Tiny Dancer - CLADD - The Walking Dead (TV) [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

Chapter 1: Negan

Chapter Text

“I saw the couple who bought Dale’s place,” Negan informed his wife Lucille as he walked into the living room after hanging his black leather jacket on one of the hooks on the wall behind the door. He dropped his duffel bag underneath it on the floor. She had been talking softly to her sister as he opened and closed the front door, so he knew she was awake. He approached the hospital bed which sat in the middle of their living room, realizing it no longer struck him as an oddity in the space, each day which went by further cementing it as something which belonged in the room, ugly as f*ck or not. He wasn’t kidding himself, though. He knew one day soon, both the bed and the woman in it would be gone. Each day the bed was still taking up the space was a win in his mind, so even though the high tech bed was an unsightly addition to what once was a comfortable, cozy space, he was downright thrilled it was still there.

When he and Lucille had found out she had stage four pancreatic cancer five months before, she had told him in no uncertain terms she wanted to spend her final days in their home looking out over the water, a pastime which brought her great joy. There was no better spot in the house to enjoy the view other than on the deck, so Negan had rented a hospital bed and placed it smack dab in the middle of the room, facing the sliding glass doors to the deck and yard, where his wife’s view of the water would be unimpeded.

They had bought the small house on the shore of Swan Creek, off the Potomac River in Northern Virginia, when Lucille's father had passed away a few years before, paying cash for it with her inheritance. Lucille’s younger sister worked in real estate and had negotiated a good deal on the small property and fixer upper which had been built in the sixties; a rancher with a walkout basem*nt which lead to a nice sized backyard and a small beach. There was boat dock which they shared with the neighboring house. Their house and the house next door sat side by side at the end of a winding road, the back of their properties facing the water, the other three sides surrounded by woods.

The surrounding area had exploded with construction a decade before, and huge modern houses and upper middle class communities had been built up on the other side of the dense woods. Luckily the woods themselves had been deemed protected wetlands before developers had the chance to tear down the trees and replace them with condominiums. Negan and Lucille’s home, and the house next door would be forever nestled together between the shore and woods, thanks to local environmentalists.

When he and his wife had moved in, the house next door was owned by a friendly elderly gentleman named Dale. Lucille had made fast friends with the man, and the couple had frequently invited him over to grill out in good weather, sharing steaks, beer and stories of the good old days. Negan thought the man was hokey at times, a f*cking paragon of morality who was almost annoyingly virtuous. Even so, he enjoyed swapping stories with the man, regaling his own stories of his time on the basketball court in college and enjoying Dale’s stories of how he and his wife Irma had met at Woodstock and had taken off together on a whim, traveling the country in a rickety Winnebago. They had followed the Grateful Dead on tour in their early twenties, until they came back east three years later to settle down and get married. Though they had wanted a family, the couple were unable to have children, the elder man had confided, something the old man and the couple next door were unfortunate enough to have in common, so they had plenty of money to invest in the property on the water. Irma had died from Lou Gehrig’s disease right before Negan and Lucille had moved in, leaving Dale devastated and lonely. The couple looked at him as a surrogate father figure, since Lucille’s dad had passed, and since they tried to avoid Negan’s father as much as possible.

The old man next door had passed away from a heart attack a few months before Lucille was diagnosed with her terminal illness, and the couple had felt the loss of his wise and comforting presence in their lives.

Dale had informed Negan after an initial minor heart attack the year before, he had put a will together and had lined up the sale of his house in advance, should something happen to him, to a couple who were close friends. Good people, he’d told his neighbor, who had dreamed of living on the water, just as Negan and Lucille had.

Negan had found out from his sister in law, after the deal was done, his neighbor had sold the house for a song. He wondered why the old man hadn’t just given the couple the house, since he’d had no family to leave his money. Despite his own tendency to be brutally honest, Negan wasn’t crass enough to ask Dale the question when the man had told him about the eventual sale. Even though their new neighbors had been hand picked, Negan had worried about the couple, hoping they weren’t pretentious assholes who really couldn’t afford to live on the water.

“Like us?” Lucille had teased her husband with a grin when he'd expressed the concern. “You know our paltry teachers’ salaries barely pay our property taxes. We would have never been able to afford the mortgage on this place if dad hadn’t left us the money he did." Negan knew she was right, but he still was more than a little bitter about the final selling price of the house next door and hoped their new neighbors weren’t going to invade his haven on the water with screaming children and barking dogs.

_______

“Did they look nice? Are they young or old?” Lucille prodded him weakly for information as he leaned over the railing of the bed in the living room to kiss her hello, taking in her pale, gaunt face.

“You know I’m not good at that kinda sh*t, Lucille. A little younger than us, maybe?”

“Any kids? I never got the chance to ask Dale for any details about them, other than what he shared.” She closed her eyes for a minute, taking a rest from the conversation, trying to build up more energy to talk to her husband a bit longer.

“Didn’t see any. Just the couple.”

When he had pulled in the driveway after work, Negan had spotted what what must be their new neighbors, at Dale’s front door. He recognized them from the man's funeral. The husband handed a set of keys to his wife, waiting while she unlocked the door and pushed it inward, leaving it wide open. They were lucky there were no steps on the path leading up to the house, because the man was sitting in a wheelchair, grinning at his wife as she turned back to him. She leaned down to him, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him softly on the lips. They were the sickening f*cking picture of happy new homeowners and Negan rolled his eyes when the husband pulled his wife down into his lap and hit the switch on his electric wheelchair, rolling them through the front door to carry her over the threshold. How f*cking romantic.

Lucille asked a few more questions about her husband’s observations with her eyes closed, since her much desired energy was elusive. She was hoping he would have something in common with their new neighbors. They had to be good people since Dale had spoken so highly of them. Apparently Irma had befriended the woman when they started working at the same dance studio in the evenings, teaching ballet and barre exercise classes. When Dale's wife had become ill, apparently her friend had pitched in to help him care for Irma until she passed. The old man had mentioned wanting to have a get together with both couples, once he got to know Negan and Lucille, but it had never happened.

Lucille trusted Dale’s judgement of character, so she was sure they had to be decent people. It would be nice to think Negan would have someone to chat with or share a beer after she was gone. Hopefully he'd be on his best behavior when he met them. Her husband could be off putting, a downright asshole at times, his sarcastic wit and biting comments a defense mechanism he used to hold people at arm’s length.

She had met her husband in college at the University of Maryland. He had been a mouthy jerk, a player on the Terrapins basketball team. Full of himself and very impressed with his own talent, he'd wanted everyone around him to be impressed, as well. She had seen right through his co*cky facade, knowing there must be a reason why he worked so hard at being downright obnoxious. They’d had a few classes together, partnering up in chemistry and english for some projects because he knew she was a “f*cking brainiac”, he had told her later. He’d been a lackluster student at best, despite his intelligence.

Lucille’s quiet, laid back personality complimented his hard charging, mouthy one. They had studied together and gone to parties together, and the basketball star had looked out for his quiet friend, making sure no one messed with her. They had quickly become inseparable, spending all their time together when Negan didn't have basketball commitments, or a date. Lucille had been the person to break it to him his super hot girlfriend was cheating on him with someone else on his team, and Negan had given Lucille’s geeky former boyfriend a black eye when the loser had bad mouthed her after the pair had broken up.

At the end of their junior year, when Negan had suffered a knee injury on the court, Lucille was the one who had pushed his wheelchair around campus and made sure he kept up with his assignments and exams so he could finish the semester on schedule. When he had found out his injury would prevent him from returning to the basketball court, his multitude of basketball friends and groupies disappeared one by one, leaving him in the dust. Only Lucille and Negan’s team and dorm mate Simon, had stuck by his side, and he had clung to them both, in his very macho way of course, after being abandoned by everyone else.

During their senior year, much to Lucille’s delight, their friendship had turned to romance and Negan had asked her to marry him shortly after they graduated. They had rented an apartment in Alexandria, Virginia and his buddy Simon had followed him to work at Mount Vernon High School close to their home. Both men still taught physical education at the same school, twenty years later. Negan also coached the football and table tennis teams, while Simon coached track. Unfortunately, the position of coach for the boy’s basketball team was already filled when Negan had started at the school. The coach, Shane Walsh, was a total f*cking prick who also happened to be Principle Grimes’ best friend, so Negan didn't stand a chance at taking over as basketball coach. While her husband taught high school, Lucille had always been more interested in molding younger minds, and had taught first grade at the local elementary school until she’d become debilitated from her chemotherapy.

_________

“She had good day,” Lucille’s older sister came down the hallway from the direction of the master bedroom, carrying a scarf in her hand. “What do you think?” She held up the piece of silky cloth for Negan to see. “I bought her something a little more colorful to wear.” Joanne had been a God send in the last several months, playing nursemaid for her sister during the day while Negan was at work, helping until he could finish out the school year and take care of Lucille full time.

He took the scarf from his sister in law, nodding thoughtfully while he folded it on a diagonal, sitting down on the edge of his wife’s bed. “I’m telling you doll, I like your buzz cut, but if you insist on covering your head, this is definitely better than that f*cking old lady turban you’ve been wearing!” he told her exuberantly, mustering a grin as a tear rolled down his wife’s pale cheek. He heard Joanne in the background, gathering her purse and keys and quietly shutting the front door as she left, giving the couple the privacy they needed.

Lucille knew she wasn’t a beautiful woman, even before she had lost her hair. Cute maybe, but not beautiful or sexy like the woman her husband had had a several month affair with. Though the affair had ended a few months before, it had cemented her lack of confidence in her physical appearance.

She had suspected Negan was cheating when he suddenly started staying late after football practice one or two nights a week. At the same time he started staying late, habits which had been set in stone had suddenly changed. On the nights he came home late, instead of sitting down and eating the dinner Lucille had set aside for him the minute he walked in the door, as he normally would, he would head to the master bathroom to take a shower before he kissed her hello with minty fresh breath and sat down to eat. His routine had not faltered in all the years he'd been coaching, so the change was glaringly obvious and suspicious. Lucille had initially chosen to ignore the signs, not wanting to believe her husband would cheat on her, but after a few months of his repeated, sketchy behavior she couldn’t deny what was going on.

She’d been hurt, but also stymied. Negan hadn't withdrawn from her or been any less affectionate with her, and he’d still crawled all over her in bed two or three times a week, wanting to get laid. She had thought they'd been doing remarkably well for a couple who had so many years of marriage under their belts.

Her incredibly intelligent, but very stupid husband hadn't thought about the fact they both had the Fone Finder app downloaded on their cell phones, just in case one was ever lost. When Lucille remembered this as she’d eaten dinner alone one evening, she reluctantly had opened the app on her phone, selected Negan's phone number from the drop down menu, and a few seconds later the location of the phone had been pinpointed on a local map. She repeated the process the next two times he had come home late from work and found he was frequenting an apartment complex a few miles from the high school.

After a few months of crying to herself over the affair, and trying to convince herself her husband would realize his mistake and end whatever was going on, Lucille had finally gotten up the nerve to drive over to the apartment complex on one of the nights Negan didn’t come home for dinner. She sat in her car, parked several rows back from the front of the two buildings closest to his phone's pinpointed location, and she waited. There was a floor to ceiling window in the center of each three story building, so she could easily see each well lit staircase leading up to the top floor. She had waited for two hours and fifteen minutes, watching people come and go before a tall, handsome, cheating asshole in a black leather jacket and biker boots had come out of an apartment on the second floor, pulling his car keys out of his pocket. He turned back to talk to a pretty young woman with long dark hair who stood in the doorway in an oversized tee shirt and no pants. She was everything Lucille was not, in Negan's wife’s mind; she was curvy, sexy, and beautiful, with gorgeous long hair which shone in the light of the landing. Lucille was mesmerized by the hair falling over the woman’s shoulders, always having wished she had long, thick hair, but it hadn't been in the cards for her. She had thin, fine hair which she'd kept styled in a chin length, trendy bob, and she’d been happy with it until she saw Negan's mistress. One look at the woman had made Lucille feel frumpy.

The amateur detective had waited for five minutes after Negan had driven away, wiping away her tears and trying to pull herself together. She made her way to a local mini mart close to their home to buy a few odds and ends. Fifteen minutes later she'd walked into their home as if she simply had made a run to the store, leaving the bag of goods on the counter for Negan to see when he came out of the shower. He’d texted her the minute he had walked into their empty house, asking where she was, because it had been an anomaly for his wife not to be at home when he arrived and he'd been worried about her, the jerk.

Telling Negan she had already eaten and had papers to grade, she'd spent the evening in the study because she couldn't look at him. It had been all she could do to wait until he was asleep that night to pull the high school's last year book off the shelf in the living room and rifle through it until she’d found who she was looking for. Rosita Espinosa was a Spanish teacher at Mount Vernon. Lucille recognized the young woman from a retirement party they had attended at the end of the previous school year, for one of the other phys ed teachers Negan worked with.

The picture of Rosita with her beautiful long, dark hair flashed through her mind several times every day, breaking her heart. She just didn't know what to do about it. Should she confront her husband? Should she tell him he needed to choose between them, because he couldn’t have his cake and eat it, too? Lucille hid her angst from him, trying to act as normal as possible while she scoured the internet before he'd get home each night, reading articles like, “Why Men Cheat”, “How To Keep Your Man Interested” and “Best blow j*bs A-Z”, trying to give her husband a reason to end his affair. The jerk was having the time of his life, his wife had mused at the time. He had a hot mistress, and a wife who could now give him a toe curling, roll his eyes back in his head blow j*b. She would have been proud of her new found prowess, but the victory was bittersweet.

About the time she'd come to the conclusion she needed to call Negan on the affair, they’d found out she had cancer. She couldn't emotionally deal with both life altering issues at once, so she'd concentrated on chemo, and possible surgery, ignoring Negan’s nights out. Thank God her husband had a modicum of a conscience and his late nights had quickly become fewer and further in between.

Though she had known she had much bigger things to be upset about, she couldn’t help it when she sobbed the day the majority of her hair had fallen out in the shower after a few rounds of chemotherapy, shocking her as it came out in fistfuls in her hands. The image of Negan's mistress's long, shiny hair had taunted her and she cried while she'd thrown the clumps of hair in the trash, afraid they would clog the shower drain. She purposely left the mess in the bathroom waste can, knowing Negan would see it when he showered and shaved that evening. She’d hoped to hell it would induce a lot of guilt for the bastard. The bastard she loved with all her heart.

Lucille hadn’t let her husband see her with her head uncovered for a few months after she had lost her hair, her sister taking on the task of shaving the remaining bit of hair off her scalp after the majority of it had fallen out, and tying her little sister's first scarf around her head. Lucille shook her head at the memory as her husband tied the new, colorful fabric around her head, fussing with the edges to pull them forward the way she liked.

“f*cking gorgeous!” he winked at her as he finished.

“Liar,” she smiled sadly as she lay her head back on her pillow, her day’s ration of energy expended with the simple task of holding her head off her pillow while he tied the cloth.

Negan wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. “Well I think you’re beautiful, Lucille. I don’t give a f*ck if you have the hair cut of an Army drill sergeant. You’re still my girl.”

He was teasing her about her current half inch long hair regrowth, and she nodded against the pillow with a chuckle, shutting her eyes, her fatigue taking her over. She slept more than she was awake these days due to the pain medications she was taking. “You should get something to eat. You have to be starving,” she murmured.

Negan stared at his wife for a moment before he nodded, knowing her suggestion meant she needed time to herself. She would send him away when she was feeling emotional, because she didn’t want him to see it, trying to be strong for him as if it would make his upset over what was happening to her any f*cking less. He, in turn, would most often pretend not to notice when she was upset so she could feel her charade was successful. It was the least he could do for her. She’d always liked to take care of him, and the need hadn’t changed since she’d fallen ill. He’d wondered sometimes if he shouldn’t force her to talk about her feelings, but every time he tried he couldn’t force the words to come out of his mouth. He convinced himself she’d tell him if she was struggling, or if she needed to talk.

Even though he never had asked her how she felt about her illness, they’d had their huge emotional moment over her imminent death several weeks before when Joanne had dropped Lucille off after a visit to the doctor’s office. His wife had been devastated after being told they were going to stop chemo, because it was having a negative impact on her heart and lungs, and surgery wasn't an option. She’d been weepy from the news and still sick and weak from her treatment the week before, so Negan had scooped her up in his arms after she’d shared the horrible news, to put her in the hospital bed in the living room which had been delivered by the rental company while she was out. She had clung to him, sobbing,when he tried to lay her on it, confessing she was afraid to let him put her down. As beautiful as the idea had been to position the bed so she could see the water, she was afraid, she had explained to him, because she knew the piece of furniture would eventually be her deathbed. Negan had swallowed his heart back down his throat, telling her he would throw the f*cking bed off the deck if she wanted, motioning towards the sliding doors in front of it. “Whatever you want, Lucille. Whatever you need. Just tell me.”

“I just need you , Negan,” she’d confessed, fisting the front of his white tee shirt desperately with one hand as he stood holding her next to the bed. She’d not been talking about the hospital bed as she went on, “Just you and me until …” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words out loud. “And no one else. If you don't think that’s too much to ask?” she had whispered earnestly through her tears, sounding as if she was afraid of what his answer might be.

She’d beaten around the bush, but Negan had known exactly what she was talking about. It had been the moment his heart had f*cking broken for her. The moment he’d found out she had known he’d been cheating on her. The moment he’d known, despite the fact Lucille had tried to convince him otherwise over and over again, his father had been absolutely f*cking right in calling him a worthless piece of sh*t all of his life. He had thought he’d been slick, working hard to keep his affair a secret from her, because he never wanted to hurt her. He loved his wife desperately, but someone else had turned an eye his way. Someone who’d made him feel sexy and desirable, things he hadn’t realized he needed in daily doses until they were thrown at him full force in the form of a super hot, young Latina package named Rosita. He had been so f*cking stupid to think he had been successful in hiding his secret, and he had felt like a total sh*t heel when his wife begged him to set aside his affair until she died, afraid he was so enamored of the woman he was sleeping with he wouldn’t want to give her up, even for his dying wife. Jesus, he was a total f*cking prick.

Lucille had never had any self confidence, and had challenged him often while they were dating, “I don’t get it Negan. You could do so much better than me.” It was as if she had needed to hear the reasons why he’d chosen her and was asking him to truly evaluate what he saw in her, to be sure of what he wanted before she totally invested herself in him. He’d never had the guts to tell her, maybe he didn’t want the girls she considered “better”. Maybe he felt safe with her because she worshipped him. Those other girls, the girls she thought were “better”, were super hot, fun at a party, and they looked great on his arm, but he didn’t feel safe with them because he knew they didn’t really need him.

Since he’d spent his whole childhood being told he was a f*ck up, and nothing would ever come of his worthless ass, he knew he didn’t deserve “better”. Lucille didn’t realize she was also better, just in a different way than the other women he’d dated. She was so much f*cking better than he was, he was sure. She was f*cking perfect; witty, intelligent, cute, and submissive to his dominant nature while still calling him on his bullsh*t. The difference between Lucille and his other girlfriends was, she was safe. She was a sure thing. She was safe because she wasn’t super hot, with a handful of other guys chasing her skirt. Lucille was safe because she adored him and because he knew there would never come a day when she’d feel he wasn’t good enough for her, or feel she’d gotten tired of him. She would never cheat on him with one of his friends, because for some unknown reason she thought he was all that and a f*cking milkshake, and felt she was lucky to have him. He knew this because she told him so every goddamn chance she got, and he f*cking loved her for it. He needed her for it. Negan felt Lucille could help him be a better man than the waste of a human being he’d been reminded, over and over by his father, he’d always been.

When his dying wife had begged him to give up his affair, Negan had in turn, begged her forgiveness, assuring her the woman he was holding in his arms was the only woman he loved. He told her the affair was already over. He was lying through his teeth about having ended things with Rosita a few days before, but it was a little white lie to help his dying wife feel better, and it would be true as soon as he could break off the affair. The woman hadn’t been happy Negan’s wife had been taking up so much of his time lately, and the last time he’d seen her she had been bitching at him to make a decision as to what he was going to do about it. He’d known in that moment it was over, because no decent human being would want to keep him from spending as much time as possible with his wife in her time of need. The ultimatum had turned him off about the woman and the affair. He just hadn’t had the chance to let Rosita know yet.

“What’s she like?” Lucille had asked him as she lay on his chest after the emotional conversation had settled. In an effort to make her comfortable in her new bed, Negan had lay down on it himself with her in his arms, and she’d rolled herself so she was laying chest to chest on him while he laid on his back, because it was her favorite way to feel connected with him. She had genuinely wanted to know what his husband’s lover was like. Why he had chosen her. What the woman had, she didn’t have.

They had talked it out, and she had forgiven him because she didn’t have time to waste being angry with him when she was dying. She had also needed to forgive him, because she knew her husband, and if she didn’t, he would carry his guilt about the affair until the day he died, the same way he carried the guilt of not being able to defend his mother against his father’s verbal abuse when he was a child.

“She’s an asshole, Lucille,” he'd admitted as if he’d just figured it out himself. He shared the story of what had happened the week before, wanting her to know Rosita was in no way better than she was. “I don’t know what the f*ck I was thinking getting myself tangled up with her. I guess she made me feel good about myself in some way.”

Lucille was quiet for a few minutes as she ran her fingertips over his collarbone. She finally spoke, quietly apologizing, “I’m sorry, Negan. I’m sorry I wasn’t giving you what you needed. I wish you would have said something.”

Jesus f*cking Christ. She was apologizing to him because she thought something she had done had driven him into another woman’s bed. Un-f*cking-believable. “No Lucille!” he startled her with the vehemence of his statement, and her body jumped on top of his. Holding her head in his hands, he gently pulled her face up so she was looking him in the eye. “Don’t you ever, ever, doubt you have given me everything I could ever want or need. Do you understand me? What went on with her, had nothing to do with you. It was about me being the f*ck up I am. You are the best f*cking thing that ever happened to me, even though I don’t deserve one f*cking bit of the love you give me every single f*cking day.”

Her eyes had gone wide as she looked at him surprised, he knew, at his sudden, sort of, romantic confession. He wasn’t one to talk about his feelings, unless she prodded them out of him. She’d looked him in the eye as she nodded at him, before laying her head back on his chest.

“You have such a way with words, my love,” she’d laughed softly at the string of ‘f*cks’ in what he’d just confessed. He couldn’t help but laugh with her. After a few moments she had reassured him seriously, “You’re not a f*ck up, Negan, no matter what your father told you. Making a mistake doesn’t make you a f*ck up. It makes you human.”

They’d made love that night for the last time, in the bed looking over the water. She had resisted him initially, despite her desire, admitting to him she didn't feel very sexy since she’d lost her hair. He in turn insisted in his most dramatic tone of voice, he had never told her he had a secret fetish for bald heads. He’d made her laugh out loud, when he had confided, very seriously, he frequently rubbed one out while watching Yule Brenner and Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson movies when he was alone, before he finally cracked up, both of them laughing at his purposely ridiculous attempt to convince her he wanted her, hair or not. Her love for him had exploded beyond epic proportions in that moment.

Negan’s guilt ridden ass had made love to her sweetly and gently, not even asking for a blow j*b he knew she was too nauseous to even consider. He wanted, for once in their relationship, to be something other than a self centered dick and show her how much she meant to him, in the only way he really knew how. He may not be good with words, but he was a lady pleaser, having made it his business to learn all the little nuances of the female body, what women liked, and the thing which turned him on the most - what would make them org*sm at his bidding. And org*sm his wife did that night, twice. As they lay wrapped around each other afterwards, she had kissed him softly, teasing, “Boy, you reeeally felt guilty! Have you done anything else wrong lately I’d enjoy knowing about?”

Negan had simply marveled at his f*cking amazing, forgiving wife.

________

He woke up at one in the morning to the quiet sound of hydraulics raising the head of Lucille’s mattress into a sitting position. He listened, waiting to see if she would call to him for help with a bedpan, or a drink of water. He’d been sleeping on the couch in the living room, ten feet from the hospital bed, ever since she’d started sleeping there instead of in their room. She was so weak and her pain was so severe at times, it was easier on Lucille if he didn't carry her back and forth to the bedroom. He would sit in the armchair next to her in the evenings, reading the paper, or playing on his phone until she fell asleep, then would move to the couch where he would sleep for the night. Every once in awhile she would insist he sleep in the master bedroom, knowing he wasn’t getting quality sleep on a couch which was too short for his six foot two frame.

She must have insomnia, he reasoned with himself when she didn’t call for him, but instead looked out the sliding glass doors in front of her at the water beyond. Since she slept more than she was awake due to her pain medications, her body didn’t seem to know whether it was day or night anymore. She would just as often be awake for two hours in the middle of the night as she would during the day. After a minute or so of staring outside, she reached over to the folding table he’d placed beside her bed for the pair of small binoculars she kept there. She used them often to look at the wildlife which often made its way to their shore, loving the ability to feel connected with nature.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” he asked her softly after she’d held the binoculars to her eyes for a bit.

She didn’t seem surprised he was awake, but he could see her smile at the sound of his voice in the dim glow of a nightlight he’d plugged in near the foot of her bed so he didn’t break his f*cking neck trying to get to her in the middle of the night. “The dock. I was just thinking about the fact we never did christen the dock like you wanted to, right after we moved in,” she replied wistfully, lowering the field glasses and turning to her husband.

Negan rose to walk over to her, running the back of his fingers over her cheek. “I think you misheard me, Lucille. I wanted you to christen my co*ck not the dock, and if I remember correctly, you did that right here on the living room floor,” he responded, smiling in the dark, even though she couldn’t see it. “And you did a great job if I remember correctly, riding me into the f*cking sunset!”

“Mmm. That was one of my favorites,” she confessed. “I always liked being on top so I could control the pace.”

“That’s why you were always rolling me over?” He was surprised by the tidbit of information.

“Oh, yeah,” she came back at him. “I wanted to do it my way, since I put you in charge of everything else in our lives.” It was true. As he nodded in appreciation, her hand snaked between the railings of the bed, pushing between his thighs to massage his balls gently.

“Come on, Lucille! That’s not fair,” he complained. “I was already getting a hard on thinking about you f*cking me senseless, and now you’re just making it worse!”

“Well, you have fun with that, lover boy,” she chuckled tiredly, continuing to fondle him as she pushed the button to lower herself back into a lying position, the little bit of energy she’d expended over the last few minutes tiring her out.

“Oh, don’t you doubt I will, lady,” he teased, running his thumb down her cheek, to her lips, feeling the smile on her mouth as she kissed the tip lightly. It seemed like it had been so long since they'd been intimate, even though it had only been a few months. He missed the feel of her, and those amazing f*cking blow j*bs she'd been giving him before she got sick. He never had figured out why she'd suddenly decided she liked deep throating him. He leaned down to kiss her forehead, her breathing already evening out as she fell asleep.

________

It was only a week later when Negan had to apply for leave to take care of his wife full time. Joanne insisted she could continue to care for her sister for the last three weeks of school so he could continue to work, but he stood firm in his desire to take over. Lucille was looking weaker and feeling worse every day. Her pain was overwhelming, and a Hospice volunteer started coming in each day to make sure she was comfortable, talking with the doctor and making sure the appropriate level of narcotics were called in to keep her comfortable. She instructed Joanne and Negan on how to give Lucille an intramuscular injection of pain medication, to use when she was no longer able to swallow pills.

Once Negan took over as her full time caregiver, he insisted the volunteer show him everything he needed to do to care for his wife, and then impatiently asked her to leave. “I’ve got it under control,” he assured the woman as he practically pushed her out the door.

He didn’t want a stranger sharing the last bit of time he had left with his wife. He had been living in a bubble with her since he’d started caring for her full time, tightly controlling their privacy by setting a three hour window of visiting hours for anyone who wanted to see her. He would use the short time her siblings and close friends could visit to shower, eat lunch, shop and run other errands out of the house.

Taking care of his wife was the one thing Negan felt he could do for Lucille after spending their entire marriage letting her cater to him. He made sure he was awake when she was awake, no matter the time, day or night. He slept when she did, and since she was only awake for a handful of hours each day, he used the rest of his alone time to take care of other household tasks. He put a call bell on her bedside table, so she could let him know when she woke up if he wasn’t in the room. When he heard the bell, he would drop what he was doing and go to her, compelled to be with her for her every waking moment.

He read to her, at her request, or talked to her, sharing his favorite memories of their time together as he held her hand through bed railing, and she would nod and smile with her eyes closed, drifting in and out of sleep.

He was sitting with her as she slept one day, looking out over the water, when he heard her tired voice murmur, “I wish you could lay with me.”

“Me, too,” he admitted, caressing her hand through the railing, but it just wasn’t possible to squeeze into the twin sized bed with her. She needed all of its space to try to maintain some tiny level of comfort, due to her high level of pain.

When her sisters came to visit that afternoon, Negan told them he needed to run an errand, grabbed the keys to Lucille's SUV and left. The women raised an eyebrow at each other when he returned, quietly wheeling a hospital gurney he’d rented through the front door, since Lucille had fallen asleep while he was gone. He not so politely insisted it was time for the women to go, even though the short visiting hours he’d imposed weren’t over. When he was alone with his wife again, he lowered the railing on one side of Lucille’s bed and wheeled the gurney as close as he could, raising it to the height of her mattress. Grabbing the book he was currently reading, and the iPad on which he wrote out football plays and notes, he lowered the closest railing on her bed, and raised the railing on the outside edge of the gurney. He settled in next to his wife in their new makeshift nest, moving as close to her as he could manage without compromising her comfort.

Negan ended up dozing off next to her, waking at the feel of her fingers running along his jawline. She had her head turned to face him, sporting a smile a mile wide. “You made my wish come true,” she whispered, her voice full of awe.

“I had to.”

“You always did, you know,” she squeezed his side lightly as she praised him softly, “make all my wishes come true.”

“I tried, Lucille.” He breathed a sigh of relief at her confession, after having spent the last several months wondering if he could and should have a better husband for his wife. "I never wanted anything more than I wanted to make you f*cking happy, even if I didn’t always do a good job at it,” he confessed, his voice full of emotion with the realization they were talking about their life together in the past tense. f*ck! I’m not f*cking ready for this!

“You did an amazing job, my love,” she reassured him softly, with a smile. “I’ve always felt so lucky you picked me. You need to remember that.” She gave him one more squeeze as she closed her eyes, falling back to sleep within seconds.

Negan couldn’t stop the handful of tears which fell as he watched her, and he wiped at them away impatiently with his fingers. It was the only time, through it all, he allowed himself the luxury of emotion.

________

He hated the f*cking pain medication, but she needed the f*cking pain medication. When he gave her the new, heavier medication needed to control her pain, she was all but comatose, sleeping most hours of the day and night. When she finally did wake up, she was either incoherent or she was in horrible pain. If she was coherent, she would try to tough it out so she could spend a few lucid minutes with him, but he could read her pain, and he would insist she take her medicine. Their best moments were after she’d she’d taken the pills, and they were just starting to kick in. The medication would take the edge off her pain, and they would have fifteen minutes or so in which they could talk quietly or just be together while she was still lucid without the excruciating pain.

Negan woke up at the crack of dawn one morning to the feel of Lucille moving next to him. It startled him because she barely moved any more, and he had to be sure to turn her, and prop her with pillows so she didn’t get bed sores. He opened his eyes to find her arranging her blankets around herself. She pulled the scarf off her head with one hand smiling at him when she noticed he was awake, continuing with her task as he stretched. Running her fingers slowly over her flattened short hair she frowned, and reached between the railings of her bed and dipped her finger tips into the glass of water which sat on the table next to her. He watched silently, with fascination, as she ran the wet fingers through her hair before she frowned again and reached back between the railing and dipped all of her fingers down in the full glass of water. She moved her dripping hand back up to run it through the top of her hair, announcing softly, “That’ll do it!” as she pushed the short hair back around her ears on the sides, dipped her hand in the water again and then used it to spike the hair on the top. “How’s that?” she asked, turning to him with her eyebrows raised in question.

“It looks great, actually,” he answered, clearly surprised she had done such a great job with her impromptu new hair do.

“Will you make some coffee? I want to smell your morning coffee.” She smiled at him and nodded at him as if to say, “Go ahead.” She hadn't been interested in the sight, smell or taste of food for a long time, having totally lost her appetite. She hadn't had any solid food for a few days, only asking for a drink of water occasionally to wet her lips. The Hospice volunteer told him this was normal, when he’d asked the woman about it the day before, and she had advised him gently to prepare himself because it was the beginning of the end.

Her request intrigued Negan, as did her interest in tidying herself up. Negan didn’t know where her sudden burst of low level energy was coming from, but he wasn’t going to question it. She wasn't dancing a jig, still moving and speaking tiredly, but he'd take what he could get. He hopped out of bed and headed to the kitchen, fifteen feet away, and started a pot of coffee. She rambled quietly at him the whole time he worked, sounding sedated, but cheerful as she raised the head of the bed to look out the window. She talked about how she must be pale, since she hadn’t stepped out into sunlight for weeks and weeks, and she cheerfully lamented the fact they never did take that vacation to Hawaii they’d always talked about. She asked him if he’d started thinking about football tryouts and practice, which always started weeks before school did.

“It’s only the beginning of June, Lucille,” he laughed at her. “I have a some time before I need to think about that.”

“I know how you are, Negan,” she ribbed him. “Your obsession will begin again in a few weeks, even if practice hasn’t started yet.”

“You know me too well,” he conceded, pouring a cup of the finished coffee, adding his sugar and milk, and carrying it back to the living room.

“Here,” she patted the gurney, gesturing for him to sit back down beside her. “Take a drink and kiss me with your coffee breath like you used to do every morning. I miss it.”

He smiled and nodded at her request, scooting as close he could next to her. He took a sip of the steaming beverage, and leaned over to kiss her softly, lingering and playing, grazing back and forth over her lips a few times with his to make the intimacy last. She hummed at the taste and the sensation before she lay her head on his shoulder. They sat in silence for a few moments, and he wondered if she was in pain, afraid to ask her because giving her the pain medications would mean the end of the much needed moment they were sharing. For once he was going to wait until she asked him for her pills.

“I’m going to die soon, Negan,” she informed him out of the blue, very matter of fact in her tired voice, as they looked at the water. “I can feel it. I’ve heard stories about how people rally right before they die. I think that’s what’s happening today. I feel much better than I have in a long time.”

For some unknown reason he remained calm at her words, asking her the first thing which came to his mind, also matter of fact, in return, “Are you afraid?” Because I am. I need you. I don’t want you to f*cking go. It would kill him to know she was afraid.

“Not afraid. Just sad,” she admitted, pulling at the front his shirt in a plea to get to him to turn to face her. He put one foot on the floor and leaned over to sit his coffee on one of the side tables close to his gurney and then turned to lay on his side facing her. When he had settled in, she continued as if she had to get her thoughts off her chest. “I’m sad to leave you … and I’m worried you’ll be a mess without me.” She smiled at the statement, and he couldn't help but smile back at her. She wasn’t being presumptuous. She was probably f*cking right.

“Don’t worry about me, Lucille. I can promise you I’ll be okay after things settle. The last thing I want is for you to be sad because you're worried about me.” He was answering her honestly because he knew she needed to hear it.

“I need you try to be nicer to people when I'm gone. Can you do that for me?” she appealed to him thoughtfully, “You’re going to need people, Negan. People besides Simon and Merle. Your buddies aren’t going to be enough.” Merle Dixon was the groundskeeper for the school, and Negan always told her, “the man is my f*cking spirit animal, Lucille!” They were both beer drinking, crass assholes, her husband reminded her proudly every time she rolled her eyes when his friend’s name was mentioned. The description of the two of them was dead on. Simon was a little more refined, but only a little.

He nodded at her, genuinely wondering whether he could even tolerate more people in his life. Most people annoyed him, too sensitive for his brutally honest opinions and ball busting. Bunch of f*cking puss*es.

“And find yourself a nice woman, once you get over me,” she winked at him. “Someone I would approve of. Definitely not someone Merle would approve of. Not one of those simpering, tall, tanning bed women who are afraid to break a nail. Find someone who is intelligent enough to keep you on your toes. Someone who challenges you, okay?” Again she was very earnest in her request, very serious despite her jokes.

He smiled, finding it amusing his wife was dictating the type of woman he should settle down with after she was gone. He could ignore her, but she knew him so well, he actually tucked her list of future girlfriend requirements away for later. “No fake fingernails or high hair,” he listed off as if he needed to be sure he heard her correctly, ticking off each requirement by raising one finger. “Intelligent, with beach ball sized lady nuts … Hey, can she have nice titt*es while she challenges me?” He absolutely f*cking loved his wife’s laughter as she nodded her head in approval, and he reached out to entwine the fingers of his free hand with hers, rubbing the side of her thumb with his.

“I’ll send you a sign to let you know she’s the right one,” she promised him with a soft giggle. “I’ll be sure lightning strikes her down if she’s not.”

They talked a while longer, Lucille reminding him he needed to call a roofer before next winter, because theirs needed to be replaced, and to make sure he cleaned out the gutters when she wasn’t there to nag him, so the basem*nt didn’t flood when all the overflowing water pooled at sliding patio doors downstairs. The SUV registration would expire in November, so she made him put it on the calendar on his phone, along with which month the car insurance was due, telling him to pull the money to pay the bill out of the short term savings account.

“I’ll be watching out for you … ” she reassured him, wincing in pain as she tried to shift herself on her bed. “... if anything major comes up.”

He stared at her thoughtfully for several seconds wanting to believe she’d be keeping an eye on him, like she’d done throughout their years together. “I love you, Lucille, you know that, right? I hope you’ve never doubted how much I love you, even when I was being a prick.”

“Of course I knew you loved me, even when you were being a prick,” she smiled. Her tone changed to a more thoughtful one as she reminded him, “You can be a jerk sometimes, Negan, but you are a good man, and you’ve been a good husband.” After several seconds of quiet, out of the blue, she made a request of him. “I need you to promise me something.” She was quiet for a moment, looking him in the eye. “I need you to stay away from your father once I’m gone. I need to know you’ll stay away from him, because I won’t be here to undo the damage he does when he beats you down, verbally. Would you please do that for me?” She nodded very seriously at him, wanting him to agree with her. “I need you to forget the ‘honor thy mother and father’ bullsh*t your mother spouted at you to keep you from pummeling him when he was treating her like dirt, and keeps you tethered to him. The man has never given you any reason to honor him, Negan. He doesn’t even deserve your time or attention.”

“Lucille, I can’t …” His wife had never spoken so bluntly about his father. She had always supported her husband, and reassured him after each of his ugly run ins with the man, but she had always kept her opinions about what she really thought of his dad, to herself.

She could see his hesitation in accepting what she was saying; his hesitation in agreeing with her. Early in their relationship, Negan had made it clear he wasn’t open to discussion about his mother or his father’s faults, and so Lucille had honored his request. There wasn’t time to puss*foot around the matter anymore though, so she was going to deal with it head on.

“I need you to make a choice, Negan, right now. Him or me. I can’t be at peace if I know I’m leaving you here vulnerable, with him.”

He was caught off guard by her ultimatum, her impassioned plea, and the the idea she thought he was vulnerable. Vulnerable was the last word he’d use to describe himself, and he was more than a little offended at the idea … which was exactly why she had never shared her vision of how she viewed his position in his relationship with his father before now, he realized as he frowned at her incredulously.

She waved her hand at him as if to wave away his attitude, insisting gently, “Don’t look at me like that. It’s true, and you know it. We don’t have time to argue about it. I refuse to waste precious time arguing about it. Just accept what I’m saying, and tell me, honestly, you’ll stay away from him, Negan. For me. Because it will make me happy.”

He shook his head slightly, fighting with what Lucille was asking of him, because it went against everything his mother had taught him was right and good.

“Don’t fight it, Negan. Don’t think it to death. Just do it. Just make up your mind, right now, to live the rest of your life without the burden of your father. You can be a good man, and still make this decision to cut his toxicity out of your life.” She was playing dirty, she knew, pressing him one last time, “Promise me you’ll do it, so I can die in peace.”

Lucille could see turmoil behind in eyes. She could see it in his clenched jaw and his tight lips. He wasn’t angry with her. He was conflicted. Conflicted because what she was asking of him went against everything he’d been raised to believe, and in contrast, because he had always trusted his wife’s wisdom implicitly.

She played her final card, knowing it might be the thing which would make him shut her down, because she was going to tell him his mother wasn’t perfect. “I know you aren’t going to want to hear this, Negan, but your mother should have protected you from him. She should never have expected you to take his abuse or watch her take his abuse. She should have never told you you if you wanted to be a good boy, you’d put up with it. Because what he did to you both was wrong. He is a hateful, small man, who made himself feel better by breaking down every bit of self worth you or your mother ever had; tearing you both down so he could feel bigger in some warped way.”

Negan could see the shimmer of tears in her eyes as she pleaded with him. “Please promise me?” She begged him one more time. “I can’t stand the thought of him tearing you down, without me here to help you pick up the pieces afterwards.”

He rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling for several long minutes, processing what she was telling him. Trying to decide, in essence, who he valued more, the woman beside him or his dead mother. Trying to decide who he believed more. Who he felt was right, his mother or his wife. He had to decide, because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he lied to his wife on her deathbed, and he needed to believe her in order to promise her.

Lucille saw the slight nod of his head, a few seconds before she heard the soft, “I promise,” he whispered before he turned back on his side to face her. “I promise you, Lucille.”

Negan could see the relief in her eyes and her expression as her body relaxed with his acceptance. Strangely, he felt relieved, too. He would have thought he would feel guilt or shame at the prospect of abandoning his father, but he felt relieved. Maybe his sense of relief should f*cking tell him something.

“I love you.” She tapped her lips with her index finger, ordering him to kiss her. She cupped his face, rubbing her thumb over his lips after he complied, pure devotion in her eyes.

He helped her scoot to the far side of her bed, and moved onto the empty space to lay on his side with her in his arms. He didn’t know how long they lay quietly, but she finally spoke the words he didn’t want to hear. “My pain is starting to kick up quickly, sweetheart. I’m going to need my medication soon.” She sounded almost apologetic. She was quickly winding down. He could hear it in her voice and see it all over her as her demeanor changed radically in the course of a few minutes, the energy draining from her, and the pain rising, right before his eyes. It was as if she'd needed to settle some matters before she left him, so her body had rallied to give her the strength to do so. Since she felt things were settled, her extra energy was pouring out of her like water through a sieve.

Negan had a moment of panic at her request. He wouldn’t deny her, but he didn’t want to give the medication to her because he knew, instinctively, once it kicked in, this moment in time would be over. It would all be over. He just knew it. He nuzzled his nose and lips into her shoulder in front of him, nodding. She ran her fingers through his hair, and when he heard her hiss in pain he reluctantly got up to grab the bottle of medication to count out what she needed and help her swallow the pills down with water.

For once in his life it wasn’t satisfying to be right. They had twenty more minutes in the comfort of their bubble, murmuring to each other affectionately while they held each other, before Negan watched Lucille finally fall asleep. She never woke up again.

Chapter 2: Gigi

Chapter Text

Her world was spinning like an out of control carousel, and Gigi couldn’t stop the ride and get off. Or perhaps it was more like roller coaster, she changed her analogy, because lately it had seemed like all of the big hills, without any of the curves or small dips and peaks that gave you a little break before the next massive drop which made your stomach crawl into your throat. She desperately needed to get off the ride and put her feet back on stable ground.

“Hey lady! The little tree is in the way,” one of the rental company’s delivery men called to her through the screen door, as she stood at the counter of the island in the kitchen making notes on her list of To Do’s for the funeral and wake the next day. “You want us to put it here, or there?” He motioned over one shoulder, then the other with his thumb, showing her the options.

She pulled herself out of her thoughts and walked from the kitchen counter to the sliding glass doors, which lead from the family room out to the second story deck on the back of the new house. Their new house on the water her family hadn’t even moved into yet, or had time to enjoy together before her husband Yuri had died four days before. She was standing at the island counter in the kitchen, because no furniture had been moved in yet.

Sliding the screen open, she stepped out onto the deck, looking at the options the man offered, and inquired, “You think if we put it this way we can keep it on this side of the center line of the dock?” She gestured with one hand as she spoke, to make herself clear.

She was sure Dale had told them the property line ran down the center of the part of the dock which ran from the shore, out over the water. The structure T’d at the end, so both houses had their own part of the dock to call their own. “But we share it really,” he'd informed her and Yuri as they had looked at the property when the younger couple had come over for dinner with he and Irma for the first time. “The guy next door is a little bit pompous, but once you get past the co*cky persona, he’s a decent man. The wife’s an absolute gem. I use their side of the dock all the time to fish, since this side is shaded by those trees at the edge of the property in the early morning.” He’d pointed to some of the tall trees at the shoreline.

Gigi had never dreamed, when she and Yuri had oohed and ahhed to Dale and Irma over how much they loved the house on the water, their friend would take their excitement to heart and arrange for her and Yuri to purchase the house for such a low price, comparative to it’s value, when he passed away. Apparently they had no close family to leave the property to. The man had never told them of his intentions, only teasing them with, “Maybe one day you two will own a house just like this one,” when they’d raved about it. She and Yuri had assumed the proceeds from the discounted sale paid off a mortgage on the property or another estate debt.

“We can try to keep it on this side, lady, but it’s a big tent,” the man nodded at her with a co*ck of his head, as if he wasn’t convinced it was possible. Gigi wouldn’t bother with the tent at all, but the forecast was calling for the possibility of light rain the next day, and she knew the number of people attending the wake wouldn’t fit in the house should they all need to move inside. Her mother in law had questioned her as to why she wasn’t having the luncheon at a catering hall or restaurant, to which Gigi had replied an upscale funeral wasn't her or Yuri's style.

A widow for only four days, she was still reeling from the shock and the pain over her husband’s death, and had purposely numbed herself so she could get through the events of the next few days, which would include a hefty dose of her mother in law. Her husband’s funeral and wake were turning into major productions instead of the quiet intimate affair she would have preferred, so she hadn't had the time to process the loss of her husband, even if she'd been ready to do so. Yuri’s mother Natalia was a bit of a pill, insisting the funeral be worthy of her son’s fame. An upscale, pretentious funeral? Was she kidding?

Thanking the installer, Gigi went back inside to her list. Her best friend Carol had offered to help her coordinate the funeral and wake fully, but Gigi had kindly refused, telling her she’d call if she needed any advice. She desperately needed the distraction because she wasn’t ready to face Yuri’s death. She needed to get through the next few days and then she’d have time for a nice, healthy emotional breakdown, she told herself. I need to sit on all of this for a bit, once things quiet down, and then maybe I’ll be able to bring myself to read his letter.

__________

Gigi had found out earlier in the day, her guesstimate for the number of attendees for the luncheon needed to be doubled, thanks to her mother in law’s wide social circle and her own and Yuri’s dance company friends who'd been messaging they were coming to town for the funeral. She had immediately called her long time friend, T Dog, who owned the catering company she’d hired for the wake. “No problem, Gigi,” he immediately calmed her panic. “I’ve already prepped the food for an event the day after tomorrow. I’ll just add it to your menu tomorrow and put Tiny and Oscar to work to replace it.”

Thank God for friends , Gigi thought to herself as she went back to her list.

1. Flowers for the funeral- Check.

2. Someone to move the flowers from the funeral and set them up at the wake- Check.

3. Tent, chairs, catering and alcohol- And more alcohol- Check. Check. Check. Check.

4. Upstairs and downstairs bathrooms clean?C heck.

5. Orchestra musicians Yuri’s mother insisted on for background music? Check.

6. Note to self to make sure the musicians approach the overbearing woman at the wake to pay the remainder of the bill? Check, check, and check again.

She smirked at the thought of the woman being put on the spot for two thousand dollars. The amount of money wouldn’t be an issue, and not one to make a scene, her mother in law would simply pull out a credit card and hand it over, while reminding herself to discuss it with Gigi later. The widow smirked to herself at the thought of how she would simply ignore the phone ringing for a month or so to avoid Natalia’s wrath. Come to think of it, now that Yuri was gone, she had no reason to ever talk to her mother in law again after the wake. Call it a silver lining. The only one.

________

“Can you imagine?” Gigi could hear Natalia’s heavy Russian accent during the luncheon the next day, from the other side of the tent, “The famous prima ballerina, Gigi Sokolov, named after a prostitute ?”

Oh my god, not again! She just loves to tell that story. Why am I even surprised,? I knew it was coming. Natalia couldn’t get through one social event with her daughter in law, without sharing the story, even if everyone in attendance had already heard the story several times. It was a story which had been a long time source of amusem*nt for Gigi’s family, until Yuri’s mother had turned it into a slight on both Gigi and her mother.

Gigi’s mother Estelle was infatuated with anything and everything French, and her daughter had always loved to hear the tales of her obsession. Her mother was quirky, in a preciously amusing way, and was also the kindest woman she’d ever met. Gigi loved her dearly.

Her mother’s infatuation with La France started when Madame Bertrand moved into her neighborhood in the fifties, when Estelle was a little girl. Bridgette Bertrand dressed as if she had stepped off the pages of Vogue. She was beautiful, and eccentric, and her home was the quintessence of French culture. Her life, her accent and her persona were the absolute juxtaposition of life and culture in Jackson, Alabama where Estelle had lived with her family for all of her ten years of life.

Estelle had found every aspect of the woman’s life fascinating, and strived to live the very exciting French lifestyle Bridgette described, in every way she could, even asking her own mother, in her best French accent, if they could bake croissants. Or better yet, she rambled to her mother, could they ride their bicyclettes to the local market to get a French baguette and cheese to put in the basket attached to the handlebars? In response, Gigi’s Grandma Flo had informed little Estelle, in her heavy southern accent, cigarette bobbing from the corner of her mouth as she spoke, there was no way they could ride their damn bikes the five miles down highway twenty four to Foodland, and daddy couldn’t eat rich foods anyway, due to his gout, so there'd be no “crescent bakin’ neither … and, Estelle?” her mother had continued as she flicked the ashes off the end of her cigarette into the flower bed she was weeding, “Why are you talkin’ like you have rocks in your mouth?”

Estelle had sloughed off the minor setback in her plan to live like her beloved neighbor, and found other ways to immerse herself in French culture. She had insisted on wearing white gloves with her dresses to school every day, and had worn her long hair twisted up in a chignon, or as close to one as a ten year old could manage on her own. It had only taken thirty two bobby pins to keep it in place each day, and there were only a few hairs sticking out of the sides once she had gotten the hang of it. She had also taken to carrying one of her mother’s old beaded purses which she had carried to Aunt Effie's wedding before Estelle was born, because it had been similar in color to their French neighbor’s red velvet clutch she used for every day.

“Estelle! You ruin my good purse and I'll tan your hide!” her mother had warned her. “I'll need that for cousin Judy's weddin’ this fall!”

After two months of being teased relentlessly about her clothing and her hair, Estelle had slowly reverted to dressing like everyone else in response to the peer pressure, and had lost her much practiced, fabulous French accent. She had continued to visit Miss Bridgette regularly, but she hid her obsession with all things French from all of the “paysans stupide”, or stupid peasants, as she explained to Margaux. Margaret's obsessed best friend had started calling her by the French version of her name, because Margaret did not sound nearly as exotic as Margaux.

Estelle had finally gotten her chance to truly immerse herself in the lifestyle she coveted, when she married Gigi’s father, Jack, who she had decided early on to nickname Jacques because it sounded so romantic. She had also ordered furniture and wallpaper for their home on a whim, without conferring with her husband, much to his chagrin. Their living room had resembled a brothel in springtime, according to Jacques, decorated in the color palette of peonies, a favorite flower in French gardens. While he worked, his wife played the ultimate roll of a French housewife, mastering the baking of croissants and cooking French dishes for dinner, much to her new husband’s delight.

When her first child was born, Estelle had named her after the French character Gigi, from the American musical named after its lead character. Estelle had insisted everyone pronounce the baby’s name with a soft “G” sound as they did in France, because she thought the name was glamorous and beautiful, like the baby’s namesake in the movie version of the musical. In the story, the lead character Gigi was trained by her aunt and grandmother, how to behave in high society so the young woman could find the man of her dreams to take care of her for the rest of her life. Estelle had found it oh so romantic, and the the actress who played the title character, the gorgeous Leslie Caron, was everything a woman wanted to be, the epitome of feminine beauty.

Gigi had thought being named after the stunning movie character was magical, and as a child, told anyone who would listed about the origin of her name. It wasn’t until she was performing with the New York City Ballet Company when she was eighteen, a friend had shocked her when she had asked, “You know that in the movie, Gigi was training to be a courtesan, don’t you? A high class call girl?” Of course, young Gigi had had no idea and had been mortified, calling her mother as soon as her eight hour rehearsal day was over, to ask her about her name.

“Noooo … really?” her mother had responded, and after a pause, “Ahhhh … now it all makes sense! … Oh my.”

“Oh my God, Mom! You seriously didn’t know?” The two of them had had a good laugh about the matter, while her father had just shaken his head at his wife’s mistake, apologizing to his daughter for not being more aware of American musical characters when her mother had insisted on the worldly name for his daughter.

________

“Yes!” Gigi could hear Natalia telling a group of friends who had gathered around to hear her loud tale. “Her mother had no idea at all she was naming her daughter after a prostitute! How could the woman watch a movie thirty times, as she professes, and not understand the gist of the story? It’s unbelievable!” She shook her head, rolling her eyes with a smirk.

Gigi purposely wandered into the group, laughing while she looked quite innocent in reminding her mother in law and her friends about a Russian prostitute who had made the news several years before, when she was arrested for kicking one of her john’s to death over his perverse sexual demands. “Her name was Natalia. I guess I’m not the only woman on earth who shares her name with a famous prostitute!” She laughed as she flitted away, leaving the group laughing in her wake, and her mother in law speechless.

_________

“If we can just get through today,” Gigi had reassured Marshall and Hannah that morning as they pulled into the garage with an SUV full of sleeping bags, air mattresses, folding furniture and suitcases, “then we can concentrate on moving in to our new house, and getting settled before you start at your new high school in the fall.”

She was heartbroken for the children, who had now lost both their biological father and adoptive father within a short time frame. Gigi’s brother Pierre and his wife Karen had been killed in a car accident two years before, leaving the children orphaned. Gigi was their only aunt, since her brother’s wife was an only child. Karen’s parents were in their seventies, and Gigi’s parents were in their sixties, leaving both sets of grandparents in a place in their lives where raising two teenagers would be more than a little taxing, even if their desire to do so was genuine.

Since they had no children of their own yet, and had always wanted to expand their family, Gigi and Yuri had stepped in immediately, and the teens had been relieved to find a home with their cool aunt and uncle. They had bonded as a family immediately, and the children had been very supportive of Yuri as he tried to physically and emotionally work through the aftermath of his strokes. They had been devastated when their aunt had broken the news about her husband’s death earlier in the week.

Gigi was aware the children were on the same turbulent roller coaster she was riding, and had been making sure to give them plenty of attention and affection over the last several days, which also helped keep her mind off her husband’s death. She was fully aware she was in avoidance mode, and had kept herself busy ever since she’d woken up and found her husband dead in the bed beside her several mornings before. She’d purposely kept herself busy, because she knew she wasn’t ready to deal with his death.

Gigi and Yuri had met when she auditioned for the American Ballet Theatre. She had started taking ballet lessons when she was four, also training in tap and modern dance from elementary through high school. Her dance instructor had recognized the girl’s talent, and had signed Gigi up to audition for a summer program with the New York City Ballet after her junior year of high school, sending in a video of one of her student's performances. Only the best dancers were invited to participate, and she was one of twenty teenagers from around the country who spent the summer dancing for eight hours a day, six days a week with the older, seasoned dancers of the company. At the end of the ten week program, Gigi and her new friends had performed with their mentors in a one week run of a special ballet, whose proceeds had benefited charity.

The summer ballet corps had been a glimpse into the arduous life of a professional ballerina and heightened the star struck teen’s desire to dance for a living. All of the participants, including Gigi, had worked unremittingly over the summer in the hopes their talent would be recognized, and they would be invited to dance with the company after high school. Her invitation to dance with the company had ended up being bittersweet, since she was one of only two who had been chosen, and the disappointment of the rest of her new dancer friends weighed heavily on her. She and the other invitee, Carol, had down played their excitement in front of the group, but had squealed and laughed and cried about it over the phone after they’d gotten back to their respective home states when summer was over.

Carol Anderson was a quiet girl from Georgia, who came from an unhappy home. Her father was overbearing, and her mother was unavailable, emotionally. She had been excited at the prospect of leaving her small hometown of Senoia, Georgia, to live the life of a prima ballerina in the big city. Gigi adored her, and they'd become fast friends as they roomed together over the summer, then talked on the phone for hours once they were home, several times a week throughout their senior year of high school, as they’d tried to imagine what their life would be like once they moved to New York after graduation.

Both girls had been naive, sure the two of them would be able to share a beautiful apartment in the city, because their starting salary with the ballet company would be more than they would have ever hoped to make in an entry level administrative assistant or teacher's position in their hometowns.

Their hopes and dreams hadn't turned out to be their reality. The cost of living had been so high in New York, Gigi and Carol were forced to share a two bedroom, roach infested apartment with four other girls. They had slept two to a room, and the new roommates had drawn straws to see who would be stuck sharing the sofa bed in the living room. When Carol had drawn a short straw, Gigi gave up her twin bed in one of the bedrooms so she could keep Carol company in the misery of not having any space of her own. The thin mattress in the sofa bed had smelled musty, and despite the friends’ attempts to air it out, the odor never did subside. The disappointed eighteen year olds had lain in bed their first night living in the city, nose to nose, crying, trying to convince each other things would get better. It would all get better on their first day of work with the company.

“There’s something about her,” Louis Marchand had mused to the head of the company, Abigail Masters after working with the new dancers for their first week of rehearsal. The director had worked her way up through the company, finally chosen to head the NYCB after fifteen years on staff. She had paid her dues as a dancer, and at twenty eight, when she realized she would never be one of the “chosen ones” who were groomed for starring roles, she had interviewed and was chosen to work in the administrative offices for the company.

Abigail had eyeballed Gigi as the girl stretched at the barre, wondering what it was everyone saw in her, since she’d yet to see the newbie dance. The teenager was beautiful, and naturally graceful, full of smiles and laughter as she talked with one of the other new girls, Carol something or other, while they warmed up. More than one instructor had approached the director over the week to sing the girl’s praises, gushing about how she had natural talent and the “it” factor. The big “ it ” Abigail had never had.

The woman in charge had raised one eyebrow at the Louis, insisting, “She has to pay her dues, whether she has ‘it’ or not.” More than a little bitter about the vetting process for prima ballerinas, the woman had been trying to change the automatic rise of the most gifted dancers, to the top of the heap. Why not give some of the others a chance? You never knew when you’d find a diamond in the rough, and she’d only wished someone would have given her the chance to prove herself. The man had simply shrugged at her, sure the woman would change her mind once she saw Gigi dance. She hadn’t. Or rather, she’d refused.

A few years later, during a performance of Giselle, the world famous Russian ballet dancer, Mikhail Baryshnikov, along with the rest of the NYCB audience, couldn’t help but notice Gigi during a pas seul, a solo dance Louis had fought for the prodigy to dance, passing over the other seasoned ballerinas in the corps. Louis had fought for three years to move Gigi up the ranks more quickly, and had finally taken matters into his own hands to give the girl her chance. He and Abigail had quarreled over Gigi being given the role, the head of the company threatening his career should he ever defy her directives about casting again.

After Gigi's five minute performance, the entire audience, including Mikhail, were left with a yearning for more. The star had insisted on meeting the performers after the show, and Abigail had ushered the handsome man behind the stage, talking up the leads in the show, introducing him to them first. Mikhail had been full of charisma and praise as he talked with the pair who played Giselle and her lover Albrecht, while his eyes searched the room for the tiny dancer who had stolen the show. The minute he laid eyes on her he politely excused himself to Abigail and the two leads, and made a beeline for young woman.

Gigi had been standing with Carol when Mister Baryshnikov had approached her, and both young women were speechless and awe struck as he introduced himself and began to sing Gigi’s praises, asking her question after question about her dance background and her position at the NYCB. He’d found Gigi to be humble, grateful for the opportunity to dance with her prestigious company, and she harbored no ill will and had no harsh words to say about her lowly position in the background of the company when he asked her if she wanted to move up the ranks. She’d confided to him she could only hope she was a good enough dancer to be a prima ballerina one day. It was clear she didn’t know the superiority of her own talent. Mikhail had found her absolutely enchanting, chuckling when the young dancer kept calling him “Mister Baryshnikov” over and over.

“Call me Misha, Gigi,” he had insisted as he handed her his business card, taking down her phone number promising, “I will be in touch.” He turned to walk away from the two young dancers, who could only nod and try to keep their jaws from hitting the ground. What he would be in touch about, Gigi had no idea, but she desperately hoped he'd call.

Mikhail had immediately made his way to the lobby, calling a colleague at his company, the American Ballet Theatre. “I’ve found the perfect partner for Yuri Sokolov,” he’d informed his friend. “She’s magic. Absolutely magic.”

The rest of Gigi and her husband's story was ballet history. A few months before the small town girls had arrived in New York, the ABT had enticed the young and very talented Yuri Sokolov to stay in New York and dance for their company after he’d come to America as part of an exchange program with Russia's Bolshoi Ballet. He was only nineteen years old, but had been dancing with the Bolshoi for two years, starting when he was still in high school. It was clear the young man had more talent in one big toe than all the other male dancers in the company put together, and his instructors groomed him for the position of lead dancer as soon as they’d recognized his talent.

There had only been one problem. Yuri was shorter than average, five foot six like his idol Mikhail Baryshnikov, and none of the ABT’s ballerinas “fit” him. The head of the company had lamented it may be impossible to find a girl who was the right fit for Yuri. She would need to be petite, and would need to physically compliment Yuri’s powerful frame. Mikhail knew, the moment Gigi danced into the center of the stage, he was looking at Yuri’s new partner. She was petite, and her muscles were long and lean, yet she was not so slight that Yuri's powerfully muscular frame would dwarf her.

The two young dancers had been introduced at Gigi’s try out for the American Ballet Theater. Mikhail had contacted her as promised, and had skirted around the word audition, inviting her to dance for him for a day at his company. She’d had no idea this was something very out of the ordinary. Yuri had been invited to the audition under the pretense they needed him to partner with a gifted dancer they were trying to entice into their company; someone Misha was considering for a role in his new ballet. The star had wanted to bring the two dancers together, without influencing or hindering their performance by telling them their day with him would be the deciding factor in whether he would pair them in his new ballet.

Gigi had felt like she was in heaven, when her idol had spent the first half of the day teaching her some new choreography. At first he’d worked with her one on one, and the young dancer had trembled with excitement in the man's arms, their close proximity and intimate positions making her swoon. He was so handsome, and sexy, and she'd never danced with a partner with Misha's level of experience, before. She'd felt like the virgin who was relying on her partner to show her the way the first time they made love. It had been so intimate and so beautiful.

After a light lunch, Mikhail had brought in Yuri to dance with her. She had been thrilled to meet the handsome young dancer with the Russian accent like Mikhail's, who she’d guessed was about her age. Working with him was less intimidating than working with one of the more accomplished ballerinos of the company, and would give her a break from the nervousness she had felt working with Misha.

Yuri had been patient and encouraging with the girl who had little experience dancing with a partner, and Gigi had found herself quickly syncing with him, easily understanding his body signals when he would shift her weight, pat her leg, position her arm gently with his hand, or lift her.

Mikhail had never seen anything like it. He’d found himself standing in the corner of the room, fascinated, as the pair danced, without much prodding or correction from him, to see how they would interpret his choreography. Yuri had learned to read the girl easily, and quickly learned how to move with her. It wasn’t long into the session, before Misha’s new ballerina had learned to read her partner as well, and she’d turned the tables here and there, stopping Yuri to instruct him, or let him feel her move, so he could consider how to compliment her within the guidelines their instructor had set. Within a few short hours, they had been the most beautiful poetry in motion, and Mikhail could see their brilliant future in the mirror in front of them.

Their mentor’s expectations had risen as the day went on, and he started to drive them harder, demanding perfection because he knew they could achieve it . "Again! ” he had ordered, snapping his fingers, and the pair would comply, listening to his instruction and fine tuning their dancing before he would immediately repeat, “Again!”, or “Do it over! You can do better!”, not cutting them any slack because time was running out.

At the seventh hour, both dancers were exhausted, physically showing signs of their fatigue, when two women and two men had walked into the room, greeting Mikhail and talking quietly with him while Yuri and Gigi grabbed a drink of water and a towel to dry off their necks and faces. “It's the director of the company, and three of the top instructors,” Yuri murmured to her. “They've come to see you dance. Misha wants you to dance one of the lead parts in his new ballet.” The young man had been totally unaware it was his audition as well.

Seeing the shock on her face, Yuri squeezed her hand, reassuring her gently, “You are amazing, Gigi. The most beautiful dancer I've ever seen. They'd have to be crazy not to love you.” Because I think I already do.You are perfection, he’d mused as Mikhail walked across the room towards them. The young man had no way of knowing Misha felt the same sense of awe about the young woman’s dancing.

