paul didn't even try to eat the dessert before the main course and instead sat in correct posture on his chair, using fork and knife.

After dinner, they took a shower together, painstakingly ensuring that the expensive tiled floor wasn't flooded and all clothing landed inside the laundry basket and nowhere else.

Both ignored the big, wonderful main piece of furniture in the bedroom as they dressed in sleepwear that belonged to a man far taller in height and broader in build. And after a moment of exchanging silent looks, they decided that they couldn't sleep in this bed. Not without invitation and with their owner absent.   

They went downstairs, with tensing stomachs through an abandoned club area, past an office that was locked and a playroom that nobody wanted to think about, to Paul's room. It was a bit messy but didn't look at all like Negan. Not the colors, not the posters on the wall, not the skateboard or Nine-Inch-Nails backpack, scattered on the floor.
Daryl liked it. The bed was comfy and smelled like Jesus, and when after a while a rough beard tickled the back of his neck and his shoulder was playfully bit, he opened his eyes and turned around to bury his nose into a soft Hugo Boss pajama shirt.

"We should celebrate." Paul kissed the top of Daryl's head, then rested his chin on it. "I mean he woke up. He will come back home."

A brief image of balloons and cake popped into Daryl's mind. He wrapped a bit of shirt around his finger. "A party?"

"Oh, you know..." Paul stretched himself with a sigh then pulled his arm tighter around Daryl. "Just the two of us. We could sit on the roof and drink a Scotch in Daddy's honor." He chuckled. "Then we could fuck in his honor and play with the bullwh-" He laughed when his chest was punched. "Or we could drink a sugar-free lemonade in his honor at the bar."

Daryl thought about it for a moment, unwrapping the fabric from his finger. "Okay."

"Sweet." Jesus rolled them both over, pressing Daryl into the mattress, "And maybe a tiny blowjob." before he was boxed again and shoved off with a gruff 'Shut up'.

----

Day 23 started early after three hours at the bar in the empty club area of the Leather Factory, with six bottles of lemonade, one shared beer and a lot of music that Paul had to show Daryl because almost every song ever written was his favorite.

At seven o'clock, Daryl had brushed his teeth, dressed, packed two books about dinosaurs and one really thick black one with the bold, red title LEATHERFOLK, that looked like something Negan would enjoy. He wasn't sure how long they would need for the ride to the hospital, but he insisted to take the bus at 7:26, just in case they got stuck in traffic.

Ethel in the nurse's room put her coffee cup down and forgot what she wanted to add to her night report when two young men in black 'Leather Factory' hoodies walked hand in hand down the corridor of her ward at 8:12 in the morning and then waited obediently in front of door B-3.16 because it wasn't 9 o'clock yet and they weren't allowed to enter before that.

Daryl was nervous and played with one of Paul's fingers while he tried really hard to hear anything and make out whether Negan was awake already or not. Twice a nurse went in, once a doctor. At exact 9 AM, he tugged Paul's sleeve and got up, all of the three books in hand as he opened the door. First his heart skipped a beat, seeing the familiar person in bed, then it sank just a bit because Negan had his head turned towards the window, probably asleep.

Jesus held a finger in front of his lips and silently closed the door, then put his backpack on a chair and slid the hood of his sweater down.

Daryl went quietly around the bed and knelt down on the floor, the books on his lap. He reached out to touch the still hand laying on white sheets. But it wasn't cool, and the second he realized that a thumb stroked one of his fingers, a deep voice spoke to him.

"What do you wanna say."

His head shot up. Negan's eyes were closed, but a very slight smirk quirked his lips. It made his heart flutter in pure happiness, even though Jesus beat him with an answer.

"Good morning, Daddy." Paul put a hand on Daryl's head as he bent over him to place a feather light kiss on one of his Dads cheek. "How do you feel?"

"Like a car crashed into my fuckin' head." Negan opened his eyes, looking as tired as he sounded, but softened his blunt statement instantly by cupping Daryl's cheek. "Who told you to look so pretty."

Daryl parted his lips to answer but had no idea what to say and just huffed a breath, holding one of the books up.     

"Did you pick a nice one for me?"

