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"Fuck," Carl gasped, twisting his head away from Negan's mouth. The rough stubble scraped his jawline.
Negan chuckled low, pressing Carl harder into the mattress with his hips. "Patience, kid. You ain't going anywhere." His hand slid down Carl's stomach, fingers tracing the waistband of his boxers.
Carl arched into the touch, breath catching.
The air tasted stale, thick with sweat and something metallic. Negan's thumb pressed against the straining fabric, deliberate and slow
Carl whined low in his throat, the sound muffled against Negan's shoulder as he arched his hips upward. He strained against the weight pinning him, seeking friction where Negan's thigh pressed against his aching hardness.
"Please," he breathed, the word cracking halfway.
Sweat slicked his palms where they gripped Negan's leather vest, leaving dark smudges on the worn material. Every shift of Negan's hips above him was torture—close enough to tease, never enough to relieve the desperate tension coiling in his gut.
"Use your words, kid," Negan murmured, breath hot against Carl's ear. His thigh stilled, pressing cruel and motionless against the damp fabric. "You want something? Gotta ask baby."
Carl bucked his hips sharply, trying to grind against the solid muscle of Negan's thigh. Leather rasped against cotton. For a second, blessed friction sparked low in his belly—a promise.
Negan jerked back instantly, leaving Carl gasping against empty air. The sudden absence felt colder than Sanctuary's drafty walls.
"Naughty boys don't get rewards," Negan growled, voice thick with dark amusement.
He traced a calloused thumb along Carl's trembling lower lip, pressing down hard enough to sting. "You think you can just take what you want? That ain't how this works."
His other hand remained a heavy, unmoving weight low on Carl's abdomen, a silent anchor denying any hope of movement.
Carl whimpered, the sound tearing from his throat unbidden. "Please," he gasped again,
hips twitching helplessly against the mattress. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead, and the frantic pulse in his throat hammered against Negan's knuckles. "Please, Negan... I need..."
The words dissolved into a choked groan as Negan shifted his weight, deliberately brushing his own hardened length against Carl's thigh through the leather.
Negan chuckled, low and dark, grinding down with agonizing slowness. "You need it?" he purred, tracing the flushed skin beneath Carl's ear with his thumb.
"Course you do, kid. Feels like you're gonna explode, huh?" His hand slid lower, fingers ghosting over the straining outline in Carl's jeans, pressing just enough to make Carl cry out before pulling away entirely. "But see, I like watching you like this. All strung out and desperate. Pretty little thing begging for it." He leaned close, breath hot.
"You ain't getting relief 'til I say you've earned it. And you... you ain't earned shit yet."
Carl gasped, hips jerking off the mattress, seeking any contact. "I'm... I'm so close," he choked out, voice ragged and thin.
Every nerve screamed, coiled tight like a spring. "Please... Negan... just... let me..." His fingers scrabbled uselessly against Negan's leather-clad back, the plea dissolving into a high, broken whine. The denial was a physical ache, sharp and deep, radiating from his core. He felt stretched thin, trembling on the edge.
Negan leaned back just enough to watch Carl's face, a predator savoring its prey's struggle. His thumb pressed harder against Carl's lower lip, forcing it down.
"Say it," he commanded, voice a low rumble vibrating through Carl's chest. "Say exactly what you want. None of this 'please' bullshit."
Carl's eyes squeezed shut, tears of frustration mixing with sweat. Negan's palm pressed flat and hard against the straining denim, rubbing slow, deliberate circles. The friction was agony and ecstasy, a relentless pressure that sent electric shocks up Carl's spine. He arched, a choked sob escaping him, his mind dissolving into a white haze of pure, desperate need.
The room, the Sanctuary, everything blurred into insignificance. There was only the grinding heat, the impossible edge, and Negan's dark presence holding him there. "Please," he gasped, voice raw, "please, *please* let me cum... I need it... I can't..."
Negan's chuckle was a low vibration against Carl's ear. "See kid, it wasn't that hard."
His fingers finally dipped beneath the waistband of Carl's jeans, then his boxers. The cool air hit Carl's overheated skin for a split second before Negan's rough, calloused hand closed around him fully. Carl cried out, hips jerking involuntarily into that tight, possessive grip. It wasn't gentle; it was claiming. Negan squeezed, just shy of painful, his thumb pressing hard against the slick, leaking head.
"There we go," Negan murmured, his breath hot.
Carl's world narrowed to that single point of contact. Every nerve ending screamed. Negan's thumb slid slowly, deliberately over his slit, smearing the wetness, applying perfect, torturous pressure. It was too much, too direct after the endless denial.
Carl's back arched violently off the mattress, a strangled gasp tearing from his throat. His mind went utterly, blissfully blank. The coiled tension deep in his gut snapped, shattering into pure, white-hot release.
He came with a force that left him trembling uncontrollably, hips jerking erratically against Negan's unyielding grip. Wave after wave crashed over him, draining the frantic energy, leaving him weak-limbed and gasping. His vision blurred, tears tracking through the sweat on his temples. He was vaguely aware of the hot spill coating Negan's fingers, the rhythmic pulsing against the rough palm, the low groan that escaped his own lips.
Negan watched him with dark, satisfied eyes, a slow smirk spreading across his face as Carl shuddered through the aftershocks. He didn't release him immediately, letting Carl ride out the intense sensitivity, the overwhelming sensation bordering on pain. Only when Carl whimpered, oversensitive and spent, did Negan slowly withdraw his hand. The sticky mess glistened on his fingers in the dim light
Carl lay trembling, every muscle loose and weak, his spent cock still twitching against the damp denim. His vision swam, the ceiling blurring overhead as ragged breaths tore from his throat. Negan’s weight shifted beside him, leather creaking. Then, calloused fingers slick with Carl’s own release pressed firmly against his parted lips.
"Open," Negan commanded, his voice low and edged with dark authority. Carl flinched, but his jaw went slack, obedient even in his dazed exhaustion
Negan’s thumb pressed harder against Carl’s lower lip, smearing the sticky wetness across his mouth. "Good boy," he rumbled, the praise rough and possessive.