The star had looked them over, reading the exhaustion on their bodies and faces. “One more time for me? Once more and you’re done,” he'd promised, reaching out to lay his hand on Gigi’s cheek as she’d nodded at him, smiling at the determination in her expression. She and Yuri had looked at each other, also nodding at one another in encouragement, confirming they could make it through one more run. “I know you can knock them dead!” their instructor had encouraged them.

They'd moved themselves into their starting positions at either end of the room, and their small audience had raised their eyebrows in surprise as the pair’s fatigue, which was palpable seconds before was suddenly gone, and they'd instantly transformed into two lovers who were longing for each other across the expanse. Misha's colleagues had been able to feel their energy and emotion, just as the star had. As she'd waited for the music to start, Gigi overheard Mikhail’s voice quietly raving to his four colleagues seated along one wall, “Wait until you see them. Better than even I could have ever imagined!” Her heart had just about burst at his words, inspiring her to give him her absolute best for their final run through.

Before they'd left the room that day, Gigi had been to be invited to join the American Ballet Theater, and to partner with Yuri for Mikhail’s new ballet, among other projects. It was an opportunity Gigi couldn’t turn down, and she’d accepted on the spot. Her contract with the NYCB was going to end the following month, and even though Louis had assured her it would be renewed, Gigi knew she’d found her true home in the ballet world after working for only one day with her magnificent tutor and her new partner. When their long day was finally over, Misha had called Louis Marchand, and thanked the man for inviting him, on the sly, to attend the performance of Giselle to check out the potential prima ballerina dancing the pas seul, who’d been languishing in the NYCB's corps. It wasn't until years later Mikhail had shared with Gigi the story of how Louis had helped him discover her.

Gigi had continued to live with Carol and her other friends from her original dance company while she’d rehearsed with Yuri and the rest of the ABT dancers. She needed to come home to their friendly faces, she’d told Carol after her first week of rehearsals, because the dancers in her new company were not very nice to the new girl who had unintentionally, repeatedly stepped on their toes. The women of the ABT corps were not only unhappy Gigi had stolen the coveted lead in Misha’s new ballet from one of their own. They were also unhappy she was stealing all of the attention of one of the greatest ballet dancers of all time, as well as the handsome, new, young Russian dancer they all wanted to bed.

It was unheard of for two novices to be granted the leads in such a prestigious project, but Misha had been sure the pair would not disappoint him. He was right. His new ballet had opened to rave reviews for both Mikhail’s modern choreography and for the new darlings of the ballet world. Gigi and Yuri had been a beautiful breath of fresh air for ballet aficionados looking for some new talent to follow. Natural talent, and the amazing chemistry between the two fledgling dancers had rocketed them into the limelight in the dance world. This had been helped along by a well crafted PR campaign spearheaded by Misha and the promotions department of the American Ballet Theatre, in an attempt to update ballet’s image, draw in a more varied audience, and hopefully increase revenue in the process. It had been a great success. Within a month of the opening, Abigail Masters had been asked to step down as director of the New York City Ballet, for having lost such an amazing talent to their competition. At the same time, Louis Marchand had accepted an offer to work with the ABT, personally invited by Misha Baryshnikov.

It was unusual for classical ballet dancers to have a following outside of the limited world of high society season ticket holders, and it was a feat which had only been accomplished by a few dancers before Yuri and Gigi, such as Nureyev and even more so, by Baryshnikov. Like their predecessors, Yuri and Gigi were not only loved in the world of classical dance, but also in the fringe of pop culture.

It was no surprise to anyone when the pair had fallen in love. Their wedding, which had taken place two years after they had first partnered, had been celebrated in both the Russian and American news.

The husband and wife team had lived a dream life, before their perfect world had come crashing down around them.

_________

“Gawd, that woman is a bitch,” Grandma Flo lamented about Yuri’s mother, the word “bitch” pronounced with two syllables. Gigi had walked over to hug her after she’d put Natalia in her place and skirted over to her Alabama relatives who were camped in one corner of the tent, most of them not comfortable mingling with the ballet set.

“Mama, be nice!” Estelle chided, giggling at her mother’s honesty. She really did not care for Natalia at all, and didn’t know how Gigi had put up with all the years of passive aggressive insults. She knew her daughter had often bitten her tongue at Natalia’s nasty remarks, and she wondered, now that Yuri was gone, whether Gigi would still feel the need to temper her words.

“Where’s that handsome Russian fella?” Grandma Flo asked as she pulled another cigarette out of her favorite red velvet clutch purse, ignoring Estelle’s scolding about Gigi’s mother in law. “The one who danced with me at your weddin’.”

“Misha?” Gigi chuckled at the question. Her grandmother was unaware of the notoriety of the man who had made her weak in the knees when he gracefully whisked the woman around the dance floor at her wedding reception years ago. Flo could have cared less who he was. She simply thought he was a “divahhn” waltzer, and was impressed he actually knew how to dance the Lindy. “He’s making his rounds, grandma. I’m sure he’ll come over and say hi as soon as he has the chance. You know he always asks about you.”

Kissing the elderly woman on the cheek, she squeezed her mother’s arm and winked at her dad. Leaving her relatives in the corner of the tent, she moved back out into the crowd, ready to mingle, having regrouped within the comfort of her people for a few minutes. What she didn't tell her grandmother, was she'd actually been avoiding Mikhail, knowing she would likely lose it when she finally was near his comforting presence. He was like family to both her and Yuri, the one person at the wake who really knew the ballerina was hiding her devastation, refusing to deal with it head on, because he’d called her every day since her husband had passed, to check on her. She was afraid she would crumble if Misha turned his eye her way, because she would be safe to do so with him. He seemed to know this as well, and had walked wide circles around her at both the funeral and the wake, only approaching her for a few seconds in the line of attendees expressing their condolences as they had left the church, for a kiss on the cheek and a brief hug. She couldn’t stop the quiet whimper she had breathed in his ear as he hugged her, and in response she'd felt his hand squeeze her waist as he whispered into her ear, “I’ll find you later, malyshka.” Baby girl. It had been his Russian nickname for her from the first time he worked with her, long before the term became popular with the teens and twenty somethings in more recent years.

One of Yuri’s long time fellow dancers at the ABT stood up from his table under the tent to propose a toast to Gigi’s husband, telling the story of how he and Yuri had met years ago, and lauding his friend as both a stunning dancer and a goodhearted man; a man who was devastated when he could no longer dance. Who among you, he appealed to the other dancers in attendance, wouldn’t understand Yuri’s state of mind? How must Gigi feel in this moment, to lose her partner in dance and in life? The man was the first of a few dozen people to stand and offer praise, readings, or fond memories of time spent with the man who had died in such a heart wrenching, tragic way. Many of the stories about Yuri’s life included Gigi, because to talk of Yuri was to talk of his greatest love, since they were like one and the same person, complimenting each other both in dance and in life.

Gigi smiled, shed tears, and laughed at the many stories shared by her and Yuri’s friends and family, and the emotions she’d been trying to keep in check for several days bubbled closer to her surface and threatened to spill over in a torrent she knew would be hard regain control of if it broke loose. She was grateful when the last person finished their speech, and people started to talk among themselves again, or head to the bar for another drink, giving her the opportunity to steal away into the house for a moment alone. She felt like she couldn’t move fast enough as she failed in her attempt to keep tears from forming in her eyes. She ran up the steps, across the second story deck and through the sliding patio doors, dismayed to find a dozen people had congregated in the large kitchen on the left and the large, open family room to its right, inside the doors. She desperately needed to be alone.

Gigi could only imagine how she looked to her friends as she avoided eye contact with them and raced down the hall to the master bedroom, shutting the door behind her as she ignored someone calling her name in an attempt to ask if she was okay. Bolting across the carpet in the empty room, she rushed into the master bathroom and shut the door, compelled to move as far away from everyone as possible and hide. She even went as far as to step into the large walk in shower and slide the glass doors closed, collapsing against the cool tile and sliding down to sit on the floor. Covering her mouth with both hands, she tried to stifle the cries which she had tried so hard to keep inside her for the last several days, but they wouldn’t be deterred any longer and she sobbed into her hands and her knees as she pulled them to her chest, trying to be as quiet as possible.

“Malyshka,” Mikhail was suddenly there, kneeling next to her in the shower for a moment, and finally sitting in front of her and pulling her onto his lap with one arm under her knees and one behind her back, as if she were light as a feather. Pulling her head into his neck, he quietly comforted her as she let her tumultuous emotions play out.

Misha knew his ballerina well, and as he expected, she didn’t wallow in her grief for long, quieting after only a few minutes. Pulling a handkerchief from his jacket pocket, he wiped at her tears, then held it under her nose so she could blow it. After wiping it for her, he tucked the cloth back in his jacket pocket as they both huffed a laugh at the situation and their comfort level with each other.

“You always did take such good care of me,” Gigi praised him with a smile when she finally calmed.

“I had to,” he confessed. “You were always so busy taking care of Yuri, and everyone else, you never took the time to take care of yourself.” He pulled back to look in her eye and brushed some hair off her forehead before he murmured with a wink, “Are you finished feeling sorry for yourself now?”

She nodded at him with a grin, knowing he was teasing her, and moved from his lap to stand up. They laughed once more, this time over sharing her awkward bathroom hiding spot.

“Thank you, Misha,” Gigi hugged her friend once more after they walked back into the master bedroom towards the french doors which also lead out onto the second story deck, on the opposite end from the kitchen sliders. She stopped to pull him into a tight hug, and then pulled back to kiss him on the cheek, grateful he was there to support her and save her in her time of need. He patted her cheek, and kissed her on the forehead, giving her one more hug before he pulled away.

“Well that didn’t take you long,” Natalia’s voice startled Gigi as it rebuked her from the other side of the french doors. Her mother in law and the woman’s best friend were staring at the two dancers from the deck, their disapproval of the pair’s close proximity and Mikhail’s show of affection evident on their faces. “Already found yourself another man to take care of you?”

Shaking his head with a growl of frustration, Mikhail started towards the door to go out and give the woman a piece of his mind, his anger evident on his face. Gigi stopped him with a gentle touch of her fingertips to his chest murmuring for only him to hear, “Don’t bother, Misha, I don’t pay attention to her ugly remarks, and you shouldn’t either. She’s not worth the aggravation.” She goaded her mother in law by throwing her arms around his shoulders and pulling him in for one more hug ignoring their audience. “Thank you again for being such a comfort to me today, and for being such a good friend to both Yuri and me over the years. He would be pleased you’re here today,” she confided. “And I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Gigi may have been provoking the woman on the other side of the glass, but her friend knew her words to him were genuine, and he smiled at her and nodded before planting one more kiss on her forehead. He couldn’t help but chuckle at her spunk in dealing with the woman who he knew had always been hard on her daughter in law. He had heard the stories from Yuri, who had always been disappointed his mother hadn’t tried harder to get along with the wife he adored. His ballerina was such a kind soul, he knew the woman’s words had made her angry, because Gigi’s dig at her mother in law was so unlike her.

__________________

After saying goodbye to Misha, who had to leave to catch a plane back to New York, Gigi stewed about Natalia’s remarks, her anger festering as she made her way back out into the kitchen after freshening herself up at the master bathroom sink.

She hid her upset, chatting with some friends from the NYCB while she picked up a few empty glasses which had been left on the island in the kitchen, and put them in the sink. Glancing out the window above the faucet as she worked, she looked out over the deck and down into the tent. Seeing the party was still in full swing, she shook her head with a smirk, steeling herself for another few hours of socializing, knowing she could push through it.

The sound of a doorbell suddenly filled the air, a sound she was hearing for the first time in her new home. Making her way to the front door, she opened it to find a man she recognized from Dale’s funeral standing outside, an annoyed look on his face. Realizing it must be her new neighbor, she started to muster a smile for him, but it quickly faded when he didn’t bother to greet her, but started complaining to her instead.

“Hey doll, I hate to interrupt your housewarming party, but the parking situation is getting out of control in front of my place. I almost clipped my front bumper on the idiot’s car who’s blocking my driveway.” He motioned to his shiny black Dodge Charger with a dramatic swing of his arm. The car was parked at the end of his drive, as if he was so put off by the near miss he had to jump out of his precious muscle car immediately and come over to complain to her about it. He was right the cars were parked bumper to bumper all the way down their winding road, but the foot of bumper in front of one side of his double driveway nowhere near qualified as blocking it.

Gigi stared the man for a moment, shocked at the way he was talking to her, and then stepped through the door to stand outside with him, pulling the front door to the frame in the hopes her guests inside wouldn’t overhear his complaints.

“And another thing,” he continued, ignoring her eyebrows, which had quickly raised into her hairline, “I spend a lot of time and effort making sure my yard looks nice, and I came home yesterday afternoon to find your huge f*cking tent stakes tearing up my nicely manicured lawn! I planted that little tree, now under your huge ass tent, on the dividing line between our properties for this very reason. I knew someone was going to move in here and f*ck up my landscaping! And no doubt your million and a half party guests have mangled my expensive Japanese Maple tree!”

His melodramatic, indignant tone of voice would have been comical if he wasn’t making her more angry by the second with his attitude and his foul mouth. “Excuse me?” Gigi looked at him incredulously. She was absolutely appalled he would curse at her, when he didn’t even know her. So disrespectful. What a jerk!

Negan continued his rant, enjoying the shock on the features of the tiny woman in front of him. She had her arms crossed in front of her, one foot forward, toes pointing slightly outward towards him. What’s with the pointy f*cking toes? He had a good foot or more on her in height, at six foot two, so he leaned towards her, to see if she’d stand her ground or whether she’d cower under his glare. It was one of his favorite ways of sizing people up, of testing them, and this woman would be no exception. She was a pretty little thing, with her big brown eyes and full lips, and he was getting a kick out of watching the tension wash over her as he riled her up, even while he was f*cking pissed at her f*cking nuisance of a party. While I’m thinking about it, if she was going to have a f*cking house warming party, wouldn’t it be the right f*cking thing to do to invite your new f*cking neighbor? Screw you, lady. I wouldn't have come to your sorry f*cking party anyway.

“And while I have you,” he just couldn’t help himself but go on after she opened her mouth again to speak and nothing came out, he had her so flabbergasted. “Have you stopped at all to think about the fact you settled on this house three months ago, and you haven’t come around at all to cut your own grass? I got sick of looking at the f*cking overgrowth, and have been cutting it myself, so I think some thanks are in order!”

He has got to be kidding, Gigi fumed. Everything which had happened over the last several days and the last few hours, along with her new neighbor’s list of mean spirited complaints finally pushed Gigi over the edge. She took two steps into the jerk’s space, trying to keep fresh tears from falling, and tilted her head back so she was looking up at his bearded chin, right into his nostrils. She mulled over the fact he smelled nice for all of two seconds, then she let loose on him. “Look ... pal, I’m really sorry if my husband’s wake is an inconvenience for you,” she started in a surprisingly calm tone of voice.

Negan smirked at her as she started her tirade. Pal? Am I supposed to be offended? That the best you’ve got lady? He wanted to laugh out loud at her not so nasty name calling, but settled on giving her a condescending smirk as she continued.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t think to pay to have valet service for the day when I was arranging his funeral, a wake for a hundred and eighty two guests, and trying to figure out my entire future without him!” She counted off her list of to do’s with her index finger on the fingers of her opposite hand, leaning into him to emphasize the last of her points. Her calm disappeared as her own words hit her. She would be spending the rest of her life without Yuri.

Wake? Oh, f*ck. Now all the people in black makes sense. I just thought it was some sort of f*cking emo get together. I mean, Dale did say they were artsy. Don’t all those sorts of f*cking freaks hang out together? It was an honest mistake, for f*ck’s sake. Look at this one, co*cking her head at me all pissy like. That sh*t just tickles my balls. Go, Tiny!

Gigi continued her rant, the volume of her voice increasing dramatically as it went on. “And I’m so sorry you’ve been inconvenienced by having to help your new neighbor and her physically handicapped husband by mowing their lawn, what ... once a week, for the last few months?” Gigi choked on her words, her voice full of emotion. “Feel free to send me a bill for your services!” Gigi felt absolutely hateful spewing her wrath at the man in front of her, but she couldn’t stop herself. Turning to storm away from him, she walked through the front door and turned back to look at him, slightly satisfied at the furrow between his eyebrows as he squinted at her, like she’d caught him off guard. “Oh, and by the way, if your precious Japanese Maple turns out to be damaged, feel free to send me a bill for that, too, because I wouldn’t want my husband’s memorial to cause you any further torment or trouble.” Absolutely livid at his attitude and his complaints, as well as his stupid squinty eyes, she slammed the front door closed on him. Gigi leaned on the inside of the door, wide eyed, appalled at her own lack of self control in front of the man whom she hardly knew.

“Oh, you better believe I will, darlin’! ” she heard him call through the closed door. Maybe I shouldn’t be so appalled at myself , Gigi fumed in response, growling in frustration as she walked back into the kitchen to pour herself her first glass of wine, of several. Jerk!

Chapter 3: Ya Hear There's A New Cheerleading Coach?

Chapter Text

At Mount Vernon High School, like every other high school in the United States, football tryouts and practice began in early August, so players would be chosen, drilled and ready for their first game right after school started. This year, Mount Vernon’s coach was hyped to get back into the swing of things. He’d spent the summer mourning his wife, and he needed a distraction from his loss. He'd assured Lucille before she died, he'd be fine when things settled after she passed, and he was wondering when the f*ck things would feel settled. He’d had no f*cking clue how much he would miss her, when they'd had the discussion. The widower had putzed around his house for the previous few months, doing some long overdue fixer upper projects, and spent the rest of his time missing his wife and feeling a little f*cking sorry for himself, because he had every f*cking right to do so.

“You need to get back in the swing of things, man,” Merle prodded Negan during their homespun version of Friday happy hour. They could drink until they passed out, and didn’t have to worry about driving home from a bar afterwards because happy hour was at the football coach’s house, where anyone was welcome to crash on the couch or the floor, if needed. When Lucille was alive she’d insisted Negan’s friends not drink and drive, and had often awakened on a Saturday morning to find Merle, Simon, and sometimes one or two of the other Mount Vernon coaches passed out in her house or on her property. “Come on out ta the bars with me. You need to find yourself some puss* to help you forget your troubles.”

Negan took a swig of his beer as they sat on his deck looking out at the water, bullsh*tting about the start of tryouts on Monday. Maybe it is time for a good piece of ass. Maybe that’ll snap me out of this funk. He didn’t know, though, if the women who hung out at Merle’s favorite bar, The Kozy Keg, were what he’d be looking for in a one night stand. They all had high hair, which was a big no on Lucille’s wish list for him, and he wasn’t crazy about the feel of lacquer laden bleach blonde hair fisted in his grasp as a woman gave him a blow j*b. Call me a f*cking snob. Maybe I'm not f*cking ready for a new piece of ass. I still miss my old piece of ass. Jesus, man, you don’t have to marry them. Just get your ass laid, for f*ck’s sake. “Maybe,” he nodded, appeasing the man. “Let me get through the first week of tryouts.”

“Ya hear there’s a new cheerleading coach?” Merle asked him. “I’m waitin' to catch a glimpse of that action. Hopin’ she’s hot. Need some new ass to oggle while I’m workin’.”

“What'd you hear about her?” the football coach asked him. Merle was the go to for important information about any and all goings on at Mount Vernon. As groundskeeper, he always seemed to be in the right place at the right time, hiding in the shadows to overhear the most intimate conversations between, teachers, the administration or students. If the coach needed the scoop on something, Merle Dixon was the man with the answers. He liked to think he was stealthy, like a CIA agent or a spy. Negan had informed him he was just f*cking nosy. “I heard Jenna Daniels was five months along when school let out in June, so no doubt she’s not up for jumping her pregnant ass around on my football field now, with her cheerleaders,” Negan chuckled, then cringed at the thought. “That would be a f*cking sight.” He had never liked the woman. They were always butting heads over who had first rights to his field for after school practice. Cheerleading practice is a f*cking pain in my ass. Jenna had been f*cking delusional, because football took priority over every f*cking thing, in his mind. His team was always one of the top three in the state, which gave him the right to anything and everything he needed to keep them there. He didn’t give a sh*t if her squad usually ranked in the top twenty at nationals, because it didn’t mean dick compared to his football team’s rankings.

“The new coach is also teaching the dance classes, and Walkin' Fer Wellness. She’s friends with Carol Peletier,” Merle filled him in. “Got her buddy the job. Put a good word in with Grimes.”

“Carol? The Home Economics teacher who makes the pink cookies? She seems okay,” Negan hadn’t really talked to the mousey woman much since she’d started at the school two years before. She was a quiet, meek thing, definitely not the type of person he’d normally hang out with. He liked the awesome f*cking butter cookies she was always handing out, though, even if they were pink.

“She’s fine, but her husband’s a dick. I don’t like him one lick. Total ass hat. I think he smacks her around,” his friend scowled as he got lost in concentrating on picking at the label of his beer for a few moments before he came back to the subject of the new cheerleading coach. “She said they used to dance together or some sh*t like that, back before she got knocked up and had ta get married.”

Ignoring Merle’s information about the two women’s history, the coach questioned, “How do you know he smacks her around?” Negan had no tolerance for men who abused women in any way shape or form, having grown up watching his father belittle his mother and push her around, physically. It was something he and the school’s groundskeeper had in common, something they never talked about after it had come up when they were sh*tfaced and pouring out their deepest darkest intoxicated secrets one night a few years before, over vodka shots at The Kozy Keg.

After seven shots, Merle had shared he and his brother Daryl, had been regularly beaten by their habitually drunken father when they were growing up. “Daryl got the worst of it though, since he was the baby,” Merle told him, pronouncing his brother’s name as if it rhymed with his own. “Once momma died, the f*cker started kickin' at the other helpless puppy in the house, because I was taller’n him and he knew I'd fight back. I couldn’t stop him, hard as I tried.” Negan could hear the regret in the man’s voice as he rambled on. “When I’d try and get in the middle of one of Pop’s ragers, to take the focus off Daryl, he’d just go after 'im harder, and Daryl would pay the price. So I had ta stop tryin' to save him. Felt like sh*t, man, standing by and watching him take a beatin'. I’d just try to make sure he was okay when it was over.” Shaking his head he admitted, “It’s not surprisin’ we didn’t shed a single f*ckin' tear when the asshole died a few years ago.”

Negan had stared at his buddy for several seconds before he lamented, “Jesus. I thought I had it bad watching my dad berate my mother all the time.” He was quiet for several seconds before he shared, “And beat me down, verbally.” He'd shaken off the importance of the effect his father had on him, offering, “But my dad sounds like a f*cking saint compared to yours.” Downing his next shot of vodka, he'd looked around the bar, avoiding eye contact with Merle, feeling as if he was a f*cking puss* for thinking his life growing up had been bad. He obviously didn’t know bad.

Poking a drunken finger into his drinking buddy’s arm to demand his attention, Merle had glared at his friend as he'd admonished, “No, man! It ain’t about how hard they hit ya. It’s about how they tear you down, up here! ” He’d poked himself in the temple clumsily with the index finger of the hand holding his shot glass, making some of the liquid slosh out and run down the back of his hand. “It’s about how they make ya feel like your worthless ass deserves it. Like they’re doing the world a favor by keeping ya in line!”

Negan had only stared at him, nodding minutely because Merle was right. That was exactly how his father made him feel. The subject of their fathers never came up again, but it was from that point on the coach referred to Merle as his spirit animal, because “we just f*cking understand each other’s obnoxious asses,” he’d enlightened an amused Lucille after he’d come home the night of their macho bar top epiphany. Merle was like the brother he’d never f*cking had.

“Haven’t you watched her?” Merle answered Negan’s question about Carol’s husband with another question. “She looks like she’s afraid a her own damn shadow. If you get too close to her, she flinches. Just like my mom used to do. Just like Daryl still does.”

Just like my mom used to do, too. The rage Negan felt at the thought of the woman’s husband abusing her was hard to quell, and his friend could read it all over him. “May as well let it go, brother. There’s nothing you can do about it. She's the only one who can make the decision to leave.”

“He just better not cross my f*cking path.” Negan threatened in response, the injustice eating at him.

Movement in the yard next door caught Negan’s eye, then Merle’s, and both men watched as the coach’s next door neighbor walked through the yard to the dock, a towel draped over her shoulder.

“What the hell's she wearing?” Merle murmured to his friend, reaching behind him to a set of shelves against the wall of the house to grab the pair of binoculars which were always perched there. He needed a better view of the mighty fine ass walking towards the water.

“Take a good look my friend. You’ll get a f*cking eye full!” Negan exuberantly whispered, even though she was far enough away he was unlikely to be overheard.

His initial contact with the woman the month before was more than a little f*cking unpleasant thanks to her going the f*ck off on him when she was in the wrong, wake or no wake, and it had left him with a strange sense of both anger and guilt when it was over. The guilt wasn’t something he’d experienced often, but he was sure it was probably because she turned on her f*cking waterworks over nothing. He was maybe, almost a little bit sorry for how things went down, and was actually surprised he felt like he should try to make amends. So naturally he’d avoided her like the plague ever since. They could live side by side without ever talking again, couldn’t they?

The groan coming from the chair next to him snapped him out of his thoughts, and he turned to his lecherous friend and grabbed the binoculars from his hands. “Oh, yeah,” Negan murmured as he honed in on her. “She’s wearing my favorite f*cking swimwear today!” She had a couple of different get ups she wore for her daily swim at precisely five p.m. every day, but today’s ensemble gave him a hard on every time he saw her in it. f*ck her.

She was wearing some kind of black swim trunks or bottoms, or whatever the f*ck they were, which were cut like short-shorts. They were full coverage in the front, but barely covered her pretty little ass in the back, the spandex fabric detailing a f*ck ton of her well defined glutes. Her short legs had the illusion of looking long and lean due to the sinew of the muscles in her thighs and calves, which also worked him the f*ck up every time he saw them. She wore a colorful sports bra, tank top sort of thing, which was cut right off right below her her tiny little titt*es and looked like it would take a crowbar to get it off due to the thick spandex fabric digging into her skin below her boobs and around the armholes, meant to stay in place during a high intensity work out. The inches of abs between her top and bottoms were well toned, as were her arms. It all screamed athleticism, which seemed out of place considering her every movement was feminine and graceful, from her fingers to her toes. She even stood gracefully, shoulders back, neck seemingly extended, chin slightly raised, and she always automatically extended her right foot out a bit in front of her, pointed slightly outward. What the f*ck is that about? f*ck her and her stupid pointed toes he thought, reminding himself he didn’t like her. He couldn't help but wonder how she’d injured her knee, which was always wrapped tightly in a flesh colored, elastic ace bandage when she swam each day, and whether the wrap was temporary or permanent since she’d been wearing it for over a month.

“More than a mouthful’s a waste, I say!” Merle mumbled as he stared at the woman. He had pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, opened the camera app, and was using two fingers to zoom in on his subject at the end of the dock, since the binoculars he’d been using to look at her fine ass had been purloined. He may have even taken a few photos of it to add to his spank bank, because he was a man who loved him some ass.

As he looked through the binoculars, Negan’s hand reached blindly into the air next to him to high five his friend in response to his incredibly wise statement, because he, too, loved little titt*es. Each size had its advantages. Advantages he, Simon and Merle had discussed many times over beer. Tiny tit* were his absolute f*cking favorite, though. Always had been. He f*cking loved the feeling of them dwarfed under his hand, or sucking one all the way into his mouth. You couldn't do that with big boobs.

“You think her nipples are tiny, too? Or you think she has some major areola going on ta balance out those tinies?” Merle continued mindlessly as he observed her, reaching over with his empty hand to smack his friend's palm.

Negan hummed in consideration of the question, turning his focus back to his neighbor as she bent over to drop her towel on the dock. Why the f*ck he was so interested in her every movement when he didn't even like her, he'd never know, but his sorry ass had been coming out to sit on the deck or work in the yard every day at this time, ever since he'd figured out she swam every weekday, precisely at five. It's because she has a premium, class A f*cking body, you moron.

He and Merle both breathed out an “Oooh,” when she put her index fingers up into the bottom of the back of her trunks and pulled them lower on her cheeks as she stood back up, giving them a momentary glimpse of even more ass. “f*ck me … I think I saw crack,” Negan's voice was full of wonder as he reported his sighting.

"I know I saw ass crack!” the groundskeeper confirmed, grabbing his family jewels on the outside of his pants firmly and shaking them. “Down, boy!”

While the phys ed teacher could appreciate their athleticism, he’d never paid much attention to ballet dancers, since the pastime seemed to be full of girly men and uptight looking chicks who lived with their noses in the air. He just couldn’t see the f*cking point. The few minutes of The Nutcracker he’d watched with Lucille one Christmas on television when they were in college had put him to sleep almost instantly. He’d never watched ballet again. Looking at the lithe, muscular woman on the dock, he nodded his head in appreciation of the serious f*cking workouts it must take to maintain her physique. She was a f*cking pint-sized powerhouse.

Damn, man! It’s a shame ya lost yer chance with that one when you barged in on her wake ta bitch about yer landscapin',” his friend teased, letting out a cackle.

“f*ck you, Merle,” Negan bit at him, watching, mesmerized as the lost chance in question dove off the dock and began the butterfly stroke, cutting a path through their inlet towards the mouth of the Potomac River, a half mile to the west.

“I don’t know. Now that I think about it,” Merle backtracked, “hot as she is, I don’t know if I wanna bump uglies with a woman who’s more muscular'n I am.” The magnitude of his dilemma was evident in his voice.

“I hear you,” Negan genuinely validated him. “But I’d definitely f*ck her if she wasn’t such a goddamn pain in the ass, because that toned body is a f*ck ton of hot.” He chuckled as Merle missed his lips with his bottle of beer, too caught up in watching the woman on his phone to aim properly, and had to try again.

“She can’t be all bad, amigo, if she paid ta have landscapers come out and fill in the divots created by her big ass party tent and have them brace yer sorry ass maple tree after her people mangled it.” He gestured to the tree with his beer bottle. The thing had more than slightly resembled Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree, even before the party next door had mangled one of the main branches.

“It was the least she could f*cking do,” the coach insisted, focusing his binoculars with the ring in the middle, trying to get a better look at his neighbor's ass in motion as it came up out of the water with each stroke.

“And was it the least she could do ta have her kid mow your grass, along with hers every week for the rest of the summer because you complained about taking care of hers fer a few months?” the redneck admonished, shaking his head as he clicked his tongue in feigned disappointment. “Poor, hot little piece just lost her cripple of a husband and she’s still makin’ sure she pays you back 'cause you bitched at her about havin’ ta mow her grass a few times.”

“You are so f*cking crass, you goddamn asshole. He was physically handicapped! Drag your ass into the new f*cking millenium.”

“Whatever, man. Don’t try and change the subject. It just strikes ‘ol Merle she ain’t as bad as ya make her out to be. I think she caught the almighty Coach Negan off guard when she refused ta take yer sh*t from ya and then turned around and put ya in yer place,” the man drawled with a grin.

"f*ck you, Merle.”

___________

As Gigi swam freestyle back towards the dock at minute twenty eight of her workout, she thanked her lucky stars for her friend Dale’s generosity. She loved the water, and found the sound of it, and her daily swims very calming. With her knee injury, swimming was the best high intensity, low impact way for to burn calories and maintain muscle, since the injury prevented her from dancing enough to keep in shape.

She frowned at the thought as she climbed the ladder onto the dock behind her house at exactly thirty minutes after she dove off the dock to start. Running her hands from her forehead, over the top of her head and down, she pushed excess water out of her shoulder length hair before she twisted her waves and curls with her hands to further ring it out, finally putting her towel over her shoulders and turning to walk up the yard.

Gigi tried not to be obvious as she glanced at the house to the right of hers, to see if her cranky neighbor was sitting on his deck or out in his yard, as he was just about every day at this time. As always he was outside, sitting at the patio table on his deck, drinking a beer, while a man she hadn’t seen before leaned on the railing closest to her yard, watching her walk towards her house. She groaned inwardly when her furtive glance wasn’t as furtive as she’d thought, and the man at the railing caught her eye and smiled at her, raising his beer bottle in greeting.

“Hey, neighbor! How’s the water?” he called to her. Gigi kept her eyes on his as her actual neighbor picked up a pair of binoculars from the table next to him and looked out over the water, seemingly disinterested in his friend’s conversation with her.

She smiled back at the man at the railing, answering, “Feels amazing! So warm. Current’s a little rough today, though!”

“I’m surprised that water doesn’t just part right down the middle for your heavenly body, darlin’.”

Gigi couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the man’s over the top compliment, shaking her head at him as she climbed the steps up to her second story deck.

He joined in with her laughter, knowing he was laying it on thick, and introduced himself, “I’m Merle. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

What a charmer, this one was. He seemed harmless enough, though, and she didn't want to seem unfriendly, even if his friend was a jerk. “Gigi!” she called back to him as she slid aside the screen door, then pushed open one of the french doors leading into her bedroom. She waved goodbye to the man before she stepped inside calling, “It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

“Oh, no, Gigi,” he returned, over enunciating her genteel French name as she smiled back at him, “the pleasure is all mine!” Merle could hear her soft laughter floating on the breeze as she disappeared. Turning to Negan, he declared, “She definitely wants me.”

__________

Have You Always Wanted To Be A Cheerleader,

But Were Afraid To Try Out?

Male, Female, Freshman through Senior classes, tons of experience or none at all - Everyone is welcome!

If you are interested, the new coach wants to see you on Friday, August 7th at 9:00 a.m. for tryouts. Bring your comfy clothes and tennis shoes and be ready to strut your stuff!

Varsity and Junior Varsity squad positions, as well as Captain and Co Captain positions need to be filled!

The try out routine is now posted on Mt Vernon’s website - Please come prepared to perform the routine IN FULL .

“She has got to be kidding!” Penny Blake screeched at her friend Frankie via FaceTime as she read the flyer she had received in the mail. “Look!” She turned the paper and held it in front of her phone screen so Frankie could see it.

“What?” Frankie shrieked in return, her nose to the phone to read the ridiculous flyer. “The bitch obviously doesn’t know how things work at Mount Vernon!”

“She has to have heard I’ve been captain of the cheerleading squad for the last two years!” Penny fumed. “She can’t just open up the position for someone else!”

“What about me?” Frankie countered. “What about my co captain position? She can’t just give that away, too!”

“If she thinks she can get away with this, she’s kidding herself. Who does she think she is ?” Penny ignored Frankie’s question, because her best friend’s position of co-captain was nowhere near as important as her own position as captain.

“Right! Who the hell does she think she is?” the other girl repeated, validating her.

____________

“Kid’s got a good arm,” Merle observed as he watched a group of boys tossing a football back and forth on the lawn. They had barreled out of the house next door in their bathing suits soon after his new friend Gigi had disappeared inside, shoving each other off the dock into the water and swimming for a while before they spread out on the grass and started seriously throwing a football to each other.

“Who?” Negan inquired over his shoulder as he turned some steaks on the grill behind his friend.

“Kid with the dark hair and the blue tee shirt.”

The coach turned around, curious as to who and what his friend was talking about. He joined Merle at the railing, handing the man another beer to replace his almost empty one, watching the teenagers tossing the football. He immediately honed in on two of the five boys who could actually throw the ball. One of the two, the boy Merle pointed out, lived next door, the other he hadn’t seen before. His neighbor tossed the ball, with a damn good spiral, and the two men watched as one of the other boys called instructions to him before tossing the ball back for him to try again.

“Put a little more air between your palm and the ball!” Negan called out to him, holding up his hand to demonstrate, “And keep your free arm closer to your body as you throw!”

Marshall looked up at him, co*cking his head to one side, not sure if he should pay attention to the guy next door who had his made his Aunt Gigi cry. She had warned him and Hannah to make sure they stayed on their own side of the dock and yard so they wouldn’t make him mad, telling them the man was really mean. His first instinct was to tell the man to f*ck off.

“You giving me the stink eye, kid?” Negan was brought up in a household where you were taught to always respect your elders, and speak when you were spoken to. He had no patience for a teenager with an attitude. “You gonna just stand there and look at me, or do you want to learn how to throw the f*cking ball?” Without looking at Merle beside him, he handed him the grilling tongs and walked down the deck’s steps toward the group. He almost laughed out loud when the kid started to bristle, waiting for a fight, not sure what to make of the situation.

Walking right into the teen’s space, smirking at him the entire time, Negan reached out and popped the football out of the boys hand with his fingertips, and into his own. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Marshall,” Gigi’s nephew really didn’t know what to make of his neighbor, so simply looked at him wide eyed.

“Marshall, you have to put more space between your palm and the ball,” Negan started to reiterate the instructions he’d called out from above, demonstrating how to hold the ball with his fingertips. “One or two of your fingers should be on the laces, your index finger about here.” He tapped the ball with his own index finger to show the boy the correct placement, then tossed the ball back to him.

What the man was telling him made sense, so Marshall let his guard down and shifted the ball to his right hand. Nervous with his neighbor watching him, the teen positioned the ball as he’d been shown. “Like this?”

“Exactly,” Negan praised with a smile. “Now, when you throw the ball, keep your left arm closer to your body. Otherwise, you end up tossing more from the side, and the ball will stay low.” Taking the ball back, he demonstrated the difference between positioning his left arm close to his side, explaining the ball would fly higher and further if he pulled his arm into his body. “Go ahead, try it,” he ordered, giving him the ball.

Marshall glanced at him warily, positioned the ball in his hand as he’d been shown and then threw it to one of his friends across the yard, making sure to position his free arm correctly and follow through the way the man had shown him. The ball flew through the air with a beautiful spiral.

When it had flown halfway across the yard, the coach yelled, “Go long!” to the frizzy haired kid across the yard, who was on the receiving end of the toss, because the ball was going to go right over his head if he didn’t. The whole group laughed when he was so intent on the ball, he fell over a bush as he leapt to catch it. An arm holding the football popped up from behind the bush, as a muffled voice yelled, “Caught it!”

“Beautiful f*cking throw, man!” Negan turned to Marshall, grabbing him by the shoulder and shaking him roughly in celebration. “What’s the loser’s name?” he joked, jerking his chin across the yard at the teen dragging himself out from behind the bush.

“Julian,” Marshall replied, laughing.

“Julian! Get your sorry ass back into position and throw me the f*cking ball!” Negan smiled as all of the boys cracked up at his order. “Show me what I just taught Marshall!”

__________

Freshly showered, Gigi made her way from the front door to the kitchen table balancing the four extra large pizza boxes with her salad in a plastic container on top in one hand, while she carried the bag with three big bottles of soda in her other hand. She decided to take the food for Marshall and his friends out to the table on the deck, so they could eat outside. They didn’t seem to care the August humidity was stifling. Juggling dinner, she managed to push open the sliding doors to the left of the kitchen with her elbow and make her way onto the deck, smiling at the sound of the boys laughing and hollering to each other in the backyard.

“What the f*ck, Dylan! Get your damned ass in gear! Block Merle, so he doesn’t catch my f*cking ass!” she frowned at the sound of the familiar voice spewing obscenities, then more peals of laughter from the group below.

“Yeah, what the f*ck Dylan! Get your damned ass in gear!” She recognized the sound of Marshall’s friend Matt parroting the order, the group laughing again in response.

Not able to see the kids from her position on the second floor deck, she moved to the railing to see what was going on. She took in the scene, quickly discerning there was a touch football game in progress. Her neighbor and his friend Merle, were split onto different teams, Marshall and two of his friends playing with her neighbor, and her new friend Merle playing with three of Marshall’s other friends. Marshall had the ball in hand as two of his teammates blocked the opposition, while her neighbor sprinted from her yard to the far side of his own at an impressive pace, Julian trying unsuccessfully to catch him. The man suddenly turned back to face the other players, his eyes searching for Marshall in the fray. Her nephew threw the football right to him from his spot in her yard, and the receiver reached his long arms forward in front of him, to catch it as it rocketed towards him, pulling it into his stomach. He let out a victorious yell as he jumped up and down enthusiastically in their makeshift end zone, slamming the football into the ground. Marshall, Dylan and Matt danced a victory dance in celebration, arms in the air, while Merle and his three teammates booed. All of the players were covered in perspiration despite the boys playing in their swimsuits, the two men lifting up the hem of their shirts to wipe their faces and necks.

Spotting their audience of one up on the deck, Marshall called out, “Hey, Aunt Gigi! We won!”

“I saw!” she smiled at him, glad he was having a good time. Hard as it had been, the three of them had managed to step off their proverbial rollercoaster in the last month and were putting a tentative foot back on solid ground. Her neighbor’s eyes followed Marshall’s gaze, and it was obvious he was caught off guard at her sudden appearance. She smirked at his surprised look before she added, “Pizza’s here!” to the boys.

Another cheer went up from Marshall and his friends while her nephew ran over to the other yard to talk to their neighbor, “Hey coach, you guys want some pizza?”

Oh, no. No, no, no! Gigi definitely didn’t want to eat with the jerk. She tried not to look outwardly panicked. If she moved fast enough, she probably could grab her salad from on top of the pile of pizza boxes and head back inside to eat. I can eat in my room … or the shower.

“No thanks, kid,” she heard her neighbor decline. “I have a couple of cold steaks and a Budweiser calling my name.”

Groans of discontent went up from the teenagers before they headed to the stairs of the deck, some of them stopping to shake Merle’s hand or low five him where he stood by the maple tree, the others waving goodbye to him and the man next door. As his friends walked away, Marshall offered a quiet, “Thanks for the tips, sir,” to his neighbor, “It was great playing ball again. It’s been awhile.” He’d mentioned to the coach he’d played on a local league before he’d moved away from his old neighborhood.

“Am I going to see you at tryouts on Monday, Marshall?” the man asked him softly, remembering the boy’s hesitation when he’d told him he should try out for Mount Vernon’s football team. “I know if you work hard for hell week, you can make my f*cking team.” The kid had an amazing arm and moved like f*cking lightning. The coach looked towards the deck as he spoke, amused that Aunt Gigi was eyeballing their interaction.

“You really think so?” the boy questioned, keeping his voice low. He didn’t want his friends to know he was considering going out for the football team at his new high school. It had been a couple of years since he’d played on a team, and if he didn’t make the cut, he didn’t want to have to endure their endless digs. The thought of playing football again really appealed to him, because he loved the game. It would also be an easy way for him to make friends at his new school. Dylan, Julian and the rest of the guys who’d come over to hang out lived in his old neighborhood, and went to West Potomac High, where he also would have gone if they hadn’t moved. His new home with his aunt was in the Mount Vernon school district, so Marshall would be going into his junior year at a new school, not knowing a soul. It wouldn’t hurt to be friendly with the coach, either.

“I don’t f*cking doubt it in the least. You’re pretty f*cking good, kid,” the coach encouraged him. “Now go eat your pizza so I can go get a f*cking beer.” He turned the boy by the shoulders and shoved him in the direction of the house next door, Merle joining him to head back up to eat their dinner as Marshall waved goodbye over his shoulder.

“What’s the rule while you’re here, boys?” Negan heard Gigi quiz the teens as he made his way up the stairs to the second story.

“No cursing in the house!” a chorus of teenage voices rose in the air in unison, reciting an obviously familiar mantra.

“But we weren’t in the house, Aunt Gigi!” Marshall argued amiably in defense of the group.

“But I could hear you, couldn’t I? I would hope you boys would show me a little more respect.”

She’s his aunt, not his mom. He’d taken notice of the fact when Marshall had announced their victory to her. He wondered where the boy’s parents were, why he was living with his aunt. Negan could hear the woman’s tone was light, but her message was firm, and the coach rolled his eyes as the boys murmured their apologies. She has got to be f*cking kidding. He was certain her lesson in manners was a dig aimed at him, and he smirked as he turned the grill back on low to heat up their half cooked dinner. f*ck her. I don’t have to respect dick .

The boys didn’t seem to be put off by her bitchfest, and they laughed and talked with her and the girl who had to be Marshall’s sister, or the aunt’s daughter, since she lived at their house as well and looked just like them. The coach actively ignored them while he and Merle bullsh*tted about this and that, eating their dinner, which they washed down with a few more beers.

_________

“No! No! Matt! Don’t do it!” Gigi squealed as she watched Matt shake up one of the bottles of soda sitting on the table in front of him, pointing the opening at the top of the neck at her, his thumb the only thing keeping her from getting soaked with sugary liquid. Getting up from the table, he rounded the table to her side. “Come on, Matt!” She jumped up from her seat as he approached her, and she tried to circumvent him by running around the opposite side of the table.

“Take it back!” Matt insisted, running around the table after her.

“Nope!” she refused as she tried to dodge him. “The Baltimore Ravens are better, and you know it! Everyone knows it!”

“Traitor!” Matt teased her with a laugh as she ran down the stairs towards the lawn to get away from him. “It’s the Redskins all the way! Our home team rules!” Northern Virginia considered the Redskins their team, even though the team played in Washington DC.

The rest of the kids got up from their seats to watch as Matt chased Gigi around the yard, the soda in his hand starting to bubble out around his thumb on the lip of the neck, because he’d shaken it so much. He loosened up his thumb a bit as he moved, allowing some of the sticky liquid to fly, and laughed like a hyena when Marshall’s aunt squealed as it hit her in the back of her head and shoulders.

“Take it back!” he repeated as he let another stream of fluid loose, aimed at her back.

“What the f*ck?” Negan questioned out loud in response to the girly ass screaming going on in the backyard, as he stepped out onto the deck from inside, after putting some dishes in the kitchen sink.

“They’re like Schwarzenegger and Devito,” Merle chuckled as the coach joined him at the railing, referring to the six foot, two hundred and fifty pound boy, chasing the pixie along the beach, his laughter making it obvious there was no malice in his actions.

As she approached the dividing line between the yards, Marshall closed in on her from the other direction, shaking a second opened two liter bottle and pointing it in her direction. “Come on, Aunt Gigi! Pledge your allegiance to the home team!” he insisted.

Realizing she was going to get soaked by one or the other of the boys, Gigi leapt onto the dock and ran to the far end. The boys chased her, letting streams of the soda loose from their bottles, but they weren’t close enough for it to reach her. At the end of the pier, out of places to run, she turned suddenly to face them, putting her hands up, as if to surrender.

Negan and Merle couldn’t hear what she was saying, but she was obviously pleading for them not to soak her. Exaggerated contrition was written on her face as she stepped towards Matt, and reached out in front of her, offering to shake his hand in capitulation. Transferring the half empty bottle of soda to his other hand, the boy reached out to shake Gigi’s hand as Marshall backed up from the scene, shaking his head with a laugh. The two men watched his response curiously.

The second the woman had Matt’s hand firmly in her own, her arm shot upward, wrenching his wrist to bend it just enough to startle and incapacitate him. Stepping into him, she brought her other hand to the back of his bicep, shoving the top of it forcefully to turn him away from her. The move also pushed the boy away from her, and she followed up by gracefully kicking the heel of one foot out into the boy’s rear end, knocking him off the side of the dock and into the water.

She immediately jumped up and down, dancing around the dock as she shouted out a, “Wooo hooo!” in victory. Her excitement was short lived, as Marshall was suddenly in front of her, his almost full bottle of soda pointed at her face. “Noooo!” Gigi shouted, suddenly leaping at her nephew as a caramel surge of soda started to fly in her direction. She flew into him, wrapping her arms around his torso, smooshing the bottle of soda between them, the force of the impact pushing him backwards so they both fell off the pier, laughing as they hit the water.

“Damn, she took Schwarzenegger down!” Merle commented. “Best make sure you don’t screw with her, amigo. She might kick your ass.”

“No f*cking kidding,” Negan responded, watching the melee in the water. She was a f*cking piece of work, but the kids obviously liked her, the rest of the friends and the girl running onto the dock, jumping into the water to join the fun. Within minutes, Gigi was on Matt's shoulders, howling with laughter as she struggled in a chicken fight with the teenage girl on Dylan's shoulders.

He nodded to himself, once again impressed as he thought about the power in her hundred pound body. Definitely f*cking hot. But she’s still a bitch.

Chapter 4: Get Your Feet Wet, Man

Chapter Text

“You gotta f*cking save me,” Negan murmured to Merle as he walked up to the bar to get another drink, looking for a reprieve from the annoying woman who wouldn't leave him alone. His drinking buddy was ordering himself another beer, and asked what the coach wanted as he approached. Scotch was Negan's drink of choice for the evening, because he knew he’d need a serious buzz to ensure the whole scene at the Kozy Keg wouldn’t get on his last f*cking nerve. The booze was working for the most part, but even the top rail brand he was knocking back couldn’t dull the effect of the grating and incessant chatter of Bambi, who had fixated on him a half hour before and wouldn’t get the f*ck out of his face. He’d even informed her, three minutes into her rambling, he just wanted to be left the f*ck alone.

“You don’t mean that!” she’d giggled, wrapping her hand around his bicep and anchoring herself at his side. “No one wants to be alone!” Despite Negan prying her fingers from his arm and walking away from her several times, she continued to follow him around, talking non stop.

It might be worth listening to her mind numbing drivel if he was interested in a piece of her, but she had the brains of a goddamn brick. As a rule, Negan didn’t do stupid.

He didn't know why the f*ck he'd agreed to come to the bar with his friend. Tuesday night was ladies night, and Merle had decided it would be the perfect night for the widower to get out and mingle. “Get your feet wet, man,” Merle had prodded him when they’d walked through the door of the place a half an hour before. “You don’t have to f*ck ‘em. Just talk. Get out on the dance floor. Maybe rub yer dick up on ‘em a little.”

“I don’t f*cking dance,” Negan had reminded him, “and you know Lucille only passed away two f*cking months ago, right Merle?”

“Yep. And it's time ta move on. You know I loved yer better half even more than I love you, sweetheart,” his friend had needled him, “but she even gave you a shopping list fer yer next piece a ass. That’s the same as giving you the green light to move on asap, amigo.” He’d pronounced the acronym as a word instead of spelling out each letter.

“You are such a f*cking ass.”

“So I’ve been told,” his friend had agreed, his eyes scouting for prospects for himself around the room as they’d made their way to the bar.

“Hey there, Merle!” a leggy blonde with a nose ring and tats covering her arms and neck had greeted him as he made his way through the crowd. She was obviously excited to see him, and had bee lined her way through the crowd to kiss him on the cheek.

“Hey darlin’!” he’d greeted her as he passed by, lightly caressing her stomach with his fingertips, where it was peeking out between her cropped f*ck Off and Die tee shirt and her tight ass skinny jeans. “You an' me later?” She’d nodded enthusiastically, looking over her shoulder at him wistfully as he continued to make his way through the crowd.

“Hey, baby girl,” Merle had greeted the next woman who’d put herself in the middle of his path to try to get his attention. He called them all “honey” or “darlin’” or one of many other general terms of endearment because he couldn’t remember their names the morning after he’d slept with them. If he was honest with himself, he probably never had asked any of them, because he didn’t give a sh*t. He stepped into her, stopping two inches short of her lips. Sharing her breath, he’d propositioned her in his slow Georgia drawl, “You gonna show me that pretty puss* later?”

“Yes, daddy,” the raven haired, rubenesque young woman had answered him breathily, visibly trembling with excitement at the prospect, obviously overwhelmed by the man’s physical presence.

“Good girl.” Merle had smacked her on the ass as they’d moved around her to pass by. “She’s twenty one and a half!” He called over his shoulder to Negan as he moved, so he’d be heard over the loud country music filling the room. He was damn proud of the fact she was less than half his age. It made his dick twitch just thinking about her nubile thighs straddling his face.

The coach had marveled at how the man stopped to greet six women, getting up close and personal with each one, putting his hands or lips somewhere on them and whispering sweet nothings, Negan knew, or sexy somethings to them before he moved on, vowing they were the one he wanted to be with at the end of the night. He knew this because Merle had explained his tactics to his friend as they drove to the bar, in great detail, because he felt the widower needed some pointers on how to get laid. As the man had explained it to him, playing his touchy feely greeting game when he walked into the bar gave him the opportunity to look for new prospects over the course of the evening, and if he didn’t find some fresh meat, he could take his pick of the best of the women he’d f*cked before. Once he’d gotten into their panties, if they mistakenly believed they had rights to his time at the Kozy Keg, he would inform them, in no uncertain terms, if they wanted a piece of his ass later they needed to be patient, and get out of his face because he needed some me time before he gifted them the “all about you” time which had made their head spin with satisfaction in the past.

Negan had been a player before he’d started dating Lucille, but he’d never juggled several women at once. He would either have a series of one night stands when he was avoiding commitment, or pick one super hot girl to f*ck until he got tired of them, then move on to the next super hot girl just waiting to sleep with a member of the basketball team.

The coach didn’t even get the chance to step away from the bar with his newly poured scotch on the rocks before Bambi came looking for him, wrapping her hand around his bicep once more. f*ck. Me. “Hi, baby!” the woman suddenly started bouncing up and down at the sight of Merle when he turned around from the bar with a beer in one hand, and two shots in the palm of his other. She proceeded to look back and forth between Negan and his friend as if she were trying to choose between two luscious desserts at a buffet.

“You two know each other?” Negan raised an eyebrow at her.

“Oh, yeah. Bambi and I know each other real well, don’t we darlin’?” Merle looked the woman up and down, then gave his friend with a sh*t eating grin.

Thank f*cking God, Merle doesn’t mind stupid! Negan took one of the shot glasses out of his friend’s hand and held it out for the woman, forcing her to remove her hand from his arm to take it, as he apologized, “Sorry, Bambi. I don’t do stupid or sloppy seconds.” Grabbing and tossing back the second shot in Merle's hand, he left the pair, heading to the nearest exit he spied on the back wall of the room. He really hadn’t planned on getting laid, but neither he or Merle had thought about the fact his buddy had f*cked all the regulars who hung out at the Kozy Keg. He hit the metal push bar on the back door with force, wanting to get the hell out of the place.

“Hey! ” a female voice yelled out angrily as he stepped outside after swinging the door open with such force it almost slammed into the outside wall of the bar. The door came to an abrupt stop two feet from the wall, a hand with a cigarette between two fingers slinking out from behind it, wrapping around the edge and shoving it back towards him. “Why don’t you watch what the f*ck you’re doing!” A pretty redhead appeared as the door swung closed. She was leaning against the wall next to the door frame, scowling at him.

“Why don’t you watch where the f*ck you stand?” Negan countered calmly.

The woman continued to glower at him for five more seconds before she broke into a grin. “Touché,” she laughed, then took a drag of her cigarette as she moved three feet down the wall before relaxing against it once more.

He laughed with her, studying her in the light of the fixture which hung next to the exit door in the alley next to the bar. She was tall, and slim, her curves accentuated by her leggings and body hugging tee shirt. Her long, straight hair hung down the front of her shirt, almost covering her ample tit*. He could see her dark eyes, heavy on the eyeliner and mascara, staring at him, inviting him to say something more.

“You know a guy named Merle?” He wanted to be sure his buddy had never dipped into this possibility before he wasted another second with her.

“No,” she responded, curiously. “Should I?”

“No.” He shook his head, dismissing her question a wave of his hand. “You have another?” he asked pointing at her cigarette.

Reaching into the purse that hung by her hip, she kept her eyes on his as she felt for her pack, pulling it out and jerking her wrist slightly so a few of the cigarettes popped up, leaving an inch sticking out of the opening in the top. She’s f*cking sizing me up. Negan took a few steps towards her to take one, but as he reach out, she pulled the pack towards her slowly, so he’d have to move into her space to grab one.

“Heh.” He swiped his tongue between his teeth as he squinted at her, liking her beach ball sized lady nuts. He took his time looking her over, trying to decide whether he wanted to take her bait. If he did, it wouldn’t be on her f*cking terms. It would be on his. Why the f*ck not? She’s practically offering her ass up on a silver platter. He took two steps closer to her, stopping a foot in front of her.

Reaching down between them, Negan ran his fingertips softly down her forearm until they found the cigarettes sticking out of her pack. Putting one between his lips, he waited until she brought hers back up to her mouth and then took one more step, stopping so close he could feel her tit* brush the front of his tee shirt. Splaying his fingers on either side of her face, he tilted her head up to him, cigarette still between her lips. He felt the woman's body initially tense, however once she realized what he was doing he could feel the tension disappear beneath his fingers. It pleased him immensely she stood absolutely still, despite her trepidation, as he moved the tip of his Marlboro to touch the end of hers and took a few drags, lighting it with the cherry.

Letting go of her and pulling his head back just far enough to look into her eyes, he used two fingers to pull her cigarette from her lips and flick it to the pavement beside them, blowing his smoke to the side as she started to protest, a breathy, “Hey …” hanging in the air between them.

“Open your mouth for me, sweetheart,” he ordered before taking another drag of his cigarette. His co*ck took notice when she didn’t hesitate to follow his order, trusting him completely even though she didn’t know him from Adam. Moving his lips a fraction of an inch from hers, he felt her tremble against his chest as he blew his smoke into her mouth, grinning when she sucked it in, breathing deeply to get as much of it as possible. This’ll be a piece of f*cking cake .

___________

“That was f*cking awesome, doll,” Negan lied as he looked down at the redhead, stuffing his dick back in his underwear and zipping up his pants. He’d fingered the woman to an org*sm, and then come in her mouth as she knelt on the ground in front of him, between his Charger and the truck parked next to it in the back of the parking lot behind the bar. “You’re probably going to want to get back inside before this f*cking rain starts coming down,” he dismissed her, looking up at the sky. The wind had kicked up while they were fooling around, thunder rumbling in the air around them. He offered her his hand to help her back to her feet.

He had the decency to help her right her clothes, trying not to act as rushed as he felt while he pulled her shirt back down over her chest after she hooked her bra behind her back. The thing had never made it off her shoulders. He’d simply mouthed his way around it, shoving it up to her collarbone as he’d gotten her off, hoping the studs on her belt weren't scratching his f*cking paint job when he heard them clack against the finish of the passenger side door as he sucked on one of her nipples.

The truth was, he couldn’t wait to get the f*ck away from her. It started to drizzle as they worked to get their clothes back in place, and she kept side eyeing him as she pulled her leggings back up from around her knees hurriedly hoping, Negan was sure, he’d ask her to have a drink with him inside, or at least for her phone number. He wasn't going to insult her by pretending to be interested in anything other than the blow j*b she’d just given him.

Rain started to fall, the perfect excuse for saying a hasty goodbye. Kissing the young woman on the corner of her her mouth because he didn’t want to touch her lips again with his, he whispered, “Thanks, doll. This was fun,” and walked around to the driver’s side of his car, hitting the button on the key fob to open his door. He got in quickly and hit the button on the armrest to lock the doors, just in case she got the crazy f*cking idea to jump in with him.

The sound of his doors locking and car starting were what finally spurred the woman to realize her time with him was over. Since Negan had backed into his spot, he could see her through the windshield as she turned and ran two rows over, lightning suddenly brightening the sky and her form as she skittered away. She hopped into a compact car, pulling out of her parking spot and driving away only a few seconds after her door slammed shut. Three more bolts of lightning came down in rapid succession in front of Negan's eyes, the final bolt low in the sky, its branches seemingly reaching for the Kozy Keg before they retracted. Negan smirked as he thought of his wife’s words their last morning together, about striking down any woman who wasn’t right for him. All right Lucille. No more ass shopping at the Keg.

Pulling his phone out of his front pocket, he sent a text to Merle.

10:13 PM

Take a f*cking Uber home.

10:15 PM Merle

Where the hell are you?

10:15 PM Merle

You find yourself some

puss*?

10:16 PM

No. Just not in the mood

for the bar scene.

10:18 PM Merle

Man, you gotta get your

feet wet sometime. Or

should I say, you gotta

get your dick wet

sometime. LMAO.

10:19

f*ck off.

Negan dropped the phone on the seat next to him, put his car in gear and pulled out of the Kozy Keg’s parking lot, shaking his head at his disaster of a night. He was agitated at the fact he’d had a perfectly cute, albeit a little hard around the edges, woman suck his dick, out in the open no less, and it was all he could do to enjoy it. He’d known he’d made a mistake the minute he kissed her. She’d smelled and tasted like a bar, cigarettes and stale vodka, which was a major f*cking turn off for him. Call him a goddamn hypocrite. Once they'd started f*cking around, he quickly realized he just wanted come quickly and get away from her, but his lack of interest was going to make for one long ass blow j*b. He’d finally resorted to pulling up images of his favorite p*rn scenes and past sexual exploits in his head, surprising himself when the image of his neighbor, Gigi, with her short f*cking swim trunks and muscular legs popped into his mind, finally fueling his f*cking fire. In his head he was eye level with her ass, kneeling behind her on the dock, his fingers sliding up into the fabric covering each of her cheeks, pushing it up so his lips could make contact with her silky skin, biting and sucking as he moved towards her cleft. He pictured himself hooking his index finger around the fabric between her thighs to pull it out of his way and snaking his tongue between her cheeks. The second he licked the pucker of her ass in his imagined p*rn scenario, he blew his load into the redhead's mouth.

f*ck.

Pulling into his garage twelve minutes later, he turned off his engine and headed into the house. Relying on the night lights in the kitchen and family room right next to it, he kicked off his shoes and made his way to his liquor cabinet in the dining room to grab his bottle of Johnny Walker Red and a highball glass, taking them back to the kitchen. Washing his hands vigorously to get the scent of the redhead off them, he walked to the freezer to get ice, annoyed by the noise of the motorized chute on the door and the clank of the ice into the glass.

Moving back to the kitchen counter where he'd left his bottle by the sink, he poured himself a double, immediately knocking back half of it as he looked out the window over the faucet at the moonlight reflected on the water. I could use a good bender. It’s been at least a week since I wallowed in a bottle of scotch and a healthy f*cking dose of self pity. He squinted when he saw movement on the dock, a pint-sized figure moving back and forth in the moonlight. Marshall’s sister, maybe? Too short to be the boy . The person was briefly illuminated as they passed by the dim light of the solar lamps he’d attached to the top of the two pillars on either end and in the middle of the part of the dock which ran parallel to the shore. Reaching over to the outlet next to the sink, he unplugged the night light shining in his eyes, knowing he would be able to see better in total darkness.

The figure moved from one end of the dock to the other, gracefully leaping and twirling. What the f*ck? He watched out of curiosity for several seconds before he realized it was Gigi, dancing in the darkness. The rain had stopped, but there was a mist falling, and he could see her heavy breath forcing its way through the hazy air in the light of the solar fixtures. He could just make her out, standing on the tip of long f*cking toes, taking tiny steps to move right, then left. She must have those shoes with the hard thing in the end,so she can stand on the tip of her toes.

In the blink of an eye her graceful movements were gone, and she jumped and twirled furiously, pounding across the dock with some serious f*cking attitude, dancing nothing like she had seconds before, and nothing like the ballet dancers he’d seen in snippets on tv shows or in movies.

Curious as to what music was evoking her frenzied movements, Negan picked up his bottle of scotch and his glass and moved to the sliding doors in the family room to his left. He quietly slid open one of the glass doors, and stepped outside. Hidden by the dark, he was enveloped by the hot, humid, misty August air which had become stifling once the rain had passed through the area. Leaning on the railing of the deck, he watched Gigi move, absolutely f*cking fascinated. He heard no melody, and judging by her skimpy spandex workout shorts and her tank top, she had no place to hide a cell phone for a source of music. Maybe she had one sitting on one of the pillars of the dock, and was wearing a Bluetooth earpiece but he didn’t think so. Her frenetic movements would surely send it flying in a matter of minutes. She was dancing to the beat of her own f*cking drummer, so to speak.

Her choreography calmed again, and she took her tiny tiptoe steps to one of the pillars on the side of the dock closest to him. She was facing him as she picked up a wine glass he hadn’t noticed before, and took several gulps of the liquid inside, tipping her head back to get the last drops in the bottom of the glass. Grabbing a wine bottle from the surface of the dock next to the pylon, she started to pour herself more, raising the bottle in front of her after only a few seconds and shaking it, as if she needed to be sure it was really empty. She swayed a bit as she bent over to put the bottle down, clumsily catching it when it tipped over as she placed it on the flat surface. Once she righted it, she put up her index finger, gesturing for the inanimate object to stay still before she danced off again.

She’s drunk. Nice! The slightly inebriated man on the deck smirked to himself. Drinking alone? Not a good move, doll. Negan tipped back his highball and finished off the second half of his drink, then twisted the lid off his bottle and poured himself another double, all while keeping his eyes on his neighbor. She had started to move again, letting out a loud grunt as she took off across the dock once more, twirling most of the way. Pounding across the wood surface one minute, gliding the next. Back and forth she leapt and ran, crying out forlornly as she came to an abrupt stop at one end of the structure, then the other, sometimes leaning so far forward or backward on the edge, he was sure she was going to lose her balance and fall into the water, but then she would quickly twist her body around in a move he would have thought physically impossible and head in the other direction, emitting another quiet, almost feral sound. Her hair was hanging loose, flying around and above and behind her as she moved, adding to the chaotic look of her dance.

He wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from watching her if he tried. It wasn’t about the dancing. He could give a flying f*ck about the dancing. It was how she was dancing. She was like a train wreck happening right before his eyes. An angry f*cking train wreck. She’s f*cking pissed! That’s what all the f*cking frenzy is about. It was as if she was unknowingly telling her audience of one how she was feeling, without using any words. Serene, graceful tiny steps and moves and what the f*ck do you call them … pirouettes, that’s the f*cking word, would morph into fevered twirling, and bizarre moves, her body jerking and twisting all over the f*cking place. Then there would be another shift in mood and the dance would suddenly become more focused as she grunted and stomped, moving with precise, rigid motions, anger radiating off her with every step. After a time she calmed once more, swaying for several beats before she went back to dancing graceful steps on her tiptoes, leg extensions and elegant pirouettes. Reeling her f*cking emotions back in.

She finally stopped in front of her wine glass. Picking it up once more, she raised the bottom of it to get what must have been a very little bit of wine out of it. Moving the glass in front of her, she studied it for a moment before suddenly smashing it onto the top of the pillar with the flat of her hand.

I did not f*cking see that coming!Negan heard Gigi gasp as the glass in her hand shattered on the wooden surface, a cry of pain immediately following, piercing the heavy night air. Rushing back into the house, he made his way to the bathroom to grab his first aid kit, and a towel. After gathering some things in the kitchen he rushed back out to the deck and down the steps, hurrying down the yard and onto the dock. When he didn't spot her right away, he momentarily thought she had walked back to her house, but finally spied her squatting behind one of the dock's piles, picking up pieces of glass. Her injured hand was raised several inches above her shoulder and to the side as she worked, stacking the shards on top of the pillar.

_____________

Hearing someone approaching, Gigi groaned to herself, mortified they might have seen her temper tantrum. She couldn’t be too hard on herself, though, because as stupid as it had been, slamming the vessel down had not only shattered it’s glass, but had also shattered what was left of her upset.

Since the kids had gone to the movies with friends for the evening, she knew there could only be one person walking towards her on the dock. He probably was coming to yell at her for scattering glass everywhere, because of course she had broken it on his side of the dock. She wouldn’t blame him, honestly.

Glancing up at the man as he turned to walk towards her on the top of the “T”, she noticed the plastic box and the towel he carried in one hand, and the flashlight and bottle of water he held between the fingers of the other. Squatting down in front of her, he sat his things on the wood surface of the dock. He turned on the flashlight, directing the beam onto her raised arm. His tone was gentle when he finally spoke, murmuring, “Boy, you really did a number on yourself, tiny dancer.”

Gigi's mortification was now official. He’d not only seen her tantrum, but he'd been watching her long enough to see her crazed performance. The performance which had felt so good.

Turning to look at the damage she’d done to herself, Gigi was shocked at the amount of blood running down her arm and dripping off her elbow. She could only nod at him, light-headed from the wine she’d drunk and the sight of her own blood.

“Sit,” Negan ordered, seeing the upset on her face as she looked at her wounds. “Over here.” He lightly patted the outside of her thigh with his fingers, gently nudging her towards a spot free of glass, just a few feet away. He illuminated the surface with his flashlight until she was settled. “Hold this for me,” he ordered amiably, putting the flashlight in her uninjured hand and moving it until the beam lit the area between them. She followed every command without hesitation, despite the fact he’d been a total sh*t to her the first day he’d met her.

He positioned himself next to her, stretching his long legs out in front of him and gently pulling her hand onto his leg, palm up, so he could look at it in the light. He worked quietly, bent over his task, gently cleaning the wound with a corner of the towel he’d wet with the bottled water, pausing whenever she hissed in discomfort.

“Your pants!” Gigi lamented as several drops of her blood dripped onto the knee of his gray twills, turning her away head quickly as he pulled open one of her cuts with two fingers to look for glass in her flesh, not wanting to see inside the cut.

“A little blood won't hurt anything,” he responded without looking up at her, intent on his job.

She wanted to tell him the blood would be hard to get out of the fabric, but she didn't. She wanted to tell him she appreciated him coming to her rescue, but she couldn’t, unsure of the man sitting next to her. Gigi had no idea why he was being so nice to her when she'd been so nasty to him the day of the wake. “After he was nasty to you first,” she reminded herself.

“You have several cuts,” he finally informed her, putting bandages on the the more shallow cuts after cleaning and putting antibiotic ointment on them, trying to keep pressure on the deeper cuts in the middle of her palm which were still bleeding. “It doesn’t look like there’s glass in any of them, but unfortunately, it looks like a few of them are deep enough to need stitches. I think you may have sliced your tendon here.” He took her upturned hand in his palm and pulling it closer, he pointed to the first joint of her index finger.

The corners of Negan's mouth quirked up as his neighbor finally got up the nerve to look at the wounds, leaning towards him and lowering her head to get a better look at her hand as he finished up. He studied her as he worked, aware of her scent as she moved, a light citrus with a hint of vanilla coming off her skin, her hair right under his nose so he could smell her herbal shampoo. Her skin and hair were damp from the heavy mist and her exercise, droplets of water falling from the ends of some of the strands which now hung limp, framing her beautifully serious face. Along with her spandex shorts and tank top she was wearing purple satin ballet shoes, the ribbons wrapped and tied above her ankles. He’d never seen ballet shoes any color other than pastel pink. The shoes had seen a better day, the edges of the openings frayed from wear and the satin fabric torn in one spot, stained with black skid marks in another.

“That spot hurts the most,” she admitted after looking over the joint he’d pointed out on her finger. Tilting her head back to look up at him from her close vantage point, she questioned him, “Do you think if I'm careful I can avoid getting stitches?” Her big brown eyes were looking up at him as if he held the answers to all the important questions of her universe and it made him smile.

He reduced the pressure he’d been putting on the bleeders, but the little bit of movement from her perusal of the cuts had caused the blood flow to increase from several of them. “No, doll, I don't think you can f*cking avoid the stitches, especially if you sliced one of your tendons. And you need antibiotics.” He put several more pads of gauze on top of the existing ones and curled her fingers to put pressure on her palm. Maybe it was the scotch softening him up, but she didn't seem to be as uptight as he'd remembered. He watched her as she looked over her hand again, enjoying being in her space. He found her scent comforting, and the smell of wine on her breath when she'd questioned him had been faint and sweet, tempting him to taste her. Get the f*ck over yourself, asshole. She’d kick your f*cking ass off the dock. He suspected it had only taken 2 or 3 glasses to make her tipsy, since the smell of the wine was inviting, not offensive.

“You had a bad day?” he inquired out of the blue, thinking of her frenzied dance in the mist.

“What do you mean … Ohhhh, right. You saw my crazy, angry dance and my gross display of self-pity.” She smirked to herself, shaking her head in embarrassment.

“No, what I saw was energetic emoting, and a fabulous f*cking show of painful, but very satisfying self-pity!” he described exuberantly, rephrasing her harsh self-assessment and making her laugh. Negan didn’t have a clue as to why he felt the need to dig into her personal business, let alone validate her. Maybe it was because he was sure her display had something to do with the loss of her husband. And maybe it was because he could f*cking relate.

Looking up at him again with her doe eyes, she nodded, answering quietly, “I buried him … my husband, one month ago, today.”

“It'll get a little easier, each week that goes by,” he reassured her. After a moment of silence he qualified his statement with, “Just a little bit.” Did I just let myself spew touchy feely sh*t at her? He knew why he'd done it. It was because he could relate to her f*cking pain, and anger and confusion. He'd tried to be strong because he'd promised his wife he'd be okay, and he had been, but Lucille's death had f*cking crushed him. If the pain of his wife's death could have such a profound f*cking impact on his hard ass self, he could only imagine what her loss had done to the wisp in front of him, who had danced out such huge f*cking emotions she had made his puss*fied ass feel her frustration, pain and anger. f*cking scotch.

“How do you know?” she whispered, as if their conversation was so intimate she didn't want to take the chance of sharing it with anyone else. She kept eye contact with him, her brow furrowed with curiosity, once again looking as if she awaited his wise and vitally important answer.

I can't do this sh*t with her. We've never even had a decent f*cking conversation before and I'm going to share my sh*t with her? Not f*cking happening.

Negan dragged his gaze away from hers and began packing up his first aid kit in deafening silence, tossing the towel over his shoulder and putting the cap back on the water bottle. He reached for the flashlight in her hand, casually avoiding her eyes as he illuminated the dock to be sure he had everything.

That's when he heard her very tender, “Ohhh.” When he heard her understanding and empathy.

She suddenly covered his hand with her own. “I'm so sorry,” her voice was full of sadness and concern as she lightly squeezed his hand, and for some reason it pissed him the f*ck off.

“Don't be,” he bit at her, pulling his hand away from hers. Negan didn't know why he was so f*cking angry, but he was. Gathering the rest of his things, he stood up, turning to walk back to his house.

“Thank you!” her voice called quietly as he walked away, her hesitant tone suggesting she was worried she would anger him further.

Negan stopped, knowing he should apologize for his behavior or at least acknowledge her thanks. More important, he should offer to take her to the emergency room to get stitches. What finally came out of his mouth as he turned back to look at her, surprised him. “My wife died eight weeks and four days ago,” he revealed, letting his neighbor know he understood what she was going through, because he too, was counting the exact number of days and weeks his wife had been gone. He answered her question about how he knew it would get easier by admitting he’d been speaking from experience.

Gigi knew better than to respond with sympathy. She simply nodded, unwrapping the ribbons on her toe shoes, taking them off and then getting up to walk up to her house, carrying the satin slippers in her hand. “Thanks, again. I’ll get the rest of the glass cleaned up in the light of day,” she stopped to inform him, before walking down the dock past him. The lights suddenly went on in her kitchen and family room, signaling the childrens’ return from their night out. It was perfect timing for Marshall to drive her to the hospital. She put her good hand up over her shoulder to wave goodbye to her neighbor, continuing up the yard and through her basem*nt door.

Chapter 5: The Phys Ed Teacher's Wet Dream

Chapter Text

On Friday morning Gigi drove Marshall to the football field at the high school as she’d done every morning for the last five days. Thanks to “the wine glass incident”, as she was referring to it in her mind, for the last three days she’d driven with her left hand, using the last three fingers and the thumb of her right hand when she absolutely needed, to avoid aggravating her wounds. She had a total of twelve stitches between her lacerated tendon and the deep cuts to her palm. Her right hand looked like something from the Bride of Frankenstein, between the black stitches and the butterfly bandages. She tried not to admonish herself when she thought about it, as she pulled up beside the field at the school to let Marshall out of the car.

After saying goodbye to her nephew, she drove her SUV to the other side of the school to the staff parking lot, excited to find spot number fifty three, which would be her designated parking spot for her new job at Mount Vernon High School. She threw thanks out to the universe and her best friend Carol, for providing her with a new job at the perfect time to help keep her busy, which would help keep her mind off of losing Yuri. Today was her first official day, and it would be a long one. Cheerleading tryouts were beginning in an hour and a half, and she wanted to get into the gym and make sure she had what she needed to ensure tryouts would run smoothly.

She was excited and nervous. This would not only be her first day at Mount Vernon, it would be her first day teaching since obtaining her master's degree. When she’d had to take a hiatus from dancing due to her knee problems, and it was extended so she could take care of Yuri after his second aneurysm had partially paralyzed him, it had become clear one or both of their medical issues could end her dancing career. She’d decided to go back to school, with Yuri’s encouragement so she would have a back up plan. She had gotten her under graduate degree in education at NYU years before, having felt it was essential in case, or when, she had to stop dancing. A prima ballerina's career was typically short, ending in the mid to late thirties when the body needed to retire from the chronic physical abuse from long, arduous hours of rehearsal.

She’d had no desire to work in the administrative offices at the American Ballet Theater, even though Misha had made sure a position high in the ranks had been offered to her after it had become clear she wouldn’t be able to dance for an extended period of time, or possibly, ever again.

Gigi had chosen to major in physical education because she wanted to work with kids, but knew she wouldn’t be happy teaching in a classroom. When she and Yuri had purchased Dale’s house in the same area in Virginia her friend Carol lived with her husband and daughter, the woman had mentioned a job opening in the phys ed department of the high school where she taught home economics. “Our dance and cheerleading person is leaving, Gigi,” her friend had informed her, excitedly. “You need to apply!” They both had been thrilled at the idea of working together again, and thanks to Carol putting in a good word for her with the school’s principal, Gigi had been offered the job.

Turning the corner around the side of the school, Gigi stopped in front of orange cones which were blocking the entrance to the staff parking lot, a sign reading “Wet Paint” propped against one of them. She spied someone, half way down the lot, freshening the paint of the dividing lines between the empty parking spaces with a long handled roller. Thirty feet in front of her another man was running a roller full of orangey yellow paint along the curbs at the entrance. She co*cked her head to one side, grinning to herself when she recognized the worker directly in front of her, just as he looked up from his work and spotted her in the driver’s seat of her SUV. Setting down his paint roller, he sauntered towards her, stopping next to her passenger side window.

Hitting the button to roll down the window, Gigi greeted him, “Merle! What’re you doing here?” She really was happy to see a familiar face, even if he was only familiar from a thirty second conversation.

“I should be asking you that question, darlin’. I work here,” he informed her. “You dropping off Marshall fer football practice?” Negan had told him the boy had decided to show up for hell week, so he assumed it was the reason for Gigi’s presence so early in the morning.

“I did just drop him off,” she confirmed, assuming the man had seen her nephew at practice, “but I was actually told to park here, in the staff lot. Number fifty three. Since it’s closed, I guess I’ll park at the curb out in front of the school?”

It took Merle a minute few seconds to process what she was telling him, but gleam appeared in his eye and one side of his mouth turned up in a smirk as he guessed, “You teachin’ here this year?” Number fifty three was Jenna Daniels old parking spot. Gigi must be the pregnant woman’s replacement.

“Yep!” She grinned from ear to ear, obviously pleased to share the tidbit of information with her new friend. “Teaching phys ed! I have cheerleading tryouts today in the gym.”

“Oh, Gigi!” the groundskeeper responded dramatically, “Ya mean I’m gonna be able to lay eyes on that fine form a yers every single day?”

She raised an eyebrow at him, admonishing, “Now, Merle. Is that any way to talk to your female coworker in the era of the ‘Me, Too’ movement?” She broke out in another grin, letting the man know his remarks didn’t bother her. For some strange reason, she found his flirtation endearing instead of obnoxious. She didn’t know what it was about him, but normally she shot men like him down in ten seconds or less after their first flirty comment.

“Yes, ma’am. Especially when she’s as beautiful as you are.” He glanced down at his clothes, looking for signs of wet paint before ordering, “Open up,” pulling at the passenger side door handle. After a second of confusion, Gigi hit the button to unlock his door, and he hopped in beside her. “I’ll show you where ta park,” he announced. “That’s ma brother Daryl.” He pointed past the windshield to the man further down the lot. “He’s new here, too. Just started on Monday. I’ll have to introduce ya later. Now back up, and then turn left at the stop sign,” he instructed.

Gigi grinned at her new buddy’s efforts to help her find her way and meet other staff members. Putting her car in reverse she followed his orders as he asked about her injured hand. She was vague in her response, telling him she cut herself on some glass. The last thing she needed was for her new co workers to know she’d hurt herself in a moment of wine induced self drama. They chatted about the school while Merle guided her around the building, past the football field. “What’s that about?” Gigi pointed her index finger at the group of boys on the field. They were all kneeling on one knee, eyes lowered, one or two of them glancing up warily at something, or more likely someone, hidden behind the cinder block concession stand which was blocking them from her view. It looked odd, when she’d expected to see the teens performing drills, or practicing plays.

“Coach must be giving them a raft of sh*t,” Merle explained. “Someone mouthed off, or screwed up, and he’s givin’ ‘em hell for it, based on the look on number eighty one’s face.”

“He makes them kneel on one knee?” Gigi asked incredulously. “Isn’t that a bit demeaning?”

“Coach Smith demands respect from his players,” the man defended his friend. “He’s old school, Gigi. ‘Speak when you’re spoken to’ and all that kind of stuff. Like our parents used ta be, not like the helicopter moms that raised these kids. They kneel when he hits the field in the morning. They kneel while he goes over plays with ‘em, or gives 'em grief. Kinda like standin’ at attention in the military.”

“I agree with children needing to respect adults, but respect should be earned not demanded, don't you think? Sounds like the coach has a big ego. Be honest with me,” she grinned as he looked over at Merle, wanting him to fill her in on some staff gossip, “Is he a jerk?”

The groundskeeper stared at her for a moment after she turned her head back to look at the road in front of her, understanding finally washing over him. Oh, Gigi, Gigi, Gigi. This is just too damn good to be true. “Ya mean you haven’t met the coach yet?” He wondered how Marshall had talked to his aunt about football practice without mentioning the man next door was the coach. This was going to be a hell of a lotta fun.

Gigi couldn’t figure out why his tone was so dramatic when he questioned her. “No, why?”

“Between you and me, he’s a real asshole,” Merle revealed as if he were telling her in confidence. “But he doesn’t bother me, none. I’ve learned how ta get along with him.”

“He’s that bad?” she frowned at the news.

“Yeah, he is,” the groundskeeper confirmed.

“Huh,” Gigi pursed her lips as she pulled into the spot the groundskeeper pointed out to her. “Sounds like someone needs to put the coach in his place.”

“And you think that’ll be you?” Merle questioned her, knowing it wouldn’t be the first time she’d put Negan in his place.

“I have a hard time putting up with people like that, Merle,” she confessed as if it were a weakness.

“Well, I can’t wait ‘til ya meet him, Coach … “ he trailed off, waiting for the woman to fill in her last name.

“Coach Sokolov,” Gigi supplied as she put the car in park, hopping out and grabbing a couple of tote bags from the back. Her new buddy helped her lift a rolling cooler and set it on the ground. “Thanks, Merle. I really appreciate the help.”

“It’s a pleasure, darlin’. You need help carryin' that stuff in?”

“Nah, I’ve got it. Thanks, though.” She used her good hand to put the bags over her shoulder, and then grabbed the handle of the cooler to roll it behind her.

“Right through those doors, Gigi,” Merle pointed to a set of double doors on the front of the building. “The gym is straight ahead.” He watched her walk inside, breaking out in laughter the minute the doors closed behind her. Pulling out his phone, he texted Negan, hoping his friend would see the message before he took his lunch break.

7:35 AM

Just laid eyes on

the new cheerleading

coach. I got a big ass

hard on.

7:37 AM dickhe*d

She’s hot? My type or

yours?

7:37 AM

Could fry an

egg on her ass.

Def yours.

7:38 AM dickhe*d

Nice! Eggs sound

great for lunch. I’ll

chk her out then.

Merle laughed again as he pulled a cigarette and lighter out of his shirt pocket. Lighting up, he headed back towards the staff parking lot, setting an alarm on his phone so he’d be sure to make it to the gym by noon. He wanted to see the look on both coach’s faces when they figured out they’d be working together. He cackled like a hyena at the thought.

_________

“Anyone have any questions?” Gigi asked the five dozen students who had shown up for tryouts and were now sitting on the floor in rows, in front of her. She’d explained the tryout process, and wanted to be sure she had been clear. “For those of you who have been on the team in the past, I know this tryout process, and how I’ll manage the varsity and junior varsity teams, will be different than in the past. But I’d like to see Mount Vernon’s squads make it to nationals this year, and I know I can make that happen with the right people on my squads.”

A hand went up from the back row. How did I know one of the Mean Girls would have a question? Penny Blake and her friends Frankie, Amber and Jojo had walked into the gymnasium twenty minutes late, bad attitude written all over them. They’d proceeded to scan the room, making no effort to hide their turned up noses and judgemental glares. Their appraisals weren’t limited to the other students. Gigi had smiled at them when they looked her over, and directing them to have a seat in a friendly voice, quelling her desire to challenge them with a raised eyebrow. She hadn’t had to wait for them to sign in to figure out who they were, because she’d been prepared for them. Carol had filled her in on the dynamics of the teens on the cheerleading squads, and Gigi had been annoyed to hear there had been a hierarchy in place which left little room for movement up or down the ladder. Her friend had also filled her in about the handful of mean spirited girls, Penny and Frankie included, who dominated the squads and made their underlings lives miserable. The teachers had dubbed them the Mean Girls, after the movie of the same name.

“They’re going to be in for a surprise when I come in and shake things up,” the new coach had informed her best friend.

“I don’t know, Gigi. You may meet with some resistance about making radical changes to the way things are done. Penny Blake’s father is the district attorney. You know, the one running for governor?”

“Are you serious?” the new teacher had challenged her friend. “What does her father have to do with why no one’s shut her down?”

“He donates a lot of money to the school. You’ll be working and holding practices in the Philip H. Blake gymnasium, Gigi. They dedicated it to him because he donated the money for the new bleachers in the gym, and all of the gymnastics equipment. He donated all of his wife’s money, I should say. Apparently Mrs. Blake’s inheritance is the reason for the Blake's wealth.”

“Are the administrators aware of the misery the girls cause? I would think what they do would be considered bullying.”

“Yep, but since none of the students or parents have complained, they haven’t had to take any action where the girls are concerned,” the home economics teacher had related.

“Interesting. I think Penny and her friends are going to be in for a rude awakening.”

Carol had giggled at Gigi’s determination, knowing her friend would turn things upside down if she needed to, in order to run things in a way she thought was fair. “I have no doubt they are! Just be prepared for some backlash.”

________

“Why do the people who were on the team last year have to try out again?”

“Good question, Penny,” Gigi praised, smiling at the girl. “I know this will be disconcerting for some of you, but everyone will need to earn their position on my squads, and some of last year’s junior varsity cheerleaders may be ready to advance to varsity. Today I’ll pick the members of both squads. The new squads will come to practice for the next few weeks, and then right before school starts, I’ll announce the captains for each. I think it’s important the captains I pick work well with both their fellow team members and me. I also need to be sure they can handle the organizational tasks I give them, and are dedicated to making Mount Vernon’s squads the best. I’ll need to work with everyone for a few weeks before I know who will be best suited for the position, don’t you think?” She smiled as she looked over the whole group, making eye contact with many of the teens, including Penny.

“Today?” Frankie questioned, her upset clear in her voice. “How can you pick the squad members after only one day?”

“Don’t worry, Frankie,” the coach reassured her. “It will be pretty obvious who’s right for the squads when we do the first few run throughs of the routine. We’re going to handle tryouts like an audition for Broadway, or one of the New York City ballet companies I used to dance for. I’m sure I can select the squad members today, but if I need to do call backs, I will.”

“I knew it was her! ” Amber declared loudly, looking at her bff and then back to the new coach, for validation. “You’re Gigi Sokolov, the ballerina!” An excited murmur went up from the students as they stared at the celebrity standing front of them. Many of the teens had recognized the new coach when they’d signed in on arrival. The dancer had confirmed her identity, to the delight of the group. Some photos and selfies with the dancer had been taken by the students and immediately sent to friends and family or posted on social media, but since Penny and her entourage had walked in twenty minutes late, when the students were already seated in front of the coach on the floor, they weren’t in the loop. A look of surprise came over Jojo's face, while Penny continued to scowl as she studied the coach at the front of the gym.

“Yes, I am,” Gigi confirmed. “So I have quite a bit of experience with auditions, and am sure I’ll be able to single out the best people for our teams. Today.” Coach Sokolov raised her voice, letting the group know it was time to get down to business. “Let’s get started! I hope you all memorized the routine I posted online? Give me five rows!” She moved to her cell phone, sitting on the table right inside the gymnasium doors to pull up her playlist for the day, and make sure it was connected to the school’s Bluetooth speakers.

Turning back around to the cheerleading hopefuls and walking to the front row, she ordered, “Scatter!” moving some people in the front row so a person in row two was standing behind the empty space between the two people in front of them, making it easier for her to see everyone. “I want you six feet apart, please!” The majority of the teens rushed to correct how they were standing, following the coach’s orders, while Penny and her three friends in the back row dragged their feet, some of them rolling their eyes as if they were being put out by the directive.

“All right, kids!” Gigi called out happily, nodding at some of the teens for encouragement and ignoring the ones who weren’t in position yet. “Let’s go! Show me what you’ve got!” After hitting play on her cell phone, she positioned herself in front of the group, facing them, mirroring their starting position for the routine so she could perform with them. The music started, and Coach Sokolov smiled in her excitement, happy to be at her first day of her new job, dancing with the group of teens in front of her as she chanted loudly to the first beats of the music, “Five, six, seven, eight … ”

_________

“What the f*ck is your problem?” Negan demanded as he approached Merle, who was standing in the hallway outside of the gymnasium at noon, a huge grin on his face.

“Ain’t got a problem, Coach Negan! I’m just thankful for this fantastic day, my fantastic job, and my fantastic buddy!” the groundskeeper informed him in his most cheerful voice, slapping him on the upper arm.

“You are so f*cking full of sh*t,” his fantastically agitated buddy retorted with a shake of his head as he moved to open the door to the gym. The teenage assholes on the football field had been trying his patience since practice had started at seven-thirty, and he was glad to have a break from them. He’d told them their brains must have been scrambled from too many hits to the head if they thought he was going to put up with their pathetic f*cking work ethic. The boys had done a bit better after the reaming, but not much.

He could hear what he assumed was the new the teacher’s voice inside the gym calling out to her students, and he was thrilled she hadn’t taken a break for lunch yet. He’d love to get a glimpse of her fine ass. The sounds of laughter could be heard every few seconds, and the sound of the woman’s voice, friendly but full of dramatic sarcasm criticized, “Come on boys! Can’t you keep up with me?” More laughter erupted inside the room as the football coach opened one door in the last of four sets of double doors which ran along the front of the gym, so they’d enter the room at the front corner of the room.

Merle was right on Negan’s heels as he stepped inside, both men wondering what was going on inside. “What the f*ck?” Negan pondered out loud as he took in the scene in front of him. Six of his football players were standing in front of the crowd of cheerleading hopefuls. In full football gear, they were trying to balance on one foot, most of them using a hand to hold their opposite thigh for support. Fat Joseph, one of Negan’s linebackers, was the epitome of ungainliness as he tried again and again to raise one leg higher than his hip as he reached for his thigh.

“Ya gotta give him kudos for the pointed toes,” Merle murmured, both men chuckling as the boy flexed and unflexed his foot while he continued to grab at his thigh in an effort to get a good grip on it.

The football coach was trying to figure out why his linebacker was contorting into the strange pose when he noticed the woman in spandex workout shorts and a Mount Vernon tee shirt standing in front of the young men, halfway down the room, directly to his left. The cheerleading coach was standing on one foot, just as the boys were, but she was the picture of grace, the leg closest to him raised straight up in the air to the side of her hip, toes pointed at the ceiling. Both arms were raised in a “V” over her shoulders, one hand casually wrapped behind the ankle of the leg in the air.

“Like this, boys!” Their example lowered and raised her leg a few times in demonstration, before moving her leg straight out to her side and turning on her one foot before raising the leg again so they could see her pose from the back. “I can stand like this all day,” she assured them before changed poses again, deliberately slow and graceful in positioning the same leg straight up in front of her torso this time, one hand resting lightly behind her knee to keep it in place. “Can you?”

Both men were fascinated at how the woman’s toes were pointed at the sky, the front of her thigh touching her chest in a pose which seemed effortless for her. Her raised foot never touched the ground and she never swayed or faltered as she moved from pose to pose, both seeming as if they should be physically impossible. It was while he watched the coach's hand snake around the back of her knee that Negan finally looked at the her face, recognizing his neighbor. You have got to be f*cking kidding me. He smacked Merle in the chest forcefully with the back of his hand, giving him a deadly stare over his shoulder as he started to move towards Gigi. Putting aside his discontent about the new coach’s identity, he couldn’t wait to hear why the f*ck she was calling out his players. She was clearly giving them a hard time, trying to make an example out of them.

“What’s going on here, boys?” he spoke to his players, instead of the woman in front of them, agitated because the reason for these f*cking gymnastics were keeping him from his f*cking lunch.

The teens seemed relieved to see him, Oscar calling out, “Coach! Tell her we don’t have to do this sh*t!”

Gigi maintained her composure when she recognized the football coach, her mind taking a few seconds to catch on to the implication of what she was seeing. Noooooo! Merle! You jerk! She raised an eyebrow at the groundskeeper who followed the coach as he approached his six players. The rat had the nerve to throw a wink and a smile her way before positioning himself a few feet from her.

“Mouth, Oscar! Drop and give me fifty!” Negan didn’t give a f*ck what the woman was asking them to do. Mouthing off, and cursing in front an authority figure … f*ck! She’s teaching here … was unacceptable.

“Seriously, Coach?” the boy challenged him incredulously.

“Yes, seriously ,” he retorted, mocking the teen’s tone of voice before stopping himself from adding ‘you disrespectful sh*t’.

Sure, Negan swore around the kids, but he never swore directly atthem. He knew he was pushing what was acceptable by cursing in front of them repeatedly, but no one would ever be able to call him abusive. He told his players and hopefuls on the first day of hell week, if they wanted to be on his team, they needed to man the f*ck up. He wouldn’t work with goddamn puss*es who ran crying to mommy that ‘Coach says the F word’, he’d informed them. The kids all seemed to respect his directive because they thought it was cool he swore like a sailor, and they’d found out quickly, while he didn’t call them out for casually swearing around each other, he wouldn’t tolerate them swearing at someone, or when other adults were around. “There’s a f*cking difference,” he’d told them, “between cursing and cursing at someone. And just because I don't mind hearing your f*cking foul mouths doesn't mean everyone is okay with it!” He felt strongly about the matter, since he had been raised by his mother to respect his elders, and authority figures. They were values he felt were sorely f*cking lacking in today’s youth.

“Your disrespect to me will cost you another fifty. And you’ll apologize to Coach … Coach …” He extended his arm towards Gigi as he walked towards Oscar, rolling his wrist and hand in a signal for her to fill in the blank. I don’t know her f*cking name .

“Sokolov,” was the woman’s curt response.

“When you're done you’ll apologize to Coach Sokolov!” Negan’s voice rose a few decibels as he repeated his command in the teen’s face, making it clear the player’s disrespect towards him, the cheerleading coach, and everyone else in the room wouldn’t be tolerated.

“Yes, sir,” the boy responded, more attitude than remorse in his voice.

Negan turned to approach Coach Sokolov at the same time she walked towards him. “You! Meet me in my office,” he demanded, emphasizing who he was talking to by pointing at her. While he was pissed at Oscar, he wanted to know why the f*ck she was calling out his boys in front of her cheerleaders. If she’d had a problem with one of them, she should have approached him about handling it. Turning to walk away from her, he headed towards the opposite end of the room, to the double doors which opened into the hallway right outside of his office. He needed a f*cking sandwich.

Gigi couldn’t believe she would be working with her cranky neighbor, who also happens to be helpful in a crisis, in the same department. Every weekday of the school year. Even more unbelievable, was how he’d just ordered her to his office as if she was one of his students. Who the heck does he think he is? He’s got another thing coming if he thinks he can talk to me that way. “Maybe after practice, Coach Smith?” she called to him across the large room, making sure her tone and body language were light as she refused his demand. “I’m in the middle of tryouts. I’ll try to find you later, if I have time.”

The room became deathly quiet, a lowly “My, my, Coach Sokolov. Ain’t you somethin’,” sounding from the groundskeeper a few feet behind her, meant only for Gigi's ears. Negan was big sh*t at Mount Vernon, partly due to his exceptional coaching and partly due to the way he naturally exuded authority. People unwittingly fell in line behind him, and when they didn’t, the coach could make their lives miserable. Loyal as he was to his buddy, Merle admired the serious balls it had taken for the new kid on the block to challenge him on her first day. She hadn’t been kidding when she’d told him she wouldn’t put up with the football coach’s sh*t.

Gigi gave Merle the evil eye over her shoulder and then deliberately ignored Negan as he turned around and started to walk back in her direction. Moving back to the front of the crowd of students, she shooed the remaining football players out of her space with her hands, leaving Oscar in the middle of the floor trying to complete his first fifty push ups. “Your performance was inspiring boys,” she chided with light sarcasm as they headed towards the doors. “I hope you’ll keep your unsolicited opinions that dancing requires no athleticism to yourself in future, since I’ve proven to you the opinion is unfounded.”

While nods and mumbled apologies were offered by the players leaving the room, Oscar huffed out a, “Yeah, right,” loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, including Negan. This kid is f*cking pushing his luck! Negan picked up his pace towards the boy, prepared to ream the kid a new asshole.

Gigi walked over to Oscar, nonchalantly directing the rest of the students in the room to line up in rows behind him in position to cheer. Once everyone was in place, the new coach stepped up to the teen performing penance on the floor and placed one foot gently on his lower back, leaning some of her weight onto it to make the boy’s pushups much more laborious. She wanted to handle the boy’s mouthiness on her own. If his coach kept stepping in, he would invalidate her authority with the students. She needed to prove she was worthy of, and also expected their respect.

“Are you kidding me?” Oscar grunted up at her as he struggled to push upwards against the weight on his back.

“Not in the least,” Gigi assured him calmly before she called to the kids in front of her, “Let’s start where we left off people!”

Raising both eyebrows at the bitchy little thing practically standing on his running back, Negan caught the woman’s eye as she started to count out the starting beats of a cheerleading sequence. The coach looked down at Oscar, then back up to her, giving a single nod of approval at her response to his mouthiness. He’d let her handle this one, but he was still going to give her a raft of f*cking sh*t for not coming to him first about a problem with his players.

“I wanna see hips and butts moving, people! Use ‘em or lose ‘em!” Gigi joked with her students as they started to move, keeping eye contact with the jerk at the back of the room. Expecting him to be angry with her disciplinary measure, she was surprised when he nodded at her, slight as it was, before leaving. She still wasn’t going to meet him in his office, though, now or later. She bristled, thinking about how he'd patronized her.

___________

At four o’clock, Negan headed back into the phys ed wing of the building, swearing under his breath when he was just about trampled by a group of girls rushing out of the doors. “Sorry Coach!” one of them apologized as she brushed past him, continuing her conversation with her friends. “I’m so excited we made the team!”

Holding a hand up over his shoulder in acknowledgement of her apology, he kept moving, wanting to get to his office to grab his things, then go the f*ck home and relax.

“Can you believe we have somebody famous teaching at Mount Vernon?” Another group of students walked towards him. “My sister will die when she hears Gigi Sokolov is our coach!”

“Right? Wait til I tell my mom!”

Negan didn’t know what the f*ck they were babbling about, only taking in half of what they were discussing. He was tired, and just wanted them to get the f*ck out of his way so he could keep moving in the direction of his office. Spotting Merle at the far end of the empty hallway outside of the gym, he called, “I’ve got a f*cking bone to pick with you, asshole!” He hadn’t had the chance earlier, to give the man sh*t about keeping the new teacher's identity to himself when he’d texted about the hot new cheerleading coach.

Another dozen students barreled out of the gym into the hallway, all gushing about their fabulous new coach, once again referring to her as famous. “What the f*ck are they talking about?” he questioned his buddy, who had joined him by the doors leading into the gym as the girls walked by, squealing about how lucky they were.

His friend grinned at him, explaining vaguely, “Turns out your new neighbor doesn’t just dance for you, my friend.”

Negan looked the man, confused. He’d mentioned seeing Gigi dance in the dark when he’d come home from the Keg earlier in the week, keeping her inebriation and her tussle with her wine glass, to himself. “What the hell are you talking about Merle?”

Having overheard one of the office staff talking about the world renowned prima ballerina, the groundskeeper had looked her up online. Pulling out his phone, he tapped on one of the icons on the home screen. “Here,” he moved closer to the coach, flipping through his open internet pages before stopping on the one he was looking for.

Negan leaned in closer, smacking Merle’s free hand away to stop him from flicking his finger up the screen repeatedly to scroll, which was making it impossible for the coach to focus on anything on the page. The groundskeeper elbowed him in the chest in response, after which Negan shoved the man’s head to the side with his palm while grabbing the phone out of his hand.

“f*cker!” the redneck berated him with a laugh.

Negan stared at the screen, using two fingers to zoom in on one of the photos in a collection of many. Staring back at him was his beautiful, pain in the ass, neighbor. He was looking at a portrait taken about a decade before, in a mirrored dance studio. Gigi was dressed in a white leotard, tights, and purple satin toe shoes. Her side was to the camera. He recognized the unique purple shoes on her feet, though they looked brand new in the photo, without the wear and tear he’d seen out on the dock. She was on the toes of her far foot, knee slightly bent, her back arched so her head and hands hovered not far from the floor. A man the coach recognized as her husband, dressed all in black, was face forward in a casual stance behind her, with his hand underneath her curved back, supporting her weight effortlessly as her forward leg extended straight up in the air in front of him, toes pointed. His cheek rested on the back of his wife’s upside down calf, as he stared into the camera with a soft smile. In contrast, the look on his wife’s face was solemn, her head turned to look into the camera as well.

He scrolled once more before he stopping on a picture, his eyes taking in every nuance of the image which was fuel for a phys ed teacher’s wet dreams. The dancer’s perfectly toned body filled the frame of the photo. She was mid leap, several feet off the ground. Her front leg was extended in front of her, her back leg bent so her toes seemed as if they would touch the back of her head. Her torso and head were arched backwards supplely, as if her forward momentum was so great they'd been pushed backwards by its force. Her arms followed the line of her spine, extended gracefully beyond her head. She was wearing a sleeveless short unitard, her legs bare, revealing the sheen of workout warmed skin. The muscles in her thighs and calves were flexed, and so deliciously f*cking taut, as were the muscles in her arms, making Negan’s mouth start to water as he pictured his own hands running along her thighs. f*ckity, f*cking, f*ck.

“So her husband wasn’t always in a wheelchair,” Merle interrupted Negan’s fantasy with his observation.

“I wonder what the f*ck happened?” the coach responded thoughtfully.

__________

Gigi was glad her day was over. It had been long and difficult, but it had also been very satisfying. She had narrowed down several dozen girls and a handful of boys to two teams of fifteen for her varsity and junior varsity teams.

Right before lunch she had divided the teens in half, dismissing one half by telling them she’d set up snacks, desserts and drinks in the cafeteria at the other end of the hall. The group had raced out of the room at the promise of sweet potato chips and juice boxes. Once they were gone, she thanked the remaining students for coming and for their hard work, gently informing them they would not be moving forward in the tryouts. She had been certain she already knew who she wanted on her squads, but she’d wanted to push the remaining students to test their endurance, capabilities and attitudes under pressure.

When the rest of the teens had returned from the lunch room, they’d quickly caught on the others had been cut from tryouts, whispering among themselves both in excitement and nervousness. “So all the losers are gone?” Penny had snarked when she’d walked back into the gym with her friends. “I can’t believe some of them had the nerve to even show up! Did you see Evelyn Sanders? She couldn’t dance her way out of a paper bag!” The girl had laughed, her friends joining her. Gigi had wanted to cut the girl and her entourage with the first group to get rid of their toxic attitudes, but she had to admit their dancing and tumbling were worthy of a move to the next round.

At the end of the day after three more hours of practice, the coach had divided the remaining teens into two groups, asking one group to grab their things and walk with her to the cafeteria, advising the rest of the teens to remain in the gym. Penny and her friends were clearly shocked they were not all in the same group. She and Jojo were told to go to the cafeteria, while Frankie and Amber were directed to stay. Looking around as they’d left the gym, Penny had informed her friend, loud enough for the other students and Gigi to overhear, “We must be in the group who were picked for the squads, since that fat girl, isn’t going with us. I can’t believe she even showed up for tryouts!”

The coach had held her tongue, deciding to wait until after she talked to the group in the cafeteria to reprimand the girls about their name calling. When she had started speaking to the group once they entered the room, Penny’s smug expression changed to a look of confusion and then anger after the coach had thanked them for their hard work, then informed them as talented as they were, they had not been chosen for Mount Vernon’s cheerleading squads. The teacher had seen Penny fuming, and had once again ignored her huffing and snide comments as she thanked the group once more and told them she hoped she’d see them again during the school year.

Seeing the disappointment on the kids’ faces hadn’t been easy, and she’d tried to say some encouraging words to each individual as they’d left the cafeteria, aside from Penny and Jojo, since the two had stormed out of the room the before she’d finished talking. Gigi’s mood was immediately lightened, though, when she walked back into the gym and asked the group, “Would any of my new cheerleaders like a chocolate cupcake? I hid some in the bottom of my box so we could celebrate!” Realizing they had made the cut, cheers and squeals went up from the group, several of the kids running up to hug their new coach. Gigi had spent another twenty minutes chatting with the team members about her ideas and goals for the squads, before dismissing them at 4:00.

Loading her things into the back of her SUV, Gigi dropped into the driver’s seat, pulling out her phone to see if she had any text or voice messages. The text she found made her smile.

4:01 Misha

How did your first

day go, malyshka?

She had mentioned to her friend the night before, she’d be finishing work at four o’clock. She smiled at the timing of his message.

4:14

It was amazing!

4:15 Misha

I knew you wouldbe. ;)

Call you later.

4:15

XOXOXOXO

She dropped her phone into her bag as Marshall approached the car and pulled open the passenger side door with a big smile for his aunt. Gigi loved her nephew and niece with all her heart, and she felt so honored and so fortunate to be able to parent them. Their presence in her life was such a blessing, and they had been a source of great comfort for her in the last month.

The boy strapped himself into the seat, sweaty football gear and all, as his aunt smiled back at him. She waited for him to get settled before she asked him lightly, “Did you forget to tell me something about your football coach, Marshall?”

_________

Negan walked through the door leading from the garage into his kitchen, immediately heading to the master bedroom to shower. He was a man on a mission, after his shower, as he threw together some leftovers for dinner and carried them and his laptop, out to the table on the deck. He’d been intrigued by the little bit he’d learned about the woman next door, and he was compelled to find out more details about her. What had happened to her husband? Why the f*ck was she teaching phys ed at Mount Vernon, instead of dancing?

He was still pissed as f*ck she’d disciplined his players, and about her refusal to meet him in his office. He didn’t give a f*ck she’d been in the middle of tryouts. He was the head of the f*cking phys ed department. She should have dropped what she was doing and met him in his f*cking office. The woman was lucky he hadn’t lit into her right there, when she’d refused him in front of a room full of students. Coach Sokolov obviously didn’t know how things worked in his phys ed department. Even so, it had been abso-f*cking-lutely unacceptable.

Taking a bite of the chicken alfredo he'd whipped up for dinner two nights before, Negan turned on his laptop and clicked on the Google Chrome icon, then typed Gigi Sokolov into the search box. After perusing a few more photos of her, he clicked on the word News at the top of the page of search results. Scrolling down, he honed in on several blurbs about the death of her husband Yuri, dated the month before.

Fifteen minutes later, as he read a several year old TIME magazine article titled'The Prodigies'about the rise of the Sokolovs in the dance world, Gigi walked down the yard to the dock to take her afternoon swim. As she moved, Negan wondered what she would do when the weather got too cold for her water workout. After he ogled her ass and watched her dive in, he continued his reading. The several page article talked about how Mikhail Baryshnikov, who Negan recognized as the famous Russian dancer, had taken the pair under his wing when they had been new to the dance scene. His choreography, along with the beautiful couple’s talent, had sparked new interest in modern ballet. While the pair had danced together, ticket sales and profits had hit an all time high for the art. Apparently both the choreographer and his dancers were smart enough to strike deals with their ballet company to receive a percentage of the profits from all of the Sokolov's performances, making the three dance icons the highest paid in ballet history.

The coach took a break from reading to finish eating his cold chicken and pasta when he heard the repetitive splash of Gigi’s swimming in the distance, signaling her return. Negan studied her as she got out of the water, dried off and walked up to her house, looking at her with a different eye after reading she had been the brains and the driving force in all of the couple’s lucrative business deals. His neighbor wasn’t just a pretty ass, so to speak.

“I’m the one with the power when we're on the dance floor, but she’s the powerhouse when it comes to business,” Yuri had been quoted by the author.

The article had several photos, including one of the couple in their ritzy New York loft, which had been their home at the time the article had been published. After reading about their wealth, Negan couldn’t help but wonder what the f*ck Gigi was doing living in suburban Northern Virginia in a house that was worth a fraction of the value of their New York dwelling. He also wondered where in the timeline the kids had come to live with them. One of the blurbs he'd read mentioned she’d asked the press to respect the children’s privacy, and would not answer questions about them.

Before he knew it, it was after eight o’clock, the sun setting. He sat back in his chair, elbow on the armrest, his index finger running back and forth across his lips. His neighbor’s story was interesting, to say the least; small town girl, turned ballet royalty. She had been diagnosed with a meniscal tear and osteoarthritis in her knee a few years before, which had put her dance career on hold. She obviously could still dance, Negan thought to himself, but perhaps not at the level needed to continue her arduous career. He could sympathize with her plight since he'd had to stop playing basketball due to his own injury back in college. He still loved playing with his buddies, and hit the court as often as he could, but he always paid the price, in pain, for days afterwards.

The year before, Gigi's husband had suffered from a brain aneurysm. It had affected his coordination and balance profoundly, ending his dancing career. A second one, a few months later, had left him fully paralyzed on one side of his body, which explained the wheelchair. Negan was surprised to read Yuri had commited suicide. There was speculation he’d been depressed as a result of his declining health, and possibly from the physical changes to his brain after the aneurysm. It was thought he’d taken own life due to his severely depressed state. When the widow had been asked about the matter shortly after her husband’s death, she’d refused to comment.

No wonder she had danced with such confusion and anger in the mist on the dock. What her husband had done just f*cking sucked ass for the wife and kids he left behind. The woman next door seemed to be an ongoing thorn in his side, but now, having read her story, he had a tiny bit more understanding about why she was such a pill. A hot, talented, business savvy, f*cking pill.

After Negan had pieced together her history, he’d clicked on the Videos tab on the top of the search results, clicking a link for Youtube. He’d never realized ballet was so popular. One video, in which Gigi demonstrated a grand jeté, had over 4 million views. He watched one video after the other, once again impressed by the woman’s athleticism. He was mesmerized by the lifts and throws, watching snippets of them over an over, pausing at certain spots to try and dissect how they were done. The woman’s husband could toss her in the air like she was a sack of f*cking feathers. Along with Yuri’s strength, he knew Gigi’s grace was a significant part of the reason why they made the moves look effortless.

Finally turning off his computer, Negan sat in the dark for a time, enjoying the sounds of the water and the wildlife. As he was finishing the last of his beer, movement in the yard next door caught his eye, and he once again spied on the figure in the dark. She started to dance the minute her foot stepped onto the dock, leaping and twirling to the other end. Her mood was much different than it had been three nights before. She’s happy tonight, he thought to himself as she stepped and flitted and pranced. He didn’t watch her long before he gathered his things to go inside, since she wouldn’t need his help tonight.

Chapter 6: Crazy Bitch

Chapter Text

“You’ve dealt with men like him before, Gigi,” Misha reminded her over the phone, his familiar, rich Russian accent and soothing tone calming her agitation over her neighbor’s behavior in front of the other students. He always could calm her easily. “Hell, if you could handle me at my worst, you can handle this football coach.”

“True,” she chuckled, as memories of his nitpicking and patronizing attitude as he’d instructed her and Yuri at the ABT flooded her mind. Mikhail would push too hard, or criticize her too harshly when he wasn’t happy with her performance, and Gigi would get defensive. She would shut him down, refusing to talk to him, insisting, “Let’s continue.” The ballerina would give him the cold shoulder for the rest of their day, refusing to engage in conversation other than about dance, while Misha would try to overcompensate for his undesirable words or actions with attention and affection, making it clear he was sorry without ever apologizing. At the end of the day, the ballet king would corner her, wrapping his arms around her and atoning for his behavior by murmuring endearments such as, “You know I push you so hard because I know you can achieve perfection, malyshka. I have seen your perfection over and over, and this performance should be no exception.”

She would melt at his words, hugging him tightly as she acknowledged, “I know, Misha. It is just so hard to hear such harsh words coming from someone I respect and care for so much.” Gigi cared for him very deeply. The man had not only been her mentor, but had also her protector, her best friend, and family to her and Yuri while they lived and worked in New York.

Mikhail Baryshnikov had also been the man Gigi had harbored a secret crush on since the night she’d met him at the NYBC performance of Giselle. She had loved Yuri with all her heart, and he would always be the boy of her dreams, but Mikhail was the man of her dreams.

Her husband had been a good man, and Gigi had loved him desperately. He'd made it clear, over and over, she was the light of his life. They had climbed the overwhelming ladder to success together, and her husband had supported every dream, dance move and business idea she had come up with, letting her take the reins on most aspects of their lives. This wasn’t out of deference. Yuri was a momma’s boy, and had been more than happy to let Gigi take over mothering him when they married, much to her delight and chagrin. Since she was a control freak, they complimented each other well, but she had to admit there had been times when she would have liked her husband to take charge … of something. Anything, really. She would have loved him to have taken over paying the bills, checking in with their accountant, or looking over their business contracts before the couple signed them. She would have loved for him to simply pick what restaurant they’d go to for dinner on date night, or who would be on top when they made love, but it was all left to her to orchestrate, because Yuri liked to be taken care of. Misha, on the other hand, had always doted on Gigi and made sure she had the support she needed, since Yuri often didn’t notice when his wife was struggling with something, unless she spelled it out for him. Sometimes she just hadn't felt like spelling things out.

Because Yuri had let her make all the decisions, not offering much input about serious matters, Gigi had often found herself turning to Misha to bounce ideas off of, or to ask advice about business matters he had more experience with. While he was passionate and driven by emotion in dance and in his personal life, he was grounded and logical in his business decisions, and the ballerina found his advice invaluable.

For the most part, her close relationship with Mikhail did not bother Yuri, but on occasion Gigi’s husband would need reassurance Misha was only a mentor and friend to her, and nothing else. She would gently remind her partner, very truthfully, he was her soulmate, and no other man could take his place. She was his and his alone. Yuri had never known his wife had a crush on their mentor. She’d hidden it well from both men, because in her mind her crush on Misha had always been only that, a fangirl crush on a man who was well out of her league.

After Gigi’s husband had suffered his second aneurysm, which had changed his personality so drastically, she had been especially relieved she no longer had to reassure him of her love, because if he would have questioned her then about her feelings for him, after months of taking his uncharacteristic anger out on her, and living with the debilitating depression and mood shifts which had clouded every moment they'd spent together, Gigi would have had a hard time reassuring him she felt he was her soulmate, and he would always be her one and only. Gigi had taken her marriage vows very seriously, and remained committed to her husband through the absolute worst of "for better or worse".

Misha had continued to remain close with the couple after the Sokolovs had both left the dance world, and had moved to Northern Virginia. Misha still talked with Gigi several times a week, sometimes for hours. Once her life had changed so radically with Yuri’s declining health, her friend had been her lifeline, and had kept her sane despite all of the negativity and stress in her life. He’d also validated her frustration and sorrow over the change in her husband and supported her through the change in the couple’s relationship from loving, passionate partners to caregiver and patient. “Stop being so hard on yourself, Gigi. You are doing your absolute best for Yuri,” Mikhail had assured her when she’d expressed her guilt over the change in her feelings towards her husband, “What you are going through is perfectly understandable. He is not the same man he was a year ago, and he especially is not the same man you fell in love with.” It had broken Gigi’s heart to admit her to her friend and herself, he was right.

She knew Misha was right about her new neighbor as well. She had handled much bigger problems than Coach Smith, and she was sure she could find a way to make working with him easier.

_________

When Gigi had questioned Marshall about his neglect in mentioning Mount Vernon’s football coach was also their neighbor, her nephew looked more than a little sheepish in admitting he hadn’t mentioned it because he knew she thought the man was a jerk after the way he talked to her the day of his uncle’s funeral. “He definitely yells a lot ,” the boy had confided. “But he’s a great coach, and when you talk to him one on one, he’s actually pretty cool, you know?”

I do know, Gigi had wanted to tell him, because the coach had been so concerned and kind in taking care of her injury after the glass incident. Recalling how he’d he’d snapped at her when she’d shown sympathy over his wife’s death, after having been so nice to her minutes before about her childish behavior, she could only chalk the quick change in mood up to volatility. She had thought that night would have opened the door for them to behave like real neighbors, but the familiarity she’d assumed would exist after that night, had not.

She really didn’t want any more drama in her life when things had just calmed down for her and her family, so she’d just have to avoid the coach at home. It wouldn’t be difficult to do. They’d managed to ignore each other every day when she walked down the yard and back up, before and after her daily swim. He always seemed to be on his deck at five o’clock, enjoying a beer and reading, or doing some type of work on his iPad when she headed outside for her workout. It had become comically obvious they didn’t look at each other, or heaven forbid wave or say hi, even though they saw each other every day, at least twice, across their yards. The problem was, they now had to work together in the same department, and worse, he was the department head, so there would be meetings, emails and sporting events which would force them to converse, and even be in the same vicinity on a regular basis. It was absolutely ridiculous she had to think so hard about how to deal with the man. Gigi decided she would march into his office on Monday morning and talk with him to see if they could move forward with a better working relationship.

___________

“It’s about time, Coach Sokolov,” Coach Negan greeted Gigi when she walked into his office at seven-fifteen on Monday morning. The new teacher had made a point to arrive an hour and forty five minutes early to talk to him, knowing he started football practice at seven thirty, even though cheerleading practice didn't start until nine o'clock. “I take it your schedule is light enough this morning that you can grace me with your presence, since you were so busy you couldn’t meet me here on Friday like I asked.” He didn’t bother to look up as he talked to her, instead reviewing paperwork as he sat behind his desk.

He’s not going to make this easy. Gigi tried to remain nonplussed as he goaded her in his annoyingly reasonable tone of voice. She smirked, since he hadn’t given her the courtesy of looking at her, and keeping her tone of voice light she tried to sound innocently perplexed as she responded, “Perhaps you didn’t notice I was holding cheerleading tryouts on Friday until four o’clock. I thought I mentioned the fact to you when you demanded I meet you in your office, as if I were a child.” You jerk. She put both hands on his desk, leaning in and forcing herself into his space to see if it would prompt him to look at her. It didn’t. “Unfortunately, I couldn’t attend your impromptu meeting, but I did come looking for you when I was done for the day. By the time I packed up my gear and came to your office, you were gone.”

Negan dropped his pen on his desk and leaned back in his chair. Removing his reading glasses, he proceeded to chew lightly on the end of one of the earpieces. He studied the woman in front of him thoughtfully for a moment. You wanna play games with me? Let’s play. “Heh.” He slowly licked his bottom lip several times as he stewed about her response, finally starting, “Look Coach. There’s a way we run things here at Mount Vernon, and a way things are run in my phys ed department. I understand this is your first teaching job and there will be a learning curve for you. I’m assuming, since you used to dance with your husband, who was pretty much stuck with you, you haven’t had to learn to work and play well with others. That won’t fly here.”

No, he did not just … 'Stuck with me'? Could he be any more offensive? I think he's confused about who in this room doesn’t work well with others. Gigi knew she was starting to do the wide eyed, blinky thing which she always did when she was caught off guard, so she schooled her expression, purposely raising her right eyebrow at him as he continued his diatribe.

Negan leaned forward in his seat as he continued, putting his elbows on his desk to push back at her intrusion into his personal space. “We work as a team here, and when I feel there’s a problem, I may, in fact, call you into my office to discuss a better way to do things. When I do, I expect you to respect my request for a meeting. Since you have finally graced me with your presence when I only have a few minutes to talk to you before I have to be out on the field, I will tell you very quickly that in future, you need to come to me before you discipline my players, no matter how you’ve justified your actions in your own mind, and let me handle my boys. Thank you.” She’s not wearing the citrusy, vanilla stuff today. This one’s softer . Powdery, maybe? Doesn’t really fit her. He put his reading glasses back on, signed the bottom of the paper he’d been reviewing and started to clean up his desk so he could head outside for tryouts, dismissing her without words.

Oh, no, no, no, Coach. This is not how this is going to go. “Interesting.” She dropped her sarcastic, one word response on him while she formulated her reply, giving up her attempt to sound innocently perplexed, because he obviously liked to step on people who didn’t meet him on his own level. “Since we have a few minutes before you have to be outside, let’s talk about how I’m willing to work and play with others, Coach. I would have respected your request for a meeting, had you shown me respect instead of patronizing me by demanding my compliance in front of a room full of students.”

Her neighbor pursed his lips at her, noisily sucking air through his front teeth as she parroted his words again with disdain. “I also would have respected your request for a meeting,” Gigi informed him, “had you respected I was busy with tryouts, and respected my position as one which is as valuable as yours by picking a time when we both were free, instead of insisting I drop what I was doing and run with my tail between my legs, to your office.”

She watched the coach sit back in his chair once more, as he continued to study her, his head tilting to the side as he squinted at her, just as he’d done when she’d unloaded on him at her front door. Excellent!

“Furthermore,” she continued calmly, cutting him off when he opened his mouth to speak, “I prepared for this meeting by reading through the county’s employee handbook last night, because I wanted to be sure I understood both of our positions within our department. I was interested to find, Coach Smith, while the department head is responsible for the organization and oversight of the county curriculum for the phys ed department, it nowhere mentions you have the authority to make any kind of demands of me or my time, over and above what is required of other teachers in the department in order to institute said curriculum. Nor does it mention you have the right to dictate how students should or should not be disciplined by other members of the staff.”

Gigi was pleased to see Negan lean further forward, and while his countenance was the picture of serenity, she could see a tick in one of the taut muscles running down the side of his neck, belying his agitation. He really has beautiful eyes. Those long eyelashes ...

“Oh my,” the cheerleading coach suddenly declared dramatically as she looked at her watch. “It’s seven twenty nine. I don’t want to hold you up, Coach Negan, since I respect your position, your time, and the kids who will be waiting for you outside. I’d better let you go, since we're finished here.” Turning on her heel before he had time to respond, she pulled opened the door to his office and walked out, shutting the door behind her with a bit of a slam.

Negan sat at his desk for another few minutes, trying to calm his anger towards the woman who’d just left. What a rabid f*cking bitch.

I need to f*ck her.

________

After taking a minute to calm his ass down, the football coach left his office to head out to the football field for practice, stewing over his meeting with Gigi. He didn’t know what the f*ck was wrong with him, but he had a f*cking love-hate thing going on with his neighbor in his mind. More like a lust-hate thing, if I think about it. How the f*ck could anyone love her crazy ass? Her husband must have either been a goddamn saint, or more than a little f*cking crazy himself.

Of course he had admired her fine form from the minute he’d laid eyes on it in skimpy swimwear. What man wouldn’t? Ever since the night he’d first seen her dancing on the dock, though, and had conversed with her as he’d tended to her wounds, he’d been intrigued, and more than a little f*cking smitten with her. When he’d held her delicate hand in his as he’d cleaned her cuts, and had gotten a whiff of her scent, which had tantalized him with the intensity of a bong hit full of pheromones, he’d suddenly found her captivating in a very different way. Negan had been surprised he’d found her close physical presence on the dock comforting, of all things. What in the f*ck is that even f*cking about? It makes no f*cking sense at all. He was no longer only attracted to her as a body he’d like to climb on top of, and a puss* he’d like to f*ck. He now found her enticing. What had really done him in though, was how she had hung on his every word as he’d tended to her, as if his answers to her questions were of utmost importance to her and she would accept his wisdom with unconditional faith. It had stymied him, but he’d also found it more than a little f*cking appealing.

Not at all like their time on the dock, their meeting in his office had been more like the first time they'd met, the day of her husband's wake; there had been a hefty amount of crazed, estrogen fueled ranting. When she’d initially started talking to him in his office, her ridiculous, innocent act had made him f*cking fume, because he knew she was neither naive or confused, and it had pissed him off she was putting on the wide-eyed facade. He'd respected her more, once she’d done her one eighty and laid her acuity all over the f*cking table in front of him, showing him what the f*ck she was made of. He absolutely f*cking loved, in his own very twisted way, she’d told him in no uncertain terms she wasn’t going to lay down and take his sh*t, the sh*t he purposely threw at people to size them up, or to position them firmly under his thumb. Gigi had handed his sh*t back to him on a silver f*cking platter, giving him a whole different kind of hard on for her, as it were.

People rarely challenged him, but Negan had always enjoyed it when someone tried. He would shut that sh*t down immediately with his intimidating presence and razor sharp tongue, showing the pathetic wanna be who the real f*cking alpha was in their pack of two. Negan would cut them down in the blink of an eye, reminding them of their place.

This woman, though, this little thing dancing all the f*ck into and over his world, was challenging him in a big f*cking way. It was clear she wasn't trying to dominate, but instead was pushing back against his attempts to show her who was in charge and make her fall in line with the way he wanted his department run, whether the employee handbook f*cking okayed it or not.

Gigi was pissing him off, but he had to admit to himself she was also was bringing a little spark back into his life after months of f*cking gloom. He was utterly f*cking energized as he stepped onto the football field in front of his kneeling players. Even so, Coach Negan thought to himself as he approached the teens, she'd better learn to f*cking jump when I tell her to jump. The challenge for him would be to see if he could get inside her head, break her down and make her fall in line. The idea of it gave him a woody.

__________

Cheerleading practice had ended at four o’clock and Coach Sokolov was happy with how her day had gone. Marshall had informed her one of his new football friends was going to give him a ride, so she didn’t have to hurry to pack up to meet him after practice to take him home. She had dismissed the students and then laid on the gym floor on her stomach with her phone in front of her scribbling in a notebook as she played and replayed bars of popular songs on her phone, popping up intermittently to try out a series of moves she wanted to incorporate in her cheers for the squads. After getting lost in her choreography for a time, she noted it was almost six o’clock, so she began to put her things in her bag so she could finally go home and relax.

The day's practice had confirmed she’d chosen the perfect group of students for the her two cheerleading squads. There were some who had been on a squad since elementary school, when they’d cheered for the pee wee football league in their neighborhood, and many who’d started cheering in middle school. She’d also chosen a few diamonds in the rough, though. There were a handful of students she’d chosen for the junior varsity squad who had no previous cheerleading or dance experience but who could move. They picked up on her instruction quickly, and they were willing to work their butts off to keep up with those who were more experienced. Every coach wanted the best players for their teams. In the case of her cheerleaders, Gigi wanted those students who could be molded into the best in the state, and possibly even the nation.

Her squads were radically different than those in the group photos hanging in the trophy cases in the hallway outside Mount Vernon’s gym. The photos showed two squads full of skinny girls with long hair falling over their shoulders. In contrast, Gigi’s squads were different body types: tall, short, thin and stocky. Her squad members had long hair, short, dreads, and afros. She knew audiences were used to looking at a group of cheerleaders, the girl’s especially, who looked like those in the photos in the hallway. They expected cookie cutter Barbie dolls. Mount Vernon’s cheerleading coach was going to break from the norm, because she thought it would set a better example to have more diversity, and she was certain she could choreograph the girls, so their audiences would focus on the cheering and not on the teens’ looks.

Replaying her fantastic day in her mind, Gigi was also pleased with how she’d presented herself at her meeting with the football coach. She chuckled to herself as she thought about the tick in the muscle in his neck when she’d spelled out what she’d read in the employee handbook. Since she’d ended the meeting abruptly, to maintain control of the discussion, she had no idea how her future interactions with him would go. She just hoped he understood she wouldn’t let him bully her, especially in front of the students.

Looking around the gym as she packed up, she smiled as the shiny, lacquered, hardwood floor suddenly called to her. Other than dancing on the dock, which was limiting due to its slatted surface, and around her house, she hadn’t had the chance to truly dance in a long time. The large room, and the smooth floor were irresistible to her. Sitting down on the floor next to her duffel bag, she pulled off her athletic shoes and socks and pulled her ballet slippers out of her bag. Where most women carried athletic shoes to change into after they’d worn heels at work all day, the ballerina carried her ballet slippers in her bag to change into when she took her athletic shoes off. Today she wasn’t changing soley for comfort. She had been so distracted lately, she’d overlooked the exciting fact she would be working in a room which had a perfect floor, bigger than any she’d danced on alone. There would be times, especially before school started, when she would have the big beautiful floor all to herself, so she could dance to her heart’s content.

Her excitement taking her over, Gigi jumped up from the floor and hurriedly stripped off her baggy Mount Vernon tee shirt and shorts to reveal her short, tank unitard underneath. Unitards were her casual dancewear of choice, and they conveniently doubled as an undergarment. For a flat chested woman like herself, she lamented, the spandex in it was enough to keep her puppies under firm control while she danced. Unitards were designed to stay in place, so there was no worry about unintentionally flashing someone. Putting one on as soon as she dried off from a shower was habit formed years ago, and she rarely strayed from it. She had a few dozen of them in a variety colors.

Bending over, she unwrapped and rewrapped the ace bandage on her knee as tightly as she could tolerate it, for maximum support, wondering if her knee would allow her to dance the way she wanted to. She hoped the joint would allow her let loose without paying a huge price during or after her workout.

Scrolling through her playlists on her phone, she laughed out loud when she finally came across the right song to fit her mood. She cranked up the volume on the speakers at the front of the room and moved into the middle of the floor to position herself. Gigi had found the perfect song for the big empty building which had no ears to judge her music choice. She and Negan were the only teachers working for another two weeks when all of the teachers would return, and since five o’clock had come and gone, she was sure he’d be at home on his deck. The office staff, who worked all summer, were at the other end of the building, and she’d been told they left for the day at three o’clock during the off season. She may not get the chance to dance like a wild woman again, so she was going to take full advantage. She hit the play button on her music app. The music started with a scream and a heavy beat and Mount Vernon’s cheerleading coach felt the music and started to move, her laugh of delight drowned out by the noise.