"Hm." He nodded. Three. About leather and dinosaurs.

Negan pinched his sub's chin. "Up on your puppy bed. You wanna read to me."

"I'm in." Paul had his shoes off in under ten seconds and wheeled the spare bed closer before Daryl had a chance to pick up all his books. "And I'll start." He flopped down on the bed, crossing his ankles as he fished the book about the LEATHERFOLK out of Daryl's hands because it sounded much more interesting than old bones and teeth found in the dirt. "Sooo..." He opened the book and flipped past the boring prelude. "Gay male leather culture has existed since the late 1940s when it grew out of the post-WWII biker culture. Early gay leather bars were subcultural versions of motorcycle clubs like the Warlocks and the California Motor Club."

Daryl needed a moment to untie his shoelaces and looked up from Jesus to Negan, his interest aroused by the word 'motorcycle'. He placed his shoes carefully underneath the spare bed and climbed on the mattress, instantly reaching for Negan's hand.

"However, in recent decades the leather community has been considered more a subset of BDSM culture rather than a descendant of gay culture." Jesus put his arm around Daryl's shoulders and snuggled up to his side, holding the book with just one hand. "Even though one of the most recognized leather events, known as the annual International Mister Leather conference, is overwhelmingly represented by gay males and its current title holder is considered one of the most iconic, influencing figures of the worldwide leather community in the 21st century." He paused, looking over at the tall man in the next bed who had his eyes closed again. "Hey look, Sir! They mention you!"

"Good for them." Negan didn't open his eyes but patted Daryl's fingers, feeling his sub's immediate excitement. "I'm fucking awesome." He didn't have to look to know that both men in the bed next to him were smiling in agreement. "Go on, find my picture." The thirty seconds of silence that followed felt like a comforting blanket soothing the pulsing pain in his head before he opened his eyes because a book was held in front of his face by boy number two who climbed over Daryl to present his amazing discovery. A double page of black and white photos, showing a leather-clad Negan at the age of 31 and again in the year 2015, along with several pictures of the leather factory and certain events. 

"You look so young, Sir!"

Paul's hair and fingers covered most of the illustrations but Negan had seen enough and closed his eyes again, taking a deep breath. "Are you saying I'm old."

Daryl shook his head immediately even though he had been quiet the whole time. "No."

"Of course not, Sir." Paul moved back onto his place, crossing his ankles. "You aged like fine wine." He chuckled when Daryl slapped his chest because he didn't understand the comparison.

"Mhm." Negan tried to fight the heavy tiredness crawling back into his drowsy brain, but the soft pillow underneath his head felt like it would suck him right into cloudland. "Keep reading." He took another deep breath and laced his fingers tighter together with a familiar, gentle hand, hearing Jesus read something about a motorcycle trip to the Upper Chattahoochee River Campground, that was totally made up and then again not because even though it wasn't in the book, it had happened as part of their history. He fell back to sleep, the picture of him and his boys hiking through the woods of Georgia wafting through his head.

----

Daryl tried not to worry in the afternoon, lying almost all the way on Negan's mattress by now. Jesus slept to his right on the spare bed, an open book on his chest. Negan slept to his left, since almost five hours. Not even the attendance of six different nurses and two doctors that had entered the room since the morning had been able to wake him up. It made him nervous and uneasy. He looked from one of the monitors that was still firmly placed at the head of Negan's bed to the opposite wall, watching the long shadows the afternoon sun projected through the slotted blinds at the window. It was probably a nice day outside. With birds and fresh air and the sound of motorcycles on the streets. He wished they could all be there now. To walk to the movie theatre or a Chinese restaurant. Or maybe they could sit on the roof of the factory where one could see the whole city.

"How's Merle."

Daryl turned his head, his stomach clenching in surprise and immediate excitement to hear a deep, low voice. Then a butterfly poked into his guts when he saw wonderful brown eyes looking at him, wide awake.

"Did you visit him?"

Daryl shook his head and turned to lie on his side, holding with both hands on to Negan's fingers. "No."

Negan pursed his lips, studying his sub's face. "Call him. You don't want him to worry."

"Okay." The thought of calling anywhere without help made Daryl feel nauseous, but he would have never dared to contradict anything coming from Negan. Not here in this room. Probably not ever again.