_________

What a great f*cking day . Negan was ready to drop his ass into his Charger and head home. He needed a shower and a beer, not necessarily in that order. Sliding his iPad into his bag as he walked out of his office, he headed towards the door to the gym, just twenty feet down, across the hall, so he could cut through the room to get to the front door of the building faster.

A male voice yelling, “Aaaaaaalll righhhht!” suddenly pierced the air, the sound of a heavy metal guitar riff and drum beat forcing their way into the hall through the crevices between the doors which lead out of the gym. What the f*ck? The music didn’t sound like something the cheerleading squad would perform to, so he was curious as to what was going on in the room. Pulling open one of the doors, he was accosted by pounding rock music and the sight of Gigi, inches upon inches of silky skin and sinew on display, dancing fervidly across the expanse of the room.

Negan stopped in his tracks, one foot in the hall, one in the gym. His ears finally caught up with his eyes, as he watched her move, and his lips curved into a lascivious smile as he finally discerned the lyrics to the blaring song he’d never heard before, but definitely f*cking liked. My kind of f*cking song!

… Scream so loud, getting f*ckin’ laid

You want me to stay, but I got to make my way

Hey

You’re crazy bitch

But you f*ck so good, I’m on top of it

When I dream, I’m doing you all night

Scratches all down my back to keep me right on

Whaaaaaaaaaat the f*ck? This is not f*cking ballet … not with all of this hip grinding and titty shaking going on … Negan was mesmerized, watching Gigi move. No stiff legs, straight back, nose in the air, dancing today. No f*cking sir.

Take it off, the paper is your game

You jump in bed with fame

Another one night paid in full

You’re so fine, it won’t be a loss

Cashing in the rock, just to get you face to face

Oh, f*cking, my. Gigi. The football coach repeated her name in his head, drawing it out, enjoying the fluid, sensual sound of its French pronunciation. Gigi. The ballerina was sex on fire, strutting, spinning, darting, vaulting, pounding her fists into her hips to the beat, bending at the waist and gyrating her ass into the air behind her, all to the hard rock beat of the song screaming through the air. Fuuuuuuck, I want her to do that on my dick.

Gigi noticed Negan start through the door to the gym as she took off, sailing through the air in her favorite leap, soaring more than four foot above the ground, one leg extended forward, the other back. The grande jeté was effortless for her, after years of practice and performance, and she loved it because with it she could fly, if only for seconds. She followed it with eight turns on the beat, her upper arms parallel with the floor, forearms vertical, her hands clenched in fists as she spun across the floor like a top.

She pretended not to notice him standing in the doorway, because it felt so good to dance and she didn’t want any negative energy to bring her down. Frowning at the inconvenience, she toned down her dancing, avoiding the overtly sensual moves which the song had inspired. Of course he’s ruining my vibe. Hopefully he would take the long way around the gym, via the hallway, instead of walking through her dance space … Nope ... No such luck. After watching her for a bit longer, the jerk started on a diagonal path through the middle of the gym floor, not bothering to do the polite thing and stay close to the wall so he wouldn’t get in her way.

Hey

You’re crazy bitch

But you f*ck so good, I’m on top of it

When I dream, I’m doing you all night

Scratches all down my back to keep me right on

Finally remembering he was pissed at her, hot as all f*cking get out or not, Negan started across the gym, deciding to walk right the f*ck through the middle of her dance floor. You wanna dance, you’re going to have dance the f*ck around me.

The song started to sound frenzied with a guitar solo and chanting lyrics, as Gigi danced into her neighbor’s personal space for several beats before bounding away from him. His decision to walk to walk through her dance space gave her permission to get in his face, as far as Gigi was concerned, to let him know she could hold her own in this battle he’d created by walking into the middle of her dance. She wasn’t going to let his presence slow her down, or keep her from dancing exactly where she wanted.

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f*ck you so good

Flying towards him with a series of leaps and turns, she watched his eyes widen as she pivoted at the last second, inches in front of him, then twirled around him at high speed, so close he would be able to feel the breeze she was creating. Her dancing was as frenzied as the music, while her moves remained precise, and they caused their intended response. She smirked slyly at the man in front of her as she forced him to stop walking and back up a step, out of concern he’d run into her.

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f*ck you so good

Negan continued forward, determined not to break his stride again. Let her f*cking run into me.

Gigi couldn’t stop him again, but she definitely slowed his pace as she danced around and in front of him, ignoring him one minute, giving him a co*cky grin then next. When he was only twenty feet from the exit doors which would take him out of her reach, she charged him from behind, using a gentle grip on his shoulder to help launch herself into the air so she landed between him and the doors, about ten feet in front of him.

Once again the music changed, and the lead singer, sounding as if he was wrecked from a tumble with his woman, repeated his words of endearment. She stood, breathing heavily from her workout, her right hip pulsing upward on each beat as she stared the football coach down.

Crazy bitch.

Crazy bitch.

Crazy … bitch.

The music shifted back into high gear, and Gigi began to turn on the ball of her left foot, her right leg parallel to the ground, toes pointed. She turned again and again, matching the song’s pace and intensity.

Baby girl

You want it all

To be a star

You’ll have to go down.

Negan knew he should plow right by her, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as the dancer continued to turn in front of him, keeping eye contact with him as much as possible as she whipped around. He was fascinated by the way she used centrifugal force to turn faster, sometimes moving her raised foot into her other knee, then down towards her ankle to speed up her movement, as a figure skater would do. The closer the raised foot and leg were to the other, the faster she spun.

Take it off

No need to talk

You’re crazy

But I like the way you f*ck me

Gigi came out of her final turn on the last line of the song, and forcefully arcing her head forward and down, she flipped her legs into the air so they flew up and over her head and torso, towards the man standing in front of her, without her hands touching the ground. She completed her aerial, landing one foot, then the other, three feet in front of him.

I really am going to have to f*ck her. Soon. Negan ran his tongue between his teeth as he involuntarily nodded in appreciation of her show. The show she’d performed for him alone, to his new favorite song. The room was suddenly quiet, except for Gigi’s breathing, and Negan broke the silence, keeping his tone of voice casual. “Nice song. ‘Crazy Bitch’? Is that your theme song?” he inquired seriously, digging at her as he looked pleased with himself for the barb.

Genuinely laughing, Gigi turned to pick up her bag a few feet away, and headed through the doors, into the hallway, calling over her shoulder, “I actually thought of you when I came across the title in one of my playlists. See you tomorrow, Coach! Do you mind hitting the lights for me, please?” She did a little victory dance when the door closed behind her, knowing she’d won today’s go rounds with the department head, reveling in the picture of the expression he’d worn as he nodded at her after she’d landed in front of him at the end of the song. She practically skipped to her car to head home.

Very soon. Negan wrinkled his nose and gave a little head to toe shudder as he thought about what he’d like to do to Coach Sokolov, when he finally got the chance. Because he would get the chance.

Chapter 7: Call Me Governor

Chapter Text

“Prick!” Negan greeted the Mount Vernon’s principal enthusiastically after answering the phone in his office early Thursday morning. “Finally decided you’d give up jacking off for the summer and come back to work like the rest of us?”

“What can I say, Negan? My wrist was getting sore.” Rick Grimes drawled in his Georgia accent, pleased with his own quick comeback. He knew the man wanted to get a rise out of him, and he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. He’d been working with the football coach for many years, and he’d learned early on the man had more respect for those who held their own in a conversation with him. If he let the coach get a rise out of him, Negan would become relentless, poking and prodding, trying to push him over the edge into a blow up. It was as if he got a kick out of watching a person fume, and being the source of the aggravation.

The principal’s response actually made the coach laugh out loud. “What can I do for you this fine f*cking morning?” Negan inquired, getting down to business. It was seven twenty, and he needed to get out onto the football field with his newly chosen team. Their first game was coming up in a few weeks, and he was feeling a sense of urgency about whipping the teens into shape. He would not be f*cking happy if his team lost the first game of the season, especially since they were playing West Potomac, Mount Vernon’s biggest rivals.

“I got a call from Philip Blake this morning,” the principal briefed him.

The coach groaned at the news, inquiring, “What the f*ck does he want?” He couldn’t stand the asshole, finding him arrogant and pushy. Blake had attended University of Maryland a few years after he had, and three of his kids were, or had been students at Mount Vernon. His son had played football until he’d graduated a few years before, so Blake seemed to think he and the football coach had a kinship of sorts as a result of their commonalities. Negan only tolerated the man because he donated a lot of f*cking money to the high school’s athletic department. The money was sorely needed to replace outdated equipment and supplement the budgets for their various sports teams. The coach had played on the lawyer’s perception of their buddy-buddy relationship a few times over the last several years, calling the district attorney to chat about the phys ed department’s needs. Blake always donated based on Negan’s suggestions, so in return for donations, the coach had played nice with the man, pulling strings with a buddy at U of M for premium seats to Terrapins games and making sure Peter Blake was first string on Mount Vernon’s varsity team when the teen had played for them, even though he was a mediocre player, at best. The football coach’s efforts had been worthwhile, garnering a newly refurbished gymnasium and an assload of brand spanking new equipment.

“He was calling to let me know he would be here at nine o’clock this morning, and he wanted to meet with both of us. He’s griping about the fact his daughter Penny wasn’t chosen for the cheerleading squad this year, and complaining the new coach didn’t treat her fairly. You know anything about the matter?” Grimes inquired, hoping for some information to work with at the meeting.

“No, I don’t,” Negan was unaware the leader of the Mean Girls didn’t make the cut, since he didn’t give a flying f*ck. “But I’ll find out the story before nine.” Little did Coach Sokolov realize, she was stirring up some sh*t in his department, and not only with the department head. He needed to fill her in on the importance of keeping Philip Blake happy. He was fairly certain he knew exactly what her response would be, and it wasn’t going to be pretty. He hung up with the principal, pissed his morning’s schedule was going to be f*cked up by the meeting with Blake.

Negan headed out of his office, walking the two doors down to the Gigi’s office. He knocked, taking in the cluster f*ck of decorations on her door, rolling his eyes at the brightly colored girly ass flower and heart wall decals she’d stuck all the f*ck over it, along with a dry erase board at eye level which had “I’m in!” written in hot pink marker on it, with a tiny heart dotting the “i” and the exclamation point. Jesus Christ.

The sound of his neighbor’s laughter floated through the door, and he co*cked his ear toward the sound, trying to recognize the male voice laughing along with Gigi’s as he knocked.

“Come in!” he heard his neighbor call from inside before breaking out in laughter once more. The football coach opened the door, surprised to find Merle sitting in a chair across from the cheerleading coach, while she sat behind her desk. He had a carry-out cup of coffee in his hand, as did Gigi, and they were leaning towards each other, elbows on her desk, chuckling as if they were sharing the latest gossip.

What the f*ck is this about? “Sorry for interrupting your coffee klatch,” Negan jibed before turning to his buddy. “Don’t you have some f*cking work to do?”

Gigi raised her eyebrows at Merle, as if to ask him if he was going to put up with the coach’s attitude. Grinning at her, he retorted, “Oh, that’s right! Ya asked me to hunt ya up some Midol for your chronic PMS. Sorry. I forgot.”

“f*ck off,” Negan responded, holding the door open with one hand while swinging his other arm grandly, gesturing for the groundskeeper to leave. Gigi stifled a giggle at the men’s antics, as she wondered what the department head wanted with her, since he obviously wasn’t looking for his friend.

“So we’re good?” Merle turned back to her to finish up their conversation, nodding as if prompting her to say yes.

“Yes, we’re good, Merle, as long as you don’t try to make a fool out of me again,” She raised one eyebrow at the groundskeeper as she scolded him. He had brought her coffee as an apology for keeping the football coach’s identity from her on her first day of work. She really wasn’t worked up about his prank, but he’d looked so apologetic when he entered her office she had decided it might be fun to make him squirm a little bit. It had been.

“Good,” he smirked, smacking two fingers lightly on the desk as he got up to leave. “Screw you, asshole,” he said goodbye to his friend without looking at him, walking out the door and closing it behind him.

“You guys are close, huh?” Gigi laughed, gesturing to the seat Merle had vacated, sitting back in her chair and taking a drink of her coffee before setting the cup on her desk. She rubbed at the wounds on her right hand with her left thumb, something she seemed to do often since she'd had her stitches removed, trying to work out the stiffness in the scarred skin.

“Obviously ,” Negan replied as if the question were ridiculous, making her chuckle again.

“Do I need to get out my boxing gloves, or will this be a civil conversation?” Gigi kept her tone light, while letting the department head know she didn’t want to start another day off by fighting with him.

“Let’s try for civil,” he suggested as if he wasn't sure it was possible. "We'll see how it goes." Sitting down across from her, he looked around her office. She had decorated the room, a royal blue shag area rug on the floor, light, gauzy fabric draped along the wall full of windows behind her desk to hide the ugly rolling shades which were standard in all of the school’s offices. To her right was a comfortable looking loveseat with brightly colored throw pillows, and she’d hung large, framed ballet posters on the light blue cinder block walls. He recognized the puss*fied Baryshnikov guy rehearsing with Gigi in one of the framed prints. They were in a studio setting, wearing casual dance clothes. The other poster was a photo of the Sokolovs during a performance. Yuri had obviously just launched his wife into the air, his arms above his shoulders, still raised in their trajectory. Gigi was spinning in the air, and the photographer had caught her as she faced the camera. “So, what’s it feel like to fly?” Negan asked her, pointing his index and middle fingers at the poster on the wall.

“It’s amazing!” she replied, excitement in her voice as she looked at the photo. She smiled for a moment before she turned to look at him, sharing, “There’s nothing like it.” She had a sparkle in her eye as she gushed her response, shaking her head for emphasis.

“You must have to trust the f*ck out of someone to let them toss you around like that,” he mused as he studied the photo once more.

“You do,” she answered simply. “But even when you trust them they drop you."

“Seriously?” Negan’s head whipped back around to her, concern obvious on his face.

Gigi smiled at his surprise before affirming, “Seriously. I ended up with a sprained wrist, and a broken collarbone after being dropped by my husband on different occasions. She shook her head at the memory of Yuri, beside himself because his mistakes had caused her harm.

Dumb ass dropped her? Stupid f*ck. You throw her up, you catch her. How hard can it be? “You miss dancing?” What the f*ck is wrong with me, asking her all this personal sh*t that’s none of my f*cking business?

Gigi was surprised by his questions and his concern, and studied the enigma in front of her for a moment before revealing softly, “Very much. I almost feel like I’ve been lost for the last few years. Dancing was my whole world." Looking once more at the photo on the wall, her corners of her mouth quirked up for a few seconds before they dropped into a frown. "I went from a life immersed in dance, to living on the outside, and it’s been a hard adjustment. I miss it every day.” She frowned as she studied the coffee cup in front of her, deep in thought, before correcting herself wistfully, “I long for it every single day.” She suddenly looked up at her neighbor wide eyed, startled by her own honesty, and she pulled herself out of her reverie. “I know you didn’t come to hear my talk about myself. What can I do for you?”

Negan could see she was embarrassed she’d opened up to him, but he kind of f*cking liked it. I wanna know all the f*cking secrets she doesn’t tell anyone else. “It’s a shame you had to give it up,” he sympathized before changing the subject. He filled her in on the phone call from Penny Blake’s father, and his meeting with the man at nine o’clock. “Why didn’t she make the squad this year?” he inquired.

“There were quite a few reasons," Gigi started. "She was late for tryouts, she hadn’t fully learned the routine which had been posted in advance on the school site, despite the fact I specifically posted the kids should be ready to perform it in full. She had a bad attitude and she and her friends made a point of belittling and body shaming several of the other students for all to hear. In the end I felt she would be a detriment to the squad, and in all honesty there were kids who were on time, prepared, supportive of others, and had a great attitude all day, despite the fact I worked them to the point of exhaustion.” Gigi rattled off the long list of Penny’s offenses before adding, “ And she rolled her eyes at me so many times I was ready to spit!”

It amused the football coach how the volume of her voice rose a bit with each point she made, and by the time she was finished listing off the girl’s offenses, the ballerina was exuding an attitude which would rival Penny Blake’s. “That bad, huh?” he goaded her. “That it would make you want to spit? Did it make you want to curse a little bit, too?” He raised his eyebrows at her as if he was genuinely concerned about her upset.

co*cking her head at him, Gigi folded her arms over her chest, feigning being perturbed while asking, “Are you making fun of me, Negan?” She was enjoying their banter, wishing they could interact this way all of the time.

“Abso-f*cking-lutely,” he deadpanned, making her laugh again, melting her agitation over the matter. “Do you know who Penny’s father is, Gigi?” His tone was serious as he questioned her.

“Carol filled me in,” she informed him. “I’m not impressed, even if I am holding practices in the Philip H. Blake gymnasium.”

“You may not be impressed, but you need to realize what pissing him off could mean for the school. The phys ed department and our sports teams have been underfunded for the last decade. Without the district attorney’s yearly donations, we’d have to make serious cuts in the department.” Negan paused for a moment, before getting to the crux of the problem. “Blake is an arrogant prick. He’s going to come into this meeting demanding Penny be put back on the cheerleading squad, and he's going to expect compliance in exchange for this year's donation.”

Gigi nodded at him thoughtfully before questioning, “Who has the ultimate authority in the matter, Coach?” She was questioning if he and Principal Grimes were going to force her to work with Penny Blake, whether the girl was worthy of a position on the squad, or not. More important, she was asking if they were going to invalidate her in the eyes of Philip Blake, his daughter, and the other students on the squad.

After a minute of silence, Negan leaned forward in his chair, trying to read her, and contemplating how to answer her question. It would absolutely f*cking suck if he had to f*ck her over for the donation, because then he’d never get into her f*cking panties. The school’s running track was crumbling, though, and he’d found a contractor, a former Mount Vernon alumni who was willing to cut them a serious break on the cost of resurfacing.

The cheerleading coach waited for his response, wondering what she would do if he and the principal insisted she work with Penny. It wasn’t a good sign her neighbor almost looked conflicted as he started to speak. “Look, Gigi, I’d love to be able to tell you the man’s money isn’t as important as making the point that his daughter is a royal bitch. I’d love to f*cking stand on your moral high ground with you to keep her off your squad, but my track is falling apart. Blake’s money is what is going to buy us a new one, since the county can’t fit it into the budget for another five years. If we don’t resurface, my buddy Simon’s track team falls apart when they have no place to practice, and his two dozen students lose their sports team." Gigi nodded her head in understanding as he went on, "I know four of his kids are counting on college athletic scholarships for their performance in track this year, and they’ll lose their f*cking chance if the track program folds. So while I’d love to tell Philip Blake he can go f*ck himself, you know the truth. Just like me. It would be hard to throw away tens of thousands of sorely needed dollars.” He shook his head in frustration as he lamented, “Christ, you would think the f*cking county would throw money at us, since my department hasn’t spent all of the small amount of money we’ve been allotted for the last several years, thanks to Blake’s donations. But they keep telling me there’s no money in the budget.”

Gigi could hear the frustration and passion in his voice as he spoke about his department’s need for Mr. Blake’s donations and his concern for the kids in need of scholarships, but she could also hear his conflict over forcing Penny on her, which surprised her, especially since they had been at odds since the moment they’d met. She would have expected him to tell her she would have to suck it up and live with the Mean Girl on her squad. It was clear he agreed with her points, but it all came down to the almighty dollar. “How does Principal Grimes feel about the matter?”

“He’s in the same place I am about this,” Negan informed her. He leaned on the desk as he admitted softly, “Don’t think we don’t realize what this means for you, Gigi. How it will make you look when she suddenly shows up for cheerleading practice after not making the squad … what it’ll do to the morale of your squad.” He stared at her, as if he wanted to say more, but he remained silent.

“So it’s pretty much a done deal in your mind, that Penny will be on my varsity squad?” she challenged him without malice.

“I don’t see a way around it.” The department head admitted, “Do you?” Negan was surprised she wasn’t fighting him on the matter. He gave her points for being a realist.

Negan was startled when she suddenly sat up straight, all business as she announced, “I have some phone calls I need to make before things get rolling at nine o’clock.” To his annoyance, she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and tapped on the screen a few times before putting the device to her ear, obviously waiting for someone to pick up on the other end. After a few seconds she gushed into it, “Jessica? Hi, it’s Gigi Sokolov. Hiiii! ... I know! It has been too long. I miss seeing you and DeeDee!” she prattled into the phone before asking, “I’m sorry, Jess, can I ask you to hold for one sec?” She lowered the phone to her lap as she looked back at Negan where he sat across from her with his fingers entwined on the desktop. Leaning forward, she reached out with her free hand and gently tapped the back of his hand with her index finger before resting it there. “I want you to know I hear your dilemma, Negan, and I understand why you feel you have no recourse other than to concede to Philip Blake, but as you know, I’m not the kind of woman who goes down quietly when she’s challenged by an arrogant, strong willed man.”

The football coach huffed out a laugh when she winked at him and raised her phone back to her ear, apologizing to the woman on the other end of the call, “Sorry to make you wait. Do you have a minute to talk?”

While Negan appreciated the fact she understood why the school needed to work with Philip Blake, he was curious as to what the f*ck she thought she was going to do about the matter. He was more than a little f*cking miffed she needed to make some personal f*cking phone calls before her cheerleading practice started at nine, and had ended their meeting before she could explain herself. f*ck, she’s a piece of work.

___________

Walking to the administration office an hour later, Negan replayed his conversation with Gigi, in his mind. He’d been surprised she hadn’t gone all crazy on him at the idea Penny would be forced onto her varsity cheerleading squad, bad attitude or not. While he was grateful for what seemed to be acceptance of the matter, he was still pissed at the way the meeting had ended, trying to figure out what she meant when she said she wouldn’t go down quietly when challenged by a strong willed man. He took a minute to contemplate whether she would go down quietly on his strong willed co*ck. Or would she moan? Would she make little mewling noises? Would she sputter and gag on my dick as I pump it in and out of the back of her throat? He gave a little head to toe shudder at the thought, before adjusting himself by palming the outside of his pants in the empty hallway outside the main office, then heading inside .

“Olivia!” he greeted the stocky, dark haired woman at the front desk as she hung up at the end of a phone call. He walked around behind her, leaning down to whisper in her ear, enjoying the way she trembled in both nervousness and excitement at the feeling of his breath on her neck. “Would you be a lamb and get me some lemonade? I know I saw some of that good stuff in the vending machine in the faculty lounge.”

“Y-Yes, Coach,” she stuttered, quickly glancing at him out of the corner of her eye when he stayed in position, close to her ear, for several seconds after he’d finished speaking.

He made sure his breath tickled the sensitive skin under her ear as he pulled a fiver out of his wallet and handed it to her over her shoulder. “Get one for yourself, too, doll. My treat.”

“Th … th-th … thank …” the woman finally gave up her attempt to be polite, and huffed in exasperation, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose with her index finger. Negan chuckled as he stepped back and watched the receptionist stumble up out of her chair and down the hall in the direction of the vending machine.

Heading down the hall to Rick’s office, he slowed when he heard the sound of Philip Blake’s smarmy voice. The asshole clearly wasn’t talking to the principal. “Just call me Governor, sweetheart. Everyone does, since it looks like I’m a shoo in for the election in November.” Sweetheart? Who the f*ck is he calling sweetheart? It dawned on him the cheerleading coach had invited herself to the meeting. Ahh, f*ck. What the f*ck is she up to?

Entering the office, the football coach found Rick sitting behind his desk, Gigi and Blake occupying the two chairs across from him. As he approached the District Attorney, the man immediately stood to greet him with a smile and a hand shake, slapping him on the upper arm. “How the hell are you, Negan?”

“Busier than a one armed pimp at a bitch slapping contest, Philip,” Negan quipped. “Getting ready for the first game of the season.”

“Oh, yeah? How’s the team looking since Peter left?”

Much f*cking better, asshole. “You know we actually are looking pretty damn good this year, surprisingly, even without your boy.” Negan had never had it in him to kiss Blake’s ass, but he did get a huge f*cking kick out of feeding the man line after line of bullsh*t, and watching him eat up every word.

As he spoke, he moved towards a third, empty chair against the wall beside Rick’s desk, to take a seat, watching Gigi subtly move forward to the edge of her chair while the attorney had his back to her, turning her body, and leaning slightly towards the man before he sat back down. Getting all the f*ck up in his space. Negan co*cked an eyebrow at her, and she winked in response as Blake was busy settling back in his chair.

“So, should we get this meeting started? I have a meeting in DC in an hour, and you know how traffic and parking can be,” Philip explained once he was seated, turning to the woman next to him.

“Yes, please,” Gigi responded before Principal Grimes or Negan had a chance. “I know we are cutting into the middle of Coach Negan’s football practice, and cheerleading practice normally starts right now, so hopefully we can make this quick.” Her request was more of a demand, letting the man know he wasn’t the only one with commitments. It was a demand coated in sugar as she smiled at him with a tilt of her head. “I understand you have some questions about why Penny wasn’t chosen for one of the cheerleading squads?” she added, her voice expressing genuine concern.

Oh, Gigi. Look at f*cking you, getting right to the f*cking point. She hadn’t even been invited to the f*cking meeting, Negan mused, but she had managed to take it over before it even started. He remembered her husband’s quote in the article he’d read, about how she was the powerhouse when it came to business. She was clearly not kowed by Blake’s status, used to working with the rich and famous. Despite her petite frame, her presence was huge, and her body language let Phillip know, in a non-threatening way, she wasn’t intimidated by him. Her elbow rested on her chair’s armrest nearest him, putting her closer to the man, and she crossed her far leg over the one closest to him, in a gesture which intimated she was comfortable with him in her space.

Her brown eyes looked right into Philip’s as she spoke, her face only a few feet away from his. It was clear to everyone in the room she was nothing but earnest. The football coach and the principal looked at each other, giving a nod to signal their approval of her taking control of the meeting. As unassuming as she was, it was clear they had no choice in the matter. For the time being, Coach Sokolov would be in charge, which made the other coach, the one who was used to always being in charge, more than a little f*cking nervous.

The politician shifted in his seat as he held his ground with Gigi’s intrusion into his space. It was very subtle, but Negan could see his internal debate as to whether he should back away from her. In the end he decided against it, making the coach smirk to himself.

“Yes, I do, Coach Sokolov,” Blake affirmed, as Gigi listened with avid interest. “Penny came home from cheerleading tryouts very upset she hadn’t made the squad this year. I told her I was sure there must be some misunderstanding which can be rectified. It seemed odd to me she didn’t make the cut, especially considering the fact she held the position of captain for the last two years, on Coach Daniels’ squad.”

Negan caught Gigi’s eye as the man spoke, and he raised his eyebrows in question, suddenly very concerned about what her response would be. The coach had expected to placate Blake quickly to ensure his donation to the school, and then figure out a way to put Penny back on the varsity squad without undermining Gigi’s authority. He didn’t want to end up getting f*cked because he’d relinquished control of their gathering.

Gigi held her neighbor’s eye as she started to speak, before dragging her eyes back to Philip’s. “Unfortunately, there was no misunderstanding, Mr. Blake. I had my pick of exceptional candidates, and Penny’s performance at tryouts didn’t meet up to those of the majority of other students." She looked perplexed as she added, "Knowing your daughter had headed the varsity squad in previous years, I was surprised her performance was suboptimal. In the end, there was no way I could choose her for either of the squads, when the other students’ performances and work ethics were better.”

f*ck it all to f*cking f*ck, Coach Sokolov. Way to royally f*cking f*ck me over. God f*cking damnit. Negan shifted in his seat, trying to catch her eye, to warn her against further criticism of Penny.

“Work ethic?” the DA narrowed his eyes at Gigi’s explanation, obviously not happy with her response.

“Yes,” the cheerleading coach replied, calmly listing off Penny’s tardiness, lack of preparedness, and general disrespect. She made sure to keep her tone neutral, avoiding showing any upset with the teen’s behavior. “Perhaps she was having a bad day,” the coach touched the DA’s arm, trying to soften her criticism, by suggesting the girl’s performance may have been atypical. “As you can imagine, it would be hard for me to select her over the students who were respectful to myself and others, and knew the routine in full. In the real world you only get one shot, and rarely are there exceptions. Penny didn’t display any sort of passion or desire to be on Mount Vernon’s cheerleading squads. It was more the opposite, in fact.”

“ My understanding is,” the attorney challenged her, "you ran your tryouts like a Broadway audition. Do you really think it’s fair to a group of teenagers, to hold them to standards to which they’re not accustomed? This isn’t Broadway, Misses Sokolov. It’s high school.” The politician was getting more and more agitated the longer the conversation went on, cracks forming in his charming facade.

“I don’t know what ‘fair’ would have to do with it, Mr. Blake,” Gigi retorted calmly. The coach remained unphased by his criticism of her methods. “At the high school level we’re trying to prepare students for the real world, aren’t we? If Penny were interviewing for college, or a job, would she get a second chance if she showed up unprepared, and didn’t meet the level of the other people interviewing for the same position?”

Negan looked at her incredulously. Is she f*cking kidding me? She knows how this asshole operates. His neighbor was smart enough to realize Blake could pay Penny’s way into any position his little girl desired. Oh sh*t. She is f*cking backing him into a goddamn corner.

Gigi knew the real answer to her question, but she also knew there was no way the man would be foolish enough to admit his daughter's mediocrity would be ignored if opened his wallet. Penny absolutely would get a second chance, or her poor performance would be overlooked, as long as her daddy continued to grease wheels and palms for her. It made the coach sad to think the man would encourage her to rely on his money and power, instead of encouraging his daughter to excel, so she could make her own way.

“When I was Penny’s age I was auditioning and dancing for the New York City Ballet, and the expectations were much higher than what I required of our students at tryouts last week. I wouldn’t expect them to perform at a level I personally wasn’t capable of at their age, Mr. Blake.”

Again, Penny’s father wouldn’t be able to contradict the coach, because to do so would also mean admitting his daughter couldn’t meet up to the standards the coach herself had met in high school. While Negan was impressed with the wily woman sitting across the room, his own agitation was growing by the minute, along with Blake's. It was clear the only way he would be able to save his donation was going to mean contradicting and invalidating the cheerleading coach, which he had wanted to avoid. He was f*cking pissed she’d decided to take her current tact with the politician, after their discussion in her office, an hour before.

A muffled notification chime sounded, and Philip pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, staring at Gigi with narrowed eyes for several seconds before he finally apologized, “Pardon me. Duty calls,” before viewing a message on its screen and starting to type a response.

Gigi had sensed Negan’s growing aggravation when he'd shifted in his seat several times while she and Philip had spoken. She finally looked at her neighbor, knowing he wasn’t going to be happy with her. He was obviously angry, his brow furrowed and his jaw clenching and unclenching as he stared at her. She shifted her gaze to the principal while Blake was busy with his phone.

Negan's anger grew when a look passed between Gigi and Grimes, the woman co*cking her head slightly towards her neighbor just before Philip dropped his phone back in his jacket pocket and looked up, ready to resume the meeting. The football coach leaned forward in his seat, about to chime in to try and move the meeting back in the direction it needed to go, when he saw the principal subtly raise a palm in his direction, behind his desk, a signal to stop him from interjecting, his eyes imploring him to remain quiet. Sitting beside Rick’s desk, the coach could see the gesture, while the two people in front of the desk could not. What the sh*t? What the sh*t!

Philip Blake was obviously tired of letting the cheerleading coach one up him. When he looked back up at Gigi, he was in no way trying to hide his anger with her. She was taken aback at what she could only describe as loathing, in his eyes. She held her ground physically, despite her impulse to back out of his space, and hid her shock at his expression.

“I honestly find it hard to believe, after three years of outstanding performance with the cheerleading squads, my daughter suddenly lost her way, Coach Sokolov. What I more suspect is your tryout process was flawed. If you’re smart, you’ll admit you made a mistake, and reconsider placing Penny in the position of head cheerleader for the varsity squad.”

“I’m sorry, Mister Blake, but I simply can’t justify putting Penny on my varsity squad.” Though her emphasis on the word “my” was subtle, it was clear she was taking full responsibility for turning down his request, trying to leave the principal and the head of the department out of the matter.

From where he sat against the wall, Negan was watching the school’s track program crash, and go up in flames, and he was sure his head was going to f*cking explode right along with it.

Philip Blake was smiling at Gigi, but his smile was ugly and false, his eyes filled with anger. “I’m sorry to hear that, Coach Sokolov.” He shook his head before looking back and forth between the other two men in the room. “You gentlemen have nothing to say in this matter?”

“Mister Blake, I have to defer to head of the cheerleading program. I can’t, in good conscience, override her authority in the matter. I trust her judgement,” the principal informed him.

“Heh,” Penny’s father looked at each person in the room, one by one, his edgy demeanor suddenly shifting back to smiling and friendly, as he had been at the beginning of their meeting. Standing up, he abruptly announced, “I need to get going.” He started to head out of the office but stopped, turning to look at Gigi with a charming smile. “It was nice to meet you, Coach Sokolov.” His grin turned into a look of concern as he added, “I was sorry to hear about your husband, Yuri. My wife is … well was ... a big fan of you and your husband. We saw you dance at the Kennedy Center five years ago. Beautiful performance.”

“Thank you,” she responded, trying to hide her confusion at the sudden turn of the conversation.

“Suicide wasn’t it?” the district attorney questioned her. “It’s funny, in a case like his, how things aren’t always as they appear on the surface. My understanding is his friends and family were surprised he took his own life. Said it wasn’t like the Yuri they knew.” He co*cked his head to the side as he studied Gigi as if he was deep in thought.

“I think we were all shocked,” she admitted softly, standing up so she could more easily look him in the eye. His discussion of the personal details of her husband’s death when he barely knew her was inconsiderate, and boorish. Bringing the matter up in front of her colleagues was unconscionable. He was clearly trying to unnerve her, but what he was hedging at, she didn’t know.

Negan watched one corner of the man’s mouth quirk upward as if he were trying to hide a smile. The f*cker was enjoying digging at the widow to see if he could unnerve her and reestablish dominance. The coach knew the game well, since he, himself was the f*cking master of it. As pissed as he was at Gigi, he wasn’t going to let the sh*thead bully her about her husband’s death. It was still too raw for her, and hit too close to home for the football coach coach. He didn’t know what the f*ck he was thinking when he stepped between the asshole and his neighbor and calmly reminded the prick, “You said you had to go, Philip?” letting the man know someone was watching out for the woman he was trying to break down.

Finally dragging his eyes away from Gigi’s, Blake turned to Negan, letting out a small huff before he walked from the room. Negan moved to follow him, hoping he could salvage the track team from it’s now impending demise. f*ck! As he turned to go, he felt a gentle touch on his forearm.

“Negan, I …”

The cheerleading coach's expression was full of concern when he turned to look at her, but not about Blake and his digs about her husband. His neighbor rubbed his arm with her thumb as her fingers gently wrapped around it, and she looked up at him, worry in her eyes. Worry about what his response would be to the outcome of the meeting. He found her concern incredibly f*cking amusing, and was livid at how she'd dicked him over.f*ck you and your concern.

“Don’t!” he cut across her with a lowly growl, so as not to be heard outside of the office. Jerking his arm away from her, he hurried after Penny’s father. “Philip!” Gigi and Rick heard in the distance as the football coach obviously tried to catch the man’s attention before he left.

“I’ll talk to him, Gigi,” the principal reassured her. “I can try to catch him during his lunch hour and explain everything.”

“Thank you, Rick, but I’d better handle it. This is my mess. I need to fix it.” Negan was angry with her because in his mind, she’d just orchestrated the end of his buddy’s track team, and athletic scholarships for some of Mount Vernon’s students. Things weren’t as they seemed, luckily, but she suspected even the best of outcomes for the track program wouldn’t necessarily assuage the football coach’s anger towards her. Call it a hunch.She shook her head at the prospect.

Chapter 8: Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

Chapter Text

4:45 PM Carol

How bad was Negan?

4:46

Red face,

bulging vein on

his forehead. :(

4:47 Carol

Oooooh. That’s bad, Gigi .

4:48 Carol

Guttural, husky voice?

Looked like he was snarling?

4:49

Yes!!!!!

4:50 Carol

You’re lucky he left

the room. Steer

clear of him for

a few months :-D

4:51

Sure. That’ll be

easy to do. :(

4:52 Carol

:0D

ttyl

The two women had started their conversation talking on the phone, Gigi describing how her meeting that morning with Philip Blake, Principal Grimes and Negan had played out, but a few minutes into the discussion Carol had hurriedly announced her husband Ed was home, and she needed to go, ending the conversation abruptly. Several minutes later Gigi’s friend had continued the conversation via text, and they had gone back and forth for five minutes, Gigi was sure, because Ed was in the shower. Her friend had probably been texting while putting dinner on the table, and it was obvious his shower was now finished, since her friend had disappeared from the conversation suddenly.

Carol had confided, years ago, Ed was always cranky when he got home from work, and expected dinner to be on the table when he got out of the shower. She had made excuses for him, blaming his daily foul mood on a job he hated. Gigi had noticed, however, the man’s dinnertime crankiness, and the way Carol could never talk while her husband was home, were only two of many oddities which made the ballerina question whether there was more to the story.

Carol had met Ed Peletier when she and Gigi were living in New York. The handsome pharmaceutical rep had been recently transferred from his home state of Georgia to the company's office in the city. He and his colleagues happened to be sitting next to the two girlfriends at a trendy Manhattan bar during happy hour. The dancers were celebrating Carol’s twenty first birthday, and they had dressed up and splurged on a bar where the drinks were ridiculously priced compared to their neighborhood pub. The young man on the barstool next to Carol had looked and sounded awkward in the upscale atmosphere with his heavy southern accent, dressed in his off the rack, ill fitting business suit and worn dress shoes. He was on the fringe of the conversation with his peers, who were obviously comfortable in the posh co*cktail lounge. Ed had immediately honed in on the young, beautiful, vodka buzzed Carol, with her long eyelashes and long, curly, red hair, flattering her with some of the worst pick up lines the two young women had ever heard.

Gigi’s friend had been smitten with the man’s drawl and his attentiveness. Ed had been charming, tall and fit, with a head full of wavy dark hair and pretty eyes. Their home state of Georgia, and the feeling of not quite fitting into the high paced, moneyed New York scene was something the two had in common, and they quickly fell into a relationship. Within two months the couple had moved into an apartment in the Bronx they had barely been able to afford with their two salaries. Within three months Carol had given notice with the NYCB because she was pregnant.

The prima ballerina had noticed, as each month had passed, she heard from her best friend less and less. Gigi's new relationship with Yuri was keeping her busy, and the couple had been working overtime with Misha to prepare for their first production together, but she still missed her sofa bed buddy. She had missed having her friend at work and in the same apartment, after being attached at the hip to Carol for three years, working, playing and sleeping together after they murmured for hours in the still of the night about their hopes and dreams. Gigi had tried to reach out to her as often as she could by phone, but weeks and months went by, and Carol rarely returned her phone calls, and always had an excuse why she couldn’t get together for lunch or dinner, when they did finally connect.

Gigi had been thrilled to finally get a call from Carol when her daughter Sophia was born. Her bestie had invited her to the hospital, specifying she should stop by to visit anytime before dinner, making the excuse she was exhausted by the time five o’clock rolled around.

Visiting during the day would have been impossible, due to Gigi’s rehearsal schedule, if Misha hadn’t taken pity on her and given her a two hour break the following day so she could take a cab to visit her friend and her new baby. Traffic had been heavy, and by the time the prima ballerina had arrived at the hospital it was almost dinner time. The two women had cried and laughed with joy over the precious baby girl, Gigi admitting it would be hard to hand Sophia back, once she’d held the baby in her arms. The two women had conversed as if they hadn’t been separated for months, talking about everything under the sun.

Strangely, the longer her visit went on the more skittish Carol became. “Everything okay, Carol?” her friend had asked after the woman had looked at the clock on the wall for the sixth time.

“Everything is fine,” Carol had insisted. “I’m just trying to get Sophia on a regular sleeping and eating schedule, and it’s almost time for her feeding.” The explanation didn’t ring true, and Gigi had studied her friend thoughtfully as she handed the baby back to her mother.

The amount worry on the new mother’s face had been excessive over a napping schedule, and her nervousness wasn’t making any sense, but when Gigi looked at the clock on the wall she realized it was five o’clock, and Carol had mentioned she hadn’t wanted visitors at dinner hour. Announcing it was time for her to get back to Misha and Yuri, Gigi had watched relief wash over her friend, making Gigi question why she felt so pressed for her visitor to leave. Carol had changed so much since she’d started seeing Ed, but the two women hadn’t spent enough time together in the last months for Gigi to put a finger on exactly what was different.

Whatever it was, it gave her a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. She pretended all was fine as she gave the new mommy a hug, telling her before she left, “You know you can always call me, Carol, for anything. I’ll always be here for you, even when our busy lives seem to be keeping us apart.” She had pulled back to look her friend in the eye, not sure why she felt the need to reassure her.

There had been a shimmer of unshed tears in Carol’s eyes as she’d nodded, avoiding eye contact by shifting her gaze to look out the window next to her bed. “I know, Gigi.”

“Promise me you’ll call me if you need me, Carol.” Her friend didn’t answer, silently nodding once more as she continued to look outside. Gigi had patted her hand where it lay on her baby's back, kissed Sophia’s beautiful little pink face, peeking out from under her tiny knitted cap as she rested on her mother’s shoulder, and exited the room with a frown. Something had definitely been off with Carol, but since her friend had tried to act as if all was fine in her world, Gigi could do nothing but remind the woman she would always be there for her, if needed.

Gigi had been stepping off the elevator on the ground floor of the hospital, and was heading to the exit when she realized she’d left her sweater in her friend’s room. Groaning inwardly, she had rushed back onto the elevator and pressed the button, hurrying down the hall to Carol’s room after it arrived on the third floor. As she’d approached the open door, Gigi’s stomach clenched when she heard Carol cry out softly in what sounded like distress, then plead in a hushed voice, “Stop Ed, you’re hurting me!”

She had gone into fight or flight mode, her need to protect her friend had instinctively outweighed any hesitancy about putting herself in the middle of a conflict between the couple as she stepped into the room. Ed was leaning over his girlfriend’s bed, holding onto her wrist in a manner which was obviously painful, pushing Gigi’s sweater in Carol’s face, as if he was angry about its presence.

The minute he had registered footsteps approaching, Ed dropped Carol’s arm, moving his hand to gently cover the red marks his aggressive grip had caused her skin. Gigi stood silently, staring the man down, not needing words to make it clear she had seen what had happened. Her mind had raced with the implications of his behavior, and all of the strangeness surrounding her friend’s behavior over the last months suddenly started to make sense.

Letting her gaze move from Ed to Carol, Gigi had been at a loss as to what to do or say, and she and her best friend stared at each other for several seconds before Ed finally broke the silence, walking around the bed to position himself in front of Carol to block her from Gigi’s view. Holding out the sweater she’d left behind, he had been all smiles as he stated the obvious. “You forgot somethin’.”

He hadn’t seen Gigi in over a year, yet there was no greeting, or no ‘How’ve you been?’, because he was clearly not happy to see her, despite the smile he’d plastered on his face. His position between the friends made it clear he wanted to keep them separated, just as he’d been doing since shortly after the couple had met, Gigi realized. Keeping them apart because he wanted to isolate Carol, as was typical in abusive relationships.

Taking the sweater from Ed’s hand she deliberately had stepped around him, trying to look Carol in the eye as she leaned over to kiss her friend on the cheek and hug her one more time, even though the woman wouldn’t look up from studying her fingers. “I forgot to tell you how much I love you,” she’d murmured loud enough for Ed to hear. Gigi may have been posturing, telling Ed he’d failed in dismembering the friends’ relationship, but she’d meant what she said with all her heart and wanted Carol to know she had someone to count on, if needed. “I’ll always be here for you and Sophia. Always.” She felt Carol nod minutely into her shoulder before she pulled away.

Gigi’s heart had broken as she’d left the hospital room, her mind racing as she made her way back to the studio. Had she missed clues which would have let her know Ed was an abuser? Should she have known something was horribly wrong as her friend had pulled away from her during her pregnancy? Had Carol said anything, the few times they’d spoken, which Gigi should have recognized as a cry for help? She had almost felt as if she were overreacting to what she’d seen, yet if the man had no qualms about physically hurting her friend in an open room with people right outside the doorway, she could only imagine what he would do in their home, where no one could see his abuse.

Tears had run down the ballerina’s face as she sat in the back seat of the taxi cab, and practically throwing a twenty over the front seat at the driver when he pulled up at 890 Broadway, she’d run up four flights of steps, hoping her source of comfort was in their rehearsal studio. She had been more than relieved to find him there.

“Malyshka,” Mikhail had greeted her, his brow furrowing when he noticed his girl’s state of upset as she hurried across the room towards him. “What happened? Are Carol and the baby okay?” He had immediately opened his arms to pull her in, holding her as she rambled about what had happened at the hospital.

Gigi had tried to call Carol a few weeks later, at a time when she knew Ed would be at work. The Peletier’s home telephone number had been disconnected and there was no forwarding number. At the time, there had been no cell phones to use to text a friend or track them down wherever they happened to be at the moment, and email and home computers and web searches had not come on the scene yet. By the time the dancer had the chance to make the trek to the Bronx to personally make sure her friend was okay, she’d been shocked to find the family had moved, and had left no forwarding address with the landlord. Even more disconcerting had been the fact the building’s owner had told her the tenants had left suddenly, and had been two months delinquent on their rent payments. Gigi had been sick with worry about the fate of her friend.

Gigi had never stopped missing Carol, or worrying about her, and once computers and social media were available she occasionally searched for her friend. She hadn’t come across her, other than in some outdated articles about New York City Ballet performances. It was as if her friend had never existed, which was more than disconcerting.

Years later, when Pierre and Karen had died, Gigi and Yuri decided to relocate to Northern Virginia so as not to uproot Hannah and Marshall from their home and friends so soon after their loss, and because the big city was proving difficult for Yuri to navigate with his physical limitations. The newly formed family lived in her brother’s home until Dale had passed away and left them the house on the water, only a few miles away. After a family meeting to discuss their options, the children had both agreed it was time for a change. They had wanted to make a new home for themselves with their aunt and uncle, and let go of some of the painful reminders of their parents which they were surrounded by, daily.

Once Gigi had moved to Virginia, and the location settings on her computer and phone automatically geared her search results to ones relevant for her area, Gigi finally found Edward Peletier’s name in a list of locals who had been arrested for driving under the influence. She had been a woman obsessed with the tidbit of information, her passion for trying to find the woman, renewed. Not knowing where to start in her search, she had hired a private investigator to look for a woman by the name of Carol Anderson or Carol Peletier, because it was killing Gigi not knowing what had become of her friend and her precious daughter.

____________

f*cking pain in the goddamn f*cking ass. f*ck her and her f*cking need to be right. f*cked me over. f*cked over the school. I hope she’s f*cking happy with herself. f*ck. Her.

Negan had been in an exceptionally foul mood, acting like a crazed tyrant throughout football practice after leaving the meeting with Miss Moral f*cking High Ground and Philip Blake. He’d tried to talk to Blake as the man walked to the parking lot, but the DA had blown him off, insisting, “You better get that little problem under control Negan. Don’t bother calling me until you know when Penny’s first day of cheerleading practice will be.”

The cheerleading coach had had the f*cking nerve to sit in her f*cking office that morning, acting as if she understood why Mount Vernon needed to keep Blake happy, and why Penny would need to be added back to the cheerleading squad, and then she spit in the face of him, and the track team. f*ck her twice.

The football coach had ended up brow beating his players all day mostly because they hadn’t done one goddamn thing right and partly because he was pissed at the world and every f*cking thing in it. He’d ended up making the boys stay late until they got their f*cking sh*t together, pissing off all the f*cking soccer moms who had to sit in their mini vans and wait the extra hour for their lazy ass teenagers. He'd managed to work himself into a bigger f*cking lather because he'd had to stifle his f*cking mouth when some of the women decided to sit their goddamn asses in the bleachers and watch the rest of practice. f*ck them and their ponytails and athletic, skirted f*cking leggings.

Negan mulled over his sh*tty day as he sat on his deck at five twenty, having just poured himself a triple scotch on the rocks, the half full bottle sitting next to him on the table because he knew he’d need at least one refill to relax his ass. At least one. The crazy f*cking traitor next door was in the middle of her afternoon swim he deduced, as he looked out over the water, trying to feel the sense of calm Lucille had always told him it had given her. He knew Gigi was mid-swim, because her towel was draped over the third pylon from the right, so she could grab it as she stepped onto the dock after climbing the ladder positioned right next to it. The coach knew this because the dancing bitch next door with her pointed f*cking toes was a creature of habit. She swam every day at five o’clock, on the nose. She had not swum the day she’d danced all the f*ck in his face in the gym, even though it was still light outside when she’d gotten home from work, because it was after five o’clock. He knew it as sure as he knew his own goddamn name.

Every single f*cking time Gigi left her office she wrote “I’m out!” with the hot pink marker attached to the stupid f*cking dry erase board on her door, with her stupid f*cking hearts dotting the ‘i’ and the exclamation point. Without fail. Who the hell did she think gave a flying f*ck whether she was in or out? He, Merle and Gigi had been the only three people in their end of the building for the last two weeks, and he certainly didn’t give two sh*ts.

Detective Negan had deduced every Wednesday night, groceries were delivered by the local grocery store. Friday night was pizza night at the house next door, and the pizza and salad were always ordered from Pizano’s, even though there were ten different f*cking places which delivered pizza in their area. And who orders a f*cking salad from a pizza place, anyway? He knew she was the one putting on the pretense of eating healthy, because he’d seen her eating greenery the night he and Merle had played football with Marshall and his friends, while everyone else ate pizza.

Negan also knew Gigi was slightly f*cking OCD, and would not step foot in her house with shoes on. She always opened the french doors, or the sliding glass door, and then put one foot, then the other, over the threshold to drop them, one at a time. She was so f*cking anal retentive she would then bend over, her ass sticking out of the doorway, and pick them up from the floor inside and move them against the interior wall to the right of the door. Since she spent more than a second on the task, he knew her crazy f*cking ass was lining them up just so.

Gigi’s neighbor had also noted she always stood in the same position on the dock before she hit the water for her swim, and would shake out her hands and roll her head on her shoulders as if she were letting go of some physical tension before she could proceed. Right before she dove in she would always, much to his perverse delight, run her index fingers up the back of the legs of her tight little swim shorts to pull them down further over her beautiful f*cking cheeks.

He didn’t know what the f*ck it was about her that fascinated him so. Every guy could appreciate an attractive woman, or a hot body, but Negan had always been one to be easily turned off if a woman’s personality didn’t fit his list of requirements, no matter how hot she was. He had very specific standards, and if one of his criteria was not met, there was no chance in hell he’d bite. It was royally pissing him off he had such a huge, constant f*cking hard on for a woman who was turning out to be the bane of his f*cking existence. He may as well have chased her around the yard with his dick in his hand, the way he’d been making every pathetic attempt to catch a glimpse of her, despite the fact she was a serious f*cking irritant. It surprised him the woman was constantly poking him, testing him, and pushing his buttons, deliberate or not, and he still wanted to f*ck her into tomorrow. The very fact was part of the reason why he was so f*cking pissed at and about her, most of the time.

Here she f*cking comes. I wonder if I’ll be able to look in her direction without spitting.

His misery climbed out of the water as she always did, rung her shoulder length hair to squeeze the excess water out of it as she always did, toweled it a bit and draped the cloth over her shoulders as she always did, then headed towards her house. Then she did something she had never done. She acknowledged his presence. Halfway up the yard she turned and walked in his direction, stopping at enough of a distance from his deck so she could still see him on the second floor structure. Ahh, f*ck.

“Can we talk about what happened today?” Gigi called out to him casually.

f*ck you. “No.” He took a drink of his scotch and continued to stare at the water beyond the dock.

“We’ll need to talk about it sometime, you know,” she prodded him. "There are some things I didn't get the chance to fill you in on before the meeting you really need to ..."

He flicked the back of his hand at her, cutting her off, as if he was shooing away an annoying fly. Getting up from the table, he picked up his drink and his bottle, heading towards the sliding door that lead to his family room. “Oh no, Coach Sokolov,” he called over his shoulder, his tone overly dramatic, using her words from the meeting they’d had in his office at the beginning of the week. “I’m not obligated to talk to you outside of work hours, and I’m definitely not obligated to talk to you about matters other than those required to implement the county curriculum.” He slid the patio door closed behind himself, smirking at his win.

___________

Such a jerk. Gigi turned and walked into her own house after he went inside, shaking her head over the big, fat, egotistical baby who lived next door. She mulled over the discussion they’d had before the meeting with Penny’s father. It had been civil, friendly even. He had asked her about dancing, and he had been genuinely interested in her answers. She had actually enjoyed chatting with him. They’d had a reasonable and productive discussion about what would likely happen at the meeting with Penny’s father, and being the control freak she was, she hadn’t been able to stand the thought of a man like Philip Blake trying to crush her and her new coworkers under his morally corrupt thumb.She also hadn’t been able to stand the man taking advantage of the school’s desperate need for funding. She had immediately felt defensive, affronted over the seemingly impossible position they had been put in. She’d felt the need to protect the school and her coworkers from Philip Blake, despite the fact she had only been at the job for a few weeks.

Surprisingly, she’d felt most protective of her neighbor, even though she knew he didn’t need or want her protection. He was a big boy, and he’d made his choices where the district attorney’s money was concerned. When she’d talked it out in her head afterwards, it hadn’t taken her long to figure out why she felt the way she did. It was because, for the second time since they’d met, the football coach had unwittingly revealed something of himself to her when they’d talked that morning. Something she knew, deep down, had been difficult for him to voice. He had obviously been pissed with himself the first time he’d given her a peek inside, when he’d revealed the details of coping with losing his wife as he had tended to her cuts on the dock. When they’d spoken before the meeting in the principal’s office, in his gritty, foul mouthed way Negan had revealed a vulnerability which arose from his passion for his job and his department, and his loyalty to his friend and his students, the glimpse of his motives changing the way she viewed her cranky neighbor. He’d revealed a frustration with having to play Philip Blake’s self serving game, because he didn’t have the luxury to do otherwise. He had told her outright he didn’t want to undermine her, but felt he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. She had been shocked and pleasantly surprised at his concern at what affect it would have on her if they had to put Penny back on the cheerleading squad. She had also been surprised at how the mushy girly-girl in herself felt compelled to make things all better for the man who had shared this bit of himself with her. She suspected it was something he rarely did.

Determined to find a way around Mister Blake’s money, she’d made several phone calls in a short amount of time, after Negan had left her office. Gigi had always been uncompromising when it came to business matters, learning from Misha never to settle for less than what she deserved and wanted. Because her fame afforded her a certain amount of privilege, in record time she’d come up with some viable alternatives to a tainted check from the district attorney. Pleased with herself, she had hurried to Principal Grime’s office, needing to be sure he would be okay with his new employee sticking her nose and hands into the school’s business, before the meeting with the district attorney started at nine o’clock. Rick had actually been thrilled with what she’d presented to him. She’d had just enough time to go over things with him when Philip had arrived, leaving her without the opportunity to fill Negan in on things before the meeting started.

Gigi stopped at her fridge as she pondered her neighbor’s anger with her, pouring herself a glass of Pinot Grigio before she headed to the master bathroom. Turning on the water in the shower, she shimmied out of her swimwear and stepped in, taking another drink before she sat her wine glass on the built in ceramic shelf on the wall opposite the shower head. She found Negan’s volatility fascinating, yet frustrating. He’d obviously been aggravated with her tactics during the meeting, yet when Mister Blake had started asking her about Yuri, Negan clearly had come to her defense, going as far as to step in between her and the politician, as if trying to shield her from the man’s inappropriate questions. She smiled at the thought, then frowned at the memory of him jerking his arm away from her.

She was stymied as to why he’d defended her when he was so angry with her. But the Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde thing had been a pattern with him. He’d yelled at her the day of the wake, then soothed her on the dock. He’d been snippy with her in his office on Monday, but then had started a friendly conversation with her in her office before their discussion about Penny and her father. She suspected there was a complex man behind Negan’s foul mouthed bravado, and it intrigued her. He was provocative, but as much as Gigi had hoped she would become friendly with her neighbor after their night of angst sharing on the dock, she wasn’t sure if she had the energy to try to figure him out, while dealing with his unpredictability.

Even if he does smell nice and have pretty eyelashes.

Chapter 9: The Day After The Meeting

Chapter Text

Negan was slow to drag himself out of bed on Friday, having laid awake until two in the morning trying to figure out how he was going to tell his buddy Simon the new track he’d been promised wasn’t going to happen. The man was spending the summer at his parent’s ranch in Montana with his wife and kids. He would be returning to Virginia a few days before Mount Vernon’s teachers were slated to return to work for the school year. From the photos his friend had been posting on Instagram, it looked like he was having a great time. He would come back to work relaxed and happy, only to have his friend tell him he and his students had been royally screwed.

He’d spent quite a bit of time, at around midnight, pondering whether he could present the facts to Simon without making Mount Vernon’s new phys ed teacher look like a bitch, because for some unknown f*cking reason, he wanted to let Simon form his own opinion about the woman.

At about one forty-five, after quite a bit of ranting in his own head, he had figured out why he wanted to let his buddy come to his own conclusions about Gigi. It was because he’d realized he really couldn’t blame Gigi for wanting to stand up to Philip and Penny Blake and everything their entitled, privileged white bread asses stood for, even if it cost the school sorely needed money. The injustice of playing to the district attorney and his spoiled as f*ck son and daughter had been maddening, and he admired Gigi, more than a little bit for slinging her beach ball sized lady nuts around at the meeting, telling Blake in no uncertain terms, yet also in very tactful, honey coated wording, she wouldn’t have his lazy, disrespectful daughter on her varsity squad. His neighbor was quick and she was shrewd, which was a major f*cking turn on for the football coach, even while he was angry with her. Equally as admirable, in Negan’s mind, was how she had also questioned why Blake would expect anyone to laud the girl’s mediocre performance. Gigi had managed to bend the man over and f*ck him hard before he’d realized what was happening, and Negan was a little bit jealous she had been the one to ream his ass.

He knew Blake wouldn’t take kindly to being bested by Gigi. The look on the man’s face after she’d stepped on his toes for the third or fourth time in five minutes was the look of a man about to go postal on everyone in the room. When Philip had questioned Gigi about her husband’s suicide, it was almost as if he was questioning whether the official cause of death was accurate, almost implying there was something fishy about the finding.

As angry as Negan had been with her, he wasn’t going to let Blake continue his offensive inquiry, and he, himself had sealed the track team’s f*cking coffin when he had stepped up to let the sh*thead know he would have to go through the six foot two man in front of him to get to Gigi. Her defender sighed loudly in the dark of his room, hoping their actions weren’t going to come back and bite them both in the ass.

________

Gigi insisted on dropping Marshall off at practice early on Friday, wanting to try to talk to Negan again before he went out to the football field to start practice at seven thirty. She rushed into the school building at five minutes before seven and dropped her things on the desk in her office, leaving her door open so she would see and hear him pass by on the way to his own. He would arrive in twenty minutes, as he always did, and she didn’t want to take the chance she would miss him because she really wanted to clear the air. She knew if she could explain things to him, it would be a start. A man like Negan wouldn’t be easy to win over, she knew, because in his mind it wasn’t just about the loss of the money. It was about the fact she’d had the nerve to trample over his domain, destroying the lucrative relationship he had cultivated. It was clear he was more of a control freak than she was, and she was sure the fact he’d had to sit in the principal’s office and watch her do the opposite of what they’d discussed had not gone over well, no matter the outcome. She had stepped into his sandbox and not only stolen his shovel, but used it to knock down his sand castle.

Gigi passed the time while she waited for Negan, organizing the contents of her bag and her desk. She then wrote “I’m in!” on the board on her door, using a royal blue marker for a change of pace. She immediately rewrote it in hot pink when she decided the blue wasn’t perky enough. She added a quotation about happiness underneath, because she firmly believed in putting good vibes out to the universe in order to get good vibes back. Since there was time to kill before her neighbor arrived, she decided to start stretching. It wouldn’t take long to talk to the football coach, so she’d have plenty of time to work on routines for her cheerleaders, and maybe even dance a little before cheerleading practice started.

__________

Negan heard what sounded like Gigi’s voice as he turned the corner into the hallway where the phys ed offices resided.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow. Ow !” the contortionist murmured to herself as she stretched on the floor in front of his office.

What the f*ck, Gigi? His neighbor was laying on her back on the hallway floor in between their offices. Head at twelve o'clock, her legs were spread wide f*cking open at the two and ten o’clock positions. Using her hands, she was pushing her ankles towards the floor to stretch the muscles of her inner thighs. He wasn’t sure whether should be impressed by her flexibility or turned on at the picture of her thighs spread so far apart, just inviting him to lay in between them. I really need to f*cking crawl up on that and lick those abductors. I bet they’re hard as f*ck. Sink my teeth into them. Hhhnng. Feel her body f*cking shudder from a little bit of pleasurable pain. f*ckity f*cking f*ck.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow,” the cadence continued with each quick bounce of her thighs towards the floor. Amused with herself, Gigi’s giggle followed, and then she let go of her ankles, sat up and started to do stretches for her arms.

Gigi hadn’t heard him approaching, due to her own exclamations of pain, and she was startled when he suddenly was in her line of vision, her body jumping with fright. She stopped what she was doing and spun herself on her butt to face him as he walked by, frowning at his chuckle of pleasure at his effect on her. Popping up from the floor quickly she followed, standing behind him as he unlocked his office door, suggesting, “I’m hoping we can talk now that we’re on the clock?” When he opened the door and stepped inside, she followed closely, almost running into his back when he stopped two steps inside the office. “I think you’ll be pleased to know… ”

Did she just follow my ass in here? The football coach turned to face her as she prattled on about a woman named Jessica who husband worked and was bored … what the f*ck is she babbling about? He took steps toward her, as if he was going to walk back out of the office, forcing Gigi to walk backwards out the door into the hall. Negan stopped once she was a safe distance from him, grinning at her as he grabbed the door by the knob and slammed it closed in her face. He knew it was a dick move, but he wasn’t ready to f*cking deal with her yet. When he finally was, he would be the one talking, not her. A soft knock on his door a few seconds later caused him to roll his eyes in its direction as he walked around his desk to sit down.

“That’s really the way you want to play this?” the tiny pain in the ass called through the barrier in a very reasonable tone of voice. He couldn’t help but admit to himself her tenacity just tickled his balls and he huffed out a silent laugh. Despite his admiration, he wasn’t going to f*cking answer her.

_________

Gigi gritted her teeth when Negan whipped the door in her direction, trying to brace herself for the noise as it shut. She stood in front of his office door, letting her head drop forward until it bumped the door lightly. Her hands came up in front of her, her fingers spread against the smooth surface as she counted to ten to calm herself. He’s going to have to talk to me. I will make him talk to me … After thirty seconds or so an idea popped into her head and she smiled.

__________

Negan could hear the muffled sounds of movement against his door as it rattled slightly in the door frame. He wondered what the hell Gigi was doing as he heard a light thud, followed by another light noise a few seconds later. What the f*ck? Things got quiet for a bit so he relaxed, assuming she’d given up and gone back to her office. Turning on his pc, he sat down and pulled a stack of paperwork out of his desk drawer before logging on to the computer and opening his email. As he did, his eyes were drawn across the room to the sound of muted rattling, and a few thumps on the door, the cause of which he couldn’t discern. He raised his eyebrows, waiting, but when no other noise followed he went back to the tasks in front of him. He was intrigued, when as he worked, the door rattled lightly in its frame every few minutes. Is she f*cking stalking me? Several minutes later there was a light tap, tap, tapping on the metal. He didn’t know what the f*ck was going on outside his door, but he wasn’t going to give Gigi the satisfaction of opening the door to look.

The sounds continued intermittently for the duration of the fifteen minutes he worked, and at seven twenty-four he straightened up his desk, pulled his whistle out of his pants pocket, putting its lanyard over his head and draping it down the front of his Mount Vernon polo shirt. Patting himself down to be sure he had his office keys and phone, he grabbed his iPad and then opened his door to head out to the football field.

_______

Gigi sat down on the floor, her back leaning against the door. Her rear end started to get sore after about five minutes so she shifted, putting one shoulder against one side of the door jamb, and her feet on the other, heel on top of toe since it was only about six inches wide. She made no attempt to be quiet as she moved, wanting the man inside to know she was still there.

She got bored after another few minutes and walked her feet up the door frame, singing Eensie Weensie Spider in her head to a pop beat, shuffling her feet up and back down, as if she was dancing the Charleston, while she listened to the stilted sound of Negan’s keyboard clicking as he typed. He really needs some typing lessons.