"Are you my brave boy?"

Daryl wanted to nod and say Yes.  But then he remembered all his pansy crying and useless kneeling, not taking care of anything. Not Tiger or the apartment or himself. He really wasn't brave and shook his head, then dropped it, nudging his nose against the back of a big hand.

"No?" Negan wiggled his fingers, feeling tears dampening his skin. "Are you my scared boy?" Lips parted slightly against his knuckles and he heard a small sob. He didn't comment on it. He didn't insist on a spoken answer, either. He just pulled the sheet out from underneath his hand and lifted it, giving his sub the opportunity to hide for the first time in 23 days.

Next to Negan's bare thigh, in a mix of sterile hospital scent and warm skin, covered by the thin blanket and a safe hand on top, resting on his head, Daryl cried silently but didn't feel like a pansy. Not useless and not alone at all. It was him and his King, who hadn't lost his invisible sword or crown in a destroyed shiny Tahoe, not even his magic touch. Just a few days of his life.

Chapter Text

On day 24, Jesus had to help out at the store because Mister Rhee the intern needed to see the eye doctor. Daryl went on a walk with Tiger and took the bus at 8:27 AM, feeling positive and excited to spend the day with Negan. He thought of all the things they could talk about and smiled at the bus window when he imagined his owner sitting in bed, proud and confident, telling the nurse to scamper off and bring some of the really good medicine without any sugar or fat.

It was a nice day. He wrinkled his nose as he tipped his head back and glanced at the bright blue sky before he entered the big hospital building. A man went through the lobby with a ballon that said 'Get well soon'. He looked after him, wondering if Negan would like one, too.

He went into the elevator, pushed the right button and nodded shyly when a nurse wished him a good morning as if he was someone important.

The hallway smelled like a mixture of coffee and disinfectants and he rang the bell so the door to ward B-3 was opened. He even squeezed some of the sanitizer on his hands that was offered all along the wall in countless dispensers, because he knew Negan hated germs.

He reached for door number 16 and glanced up because it was already wide open. He froze on the spot.

Negan sat on the edge of the bed in his tie-back hospital gown, two nurses left and right trying to help him up, his face pale and contorted in visible pain. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, his bare legs seeming weirdly thin. They were trembling and when he tried to put his full weight on them, he grabbed for the supporting hand of the nurse, almost as if he would be afraid to fall.

A wave of terror rolled through Daryl's chest, right before the door was shut in front of his nose and somebody asked him to wait outside. He blinked and walked towards the water cooler even though he wasn't thirsty.

"A new Johns Hopkins research suggests that a several-week-long stay in an intensive care unit causes substantial physical impairments and a 3 percent to 11 percent increase in muscle strength per day." A stout man in dark blue trench coat said, holding a half-peeled banana in hand. "Physiotherapy can help to reduce long-term damage and to get back faster to a fit state."

Daryl flicked his head to the side to get some hair out of his eyes, looking up at Eugene. "He'll be fine." He didn't know why he said it, but it sounded determined and Mister Porter seemed to agree, because he nodded once and then took a bite of his banana, trotting off to reclaim his place next to Negan's door.   

----

Day 25 started badly. Paul had forgotten to set the alarm and Olivia waited for people to come and repair the tumble dryer, so all of Daryl's good pants were still wet. He put an old one on that had several holes and a motor oil stain on the left side. His hair looked like a mess no matter how often Jesus tried to smooth it down and just when he was on the way to the bus, Rick hollered for him to come back and help with a big delivery for the store. It took them almost forty minutes to carry all the boxes inside and when he was finally allowed to leave, through the store's back door this time, several people were busy unloading a smashed car off a big yellow tow truck.

Daryl didn't recognize it at first and just wondered why Simon gave the strangers instructions to unload trash on Negan's property. But on the second glance, he noticed familiar details. The brown tree-shaped air freshener that Paul had bought for one of his Dads, that smelled like leather. The readily packed swim bag with the APEX logo. The red, old blanket that Negan kept in the backseat for Tiger.