Gigi finally heard the sounds of him moving around in his office. Checking her watch to see if it was time for him to head outside for practice, she jumped to her feet, waiting for him to open the door. When he finally did, she was standing a few feet in front of him. “Great!” she smiled at him, “We’ll have time to talk on the way out to the field,” restarting the discussion she wanted to have with him, whether he wanted to have it or not. The coach stared at her for a few seconds, pursing his lips as he sucked some air between his front teeth with a squeal.

Gigi moved to the side when he plowed right toward her, then hurried to keep up with him as he strode quickly down the hall. She dove right into what she wanted to tell him, starting, “When you left my office yesterday morning I called a friend of mine …”

Negan didn’t acknowledge her as she spoke, pulling his phone out of his pants pocket and sliding his thumb across the home screen.

“ ...whose husband works at the …”

Tapping on the screen a few times he put the phone to his ear.

“ ... board of education …”

“Hey, asshole!” the football coach barked into the phone, speaking over Gigi’s ramble next to him. “We doing happy hour at my place or the Keg tonight?”

The cheerleading coach huffed loudly in frustration as she practically ran to keep up with him. His legs were so much longer than hers she was taking two steps for every one of his. Gosh darn it, Negan! Could you be any more rude? “He is in appropriations …” she continued loudly when she heard a break in the muffled response on the other end of the phone.

“You wanna invite Daryl?” Negan questioned, cutting across Gigi as he talked to Merle. “We need to initiate him.”

Even though she knew he was trying to listen to the man on the other end, Gigi informed him, “You mentioned your department hadn’t …” As she spoke, Negan moved several feet over from her in the hallway, so he could hear his friend’s answer. Frustrated, but determined not to be deterred, she jogged over to close the gap, and went on, “...used all of its funds …”

Seeing her counter his attempt at creating distance, Negan raised his hand, straightening his arm and holding his palm close to her face, trying to keep her from getting any closer.

“Are you kidding me?!” she challenged him, getting angrier by the second. Her own hand shot out, knocking his out of the way. He moved it right back into position six inches from her face as he turned to laugh outright at her attempt to thwart him, phone still at his ear.

“No, no. I’m here. Sorry. I’m just swatting at a pest,” he explained to Merle when the man wanted to know what the hell he was laughing at. Damn, she is f*cking stubborn. Leave me the f*ck alone, woman! Having rounded the corner into the front hall of the phys ed wing, Negan aimed for the exit doors, picking up his pace as his neighbor struggled to keep up with him. Turning to smirk at her again over his shoulder when she fell behind, he informed Merle, “Walsh texted me. He’s ready to start back up with our Friday get togethers, even if school hasn’t started … right … right .... that’s what I said! Bring it the f*ck on! Ford is here today, setting up for ROTC. I’ll see if he wants to join us. And I’m sure Walsh will invite Grimes. We’ll see if Rick shows, the puss* whipped f*ck.”

The man beside Gigi was quiet again, and she fumed as he listened to his buddy’s response. She stopped in her tracks when they approached the doors, refusing to chase him outside where someone else might see their childish interaction, watching from behind as he reached for the door. Normally priding herself on maintaining her cool under fire, Gigi was beside herself, seeing red for the first time in her life over his puerile behavior and his refusal to talk to her, or listen. She felt like a woman possessed as she rushed him.

Negan heard her guttural growl before he felt her fingers slide between his side and his bicep and then encircle his arm. With a surprising amount of force she pulled him around to face her, using her other hand on his shoulder to aid in turning him, then grabbed the front of his shirt, forcing him to stay in her space. She was physically manipulating him the same way she had Marshall’s friend Matt when she shoved him off the dock into the water. It shouldn’t have been so easy for her to move either of them, since they were much bigger than she, but it was clear she knew exactly how to move his weight exactly where she wanted it, the push on his shoulder the difference in whether she would be successful.

He didn’t mind in the f*cking least he was being man handled. Gigi was standing not more than a few inches in front of him, frozen, with her fist pressed to his stomach, looking up at him with a scowl. She smelled like citrus, without the hints of vanilla he’d detected on the dock, and he found himself breathing her in as he raised his eyebrows at her in both surprise and question. Her look of anger quickly morphed into one of shock, as if her own actions had surprised her, her hand quickly dropping from his shirt. He was pleased as f*cking punch when she didn’t back away from him immediately, but stared up at him for a moment, her eyes flitting between his two as if she was searching for something. Fuuuuuuck.

“Hey, sh*thead!” Hearing Merle’s distant voice calling out through the phone in his hand, Negan quickly stuffed the device into his pocket, deciding his conversation with his friend was finished.

The sound and movement cut through Gigi’s thoughts, and she blinked quickly as she came out of her trance, lowering her gaze to look at his shirt where she’d held it. Gasping softly at the state of it, she hesitantly raised her hand, her fingertips lightly rubbing the material to work out the wrinkles she’d created in the fabric.

She may as well have grabbed his co*ck, his body’s response intense as a thrill ran through him at the inadvertent, gentle caress of his abs and her close proximity. He had to suppress the urge to close his eyes and try to tune into the sensation further. What the f*ck is wrong with me?

“I am so sorry,” Gigi murmured as she worked, peeking up at him through her eyelashes, trying to gauge how angry he was with her. “I don’t know what came over me. There’s no excuse …”

“All good,” he reassured her gently, feeling her embarrassment.

She nodded at his chest, unable to look at him, then patted it lightly when she finished her repair work. Finally looking up to meet his gaze she pleaded with him softly, “Would you please make time to sit down and talk to me about what happened yesterday?”

Negan enjoyed their closeness for a few more seconds while he decided how to respond. “No,” he replied simply before he turned, pushed open the door and walked out of the building. Scrunching up his nose, he gave a head to toe mock shiver at the lingering effect of their crazy f*cking interlude and the fact he was the winner of this sparring round.

Oh, Coach Sokolov. It is sooo f*cking on. In more goddamn ways than one.

________

What is wrong with me? Gigi chided herself for the umpteenth time, appalled at her behavior with the football coach. She was distracted during practice with her squads, having to take a break to refocus when she found her mind wandering back to their interaction while she was supposed to be spotting her students in their tumbling runs. Telling the kids to take a half hour for lunch, she made her way to her office and closed the door, leaving her hot pink “I’m out!” message on the door so she wouldn’t be interrupted. Her students were always popping in and out of her office to visit, and today was not a day she wanted to make small talk with teenagers, as much as she loved them all.

Sitting down in her cushioned desk chair, she was dwarfed in its large frame. Pulling her feet up on the seat and her knees to her chest, she laid her head back on the padded headrest and closed her eyes, clearing her head so she could think about what had happened with Negan. Gigi tried to ignore the little devil on her shoulder who had been goading her all morning, telling her something she didn’t want to hear.

Instead she focused on her anger over her neighbor’s rude behavior, and her aggressive response to it. She talked to herself about why she had acted like a crazy woman, grabbing him and forcing him to look at her. She needed to get over the mortification which was eating at her. It was done, and there was no way to change it. She knew she was prone to beating herself up over her own mistakes, and needed to just let it go. She could only promise herself, in future, she would never let her anger influence her to such a degree.

Her behavior that morning was beyond her own comprehension. She’d never in her life been physically aggressive with anyone other than typical sibling fisticuffs with Pierre when they were young, but she had wanted to pummel the football coach when he’d put his hand in her face to block her from getting closer to him. She supposed her exasperation stemmed from never having encountered anyone quite as infuriating as he. In opposition, his response to her apology after she’d spun him around was so genuine and reassuring, his cantankerousness forgotten, and Gigi could feel his desire to soothe her upset. In the blink of an eye he’d gone back to infuriating when he refused to meet with her and then ran off to football practice.

Her devil was still whispering in her ear, so she decided to give in and listen to see what it had to say. The little nuisance repeated the same thing it had divulged as she’d held on to Negan’s shirt and looked into his eyes, the same thing it had been taunting her with all day. She had tried so, so hard to ignore the truth, but it was glaringly obvious, even without her little friend pointing it out. She was insanely attracted to her neighbor. She had first become aware of it when he’d helped her the night she’d hurt herself, and she had promptly written it off as gratitude for his attentive and gentle care.

No matter gratitude didn’t normally involve enjoying the feel of being in someone’s space, or the electricity she’d felt as he’d run his fingertips along her palm while he looked over her wounds. Gratitude didn’t normally lead a person to lean in closer to take in more of a man's scent because it had made her swoon. Gratitude didn’t make a woman want to slide her hand into her panties late at night when she thought about the feel of his warm breath on her wrist as he’d tended to her hand, and the way he had swept his tongue between his teeth as they had looked into each other’s eyes during a break in their quiet conversation in the dark.

Gigi had experienced the same feeling when she’d stared into his eyes that morning in the hall, only it had been much more profound. His beautiful caramel eyes staring back into hers, and the feeling of his firm abs under her fist had sent a wave of pleasure through her, and she’d found herself searching his gaze in a ridiculous attempt to see if perhaps he felt the same way. It hadn't been surprising he had only looked shocked and more than slightly amused at her atrocious behavior. Even though she should have shrunken away in humiliation, she hadn’t wanted the moment to end, insisting on working the wrinkles out of his shirt, the feeling of taut muscles under her fingers only heightening her attraction to him.

Gigi groaned out loud at the idea she had a crush on her ornery neighbor, but she couldn’t deny it. Guilt washed over her, the idea she was lusting after him when her husband had only passed away a month before, unfathomable. She consoled herself over her emotional infidelity by reminding herself it had been forever since she and Yuri had been intimate, since the changes caused by his aneurysms had put an end to their love making. Even though her husband’s doctors had assured the couple the nature of Yuri's paralysis should not affect his ability to achieve an erection or dull his desire, their love life had come to a complete halt shortly after his first aneurysm. Whether it was due to his condition or his antidepressants, Gigi never knew.

Not only had it been over a year since she’d made love with Yuri, the ongoing stress of being caregiver for her chronically angry husband had left the ballerina with such a low sex drive she hadn’t even had the longing to pleasure herself more than a handful of times over the previous year. The first time she had felt the heat of her neighbor sitting beside her on the dock it was as if her long lost libido had shaken her by the shoulders and announced it was not only back, but it wanted to play, and play hard. This makes absolutely no sense at all. Gigi wanted to weep at the fact she’d finally awakened from her sexual coma, only to find a total jerk standing there when she’d opened her eyes. A hot, buff, fantastic smelling jerk with long, beautiful eyelashes and an oh, so pretty, pink tongue.

The cheerleading coach opened her eyes with a sigh and rose from her chair to head back out to practice, lamenting the unsettled feeling in her gut.

_________

“What in the everloving f*ck was that, gentlemen? Get your sh*t together!” Negan yelled at his players as they ran through their morning drills. “Do it again, you bunch of pansy ass wanna be's, and do it right this time!” The teens laughed along with their coach at the insult when the man in charge started cracking up at his colorful new put down.

It is absolutely f*cking pathetic I got a f*cking hard on when she touched me. Jesus. Such a f*cking puss*.

“What the hell, Jay? Get your act together, boy!”

Fuuuuuuuuuuuck. What she f*cking does to me. Jesus. What the f*ck is it about her, making me want to throttle her one minute, and wanting her to suck my co*ck the next? Makes no f*cking sense at all.

“Do you really think that was any f*cking better than the first time? Take a f*cking break and don’t come back until you’re ready to actually work, boys!”

Who the f*ck am I kidding? I want her to suck my co*ck even when she’s pissing me off. Jesus it’s a long f*cking time until happy hour. Johnny Walker is calling my ass home and it’s only ten o’clock. f*ck me.

__________

Negan, Abraham, Eugene, Shane and Merle were all lined up on the football coach’s deck like f*cking lemmings, watching Mount Vernon’s new cheerleading coach drape her towel over the pylon next to the ladder, then shake her arms and roll her head on her shoulders as she prepared for her daily swim.

“When?” Shane looked at Negan expectantly.

“Watch, watch, watch!” was the harried response as Gigi’s neighbor pointed at the dock, smacking the binoculars in Shane’s hand to push them up towards his face, urging him to look through them. Focusing quickly on the woman on the dock, the basketball coach groaned in appreciation as the woman slid her fingers up the back of her shorts and pulled them down. “ Damn! Now that’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout!” the corner of Shane’s mouth quirked up in a wicked smile as he thought about how he’d like to bend her over and pound her pretty little ass.

"Her and her pointed f*cking toes," Negan observed under his breath as both of her feet turned outward, as they always seemed to do, before her right foot shifted up onto the tip of her big toe and back down. Gigi then pulled her knee up to her chest gracefully, then extended her shin so her leg was almost straight up in the air. He noticed a bit of hesitation as she moved, her foot coming back down before it fully extended. Her hand wrapped around her knee, pressing her thumb into one side and massaging it a bit before she lowered it. That injury is bothering her. Maybe she shouldn't f*cking swim today. Bet Miss OCD wouldn’t even consider taking a f*cking day off.

“The pointed toes and out turned feet are caused by years of external rotation of the hip joint and repeated muscle movement to place the feet for the classic five positions in ballet,” Mount Vernon’s chemistry teacher informed them. “This eventually causes the limbs to move themselves into said position despite lack of intent.”

The four other men standing at the railing nodded their heads at the tidbit of information, Walsh chiming in, “I’d like to have those pointed toes poking me in the side of my head while I screw her brains out.”

“Nice! Bend her in half!” Merle commented with a nod of approval as they all watched Gigi dive into the water and take off, swimming freestyle.

“Watch those mouths, gentlemen! Have a little respect for our new cheerleading coach,” Negan chastised his friends. If anybody’s going to f*cking bend her in half it’s gonna be me.

A voice from below caught the men off guard as it scolded them, “Really, Coach? That is just wrong, on so many levels!” Negan looked down to find Marshall pointing at the man with the binoculars, shaking his head with a grin as his friends spread out in the yard, Julian tossing a football to Dylan as they moved.

“f*ck. We’ve been caught, fellas,” Negan murmured to his buddies as he raised a hand in greeting to the boy, hoping he hadn’t heard Shane and Merle’s comments. “You f*cking snitch on us and I’ll kick your scrawny ass!” he called back, trying to sound like he was joking. f*ck.

________

Gigi climbed up the ladder onto the dock to find a handsome man waiting for her, her towel in his hands. Dark hair framed his face and dark eyes, and he had a well defined jaw and rugged nose which looked as if it had taken a few turns in a boxing ring. He was perspiring as if he had just run a marathon, which she found odd until she looked over his shoulder to see Marshall, his friends, and a handful of men standing in the shade on the concrete patio under Negan’s deck and a few more hanging out in the shade of the trees at the edge of his property, gulping bottles of water, and wiping at their brows as they clowned around, talking and laughing loudly.

“Gigi, right?” the man asked her, holding two corners of the towel out towards her, obviously waiting to wrap her in it. She nodded, with a look of slight confusion as she tried to figure out who he was and why he was waiting for her. “Shane Walsh,” the man answered her question, introducing himself. “I teach phys ed at Mount Vernon?” He raised the bath sheet in his hands slightly to let her know he would like to help her with it.

“Ohhhh! Shane! ” she turned her back to him, lifting her hair off her shoulders so he could drape the towel over them. “Carol Peletier has told me so much about you!”

“She tell you how our team has won the staff versus students volleyball tournament for the last three years?” the basketball coach checked out her ass as he laid the towel across her shoulders, then co*cked an eyebrow at her when she turned back around to face him, a smile quirking up one side of his mouth.

What a cutie. “Yes, she did! I heard the two of you were the allstars, though,” Gigi raved as Shane proceeded to lift the bottom of his shirt, using it to wipe the perspiration off his face while giving her a glimpse of his well toned physique.

He has got to be f*cking kidding, Negan fumed from his vantage point across the yard, watching his co worker flirt shamelessly with his neighbor, as he wrapped her towel around her, then make a point of showing her his muscular torso. I would hope to f*ck she wouldn’t fall for that pathetic show. He found himself putting the flat of his hand on his stomach to see if it’d felt toned when she’d touched him earlier. Satisfied with what he found, he glared at Walsh across the yard. Validating the need for his concern, Gigi reached out as she laughed at whatever the f*ck Shane had said to her, squeezing his arm.

“Let’s go, people! Let’s finish this game up! I’ve got some scotch I need to attend to!” the football coach yelled in Walsh’s direction. He seethed a bit more as the man rested his hand lightly on the woman’s lower back, guiding her off the dock and up the yard.

“You gonna watch us play?” Gigi’s escort questioned her when they reached the point in the yard where they would separate. “Hey, Abe, Eugene! Come meet Gigi!”

f*ck him, trying to get into her f*cking panties. Goddamn man whor*. Negan made his way over to the pair, along with the other two men, preempting Shane, “Gigi, this is Abraham and Eugene. They work at Mount Vernon. Abe’s in charge of ROTC, and Dr. Smartypants here, teaches science.” He pointed two fingers at Shane adding, “I see you’ve already met Cassanova, and of course you already know Merle. Have you met Merle’s brother, Daryl?” Negan questioned as the last of the adults made his way over to the group, nodding at Gigi.

Gigi didn’t quite know what to make of Doctor Jekyll’s sudden interest in introducing her to everyone, but she decided to run with it. After a few minutes of small talk about the upcoming school year the men, along with Marshall and his friends excused themselves, making their way into position in the yard so they could restart their game.

_________

When Gigi headed back out onto her deck after she had showered and poured herself a glass of wine, the game was in full swing, testosterone, and foul language permeating the air. Negan, Marshall and Merle were playing on the same side with a few of her nephew’s friends, while Shane, Abraham and Daryl and the rest of the teens teamed up against them. She was amused, but somehow not surprised to spot Eugene standing on the sidelines, acting as referee.

Mount Vernon’s newest teacher enjoyed watching her coworkers play, but she was especially enjoying watching Negan play. She chided herself repeatedly as the game went on for acting like a thirteen year old with a crush, her eyes inadvertently drawn to him the second she stopped making a concerted effort not to stare.

He sported his ‘serious face’ while he played, hyper focused, eyebrows perpetually knitted together, the lines between them more pronounced due to the scowl he inadvertently wore as he concentrated on everyone and everything in the game. He was always on high alert, his eyes darting from one end of the field to the other, his head constantly turning, moving back and forth, taking in every movement and detail.

Only when his team was successful would his expression brighten, his furrowed brows relaxing only to rise as he smiled and laughed in celebration, calling out digs at his opposition and compliments to his teammates. Gigi found herself scowling when he scowled and smiling when he smiled, so caught up in his every move she finally gave up on trying not to stare and focused solely on him as he played.

Her rapt attention was rewarded in the most glorious way when Negan finally realized the futility of raising his arm to wipe the perspiration streaming down his face on the already soaked sleeve of his black v-neck tee shirt, and grabbed the hem of it, pulling it up to blot his neck and face. Oh, what a beautiful sight to behold. Gigi found herself leaning forward in her chair as her eyes feasted on the lean, muscular plains of her neighbor’s chest and stomach. His low slung gray pants allowed her more than a glimpse of the long, delicious valleys on both sides of his well defined abs which sloped exquisitely down and inward to frame a delightfully obscene line of thick, dark, wiry hair sensually cascading over his waistband. Oh. My.

When she finally dragged her eyes away from his belly and let them drift back up his chest to his face, she was embarrassed to discover the object of her desire was staring right back into her eyes. She tried to play it cool as he co*cked an eyebrow at her. Panicked, and desperate for an excuse to break eye contact, Gigi lifted her wine glass to her lips to take a drink, thinking she would look down at the glass to finally break away from his stare. After taking a quick sip she observed the fluid as she swirled it in the glass, intending to look somewhere other than at her neighbor when she moved her gaze back to the playing field. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t do it. Her eyes were drawn right back to him because she had to know. The thirteen year old girl in her, who had felt a flutter in her belly when she’d found him staring back at her, had to know if her crush would still be looking her way. Oh my God, Gigi, grow up. Just do it. Just look at him. Bringing her eyes up from her wine glass she bravely shifted her gaze right back to Negan’s face. Gigi let out the breath she’d been holding when her eyes met his once more, and she may have let out a little gasp when he gave her a smile and a wink.

She winked right back.

Chapter 10: It's A Start

Chapter Text

On Monday morning when Negan passed Gigi’s open office door, he was surprised to see Merle inside, once again sitting in a chair across from her as she sat behind her desk. He was talking animatedly. They both had a cup of Starbucks coffee in one hand. What the f*ck is up with the new besties and their f*cking morning coffee routine?

Gigi sounded horrified as she exclaimed, “Oh, no! What did the man do when Daryl threw up on his shoes?”

The football coach was curious as to when the two had become best f*cking buddies. He rolled his eyes as he heard the pair laughing over Merle’s response to her question. The distant sounds of their conversation filtered into his office as he settled into his chair. co*cking an ear to see if he could make out what they were saying, he was a little pissed when he couldn’t. There was a lot of laughing, and Gigi squealed a few times, which pissed him off all the f*cking more. Then things got quiet, which made him wonder if they were f*cking whispering something they didn't want anyone else to hear.

He was startled when his neighbor suddenly appeared in his doorway, a banana in one hand, her coffee in the other. Slightly breathless from laughing, a big smile on her face she pleaded, “Can you make time to talk to me before you head to the field? Please?”

He stared at her for several seconds, with a bit of a squint, his head tilted to one side. “I’ll respectfully f*cking decline. You and the asshole seem to have a good thing going in there, Gigi. I wouldn’t want to ruin it with business talk,” he needled her.

“You could join us for morning coffee, you know,” she baited him, raising one eyebrow. Taking a bite of the piece of fruit, her cheeks puffed out slightly as she chewed the oversized chunk.

The football coach’s lips quirked up at her lack of grace as she ate. “Maybe some other time,” he refused for a second time, dismissing her by turning to his computer to answer the handful of emails he’d received from hover moms who were concerned about their sons working “at a rigorous level of physical activity” for eight hours in the August heat. f*ck them. No wonder most of these kids are goddamn puss*es.

__________

On Tuesday morning, there was a cup of Starbucks coffee on the floor in front of Negan’s door. It sat on top of a brown paper napkin, which had a smiley face drawn on it in royal blue marker. He enjoyed the beverage as he sorted some paperwork he needed to complete. When he cleaned up his desk to head outside, he picked up the cup of unfinished coffee to take with him. After giving it some thought, he changed his mind and left it on his desk. Walking by Gigi’s office empty handed, he didn't acknowledge the pair inside.

__________

“Do you have time to talk to me now?” His neighbor bounced into his office doorway as he ate his lunch, a half eaten apple in her hand. She smiled at him as she bounced on the balls of her feet, full of f*cking energy.

“No.” She was getting on his last f*cking nerve with the bouncy sh*t. He’d had a sh*tty morning dealing with Jessie Anderson and a handful of moms who had banded together to accost him before he even stepped on the f*cking football field, questioning him about what he was doing to ensure their sons weren’t going to suffer heat stroke. Pulling her son Ron aside once his mother had left, the coach had informed his star running back, if his mother showed up to annoy the f*ck out of him again, the teen’s position on the team would be quickly filled by someone else. He hadn’t mentioned to the boy his mom was personification of the term MILF, and he’d f*ck her senseless if he had the chance.

“Okay. Maybe another time.” Gigi accepted his response cheerily, and then bounced out of sight.

She really needs to calm the f*ck down. Jesus.

________

At four fifteen on Wednesday, when Negan made his way to his office to pack up his things so he could head home, she was standing with her back against the wall, her tote bag hanging from her shoulder, car keys in her hand.

“Now?” she proposed.

He ignored her plea, wanting her to feel the price she had to pay for f*cking him over, and was very f*cking satisfied with the look of disappointment displayed on her face as she turned to walk away.

__________

“Is now a good time?”

“No.”

___________

At five minutes after five o’clock on Thursday afternoon, Negan not only checked his watch, but he double checked it against the time on his phone to be sure it was correct. He continued to casually read the New York Times via the app on his phone, scrolling back up a few paragraphs when he realized he hadn’t absorbed a thing he’d read because he was acting like a f*cking stalker, casing the house next door from his perch on his own deck, watching for signs of any and all activity around it because Gigi was five minutes late for her daily swim. He chuckled at Marshall on the dock, as the boy tried unsuccessfully to cast a line into the water with what the coach recognized as one of Dale’s old fishing rods. The teen had obviously never been fishing.

Negan attempted to read a bit longer before he checked the time again, knowing if his OCD neighbor didn’t come out for her swim by a certain time, she wouldn’t swim at all. He just didn’t know what time she would deem ‘too late’. He’d be f*cked if she decided not to swim, because Thursday was the day she always wore her white halter bathing suit top with her little black swim shorts, and he’d found, if he focused just right with his binoculars, he could make out the precise curves of her luscious little titt*es, and the outline of the darker, raised nipples in their center. He wanted a good look at the titt*es he’d be sucking and licking and nibbling if he had his way. Negan always got his way. He really needed to f*cking mark those tinies as his own by sucking a bruise onto her creamy skin. Soft, sensitive skin which had probably never seen the light of f*cking day. Fuuuuck .

He would need to be careful today, since Gigi’s nephew was close by, and the coach didn’t want to get caught playing Peeping Tom. He’d assumed Marshall hadn’t tattled on his gang after the boy had caught Shane in the act of ass surveillance, since there hadn’t been any repercussions.

Negan had decided the night before, after three double scotch on the rocks, his mourning period was over, convinced his late wife would understand. Sure, he missed her and was still trying to cope with her loss, but he viewed the pain of her loss and his need to move forward as totally separate matters. He was obsessed with the thought Gigi was the perfect woman to move his ass forward.

Lucille had encouraged him to find a woman who would challenge him, and his neighbor definitely f*cking did. Handling challenging women was right up his alley. Easy equaled boring, in Negan’s mind. He had never had any interest in easy unless he was looking for a quick lay.

Added to the fact Gigi would keep him on his toes, she was beautiful and intelligent, which were must haves in his book of wants, because he was self admittedly shallow as f*ck. Interestingly, nuances which he knew stemmed from her dancing appealed to him as well. Her lean, muscular body rated very f*cking high on his self made scale, but he was surprised to find the contrast of her physique and her soft graceful demeanor very f*cking appealing.

He needed a little taste of her. No, he needed a big f*cking taste of the tiny firebrand with the genteel French name. He needed to taste her full lips, and feel those muscular thighs clamped around his hips as he pounded into her wet heat. That f*cker Walsh had unknowingly thrown gasoline on the football coach’s fire with a vision which now monopolized the latter’s thoughts; he needed the ballerina’s toes pointed over his shoulders while those graceful f*cking fingers clutched at his biceps until her pretty little nails drew blood.

A spark, a mere flicker of interest in the ballerina next door was how it had started, but each encounter with her and every new thing he learned about her stoked the flame higher, fueling the promise of a goddamn wildfire. What had started as a lustful want, had quickly turned into raging need.

Negan knew his interest in her was bordering on obsession, an obsession which intensified every time he was close to her. Like a f*cking teenager, he’d get downright, f*cking giddy when he’d hear her voice drifting out of her office in the mornings. You puss* ass f*ck.

The sound of her, the look, the scent, it all had drawn him in, but it was her touch which had painted the picture of how things could be. She had been warm and inviting the first few times she’d reached out and touched him, and the feeling had left him craving more. He’d felt her f*cking fire though, when she’d used his shoulder to vault herself into the air while dancing around his ass in the gym, and the thrill he’d felt when she’d manhandled him the week before was undeniable.

The coach’s fascination with his coworker had twisted into its current state of obsessive yearning when he’d caught Gigi checking him out during Friday night’s happy hour football game. He’d looked up to find her ogling him the same way he ogled her ass at swim time. He’d recognized the heat in her gaze as it had swept over him, the wine glass in her hand suspended in the air halfway to her open mouth, due to her focus on him .

When he had caught her in the act, he’d winked at her to let her know he was on to her, and she’d surprised him when she’d winked back. That was the moment he’d known he could have it all. The warm, inviting, comforting woman, and the sexy as f*ck crazy bitch who would dare to physically jerk his ass around when he pushed her buttons.

He knew he and the object of his desire still needed to fully settle the matter of her dicking him the f*ck over. He’d been wearing Gigi down since the meeting with Philip Blake, refusing each of her requests to talk things out, and downright ignoring her when the mood struck him. The cheerleading coach had started off the week bouncy and chipper, sporting a huge ass smile each time she’d approached him. As of that morning, when he’d walked through the gym while she set up for her day, her smile and her bounce were nowhere to be found. She had walked over to meet him in the middle of the floor, once again asking him if he would please make the time to talk to her. She had looked a bit dejected at his refusal, or perhaps it was a look of defeat, he mused. Whichever it was, he had reveled in her radically changed dispositionbefore he silently continued on his way.

“Would it help if I said I was sorry?” she had blurted out, calling to him as he strode away from her, sounding a little f*cking desperate, which he just. f*cking. loved.

Negan had stopped at her words, turning back to find her the picture of penitence. Her chin lowered, her hands fidgeting at her sides, she had looked up her eyelashes at him as she worried her lip, and he’d found himself wanting to suck its rosy softness into his mouth. He hadn't recognized the woman standing in front of him, having only seen the self assured, dance star who was used to manipulating her world to her liking.

co*cking an ear as if he hadn’t quite heard her, he had taunted dramatically, “What was that, Gigi?”

The silence which followed his question had been deafening, and he could see her struggle with the idea of giving up control. Of giving it to him. She had tried, for a week, to control the situation, force him to talk to her. She had been certain he would eventually give in, because people didn’t say no to Gigi Sokolov.

Negan wasn’t going to give in. He was going to change the game, and it was the perfect time to do so because she had just given him an in. She’d shown him a vulnerability in her need to know how to gain back his favor.

His neighbor had stared at him for a moment as she pondered what he’d asked of her. Give me f*cking control, Gigi. Only one person could be in charge, and it had to be Negan.Gotta be me, because it’s the only f*cking way I operate. If she wanted to make him f*cking happy, if she wanted any kind of place in his f*cking world, she’d give it up.

The seconds had ticked by as they'd stared at each other across the twenty foot divide. He had been able to read, clear as f*cking day, the moment she understood exactly what he wanted when her nostrils had flared and the fingers of one hand had risen to her collarbone, stroking it lightly where it peeked out of the neck of her tee shirt.

Negan could have shot a f*cking load in his pants when she’d finally lowered her chin a bit more, nodding her head almost indiscernibly. Giving him what he wanted. What he insisted on. Control. The thing they’d been battling over since the minute they’d met. Her eyes never left his as she’d softly conceded, “I’m sorry.”

The two words were all he’d needed, the sweetest f*cking words he’d ever heard because they were coming from her. Moving towards her with purpose, he had stopped as close to her as he could manage without touching her. Negan leaned in to whisper to her, nuzzling the shell of her ear with his nose for a fleeting second as he praised, “Good girl, Gigi,” and then, “It’s a start,” before turning and walking away from her. He had grinned from ear to f*cking ear at the stuttering of her breath at his caress, and the relief he’d felt physically washing over her at his words.

__________

A flurry of activity caught Negan’s eye as he flipped to another screen on his phone, and he looked up to see Marshall’s sister Hannah now standing in front of the boy on the dock. Her arms were flailing and fingers pointing toward their house as she spoke. She was obviously upset about something, but strangely she looked as if she was whispering to her brother, sneaking glances at the house and yard as if she were afraid someone would hear her. He wondered if it had to do with Gigi’s absence.

When Marshall took off running towards the house, the football coach became concerned, jumping up from his chair and making his way to the deck railing closest to the children as they barreled up the yard. Wanting to catch the teens’ attention, but remembering the girl’s whispers, he cat called to them as they ran past him. “Psssst!”

Both children stopped in their tracks, looking around for the source of the sound. Marshall looked relieved as he spotted his coach, and rushed over to talk to the man on the deck above him.

“Something wrong?” Negan asked calmly, trying not to feed into the pair’s borderline panic.

“Hannah said the police are questioning Aunt Gigi out front, Coach!” the teen stage whispered so the man above could hear him. “About Uncle Yuri! And they're not being nice.” His sister stood beside the boy, nodding up at her neighbor, a worried look on her face.

Negan wasted no time descending the stairs, ordering the children to go back into their house and let him handle the situation, and reassuring them everything would be fine. Their relief was palpable as they nodded at him and turned to follow his instructions. Walking up the slope of yard between the two houses, the coach heard the sound of voices, and slowed his pace before rounding the corner of the neighboring home. He stood for a moment to listen, his presence unknown by the three people outside Gigi’s front door. His neighbor was talking with two men. Both were dressed in work clothes, dress slacks and shirts. Their ties were loosened at the neck in an effort to keep cool in the humid August air. Standing too close to the woman they were questioning, they were caging her in by standing in front, but on either side of her, the house behind her further boxing her in. They were leaning in to her in an obvious effort to intimidate her.

Negan’s hackles started to rise at his tiny dancer’s vulnerability. She was barely clothed, wearing only her swimsuit, but had pulled her beach towel around her shoulders, letting it drape down as far as the fabric would go so it would hang down her front and back and cover her as much as possible. He quelled the urge to barge into the middle of the triangle, waiting to hear what was being said.

“ … and we talked to your husband’s mother, too, Misses Sokolov, and she was very skeptical of the idea her son would take his own life. Said it wasn’t like him at all,” the shorter of the two men challenged her, a co*cky Latino who was scrolling repeatedly on the screen of his cell phone as if he were skimming through pages of notes.

“Two years ago her assessment would have been accurate, but my husband wasn’t quite himself for the last year of his life, Detective Martinez. His mother must have mentioned that as well?” She relayed the tidbit of information as if her mother in law would have been remiss in not telling them about the change in her son.

“She also brought up her concern about your relationship with a ... Mikhail Baryshnikov?” the second man, a tall African American related as if the identity of the man he had named held no importance for him.

Gigi was looking at them incredulously, her head and eyes moving from one to the other as if she were watching a game of tennis.

“Was there a suicide note, Misses Sokolov?”

“I shared Yuri’s letter with the authorities right after he passed,” the widow informed them, a hint of annoyance in her tone.

“Oh, I’m sure you did,” the larger man retorted, shaking his head slightly.

“Excuse me?” Gigi objected to the man’s insinuation.

“Can we see it again?”

They were talking at her rapid fire, almost badgering her, trying to trip her up in her responses, and Negan was getting angrier by the second. He had read enough about Yuri Sokolov’s death to know there was no question the man had taken his own life. He had overdosed on a three month supply of benzodiazepines he had hoarded after convincing his doctor he suffered from chronic insomnia as a result of his aneurysm. The football coach fumed, knowing Philip Blake had sent these goons to intimidate Gigi, and he wondered if the lawyer was crazy enough to try to start an investigation into her husband’s death.

Negan was startled out of his thoughts by the dancer’s voice as she coolly rejected the request for her husband’s note. “No you cannot see it again, Detective Shumpert.” The coach just about shivered with excitement when she added, “Unless you have a warrant, you have no right to any of my property, and if you want to question me further it will need to be at the precinct, with my attorney present, because this conversation is over.”

There’s my hellion! Gigi’s current persona was radically different from the contrite woman Negan had encountered earlier in the day. He was now watching the same fiery little thing who’d put Blake in his place. She turned to walk to her front door as Negan moved towards the men, wanting his presence known in case they tried to continue to harass her. Chest constricting, his anger flared when Martinez’s hand suddenly reached out to grab Gigi by the elbow to stop her from leaving.

The coach quickly learned his fear for her was unwarranted. She caught the man’s movement out of the corner of her eye. Stepping to the side to avoid his grip, her own hand shot out in a precise motion, grabbing his wrist and wrenching it painfully as she spun to face him. Her towel dropped to the ground as she moved, leaving her to continue her self defense in her swimsuit. Gigi followed up by jabbing Martinez in the throat with the meat of her palm, hard enough to stun him and knock him backwards out of her space. She was quick as f*cking lightning, and clearly not to be underestimated. Holy sh*t, she is f*cking full of dick hardening surprises!

The detective staggered backwards, croaking out a labored groan, and Negan wanted to laugh at the look of utter surprise on his face. The coach took the opportunity to step in front of Gigi, in case the asshole tried to retaliate, and to block as much of her as he could from the men’s view. Even though she was a f*cking bad ass, she looked vulnerable with so much skin showing. She immediately bent down to pick up her towel to wrap around herself, obviously feeling exposed without it.

“Did Blake tell you it was okay to lay f*cking hands on her when you came here to bully her, or did you come up with the stupid f*cking idea all on your own?” he growled, drawing himself up to his full height.

“I don’t know what the f*ck you’re talking about, man! I didn’t f*cking touch the bitch, right Shump?” Martinez rasped, staggering up to Negan, practically standing chest to chest with him. His eyes were wild as he clutched at his damaged throat.

“Good try, sh*thead,” Negan countered, raising the cell phone he'd been holding in his hand. “You didn’t touch her because she didn’t let you! Your attempt to grab Gigi Sokolov ,” he emphasized the famous dancer’s name, "was recorded for posterity’s sake! Oh! And look at that!” He goaded the man dramatically as he double tapped the screen with one finger, right in front of his face. “Already uploaded into the cloud in case you’re thinking about tampering with f*cking evidence!” He waved the phone for emphasis and took a determined step forward, bumping his chest into the detective’s, since his camera was no longer recording. He knew there was no way in hell either of the two detectives were recording their interaction with Gigi, because they wouldn’t want the harassment on record.

He felt Gigi close behind him before her fingers discreetly wrapped around the back of his waist, grounding him before his anger escalated further. She stayed close to him, her face and half her body visible next to him. Negan relaxed his stance slightly, pressing back into her touch to further calm himself before he ordered, “Get the f*ck out of here.” Waiting until the physical threat had backed away he added, “And tell Blake if he comes at her again, I’ll beat his goddamn head into the ground with a f*cking baseball bat!”

Detective Martinez smirked, countering, “Did you just f*cking threaten the next governor of our fine state, in front of two witnesses?” He motioned between himself and his partner with his index finger. “We oughta arrest you right now for threatening a public official!” He looked to his partner for support, grinning widerwhen the man nodded in concurrence.

“The third witness will call you both liars,” Gigi insisted calmly. She stepped out from behind Negan and squared her shoulders as she stood next to him, intimating the two of them would act as one in the matter. Sliding the gracefully pointed toes of her closest foot in front of his in an unconscious show of protection, she continued, “It will be your word against ours, and we have a recording of your inappropriate behavior which might very well bring your allegations against him into question.”

I could f*ck her right here on the front porch, right f*cking now. Negan laughed outright at the two men in front of him. “She’s got you there boys!” They held their ground until Martinez backed up a step, and then the coach placed himself in front of his neighbor once more until both men finally turned and walked across the grass to their car, which was parked on the road in front of the house. He refused to look away from them, wanting to be absolutely f*cking sure they didn’t stir up anymore sh*t before they left.

He was grateful for Gigi’s calming presence so f*cking close to him, and he let out a hum of satisfaction when he felt her forehead press between his shoulder blades and her stomach gently rest against his ass as she leaned on him for physical support. He knew he needed it as much as she did.

Normally energized after a confrontation, thriving on conflict, Negan was agitated in this instance. This particular situation had been different than any in his past because he'd felt Gigi's safety had been threatened, and her character had been called into question, both of which had enraged him. If it had just been about him, he wouldn't have hesitated to verbally and physically provoke a brawl, taking on both men if necessary. He had surprised himself, maintaining his self control, keeping her welfare his primary focus. There was no doubt in his mind though, he would have done anythingto protect her, and the revelation startled him.

Once the men started their car, and drove out of sight, Negan gently pulled her hand from his lower back. Laying his on top of her smaller one, he threaded his fingers through hers and placed them both in the middle of his chest so he could feel her comforting touch, wanting more of the connection which had grounded him during the turmoil. He smiled to himself when she relaxed her body into the back of his, closing the small gap between them.

They didn’t move for a time, drawing comfort from each other, but after hearing Gigi sniffle twice, Negan reluctantly separated from her. Turning to face her, he splayed his fingers on either side of her face, using the pads of his thumbs to wipe away tears which had started to fall. Eyes full of concern, he tilted her head back to force eye contact. “So that bad ass thing you pulled was all a f*cking act?” he gently teased her.

She nodded, the start of a smile quirking up her lips as a few more tears fell from the outside corners of her eyes. He couldn’t stop himself from gently turning her head from one side to the other so he could taste the salt of her tears, swiping at them with his lips. She was so f*cking pliable, relaxed and content to let him move her as he wanted, driving him to continue his exploration once the evidence of her upset was gone. He ran his lips across her forehead and down her cheekbone, following its line down towards her mouth, touching and feeling her in his own intimate way.

Her responses to his ministrations were audible. He heard every hitch of her breath, every hum of satisfaction, every whimper of need as her fingers gripped and released his tee shirt lightly at his sides, teasing the skin underneath in a sensual rhythm which ebbed and flowed with her verbal responses. Fuuuuuuck. When he finally brought his lips to hers, he didn’t touch them, but kept just enough distance so he could feel their heat as he moved along and around them, sharing her sweet breath, drawing her soft moans and cries between his parted lips, taking in as much of her as he could get without making contact, because now wasn’t the time to kiss her. Her upset was too fresh, and his anger hadn’t totally abated, and for some unknown f*cking reason he didn’t want to kiss her in the middle of the cluster f*ck of emotions that were running high due to their confrontation with the detectives. Now wasn’t the right moment.

What the hell is wrong with me? Have my f*cking balls fallen off? Negan pulled back to study her, her eyes fluttering open at the loss of his warmth on her lips and skin.

Eyes lighting up when she met his gaze she murmured, “Thank you, Negan. I feel much better now.”

“Me, too, Gigi.”

Chapter 11: New Girl At School

Chapter Text

Finishing the final twenty strokes of her toothbrush up and down on the left side of her mouth at two fifteen in the morning, Gigi rinsed and dropped her toothbrush into the holder sitting on her bathroom counter then stuck her tongue out, looking at it in the mirror to be sure it was clean. Using a handful of water to swish and spit out any remaining toothpaste in her mouth, because she thought using the same decorative bathroom cup over and over without washing it was disgusting, she then splashed a cup full of water around the sink to be sure it was clean. Putting her hand in front of her mouth she smelled her breath, still finding the scent of tequila despite her vigorous brushing. She smiled at the four hour old memory of Merle tempting her with the two shots she’d ended up downing with him at the Mount Vernon’s staff’s ‘back to school’ party next door.

Peeling off the tank top, bra and capris she’d worn to the get together at Negan’s, she dropped them into the clothes hamper in the corner before walking from the master bathroom into her bedroom in only her thong. While turning down her covers she decided she needed to change into a pair of bikinis so she wouldn’t have to sleep with a string between her cheeks all night.

Turning around to her dresser, which sat parallel with the side of her bed, she reached into the front corner of the top left drawer to find her comfy, cotton, hot pink panties. They were always in the same spot, next to the other red and pink panties, which were next to the orange and peach panties, which were next to the yellow ones because all of her clothes were lined up in the same order as the colors of the rainbow, grouped by type, whether they were in drawers or on hangers.

“Pssst.”

Gigi gasped, her head turning towards the French doors to her right, searching for the source of the faint call. Her arms hurriedly crossed over her chest to cover her bare breasts as her eyes landed on Negan outside. He was standing on her deck, his eyes moving up and down her body. She froze, her mind racing while she tried to figure out her best course of action. Her instinct was to turn her back to him and race to open the drawer in which she kept a few oversized sleep shirts, so she could pull one over her head quickly. She quelled the urge, relishing the heat in his gaze as he leered at her, not wanting it to end.

Her heart was racing, but her body’s response to his presence in her vulnerable state wasn’t fear. Not at all. She was awash with breathtaking arousal. Gigi wanted to be bold, wanted to turn to face him, uncover herself and beckon him to her. But the woman she wanted to be was so far removed from who she'd been allowed to be for so many years, she couldn’t even conjure her ideal persona, despite two shots of tequila.

Negan raised his hand to the door handle and stilled, wordlessly asking for permission to enter. Her heart beating wildly, she nodded before she even had the chance to give the matter any thought.

Fuuuuuuck. f*ckity f*cking f*cky fuuuuck! f*ckf*ckf*ckf*ckf*ck. Her body was everything he’d dreamed of, every vision he’d created in his head as he’d jacked off, every f*cking night since he’d first seen her in her swimsuit. It made no difference he’d seen her with most of her skin exposed. The part he’d dreamed of the most, her perfect, tight, little ass was a veritable feast for his eyes. And the titt*es … f*ck… the tiny, beautiful f*cking titt*es! His mouth was f*cking watering at the sight of them.

Compelled to touch her, to feel her, Negan kept his eyes on hers as he opened the door and stepped through, closing it behind himself. Whether he was successful he had no idea; he was so immersed in the physical and emotional rush to get to her. He was immensely pleased she remained still as he walked to stand behind her. Her head was the only thing which shifted, so she could watch the reflection of him behind her in the large mirror over the dresser. Her doe eyes were nervous, and he could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she observed him in the mirror. He loved her nervousness. He loved the extraordinary f*cking idea he made her nervous.

Settling several inches behind her, Negan’s hands were reaching for her before he willed them to do so. Spreading his fingers, he ran them lightly from her shoulder blades down to the top of her ass. Her head dropped forward, her body trembling in response. Her skin, soft and inviting, made him so f*cking want to continue his run downward to knead her ass cheeks, but he could see a slight hint of concern along with her curiosity when he caught her eye in the mirror, as her chin came back up from her chest.

“Negan, wha ….” Gigi tried to force one of the many questions running through her mind out of her mouth, but found she couldn’t, drowning in the sensations his fingers were creating as they ran up her sides and across her shoulders. It had been so long since she’d be touched so gently, and she was sure she had never been touched so reverently. Her head lolled slightly to the side and then forward, her eyes drifting shut and back open as he caressed her, his touch intoxicating, leaving her with the desire for much more. More of his touch. More of everything he was willing to give. She wanted it all.

Running the fingers of one hand tenderly up the back of her neck, he threaded them through her hair before he gently grabbed her tresses, pulling her head back to force her to look at him in the reflection of the mirror. Something feral stirred deep inside him at the way she let him move her, manipulate her, totally relaxed in his grip.

“Ask me, Gigi,” Negan tilted her head to the side to murmur in her ear, grazing his lips down and back up her neck, the soft cry which fell from her lips intensifying his hunger.

"What are you doing here?" she finally managed to question him, the words coming out in a gush of breath.

“It’s ‘someday’, Gigi.”

____________

Mount Vernon’s new physical education teacher had a sense of deja vu as she walked into the cafeteria on Friday for the staff luncheon, and she hoped she wasn’t going to end up eating alone in a room full of people. It took her back in time to her first day of seventh grade at her new junior high school, when she had walked around with her tray of food for ten minutes looking for an open seat. Luckily a girl from her home room had taken pity on her, inviting Gigi to sit at a table with her and her friends.

The rest of the school’s teaching staff had started back to work in the morning, finally joining the two phys ed teachers who had been holding practices for the past two weeks. Gigi had stopped to get latte for everyone in her department, leaving a cup outside of everyone’s office door. Each had a cheery note on a napkin, written in purple Sharpie, about how she couldn’t wait to meet them. Of course, there was a smiley face for all of them. She’d thought about drawing a heart on Negan’s napkin, but had decided to draw a caricature instead, smiling at the memory of their moment on her front porch. Calling on her respectable art skills, she’d drawn herself in her bathing suit and toe shoes, one leg kicking out towards two men in ties. A tall man with a close shaven beard and mustache was standing to the side, his eyes wide as he watched, a super hero’s red cape flowing on an unseen breeze, behind him. She’d added a speech bubble over his head with “What a badass!” written inside. Underneath the picture she had written, “Thank you for saving me!” with a tiny heart dotting the exclamation point for good measure. Pleased with her art work and her message, she’d dropped off his coffee last and made her way to the gym to start her day. She had given her cheerleaders the day off since she would be in meetings for several hours. She had to be in a departmental meeting in the morning, a luncheon and a meeting with the entire staff in the afternoon. Gigi was excited to meet everyone and to see Carol, who would be coming back to work today with the rest of the teachers. She hadn’t seen her friend since Yuri’s funeral.

She had been running through a new routine when two women had come through the doors, stopping to introduce themselves and thank her for her their drinks. Michonne Hawthorne was a beautiful, dark skinned woman with dreads swept to one side, sleek and glamorous despite her athletic build. Tara Chambler was her opposite, her dark hair framing a light olive complexion which was void of makeup. She was cute and down to earth, sporting a tiny bun on either side of the back of her crown.

“Was that one of Mount Vernon’s new cheers?” Tara had asked Gigi, referring to the moves the new coach had been performing when they’d walked into the gym.

“If so, you’re going to shake things up at state competition in October,” Michonne predicted with a smile.

“I hope so,” Gigi had confessed. “I’ve watched too many boring competition videos online. I really want to break our squads away from the cookie cutter routines where everyone stands around waiting to do a tumbling run while music plays in the background. I want my squads to dance and tumble! Even in competition.”

“Sounds awesome,” had been Tara’s reply. “All the routines really do start to look the same after you’ve seen a few of them. Tumble, tumble, hand clap, hand clap, tumble, throw someone in the air, tumble … ” The girls’ lacrosse coach feigned boredom, adding a fake yawn with a fist in front of her mouth as she described the typical cheerleading routine.

“Right?” Michonne had nodded her head in concurrence.

“Hey,” Tara looked at her watch, then at the two women. “What time is our meeting with our illustrious department head?”

“Eleven.”

“Let’s hope he’s had an attitude adjustment since last year,” Michonne complained, shaking her head.

“No kidding. He’s barely tolerable when he’s in a good mood,” Tara explained to the newest staff member. “At the end of last year, he was downright foul. I think all the teachers in our department were relieved when he stopped working before the end of the year.”

While Gigi knew first hand how difficult Negan could be, she couldn’t help feeling defensive about the likely reason for his exceptionally foul mood. “Oh, I’ve already had some run ins with the man,” she’d commiserated gently. “But I’m sure watching his wife suffer must have been hard for him,” Carol had told her about his wife’s cancer, and she’d felt even more of a sense of kinship with her neighbor, understanding what he’d been through. “Even when you try to stay upbeat, it’s wearing.”

The other two women had been awkwardly silent as they stared at her, taking a moment to process her defense of the football coach. They were clearly unaware of Yuri’s death, making her sorry she’d spoken up, She didn’t want a discussion or any sympathy about the matter and she also didn’t want to alienate these women.

“I’m sorry, Gigi,” Tara apologized. “I shouldn’t kick him when he’s down. He can be such an asshole at times, it’s hard to remember he’s human.”

Michonne had huffed out a laugh, chiding, “Great apology, woman.” Turning to the new teacher she explained, “We shouldn’t have been bad mouthing Negan.” After a pause she’d added, “We shouldn’t have been gossiping at all.”

“No worries, ladies,” Gigi had reassured them with a smile. “I know first hand what a pain he can be. Trust me. And I do love good gossip!”

Picking right up on her admission, Tara had leaned in to her and murmured out of the side of her mouth, side eyeing Michonne, “You’re going to tell me all about those run ins you mentioned, right?”

“Tara!” her friend admonished her, as the new girl laughed at their antics.

_______

Negan was sitting at a table in the cafeteria with a handful of men, his buddy Simon extolling the virtues of ranch life in Montana. “Other than the permanent chafing on the inside of my thighs from horseback riding, it was fantastic! Fresh air, mom’s good cooking, and my little misses was nice and relaxed, so I got laid aplenty !”

The other men at the table nodded their heads, someone piping in, “Nice!” in validation.

“Was it good sex? Or hurry up and get it over with sex?” Merle queried, stealing a cannoli off Negan’s plate and stuffing it in his mouth.

After giving the man the hairy eyeball, Negan scanned the room, watching other staff members filter in, finally spotting Gigi walking into the room by herself.

“Oh it was the gooood sex!” Simon responded with a wink, as the football coach turned back to him.

Their conversation was interrupted by a woman’s voice, calling across the room, “Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou, oh Romeo?”

Negan was equally pissed and horrified, recognizing the voice as that of his neighbor. What in the flying f*ck?! She wouldn’t … she didn’t … f*ck! I should have known there was a f*cking psycho hiding in her tiny body! I didn’t even f*cking kiss her and she’s acting all f*cking love sick? Stalking me at work? sh*t! He ignored her greeting, grabbing a potato chip from his plate. “Hey! Happy hour at my place again tonight?” f*ck. We should go to the Kozy Keg since Glenn Close might show up at my house with her f*cking rabbit stew. sh*t! “Maybe we should go out this week …”

His suggestion trailed off as the response to Juliet’s query rung out from the other side of the room, “Ahh, fair Juliet! Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?” The overly dramatic timber of Ezekiel Evans, the head of Mount Vernon’s drama department called back to Gigi. The room had quieted, including the men at Negan’s table as their heads turned to take in the scene playing out on the other side of the room. He didn't know what f*ck was going on, but he was relieved he wasn't the object of her Shakespearean affection.

“What the hell?” Merle muttered under his breath.

“Good f*cking question,” Negan responded as Ezekiel f*cking leapt and pranced over to Gigi on his f*cking toes. f*cking girly man. The new cheerleading coach proceeded to join him in a ten second pas de deux which ended with flare, Zeke lifting her by the waist to rest her lower back on his shoulder. The new PE teacher extended one leg vertically above his shoulder, the other parallel to the ground, while nimbly lowering her head back so far it practically hit her partner in the ass.

Ezekiel set her down with ease, the two of them immediately breaking into laughter over the amateurish impromptu ballet they'd obviously performed together before. Pulling Zeke in for a hug, she squealed in delight, “I can’t believe you work here!”

Jesus Christ. Negan rolled his eyes as the room broke out in applause, everyone murmuring about the new cheerleading coach. Glad she’s not a f*cking psycho. Just an attention whor*.

“Bravo!” Simon called over the din dramatically. “Bravo, my little inamoratas!” Turning to his buddy he asked, “Who’s the hot little number?”

The football coach ignored his friend, watching the interaction between the f*cking drama queen and his neighbor. It was clear they were excited over their unexpected reunion, and he wondered how they knew each other. Obviously they had danced together at some point, to some awful f*cking choreography.

“She’s the new PE teacher,” Shane answered the track coach’s question. “I need to bend her in half, man. I’m tellin’ you. It obviously can be done.” He waved his index finger in an arc, referring to her final pose with the drama teacher. “If she can do it backward, she definitely can do it forward.”

“A lady who’s classy tastes so much sweeter when she’s nasty,” Merle recited. “Mm, mm, mmm.”

Negan couldn’t stop himself from bragging, “Oh she is definitely flexible,” as he pictured her stretching in the hall earlier in the week, her legs spread and pulled up towards her chest in a V while she pushed her ankles towards the floor with her fingertips.

He didn’t see the other men's heads snapping up to look at him curiously, wondering how he knew, because he was intent on his neighbor across the room. After standing for a few minutes with Ezekial’s hands in hers while they spoke animatedly, Gigi virtually bounced across the room with him tow to hug Carol Peletier as she entered the cafeteria, and the two women walked arm in arm with Rasta man, talking excitedly. Negan didn’t know what the f*ck they were talking about, but Gigi’s mouth and hands were moving a mile a minute, very gracefully of course, her friends captivated by the conversation as she looked back and forth between them, speaking with both. By the time they got to the buffet line, there were a few more people Gigi’s group had picked up on the way, and she managed to engage each and every f*cking one of them as Eugene held her plate so she could spoon food onto it.

You have got to be f*cking kidding me. Other that their meeting with Blake, he’d never seen her interact with anyone other than her students and himself. She was drawing people to her, and she interacted with each person she met as if they were fascinating, and their words were the most interesting she’d ever heard. The kicker was, she was absolutely f*cking genuine. He knew first hand there was nothing phony or pretentious about her. What you see is what you f*cking get.

Negan’s scrutiny of the dancer didn’t go unnoticed, Merle honing in on the fact as the football coach watched her flit around the room. “Hey, lover boy,” he taunted the man. “You gonna invite your girlfriend to the get together tonight, or is it a boy’s club thing?”

“f*ck you, Merle.”

“Not today. My hemorrhoids are acting up,” was the groundskeeper’s retort. “And you didn’t answer my question, dickhe*d.”

“We’ll see.”

“Come on, man!” Shane prodded the party’s host, slightly agitated his coworker seemed to have the hots for his next mark. He’d sweep her right out from under Negan’s nose if he had to. “Let’s have our big back to school party tonight! Christ, there’ll be enough food left over here. We can just move it to your place! I’ll load it in the back of my truck.” He needed to get his hooks into the cheerleading coach before her neighbor got the chance. Who would be able to resist a widower? Feelin’ all sorry for him and sh*t. A party would be the perfect opportunity to snag his prize.

“Alright,” Negan acquiesced. “but we’re not inviting the f*cking science department, other than Eugene. I don’t want them blowing up my f*cking dock again after one sex on the beach .” The disgust in his voice over the teachers’ drink choice was clear. There was still a black stain on his deck from the chemical experiment gone awry, and he’d heard that Milton Mamet was still having difficulties hearing out of his left ear. “And I don’t want that psychology teacher who’s always picking her teeth there, either. She turns my f*cking stomach.”

“Hell, no!” Abraham gave a shudder of distaste, Simon joining him in the physical sentiment.

“I’m definitely gonna invite your crush Olivia, Merle,” Negan teased his buddy.

“Hey, don’t make fun, asshole. I like a lotta cushion so I can go hard on the pushin’.”

A rowdy chorus of affirmation went up in response to the comment.

________

Gigi was in her element, talking with her new coworkers. They had taken over one of the long tables with bench seats on either side, and she’d chosen a seat in the center so she would be able to see and hear everyone. Such nice people! Having finished her salad with a tablespoon of vinaigrette and her steamed green beans, she headed back to the buffet to see if there was any low carb fruit for dessert.

Putting three chunks of cantaloupe and four strawberries on her plate, she stayed away from the higher sugar choices like pineapple and watermelon, wondering if she’d had enough salad to balance the carbs on her plate. She eyed a platter of cupcakes next to the fruit platter, starting her usual internal discussion about whether she should take one or not, trying to convince herself a half a cupcake wouldn’t throw her diet off. Maybe one bite? You have to treat yourself sometimes, she reasoned with a frown. Okay, how about one fingerful of frosting?

“Fruit for dessert, Coach Sokolov?” Negan teased her, sidling up next to her and resting his hand on her lower back, deliberately claiming her for that f*cker Walsh to see. “Come on, Gigi. One cupcake won’t kill you.”

“Cupcake? What’s a cupcake?” she joked, sounding perplexed. “I vaguely recall cupcakes from my childhood, but I’ve been on a low glycemic diet since I was twenty, so I think I’ve suppressed the memory of anything with icing. You see this, Gigi?” She suddenly mimicked a thick, harsh Russian accent as she reached down and pinched the outside of her thigh with her free hand. “This jeegles when you move. Work on it!When you are called out by Baryshinikov in front of a group of your fellow dancers, you make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Jesus, what a dick.”

“No, not really,” she defended Misha. “He knew what the expectations were for prima ballerinas, even if they were extreme. Our audience didn’t want to see me jiggle. I ate one can of tuna a day for a month to lose the jiggle. I ended up ninety four pounds, soaking wet.”

“And you haven’t had a cupcake since? Even since you stopped dancing?” He picked up one of the beautifully decorated pastries he had bought at the bakery on the way to work, peeled down the wrapper and took a hefty bite, groaning in appreciation. “So sad for you.”

Gigi frowned at him in mock upset for several seconds as he savored his dessert. Leaning into him with a surge of courage and a sly grin, she queried lowly, “Perhaps if I lick your lips I would get a little taste?”

Fuuuuck me! She walked away before Negan could pull himself together to respond, leaving him staring at the empty spot where she’d stood.

Turning to watch her walk back to her table, he was startled when he came face to face with Rosita, and he groaned inwardly. He hadn’t talked to the woman since he’d broken things off with her in the spring, having avoided her at work until he’d taken leave to care for Lucille. He had no idea what the f*ck to say to her.

“Hi Negan … ” She sported a smile which rivaled the Cheshire Cat’s, moving to stand too close to him.

Oh, f*cking, no. The coach deliberately took a step backwards, letting her and anyone else who might be watching know he didn’t want her in his space.

“I wanted to tell you how sorry I was to hear about your wife,” the woman offered, managing to make her sentiment sound heartfelt.

Negan wasn’t buying it. “Thanks, Rosita,” he looked over his former mistress, wondering what the f*ck he’d ever seen in her. At one time he’d thought she was hot, but her view of Lucille’s cancer as an inconvenience for her and their affair had flipped a switch in him, ending any attraction he’d had to her and leaving him with a bad taste in his mouth.

“I’ve been thinking about you all summer,” the Latina continued, taking a half step towards him.

The football coach raised his eyebrows at her, and co*cked his head, waiting for her to back the f*ck up the half step before he responded co*ckily, “Women tell me that all the time. Can’t say as I blame them.”

“Come on, Negan.” She rolled her eyes at the egotistical remark. “You know what I mean. I’ve been worried about you. Wondering how you’re doing after … everything.”

“After everything? You mean after my wife died? I’m doing just fine, Rosita,” he informed her.

“Well if you ever get lonely, or need someone to talk to …” she stepped towards him again, reaching out to touch his arm.

“You have got to be f*cking kidding me.” Shaking his head with an expression which reflected his disgust, he turned and walked away from her.

Chapter 12: Someday

Chapter Text

Negan’s deck, yard and dock were full of people, some spilling over onto Gigi’s lot. Mount Vernon’s Back To School Happy Hour Extrava-f*cking-ganza, as it had been named a few years before, was in full swing. A good time was being had by all, the sounds of laughter and chatter filling the air. What had started as a simple happy hour get together a decade before for the men of Mount Vernon’s phys ed department, had grown into a celebration for the entire staff of the school. Everyone was there, minus the science department, due to the unfortunate f*cking dock incident two years prior, and minus the tooth picker. If the football coach was going to host the huge, pain in the f*cking ass gathering, he had the right to dictate who was allowed to attend.

Despite the work involved, the football coach actually enjoyed hosting parties at his home. They had become more of a pain in the ass, though, since he no longer had Lucille’s help with cooking and cleaning. Parties used to seem so effortless. He realized now, it had seemed so because she had done most of the work.

There was something satisfying in knowing people were having a good time, and he had a thing for plying people with alcohol and watching their drunk asses in action. A person’s true colors came out when they were inebriated. He would consider the get together a success if someone passed out, or threw up on his lawn.

He performed his due diligence, mingling and chatting, and at some point realized he was inadvertently tailing Gigi as he made his rounds to talk to all of his guests who weren’t assholes. It was if she was f*cking magnetized. He’d made a concerted effort to move away from her so he wouldn’t look like a f*cking creeper, but he always ended up back within a ten foot radius of her where, interestingly, he could hear her snippets of conversations with other people.

Taking a break from participating in mindless chit chat, he looked around for his dancer and spotted her talking with Merle a few feet away. It amused Negan the two had become so buddy-buddy, always deep in personal conversation despite the fact they came from totally separate worlds. What didn’t f*cking amuse him was the man wasn’t sharing his intel about the ballerina. “Find out your own damn self,” he’d advised Negan whenhe had asked what the groundskeeper had learned about Gigi during their conversations.

Merle's relationship with the dancer interested Negan because on the outside, they would seem to be night and day. The redneck had grown up in a trailer park, with an abusive, alcoholic father. He’d dropped out of high school, and after a few run ins with the law and a few years in juvie for assault when he was a teen, he had decided to get his sh*t together and try to follow the straight and narrow. He’d gotten his high school equivalency certificate, and had ended up working at Mount Vernon. He still lived on the same lot in his family’s trailer home in Manassas, Virginia. With money he’d saved, he’d torn down the decrepit structure of his teenage years and bought himself a double wide, which he shared with Daryl.

From what the football coach had read about Gigi, she grew up in a happy, healthy suburban household before she was recruited into one of the most prestigious ballet companies in the nation, and spent most of her married years living the high life in upper Manhattan. She had money coming out of her ass, and was besties with the likes of Mikhail Baryshnikov. But there she was, all up in Merle’s space, talking and laughing with him, Negan was sure, just as she would with her uppity ass ballet friends, talking with a man many of the teachers at their school never thought to reach out to, because he wasn’t on their level. f*ck them.

“When my brother died, and we adopted Hannah and Marshall, we decided to leave New York and move into their family house in Annandale to care for them. They didn’t need anymore upheaval in their life after losing their parents, you know?”

“So ya left yer New York penthouse behind and moved to the suburbs of DC to make it easier on them? Those kids are damn lucky to have an aunt like you.”

Gigi shook her head. “It was just the right thing to do because I love them, Merle. Just like you took care of Daryl after your mother died. You felt it in here, right?” she touched her fingertips to her heart, causing the groundskeeper to nod thoughtfully. Negan admired both of them for putting family first. He wouldn’t know what that was like. His amazing wife had put him first, always, but his mother and father had both been self absorbed, their own problems outweighing any need to nuture their son.

He found himself a little f*cking bothered Merle knew more about his neighbor than he did. Other than their conversation about her dancing, they’d been so busy sparring with each other, Negan knew nothing about her other than what he’d read and what he’d observed from his deck.