He wrapped an arm around his chest and made a step forward, then a big one back, his eyes fixed on the remains of the driver's cabin. Broken glass, bent metal, torn leather. The driver's door completely missing, allowing a free view on a crushed seat and steering wheel. Blood and chipped paint, metal splinters, something that looked like a rubber glove. A white one, stained with reddish-brown color, laying crinkled in the demolished legroom of the car. Of the Tahoe. Still black but not at all shiny anymore.

Daryl glanced back over his shoulder, unable to look away when someone came and led him to the front of the building.

"I'll drive you." Shane ruffled tousled hair, making the shell-shocked man wait at the curb. He unlocked his car and helped Daryl into the passenger seat. And they were halfway through town when he cleared his throat and shifted behind the wheel. "I've read the accident report. Do you want to know what happened?"

Daryl glanced at Shane and then immediately turned to stare out of the window. He didn't want to know. He had not wanted to see the Tahoe. But he nodded anyway.

Shane sniffed his nose, rubbing the back of his head when he stopped at red lights. "A woman lost control of her car and crashed into his. He was parking and on the phone. The last number he called was yours." He cleared his throat again, giving Daryl a sideglance. "He was unconscious immediately. There was no chance to get scared. He didn't feel the pain." He leaned a bit forward, unsuccessfully trying to create eye contact. "He heard your voice and fell asleep."

Daryl chewed his bottom lip, blinking his eyes but they welled up anyway.

"I'm sorry you had to see it." Shane sounded sympathetic. He started the car again, tilting his head to the side. "I'm sorry for it all, man. Not fair."

He waited on his chair in the corridor, drinking the 56th cup of lukewarm hospital coffee in the past 25 days, giving moral support to the brave young man entering room  B-3.16 in the late morning.

Even though for the first time in 25 days it wouldn't have been necessary. Because the man in bed didn't look weak or scared, not uncomfortable or like he needed a doctor. He looked as if the entire room was rightfully his own. The bed, the two remaining monitors, the chair and the small table, the tv at the wall and the drip stand. The feeding tube was gone from his nose, just as the tie-back hospital gown. He wore one of his white t-shirts instead and wonderful grey pajama bottoms. His beard was perfectly trimmed, his hair not slicked back, but the white bandage was replaced by a smaller patch covering his right temple.

He had his eyes closed but was in an almost sitting position, his legs stretched out on top of the thin white sheet, his ankles casually crossed.

Daryl sniffed his nose and flicked his head to the side, every butterfly in his stomach noticing the faint smell of Olivia's washing powder and Khiel's body wash in the room.

"Come here. Lie down with me." Negan kept his eyes shut, enjoying the small huff of breath he heard, followed by a hoarse voice.

"The bed is gone." Daryl made a step closer, gesturing to the empty spot where his spare bed had been for more than three weeks now.

"Well fuck." Negan turned his head, squinting with one eye. "Guess I have to invite you to my bed then." He patted the mattress next to his leg, closing his eyes again. "Chop, chop. Shoes off."

Daryl lifted his shoulder to rub his ear against. He really wished he would have bought one of the balloons from the gift shop in the lobby because he more than liked the tall angry man so much. "Hm." He sat down on the floor in an ungraceful motion and unlaced his old boots, then put them neatly next to the IV pole.  

Negan moved a few inches to the right and lifted his arm invitingly, his heart aching a little when his sub's familiar scent and weight melted against his side like a missing piece of a puzzle. He took a deep breath, rubbing Daryl's back. "Good job. Now rest with me."

Daryl tried not to blink. He knew the location of every bruise, wound and scratch on Negan's body and tensed when he was pulled even closer, sure he was causing immense discomfort with all the body contact. He glanced up anxiously to monitor Negan's face for any sign of pain and froze as soon as he witnessed a slight wince. "Are you hurtin'."

"Hm. Hurts like fuck." Negan took another deep breath and put a hand on Daryl's head, moving it to rest on his chest, then placed a brief kiss on tousled hair. "But you're making it better."

----

It was cold and rainy on day 26. And even though the patients of the Grady Memorial Hospital in Atlanta weren't really affected by the unsettled weather, nurse Irmgard in her knitted cardigan felt it was her duty to make sure that all her patients were adequately provided with hot tea and spare blankets, just to spread a bit of cozy comfort on this unpleasant winter's day.

She gave door B-3.16 a polite knock before she opened, and smiled at the scene she was walking in to. The blinds were down and the TV at the wall was on, showing some sitcom. Her patient was resting in bed, his eyes closed, a young man snuggled up to his side, while another one sat cross-legged at the bottom end of the mattress, busy with the game on his phone.

"Hey, Irmgard, what's up?" Paul glanced up with a bright smile. "Are you bringing more cookies to go with the tea?" He wiggled one eyebrow underneath his grey beanie hat, that perfectly matched the color of the 'I'm a Daddy's Boy' shirt that he was wearing.

The nurse pulled a package of gluten-free oat cookies out of her pocket and put it somewhere between the three teacups on the nightstand, raising a secretive finger to her lips. "Ssh." She knew by now that her handsome patient didn't approve of all the treats the nurses tried to feed to Jesus and Daryl. But that didn't mean that she wouldn't try anyway. She smiled, checked the IV bottle and quietly left the room.

"Sweet." Jesus bent in an adventurous backward-sideways position to reach the sweets on the nightstand without having to unknot his legs.

"Don't even fucking think about it." Negan didn't open his eyes but accurately hit the back of his boy's head anyway when he slapped him with three fingers. "I said one is enough."

"Ow." Paul rubbed his head. "I thought you were sleeping."

Negan cracked his eyes open, just enough to support his reproachfully arched eyebrow. "You disobey me while I sleep?"

Every hint of playful banter disappeared immediately from Paul's features. He looked at Negan, shaking his head. "No, Sir." He said it quietly but meant it, and gave up on his cross-legged posture to shift around and lie down between long legs. "I'm sorry."

"Better." Negan closed his eyes and got comfortable again, putting a hand on Paul's hair.   

----

On day 27 in the late afternoon, the automatic doors to ward B-3 swung open and a group of serious looking men entered, all clad in black leather.

"Ma'am."

Nursing student Catherine Schuster made a startled step to the left when a tall, muscular guy with full red beard tipped his leather cap in her direction before the three men in his company politely did the same. She mumbled a perplexed 'Hello' in return and watched with open mouth as they knocked on door 16 and vanished a moment later in the room. It was against the ICU policy for a patient to have more than two visitors at the same time, and even then just close family. But ever since handsome Mister H. had occupied one of the rooms for private patients, the hospital's strict guidelines got a little bend and altered. For a moment she pondered whether she should go after them anyway, but before she could gather up enough courage, the door opened again and a young man came out, wearing a yellow 'Daddy Issues' shirt to his grey knitted beanie. She knew him well. His name was Paul, but he had offered her two weeks ago that she could also call him Jesus or Ninja-cookie, whatever she felt like.

"Oh hey, Cathy!" Paul spotted a nurse in the hallway and approached her immediately. "The executive committee of the Atlanta leather club came for a visit and I was wondering if we could get some of the awesome coffee you make?" He flashed his cutest smile, blinking his eyes at her. "I mean just if it's okay, we don't wanna cause any trouble."

"Oh no, that's alright?" Catherine giggled and tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, blushing a little as she gestured towards the nurse's room. "I was just on the way to make a pot." That wasn't the whole truth because she had been on the way to the locker room, as her shift was over since 17 minutes. But making coffee or baking a cake for Jesus was really no trouble at all. She could just take the next bus.

"Aw, you are awesome!" Paul kissed the girl's cheek, "Thank you, Cathy." and went back to one of his Dads and his visitors, because the Gentlemen of the leather club were always a lot of fun.

----

On day 28, Negan decided to leave his room. He had ordered his sub to bring him a pair of sweatpants and some sneakers, enjoyed the view while boy number two put the latter obediently on his feet, and took a nervous Daryl confidently by the hand to prove that he was actually able to walk, even outside of the safe hospital room.

Daryl sniffed his nose, holding on with ten fingers to Negan's big hand as he followed through the long hospital corridors. They walked slowly, past a small coffee kitchen, a waiting area with scattered magazines on a brown table, a group of doctors with clipboards and stethoscopes, and a nurse pushing a metal food cart that smelled rather strange. But he didn't even notice any of his surroundings. His eyes were fixed on the very beautiful man firmly leading the way. He had forgotten how tall Negan really was.