He walked away from the pair’s conversation, but kept his eye on Gigi, stopping to talk to with this person and that, constantly scanning the crowd for her, pleased when she was close by. He kinda f*cking liked catching her doing the same a few times after she’d moved to talk to someone new, and once her eyes would catch his, she would stop her search and go back to giving her full attention to her conversation. She would give him a smile. He would give her a nod or a wink, and they went about their business. There was definitely some serious f*cking flirting going on as he continued to listen and learn.

_________

“Every year I whip up what I call my ‘spring cleaning casserole’. I can make miracles happen with water chestnuts.”

“I bet you can! Your recipe, for cola canned ham? Mrs. Peletier, you are an honest to goodness hero!” Maria, one of the school's cafeteria workers, praised. “Pedro’s work gives him one every year at Christmas and I could never make anything decent out of it before you gave me that recipe.”

“Please. Call me Carol.”

“She is the best cook!” Gigi gushed about her friend. “She kept me from starving when we lived together in New York.”

“Really? You two lived together?”

“We did,” Carol confirmed, squeezing Gigi’s hand, her affection for her friend in her eyes. “For three years when we first started dancing.”

“You two danced? What kind of dance?” Maria questioned.

Negan hadn’t known his neighbor and the home economics teacher had lived together. Their relationship was deeper than sharing dance classes and rehearsals.

________

“You know you probably haven’t had a minute to relax since your husband got sick. If you ever need someone to take you out and show you a good time ….”

“Thanks, Shane, but I think this get together is the most excitement I’ll be able to handle for awhile.”

“Anytime, Gigi. The offer stands.”

If he f*cking runs his finger up her forearm one more time I’m going to f*cking pummel him! Luckily her conversation with the man was short, negating the need for Negan to put him in his place.

_______

“I was attacked one night when I was walking home from dance rehearsal. The man tried to grab my purse and run, but I wouldn’t let him have it. He ended up holding my arm,” Gigi grabbed her own bicep to demonstrate. “So he could hold me in place while he punched me a few times so I’d let go. I wasn’t strong enough to fight back, or get out of his grip,” the ballerina revealed to Paul Rovia, Mount Vernon’s soccer coach. “A good friend paid for me take self defense lessons so I’d be able to hold my own if something like that ever happened again.” She turned the conversation to her coworker. “How about you? What made you decide to start martial arts training?”

“I grew up in a group home, and I was kind of scrawny. Between that and being gay, I was constantly bullied by the other kids, and being pushed around by people on the street,” Paul explained as Gigi reached out to squeeze his hand in sympathy, her concern for him written all over her face. “So as soon as I was able, I started taking martial arts lessons at the local gym. It wasn’t long before people stopped messing with me.”

“Well I think the idea of us teaching a self defense class in the evenings, once a week is amazing!”

“Great! You think you’ll be able to fit it in around cheerleading and dance?”

“Oh I know I can! We can talk next week and figure out the logistics.”

“Perfect! You want to get some dinner, or a drink one night after work so we can go over what we’ll cover?”

“That would be fantastic!” Gigi squeezed Paul’s arm in her excitement.

_________

“It was so heavy I was changing my super tampons four times a day. And the cramps. Oh. My. God,” Tara moaned dramatically as Gigi nodded in sympathy.

“Mine used to be like that, too, until I had a baby,” Maggie informed her.

“Wow. That helped?” Tara’s face lit up at the prospect.

“Oh, yeah. No more cramps!”

Way more f*cking information than I need to know.

________

“I’m going to tell him tomorrow, when Sophia is at her sleepover.” Carol apprised Gigi, glancing around to be sure no one was listening. When she caught Negan’s eye, he gave a small smile and quickly moved his eyes around the crowd as if he was looking for someone.

“That worries me Carol,” his neighbor countered. “How do you think he’s going to respond?”

“I think the prospect of the money is going to offset his anger over my leaving.”

“What if it doesn’t? Are you sure you don’t want me there?” Gigi offered. “Even if I’m not in the house, I can have my car running outside, or we could come up with a signal so I know to call the police?”

What the f*ck? No you should not f*cking be there when her husband loses his sh*t!

________

After dancing around his neighbor for a time, Negan finally joined her and Ezekiel as they conversed. “So how do you two know each other?” he inquired. “It was obvious your little dance in the cafeteria was well rehearsed, even if it did suck.” The melodramatic tone he used ensured his critique was funny, instead of offensive.

The two laughed, Gigi admitting, “Yes it did! But when we choreographed and performed it our junior year for our highschool talent show, we were convinced our combination drama and ballet, with a hint of modern dance, was revolutionary!”

“Oh, God! We did, didn’t we?” Zeke laughed heartily at their naivete, the other two joining him.

“Zeke was the only male in dance class and dance club. He and I partnered a lot . There were twenty something girls and Zeke, so he had to partner with every one of us, which I know he just hated.”

“ Hated it,” the man bemoaned sarcastically. “Ahhh, those were the days! Holding one beautiful girl after the other, in my arms.”

“No f*cking doubt!” Negan affirmed.

________

“So I talked to my lawyer, like you suggested, for advice about Detective Martinez and Shumpert’s visit.” Gigi had made her way around to Negan, catching him when he was alone. They stood next to the trees at the edge of his property, away from the mass of people who were congregating in the center.

“What did he say?” Negan found it strange she had an attorney she used so often she referred to him as “my lawyer”.

“She,” Gigi gently corrected Negan. “Her name is Andrea. I wanted to check with her to see if she thought Philip Blake could stir up some sort of investigation into Yuri’s death.”

“And?”

“Luckily, she doesn’t think he’d be stupid enough to drag me through the mud, unless he has some pretty damning evidence that his death was caused by something other than suicide,” she explained, both frustration and sadness in her tone. “There is none. He knows he’d be opening himself up to a civil suit for defamation of character, and the fact he and I butted heads about his daughter would make his investigation look suspicious.

“Good,” Negan replied, glad her concern had been alleviated.

“The coroner ruled the death as suicide. Once the police read the suicide note there were no further questions,” she relayed, the memory obviously stirring up negative emotions. She paused for a moment to calm herself and continued, “They never acted like they suspected foul play.” Gigi paused again, trying to ward off the tears which were threatening to fall. “The thought of anyone thinking I would harm my husband ...” she shook her head, huffing out a breath in despair. She took a deep breath, her tone suddenly changing to one more positive as she apologized, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought this up in the middle of a party. I just wanted to let you know what the attorney said, after you suggested I contact her.”

“No worries,” Negan reassured her gently. “Gigi, don’t let that asshole bother you. Your lawyer is right. I’m sure Blake was just trying to rattle you by sending those goons here to question you.” He studied her in light of the tiki torches he’d lit when the sun had set, wondering thoughtfully, “A suicide note, huh? That must’ve been hard to read.”

The pain was evident in her eyes when she admitted, “I haven’t read it yet. Does that make me a horrible person? I had to give it to the police before I had the chance to read it. They gave it back after they documented it, and I tucked it into a drawer. I haven’t been able to look at it since.”

He knew she was looking to him for validation, because she felt he might be able to relate to her avoidance. “No, Gigi. You haven’t read the letter for the same reason I haven’t been able to clear Lucille’s stuff out of our bedroom. You’re not ready yet.” He had the urge to reach out and touch her, or pull her into his arms, but he stopped himself, knowing he didn’t want anyone to see the intimate gesture. Besides wanting to avoid being fodder for the school’s rumor mill, he and Gigi were sharing something only they could understand. No one else deserved the f*cking privilege of peeking into their exclusive club.

Once again her big, beautiful eyes were looking up at him as she sympathized, her voice full of emotion, yet soft and comforting, “Oh, Negan! I don’t know which would be harder for you. Clearing out her things, which would feel like a betrayal because you would be setting her aside, or the pain of walking into a room every day which is full of reminders she’s no longer there ...”

He was startled when he had to look away from her, her words like a punch to his gut. He’d been having a conversation with himself for weeks about why he couldn’t bring himself to pack up Lucille’s things and remove them from the bedroom. His frustration over his inability to complete the simple task grew as each week passed. He hadn’t understood why it seemed insurmountable, until the very wise woman gazing up at him had looked into his f*cking mind and put the f*cked up, jumbled mess she found there into words.

“Probably why I’ve been sleeping on the f*cking couch,” he shared with the empty space to his left, because he couldn’t f*cking look at her yet. Negan hadn’t thought about why he’d continued to sleep in the family room most nights, even after the need to be there for Lucille no longer existed.

Gigi watched his profile, reading his upset, even as he tried to hide it. His eyes wandered, though she was sure they weren’t seeing a thing, and his nostrils flared as he took a deep breath. She had been standing in front of him, but impelled to comfort him she moved to stand on his right side, so as not to force herself into his line of vision. She stood quietly, looking out over the party in front of them. Raising her hand, she laid it gently on his back, rubbing it with her thumb. Negan immediately relaxed into her touch, the tense posture he’d taken on disappearing as he let out let out a long slow breath, finally turning to look at her. Not wanting to overdo, the dancer stepped back in front of him so they could continue their conversation when he was ready.

One simple f*cking touch of her hand and he felt better. I am in so much f*cking trouble with this one.

__________

Negan’s phone vibrated as he stood on the deck, looking down at the women on the lawn below. The party had thinned out, and the remaining guests had separated into groups. The men were conversing around the table on the deck, while the women had moved down to the yard. They’d pulled several lawn chairs into a circle and were talking enthusiastically, obviously feeling a little loose from the alcohol they’d consumed. Hoots and hollers and laughter were reaching up to him, making him chuckle with them as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

12:30 AM Merle

Get your ass downstairs.

Come outside through

the basem*nt sliders.

The phone vibrated again, another message popping up on the screen.

12:30 AM Merle

Be quiet about it.

“Hey fellas, I’ll be back,” he excused himself, heading through the house and down to his basem*nt. He almost flipped the light switch on at the bottom of the steps, but remembering Merle’s warning, he decided to leave the lights off, so as not to draw attention to himself.

Negan made his way to the sliding glass doors which lead to the patio under the deck, sliding one open just far enough so he could fit through the gap. Stepping into the darkness outside, he looked from side to side for Merle. A soft noise to his right caught his attention, from an area void of illumination from the torches. He quietly walked towards the source of the sound, barely making out his friend’s form in the darkness. A roar of laughter went up from the women in the yard as Negan leaned against the wall next to his friend, wondering what the f*ck he was up to.

“Just listen,” the groundskeeper murmured during the din, so only his buddy would hear.

Negan turned his attention to the conversation going on fifteen feet in front of him. They were in the perfect position to eavesdrop, hidden in the shadows.

“... And he expected to get laid? Is he kidding me? Maybe I’d have the energy if I didn’t have to come home from work, cook dinner, start the laundry and then pick up all his stuff from around the house before bed,” Michonne complained.

“Men! They really are clueless,” Lori Grimes, commiserated. The principal’s wife didn’t teach at the Mount Vernon, but she always attended after school functions with her husband. Negan had always wondered if it was in support, or to keep an eye on him.

“No kidding. My boyfriend gripes about how he never gets any action, but he’s not smart enough to realize if I had an org*sm every time we had sex, like he does, I’d be doing cartwheels into the bedroom every night at six o’clock,” Sasha Williams, from the business education department, complained.

She high-fived Michonne, whose hand had whipped up into the air faster than lightning in support of the woman’s claim. “Amen to that!” she exclaimed. “I mean, how hard is it to figure out? It’s common sense, right?” She looked around the circle of women for confirmation.

Negan nudged Merle in the dark, his friend elbowing him back, pointing at the principal’s wife, who was nodding in agreement, along with the other women. They’d struck gold in their eavesdropping. f*ck! I missed Gigi’s response. The dancer was sitting across from him, and he had a perfect view of her, her knees gracefully pulled up to her chest, feet on the seat of her chair as she listened to the discussion around her.

“They’re not going to figure it out because they’re men ,” Tara chimed in knowingly. “You guys all need to start batting for my team. I’m telling you, women never leave you hanging like men do.”

Negan couldn’t help the small groan which escaped him at the thought of some girl on girl action. He wondered if Tara was into threesomes and if she was possibly bisexual. Her partner wasn’t his type, though. His thoughts were interrupted by a back hand to his ribs from his fellow spy, who hushed him quietly as the women all murmured in agreement.

“I was just telling my sister the other day how it amazes me that it’s expected for a woman to bring a man to org*sm with a great blow j*b, or a great lay,” Lori confided. “But when a man makes a woman come, the reaction is ‘He’s so talented!’ These lips of mine could win the million on America’s Got Talent, but do I get any recognition for it?”

Oooh. How f*cking talented are those lips Misses Grimes?

The crowd called out a collective “Nooooo!”, and the football coach noted how Gigi laughed, her eyes wide at the woman’s admission.

“And tell me this, ladies,” Michonne prompted the group, “How many times have you given your man a blow j*b, or and hand job to satisfy him, and expected nothing in return? Just because you wanted to? A hand job in he shower,” she went on to describe, “a blow j*b before you fall asleep at night … ” Some raised their hands in the air, while the others affirmed with a “Me!” or nodded, as Gigi did.

Good f*cking girl! My good f*cking girl.

Michonne nodded in approval as she continued, “Now tell me, how many of your men have ever gone down on you, or brought you to org*sm somehow, without expecting something in return? How many of them made you come, then kissed you goodnight and rolled over and went to sleep, content to simply satisfy you ?” She looked from person to person, waiting for someone to respond. There was absolute silence as the women looked around to see if they were missing a positive response. After several seconds of quiet, they erupted in laughter over their shared plight.

“So frustrating! But talking about it doesn’t change a thing. I’ve discussed the lack of gender equality in our bedroom with Pedro,” Maria shared, the group laughing at her use of the catch phrase. “But it fell on deaf ears!”

“I’m serious guys, lesbian is the way to go. Unlike men, women actually listen when you talk …”

“But I like penises! The lesbian thing won’t cut it for me,” Rosita laughingly argued with Tara, a “Me, too!” called out by someone Negan couldn’t see.

“So I guess those of us who prefer the male anatomy are doomed to live a life full of sexual frustration!” Olivia lamented, pushing her glasses up her nose with her index finger. A collective sigh filled the air in response.

Gigi looked around the group, suddenly commanding, “Come on! Have a little faith, ladies! I have to believe that someday, that selfless man who makes his lover’s org*sm his biggest priority, is going to come along.” She nodded her head as she looked at the other women in the group, firmly convinced of her assertion.

“You are so optimistic!”

“You really think that man exists?”

“I do!” the new girl reiterated. “But I also think women tend to settle for less than what we deserve, instead of speaking up about what we really want,” the cheerleading coach added, throwing some of the responsibility for the women’s dissatisfaction, back on them.

“She’s got a point there, girls!” Sasha teased her friends.

“Sounds like you’re waiting on that perfect man too, Gigi?” Tara inquired. “Wait, are you single?”

“I am,” Gigi laughed at the woman’s confused expression. It was so hard to know how much people knew about her. It depended on whether they were ballet fans, or paid attention to the entertainment news. “I’m recently single, so I need to believe a fantastically selfless, amazing lover will magically fall into my bed someday!”

“For Gigi!” Lori held her beer bottle in the air for a toast. “Here’s to someday!”

“To someday!” the dancer laughed, raising her plastic party cup of wine in the air before tapping it on the rim of Carol’s, who sat next to her.

Oh, sweetheart. Your someday is right around the f*cking corner.

_______

"What are you doing here?" she finally managed to ask him, the words coming out in a gush of breath.

“It’s ‘someday’, Gigi.”

Negan wanted to chuckle at the bewilderment on her face as she pieced together what he was talking about. Her bedroom eyes were still on his when she gasped in recognition of his words. Bingo!

Keeping his grip on her hair, because he seriously f*cking liked the feel of dominating her, he stepped closer, molding himself to her back. His mind was in overdrive, contemplating everything he wanted to do with her, but he could still see something in her eyes that he couldn’t put a finger on. Just a hint of worry, or hesitation.

“Are you drunk, Gigi?” he questioned her softly, having seen her shooting tequila with Merle a few hours before. When she shook her head in response he prodded, “Are you buzzed?” because he’d be damned if he’d take advantage of her if she was inebriated.

“Just a little,” she replied honestly, moaning as he skimmed his fingers from her belly button down to the lace at the top of her thong, toying with the edge of it.

While Gigi appreciated the reason for his line of questioning, she knew exactly what she wanted. Staring into his eyes in their reflection, she was still for a moment, considering how to let him know her desire wasn’t a result of the alcohol she’d consumed. Tell him.

“You’re a good man, Negan, for making sure I’m not acting impulsively, but I knew I what I wanted long before I took those shots of tequila tonight.” Summoning all the bravery she could muster, one of her arms dropped from covering her chest. She proceeded to thread her fingers between his and then guide his hand over the lace of her thong and down to the satin fabric covering her folds, before she let go.

Oooh. Aren’t we f*cking bold? Gigi’s eyes belied her daring. Every f*cking thing about her tense posture, her inability to uncover herself fully for him, and the trace of worry in her eyes even as she moved his hand, all screamed insecurity. He f*cking adored it all, feeling the need to reward her courage.

He lightly dragged his index and middle fingers forward and back on the silky fabric. Panting with each pass, his girl dropped her head back, resting on his collarbone as her eyes fluttered closed at the sensation. He kept his caresses light and teasing, enjoying her soft mewling. Lowering his head he nuzzled the side of her face with his lips ordering, “Spread your legs for me, sweetheart.”

Excitement coursed through Gigi at his words, his tone, and the command itself, urging her to immediately comply with his request. She surveyed her stance as she spread her feet shoulder width apart on the floor, before looking back up at him for approval.

“Such a good girl for me.” Again he rewarded her, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin between the top of her thigh and her folds, as he answered, “Perfect, Gigi,” he praised. “You are f*cking perfect.”

She trembled at his approval, his praise hitting a nerve which she hadn't even realized, needed his soothing. Purring in response, her hand moved to his upper arm. She slid her fingers up under the fabric of his sleeve, then wrapped her hand around his bicep, needing to feel his skin. Needing more of him.

Continuing to tease her, Negan used his free hand to gently pull her arm away from her chest, where it was still tightly clamped across her breasts. Feeling her tense at his attempt, he urged, “Relax, Gigi,” nibbling at her earlobe and tickling the skin behind it with his tongue. She grinned at him in the mirror, chuckling at the barricade she’d created, letting him lower her arm to her side.

“f*cking beautiful,” he praised both her trust and her body. Her perfect f*cking little titt*es were calling his name, so he gently caressed one, watching her response in the mirror.

Hold on for the ride, sweetheart, ‘cause here we f*cking go! Negan lightly pinched her nipple between his index finger and thumb, while he slid his other hand behind the strip of fabric covering her folds, dipping between her lips with the intention of going right for her cl*t. He had a moment of confusion and his fingers were driven to travel back up to her mons before he reached his goal. Petting it, and the outside of her labia, he searched for confirmation of a find too f*cking good to be true.

A growl started low in his throat, rising to escape his lips in the form of a guttural, “f*ck, Gigi! You shave your puss*?” His fingers wandered as he asked, exploring his new favorite plaything as he looked down over her shoulder trying to get a peek at it. Remembering the mirror in front of them, he tapped the outside of one of her feet with his own so she'd move them closer together again, then hooked both of his index fingers in the sides of her thong and yanked it down her hips far enough so it would drop the rest of the way to the floor on its own.

“f*ckity f*ck me so f*cking hard!” he groaned at the sight of her.

Gigi giggled at him as he co*cked his head to the side, squinting as he did when he was studying something very seriously, then raising his eyebrows, he shook his head as if it were all too much to handle.

“I get it waxed. You like it?” a shy grin turned up the corners of her lips, as if she was surprised by his excitement. She had started waxing early on in her dance career, because she hated worrying about the perspiration her pubic hair created. There was nothing beautiful about a ballerina with sweat stains on the inside of her upper thighs.

Is there a man on this f*cking earth who wouldn’t like it? “f*ck, yes!” Playtime is f*cking over. The self control he would have needed to move slowly with her was gone, and he slid his fingers through her wet slit, immediately starting to circle her cl*t, groaning once more at the heat of her, and the wetness, and her whimpers. His breathing quickened at his view in the mirror of her hips canting to help increase the friction, her stance widening again of it's own accord, and of his hand moving rapidly, fingers buried between her exposed lips. He was f*cking awestruck by the wondrousness of it all.

There would be no f*cking way in hell he’d be able to manage slow with this woman. He was on fire with a need to feel her, to rut his confined erection in the crack of her ass, to taste her, toy with her, overwhelm and control her. But tonight wasn’t about what he wanted. Tonight was all about her org*sm. Because it was f*cking someday.

“You feel so f*cking good Gigi,” he murmured, increasing the pace of his ministrations, as well as the pressure on her cl*t as he kneaded and pinched her nipples rougly, making her grunt, and her body jerk from the sweet pain. The expression on her face as he watched her in the mirror was stunning, teetering between wonder and ecstasy. I f*cking did that.

“I…” was all the response Gigi could managed to force out, the effect of his magical fingers intensifying suddenly as he increased their speed. Ohmygod,ohmygod,ohmygod! The pressure building in her core, she contracted her muscles, trying to will an org*sm to happen, and happen soon. Please. Oh God, so close. I’m so close … She said a little prayer, to whom, she didn’t know. Please. Please, just let it happen.

“Are you going to come for me Gigi?” Negan cooed in her ear.

Let it happen for me this time, with him. For him.

Unable to answer him, a cry escaped her lips as the sensation of needing more, but having nowhere else to go, tortured her. So close. So close. The intensity was cresting, feeling as if it could get no higher, no more frenzied or powerful, and it needed release. Gigi felt like she was hovering right below a peak which was just out of reach. Oh God, please.

As the seconds ticked by, worry seeped into the forefront of her mind. The worry which always taunted her in these moments. He’s waiting, Gigi. You can’t take all night. The worry which pulled her back from the edge and made it harder to get close again.

Negan felt something shift in her. He’d been able to tell she was close, felt her abs contracting under his hand, heard her whimpers and cries escalate, but after he’d murmured his question in her ear, she’d started to tense, becoming less and less responsive. She had stopped making eye contact with him in the mirror, her head now turned to the side, and her cries and whimpers of pleasure were now soft sounds of desperation.

What the f*ck is happening? Watching Gigi closely, and waiting for a signal from her to stop, Negan slowed his hand between her legs, then stopped its circular motion, instead grazing his finger slowly back and forth slowly on either side of her cl*t, concentrating his attention on the sensitive skin deep within her folds, giving her a chance to relax.

He backed up a foot to the bed behind him, moving her with him. Sitting down on the edge, he positioned her between his thighs, never stopping the slide of his fingers along her cl*t. He peppered her back with soft kisses, hearing her let out a gush of breath when he placed a particularly sloppy, wet open mouthed kiss at the top of the crack of her ass. Following her lead, he mouthed across her lower back, listening to her hum in appreciation, feeling the tension in her body disappear.

He tested the waters by swiping the tip of his index finger lightly over the tip of her nub as he nipped and sucked his way up her side, grinning against her skin when he heard her gasp. Gigi joined him, chuckling in delight at his effect on her. Playing dirty, he swiped it again, laughing wickedly when her chuckle was cut off by another gasp.

Circling her cl*t again, he used a slower pace, wondering if the speed and pressure had been too much for her the first time around. sh*t! Her hips started to move against his hand, and within seconds she was gyrating in a rhythm faster than his own, prodding him to speed up. Yes, f*cking ma’am! He adjusted the pace, as per her silent request, her little kitten noises turning into whimpers and moans.

Feeling her legs trembling, Negan pulled her onto his lap, spreading her legs over the outside of his, forcing them further open by spreading his own thighs apart. Always so f*cking pliant, she let him do whatever he pleased, and he kinda f*cking liked her trust in him.

Here we go again. Oh, no. Gigi snapped out of her sensual haze as the sensation of being on the brink started building in her core. She was once again on the outside of nirvana, looking in, and she didn't want to be in that place again. “Negan, stop,” she pleaded, gently pulling at his wrist. “I can’t.”

“Can’t what, Gigi?” He didn’t know why the f*ck she kept shutting down right before she let loose. Sliding his hand out from between her thighs and up to her stomach, he ran his fingers back and forth, giving her some affection while he waited for her response.

“I can’t come for you!” she blurted out, the question he’d cooed in her ear echoing in her head. Suddenly feeling more than a little bit exposed and vulnerable with her legs spread wide, Gigi pulled them to the inside of his and moved to stand up, opening one of the dresser drawers in front of her and pulling out a sleep shirt which she slid down over her head.

Negan didn’t know what the f*ck she was talking about, but whatever it was, it didn’t sound good. He immediately got defensive, questioning, “Did you change your mind? Because if you did, that’s fine, Gigi. We can forget this night ever happened.” Standing up, he edged towards the French doors, ready to go the minute she told him he’d been a mistake.

Hearing his defensiveness, and seeing him ready to bolt, she realized she hadn’t been clear. Approaching him, she fisted the front of his tee shirt as she had in the hall at school, anchoring him in place as he refused to look at her. “Really, Negan? You could just forget about this? Because I couldn’t,” she admitted gently. “You, being here with me tonight? It’s the best thing that’s happened to me in a long, long time.”

Holy sh*t, she sounds so f*cking earnest. Finally looking into her eyes, he could see her honesty written all the f*ck over the place. He nodded at her, waiting for her to continue.

“What you just did with me? How you made me feel …” She struggled to find the right words so she kept it simple. “Sooo good, Negan. And I want more. So much more.” She was getting to the hard part, the embarrassing part, so she let go of him and walked back to sit on the end of the bed facing him, giving herself time to choose her words.

Sooo good. Nice! Negan was enthralled with everything coming out of her mouth, so for once in his life he remained silent and waited for her to go on.

“But I don’t know if you’ll want to be with me … I can’t … I’ve never …”

He watched her eyes wander from his, looking around the dimly lit room, and as they flitted from here to there, and in them he could see the shimmer of tears. Whatever she was going to share with him was obviously huge for her and he had no f*cking idea why, but he felt the need to help her through it, just as she’d made him all better with the touch of her hand when he'd been talking about Lucille.

He joined her on the edge of the bed, and with an arm under her knees and one behind her back, he swept her onto his lap. She tucked her head under his chin, and he felt her her toying with chest hair at the opening of his v-neck as he ran his fingers lightly up and down her spine. He took great pleasure in the feel of her bare ass cheeks and wet puss* on his thigh, where the leg opening of his shorts had been pushed up higher on his leg when he'd dragged her onto his lap.

Gigi sighed, hoping he could live with what she was about to share with him, because she wanted him so badly. Taking a deep breath, she finally spit out what she had to say. “It sounded like it was important to you that I org*sm. So I need to tell you now that I can’t come for you, Negan, like you asked me to. I can’t org*sm for you at all. So if that bothers you, or if it’s really that important to you, then maybe you’ll be the one who’ll want to forget this night ever happened.” The prospect was crushing for her.

Negan was both stunned and confused by her confession. He tried really f*cking hard to keep the incredulity out of his voice, keeping his tone gentle as he tried to clarify, “Are you telling me you’ve never had an org*sm?” Okay, so maybe I sounded a little f*cking shocked. I tried.

Gigi chuckled at the abject dismay in his voice. Lifting her head, she finally looked him in the eye. “No, Negan. I org*sm all the time when I’m alone,” she informed him, winking at him with her admission. “I just can’t come when I’m with someone.”

The pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together in Negan’s mind. “org*sms don’t have an on-off switch that flips out of the blue, Gigi. If you can come when you masturbat*, you can come when you’re with a partner.”

“I know, I know! I’ve heard this all before,” she insisted curtly. Suddenly agitated, she jumped off his lap to pace the room, her arms flailing gracefully as she moved. “It’s all me, Negan, I know that. I just don’t need anyone else getting aggravated with me about something I can’t help!” She stopped in front of him, her right foot unwittingly sliding forward, toes turned out.

Puzzle f*cking complete. That dead f*cking squirrely ass son of a bitch.

“Sit your ass down and calm the f*ck down,” he ordered gently, trying to hide his smile as he assured her, “I’m not aggravated with you.” Unable to help himself, he broke into laughter at her gracefully spewed anger.

“You’re laughing at me!” she accused petulantly. “Why are you laughing at me?” Exhausted from her long day, and the emotion of the conversation, the tears he'd seen in her eyes started to fall.

Walking over to her, he turned her by the shoulders, gently pushing her in the direction of the bed, patting her on the behind and then grabbing her right cheek to cop a quick feel. f*ck! “Climb your prissy ass onto the bed,” he directed, just about creaming his pants when she followed his order, giving him a mouth watering view of her soaked puss*. I need to f*ck her. Climbing on the bed on his knees next to her while she was still crawling towards the pillows, she squealed when he grabbed her by the hips and flipped her to her back, scrambling on top of her with a lecherous grin. Her hands flew to the hem of her nightshirt as she tried in vain to pull the displaced garment down to cover herself, all while she sniffled from crying.

“Don’t bother,” he stopped her hands in their tracks, pulling them over her head and holding them with one of his own, explaining, “You already gave me the best f*cking view of your sweet, bald snatch when you crawled up the bed.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes at her own oversight. "Snatch? Really, Negan?” Gigi was electrified by the feel of his body pressed to hers and her hands trapped by his larger one.

He didn’t know why he was f*cking grinning as he kissed across her jawline, and down her neck. She was a f*cking princess, and a god damn bad ass all rolled into one. Savvy in business, passionate in her personal and work life and naive in the bedroom. Gigi was a five foot two inch tall tablet of Viagra for a man who liked a challenge. He f*cking wanted her, all of her, in the biggest f*cking way. Especially her pretty, Brazilian waxed puss*. “It’s not all you, Gigi,” he reassured her. “Trust me. You just need the right guy in your corner.”

“Really?”

She was looking up at him in her way, as if he held all the answers she would ever need, gazing at him with affection, and a little f*cking reverence, making him feel worthwhile. “Yeah, really.”

Negan loved how she took him at his word, despite the lack of elaboration, and nodded at him in acceptance. She’s going to f*cking kill me with her f*cking trust. He kissed her hungrily, groaning when her back arched in her attempt to feel closer to him without using her hands, as if she couldn’t get enough of him.

Gigi could hear herself whimpering and sighing as Negan devoured her mouth so passionately. His kisses were thrilling, making her quiver with pleasure, telling her how he felt about her with his lips. They grazed hers, nipped them, sometimes soft and slow, but sometimes firm and furious. His tongue was magnificent; touching, licking, teasing and plundering, but what she’d found most interesting was how he used it sparingly, teasing her with it instead of overwhelming her. Heaven, I’m in heaven …

When he finally pulled back from her, she was breathless, her chest heaving. She struggled to open her eyes to look up at him. He had effectively kissed her into a daze.

“Psss Psss.” Negan tried to help her open her eyes with the sound, letting go of her hands and shifting his body so he was laying beside her. It was the physical loss of him which finally motivated her to open her eyes, not his cat call. She smiled up at him, and he couldn’t help but smile back.

He was tired as f*ck, and he knew her struggle to keep her eyes open was not only due to his awesome f*cking prowess. Running his fingertips up and down her belly, he kissed her softly on the lips and then peppered her face with kisses before he shifted so his chin was resting on her shoulder, his nose on her neck. He continued to run his fingers over her, perfectly content to lay quietly with her. She was asleep within minutes.

Finally taking the time to pull her sleep shirt down to her thighs, he slowly got up from the bed. Lifting the comforter where it hung down the side of the bed and folding it over her so she’d be covered, he took one more look at her before he left. I am such a f*cking puss* for this woman.

_________

Gigi started awake at noon on Saturday, wrapped in a warm, wonderful cocoon of comforter. Immediately noting Negan’s absence she was disappointed, fearing the worst. She wouldn’t blame him if he’d given up on her, though. He was obviously very, wonderfully experienced. Why would he want to get involved with some one like her? But he’d assured her, her inability to org*sm wasn’t all her fault and she really hoped he would explain the statement to her at some point.

Frowning at the idea she may never know what he meant, she flipped the covers back and hopped out of bed to go to the bathroom. Spying the Winnie the Pooh notepad normally on her nightstand, on the floor in her path, she stopped to pick it up and read the words scribbled on it. She grinned from ear to ear, doing a little celebratory dance.

Gigi,

Every day can be your someday.

I promise.

See you tonight?

Negan

Chapter 13: You Deserve A Dozen Cupcakes

Chapter Text

He savored the feel of her rapid heartbeat, resting his lips on the pulse point under her jawline, tasting the salt of her skin with a flick of his tongue. Gigi was an absolute f*cking wreck, and he adored the f*ck out of it. He’d been playing with her, worshiping her, teasing her, edging her, concentrating solely on her pleasure. Learning her so he could be her f*cking someday. Because he’d promised her. Negan didn’t make many promises, but when he did, he kept them. He had no regrets putting the words into writing on her notepad the night before, because he knew they were f*cking truth. He was determined to be the one to finally satisfy her and right her world, sexually, and he was going to enjoy every f*cking minute of it.

The Almighty Negan was going to be the man to blow her goddamn mind, the one to show her how good sex could really be, because she had no f*cking idea what she’d been missing. Sure, she could get herself off, but as any of his exes would undoubtedly tell her, nothing compared to the gift of an org*sm by Negan’s hand, or mouth or co*ck. Merry f*cking Christmas, doll! He wanted to be the one to see the look on her face when she shattered. The only one.

The drive to be her hero was surprisingly powerful, considering they had been at odds up until a few days prior. Somehow, though, even as they had battled she had wormed her way under his skin. He hoped to hell she liked it there, because now that he’d had a little f*cking taste of her, he wanted more, and all.

He kissed her hungrily, praising her once more for being so good for him, letting him take control and letting him do as he pleased, all while she looked at him in her way, like he held every f*cking answer to any question she’d ever have in life. It may have made his chest ache a little f*cking bit.

“You’re going to come for me, Gigi,” he breathed against her lips. “Just me.”

_________

Merle had mentioned Marshall and Hannah were staying the weekend at their grandparents, so Negan had set up two lounge chairs side by side on the dock while she’d taken her daily swim, filling a small cooler with some ice, beer and a bottle of wine. Having learned the hard way the time to discuss her dilemma wasn’t during a sexually charged moment, his plan had been to loosen her up with a little wine and some ‘get to know you’ conversation. He’d hoped to figure out what was causing Gigi to tense up instead of fall over the edge. She had sounded, the night before, like she’d given up on the idea of ever achieving an org*sm during foreplay or sex, and was convinced it was all her own fault. The idea her husband, or some other asshole would put the idea in her head pissed him the f*ck off. Lazy f*cks.

Gigi had been excited to find him waiting for her, draping the towel she’d used to dry herself over the empty lounge chair, stretching out and laying her head back to get some of the late day sun on her face.

He’d been wrong in assuming it would be difficult to pull information out of her. She’d been an open f*cking book after two glasses of wine, answering all his questions, without hesitation. Had he seen a bit of embarrassment on her face? Yes. Had she worded her responses in vanilla language, avoiding intimate details? Absolutely. But he’d been pleased as f*ck his girl had been so open with him.

“And they didn’t f*cking care they never satisfied you?” he’d questioned her incredulously after she’d revealed she’d only had two lovers, one in high school, and her husband. After some benign chit chat about the kids, and work, he’d led her down a path, questioning her very matter of factly, telling her he wanted to try understand why she had difficulty letting herself go.

“It’s not that they didn’t care, Negan,” she’d defended her past loves thoughtfully. “I know most of the problem is me.” She was quiet for a moment, looking out of the water as she took another sip of her Pinot Grigio. “They tried.” She’d huffed in frustration, studying her wine glass so she wouldn’t have to meet his eyes, running the tip of her index finger around the rim a few times. “Early in our relationship, Yuri would ask me what he could do to help me org*sm, and he would try. He really would, but I’d end up telling him not to worry about me, and move the focus to his pleasure.”

“Why wouldn't you want to be the focus, Gigi?” He’d made sure his tone was curious, not judgmental, throughout their conversation.

Her beautiful eyes had finally looked into his, and he had seen the embarrassment, and worry and frustration in them as she’d confessed, “Because there was too much pressure on me when he tried to satisfy me.”

“What kind of pressure?”

She had hesitated in responding, trying to find the right words, searching herself for an answer to a question no one had ever thought to ask her. “When the focus was on me,” she’d explained, “I felt like I had a certain amount of time to org*sm, or Yuri’s fun would be ruined.”

“Did he tell you that?”

She went into her own head for a bit, her eyes flitting here and there before they came back to his and she replied, “Not in so many words.”

“Explain,” he prompted her.

“He would tell me he wanted me to come, and he’d try to make it happen, but when it didn’t happen within a few minutes, I could see his eyes glaze over, like he was bored. Like he was going through the motions because he felt he should.” Frowning at the memory, she added, “I couldn’t blame him, really, but I didn’t like that feeling. I wanted the fun and the heat and the intimacy. I didn’t like the pressure.”

“Really?” Negan countered dramatically, his tone no longer gentle. “You couldn’t blame him for getting bored? How long would you let good old Yuri pound into you before you got bored?” He didn’t really want to know the answer. He was trying to make a point.

She’d looked at him quizzically, shaking her head before she smiled at the memories. “I never got bored. I always felt like I wanted more when it was over, like I needed more.”

Maybe because you weren’t f*cking satisfied? “Between the foreplay and the sex, how long did it take your husband to shoot his load?” He’d let her consider the question for a moment before he continued, “And how much time did you give yourself to org*sm before you felt it was too long, Gigi? Did you give yourself equal time?” he prodded her. “Did Yuri give you equal time before his eyes glazed over?” He hadn’t wanted to speak ill of the f*cking dead, but he needed her to see the problem didn’t all lie with her.

The woman lounging in the chair next to him had suddenly gasped lightly in understanding. Promptly sitting up, she’d pivoted on her rear end to face him, her bare feet whipping off the side of the lounger and planting themselves on the deck next to her chair with an audible slap. Her ass sitting on the very edge of the seat, Gigi’s chest had just about touched her thighs in an attempt to lean into his space on the chair next to hers. Her eyes bore into his as a range of emotions washed over her face in a matter of seconds, from relief, to upset, to delight. He’d chuckled when she opened her mouth and closed it again a few times in an attempt to respond to his question, before finally giving up. In the end, she’d simply smiled the most beautiful f*cking smile, reaching out to gently squeeze his forearm with her delicate fingers as she nodded at him in understanding.

Point. f*cking. Made.

“I don’t get bored easily, Gigi.” He’d winked at her, giving her a sh*t eating grin. “Especially when there’s puss* involved.” Her laughter was contagious, and he’d chuckled with her at his own admission.

________

Grazing his lips from her pulse point up to her mouth, he nipped at her lower lip as he dipped his fingers between her folds once more, circling her cl*t so lightly she lifted her hips in an effort to push herself more firmly into his touch. “You’re not playing fair!” she whined at him breathily as he continued his sinful torture, her head pushing back into the mattress, her eyes closing when he increased the pressure and pace for several seconds.

He leaned down to suck one of her beautiful tinies into his mouth, letting it go with a resounding pop as she buried her nails in his pecs in response. He had removed her bathing suit top minutes into their play to gain access to her succulent titt*es, and in turn she’d removed his tee shirt, telling him she wasn’t going to be the only one undressed this time around.

“What’s not fair about the way I play, sweetheart?” he cooed at her, once again slowing the speed and easing up on the intensity of his touch. He kissed her softly, enjoying the feel of her panting breath on his lips as he pulled away, and the sheen of perspiration on her skin. The tendrils of dark hair around her face were damp, and she raised a hand to push some wet strands off the back of her neck.

Gigi’s breathe hitched each time his fingertips barely skimmed over her most sensitive spot. “You can’t … keep … you can’t … Negan …" she protested in the rhythm of his strokes. Her eyes fluttered open to find him, her brow furrowed in discontent.

“I can’t what?” he taunted her as he dipped his middle finger inside her, curling it forward to stroke her g spot. She simply keened in response.

He continued to edge her, listening and watching for signs she was reaching her peak, hyper vigilant for any indication she was shutting down. It didn’t take long for him to remember she contracted her abs when she was getting close, and the canting of her hips would stop, as if she couldn’t concentrate on her motion and the intense pleasure at the same time. Her moans and cries would turn into to whimpers, the sound of which made his f*cking dick ache. Being the clever asshole he was, each time he felt his girl starting to work into a frenzy, he eased his ministrations, loving the f*ck out of how she fussed at him about it.

‘Noooo …’

‘just so wrong …’

‘ Why, Negan?’

“Maybe we should stop Gigi, since this is so frustrating for you?” He had edged her so many times he’d lost count, and his girl was beside herself as he suddenly switched to a lazier pace.

She was almost beyond words, her head rolling from side to side, her eyes closing once more as he changed things up, using his index and middle finger to lightly caress the sensitive nerves on either side of her cl*t. The corners of her mouth curled up in a tiny f*cking grin as she chuckled lowly, her head turning to him, eyes opening to search for his gaze.

“You are wicked,” she finally managed to murmur, raising her head off the bed, pulling him to her by the hair so she could kiss him softly. This man was driving her crazy with his never-ending tease. She didn’t know how long they had been fooling around, but she planned to kneel down to worship at the altar she would construct in his honor when he was through with her, and she would say a prayer of thanks for his long, talented fingers, his mouth and his infinite patience.

“We've got all f*cking night Gigi, so just relax,” he had instructed her early on, along with gently insisting, “Just trust me. I’ll get you there. Whether it’s tonight or next week, it’s all f*cking good with me.” His lack of expectation was exactly what she’d needed, and for some inexplainable reason, she did trust him. He hadn’t disappointed her. He had been fully engaged the entire time he’d toyed with her, and seemed to derive great pleasure from pampering her. She’d caught him several times watching her expression closely as his fingers introduced her to another new magical sensation, and he would grin, utterly pleased with himself over her response.

She had quickly figured out his game, and was trying her best not to think about the time, keeping herself relaxed, letting him drive her insane, pushing her higher and higher and then suddenly dropping her back. When his fingers had started their divine play inside her swim trunks, she had been worried about whether she would freeze when she got close to an org*sm, but he had brilliantly prevented her from worrying about it by pulling her back from the edge before her anxiety could start.

She had to admit he had edged her for so long, she was literally beside herself, having immersed herself so deeply in the sensations, the timing of each drop before she peaked heightening her need to reach it. She was so very, very close, and her core was aching almost painfully with a need for release, making her hopeful she might actually come for him if he’d stop slowing his pace every other minute.

“You think this is f*cking wicked?” he responded after he ran his tongue along her lower lip, sharing her breath. “I’ll show you wicked, sweetheart.” Shifting to kneel on the bed beside her, he twisted his fingers in the crotch of her damp swim trunks and pulled the garment off in one swift motion before laying on his stomach between her spread legs.

“Well, hello there!” Negan greeted her puss* exuberantly, wrinkling his nose and giving it a little shiver. Sliding his hands under her knees, he pushed them up towards her chest to get a better view of her. “f*ck, f*cking, f*ckity-f*ck me! Goddamn, Gigi!” Pretty and pink, hot, wet and inviting, her puss* called to him, a seductive little ‘eat me, Negan’ he couldn’t f*cking ignore.

Pushing her knees until they could go no further, he then spread them wide f*cking open, grateful for her flexibility, which afforded him a downright magical f*cking view of her cl*t and the pucker of her ass. f*ck, I need a f*cking go at that tight hole! The likelihood the tight little muscle had never been intimately touched was high, and it was a heady thought for him. It’ll be f*cking touched soon enough. Touched and licked, fingered and f*cked if he had his way, and he would sooo f*cking get his way.

Running his hands down the back of her thighs, Negan relished the feel of them trembling beneath his fingertips as Gigi waited impatiently for him to get back to work. He mouthed her smooth mons, sucking at her lips, barely poking his tongue out to taste the delicate flesh between them. Sweet f*cking puss*. With each pass she writhed, as he groaned and cursed.

His raging hard on twitched at her response. He tried to ignore the little bastard’s insistence it wanted to come out to play, but it was becoming more and more difficult to do.

He dove back in to brush back and forth across his girl’s cl*t several times with maximum pressure, causing her to squirm and moan. f*ck, yes! His lust rendering him incapable of easing her into things, Negan swept his tongue from the pucker of her ass up to her cl*t, growling at the thrill of finally getting a big f*cking taste of her and the satisfaction he felt at the involuntary buck of her hips and frantic cry.

“Negan, you …” Oh, my god! He … Oh my god! He licked me there? Seriously, Gigi, you can’t even talk dirty in your own mind? Use your big girl words. Ass. He licked your ass ... Oh my god, he licked my ass! Her thoughts were interrupted by another pass of his tongue from one opening to the other, making her shudder from head to toe. He’s so baaaad! But I think I like it.

Negan chuckled between her legs in response to her shaking. “Negan!” she wailed, making the party in his shorts kick into high gear, and like the horny f*ck he was, he pushed his hips down into the mattress, seeking out some sort of friction on his co*ck, because at that point, any f*cking sort would do.

Gigi was crying out with every swipe across her cl*t, the pressure of his tongue perfect, fueling a sense of urgency that wouldn’t be denied, and feeding her need for release. She gasped when something slick and wet swept across her pucker with the slightest amount of pressure, while his tongue was still laving her folds. His finger? No, his thumb! The unfamiliar feeling both shocked and inflamed her senses, inciting a small amount of panic. “Negan!?” she howled, not wanting him to stop, but needing some reassurance. Is he going to try to push it in there? While she loved what he was doing, she wasn’t ready for him to go further.

Negan heard the slight desperation in her cry, and he backed the pad of his thumb off her luscious little hole, lifting his head long enough to plead with her softly, “Trust me, Gigi?” Even he wasn’t dick enough to try to conquer her ass this soon. Next time.

Not even a second went by before her beautiful eyes smiled at him and she nodded frantically, her hand reaching down to cup his cheek, stroking it with her thumb. He turned to nuzzle her palm, kissing it tenderly, inspired by a curious need to thank her for her trust because it felt like a f*cking gift coming from his magnificent girl. Negan, you puss*fied, sorry ass, f*ck.

Not able to wait one more second for the man between her thighs to put his skilled tongue back to work, she threaded her fingers in the hair at the top of his head and yanked his nose back to her mons, smiling at his muffled, “f*ck, Gigi!” before he dove back into his work with zeal. The few second lapse in his ministrations had once again given her the sensation she’d been unwittingly pushed away from the edge of heaven, yet when his tongue skimmed through her folds once more, the pleasure was more intense than ever, making her whimper and writhe.

Negan felt her abs contract under his fingertips, where they rested on her belly and she whimpered once, and then a second and a third time, letting him know she was close. Keeping a consistent pressure and pace on her cl*t, he once again pressed the wet pad of his thumb gently against her rim, massaging it as a means of sensual distraction. He could sense she was almost there, and he didn’t want her to tense up. Her response was all the validation he’d ever f*cking need in life, her fingers pulling his hair painfully as she moaned, pushing her puss* and her ass towards the sources of her pleasure, seeking out more.

“No, no, no! Don’t stop!” Gigi cried loudly when he slowed his tongue once more, pulling his thumb away for three long, excruciating beats before he restarted his efforts on both fronts, causing her to moan loudly in both the relief and ecstasy.

The frustrated cry which sprang from her lips had him fighting to keep from rutting like a hound dog into the mattress in search of his own relief. He was in overdrive, panting with her, perspiration at his hairline and heart pounding at the taste, sight and sound of her. She began a frenzied babbling, making him grin even as his lips were buried in her folds.

“Don’t ... Negan …" Gigi pleaded when he slowed, and just when she thought the ache and the pulsing need would ruin her, he resumed with even greater intensity. “Please … please, please …" She was dismayed his thumb had disappeared, and she found herself begging him to put it back, far beyond feeling shocked by her shameless desire for the new sensation she loved so much. “Need it, Negan, I need … I …" her rambling was frenetic. “Oh, god!” she cried as he started to suck on her cl*t.

“What do you need, Gigi?” he cooed once more. The lull in action while he questioned her provoked a frustrated sob which Negan felt in his gut, driving him to fulfill any f*cking wish her heart desired.

Her chest heaved as he wrapped his lips around her cl*t again and sucked a few times before replacing his mouth with his fingers, turning his hand sideways and rubbing them quickly up and down on her nub. Her moans and whimpers escalated dramatically before she managed to answer, “Your thumb … please …"

“Oh, my dirty girl!” he cajoled, ecstatic to hear his prissy girl liked a little ass play. Increasing the pace of his fingers, he pressed his thumb to her rim once more, circling it expertly. After only a few seconds, her writhing and canting suddenly stalled, breathy whimpers falling from her lips before her hips bucked, and she fell apart beneath him.

“Negan!” Gigi wailed as she came, her hands ineffectively scrambling for purchase on his bare shoulders, trying to pull him up to her, needing him closer as she imploded in the most magnificent way.

Negan watched in fascination as her org*sm rolled through her in waves while he continued to massage her cl*t. Suddenly understanding she was beckoning him, he crawled on top of her, caging her in under his body, pushing her damp hair back off her forehead. Kissing her gently he murmured, “My beautiful, amazing, girl. You did good. So good for me,” he praised her. She purred at his words, something he’d noticed the night before as well when he’d encouraged her. My girl has a little kink for daddy’s praise.

Gigi wanted to weep with gratitude, but it wasn’t the time for tears. She’d had enough tears in the last few months to last a lifetime, and thanks to him, there was cause for nothing but happiness. She felt satiated and safe underneath him as she came down from her incredible high.

Despite the very satisfying earth shattering org*sm he’d given her, Gigi was on fire, physically aching for the man resting on top of her. She felt a bit vulnerable, having shared something with him which she had never shared with anyone else. It connected her to him in the most intimate way, but she needed to watch him come apart for her, too, so she could see the look on his face, feel his org*sm as he pulsed inside her. More than anything, she wanted to please him. She wondered if and how a control freak like Negan would handle being vulnerable.

He was grinning at her as he kissed her gently, wrapping his arms around her back, cradling her as he ran his lips across her cheeks and then kissed the outside corners of her eyes as she tried unsuccessfully to pull herself together. Gigi liked the gentle side he had shown her in the last few days. It was one of the things which had allowed her to realize he was a lot of infuriating bluster on the surface, but she was sporting a serious crush on the gentler man underneath. He had shown his protective nature, and he seemed to take great pleasure in making sure she was satisfied, and the idea of both were very appealing.

She was grateful for his affection as she calmed. He had played with her for such a long time, both physically and emotionally. It had been the best kind of play, but it had been exhausting for her in both respects. She hummed in appreciation, letting him know she liked his attention. Running her fingers through his hair, she nipped at his jaw line murmuring, “Can I make love to you, Negan? I need to feel you inside me.”

Negan didn’t know why her request caught him off guard. He pulled back to look in her eyes, considering what she was asking, the veneration in her tone both flattering and unsettling for him. It wasn’t what she was asking. It was how she was asking it, all f*cking flowery and romantic. He would have been more comfortable with ‘Can I f*ck you Negan?’

Taking his silence as a lack of interest, or possible upset she was trying to call the shots, Gigi quickly tried to back pedal. “It’s okay if you don’t want ... I guess I just assumed … which I shouldn’t have done.” She knew she was rambling, so she tried to be succinct as she held his gaze, “Just forget I asked. I know I’m being selfish when I should be considering what you might want.”

Being selfish? Is she f*cking kidding me? Like I wouldn’t want to bury my dick in her?

When Negan continued to silently study her with a furrowed brow, Gigi feared the worst. Perhaps he wasn’t interested in taking things to a more intimate level. Or worse, maybe he just considered her org*sm a pet project, a notch on his belt. She took a deep breath, looking away from him so she didn’t embarrass herself further. She pushed at his shoulders gently so she could move out from under him, saddened and embarrassed.

Feeling his girl suddenly try to pull away from him startled Negan out of his thoughts, and he realized she’d taken his silence as rejection. “How the f*ck could I not want that, Gigi?” he reassured her softly, unable to repeat her flowery request. Pulling her more tightly against him, he nipped at the corner of her mouth, trying to tempt her to turn back to him. “If that’s your idea of being selfish, I can definitely f*cking live with selfish,” he teased her. Wrapping his long fingers around the back of her head, he turned her to face him, forcing her to look at him, upset still evident in her eyes even as she smiled at his words.

Not the time for jokes, sh*thead. He was f*cking up this moment, royally. ‘Just tell me what you’re thinking, Negan,’ Lucille had always prodded him when she would get frustrated he wasn’t communicating with her. ‘Then at least I’ll have something to work with.’

Give her something to f*cking work with. Negan was quiet for a moment, running his lips back and forth across her cheek bone before he admitted, “You just caught me off guard, Gigi. No one’s ever asked me that before, in those words.” He shrugged, at a loss for words. Spit it out, asshole. “It sounded kinda f*cking nice." When she smiled her beautiful smile at him, he knew he’d made it better.

His lips met hers, immediately eliminating her worries, and Gigi wrapped her legs around his lower back, both of her hands moving to the sides of his face to anchor him to her. Her tongue teased his lips, inviting his to come out and play, and their kiss became more heated as his hands began roaming over her body.

Gigi felt him hurriedly reaching for his belt, and she pushed his hand away, feeling the need to take care of him. Heeding her wish, Negan rested on his elbows over her, raising his hips off of hers slightly to make her job easier. She kept her thighs wrapped around his hips while she felt her way to unclasping his belt, then unbuttoned and unzipped his shorts.

Her hands were shaking with nervousness, but she liked the feeling of being in control for the moment. She wanted to make Negan feel as good as he’d made her feel, if it was even possible. For the first time in their short, intimate history, she felt confident about what she wanted to do.

She slid his shorts and underwear down his hips as far as she could reach before she clamped her knees on the outside of his waist and rolled them so he was on his back. Removing the last of his clothing she crawled up his body, straddling the top of his thighs.

“You wanna f*ck me, Gigi?” Negan questioned her lowly, enamored of the look and feel of her wet puss* and toned body sitting on him. He ran his hands up and down her thighs, loving the feel of the firm muscles under his fingertips.

“I do,” she leaned forward to hover over him on her knees, kissing him.

“Do we need a condom?” he asked in a moment of sanity, despite the fact she’d started stroking his co*ck between them. If they needed one, he hoped to hell she had one, or he’d have to run to his place to grab the box he’d hidden in an old duffel bag in the closet when he’d been sleeping with Rosita.

“Birth control implant,” she informed him, letting go of his co*ck long enough to point at the inside of her upper arm. “And I’ve only had one partner for eons, so no STD’s.”

“I’m clean,” he told her. He’d had himself checked after he’d slept with Rosita, wanting to make sure he wouldn’t expose Lucille’s weak immune system to an infection she wouldn’t be able to fight.

Gigi responded by moving the head of his penis to her entrance and wasting no time sliding down on it.

“Fuuuuuck me. I f*cking love your kind of selfish, Gigi.”

They both moaned when Negan topped out inside her, his hands reaching to grab her hips so he could guide her.

“Uh, uh,” she admonished him. “I’m in charge now.”

“Yes, f*cking ma’am!” Negan lightened his grip on her, caressing her hip bones softly. “Better?”

“I think they’d be better here,” she took her hands in his, moving them to her breasts, where he immediately pinched and rolled her nipples between his index finger and thumb.

“Have I mentioned I really like the way you think, Gigi?”

She laughed, leaning down to kiss him, quickly realizing their difference in height would only allow her to kiss him when the head of his co*ck was at her entrance. Once she slid down on him, their lips had to part if she wanted to take all of him in. She kissed him languidly, bobbing on him shallowly.

“f*ck, Gigi, you’re f*cking killing me,” he murmured against her lips.

“That’s my intention,” she responded, suddenly breaking their kiss and riding his entire length several times. She kissed him once more, massaging only a few inches of him, before she pulled almost all the way off and then slid down until he was fully buried inside her.

Gigi had spent her career taking direction, learning dance steps in one or two run throughs, and then repeating what she’d learned without straying from the steps she’d been taught.

The football coach didn’t even realize he’d taught her a whole new kind of dance when he’d played with her. She was going to use her new found technique in the hopes she could heighten his arousal, and give him the same kind of mind-blowing org*sm he’d given her. She once again started to ride him, sitting up a bit and squirming to position herself so she could take him as deeply as possible inside her.

“Goddamn, Gigi. You feel so f*cking good on my dick,” he confessed, groaning when she slid up and down his full length a few times. “f*ck. You keep that up and I’m not gonna last long, darlin’,” he warned her. It became clear to him quickly, she wasn’t the only one he’d been teasing as he’d sought out her org*sm. He was so close to shooting his load it was almost f*cking embarrassing.

“Oh, yeah?” she taunted him, leaning down over him again to nibble and kiss across his collarbone. “Not if I have anything to say about it,” she informed him as she began riding him shallowly once more. “I can make sure you don’t come for quite a while, Negan,” she advised him, rocking as far forward as she could so she could tease the head of his co*ck again, nibbling on his ear lobe before whispering in it, “I learned from the master.”

“You wouldn’t f*cking dare!” He grunted and cursed as Gigi moved up and down on his length.

“Watch me!”

_________

“f*ck, f*ck, f*ck, f*ck!” Negan had to admit she was playing him absolutely f*cking perfectly, blatantly ignoring him when he begged her for relief. “Come, on, Gigi,” he pressed her as she sat perfectly still on top of him, his co*ck buried inside her. “Now you’re just f*cking torturing me.”

Torture him she definitely had, enjoying his cursing, swearing, bucking and groaning. “Why? Do you need to come, Negan?”

“You know the f*cking answer to that question, Gigi.”

“I do, since you’ve mentioned it a dozen times,” she goaded him in response.

He glared indignantly at her, causing her to huff in amusem*nt. Gripping his hips with her knees, she rolled them so he was on top. “Better?” She wrapped her legs around his back, pulling him down to her for a kiss.

Sliding in and out of her a few times he answered breathily, “Maybe. Let me double check.” Giving her a mile wide grin, he began to move in a steady rhythm, snapping his hips each time he slid deep inside her, causing her to cry out with each thrust. “Oh, yeah. Much f*cking better.”

“Oh, god, Negan, I love that!”

He groaned at the sensation as she threw her head back with a moan. Goddamn, he needed to come, but knowing she loved what he was doing, he wanted to give her more. What the f*ck is wrong with me? Taking a moment to pull her legs up so the back of her calves rested on his shoulders, he bent her in half as he’d been longing to do, knowing he would be able to plunge even deeper inside her, her puss* tilted up to him at just the right angle for him to slam his dick home. “f*ck. f*ck. f*ck!” he rumbled with each stroke. “FUUUUUUUUCK!”

His girl smiled at his expletives, before a particularly deep thrust took her breath away. The sound of her, and the way her head snapped back into the bed were addictive, so he f*cked her deep and hard again, and again and again, loving how he was leaving her breathless.

Gigi was in heaven, never having had sex so raw and passionate. Negan seemed to be fueled by pure lust, driving into her harder and faster, and she couldn’t help taking pride in the fact what she’d done to him had pushed him to his current state. He made her feel sexy, for the first time in years.

Suddenly pulling out of her, Negan grabbed ahold of her hips and flipped her onto her stomach. Circling her waist with his fingers, he yanked her up onto her knees and elbows and thrust back inside her, continuing to pound her at an even more brutal pace, his swearing becoming louder and raunchier, the harder he slammed into her.

Gigi could have easily become overwhelmed at the force of this strokes, but his precision was unfaltering, and she had no fear he’d hurt her. On the contrary, each crash of his hips into her glutes, and every time he thrust into her cervix made her quiver with pleasure.

“f*ck, Gigi! f*ck! You’re f*cking taking it like a champ!” he growled. “You like the feel of my co*ck inside you now, sweetheart?”

She nodded frantically, dropping her head onto her forearms, unable to speak as he continued to take her breath away.

“Come on, Gigi,” he fisted the hair on the back of her head, gently pulling it back as far as he could, wanting to hear her words. “Tell me!” he insisted, “You like the feel of my co*ck f*cking your puss*?”

His question thrilled her, the filthy words sending a jolt through her as she tried to to answer him. “Yes!” she finally managed to groan.

“You can do better, Gigi,” he snarled behind her, yanking her hair lightly to prod her for more. Wrapping the fingers of his free hand over her shoulder, he used it to pull her to back to him as he slammed into her, causing her to yelp and whimper with each thrust. “Tell me!” he demanded.

“Oh, God, Negan, I …” she was interrupted by her own grunt, unable to finish her sentence.

“Tell me!” he roared. He needed to hear her say it. f*cking need it.

“I love the feel of you! Feels so good, Negan. So good inside me!”

Negan exploded at her words, pushing his hips into her a few more times before he dropped forward over her back, burying his teeth in her shoulder as he came long and hard, laughing maniacally at the force of his org*sm. “My awesome f*cking girl!” he kneaded her belly with the fingers of one hand as he released his grip on her hair, lazily massaging her scalp as he continued to pulse inside her. "I love how good you are for me," he praised, running his finger tips along her sides as he kissed the back of her neck.

Negan was disappointed when he started to feel his co*ck start to deflate, sorry to end their physical connection, knowing he needed another go at her as soon as f*cking possible. Pushing on her hip to roll her onto her side, he laid face to face with her, pulling her as close as he could. Studying her as she gazed at him, he found contentment and affection in her expression, and he ran his fingers through her hair, pushing it off her face. “So f*cking beautiful.”

“I was thinking the same thing about you,” Gigi confessed with a smile, kissing him softly before she pressed her lips to his Adam’s apple, resting them there.

She’s killing me with the romantic, flowery, girly sh*t.

“I wish I had one of those chocolate cupcakes from the luncheon,” she murmured against his skin, suddenly ravenous. She hadn’t put anything in her stomach other than a hardboiled egg and a few glasses of wine since she’d gotten out of bed at noon.

“You deserve a dozen chocolate cupcakes after that f*cking workout, doll.”

“You have such a way with words, Negan,” she admonished him teasingly.

“I know it’s probably hard to believe, but I’m known for being an over the top romantic.”

“Really?" she quizzed him, rolling away from him to sit up on the bed.

“f*ck, no,” he countered with a chuckle. “Where are you going?” Negan pawed at her lazily in an effort to pull her back to him.

“Going to get us a warm wash cloth to do some spot cleaning.” She reached back to run her fingers across his wet groin as a means of explanation. Padding across the carpet into the bathroom, she closed the door so she could pee in private. Too soon for an open bathroom door, she thought to herself, smiling at the thought there could be a time when she would pee while he took a shower. Relationship goals. Talk about romantic, Gigi. She emptied her bladder, then wet a washcloth at the sink, putting a little soap on it before she swiped it between her legs to clean herself off.

Looking at her bedraggled self in the mirror, she ran her fingers through her hair, smirking at the site of herself. She looked like she’d been put through the ringer. Tossing the wet rag in the hamper, she grabbed a clean one from under the sink and wet it to use to wipe Negan down. When she made her way back into the bedroom, she was surprised when she found he was no longer in the room.

Setting the washcloth on the glass surface of her nightstand, she made her way to the kitchen, wondering if he had gone looking for a drink or snack. Not finding him there, she was stymied about where he might have disappeared to as she hunted through the fridge, finding a bottle of water and a container of blueberries. She also pulled out some party slices of cheddar cheese. She grabbed some honey mustard and crackers as well so they could have a picnic on the bed, piling some of each on a dinner plate. She made her way back to her bedroom, finding Negan coming through one of the French doors from the deck in only his shorts, a large pink bakery box in his hands.

“Got you something,” he smiled, walking over to her as he curled his fingers over the edge of the cardboard, pulling the lid up so she could see what was inside.

“Cupcakes?” she questioned excitedly, practically diving into the box to smell the confections. “There were leftovers?”

“Five to be exact,” he informed her, “And they’re all chocolate.”

“You left your cozy spot on the bed to go get these for me?” she was touched he’d run over to his house for her treat. “You’re too good to me.”

“Yes, I f*cking am!” he concurred, dragging his index finger through some icing and holding it to her lips. She immediately sucked the digit into her mouth, groaning at the taste, her tongue work and suction on his finger making him moan in turn.

She giggled at his response, making quick work of the creamy sweetness before picking one out of the box and peeling the paper wrapper back.

“Are you sure, Gigi?” Negan’s tone was light, his expression serious as he teased, “There are an awful lot of carbs in there.”

“I’m absolutely sure.”

For the first time since Gigi was a teenager she ate a whole cupcake. Then she ate two more. Because she'd been good for Negan, and she deserved them.

Chapter 14: If You Loved Me You'd Wear Purple

Chapter Text

“Hwuh!”

“Hwuh!”

“Hwuh!”

“Hwuh!”

Negan woke at seven in the morning in Gigi’s bed, to the faint sound of rhythmic grunting. What the f*ck? He knew even before he even rolled over she wasn’t next to him, because the far off, guttural noise was definitely coming from his dancer, reminding him of the sounds she’d made when he’d pounded her the night before. His already half hard co*ck took interest in the memory, and he reached down to stroke himself a few times, making the little bastard stand at full attention.

“Hwuh!”

“Hwuh!”