"Careful, Sir!" Jesus jumped in front of Negan, putting a hand on his chest to stop him, while he held his smartphone out like a tiny weapon, pointing it in the direction of a certain spot in the corridor. "I got it! It's just a Jigglypuff!"  

----

On day 29, Negan arched his brows in a warning as he held a fork with mashed potatoes out. Lacking butter, seasoning, and most of all the right consistency. "Fucking open I said."

Daryl wrinkled his nose, moved back an inch and then hesitantly opened his mouth. He really didn't like Negan's hospital food. It tasted like school lunch just without fat and salt.  

"You don't wanna go home for lunch, you'll have to eat what they serve here." As soon as his sub had swallowed, Negan put three baby carrots on the fork. At least he tried after the hospital kitchen had cooked them for approximately six hours. He sighed when the slightly pale, mushy vegetables fell off the tines back to the other overcooked pulp on the plate.   

"Hey." Rick knocked once as he pushed the door open. "Should I come back later?"

Negan shook his head, flinging the fork onto the beige plastic tray. "No. Come in."

"How are you?" Rick smiled faintly, putting the bag he had brought on the foot of Negan's bed, then placed a kiss on his cheek. "You look good."

"I know." Negan handed the tray to Daryl. "How's the store."

Rick ruffled Daryl's hair when he brought him a chair to sit next to Negan. "It's all good. Glenn is back and the new clothes range goes really well." He fought with the tight pocket of his denim jacket and got two phones out, one of them with a severely cracked screen. "Is it the one you wanted?"

Daryl watched as Negan examined both of them carefully. It made his stomach clench and turn. He knew exactly why the old phone was so horribly broken and unwanted pictures shot through his head, of a destroyed Tahoe, bloody rubber gloves and paramedics trying to save Negan's life on a silly parking lot. And of himself sitting impatiently on the loading dock, greedy for a vacation at the ocean, like some spoiled brat.

"Boy!" Negan snapped his fingers for the third time, then patted the sheet next to him. "Sit." He handed his distraught sub the broken phone. "There are two little cards inside. Get them out and put them in the new one."

"Why." Daryl didn't look up and sounded grumpy because he hated smartphones so much.

Negan didn't lose his casual tone. "Because all your reports and pretty puppy pictures are on them and I want to fucking keep them."

Daryl sniffed his nose and started to pick at the scratched phone case with his thumbnail. "Okay." He hadn't known that Negan was keeping his reports. He sniffed his nose again, shrugging with his eyes down. "'can send you a report tonight."

"You will. And a pic of my other pup."

"Hm." Daryl nodded and moved an inch closer to the commanding man in bed. It took him almost thirty minutes to take the phones apart, find the card slots and put the battery back in. He needed another ten to get the new phone to work. And when it finally did, he leaned  back against the raised head of Negan's bed and curled up underneath a strong arm, as he listened to a deep voice talking to Rick, while the screen of a brand new Samsung Galaxy S9+ came to life and filled with all the familiar things he loved so much. Folders marked with 'Daryl' and 'Paul'. Pictures of hotel rooms in Washington and huge white cruise ships. Information about Tiger. Work schedules for the leather factory. It was all still there, inside a newer, even better casing.

----

Day 30 at the Grady Memorial Hospital was peacefully uneventful, spent quietly in bed in front of the TV, with motorcycle shows and a documentary about service dogs. On the bus ride back home to the most spectacular building on Peachtree Street, Daryl tucked his head in and sniffed the collar of his black hoodie. It still smelled like Negan. It let his stomach tingle. It made him ridiculously happy. And the feeling increased tenfold when his phone beeped and a message brightened the small screen.

NEGAN

❤️

02/02/2018, 7:11 PM  

He smiled, warmth spreading evenly through his chest and wrapped around his thumping heart. It didn't even matter that the young lady sitting opposite from him gave him a very contemptuous glance before she looked back at her glittery iPhone and noisily typed a message with her long, pink plastic nails. No matter what she typed and whoever she talked to... it couldn't be better than the wonderful message he had received. And nobody was better than Negan.

----

On day 31, Simon had offered to take Daryl to the hospital, along with a square brown leather bag that contained an essential piece of Negan's life: His laptop. And as soon as it had made its way into room B-3.16, Daryl was confronted with a very familiar picture. Ten fingers on the keys, brown eyes flying in high concentration over endless texts, a small frown creasing dark brows. It was comforting at first. But after 14 minutes, Negan grimaced, after 21 he massaged his temple, after half an hour he squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't stop though and instead opened a new e-mail, just to answer it a moment later because it was important.

Daryl sniffed his nose on his place on the floor on the left side of the bed where he was kneeling in perfect posture. "'m hungry." It wasn't really true and he mumbled it just quietly, but his busy owner registered it anyway and blindly reached out to cup his cheek.

"It's ten AM." Negan scrolled with one finger, looking through some pictures of product samples. "What did Olivia make for breakfast."

"Hm." Daryl shrugged, nestling into the warm palm. "Oatmeal 'n blueberries."

"Mhm." Negan singled one of the images out and saved it to discuss it with Rick later. "You wanna go and buy an apple downstairs?"

Daryl sniffed his nose for the third time, furrowing his brows when Negan took a deep breath and blinked his tired eyes. "Can I with you." He held on to Negan's wrist with two hands.

Negan cursed something slightly obscene because his internet connection broke down just when he was about to send a message to Simon. He sighed, "May you take a walk with me to the gift shop?" looking at the man next to his bed. "You forgot the way?"

"Hm." Daryl gave a small nod. He didn't really forget the way but he really wanted Negan to stop working. "Yes."

"Hh." The tip of Negan's tongue poked out to wet the corner of his mouth as he gave his sub a suspicious look. He squinted one eye, smirking when Daryl got nervous under the scrutinizing stare and broke eye contact. "Go get my fucking shoes."

----

"Uuuh, who's he?" Jesus lifted his left eyebrow in appreciation when the door of Negan's hospital room opened on day 32 and a very attractive man stepped in, looking an awful lot like somebody he knew.

"Hm." Daryl shrugged, feeling a bit intimidated by the visitor. He looked like Negan. Just not as mighty and beautiful.

"Maybe they are twins," Jesus suggested, whispering into Daryl's ear. "Separated at birth."

Daryl sniffed his nose, seeking comfort near Paul's shoulder as he watched the two men interact.

"Hh." Negan poked the tip of his tongue against his lower lip. "What the fuck are you doin' here."

The visitor arched his brows, bending backward as he gestured in slight annoyance. "Visiting you, obviously? Thought you got hit by a god damn bus."

Negan smirked, sucking his upper eyetooth noisily. "Car. Don't be overdramatic."

"Hff." The visitor waved two fingers at the IV pole and the remaining monitors near the bed. "You're the one putting on a show." He ignored Negan's chuckle and nodded towards the two men standing speechless by the window. "What are dwarf and tousle doing here. Need bodyguards now?"

"Paul, Daryl." Negan leaned back into his pillows with a sigh, holding an arm out in the visitor's direction. "Meet my fuckin' cousin, Lance."

----

On day 33, Daryl had wanted to stay at the hospital. He had asked for his spare bed to be brought back. He had begged for an hour more. He had pretended to be unwell and then missed his 7 PM bus on purpose, blaming it on a crowded elevator when he went back to B-3.16, just to have a little while longer in the company he craved so much.

He didn't miss the 8 PM bus, because a tall man in luxurious Hugo Boss sweatpants and black leather factory hoodie accompanied him personally to the bus stop, a firm hand wrapped around his fingers. He had almost cried when the bus doors closed behind him, and he didn't even know why.

Back at the factory, it got worse. Jesus was at the Eagle to work with a new Go-Go dancer and Olivia had taken Tiger overnight because she wanted to spend some time at home with Joseph. The apartment smelled like furniture polish and a saffron risotto that had been prepared for dinner. Daryl didn't like any of it and didn't even go near the very empty bedroom when he searched for a place to sleep. Instead, he took a heavy leather jacket off the coat rack and went downstairs. After Rick had taken the jacket to the dry cleaners it didn't have blood stains anymore, but it didn't smell like Negan either. Just leather and something Daryl didn't know. He covered himself with it anyway, enjoying the familiar weight and texture as he curled up on a grey couch in a dark basement office, staring at his phone and all the wonderful photos he had saved in there.