He smirked as he lay in her bed, her scent surrounding him as played out the previous night in his mind, pleased as all f*cking get out about every f*cking bit of it. Not only had he made her come all the f*ck undone for him in one go round, he’d also found out his girl was no slouch in the sack. He’d assumed, with her inexperience and her hang ups, he’d have to coddle her for a while and spend some time pulling her out of her shell. She’d proven him so f*cking wrong. Even though he had edged her to prevent her from freezing up, his girl had figured out she could also use edging to heighten his pleasure, and she’d jumped in feet first to try it. He gave her an A+++ for both effort and her technique, and he’d told her as much afterwards.

His good f*cking girl. He kind of dug how she liked his praise. He’d asked her about it outright as they had eaten the last of the cupcakes the night before. “You like being my good girl, huh?” he had questioned her with a nod, because he’d already known her answer. He had been curious to know if it was something she and her husband had played at, or whether it was new for her.

“I do!” she had exclaimed, looking both pleasantly surprised and a little scandalized at her own admission, her brow furrowed even as she grinned at the idea. “I was thinking about it this morning,” she’d shared, her hands moving animatedly as she'd spoken, “trying to figure out why I like it so much!”

He'd chuckled at how she was genuinely but pleasantly stymied by her kink, and she joined in, laughing at herself. “What did you come up with?” he'd prodded her.

Gigi’s demeanor had changed to one more serious, as she’d started, “You know I’m very Type A, so I have to do everything perfectly.”

“Really? I’d never f*cking guess that.”

“Shush!” she’d reprimanded with a laugh, smacking the back of his hand lightly as he’d taken a bite out of his cupcake, deliberately pushing it into his lips and nose to decorate them with chocolate. She gave him a co*cky grin as she confessed, “I think the praise kink has to do with my career. Ballet has a finicky audience. Living and working in that world required me to be perfect all of the time. Look perfect, dance perfectly, act perfectly while in the public eye. It was all right up my Type A alley. It took me a while, though, to realize being a perfectionist didn’t garner the type of appreciation I really needed.”

As she’d talked, she run the pads of her fingertips over Negan’s nose and upper lip to remove the frosting and then putting it in her mouth, or his, to dispose of it. He’d remained still, enjoying her delicate touch.

“When I was dancing, people always complimented me on what they could see on the surface,” she continued. “All of the things that looked perfect. My perfect make up, my perfect outfit, my perfect marriage. I appreciated the compliments, of course, but they left me questioning whether anything below the surface was worthwhile.”

All this to explain a little kink? Negan grinned to himself at her need to over analyze her behavior.

“What? What’s wrong?” she questioned his smirk.

“Nothing. Go ahead. I’m listening.” Surprisingly, he was.

Gigi looked at him skeptically for a moment before she continued. “I did love it when someone appreciated my dancing, because they were complimenting my hard work. Dancing perfectly was very personal for me. The praise which meant the most to me, though, was when people would tell me my dancing made them happy,” she remembered. “A woman told me once she had waited months to see me perform. She said she’d actually gotten giddy when I danced onto the stage, and my performance had made her heart sing. It was the best compliment I’ve ever received.”

Quiet for a moment while she’d continued to clean the icing off his face, she had finally moved closer and licked his upper lip to get the last of the frosting off, kissing him with a hum of enjoyment when she finished the task. “That woman told me I made her happy. That all the work I did to dance perfectly made her heart sing.

“You praise me because something I’ve done pleases you, in a very intimate way. I don’t know how to play perfect in the bedroom, Negan,” she related. “Last night, and just now? That’s the real me. As real as it gets. When you praise me, you’re telling the real me, I’m making you happy. It might seem trite, but it’s not to me,” Gigi had confessed, her eyes smiling at him, “because I want to make your heart sing.”

Holy f*ck. She was so f*cking honest with him for such an early stage in their very new, I haven’t figured out what the f*ck this thing is yet, relationship. Normally a person tried not to show too much of their hand this early in the game, for fear of having their cards thrown back in their face. He hadn’t figured out yet whether she was too naive to protect herself or whether she just didn’t have it in her to be anything other than completely honest with him. He suspected it was a little of both.

_________

“Hwuh!”

“Hwuh!”

His curiosity surprisingly winning out over his need to jerk off, the coach threw the covers off himself and swung his legs over the side of the bed, his eyes scanning the floor for his shorts. He grabbed them on the way to the head, taking a piss with his eyes half closed. Too f*cking early to be up on a Sunday.

Deciding Gigi wouldn’t mind if he borrowed her toothbrush, he brushed his teeth quickly to get the taste of stale beer off his breath. Sliding his shorts up his legs, he fondled his co*ck on the outside of the fabric as he walked down the hall because it simply f*cking needed to be done, trying to follow the sound of his girl’s voice. He already knew his way around her house, not only because he and Lucille had frequented the place when Dale was alive, but also because the house was an exact duplicate of his own.

Negan looked around as he moved, noting Gigi hadn’t taken the time yet to paint or decorate. While Dale had renovated the bathrooms and kitchen a few years before his wife passed away, the rest of the decor was out of date. He was surprised the ballet star hadn’t gutted it already to update the whole thing and make it her own. He had seen contractor’s trucks and a dumpster in her driveway right after she’d settled on the home, and he wondered what the hell the workers had been doing for the two weeks they’d been there, besides getting rid of Dale and Irma’s belongings, which had been left in the house since there was no family to claim them.

Realizing Gigi’s voice was carrying up from the basem*nt, he walked down a few steps, stopping halfway down when he caught sight of her. She had a high grade home gym on one side of the basem*nt, which had several stations around its perimeter, as well as an elliptical machine and a tread mill. She had replaced the seventies throwback olive colored carpet with hardwood, which was shined to a high gloss. The smoothed surface would seem strange, but on the other end of the room, opposite the sliding glass doors which lead out to the first floor patio and backyard, she’d installed thirty feet of floor to ceiling mirror, a ballet barre running through it horizontally. There was a sound system in one corner, speakers installed strategically around the large room. He was amused the outdated living area and bedrooms upstairs were untouched, yet she had a brand new state of the art gym and a dance studio in her basem*nt.

He was also amused to find his dancer hanging upside down at one of the stations of the home gym. She had padded cuffs buckled to her ankles, a hook protruding from the back of each which had been placed over a pull up bar, and she was hanging like a f*cking bat, her arms crossed over her chest as she did inverted sit ups. She was wearing some tiny purple spandex shorts and a sports bra, her hair in tight bun on the top of her head, her abs looking f*cking amazing. I need to lick them.

Sitting his ass down in the middle of the staircase where she wouldn’t see him unless she contorted herself strangely, he watched her, seriously f*cking awed by her physical strength. She was hugging a ten pound weight to her chest as she moved up and down, the light weight of the metal perfect for someone who wanted to tone, without bulking up. She’d done several reps of ten since he’d awakened, not counting the time he’d been in the bathroom. Her grunts had gotten louder the longer she worked out, letting him know they were becoming more taxing for her with each set of reps. Still, fifty or more inverted sit ups was pretty impressive, especially with added weight. Sooo want to f*ck her.

She stopped suddenly, stretching her arms down towards the floor, gently placing the weight on the hardwood before she moved her fingers to the side of her head, saying, “Hello?” Negan realized she must have a Bluetooth device in her ear. “No, it’s fine that you had to call me back. Really. Did you get everything straightened out?” she questioned whoever was on the other end of the call, her tone light and happy. “Now is perfect! I have plenty of time to talk. I have another fifteen minutes of my workout to do. Yes I’m being careful with my knee, Misha.”

Huh. Does Misha always call her at seven in the f*cking morning?

As she talked, she grabbed the pull up bar with her hands and raised her ass several inches to remove the hooks on the back of her ankles from the bar above her. Swinging her legs down, she dropped to stand on the floor, then moved to the next station to sit on the padded seat to work her legs.

“I forgot to tell you, I found the perfect gown for next weekend,” she informed the man on the other end of the call as she unbuckled the hooks on her ankles and set them aside. “It’s black,” she answered him, then listened to his response.

“I know you like me in purple, but I think this event calls for black,” she laughed shaking her head as she moved the pin in the weight machine to a lighter setting while her friend responded. “Of course I sent it up to Maya to alter,” she answered another question. “I know she’ll do it right. She said she can send it back by courier and it’ll arrive on Wednesday.”

A gown? What kind of f*cking event?

After listening for a minute she complained, “Nooo, I don’t want to meet you there. I don’t want to ride in the limo all by myself!” You can’t come back here after you check in with the event coordinator to ride with me?” Gigi pressed him. “No, I won’t be ready to leave with you at noon to meet with her. The hair and makeup gals are coming at one. I won’t be beautiful until three or four … Aww. You are so sweet. Shoot, I lost track of my count.” She relaxed her legs, the stack of weights lowering into place as she listened to his response, before cajoling, “If you loved me you would come back here after you meet with the coordinator, and ride with me to the ceremony. If you don’t I’ll have to walk the red carpet all alone.”

She’s going to walk the red carpet? She and her friend were discussing a world which was foreign to Negan.

“If I loved you I would wear purple?” she repeated the man’s words. “Come on, Misha!” She shook her head, laughing as she started her rep over, pushing the foot plate to raise the weights once more. “It’s a little too late to find a new dress now, let alone a purple one. Trust me, you’ll love the one I chose. Hey, what time did you say your flight is coming into Reagan on Friday?”

His girl only did three reps of ten of the leg presses, stopping in between each ten to massage the back and side of her knee. Why the hell is she stressing that injury? She didn’t move to the station to work her arms, instead staying where she was and massaging her knee further as she listened to Mikhail’s response.

Getting up from his step, Negan made his way to her, eating up the smile she gave him when she first caught sight of him. She reached out with one hand as he approached, wiggling her fingers. As soon as he was close enough, she gently tugged at his arm so he would bend down to her, and pressed her lips softly to his.

f*ck you Misha.

Squatting down next to her bum knee, he wrapped his hand around her ankle, pulling and pushing her leg to bend and straighten it as he used the fingers of his other hand to press different points on her knee. He was glad he couldn’t feel any swelling, but when he pressed on the side and back of the joint, her leg jerked and she hissed lightly from pain.

“You’re done working out,” he murmured firmly, cognizant of the fact she was trying to listen to her friend on the phone.

His good girl nodded at him, frowning as she probed the painful spot with her own fingers before she brought her hand to his face, running the back of her knuckles over his cheek lightly with a gentle smile. “No. Marshall and Hannah are at my mom and dad’s for the weekend. It’s Negan. Yes, we are getting along better now. Much better,” she assured him, winking at Negan about the hidden meaning behind her words. “He’s trained in sports medicine, so he just poked and prodded my knee and informed me I’m done working out ...yes he is a smart man … yes I will go put ice and heat on it.”

Gigi immediately stood up from her seat in compliance, so used to taking orders in both dance and life from her choreographer. Pulling at Negan’s arm, she motioned for him to go upstairs with her. “Yes, Misha. I have been thinking about when I’ll have the surgery… and yes I know the dance world needs me.”

When they reached the kitchen, she ended the call, telling her friend she’d see him when she got home from work on Friday since he would get to the house before she would, and he could just throw his things in guest room, last door on the left in the hallway.

He’s f*cking staying with her. That’s bullsh*t.

Tapping the red phone icon on her call screen, she turned to Negan and pulled him to her. Putting her arms around his neck she jumped up, wrapping her legs around his hips and kissing him deeply. His hands gripping her ass firmly, they enjoyed a mini make out session before she pulled back from him with a happy, “Good morning!”

“It is now,” he responded, mouthing along her jaw and down the side of her neck. “It would be a better morning if I could bend you over the f*cking island.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“We need to put some f*cking ice on your knee.” Negan groused.

_________

Mikhail hung up from his call with Gigi, dropping his phone onto his bathroom counter. He felt a bit unsettled, knowing something had been off about the end of his conversation with her. He replayed it in his mind, the change in the tone of her voice once her neighbor had entered the picture, and the sound of the breathy little hum he’d heard a minute before he’d heard the man’s voice in the background, stirring up some agitation. He knew that breathy sound because he’d heard it a million times, back when the Sokolovs were still living in New York and working with him. She would make the same noise every single time she would kiss Yuri. It was an ingrained response to the affection his malyshka was totally unaware of.

Misha took note of the fact it was seven something in the morning, and she hadn’t sounded surprised to see Negan. His mind didn’t want to jump to the conclusion it may have been because her neighbor had spent the night, but it did anyway. Unless they were workout buddies, who just happened to work out right after sunrise, it was very likely he’d been at her house all night. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the idea.

Yes, he was. Who was he trying to kid? He didn’t like it one bit. He shook his head at himself in the bathroom mirror as he stepped out of his silk pajama pants then moved to the shower to turn on the water, twisting his upper body from one side to the other to stretch his muscles as he waited for the water to get hot.

It wasn’t that he was unhappy at the thought of Gigi starting up a new relationship so soon after her husband had passed away. He, of all people, knewshe had been lonely and emotionally frustrated for a long time, tending to her unappreciative, volatile husband. Emotional and physical intimacy were long overdue in her life, but why would she try to find them with an insensitive oaf, who had given her nothing but grief since the day she’d met him? What is she thinking?

His tiny ballerina deserved to be happy. He truly wanted that for her. He did. But if he searched his soul, and if he was absolutely honest with himself, he had to admit he had expected, when the time came, she would find happiness again with a man who truly knew what made her happy. A man who knew her inside and out. A man who knew every little detail about Gigi Sokolov because they’d been the closest of friends, and had loved each other as fiercely as two people could, for longer than she and her husband had been married.

________

“How did you tear the meniscus?” Negan asked her as he motioned for her to sit on one of the bar height chairs at her island.

The dancer complied, prodding the underside and side of her knee once more to pinpoint the source of the pain. It really didn’t hurt now that she’d stopped the weight bearing exercise. There was just a little ache from aggravating it, which she knew would go away within a few hours if she took a couple capsules of her curcumin supplement. “I hurt it while I was dancing. I heard the pop. Felt the tear as it happened.” She grimaced at the memory, clutching her knee as if she was reliving the moment.

“Why didn’t you have the problem corrected?” he asked her. “You have an ice bag?” He looked at her, waiting for her to point him in the right direction.

“Top of the pantry,” she didn’t need to point, since they both had a pantry in the same place, having noted their houses were identical when she’d used his bathroom at the back to school party. “In the lavender basket, top shelf.” She smiled at him rifling through the bin before he pulled out an old fashioned ice bag with a screw top. “I had planned on having the tear repaired, but then decided to do a series of stem cell procedures to help with the osteoarthritis. The thought was the stem cells would regenerate the joint, help to slow the progression of the arthritis, and then they would go in and repair or replace the meniscus, and any other parts of the joint which had been damaged by the OA. Moving forward there would be less degeneration.”

“Makes sense,” Negan nodded his head as he filled the bag with ice from the bin inside the freezer. “Did you have the stem cell stuff done?” It had been a few years since she’d first torn the cartilage. He had heard stem cell therapy could be miraculous for structural joint pain, but he didn’t think it took years to complete. He was wondering why she still hadn’t had the surgery.

“Yes. Those procedures were finished in a short period of time,” she informed him, not elaborating.

Closing the freezer and walking to the sink, Negan added some cold water to the bag. Turning back to her he screwed the lid back on, watching as her demeanor changed to one more pensive, her eyes flitting around the room as she went into her own head, looking for what, he didn’t know. Moving to her, he lifted her calf, and laying the bag of ice on the edge of the island counter top, he laid her knee on top of it.

“If you miss dancing so much, Gigi, why haven’t you had the surgery done?” There was more to her story than she was telling him, and being he asshole he was he was going to push her to find out what it was. “You could have been through surgery and physical therapy, and started dancing again a long time ago,” he suggested, watching her face closely.

Her eyes finally came around to his, and she nodded very slightly. “Can I tell you something?” she questioned. “Something I haven’t told anyone?”

“Sure.”

“No, I mean,” she paused as she corrected herself, needing to clarify what she’d said, “will you keep something to yourself if I share it with you? It’s something I haven’t told anyone else, because it could be devastating for my image, and my affiliation with ballet. This can’t be repeated. To anyone.” She was hoping she was conveying the magnitude of what she wanted to tell him.

He was the perfect person to tell. She desperately needed to tell someone, and he knew very little about ballet, and didn’t run in the circle of people from that world. It was one of the many things she found appealing about him. It also meant his loyalty, assuming he had any, would be to her and no one from her former world.

Negan could see she needed to unload on him, and he was more than f*cking willing to be her dumping ground. She wanted to trust him and he, in turn, wanted to know every little f*cking thing about her. He wanted to know all the good things as well as her dirty little secrets, so he would have pieces of Gigi Sokolov the rest of the world had never seen. He was also curious as f*ck about what the big deal was.

He nodded solemnly, holding up one fist with his pinky extended. “Pinky swear,” he offered. He loved how her face lit up, her angst gone for a moment as she smiled at his promise and linked her pinky in his. She took it one step further, pulling his hand to her lips and kissing his little finger, pulling some of her romantic sh*t that he kinda f*cking liked.

“The tear isn’t that bad, Negan,” she confessed. “The osteoarthritis is minor as well. The stem cell therapy worked wonders for the OA.”

He furrowed his brow, shaking his head as he tried to understand. He had read online both of her diagnoses were debilitating. “What do you mean?”

“It means a very simple orthoscopic surgery and a few months of physical therapy and I would have been dancing again as if nothing had ever happened. It means I really only need to wear a knee brace when I’m exercising or dancing so I don’t make it worse. I not only dance in the dark on the dock, Negan, but I get up every morning during the week at five AM, close the curtains so no one can see inside the basem*nt, and I do barre exercises and dance for a few hours before I get ready for my day. I’m taking a little bit of a chance I could make the injury worse, but since I’ll need surgery to correct the problem anyway I just have to dance.” She was excited, smiling as she talked, showing him how happy dancing made her. “I could have blown my cover the day I danced in the gym for you. I just couldn’t resist that big beautiful floor, and I had assumed you were gone for the day. I figured if anyone saw me, I’d limp around for a few days afterwards swearing at myself within people’s earshot about making my knee worse.”

“Seriously?” Negan was shocked, to say the least. Pulling one of the other bar stools so the front of the seat was touching the side of hers he straddled it, wrapping his knees around the front and back of her chair, trying to position himself as close to her as possible. “I don’t get it. Why didn’t you just get it taken care of? You’ve given up the career you loved, when you didn’t have to?” Quiet for a few seconds, he then answered his own question, “The reason why you’ve kept your secret is f*cking huge, isn’t it?”

Gigi looked at him for several moments, before she broke eye contact. Pulling her leg off the unnecessary bag of ice, she turned to face him. She spread her legs over the top of his spread thighs so they were practically nose to nose, needing the physical connection as she revealed more of her truth. It had unwittingly started pouring out of her, and she needed to keep going. She needed to unburden herself of the massive lie which had been eating at her for so long.

Once she was settled she answered his question, “There was a time I thought I didn’t want to dance anymore, Negan.” Her eyes welled up suddenly as she backtracked. “That’s not true. I love dancing with all my heart and it’s been killing me that I’ve had to live this lie. I miss it so much!”

“What the f*ck, Gigi?” he prompted her, the words harsh, but his tone soft.

“I liedabout my knee because I didn’t want to dance with Yuri anymore,” she admitted softly, searching his eyes for any signs of judgement.

No. f*cking. sh*t. He didn’t know dick about her career field, but even he could figure out what it would mean if she would have stopped dancing with her husband.

“The torn meniscus was the perfect excuse for me to take a break while I tried to figure out how to move forward and if I could dance without him, without shattering both of our careers. We’d been having problems. He went from being my loving husband to someone I didn’t recognize. For a few years before his aneurysm he’d become harder and harder to live with, constantly irritable, and he was always taking his bad mood out on me. At first he would nitpick at me about little things, but it got worse with time and he was constantly questioning everything I did. It became unbearable. Especially when he started criticizing me personally.” Hurt showed in her eyes as she continued, “All of the things he used to tell me he loved about me became things he couldn’t stand about me. It broke my heart.” She started to sniffle and a few tears fell, but she continued her story, wiping them away impatiently.

“Since we worked together, we were always together. When he first started to change I would at least get a break when we were rehearsing. When we were dancing he was still the Yuri I loved. We were still magic together.” The memory brought a wistful smile to her face, but it disappeared quickly when she went on.

“After a time he started criticizing my dancing, too, and that was the beginning of the end. I realized the only reason he hadn’t picked at me about my dancing before was because he was trying to behave in front of the people we worked with, and especially in front of Mikhail.

“It started with his body language,” she relayed as if pulling the scene from her mind, suddenly sitting up straighter in front of him as if in a dance pose. “He would tense, and his movements would become harsh and rigid when he was upset with me. It was all subtle, and most people wouldn’t have noticed it as they watched us, but I could feel it. It began to happen more and more frequently. Suddenly we were two mismatched people trying to perform an angry pas de deux. We couldn’t connect anymore. We couldn’t feel each other anymore, so the magic disappeared.”

Negan was fascinated with what she was telling him, her marital strife a complete surprise to him.

Gigi kept eye contact with him as she spoke, her hands dancing in the air between them as her delicate fingers described how they came apart at the seams, her rigid hands physically describing to Negan the feeling of her husband tensing, her palms pressing together and then gracefully separating, telling the story of how she and her husband had grown apart.

“His constant anger was why I was injured,” she revealed softly.

The fact her description of Yuri’s mood had shifted from agitation and irritability to anger did not go unnoticed by Negan. “What do you mean, Gigi?” he prodded her, starting to get a little f*cking agitated himself at the thought the man may have hurt her out of anger.

“We were doing a lift where I would turn in the air,” his dancer described in layman's terms, moving her hands as if she were Yuri, lifting his partner into the air with a twist of his hands and arms. “He was upset about something I’d done, in a hurry to move on, and he spun me before I was off the ground. My upper body and thigh turned while my foot was still planted on the floor, tearing the cartilage. I thought Misha was going to kill him,” Gigi’s hands clenched into fists as she felt her mentor’s anger. “I’d never heard him yell like he did. He actually shoved Yuri that day. It was something I never thought I’d see.”

“Jesus, Gigi,” Negan soothed her, taking her hands in his own and rubbing the back of them with his thumbs. “There’s no f*cking excuse for Yuri’s behavior. He knew better.”

“Yes, he did.”

Fresh tears started to fall in tracks down her cheeks, and he brushed them away with his thumbs. Pulling her to him with a hand around the back of her neck, he placed a kiss on her forehead, hoping it would comfort her.

“We found out, after he was hospitalized with the aneurysm, he’d had a series of mini strokes and other smaller aneurysms that probably caused the changes in his personality. The news didn’t make it any easier to live with him for that last year of his life, though, especially since he became more and more volatile before he died.”

“Did he ever f*cking hit you, Gigi?” Negan was trying very hard to keep his tone neutral, because she didn’t need to deal with his anger at her husband.

“Oh, no!” she reassured him passionately. “He never hit me.” He was trying to hide his agitation, but she could hear her hero’s protectiveness, and she appreciated it. Leaning forward, she rested her forehead at the corner of his mouth, and after a few seconds he turned to kiss her brow.

The coach relaxed a bit, relieved to hear her answer, calmed by the intimate contact. He couldn’t f*cking believe what he was hearing. Ballet’s f*cking royalty had been royally f*cked up, and no one had known it. In all the articles he’d read about her online, until Yuri’s death, there had been no mention of any trouble in their paradise. “What happened then?” he encouraged her to continue.

“I went to see a specialist, the day after I was injured. I went by myself. Yuri had a photo shoot with DANCE magazine, and Misha was busy with company business. When the doctor looked at my scans, he told me he saw some minor degeneration from the arthritis and what looked like a small lateral meniscal tear. He said the surgery would be simple, orthoscopic, with a short recuperation period and some PT, and I’d be on my merry way back into the dance spot light. He mentioned the stem cell treatment, and advised visits twice a year to check on the progress of the arthritis.”

Gigi felt her relief growing as she poured her heart out to Negan. The concern on his face, and the change of the emotions in his expression as she went on, were endearing. He sat quietly, running his hands along the top of her thighs as she continued, “When he told me it would be an easy fix, I actually found myself distressed. I realized I had spent the previous twenty-four hours relieved at the prospect of having an excuse to take a break from dancing. The ballet we were rehearsing for was to open in a few months. I had it in my head that my understudy would take over dancing the lead with Yuri, and he would be so busy he’d never be at home with me. It sounded like heaven, because I’d finally get a break from him.

“The poor doctor couldn’t figure out what why I broke down in tears on the exam table.” She chuckled at the memory, shaking her head and wiping at her own tears with her fingers. “I decided to be honest with him. I told him what I’d been feeling. I hadn’t expected him to offer me a solution. It just felt good to share my stress. The great thing was, he did offer me a very viable solution. He said, ‘Look, Misses Sokolov, it is all up to you how you handle this. Your medical records are protected by doctor patient confidentiality and HIPAA regulations. I can’t share any information you don’t want me to share about your case, with anyone, without your permission. This means you can either tell your husband you have a minor tear which can be easily repaired, and a few signs of osteoarthritis which are no big deal for the present, or you can tell him there has been damage to the meniscus which can only be corrected with repair or transplant and the osteoarthritis in the knee joints, if left unchecked, could possibly lead to permanent debilitation with time. Both assessments of the problem are true. It’s all in the wording.’”

“Holy sh*t, Gigi!” It finally all came together, and he was stunned by what he’d heard. He rubbed one hand up and down on his beard, trying to process everything she’d told him.

She stared at Negan for several seconds before quipping, “I guess you can figure out how I decided to word things to Misha and Yuri … and the rest of the world.” Quiet for a moment, she then apologized, “I’m sorry I lied to you about my knee.” She was so grateful he’d listened to her without judging her, and she hoped he wouldn’t be angry with her. One glance up at his face and she saw nothing but acceptance.

“I don’t give a f*ck about that Gigi. It wasn’t something personal. You weren’t lying to me about something to do with us. That would be a different matter. This was a little white lie.”

“Negan?” She was overwhelmed by her feelings for him, suddenly needing to show him how she felt about him. Looking at him slyly, she ran her hands up the inside of his thighs, up to the juncture of the seam of his shorts, her thumbs searching the outside of the fabric for something to play with underneath.

“Yes, Gigi?” He squirmed where he sat, letting out a long low growl when she found was she was looking for and started to rub along his length with her thumbs.

“You said my lie didn’t have anything to do with us. Does that mean you think there’s an us?” She was a little excited at prospect he was looking at this thing they had going on as some sort of relationship. She hoped so. She had opened herself up to him in so many ways, and she really wanted to know he was interested in her for something more than just sex.

“Ahh, jeez, doll. You’re gonna make me go there, right now?”

“If you want some quick action before you go meet Merle, you’ll go there,” she stated as she opened the front of his shorts and slid her hand inside. “It’s up to you.” Wrapping her fingers around him she stroked him lightly a few times, flattered to find he was already fully erect.

“Yes there’s a f*cking us, if you haven’t figured it out by now,” he answered curtly, but also sounding a bit breathy. “There’s been a f*cking us since you jerked me around and felt me up in the hallway at school.”

“Not quite the wording I was looking for, but, I'll take it,” Gigi grinned, stroking him more firmly.

Chapter 15: He's Like a Sex Popsicle

Chapter Text

He was so close to coming, the sight of her lusciously tight asshole jacking him up as he thrust into her from behind. She was bent over the island in the middle of her kitchen, one of his hands splayed across her lower back to keep her right where he f*cking wanted her. He ran his wet index finger over the pucker a few more times with the slightest amount of pressure, grinning at the sound of her keening. He was going to breech that baby soon enough, but he wanted to do it when he had the time for them both to fully enjoy it, not when he was in a rush to get off and go.

Hurriedly pulling his dick out of his girl, Negan reached over to the closest bar chairs at the island, turning one towards himself before sitting down on it, using his index and middle finger to call her to him. “Climb on up here, doll,” he ordered, moving his ass towards the front edge of the seat and resting his shoulder blades against the back of chair so she could f*ck him good and proper. He wanted to look at her beautiful face when he came.

Panting, his girl climbed onto his lap, bracing her feet on the rungs between the legs on either side of the chair. Sliding down his length, Gigi immediately started moving up and down on him. The muscles of her thighs were taut under his fingertips as he caressed them, yet he could feel her shifting her weight so more of it was supported by one leg.

“Ah, f*ck. Your knee, Gigi,” he cursed in between panting breaths, pissed at himself for forgetting the injury because he was so caught up in his own need for release. “Will it be okay?”

“No worries. Just making sure I don’t overdo it.” She nipped at his top lip, grinning wickedly before she teased, “I clearly won’t need todo this for long, Negan.” She couldn’t help laughing at the glare he gave her in response.

He wrapped his arms around her, his forearms and hands under her rear end, helping to raise and lower her on his shaft. “I got your long,” he countered, tightening his grip on her ass and yanking her down onto his co*ck with force, her laughter cut short by her gasp of pleasure.The little bastard started protesting in discontent at the slowing of their pace so Negan started to move her more quickly, setting a tempo he hoped she could keep up with. She didn’t hesitate to meet it.

She threw her head back, mouthing an “oooh” as she rotated her hips seeking out the most pleasure. Finding the angle which felt the best, she increased her speed, locking her hips so she could create the sensation over and over. Negan watched her, his eyes traveling over her from top to bottom, enchanted with how f*cking stunning she looked as she rode him. She started mewling and he pulled her to him, covering one of her teenie tinies with his mouth and sucking with force, while he looked down between them to watch his co*ck slide in and out of her. Fuuuuuck, that’s nice.

“f*ck! Gigi, f*ck!” Negan grunted, his arms burning with the strain of helping to support her weight as he closed in on his org*sm. So f*cking close.

Gigi had found her rhythm, and she clutched the sides of the back of the chair on either side of Negan’s torso, using it for leverage to move faster and harder. Caught up in what she was doing, she ignored the movement she noticed out of the corner of her eye in the glass panel in the front door thirty feet in front of her. By the time she realized the motion wasn’t a good sign it was too late to do anything about it. The door swung open and her mother walked in, the spare set of door keys Gigi had given her in her hand.

“Mom!” she blurted in a gush of panting breath. Hunching forward and grabbing Negan’s hair to pull him away from her nipple, she yanked his head so his nose was pressed into her cheek.

His girl’s aggressive gesture and exclamation caused Negan to freeze in place underneath her, his eyes wide but amused as he turned his head to look at her face. She looks like a deer in f*cking headlights! His girl’s fingers twisted painfully into his hair in retribution when she felt him chuckle beneath her.

“Bonjour, ma chérie!” her mother greeted her in her smooth southern accent, not seeing her daughter as she looked down at the keys in her hands, fiddling to try to straighten out a few of them on the ring as she walked into the kitchen. “Marshall left his book here and he needs it so your father can help him finish that English summer project he has to do for school,” she informed Gigi. “You know your father always was the one to help you and Pierre with your writing assignments. Definitely not my forte.”

What the f*ck? Negan couldn’t figure out why the woman speaking French with a southern drawl was still chatting away while their asses were buck naked right in front of her, but he wasn’t going to turn around to see what the f*ck was going on.

“They all went to that greasy diner for breakfast, you know the one that always gives me indigestion?” Gigi stared at her mom with wide eyes and an open mouth as she continued to ramble, still trying to untangle the keys. “I don’t know why that happens, since I get something different to eat each time I go there. I told him I’d run over here and get the book for him while they ate, so he could do his homework before they go to see that scary movie this afternoon …” Her mother finally looked up from her task, trying to process what she was seeing as her rambling slowed dramatically, “…. you know, the one with the scary clown … who lives in the sewwwer … oh, my.”

Gigi was still mounted on Negan, legs spread around him, her eyebrows raised as she stared at her mother, true mortification setting in when she saw the recognition wash over the woman’s face.

“Oh, my,” her mother declared again, moving her eyes up and down the spectacle in front of her. “Um, he uh … he said he left it on his dresser. I better go get it and just be on my way.” Gigi would have laughed at the sight of her mother turning to scurry down the hallway towards the bedrooms, if she wasn’t horrified. She let out the breath she’d been holding as her mother disappeared down the hall, relaxing her body only to gasp loudly and tense once more when her mother appeared again with a curious expression.

“Is this the handsome neighbor you were telling me about when you dropped the kids off yesterday afternoon?” she whispered loudly, as if Negan wouldn’t hear her since she was speaking in a hushed tone and his back was to her.

“Mom, really? Now’s not the time!” Gigi questioned as gently as she could considering the circ*mstances, co*cking her head at her mother and flitting her eyes towards the hallway to try to get her moving.

“You’re right, dear. Let me just get that book.” Estelle turned once again to hurry down the hall.

Gigi immediately hopped off of Negan’s lap, scrambling to grab her sports bra and shorts off the floor and throwing his khaki shorts at him before she quickly pulled the scanty top over her head, letting the spandex snap in to place. Pulling her shorts up her legs and yanking them with all her might, her body jumped up and down from the force she was using to hastily pull the garment up.

When Estelle reentered the kitchen two minutes later, Gigi had her back to her mother as she nonchalantly searched the cupboard on the wall which held the beverage glasses and coffee mugs. Her eyes weren’t really seeing what was inside it as she tried to regain her composure and calm her breathing. Negan, on the other hand, was leaning with his rear end against the lower cabinets next to her in only his shorts, hair standing on end as he grinned widely at the woman in front of him.

“I found it!” her mother exclaimed proudly, holding the novel in the air, not at all phased by the half clothed, unfamiliar man who’d she just caught having sex with her daughter. “You really should tell Marshall he needs to clean his room, Gigi.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust at the state of the boy’s space, nodding her head at Negan to include him in the conversation.

He wrinkled his nose back at her, shaking his head in mock disgust.

Seeing him toying with her mother, Gigi nudged him with her elbow before turning around to give her mother a pointed look, hoping she would leave quickly. “Sure thing, mom. Thanks for picking that up for him. See you when you bring the kids back tonight!”

“Yes … right,” the woman responded, seemingly confused by her daughter’s brush off. She subtly co*cked her head toward Negan as if to ask if her daughter if she was going to introduce them.

“Bye, mom,” Gigi blatantly suggested her mother leave once more, gritting her teeth and minutely shaking her head no in response to the unspoken request, frowning at Negan as he continued to study her mother, an amused expression on his face.

“Alright, well, I’ll just be going then,” Estelle announced mouthing, ‘So handsome!” at her daughter, once again acting as if talking directly to Gigi would preclude Negan from hearing her.

“Mom!”

“Okay, okay,” Gigi’s mother acquiesced, throwing both hands up in the air, as she finally walked towards the front door.

Negan wrinkled his nose at his girl, calling out to Gigi’s mother as she opened the door, “Bye, mom!”

“Au revoir, um, I’m sorry, I don’t know your name,” Estelle apologized as she turned back to him, motioning to her daughter to remind him Gigi had refused to introduce them, so was at fault for the faux pas.

“It’s Negan,” he informed her with a wink. “Nice to meet you. I can see where Gigi gets her beauty from.”

Estelle was flustered for a moment at the handsome man’s blatant flirting, before she responded, “Yes … well, um, merci, Negan. It’s nice to meet you too! You know my husband is a handsome man. Gigi definitely has his eyes, I think …”

“Mom!”

“I’m going, Gigi! My goodness, you are trés impatient, today.”

Negan guffawed when he heard the door finally click shut, his girl admonishing, “You are downright rotten!” before breaking into laughter at her mother’s flustered response to him and the rest of the awkward visit.

__________

“Was it everything ya dreamed it’d be?” the sleepy asshole on the couch quizzed Negan when he came through the sliders from his deck. The redneck was stretched out on his furniture, looking as if he’d just woken up from a nap. Since the coach hadn’t texted he’d be late, his buddy had obviously made himself at home. It wasn’t the first time he had come home to find Merle in his house, invitation or not.

Negan was sporting a hard on the size of Montana and he just wanted to get to his room and take a shower, so he could jerk off to the image of Gigi riding him in her kitchen. After her mother had shown up and interrupted their morning romp, they’d begrudgingly decided to continue their fun later so he could keep his fishing date.

f*ck. No doubt the man had figured out he was next door. Negan hadn’t hidden the fact he’d had a hard on for Gigi ever since she’d moved in. Why else would he be coming in the door so early in the morning?

“Suck my dick, Merle,” the football coach retorted as he made his way to the kitchen sink to get a quick drink of water.

“Ya know I might just take ya up on that offer, if your dick tastes like Gigi’s puss*,” was the response from the family room, making the coach laugh heartily.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a crass f*cking asshole?” the coach gibed, not validating his friend’s assumption.

“Lotsa times. I’m actually, kinda prouda that fact.” Merle was quiet while Negan downed a second tumbler of water and then set the empty glass in the sink. As he walked between the kitchen and family room to head down the hall to his room, he heard the redneck’s voice softly caution, “Don’t f*ck with her, dickhe*d.”

Negan wanted to tell the man to go f*ck himself but he could understand why Merle felt protective of Gigi. “Not planning on it,” he responded sincerely, then added, “so, f*ck off.” He could hear his buddy’s cackle as he continued down the hall.

“Hey! Make sure ya do somethin’ about that boner while you’re back there,” his friend called down the hall. “I don’t want that thing pokin’ me in the eye while I’m sittin’ across from ya on that tiny boat a yers.”

__________

Gigi had been soaking in a tub of hot water with one of her favorite cbd bath bombs to help ease the pain in her knee. So much had happened in the last few days, and her obsessive compulsive mind needed to compartmentalize all of it to analyze it thoroughly and then store all of its parts in their correct places. She was not a fly by the seat of her pants kind of girl, or the kind of person who would just “go with it”. She had to overthink everything, with all of the why’s and what if’s, just in case. In case of what, she didn’t know. That wasn’t important. She just had to do it.

She relaxed for almost an hour, setting aside the conversation she’d had with Negan about her knee, and replaying her amazing night with him, smiling frequently and also quivering a few times at the memories. Not caring in the least if she was being melodramatic, she felt like she had a new lease on life after their night together.

The foreplay had been amazing, and it had opened her eyes to a few things. One, she had simply needed Negan’s time and patience to climax for the first time at the hands of someone else. She suspected once she was even more comfortable with him, her org*sms wouldn’t be such time consuming projects.

Two, she’d had no idea how great sex could be. She wondered how many women he must have slept with to become so familiar with all of the nuances of the female body, and to learn just how to touch her to make her tremble in response. It was obvious he wasn’t just playing with her as a necessary means to an end. He clearly got a kick out of her reactions, making sure to repeat the moves which elicited the best responses, smiling to himself as he’d done so, which tickled her.

Three, she had learned a few things about herself in the last few days. The praise kink had been a surprise for her, but more surprising was how turned on she’d been when Negan was playing rough with her. She and Yuri had had sex doggy style, but there was something which electrified her about the way Negan had slammed into her as if he couldn’t control himself, talking to her as if the filthy words coming out of his mouth were nothing remarkable. As if it was commonplace for him to ask women, “Do you like the feel of my co*ck f*cking your puss*?”

When he’d demanded her compliance, bellowing for her to answer him, she had shaken in her nonexistent shoes with something less menacing and more delicious than fear, while her core had pulsed with pleasure. She’d been driven to answer him, and answer him properly, because she’d wanted the level of his pride in her to match the level of his fervor, the desire to be his good girl, juxtaposed with the lechery of it all. She’d never experienced anything like it, the arousal evoked, undreamed of. Just recalling it made a thrill run through Gigi, which settled between her thighs.

She found herself more than a little nervous about what would happen when she actually had to reciprocate during foreplay, since his level of experience left her with the realization she had a lot to learn. Other than a few strokes of his penis, and the not so grand effort of being on top for a while, she’d inadvertently gotten away with putting very little effort into his pleasure. Can you search “Top Ten Foreplay Moves Men Love” on the internet?

The way she’d teased Negan until he was dying to org*sm had been pretty darn good if she did say so herself. She was pleased with how it had heightened his arousal, enjoying the idea she’d had so much power over the intensity of his org*sm. He’d told her it was called edging, and she was pleased with herself for mastering his technique so quickly and turning the tables on him.

Having replayed all the luscious, sexy stuff, Gigi let her mind move to the stuff she normally avoided,and she was surprised to find a good bit of the agitation which normally associated with thinking about her knee injury had abated. Sharing her lie with Negan had eased her mind to a degree she’d not expected, his support and comfort so soothing. His soft side had made another appearance, drawing her further into him.

___________

“She rode me like a f*cking rodeo cowgirl,” Negan reported as he sat across from his friend in his twenty foot runabout on the Potomac River.

“Reeeally,” Merle responded thoughtfully to his friend’s admission. “I woulda pegged her for a missionary position kinda gal.”

“Me too, man. Prissy little thing surprised the sh*t outta me,” Negan confessed, making sure his bait was secure on his hook and casting his line back out into the water. They were fairing pretty well on their outing, having caught four good sized rockfish in less than two hours.

“Ya gonna go back for more?” Merle checked his own line before reaching behind him to find the egg and sausage sandwiches he’d picked up from the deli, pulling them out of the insulated bag he’d put them in to keep them warm. He also grabbed his thermos of coffee to refill their insulated mugs. “I can tell you she ain’t a one night stand kinda woman.”

“f*ck, yeah I’m going back. I’d be f*cking crazy not to tap that puss* again,” the coach replied in all seriousness, quiet for a moment before he inquired, “You remember that blonde with the big titt*es you f*cked around with for a couple of months last spring?”

“Jenna? The one that left me all starry eyed an’ sh*t?” the redneck remembered fondly.

“Yeah, that one. You said you were never the same afterwards?”

Merle nodded, a lecherous smirk on his face as he responded, “No, I damn sure wasn’t. I was never the same after I dipped inta that magic puss* a hers. Shame she was married.” His expression suddenly turned to one of surprise as his eyes widenedin realization. “sh*t! You sayin’ Gigi’s got one a them magic puss*es? I’m tellin’ ya, you’re screwed, man. You won’t be able to walk away from that.” The redneck shook his head in sympathy for his buddy’s plight.

“You don’t need to tell me I’m f*cking screwed,” the coach groaned, disgusted with himself for being so damned smitten with her after only two nights of fun. “I knew it the minute I dove into her f*cking deep end.” He had been obsessed with the idea of getting into her panties, and now thathe'd tried her on for size, he knew he needed a piece of her on the f*cking regular.

“You could do worse, amigo.”

__________

After her bath Gigi basked in her afterglow as she laid on her bed, drawing up plans for the renovation of the house. She was meeting with a contractor in the middle of the week, and needed to have her list of wants solidified by then. As she relaxed, her phone whistled, alerting her to a text message from one of her favorite contacts, which was either the kids, her parents or Misha.

3:18 PM Misha

You get your way, brat.

Worked it out so we can

ride together. :-P

Gigi smiled to herself. She’d had no doubt she would get her way. As much as he liked to fuss at her, he also catered to her every whim. If she crooked her finger Mikhail Baryshnikov would come running, a privilege women all over the world would envy. She counted on it. More than she should. It had been a bone of contention between her and Yuri at times, even before their discord, her husband jealous of how their mentor doted on her, and would always help solve his wife’s problems, or quell her upset, when he, himself couldn’t.

“That’s just what friends do for each other,” she had reassured her mate in their better days. “Most women talk to their girlfriends about these things. I talk to Misha. You should be grateful you don’t have to deal with my ‘drama’, as you put it, since it makes you uncomfortable.” Using the word “uncomfortable” had been Gigi’s honey coated way of reminding him he didn’t have the patience to deal with anyone’s emotional turmoil, other than his own. Yuri hadn’t been able deny the simple truth.

Even at the beginning of their relationship she had been aware of her partner’s flaws. Besides wanting to be taken care of, her husband had not been the most selfless man. He had let her know why and how much he adored her every day, and her shared in her joys, but he’d always expected her to handle her own problems. Any emotional upheaval was an inconvenience for him, and he knew it. There was one reason Gigi had been able to tolerate his self-centered nature. His good outweighed his bad, and he was well aware of his inability to support her, emotionally, so let her seek solace with their best friend.

Guilt started to seep into the forefront of her mind as she recalled the conversations she’d had with both Misha and Negan that morning, negative emotions surrounding both recollections even though she felt much lighter after sharing her secret with Negan. The ballerina knew exactly why she was feeling out of sorts. Mikhail was her best friend. He had been since shortly after they’d met. He, along with her husband, had been her substitute family from the time she’d moved away from Northern Virginia to New York as a teenager. She and Misha were much closer than even he and Yuri had been, she and her mentor much more intimate in every aspect of their relationship. There was almost nothing Gigi and Misha didn’t share, whether it was a bottle of water, business plans, their hopes and dreams, or the details of their romantic relationships. The man knew almost everything there was to know about her, except for two things. He didn’t know she’d been lying to him about her inability to dance, and he didn’t know about the shift in her relationship with Negan.

She had chosen not to tell him the truth about her knee, because at the time she’d been hurt, the ABT had spent an insane amount of money promoting the brilliant ballet Misha had choreographed, the one she and Yuri had been rehearsing for the day her meniscus had been torn. The company had ended up spending even more money to rework all of the promotional materials and ads, removing her name and adding her understudy’s name. Her mentor had taken her exit from his new ballet very gracefully, more concerned about her health than his monetary loss, heightening her guilt about her lie.

When the show opened, the choreography was praised highly, but the reviews for the dancing were not kind. Comparisons were made between Yuri’s new partner and Gigi which were not flattering for the new lead. Ticket sales slowed once the reviews were published, and Gigi watched, horrified as her lie ended up costing the company and her Misha, even more money. The guilt she felt about all of it weighed on her every single day.

She was also feeling guilty because last discussion she’d had with Mikhail about Negan was before her relationship with her neighbor had changed from adversarial to intimate. It was no wonder he’d sounded surprised her neighbor was with her while she was working out that morning. She didn’t know why she hadn’t updated Misha about Negan. The omission was odd, considering the new romance had been at the forefront of her thoughts as she and Mikhail had made their plans for his visit, talking several times in the last handful of days. The sense of unease she’d been feeling about sharing her new relationship with him was disconcerting, and the fact she had been spending far too much time trying to figure out exactly how to present it to him, added to her unease. Gigi felt like she was lying to him left and right, and it felt like betrayal, in her mind.

Picking up her phone, she texted Misha back.

3:22 PM

I love you.

Less than thirty seconds later, her phone whistled again.

3:22 PM Misha

I know. <3

Gigi smiled at the pat response they used for each other’s endearments. She made up her mind the perfect time to tell her friend about Negan would be while he was in town for the honors ceremony.

___________

“She’s so f*cking honest,” Negan confided in Merle. He didn’t know why he was telling his buddy this sh*t. Maybe it was to see if his buddy would find her behavior disconcerting as he did.

“Yeah, she is.”

“Too honest.”

“She’ll tell ya anything. Ya just gotta ask. She’s got no damn filter,” Merle shared. “I can tell ya anything ya wanna know about her, after havin’ coffee with her for two weeks. Go ahead, ask me, somethin’,” he challenged.

Negan raised his eyebrows in response, trying not to get pissed at the man’s bragging, because he knew Merle was just trying to illustrate Gigi was an open book. He knew Merle would never f*ck with his best friend’s girl. It was the number one rule in the unwritten, drinking buddy’s friendship manual. The ballerina’s morning coffee buddy could talk sh*t about her, and flirt with her, but he’d never f*ck around with her behind Negan’s back. “Okay, what’s her favorite food?” The coach started with something easy.

“Her mother’s home-made croissants. But she won’t eat 'em 'cause a all the carbs.”

Negan shook his head, not surprised at the answer. “Her favorite book?” There was no way the asshole would know the answer to that one.

“Gone With The Wind,” the groundskeeper countered. “She’s read it a buncha times. Had a black cat for awhile named Rhett Butler, when she was livin' in New York.”

Negan nodded his head, impressed with the morsel of information.Time to go deeper. “What’s the story with her dead husband? Sounds like he was a selfish prick,” Negan fished for information, trying to find out more details about Gigi’s marriage.

“Yeah, he was,” the groundskeeper confirmed. “But Gigi knew it. Sounded like it was kinda a tradeoff. She was in charge of every damn thing in their life, which she liked, but she also had to be in charge a every-damn-thing in their life.”

“He sounds like a dick.”

“Yeah and no.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was crazy about her, man. Thought she hung the damn moon,” the redneck explained. “He was a momma’s boy, and she’s a control freak … she took care a him, right good.”

“So they were a match made in f*cking heaven,” Negan concluded. It was obvious Merle was talking about Gigi and Yuri’s relationship before her husband had started acting like a f*cking asshole, but even then the man wouldn’t have won any husband of the year awards. The coach gave himself a point for knowing things about the relationship that his friend didn't know, but he still played along. “If she’s such a f*cking control freak, what appeal does she see in playing on Coach Negan’s playground? She knows by now I always have to be in charge.” The question was genuine, but he was more talking out loud to himself than asking for his friend’s opinion. Merle answered his question anyway.

“She was tired of bein’ in charge. The puss* could barely take a damn leak without her holdin’ his dick. It got old.”

“She told you that?”

“Not in so many words, man. Just get her talking about it. You’ll see. Her whole mood changes when she talks about him. And not in a good way. She’s feelin’ a little guilty she’s relieved she doesn’t have to take care a his sh*t anymore. I told her to get over it; what’s she’s feelin’s just normal.”

“You charge her by the hour for your f*cking therapy sessions with her?” Negan goaded.

“Nah,” his buddy replied. “She’s listens ta my sh*t just as much as I listen ta hers.”

“And you’ve learned all this sh*t about her during your morning coffee klatches?”

“Yep,” Merle felt a bite on his line, and started reeling it in carefully. “And when we talk on the phone.”

“You talk on the f*cking phone?”

___________

“We literally just started up the relationship, mom,” Gigi tried to convince her mother she hadn’t been hiding her new affair. The kids and her father were still at the movies, so Estelle had decided to call to get more information about Negan, the minute she’d arrived home after picking up Marshall’s book. Strangely, her mother could have cared less she’d walked in on her daughter having sex. She was more upset Gigi hadn’t told her she was having sex with her neighbor.

“But we just talked about him Friday afternoon, and you acted like he was just a crush, not a lover,” Estelle prodded her for an explanation of what she’d witnessed in her daughter’s kitchen.

Lover? Who says that? “Oh God, mom. Please don’t use that word!” Lover. Negan was her lover. While she actually liked the idea of it, hearing her mother say it made her cringe.

“He’s sooo handsome,” Estelle gushed. Ignoring Gigi’s plea, she questioned her excitedly, “Is he a good lover? I bet he is!”

“Mom!” Gigi wasn’t sure if she was more horrified at her mother’s inquiry, or her overuse of a word a daughter should never hear coming out of a mother’s mouth. “I’m not talking to you about this.”

“Oh, come on,” Estelle prompted. “Let me live vicariously through you. It’s been so long since I’ve had a new lov …”

“Don’t say it!” Cutting across her mother, Gigi shuddered at the unsolicited confession. “Will you drop it? Please?” She and her mother were close, talking every day to check in on each other, but they’d never discussed the details of their love lives.

“If you answer me real quick,” Estelle’s southern accent oozed through the phone as she presented her ultimatum, “I’ll let it go.”

Gigi thought about the proposal for exactly four seconds before she gushed, “He’s amazing!” Her pride quickly turned to horror at what she’d just shared. Just so wrong.

“I knew it!” Estelle gloated. “I could tell just by looking at him. I mean, he’s like a sex popsicle!”

“A sex popsicle? A what? What do you m…” Gigi started to laugh, unable to contain herself when she figured out her mother’s mistake. “Do you mean he’s like sex on a stick?”

“Oh, you know what I meant. Same thing, sex popsicle, sex on a stick,” Estelle chided her daughter, finally laughing at her herself once she heard the difference out loud. “You know, your father and I can keep the kids again tonight, instead of bringing them home, if you want. We can just drop Hannah off at the house and drop off Marshall at football practice tomorrow.”

“Would you?” Negan had told her he’d be back later, to finish what they’d started, and not having to work around the kids would make things easier. She wasn’t sure yet, what or when she would tell them about her and the coach, so she and Negan would have to keep out of sight until she figured it out. “I’d really appreciate it, mom.”

The line was quiet for several seconds before Estelle changed the tone of the discussion, reassuring her daughter softly, “You know it’s okay, Gigi, for you to move on. I know you well enough to know you have some worry rattling around in your heart about disrespecting Yuri’s memory.”

“You know me well,” Gigi admitted.

“I, of all people, know how Yuri changed so radically over the last few years. It’s been a long time since you’ve been in a romantic relationship, ma chérie, even if you were married. It’s time for you to be happy.” While she had shared her marriage troubles with her mother back when they’d first started, her mother didn’t know the truth about her departure from dancing. It was another source of guilt for the ballerina.

“I know that, and you know that, but the rest of the world doesn’t know that, mom. I have been worrying about what people will think if they know I’m getting involved with someone so soon after Yuri passed away,” Gigi revealed, her distress obvious in her tone. “This thing with Negan is so exciting, and feels so right to me, but I know how it would look to someone the outside. I’d probably judge me harshly, too. What kind of woman falls into bed with another man, two months after her husband dies?”

“You’re sounding a little bit like your mother in law, Gigi. Are those your words coming out of your mouth, or hers? She and the rest of the world don’t need to know about Negan, until you’re ready to share the relationship with them.”

Gigi marveled at how her mother understood her so well. “You know that’s not always the way it works,” she huffed. It was sad to say, she’d spent quite a bit of time worrying about this very matter, knowing she would have very little control over what was posted on social media and on the internet once word got out.

Since she and Yuri had been the darlings of the ballet world for so long, there was no doubt, if she didn’t wait until a respectable amount of time passed to be seen with a new love interest, there would be an ugly backlash. Once Yuri had ended his dance career, she had advised their publicist to stop posting on social media other than an occasional update, and words of thanks for their fans ongoing support, because she’d wanted to keep their trials to themselves. Being seen out in public, or with Negan would spark new interest in her life, whether she wanted it or not. She knew she shouldn’t care about the opinions of people who really didn’t know her, but it was hard not to, especially when she knew the backlash would likely be validated or even sparked by her own mother in law.

“I know sweetheart,” Estelle commiserated. “The only thing you can do for now is enjoy your new lover, while you try to figure out how to ease information into the social eye when the time comes.”

“You just had to say it again, didn’t you?"

Chapter 16: It's Just A f*cking blow j*b

Chapter Text

“I’m telling you I don’t really know what to do.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know what to do?”

“I think the statement is pretty straight forward, Negan,” Gigi returned. “I’ve never done it before. I mean, obviously, I could probably figure it out as I go, but …”

“Seriously?” he cut across her incredulously.

“Seriously, what?”

“You’ve never given head before?”

He felt a little f*cking ridiculous, having the discussion with her in his current position. Gigi was laying beneath him on her back. He had crawled up her body and was hovering over her on his elbows and knees, nude, the head of his dick at her lips, ready to do some serious face f*cking. His fun had come to a halt before it had even started, when she’d put her palms flat on his hip bones, pushing gently to keep him at a distance, preempting him with, “Um, Negan? I’m a feeling a little bit lost here.”

“What do you mean you feel lost?” he’d dropped his chin to his chest, looking down his torso at her as he’d questioned her. That was when she’d informed him she didn’t know what to do.

He had shown up outside the French doors leading into her bedroom at ten at night, needing to f*ck her after spending all day thinking about everything he’d done to her the night before and plotting what he wanted to do to her next. When Gigi had informed him the kids were staying another night at her parents, he’d wasted no time backing her into the wall and kissing her ardently, pushing himself all the f*ck into her and pinning her in place, because women f*cking loved that sh*t. She had whimpered, sighing against his lips, the fingers of one hand running through his hair, while the other hand grasped his side a little desperately, trying to pull him closer, despite his being glued to the front of her.

“I missed you today,” she’d murmured against his lips as he’d pulled her tank top up her torso, her confession making him feel all f*cking good about himself. She’d moved her lips away from his long enough for him to pull the shirt over her head, then pressed them back to his, kissing him softly. “I couldn’t wait for you to come back tonight.”

The same words coming out of any other woman’s mouth would be too much, too soon, and he would have run for the f*cking hills at that kind of needy ass bullsh*t, but he knew his girl was just being honest. And truth be f*cking told, he’d felt the same f*cking way all day, lame son of a bitch that he was. He just hadn’t been ready to tell her, so he’d settled on grinding his co*ck into her belly, and giving her one of his best, panty dropping, sloppy wet - little bit of teasing with his tongue - kisses, topped off with a low, satisfied moan, so she would at least know he appreciated her sentiment.

_________

Negan glanced down his torso at her, as her gaze flitted up and down between his dick and his face, her embarrassment apparent. f*ck me. I hope we’re not going to have to spend a lot of time talking this out. Scooting back down her body until he was face to face with her again, he ran his lips over hers lightly. “How is it that you’ve gone through life without giving anyone a blow j*b, Gigi?”

“No one ever asked me for one,” she informed him in a matter of fact tone.

“Oh, I’m f*cking asking, Gigi,” he confirmed dramatically.

She didn’t want to tell him Yuri had turned her down when she had wanted to perform oral sex on him because he had felt it would be degrading to her. “You’re not a p*rn star, Gigi. You’re my girlfriend.” Of course he’d told her his opinion for the first time when she’d already had her mouth around the head of his penis, pushing at her forehead to stop her despite the desire in his eyes. She had backed away, confused, not having expected his harsh opposition. She’d been so excited to try something new with him, wanting to please him, and he’d shot her down in the worst way. He had confided in her later, his mother had always been insistent only hookers and p*rn stars would go down on their knees for a man, and any man who'd expect such an act obviously didn't respect women. His confession hadn't eased Gigi's feeling of humiliation in the least.

Aware she had delayed Negan’s impending fun, Gigi reached down between their bodies, wrapping her hand around his length and stroked him firmly. While she felt fairly inept when she compared her level of experience to his, she knew she was good with her hands. She had spent years fine tuning her different techniques, relishing the sight of her husband coming apart at her touch.

“You know I have to do everything perfectly, Negan,” she poked fun at herself. “Will you teach me how to give you a perfect blow j*b?”

His nostrils flared at the feel of her hand working his dick. She may not know how to give head, but she had some magic f*cking fingers to go along with her magic puss*. “You better f*cking believe I will.” Resting his forehead on her cheek for several seconds, he enjoyed the feel of her swirling her thumb around the head of his co*ck, spreading his pre cum over it. Gripping the wet glans in the middle of her palm, she jerked just the tip with minute strokes, squeezing only on the upward motion, causing him to grunt and groan with pleasure. “What are you doing to me, Gigi? f*ck, that’s good,” he praised her, his tone laced with wonder, breath stuttering over her cheek in response to her handiwork.

She kissed him in response, wordlessly thanking him for his appreciation as she continued to massage him. After a few minutes of her attention, Negan reluctantly pulled himself away, intent on schooling his girl in the fine art of co*ck sucking. Getting up off the bed, he grabbed one of the pillows at the headboard. Standing a few feet away, he dropped it between his spread feet as he motioned her to him with his index and middle fingers.

Moving to stand in front of him, Gigi was suddenly aware of his powerful frame looming over her as he stood with his feet apart, shoulders back, studying her. Her heart skipped a beat at his beauty, hazel eyes behind his incredible long lashes, gazing at her with longing.

“I’m gonna need you on your knees,” he ordered lowly.

Her hands on his hips, she lowered herself to her knees, grateful the position didn’t cause any strain on her injury. Feeling awkward with his erection in front of her face, she avoided it by looking up at him, trembling with both excitement and nervousness over what was to come.

His girl’s worry was showing in her posture and on her face. Negan reached down, cupping her chin in his hand and rubbing his thumb back and forth on her cheek to comfort her, murmuring, “Relax, Gigi. You’ll be fine.”

The tone of his voice was one Gigi had only heard a few times, soft and sincere, and the sound of it made her desire to please him, soar. Courage surged through her as she finally broke eye contact and looked at his penis in front of her. “Tell me what you want me to do, Negan.”

“Why don’t you just feel your way around?” he suggested, putting two fingers under her chin to raise it, forcing her to make eye contact with him once more. Wrinkling his nose at her, he gave her a little shiver as he pulled her towards him gently, prompting her, “Take a little taste.”

Her eyes were wide as she listened to his instruction, and he loved how she nodded at him so f*cking earnestly, in confirmation. The fact she wanted so badly to make him happy, while she was quaking with nervousness made him so f*cking proud of her, a sentiment which seemed out of place in the moment. Tell her. He studied her for the longest time, finally making himself push out the words he instinctively knew she needed to hear, “So f*cking proud of you, Gigi, wanting to learn how to do this for me.”

His beautiful f*cking girl’s response was immediate and heartfelt. She laced the fingers of one hand with his on her cheek, squeezing them tightly. A small whimper escaped her as she pressed her forehead and nose into the front of his thigh as if to hide. He felt her breath on his leg as she inhaled deeply through her nose and then exhaled, making a concerted effort to calm herself. Squeezing her fingers affectionately, Negan put his other hand on the top of her head, keeping his palm in place has he used his fingertips to gently massage her scalp, waiting for her to work through whatever the f*ck she needed to work through.

His mind raced as he waited, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he had made a mistake getting involved with this woman who was dragging around a f*ck ton of emotional baggage. Too much baggage. Uncomfortable f*cking baggage. It’s just a f*cking blow j*b, for Christ’s sake. It shouldn’t be such a big f*cking ordeal.

He was seriously starting to question if he wanted to deal with all her sh*t while he was still trying to work through his own sh*t. His sh*t was simple, he reasoned with himself. It was about finding his way as he let go of Lucille, and he was doing a pretty f*cking good job at it. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. Gigi’s sh*t, on the other hand, was about her entire f*cking past. It was getting to be too much.

His cerebral bitch session was inadvertently put on hold when he felt his girl’s nose skim back and forth over his hip bone, causing goose bumps to rise on his skin. Moving parted lips across his abdomen, she started to explore him, kissing, and nipping, poking out her tongue here and there to taste him. When she sucked on the skin at the juncture between his hip and thigh, he groaned, squeezing her hand where it still lay on her cheek, spurring her to use more force. Negan let his head fall back, panting open mouthed at the sensual pain. “Good f*cking start, sweetheart,” he encouraged her.

Gigi felt his penis twitch against her cheek as she mouthed her way towards his center, and she smiled to herself when he gently nudged her in front of his erection with his hand. She found his sense of urgency flattering. Nuzzling his length with her nose, she breathed in his scent, the mix of masculine soap and his natural musk causing arousal to pulse in her core.

Negan heard her breathy moan as she worked, letting him know she was getting caught up in what she was doing. He let out a groan of his own when she licked his balls with a broad tongue to taste him, sucking one into her mouth tentatively. “Perfect,” he praised.

His girl’s response was exactly what he’d hoped for, her enthusiasm and boldness increasing with his verbal reassurance. She sucked on his balls one at a time, rolling her tongue under and over them. She shocked the sh*t out of him when, while lavishing attention on one, she opened her lips wide, and using her index finger she pushed the other into her mouth to suck on both of his balls at once. “f*ck, Gigi!” he grunted, using his hand on the top of her head to pull her into him, forcing her nose into his groin while his fingers of his other hand squeezed hers where they now rested on the front of his thigh.

Her mouth full of Negan, her nose buried in his scent, Gigi was more turned on than she would have thought possible. The intimacy created by filling her mouth with him was exquisite, her excitement heightened by his cursing and moaning. Finally unlacing her fingers from his, she pulled his erection down on a ninety degree angle, pleased to see a trail of pre cum on the tip.

Negan watched her as she studied his co*ck for a moment before her lips surrounded the head. Her tongue rolled around it a few times, cleaning off the fluid. She moved the glans in and out of her mouth several times, applying more pressure with each pass. He growled at her, low and long, impressed with her instincts. “Out-f*cking-standing, Gigi. Can you take more?” He urged her, wanting nothing more than to shove his dick down her throat, her meticulous exploration having served as a major f*cking tease which was making it hard for him to keep himself in check while she was still trying to find her way. His girl immediately complied with his request, eager to please, moving forward and back, taking more of him in.

“f*ck! Open, Gigi!” Negan commanded urgently, his spine curling forward and hips pulling back from her in response to a sudden jolt of pain. Wrapping his fingers underneath her jaw, he pulled at it in an attempt to pry her mouth open. “Teeth, Gigi! f*ck!”

“Teeth?” she repeated curiously after she moved her mouth off him, co*cking her head as she looked up at him, trying to decode his actions and exclamations, knowing she’d done something horribly wrong.

He could feel her upset as she tried to figure out her mistake, so he put the blame on himself, explaining, “I forgot to tell you the most important rule for giving the perfect blow j*b.” Kneading his dick with his fingers to soothe the inflamed skin, he informed her, “You want to wrap your lips around the inside of your teeth so they don’t scrape along my co*ck.” How could she not f*cking know that?

“Oooh!” Gigi’s hand flew to her mouth when she realized what she’d done. “Oww!” She could imagine how her teeth must have felt on his sensitive skin, the idea of it making her shudder in sympathy. “I’m sooo sorry!”

“Not your fault,” Negan shook his head. “f*ck.” He rubbed a particularly sore spot on his co*ck, chuckling at the mishap.