At 10:08 PM he tapped the only numbers he knew in the right order. At 10:09 PM the most wonderful voice answered. Deep and smooth, so comforting that his heart ached.

'What do you wanna say.'

He closed his eyes, tucking his head deeper underneath the heavy leather of Negan's jacket. "'miss you." It wasn't what he was supposed to say, he knew that, and he hated hearing his own silly hoarse voice. But what he said was very true.

Negan seemed to like it. 'Good job, telling me the truth.'

Daryl didn't answer, just huffed a breath that came out a bit shaky. He really wished he could get a raisin.

'You think the big fellow found a solution by now to clear the Sanctuary of all the fucking Undead, so Puppy and Paul can play in the yard again?'

Daryl sniffed his nose, the instant picture of a huge factory surrounded by awesome Zombies popping into his head. It was true, that had been the part where the story had ended last time Negan had told him about it. "Hm." And he had a pretty good idea how Eugene could save them all. "Yes."

'Mhm.' Negan closed his eyes, loving the audible curiosity in his sub's voice. 'Tell me what he came up with.'

"Noise." Daryl was sure, pulling his legs up to his chest to fit better underneath the jacket. "He can use music 'n lure them away." Certainly from Paul's vinyl collection.

'Sounds like a good plan.' Negan chuckled quietly. 'Fucking smart puppy.'

A smile of pride spread over Daryl's face. He was really smart. And he listened to a soothing deep voice for almost twenty minutes, telling him about a real drone with attached iPod and Paul's favorite Metallica classic guiding herds of undead people away from the wonderful factory, so everyone could go outside again for a fucking big BBQ with grilled corncobs and chicken. His phone slipped out of his fingers when he fell asleep, on a grey couch, surrounded by the scent of warm leather.

----

On day 34 after the accident, on a rather cold morning in February, a young man sat on one of the Leather Factory's loading docks, waiting impatiently for Rick to arrive and take him to the hospital. He had a surprise for Negan. And just the thought of it made his stomach tingle in excitement. Jesus had helped him to order a brand new pair of Ray Ban's online. The mailman had delivered them in a nice box and Olivia had offered to wrap it like a present with red paper and a bow. But Daryl didn't want that and just held them in hand. He would hide them behind his back once he entered the hospital room.

He sniffed his nose and craned his neck. Rick was late. Thirteen minutes already. And when after the fourteenth minute finally a car pulled up, it wasn't Rick's silver Volvo, but a taxi. After a moment a man got out, flinging the backdoor shut. He wore sweatpants, sneakers and a small white patch on his temple. He ran a hand through his dark hair and shouldered the duffle bag he brought along. Then he walked towards the red door as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Daryl got up, wrapping an arm around his chest.

Negan patted the loose pockets of his sweatpants down, sighing when he realized he had no key. He dropped the bag on the black doormat and looked to the right, a slight smile tipping the corner of his mouth up. "You have a key, boy?" He didn't receive an answer and pursed his lips as he approached his perplexed sub, who stood in the middle of the driveway as if he had seen a ghost. "What do you wanna say." He stopped right in front of him, tugging the zipper of a black winter jacket.

Daryl flicked a strand of stray hair out of his eyes. "Hello."

"Hi." Negan smiled. "Where are you goin'."

Daryl didn't know what to say, staring up at the most beautiful face he had ever seen. Dark eyes, sharp cheekbones, and a perfectly trimmed beard. There was a faint bruise still visible on the left and the remains of a healing cut on the right. But it didn't matter at all when he huffed a soundless breath and held a pair of black sunglasses up as an explanation. "'s for you."

The smile on Negan's face dimmed down and softened his features as he studied the young man's face for a long silent moment, before he blindly accepted the shades he had asked for 34 days ago, and leaned in, pressing his lips on a pale forehead. "Good boy."