Gigi’s concern turned into amusem*nt, and she tried to stifle a grin as she inquired with a wink, “You want me to kiss it and make it better?”

“Yes, I f*cking do, sassy,” he replied indignantly.

Ready to go at her again, he moved his hips forward, holding his co*ck in position with one hand as he wrapped his other hand around the back of her head. Her mouth opened without hesitation, like a baby f*cking bird’s, her lips sliding behind her teeth as he pushed his dick slowly into her mouth. Fuuuuuck me.

Trying not to gag her, he pushed in until he felt the head start to skim the back of her palate, and then pulled back. His girl was totally f*cking relaxed, letting him push and pull her as he pleased, which literally tickled his balls.

Feeling no resistance from her, he started moving with purpose, moaning at the sensation of her wet, full lips wrapped around his co*ck, his girl interpreting his responses like a f*cking pro and adjusting the pressure to please him. “My awesome f*cking girl, giving me a perfect f*cking blow j*b,” he grunted as he moved shallowly in her mouth for several strokes, curling his fingers into her hair and using it to move her forward and back on his dick. “Can you suck it for me, Gigi? Suck my co*ck like a good girl?” Negan moaned at the sound of his own filthy suggestion, wanting the prissy f*cking girl on her knees in front of him to suck him dry.

God help her, Gigi wanted to be his good girl. Badly. Purring at his request, she sucked in her cheeks, noisily slurping and sputtering, struggling to find a rhythm to move with him while keeping the suction consistent, determined to be perfect for him even though her lips and her jaw were already tired from the pressure and tension. She deemed her struggle unimportant, his panting and groaning, and the way his head was thrown back in pleasure providing all the motivation she needed to keep going.

Negan began to move more forcefully, occasionally pushing the head of his co*ck into the back of her throat for a second or two, the sound and he feel of her gagging around him, spurring him on. He could see her eyes starting to water, as she dug her fingernails into his ass cheeks with each deep thrust.

He slowed for a moment, backing almost out of her mouth before he pushed into the back of her throat, gently forcing her to stay in place for several seconds when he felt her instinctively try to back off as her oxygen was cut off. She grunted, and gagged, and he let go after a count of five, cooing, “Trust me, sweetheart?” as she tried to catch her breath.

Just as he knew she would, Gigi nodded, assuring him, “I do.” And like the good f*cking girl she was, she looked at his co*ck with determination, ready to take him in again.

“So good for me.” Moving his dick back in front of her lips, he pushed between them once again. She immediately started sucking as he moved in an out, and he pumped with force, finally pushing deep into her throat, letting out a throaty laugh at the feel of the muscles contracting around him, and the sound of her gagging. But his amazing f*cking tiny ass dancer held still, tensing only for a second before she relaxed, her grip on his ass loosening as she gave in to him. Gave in to me. Because she f*cking trusted him.

Pulling back a fraction of an inch to allow her to breath, he gave her several seconds to take in some air before he pushed himself back down her throat, groaning loudly at the thrill of fully controlling her every f*cking breath. His infatuation with the idea possessed him, and he started f*cking her mouth shamelessly, her hair gripped in his fist as he held her in place, sprinting towards his org*sm.

“You okay, sweet girl?” He hoped to f*ck she was as he looked her over for signs of distress.

His prayers were f*cking answered when he heard her mouth full of co*ck grunt out an “Uh, huh,” around him. It was no holds barred from that point on, and he pumped in and out of her mouth at a steady pace.

At some point in the midst of his frenzy, Negan looked down at Gigi. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, her body heaving when her throat contracted while he pushed in deep, over and over, giving her just enough time to take in a breath between each stroke. Tears were rolling down her cheeks from gagging and bit of saliva was running from the corners of her mouth, since she'd had no opportunity to swallow while his co*ck was in her mouth.

The sight of her on her f*cking knees for him, debauched and drooling as she tried so f*cking hard for him shoved him over the edge. He backed up a few inches, positioning his dick so just the tip was in her mouth, having just enough presence of mind to know it would be too much for her if he came down the back of her throat. Too soon.

“Mother f*cking, amazing, co*ck sucking, f*ckity-f*cking woman, my f*cking Gigi,” he rambled as his perfect goddamn girl collected every last drop of his come in her mouth, then swallowed it without prompting. “My f*cking Gigi,” he reiterated, his heart pounding and his breathing heavy as he pulled her off his dick, pushing her head against his groin, caressing the side of her face affectionately as she sucked in deep, noisy breaths, swallowing repeatedly, suddenly having the freedom to do so.

Call him her angst dumping ground, her goddamn emotional baggage handler, or her f*cking puss* ass bitch. It was all f*cking good. He knew he would deal with all her high drama sh*t, because she was his good f*cking girl.

Kneeling down in front of her, he took in her dazed expression as she wiped at her wet chin and eyes with shaking fingers. Knowing he’d overwhelmed her, he sat his ass on the carpet with his back against the side of the bed, stretching his feet out in front of him. “Here, Gigi,” he patted his chest, signaling for her to lay against him, physically guiding her as she moved to straddle his thighs. She scrambled into place as if she couldn’t connect with him fast enough, collapsing against him and burying her nose in his neck.

He had a pleasant flashback to his Lucille, thinking about how she liked to lay chest to chest with him when she wanted to feel more connected to him. He had always liked the closeness they had shared when she was on top of him. His wife and his dancer were so different, physically, though. Lucille had been tall at five foot, nine inches, so he had always laid on his back and she’d stretched out on top of him.

His tiny dancer could curl up in his lap, light as a feather, melting perfectly into his form, no matter what position she was in. He kinda dug how he dwarfed her, and could dominate her with his physical presence alone. Her petite stature created in him a sense of protectiveness, and a strange f*cking desire to coddle and pamper her. So very, f*cking f*cked over this woman.

Running his fingertips up and down Gigi’s spine, he murmured sweet nothings to her, telling her what a great job she’d done and listing off the things he’d liked about her blow j*b, knowing she needed the validation.

What he had going on with this woman was so different than any relationship he’d had in the past. While a few of the women he had slept with were wild cats, letting him do whatever the hell he’d wanted with them, Gigi was different. Those women had let him do anything and everything because they had let anyone do the same to them. It wasn’t because he had been anything special or any more worthy.

Sure, there'd been a certain thrill at dipping his co*ck into a willing ass, or fiercely twisting a woman’s nipples because she’d begged him to. Even so, when it had all been said and done, knowing the women had done the same with everyone else had usually turned him off to a second go round, unless he was drunk and needed a quick lay.

Aside from the few the wild ones, most women he’d f*cked had drawn lines in the sand they weren’t willing to cross. Ever. They’d kept control in the bedroom, despite his being the dominant partner, with their yesses and noes. And there usually were too many f*cking noes. There were strict, hard and fast rules about what they were and weren’t willing to do.

He would have never tried to face f*ck Lucille, because he knew she wouldn’t have let him. She hadn’t liked rough stuff, and when she had given him head, it had always been on her terms. Sex with Lucille had been pretty good, but he had never been allowed within a one inch radius of her asshole, his dick never had the pleasure of titty f*cking her ample breasts, and he hadn’t been allowed to come in her mouth. Not even on his f*cking birthday. Luckily, there had been plenty of other things to keep their sex life fairly satisfying for twenty plus years.

The woman in his arms was different than all the other women in his life. He was still trying to figure her the f*ck out, but it was clear she liked she liked him taking control of her. She let him gag her with his co*ck because he liked doing it, and she wanted to make him happy. In his mind, the best part was she hadn’t let anyone else do it. He wasn’t one of a few dozen guys who’d slid their co*cks down her throat. He was the only guy.

As he pondered his girl, he ran his fingers down her spine, and between the crack of her ass, following its line to the back of her puss*, where he dipped his fingers into her folds, humming with satisfaction at the fact she was soaked. Sure, he could feel the moisture where her puss* rested on the crease between his thighs, but he needed to play in it to reassure himself she’d enjoyed herself. He needed to know she wasn’t just letting him do whatever the f*ck he wanted even though she hated it. He needed to know she got off on his pleasure, and maybe she just happened to get off on the same stuff he did.

Gigi squirmed as he skimmed his fingers over her cl*t, panting a few times as she pushed herself down into his fingers.

“Are you my good f*cking girl?” Negan whispered, kissing the top of her head. What the f*ck just came out of my mouth? The words sounded foreign to him when there wasn’t a hard on and some healthy lust inspiring them.

She was quiet for a moment before she responded thoughtfully, reminding him of her sentiment from the night before, “I really like being your good girl, Negan.”

Again, the f*cking honesty. Sitting up straight and pushing at her with his chest so she would sit up as well, he wrapped one arm around her back, and cradling her head with his other hand he kissed her hungrily in response to her confession. There was something about his girl, this intelligent, classy, beautiful woman, wanting to be good for him, wanting to make him happy, which pleased the f*ck out of him.

Breaking their kiss, he looked in her eyes, replying with the first thing that came to his mind. “Thank you, Gigi.”

Big, fat, pathetic ass, f*cking puss* boy.

Chapter 17: Words

Chapter Text

Gigi found it more than pleasant, waking up to feel of Negan’s semi-erect penis nestled in the crack of her bum, his hand running up and down her bare side, fingers exploring, dipping down into the curve of her waist before rising again with the swell of her hip. They had moved to the bed on his prompting, after she’d started dozing off on his chest, and she had fallen asleep on her side with him spooning her.

She purred a little “Mmmmm,” to let him know she was awake, and was enjoying his attention. It was still dark outside, the digital clock and white noise app on her phone on the nightstand displaying 2:12 AM in a calming blue hue. She wondered if he had been lying awake since they’d gotten into bed, or whether he’d recently awakened. His fingers skimmed from her breast down to her belly, and then lower, where he lightly caressed her mons. His breathing in her ear was becoming more pronounced, and she could feel his erection growing as his hips canted gently to slide it up and down her cleft. She welcomed his fervor, despite the hour.

After he’d come in her mouth, she’d felt worn out, as well as a bit discombobulated. It was almost as if the intensity of their fooling around had made her brain and her emotions to go haywire, and she had needed time to snap out of it. She’d felt unusually needy, wanting to stay on his lap forever, and it hadn’t seemed liked he’d minded. It was if he’d understood her frame of mind, and he'd taken the time to feed her what she’d needed to settle herself.

She loved pleasing him, and she loved learning exactly what to do to please him. She got turned on by turning him on. Her own arousal had been ignited by performing the blow j*b, but since she’d been out of sorts when it was over, she hadn’t been in a place to seek out her own satisfaction. She’d fallen asleep longing for her new playmate.

Lifting her top leg, she bent it at the knee, laying it over the outside of his thigh to spread her folds open for him, and she sighed when he wasted no time, his fingers immediately moving to tease her cl*tor*s, gliding forward and back along either side of it for several seconds before circling it. She was still wet, the lubrication easing his path along her delicate skin. She couldn’t stop the low keening and whimpering coming out of her mouth.

“Negan … I …” she started, her words trailing off as the pads of his fingers skimmed lazily over a particularly sensitive nerve deep in her folds, her hips moving in opposition of his strokes to heighten the sensation.

“Yes, Gigi?” His soft, slow, graveled timber confirmed he had recently awakened.

Honing back in on her cl*tor*s, he barely skimmed over it, taking her breath away. He skimmed it repeatedly, with torturously slow motions. When she could finally speak, she had no words other than, “Please?”

The sound of an amused huff of breath was his only response. In no apparent hurry, he continued to slowly pet her. Using his middle finger and thumb, he pulled back the hood of her nub then slid the pad of his index finger around the exposed, hyper-sensitive tip. Gigi keened with each stroke, sure she’d died and gone to heaven, and Negan was God’s gift to her for doing some sort of good in her life. Her eyes, which had been open only for a few minutes, drifted shut again while she reveled in her bliss.

“Please what, sweetheart?” he finally murmured in her ear, his voice like velvet, comforting in the quiet darkness.

My Negan. My bliss.

Kissing the sensitive skin just below her ear, he mouthed his way down her neck and across her shoulder. Gigi could feel a smile quirk up the corners of his mouth as she quivered with pleasure. Covering his hand between her legs with her own, she stroked it lovingly, still having no words to praise his efforts or to answer his query.

Now.

Now. She needed him now.

Her sudden sense of urgency to feel Negan inside her seemed odd given the unhurried tempo of his play, but it would not be assuaged. Reaching her hand back and sliding it down between them, she encircled his erection with her fingers. Shifting her hips to tilt her entrance towards him, she pushed back and down on him as he gently thrust forward to meet her.

Now.

Slow and sensual, their hips moved gracefully together and apart while they danced in the dark, panting breaths and the rustling of bed linens the only sounds in the quiet of the night, along with their soft moans. Wrapping an arm around her torso, Negan rolled them gently so he was on his back, Gigi’s back to his chest. He immediately restarted the rhythm of his hips, and the motion of his fingers between her folds after changing their position.

She was at a disadvantage, laying on top of him, with a limited ability to move, relying on him to thrust up into her from underneath, canting his hips over and over at a slow, steady pace. He toyed with her nipples for a time with his free hand, causing her back to arch and her cries to increase in volume. A joyous, sensual laugh escaped from deep within her at the feel of his kisses on the side of her face, his fingers pleasuring her, and him filling her so completely. When she turned her head to look at him he was smiling with her, sharing her joy.

There was no hip snapping, no filthy talk, no pounding, no cursing, just soft, sweet and languid. There was nothing overwhelming other than the pleasure he was evoking and how she was feeling about her new lover. My lover. Her initial resistance to the phrase had disappeared, and she found herself infatuated with it.

Gigi finally found her words, and they started pouring out of her, a stream of consciousness in the form of disjointed whispers and murmurs in between her whimpers and cries.

“Mmm. Love this”

“So good”

“way you feel”

His fingertips, so gently caressing just the right spot with just the right pressure was driving her higher and higher as his hand started to move more quickly. Caught up in her own rambling, and the fire in her core, it took her some time to realize his breathing was increasing, laced with small grunts and growls as her accolades and endearments went on.

“Just divine”

“perfect inside me”

“Ohhhh, Negan"

The more Gigi revealed, the more precious, involuntary, breathy responses she received in return, so she continued to vocalize her feelings, her hand on the side of his face, turning his mouth to her ear so she would hear every wonderful sound spilling from his lips.

“My Negan”

Sappy, romance novel words were escaping from her, divulging feelings which she hoped weren’t too sentimentalto share.

“Beautiful man" she professed in a gush of breath.

He growled at her utterance, hand suddenly clutching at her hip, fingers digging in, trying to angle her back to him more so he could thrust deeper. His thighs clenched together, allowing his hips to rock more freely. His staccato breaths became more heavily infused with the sounds of his desire. Moans and whispered curse words tickled the shell of Gigi’s ear as his fingers continued to thrill her. It was becoming more difficult for her to speak, her whimpers and cries uncontrollable as she closed in on her org*sm.

“my Negan”

“Mine”

With one long, low groan Negan curled his hips up into her with zeal, thrusting more deeply as he started to come.

“Again,” he grunted, more a request than a demand.

“Mine” she complied, speaking from her heart. “My Negan."

Gigi felt his head start to push back into the pillow, his lips pulling away from her ear. His hips jerked and fingers twitched, and she pulled him back to her, keeping his mouth close. She wanted to hear his climax. She needed to hear how she made him feel.

His fingers had slowed and stopped moving between her thighs while he came, but it was only seconds before they started moving again, even as he was still groaning in his release. His panting, and the feeling of him pulsing inside her, along with the restart of his skilled fingers after their short break was all Gigi needed to push her into her own climax. She had been so caught up in her passion, she hadn’t had the time to worry about her org*sm. It just happened. Needing more of him, she turned her head, pressing her lips to his as her hips spasmed and jerked.

My perfect.

Gigi lay on Negan, coming down from her high, relaxed and contented. His hand disappeared from between her thighs, flopping onto the bed next to him. A minute later his other hand pulled off of her hip and made its way underneath the pillow supporting his head.

He rolled her after only a few more moments, leaving her on her side and rolling onto his back again. Thirty seconds later he squirmed, and then bent to his side opposite her to scratch an itch on his knee, all of his movement scooting him a few inches away from her on the bed.

His body language was clear. Her words had been too much for him. She didn’t panic and she didn’t chide herself. There was no way she could have known. “Was it too much for you?” she guessed, shifting to her back, several inches from him to give him his space, but turning her head to look at him in the dim light of her phone.

“f*ck, yes,” he objected, more vehemently than she would have expected. Or liked.

“I get it, Negan,” she reassured him, trying hard not to take offense. “I still have so much to learn about you, about your likes and dislikes.” Reaching out to run her finger along his arm, she stopped herself, pulling her hand back because she didn’t want to force herself into his space. He gave her no response, so she teased, “Like learning not to scrape your penis with my teeth,” trying to lighten the mood.

She heard his soft chuckle, as he reached up to scrub at the beard on his face with his fingers. He rolled to the far edge of the bed, and she held her breath, worried he was going to get up and leave. She exhaled soundlessly when he settled himself on his side, his back to her, fluffing his pillow.

Gigi got up from her side of the bed, walking into the bathroom to get a drink of water, pondering his response. She walked back into the bedroom, glass in hand, standing four feet in front of him as he lay with his eyes closed. She took another sip of her water, studying his still form.

“It made you uncomfortable. But you liked it?” she pressed, already knowing the answer. The question was whether he knew the answer.

“I’m not going to f*cking discuss this to death, Gigi,” he advised her indignantly.

She smiled to herself in the dark. He knew the answer. He just didn’t like the answer. “Okay,” she replied amiably as she walked back to the bathroom sink to deposit her cup.

She crawled back into bed with him, laying a few inches away from him on her back, just in case he turned towards her. If she faced him she could look pushy. If she laid with her back to him, he might think she was angry, so laying flat on her back would look neutral, right?

She layin the quiet,waiting to see if he would turn to her, internally chastising herself for being pathetic and needy. As she started to doze off, she gave up, rolling onto her side, facing the dresser beside the bed. Within a few seconds she felt him move on the mattress behind her, and she stifled a purr when his hand snaked around to her belly and pulled her against him while he wriggled to press himself to her back.

“I don’t know what to do with that kinda sh*t Gigi,” he murmured against the back of her crown.

She nodded minutely in response, so as not to disturb him, enjoying the cuddling she’d needed after her org*sm. “I know,” she reassured him. As the minutes went by,she heard his breathing even out. Her own sleep wasn’t far behind.

My Negan.

Chapter 18: Monday, Monday, Can't Trust That Day

Chapter Text

“What the f*ck?” Negan’s head whipped to the left as he navigated the access road around Mount Vernon High School, his eyebrows shooting up at the sight of his football field. A back hoe, a dump truck and a few other pieces of massive construction equipment were parked at the far edge of the field, outside the running track which circled it, along with several pick-up trucks. There were workers in hard hats and reflective vests wandering the area, some looking at paperwork, others drinking coffee, many unloading equipment and portable fencing from the back of a flatbed truck.

Assuming some emergency gas or water line work needed to be done, he hoped the f*ckers weren’t going to impede his practice. He needed to get his ass out there to talk to whoever was in charge, to make sure the assholes stayed out of his way. This was not the way he wanted to start his day.

Already agitated with the unexpected inconvenience, he was even more pissed when he pulled up in front of the phys ed wing at ten minutes after seven and there was a news van parked at the curb in the spot where he would normally park his charger. The side of the van was lettered with WJLA-TV, the logo of one of the local stations. It was parked right over the middle of two spots, despite only needing one. f*cking twat waffle.

He’d be damned if he was going to drive all the way back to the other side of the building and park in his designated spot, just because some inconsiderate asshole had high jacked his premium spot in front of the door. Driving further down the access road he found a spot and parked, grabbing his duffel bag and locking the door before he jogged towards the field. He was already running late, and would need to go straight to the field to talk to these construction f*ckers before the kids arrived, instead of dropping his stuff in his office like he normally did.

He had woken up tired, so he didn’t have the patience for whatever bullsh*t was going on in his field. He hadn’t gotten much sleep over the weekend, thanks to his new sex toy next door, and last night he’d slept even less than the nights before. He had felt unsettled after Gigi’s amorous soliloquy, his sleep restless even though he’d been curled up with her comforting ass.

When Negan had awakened late, ten minutes before he needed to leave for work, Gigi was already gone. Her bathroom had been wet with humidity and there had been other traces of her morning routine which he’d slept through, and her bedroom had been filled with the scent of citrus and vanilla. He assumed she’d left for work extra early, and he was sort of pissed she hadn’t woken him up to say goodbye, but he was also a little relieved.

As he rounded the concession stand at the edge of the field, he spied the news crew in the middle of an interview. Gigi and Simon were in front of the camera, Gigi speaking animatedly to the field reporter who was interviewing her. Simon, beside her, was nodding thoughtfully at whatever the f*ck she was saying. The coach stopped in his tracks, listening to his girl’s response to the question which had been posed.

“I’m just so grateful I could assist in pulling together the necessary funding to replace the deteriorating track. There wasn’t money in the county budget to fully fund the project, but thanks to a generous donation from the Baryshnikov Foundation, and donations of money and team apparel from my friends at the Under Armour Headquarters in Baltimore …” The dancer raised her hand, palm up, gesturing gracefully to the company’s UA symbol on the front of her new, purple tank top with “Mt Vernon” lettered on the front, as if she were one of the f*cking Price Is Right models showing a contestant their ‘Braannd Neeww Carrrr!’, “… we are breaking ground today on a brand new track!”

What the sh*t? What the sh*t! What new track?

Negan fumed even as he watched his picture perfect girl nail her interview. She was a pro, a natural with her answers, while wearing the Under Armour shirt along with UA stamped shorts and running shoes he hadn’t seen before. She was beautiful, her hair down instead of in the usual ponytail or messy bun she wore to work, her waves and curls falling at her shoulders. She had taken the time to put on some makeup, which was atypical. Her skin was normally fresh and bare, with just a little of that black gunk on her eyelashes to accentuate them. Simon was standing next to her, wearing the school’s colors in the form of a purple and white polo shirt which also sported the high school’s name and the Under Armour logo, his bushy mustache neatly trimmed and combed for a change.

How the f*ck was it they were breaking ground on a new f*cking track, when he hadn’t heard a thing about the new found funding she was listing off? He was going to f*cking pummel Rick for not cluing him in. And how the f*ck did Simon find out about the track when the head of the f*cking phys ed department, and the entire Mount Vernon universe for that matter, didn’t even f*cking know? The man had only been back in town for four days, for f*ck’s sake. f*ck to the goddamn f*cking f*ck!

“Gigi Sokolov is like a tiny miracle, dancing into our lives,” his college buddy spoke passionately into the camera. “My track and field program was crumbling, right before my very eyes …” Simon gestured to a spot on the track close by, which had some large cracks due to decay. “… and she pirouetted in to save it, along with 3M, who donated the needed polyurethane surfacing material. We also need to thank Walker Construction, who has been kind enough to do the work at a discounted rate. I just couldn’t be more thrilled!”

Gigi, the reporter and the camera man all laughed at Simon’s comic relief. The reporter finished up with the duo, asking to do a solo interview with Gigi. Simon caught sight of Negan standing to the side, and headed over to talk to his friend.

“Mornin’!” the track coach greeted him enthusiastically. “Did you catch our interview?”

“Yeah,” the football coach responded crisply, challenging, “I’m just curious as to how the f*ck everyone but me knew construction on our new track was going to start today. I didn’t even know there was going to be a new f*cking track!”

Simon brought his hand to his mouth, running his spread thumb and index finger down over the sides of his mustache to smooth them, trying to buy himself some to time to figure out how to answer the question. “Umm, well, when I asked Gigi if you would be here for the interview this morning she told me she had tried to pin down a time to talk to you about it, but you guys never got around to it. I assumed she meant she hadn’t had time to talk to you about the interview, not that she hadn’t talked to you about the new track.”

The track coach stood with his hands on his hips, wondering how the new teacher had managed to fund the new track and coordinate the start of construction with Rick and the county, without discussing it with the department head. Bad move on the ballerina’s part. Negan did not take well to surprises.

“Well, you assumed f*cking wrong,” the man in question retorted irritably, even though Simon wasn’t the cause of his anger. Negan stormed off, determined to find out just how the construction company planned to demolish the old track and build a new one, without getting in the way of his practice.

As he passed by the tiny pain in the ass cheerleading coach and the news reporter, he could hear her discussing the differences between her dance career and her new teaching career, her enthusiasm for her new athletic endeavor apparent. “I just love it! There is something about working with my students, coaching their dancing and tumbling, that is so satisfying.”

“Do you think you’ll ever go back to dancing ballet?” the woman inquired. Negan slowed his pace, wanting to hear his pain in the ass’s answer.

“I ask myself that question every day,” Gigi revealed. “But I won’t be doing any serious dancing until I have corrective surgery on my knee.”

Liar, liar, pants on f*cking fire. Negan smirked at her deception, picking up his pace again, tuning out the rest of the pair’s back and forth until he was out of earshot.

“Hey!” he bellowed when he reached the group of construction vehicles at the far end of the field. Remembering there were tv cameras close by, he brought his volume level down several notches. “Who’s in charge here?”

“I am,” a tall, balding man in a flannel shirt looked up from his clipboard and walked over to Negan. “Tobin Walker,” he introduced himself. “What can I do for you?”

“You wanna tell me how the f*ck you plan to stay out of the way of my football practice while you tear up and rebuild my track?” May as well get right to the f*cking point.

“Your track?” the foreman questioned him in a friendly tone. “Ohhhh. You must be Negan! Head of the department, right?”

“And you know this, how?” Yes, it’s my f*cking track. Negan didn’t like the doughy asshole already.

“Misses Sokolov told me you’d be showing up for practice about this time. No worries about us getting in the way. She made it very clear we needed to make sure our work didn’t impede your football practice!” the man shared, his tone conveying his sincerity. “No ifs, ands or buts!”

“Oh, really.” The coach gave the tiny pain in the ass a few points for filling dough boy in.

“Yes, sir,” the man responded. “She made it very clear we would have to answer to her if you had any complaints.” He leaned in closer to the coach, confiding, “She’s such a sweet lady, that one, but I get the feeling I wouldn’t want to get on her bad side.”

“You are so f*cking right about that,” Negan commiserated, pissed as all get out about the sh*t show on his field. Knowing what a pill she’d been the last time they had been at odds with each other, he wasn’t looking forward to discussing the matter with her, because they were going to discuss it in a big f*cking way. When he was ready.

________

She wasn’t surprised when he barely looked at her during the PE department’s ten o’clock meeting to go over details for gearing up for the new school year. Gigi had known it would be a problem she and Negan had never discussed the aftermath of their meeting with Phillip Blake, and the steps she’d taken to compensate for the loss of his yearly donation to the physical education department.

Her mind had gone into overdrive when Negan had advised her Penny Blake was going to be put back on her cheerleading squad whether she liked it or not. Unable to accept the Mean Girl and her bad attitude would be forced on her, she had started formulating her plans to ensure Mount Vernon would not only get it’s new track, but would also be able to sever its ties with the district attorney.

Before their meeting with the Blake, Gigi had made some phone calls, determined to find a way around his donation. She could have easily donated the money herself, but knew it would be a conflict of interest. She also knew Negan wouldn’t be happy if he felt she had some sort of advantage over him.

She had called her friend Jessica’s husband, whose daughter had been in Gigi’s ballet class at Irma Horvath’s studio when the dancer had first moved into the area. The woman’s husband was directly involved with appropriations at the county board of education. Gigi had mentioned Negan’s statement about his department not having used all of its budget in the last several years, curious as to whether the money was still available, or whether it was doled out to other departments or schools for other needs. She was thrilled to find out every penny was still available to for Mount Vernon to spend.

Knowing the amount allotted wouldn’t be enough to complete the large job, she had called Misha, and a friend at Under Armour’s global corporate office, securing monetary donations from both, ensuring the school would have the full budget needed for the refurbishment. Her buddy at Under Armour had suggesting talking to 3M about donating the material for the track surface, which she did the following day. Rick had volunteered to call Tobin Walker, a friend whose contracting company specialized in playground and athletic surfaces and construction.

She had worked quickly, and had run to the office to talk to Principal Grimes before Blake arrived. She’d had just enough time to fill him in, and get his blessing, before the district attorney arrived, which meant she hadn’t had time to clue Negan in to the fact they no longer needed to cater to the Blakes. She had been able to feel his anger from across the room as she had challenged the DA repeatedly.

At the time she’d had to trust she would be able to explain everything to the department head after the meeting, but Negan had been so angry with her he had refused to discuss the matter with her, even though she had asked him repeatedly to do so. She had been concerned he was still in the dark, knowing construction was going to start. She hadn’t known him for long, but she had learned enough about the man to know he was even more of a control freak than she was when it came to his work, and would be upset when he showed up at work to find his football field had been invaded. There wasn’t much she could do about the inconvenience, but at least Tobin had offered to get started right away on the project. His crew would break down and haul away the old track before Mount Vernon’s first home game in two weeks, promising to work overtime to have the new track completed in time for the start of cross country season in the fall.

“I just heard the news!” Tara greeted Gig excitedly when she entered the meeting room. “Congratulations on getting Simon his new track!”

“No kidding! Way to go, girl!” Michonne added with an approving nod of her head.

“So who do you know up at Under Armour?” Shane questioned her from his seat at the table next to Paul Rovia. “I went to school with Dan King, who works in their PR department.”

“All right people!” Negan strode into the room, ignoring the teachers' discussion and dropping some folders on the head of the table. “Let’s get started. We need to make this quick, since my schedule has been f*cked for the day by the track construction and the paparazzi fawning all the f*ck over our cheerleading and track coaches.”

Gigi tried not to frown as she listened to the department head cursing in the professional setting. She looked around the table at her workmates to find them smiling and laughing at his foul commentary.

“Swear jar!” Shane reminded him, Simon repeating the command as he walked into the room, while Paul nodded in concurrence. Walsh held out his palm, waiting for the football coach’s money as he turned to Gigi to explain, “The swear jar money pays for Friday night happy hour drinks for the department. Thanks to our colorful department head, we usually have enough money to drink until we all pass out, by the middle of September.”

Negan gave the man the stink eye, pulling his wallet from his back pocket, and throwing a five dollar bill on the table. He started to put it away, but changed his mind, pulling out two more bills. Dropping a second one on the table he taunted, “f*ck you, Walsh.” Then dropping another five he added, “And f*ck you again.”

The staff laughed at the gesture, Paul clarifying, “I think that defeats the purpose of the swear jar, don’t you guys?”

“You want a free f*cking happy hour in two weeks, or not?” the football coach questioned him as he pulled his wallet back out of his pocket, counting out five ones and throwing them at the basketball coach. “Alright, let’s get going …”

________

f*cking noisy f*cking back hoe and jackhammers, making it f*cking impossible to talk to my f*cking players over the f*cking noise. f*ck Misha and his f*cking foundation, donating a ‘generous’ f*cking amount of money. And f*ck Gigi for going around me to make changes in my f*cking department.

________

She bounced into his doorway at lunchtime, looking cute as f*ck, a half-eaten, hard-boiled egg in one hand, and a strawberry with a bite taken out of it in the other. He turned back to his computer screen after looking at her with a blank expression.

“Can we talk about the new track?” she inquired with too much f*cking energy. She was bouncing on her toes as if she wasn’t able to stand still.

“No.”

Gigi was quiet for a minute, before she announced, “You’re cute when you’re all cranky and serious.”

“That baggy tank top makes your tinies look non-existent,” he countered irritably, without looking at her. Sexual harassment isn’t a f*cking thing when you’re f*cking someone.

She laughed uproariously, bouncing gracefully away, and he didn’t see her again until the end of the day.

________

Negan was packed up and ready to go at three thirty, ending practice a half hour early because he had a massive headache from the demolition noise and all the yelling he’d had to do so his instructions could be heard by his players. He’d give dough boy credit, though, they’d broken down and carted away a good chunk of his track in eight hours, and the f*cker had assured him they would stay as late as they could for the next few evenings, so they could get as much done as possible while the field was empty. Maybe Pillsbury wasn’t as bad as he’d initially thought.

Locking the door to his office, he walked across the hall to the doors leading into the gym, hearing the sound of a pop number filtering out of the room. Opening the door and stepping inside, he stood in the doorway watching as the cheerleaders rehearsed what looked like a dance number. Gigi was in the middle of the group, dancing with them, her knee encased in a neoprene brace, Velcro straps holding it tightly in place. Where the f*ck did that come from?

I’m too hot, hot damn

Called the police and a fireman

I’m too hot, hot damn

Make a dragon wanna retire man

His girl was all smiles and energy as she danced with her team, calling out instructions even as she moved.

“Come on, Steph! Show me that tight turn you gave me earlier!”

“Great footwork, Frankie!”

Sometimes she danced the same steps they danced, and other times she would do her own thing, her moves complimenting their choreography. She was f*cking everywhere. Sometimes in the middle of the pack, sometimes in front, facing them, watching them closely even as she moved. From the looks on the kids’ faces, they were enamored of dancing with their coach.

Negan was enamored of her as well. She was the sh*t, his girl, standing out in the crowd, despite her height. It was as if a spotlight was shining on her as she moved, radiant and f*cking perfect, sparkling like glitter in the sunlight. There was something about her. His girl was f*cking magic, and he knew he wasn’t the only one who could see it. It was why Gigi Sokolov was the darling of the ballet world. She exuded happiness, kindness, grace and light, everything Negan was not, his good, f*cking pain in the ass, girl. f*ck her.

He walked along the wall towards the doors to the main hallway as the group finished their number. “Bye Coach!” a few of the kids yelled out to him, others joining in. “Bye!” He raised a hand over his shoulder in response, smirking when he heard one sweet, genuine voice louder than the others, “Bye, Coach! Hope you have a good night!”

The football coach grunted in response.

________

“What’s got yer panties in a twist?” Merle prodded the coach when he ran into him in front of the building. He’d greeted his friend with a “Hey, asshole!” and he was sure he’d heard Negan growl in response.

“Whose panties wouldn’t be in a twist after such a f*cked up day?” the coach snapped in response as he continued to walk.

“Awwww. Poor baby. Should we hit the Keg tonight so you can tell yer best buddy all about it?” Merle sympathized.

“I don’t need your f*cking therapy sessions, dickhe*d.”

“My, my, my. Aren’t we a c*nt today?” the groundskeeper goaded, trying to get more of a rise out of the man.

Negan stopped in his tracks, his head slowly turning to his buddy. Huffing out an exasperated breath he suggested, “Meet me in an hour at the bar? I need a f*cking drink. You’re buying since my wallet’s empty.”

“Got it, sweetheart,” Merle jibed. “Should I bring some Midol?”

Negan restarted the f*cking long ass walk to his car, raising his middle finger at the man over his shoulder. He heard his friend laugh in response.

________

‘Post coital dysphoria - a condition marked by feelings of agitation, melancholy, anxiety or sadness after intercourse, even when it’s good, consensual sex. The condition can last between five minutes and two hours’, Gigi read in the Relationships section of Huffington Post, online.

Anxiety, maybe. Agitation, melancholy, and sadness, no. The strange thing was, the odd feelings she’d experienced had only served to strengthen her feelings for the man who had induced them. She was simply trying to understand them, since they were new to her.

Both Hannah and Marshall were out with friends, so she was eating her dinner at the island in the kitchen, sitting on one of the bar stools, her laptop open in front of her. Using one finger as she scooped up a forkful of salad with her other hand, she typed another query into the Google search bar. ‘Anxiety after sex’. She clicked on the first link which popped up.

‘Sub drop … frequently happens when boundaries are tested’.

He definitely tests my boundaries. Before Negan, she had never experienced the sensation of feeling out of sorts after she’d been intimate. Not that she’d had a lot of sex partners to compare him to. After their middle of the night romp, she hadn’t experienced the sensation, only the new relationship-have I done something wrong and is it big enough to make you dump me-stress which had accompanied his response to her praise.

Gigi had spent her day wondering why, when everything about giving him head had been so lusciously thrilling, she had felt so rung out emotionally, afterwards. She hadn’t been sad, as some of the articles were describing. She more felt like she had been in a fog she’d been struggling to find her way out of, tired, and especially needy.

After reading page after page, she was convinced her ‘post-coital fatigue and anxiety’ resulted from a submissive role she’d taken with Negan during the encounter. When he’d taken charge of her physically, was rough with her, overwhelming her in his dominating, sensual way, she’d experienced the emotional shift afterwards.

It was a new feeling, but not a bad feeling, especially since Negan had spent the time afterwards physically coddling her and praising her. The term for how he’d treated her was aftercare, she read online. His gentle care had brought her out of her fog, and the entire experience had intensified her feelings for him, which had already been heightened when he’d brought her to org*sm. Their weekend full of intimacy had drawn her further into him, hard and fast.

She found it interesting they had more than one relationship dynamic. They had a specific way they interacted with each other at work, where there was an equal amount of push and pull. Even so, he still wanted to be the one in charge, which she’d learned the week before. He had been angry with her for dominating the meeting with Blake and ending the unhealthy ‘take and give’ relationship the man forced on the school, even though it was a win for all involved. While he clearly would have loved to have put the DA in his place, he was angry Gigi had been the one to do it.

She was amused he hadn’t been willing to move forward with her until she had apologized to him. He’d needed her to admit she’d stepped on his toes. Then, and only then, was he willing to look at her, talk to her, and sleep with her. Yet he still hadn’t been willing to let her bring up what had happened at the meeting so they could talk it out.

Gigi smiled at his need to be in control, finding it interesting she was so willing to give it to him in so many regards when she had always insisted on having control in the past. What it boiled down to, was her desire to be in control wasn’t as great at her desire to make him happy. If control was his thing, so be it. If her apology was what he needed so be it. The matter hadn’t been worth the ongoing battle, in her mind.

There was a difference between I’m sorry I stepped on your toes, because it made you unhappy and I’m sorry I stepped on your toes, because I was wrong. She had intimated the former, and given him control, because it made him happy. Giving him what he needed, and being with him, made her happy.

Gigi’s only concern was how he’d pulled away from her when she’d had the nerve to be mushy and romantic with him, telling him how he made her feel. He so clearly had enjoyed the praise, even if it did make him uncomfortable. She definitely needed some romantic and mushy along with the rough stuff. Sighing out loud as she finished the last of her dinner, she closed her laptop, contemplating how she had no idea what was going through his head and no idea when and if they would move forward, after she had upset him the night before and then ticked him off royally by coordinating the new track he’d so desperately wanted for Mount Vernon. God forbid. He is such a princess.

________

“So yer pissed off she saved ya from bendin’ over and handin’ Blake the lube in order to get money out of him, and ‘cause she made sure the construction didn’t interfere with yer games an’ practices?” Merle questioned Negan sarcastically, taking a sip of his beer as he scrutinized his friend. “What a bitch! I get it man, I wouldn’t be able ta put up with sh*t like that, either. No way, no how.” Rolling his eyes at the coach, he grabbed a handful of peanuts out of the bowl on the bar and tossed them into his mouth.

The coach glared in response to his buddy’s sarcasm as he swayed slightly on his barstool, downing the last of his scotch on the rocks and holding up his glass to signal the bartender to bring him another.

“You need ta start drinkin’ rail scotch. That Johnny Walker is takin’ me for broke,” the groundskeeper admonished him. After throwing enough money on the bar to cover the drink he coaxed, “There’s gotta be more to yer story than what yer tellin’ me, man, cause I haven’t heard a damn thing yet that’d shoot yer day all ta sh*t and cause yer foul ass mood, even if it is easy to do.”

“You’re a dick, Merle.” Negan’s tongue was loose enough after two double highballs and three shots of tequila to fill his buddy in on the rest of his unease. “But there is more to the story.”

“Oh, yeah? Do tell, amigo.” He couldn’t wait to hear what had really happened between his friend and Gigi. It was clear something the dancing pixie had done was eating at the man’s craw, and since the redneck was fairly sober, he was enjoying the man’s boozed up confessions.

“So when did I start f*cking around with her, Merle?” Negan questioned him, launching into his tail of woe. “It’s Monday, right? Yeah, it’s Monday.” He held up his hand between them as he spoke, studying his five spread fingers very seriously. After wiggling them several times, the coach figured out how to curl his thumb and pinky into his palm, leaving three fingers in the air and announced, “Three days ago! Three f*cking days ago.”

“And?”

“Aaannnd, last night she went crazy on me.”

“Crazy, how?” Merle prompted him. Gigi didn’t seem like the psycho type, but he knew most women didn’t show their true colors until after they had reeled a man in with a good piece of ass.

The coach looked at him incredulously, as if he should already understand the problem. “She started talking all nice to me.” Feeling as if he’d poured his heart out, and couldn’t discuss the matter any further, Negan took a sip of his new drink, shaking his head.

“I can see why that’d piss ya off,” his buddy commiserated with a smirk. “What kinda nice?”

“Ahh, Jesus! It was baaad. She started tellin’ me how great my dick feels and how pretty I am, do you f*cking believe that?”

“Seriously?” the groundskeeper feigned shocked disbelief, wondering how accurate his buddy’s statements were. He couldn’t imagine Gigi saying the words, “Your dick feels great.”

“f*ck, yes!” Negan confided vehemently to his new ally. “And then she started calling me hers. Hers! What the f*ck, Merle? ‘My Negan!’ She said that sh*t to me!”

The groundskeeper stifled a laugh, his expression serious as he inquired. “Well, what’re you gonna do about it, pretty boy?”

Negan vacillated between looking exaggeratedly offended by his new nickname and conflicted as to what to do about Gigi, finally asking, “I don’t know, man. What would you do?”

“What would I do? Well, now, let me think about it. Ya know I had a gal start talkin’ sweet like that ta me the first week I was datin’ her, talkin’ about settlin’ down and sh*t, so I know what you’re goin’ through,” he teased the man.

“What’d you do?” the coach looked at his friend as if he wouldn’t be able to settle the matter without his sage advice.

“I dumped her ass.” He had dumped her, and then taken her back two days later when she’d offered him one of her premium blow j*bs. He could handle her possessive sweet nothings if it meant he’d get a good blow j*b.

“Really? So you think I should dump her ass?” Negan thought about it for a moment and then countered with a vitally important concern, “But she’s so f*cking hot, man.”

“She is that,” his buddy concurred. “And you know what else?”

The coach simply shook his head vigorously at his friend, waiting for the answer.

“She’s got the magic puss*, my friend. Those only come along once in a lifetime. You wanna think twice before you throw that away.”

“Yeeeessssss! The magic puss*! She’s got magic f*cking hands, too, Merle,” Negan disclosed before he quizzed, “And you know what else?” He didn’t wait for his buddy’s reply before he answered, “She’s f*cking sparkly!”

Merle didn’t know what the hell his friend was really trying to say, but he actually understood the sentiment. Gigi was something special. “Yeah she is, man.”

The football coach was quiet for a minute, contemplating his dilemma. “You’re absolutely f*cking right!” he concluded. He was quiet for several more seconds before he decided, “Since I need her magic f*cking puss*, I’m just gonna have to f*cking tell her she can’t say nice sh*t to me anymore to me if she wants me to keep her around!”

Merle nodded thoughtfully before he agreed, “Makes sense to me, amigo.”

________

Gigi was straightening the family room up when a knock at the sliding glass doors behind her startled her, making her jump. She turned around to find Merle, standing outside on her deck. Giving him a big smile, she motioned for him to come in, greeting him, “Hey! What’re you doing here?”

“Hope ya don’t mind,” Merle questioned. “I was next door puttin’ Negan to bed, and I thought I’d come by an’ say hi instead a callin’ ya.”

“Of course I don’t mind!” Gigi assured him. “Sit down! Can I get you something to drink?”

“Ya got any coffee?”

“Sure do.” She moved to her Keurig, next to the sink, and dropped a fresh pod into the machine. Putting a tall mug under it, she pressed the start button. “So what trouble were you boys getting into, that you had to put Negan to bed?” She had smelled beer when Merle had walked by her, so she assumed they’d been drinking.

“He had a few too many at the Kozy Keg,” the groundskeeper informed her. “So I got him home, dumped his ass in bed, and then came over here ta hit ya up for coffee.”

“You drove after drinking?” she raised an eyebrow at him.

“Nah. We always take an Uber or a taxi when we know we’ll be poundin’ down drinks. He wasn’t fallin’ down drunk. I just had ta make sure he got inta bed okay. He was fallin’ asleep in the car since he was so loaded.”

“At seven thirty at night?” she laughed at the thought.

“Your boyfriend had quite a few drinks,” Merle tested Gigi, to see what her response would when he raised the subject of her and Negan’s relationship.

“You wanna know how I’ll respond to the word boyfriend?” She called him on his amateur detective work, picking up the finished coffee and walked over to sit it in front of him.

“Maybe.” He poured sugar in his coffee and stirred while he waited for her response.

“I don’t know if we should get into that, Merle,” she advised him honestly. “Negan is your friend, so it probably would be best if we didn’t discuss what’s going on between him and me. I wouldn’t want either of you to think I’m trying to divide your loyalty.”

“He is ma friend, Gigi,” he responded. “I know Negan better’n anyone I’ve ever known in my life, other’n Daryl. And sometimes I think I know more about Negan than I do Daryl, since Daryl keeps everythin’ close ta the vest.”

The dancer was quiet, waiting to hear what he wanted to say. He’d obviously brought the topic up for a reason. She grabbed her glass of wine from the coffee table and joined him, sitting on the stool next to him, waiting for him to go on.

Merle studied the woman as she drank her wine. They’d become buddy-buddy pretty quickly, sharing some serious personal stuff, and he trusted her. If she wasn’t on the up and up, he was certain he would have heard some of his own secrets coming back to him from his drunk buddy at the Keg earlier. Even so, he still wasn’t going to spill Negan’s secrets. He found himself at a loss, not sure how to continue.

“He ain’t an easy man ta get along with, unless ya know what makes him tick,” he found himself explaining, beating around the bush. “One thing I’ve learned about him is sometimes it takes him awhile ta work things out. Stuff pisses him off, an’ he acts like an asshole fer awhile. He’s gotta think on things fer a bit. Work ‘em out in his head.”

He finally looked up at Gigi, finding her intent on what he was telling her, so he went on, “The man’ll be pissy for a week, cranky as sh*t. But once he works things out in his head, he’s done with it and he acts like nothin’ was ever wrong.”

Gigi looked at him thoughtfully. She needed to leave Negan alone, as much as she wanted to insist he talk things out with her. She had tried pushing him once before and it hadn’t worked. As much as she wanted to settle things and move on, it sounded like he needed to work on things in his own mind before he’d be able to work them out with her. “So when he’s acting like a jerk, you just let him blow off steam, and wait for him to get over himself?” she deduced.

“Pretty much,” Merle validated. “Not that I don’t aggravate the piss outta him in the mean time.” He chuckled at the thought. “I just try not ta pluck at him too much about whatever is pissin’ him off.”

“Got it.”

“Good, ‘cause I’ve had enough a that asshole fer one day. You gotta finish tellin’ me what happened when you an' Carol went out drinkin’ after that Christmas show in New York.”

“That’s right!” Gigi squealed. “I forgot I started to tell you that story! I’ll tell you about a whole different side of Mount Vernon’s home economics teacher!”

Chapter 19: One f*cking Step At A Time

Chapter Text

Negan was so used to seeing Gigi and Merle sharing coffee in her office in the mornings, he was surprised when he walked by the cheerleading coach’s door at five after seven and found it closed, her dry erase board still declaring, “I’m out!!!” in hot pink magic marker from the day before. He knew she hadn’t come into work yet, since the message had not been changed, the heart dotting the middle of three exclamation points still slightly lopsided, as it had been at the end of the day before. There also was no cup of coffee on the floor in front of his door, sitting on a brown napkin with a personal drawing in purple magic marker.

She still hadn’t arrived when he walked by her office to go out to the football field at seven twenty-five, her door still closed. Deciding she must have slept in since cheerleading practice didn’t start until nine o’clock, he assumed he would see her at lunchtime.

Negan was almost finished the sandwich he’d brought for lunch, when he realized Gigi hadn’t bounced in to see him. Huh. He was sure she would pop by and ask if they could talk, and he’d been ready to tell her no, because he wasn’t quite ready to get into things with her.

The football coach left work at four, after a noisy but productive day. He had spent some time talking to the doughy one, and had looked over the blue prints and specs for the track. Gigi had really come through in getting the surface material for the track donated by the manufacturer. With Blake’s donation, the school would have only been able to afford a second tier synthetic surface, not the top of the line polyurethane material which was being installed. His girl’s efforts had ensured Mount Vernon would have a state of the art running track, superior to the other schools in their county.

A few of Simon’s track students had stopped by, prompted by their coach’s email to the track team a few days before announcing the new track and advising them to watch the WJLA five o’clock news to see their rock star track coach nail his tv interview. The kids’ excitement had been infectious, and Negan had chuckled at their jumping and hollering, one boy shouting, “University of Virginia, here I come!” Devon was Mount Vernon’s best sprinter, and was counting on a scholarship in track so he could afford to go to college.

The coach made himself some dinner after he took a shower, grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge and headed out to his deck to eat and look at the football team’s schedule of home and away games, so he could coordinate bussing to transport the team and cheerleaders to the other schools. Of course he was also waiting for Gigi to come outside for her five o’clock swim. The f*cking sap in him had missed being with her for the last two days after being on top of, under and inside her for the entire f*cking weekend. There was something about helping his girl find her way, and sharing some of her sexual firsts which had done him in, firmly cementing his place as Gigi’s big, fat, f*cking puss*.

What a fan-f*cking-tastic weekend it had been. He’d come out of it with a sense of calm and contentment he hadn’t felt since Lucille had gotten sick. It was as if his emotions had been in a blender for months, with some sad*stic bastard hitting the pulse button regularly just to f*ck with him. All the madness was over, and he was feeling his way out of the dark into the light with a woman who was crawling out of the same hole, someone who could relate to what he was going through, which was comforting.

Negan was going to wait for his dancer to finish her swim and see if she wanted to talk out all the bullsh*t they’d been at odds about at work. When he had taken the time to think it all over, Gigi meant well. She did. If she could just bounce her damned ass around with her cheerleaders, and leave him to look after the department, they would get along just as well at work as they did in the bedroom.

Distracted by his scheduling, the coach finally realized it was ten after five, and Gigi hadn’t come out for her swim. Knowing his girl’s OCD habits, he could guarantee she wasn’t swimming today or she would have been in the water by now. He finished up his work and headed inside.

_________

“What an amazing accomplishment, Gigi!” Paul Rovia toasted her with his lager. “You got the department out from under Blake’s thumb, and cinched a better track than we would have ever been able to afford.”

The pair was sitting in Terminus, a trendy bar and grille on the outskirts of Old Town Alexandria, built in the shell of an 1800’s railroad terminal which had been gutted by fire a century before. Contractors had kept the industrial feel of the building, refurbishing the interior and turning it into a mini mall for small, locally owned boutiques, coffee shops and specialty food stores. The place was always hopping.

Sharing some appetizers to go along with their drinks, at one of the bar area’s tall co*cktail tables, Gigi was thoroughly enjoying her night out with her new friend. They had made their dinner date to discuss the self-defense class they were going to offer one evening a week at the high school. She found the soccer coach easy to talk to, and the two of them had been chatting nonstop, as if they had known each other for years. Well into their evening, they had yet to talk about their ideas for the class. She shrugged off his kudos. “I just made a few phone calls. Our donors made the project a possibility.”

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short. It takes a lot of work to cultivate the kind of relationships needed for a business to open their wallets and donate that kind of money.”

“Thanks, Paul,” Gigi appreciated what he was saying, and she knew her feat was noteworthy, but the fact it had stirred up problems with Negan had been dulling her excitement over the accomplishment.

The man across the table studied her for a moment before he finally inquired lightly, “Soooo, Negan giving you a hard time about stealing his thunder?”

The dancer hedged with her answer, not wanting to gossip about her boss, or her lover. “You know we really haven’t talked about it. Too busy with back to school preparations and practices.”

Paul took a drink of his beer, and then another, before he surmised, “It must be difficult coming in to a new job where you’re working under the man you’re in a new relationship with.” He watched Gigi hesitate as she dipped a spoon in the salsa one too many times to transfer some to her plate, trying to buy herself some time to come up with a response to his probing.

“I was one of the last people at Negan’s on Friday night,” he explained, “down on the dock for the last couple of hours, talking with Tara. I saw Negan head over to your place in the early morning hours. I guess he thought everyone was gone.”

“So Tara also ...” Gigi started, half sick at the thought two people knew what was happening between her and Negan. He had been at her house for quite a while that night, so it would be obvious he was there for a reason. Her worry about the possibility of problems at work, as well as an unwelcome social media frenzy swirled around in her head.

“No!” the soccer coach cut across her, trying to ease the panic she was trying to hide. “Tara had her back to him. I kept her talking until Negan was inside. We left before he came back out.”

“Thank God. I …” she floundered. “Can I ask a favor of you?”

“Can you ask me to keep what I saw to myself?” he predicted. “You don’t need to ask, Gigi. I would never share your private business with anyone.”

“Thank you, Paul.”

He raised his hand, waving away her thanks. “My friends call me Jesus.”

“Well then thanks, Jesus,” she corrected herself with a smile.

“I’m not trying to butt into your business,” he reassured her, softly. “I guess I just want you to know I’m a great listener, if you need one. I’ve been working at Mount Vernon for a handful of years now, so I’ve learned how to navigate the waters around our department head so as to avoid making waves.”

“So it takes years?" she smirked. "I’ve actually already had some on the job training in the art of puss* footing around the department head. I don’t puss* foot very well, apparently.” Both teachers chuckled, shaking their heads at the quandary known as Negan.

Gigi found it amusing both Merle and Jesus felt they should offer her advice as to how to handle Negan, and Michonne and Tara had mentioned how difficult he could be. The only person who hadn’t weighed in the matter was Simon, and she suspected it was due to the men’s' long-time relationship.

“I may need your advice at some point,” the dancer smiled once more, squeezing Paul's hand where it lay on the table. “But right now I want to talk about something other than work. Try outs and practice have been crazy. I need a break from the madness.”

“I don’t blame you,” her date reassured her. “Why don’t you tell me all about working with Mikhail Baryshnikov! Will you see him when he’s in town for the Kennedy Center Honors this weekend?”

“Yes! You're familiar with the honors ceremony?” Gigi gushed. “I am so excited to get dressed up and go to the ceremony and the gala afterwards!”

“There’s a gala?” he queried, picking up his menu when their waiter Gareth approached the table to take their dinner order. “Hey, should we split an order of ribs?” He looked at her for confirmation.

“That sounds amazing,” the dancer agreed.

“They’re my personal favorite,” the server informed them. “They’re sourced locally, you know.”

________

So what if he had stepped out onto his own f*cking deck several times since the sun had gone down? He enjoyed spending time out there. And so what if he had glanced over at his neighbor’s house to see if any lights were on in Gigi's bedroom indicating she was home? Negan could see light shining through the sliding doors which lead into the kitchen and family room, and he could see lights on behind the window on the front corner bedroom, closest to his house, which was likely one of the kids’ rooms. There was no light coming through the French doors of the master bedroom, so unless Gigi was watching tv in the family room, she wasn’t home yet.

And so what if he’d looked up her f*cking cell phone number online in the school’s faculty directory in the private, staff-only section of Mount Vernon’s website and saved it into his cell phone in case he wanted to casually text her in a little bit to see if she’d be home soon so they could talk? He’d been meaning to give her his number, so texting her would save her the trouble of looking his number up if she needed it, wouldn’t it? He wondered if she’d thought about looking up his number.

Where the f*ck is she tonight? She’s always f*cking home after work.

________

At nine fifty-eight Negan opened his texting app, hitting Gigi’s name in his contacts and typing a short message.

It’s Negan.

Can we talk?

No f*cking way. Sounds too ominous. That kind of message could cause a woman to freak the f*ck out before she even knows what she’s freaking out about. He hit the backspace button twenty-four times and mulled over alternate wording before he typed in a new message at one minute after ten.

Hey, it’s Negan.

You busy?

Better. Sounds like I don’t know she's not home. But what the f*ck would she be busy doing at ten o’clock at night? That’s just a stupid f*cking question. Hitting the backspace button repeatedly, he decided he didn’t need his name in the message. She would figure out who the f*ck was messaging her. Or would she?

Hey, missed you

the last few days.

He reviewed his message, and chastising himself zealously for sounding puss*-whipped, he thought about adding, ‘And I’ve obviously grown a f*cking vagin* because your goddamn magic puss* has f*cked me in the head.’

Nah, too much typing. What the hell am I thinking? Missed you? What the f*ck, Negan? Missed your pretty, shaved cooze, maybe. Missed pounding your sweet snatch, perhaps. Backspace, backspace, backspace, backspace, backspace, backspace, backspace. If you just hold the button down it keeps going on its own? Sweet! How the f*ck did I not know that? Dumb ass. Damn, my balls itch.

At ten after ten he mulled over his latest message, reaching down to scratch the itchy f*ckers.

My good girl-

Want some

company?

Not foreboding. Not too puss*fied. Obvious who it’s from. The coach stared at the words for several seconds, index finger hovering over the send button. f*ck it. I’ll just talk to her tomorrow. Backspace, backspace … He was staring so intently at the phone, it startled the sh*t out of him when it suddenly rang, Merle’s name in large letters, and a photo of him flipping the camera the bird, announcing the caller’s identity on the screen. The picture made Negan chuckle every time his friend called.

“What’s up?” he answered, chuckling at both the photo and being caught off guard.

“Hey, pretty boy,” the groundskeeper responded. “What time are we leavin’ fer the game on Saturday?” The coach had scored excellent seats for a Terrapins game at his alma mater, so he, Merle, Daryl and Walsh were going to cruise up to College Park together in the late afternoon and booze it up before the game.

“I’m thinking four, asshole. Figure we'll get some chow and drinks at one of the restaurants right outside of campus.”

“A’right. Later.”

“Yep.”

He ended the succinct conversation, his phone taking him back to the texting screen.

10:20 PM Gigi

That’s a provocative

message …

What the f*ck? Oh, sh*t! I hit send? f*ck! Provocative? Rereading his text, he realized he must have hit send after he’d started erasing his message. He huffed a laugh at himself as he started to reply.

_______

Jesus was telling Gigi how Eugene had followed Olivia around all night at Negan’s back to school get together, but had been too shy to speak with her. “I just about died when he spied Olivia and Merle chatting, knee to knee and nose to nose at the table on the deck. Poor Eugene. The look on his face! It was as if someone had kicked his puppy!” He shook his head at the memory, wiping the last of the barbeque sauce off his hands with his napkin.

The screen lit up on Gigi’s cell phone where it lay to the side of their accumulated plates and glasses. “Just in case the kids need me,” she had explained when she’d placed it there. “I know they’re old enough to take care of themselves, but I still feel like such a novice at this parenting thing I hover over my phone.”

“No need to explain,” Jesus had reassured her.

Tossing her own napkin down next to her plate, she picked up the phone, and tapping on the text notification at the top of the screen.

10:19 PM Unknown

My good girl-

Want some

The message was from an unknown contact, but the greeting made it clear who had sent it. Glad to hear from Negan, Gigi’s face lit up. She had made sure to stay out of his line of vision all day, giving him some space to sort out whatever he was worked up about. Keeping her distance had also given Gigi some time to think about things rationally, which she had needed. Perplexed by his text, she typed in her response.

10:20 PM

That’s a provocative

message …

10:21 PM Unknown

Hit send too soon.

Want some company?

Gigi held up one finger to the soccer coach to let him know she wouldn’t be long. She hated when people texted or talked on the phone at inappropriate times.

10:22 PM

Sorry, I’m out with

Jesus. Would love

‘some' otherwise. ;)

Typing quickly, she set the phone down on the table so she could go back to her conversation with her friend. She was glad Negan had reached out, having wondered how long he would be angry with her, and how much time he would take to get over himself. Why does this have to be so complicated? It shouldn’t be this complicated. She turned the phone upside down when it lit up again with a notification for a text from “unknown”, determined not to be inconsiderate to Jesus.

__________

Out with Jesus? Negan remembered hearing the conversation between his girl and their coworker at the party on Friday. They were going to talk about the details of their self-defense class. f*ck.

He tossed the phone onto his bed as he walked into his bedroom, deciding he wanted to sleep on his pillow top king-size mattress for a change, instead of the six f*cking inch short couch in the family room. He felt like he needed one good night of sleep, after several nights of partying and sex and he could at least doze off until his girl got home. Assuming she’d want some company.

He looked around the room thoughtfully, taking in all the fragments of Lucille and what seemed, at this point in time, like his former life. Pieces of her were everywhere. Walking over to their dresser, he smirked at how the surface was covered with a disproportionate amount of Lucille’s perfume, makeup organizers, hair products and other sundry girly sh*t. He had claimed only twelve inches or so of one end of the piece of furniture for his two bottles of cologne, a framed eight by ten photo of him and his mother at his high school graduation in nineteen eighty four, a brush, and a classic Hot Wheels car, mint in package, his Uncle Vic had given him for his tenth birthday.

He picked up his phone from the bed and typed in another message to Gigi. No bullsh*t, just him being real.

10:25 PM

Let me know if

you want “some”

When you get home.

He stood in front of the dusty piece of furniture for several minutes, looking over his late wife’s belongings. Studying himself in the dresser’s mirror, he searched for confirmation as if the man behind the glass was going to validate what he needed to do. He nodded at himself in support before taking two steps and reaching between the end of the dresser and the wall, pulling out an empty box he had brought into the room two months before so he could start cleaning out Lucille’s things. He had been unsuccessful at the endeavor, and after several days of walking around it, he’d put the cardboard into the corner, out of sight, knowing he would pull it back out when he was good and f*cking ready.

Makeup. Used makeup can be tossed out. He fished through the two organizers, pulling out a familiar tube of dark caramel colored lipstick he’d always liked on his wife, and a bottle of his favorite burgundy nail polish she would wear whenever they dressed up for a special event. Setting them with his things on the right side of the dresser, he put both of the loaded organizers down in the box. Spying her three bottles of perfume, he sat his favorite with his other keepers, and put the two remainders in the box as well. He also added her hair spray and other styling products, as well as her curling iron, leaving the hair dryer, since he used it most days. He needed a second box, he thought to himself, to pack the things he could give to charity and a third to pack the things he knew Lucille’s sisters might like to have. Another day.

He ran his hand through the dust on the now half empty dresser, making a mental note to go over it with cleaner the next day. The box was almost full, with everything he’d put in it, and he knew he should take it out to the garage for trash day, but he didn’t. He didn’t think he was ready yet. He tucked the box back into its hidey hole in the corner, determined not to get aggravated with himself for being so sentimental about her things.

He wondered if his girl had gone through her husband’s things yet. She had made it sound, when they’d discussed the matter, as if she were unfamiliar with his choice between trying to put aside the memories of his dead wife, and looking at reminders of her every day. He was glad she didn’t have to experience the dilemma.

The coach checked his phone, in case he’d missed a message from Gigi, before he brushed his teeth and stripped down to his boxer briefs as he usually did before bed. Walking back out to the kitchen, he poured himself a glass of ice water. It was ten forty-five, and his tired body was calling for some sleep. He checked his phone once more before he set his alarm for six forty-five in the morning. When he didn’t find a text from his girl, he crawled under the bed covers and settled in, pleased as f*ck with himself for packing up a few of Lucille’s things.

One f*cking step at a time.

________

At eleven forty-eight, after stripping down to the sapphire colored short unitard she had worn in place of a bra and panties under her clothes, Gigi washed her face, put on her myriad of nighttime anti-aging creams and gels, brushed her teeth and then turned down her bed. Pulling her phone out of her purse, she realized she’d been so caught up in her conversation with Jesus, she had never looked at Negan’s second text message after she’d replied to his first,.

10:25 PM Negan

Let me know if

you want “some”

When you get home.

She studied the screen for a moment, trying to decide if it was too late to answer him. She decided against the idea, choosing instead to slip out the doors onto her deck and down the stairs to the yard. The neighboring house was dark, other than a very faint glow in the kitchen window. Hurrying across the yard in her bare feet, she made her way up the steps to the second floor of his deck, stopping to peek through the sliding glass doors into his family room. Negan had mentioned he’d been sleeping on the couch instead of in the master bedroom. Pressing her forehead to the glass door like a peeping Tom, she let her eyes adjust to the darkness inside. When she was finally able to make out the sofa and love seat, she did not spot him on either.

Walking over to the master bedroom sliders, she looked around the interior, smiling when she could make him out, lying on his back, in the glow of the digital clock next to the bed. She smiled, happy to see him and happy he was sleeping in his bedroom, when he had avoided it for so long.

Testing the latch for the door, Gigi found it unlocked, and slid the door open just far enough to squeeze through. She could hear the sounds of her lover’s breathing, almost a snore, deep and even across the room. Tip toeing, she approached his side of the bed. Hearing his breath catch, she knew he had heard her and was stirring from his sleep.

“It’s me,” she reassured him softly in the dark, reaching out her hand and laying it on his chest. His hand immediately moved from underneath his pillow to lay on top of hers.

Negan struggled to open his eyes. He’d been dead asleep, startled awake by some sort of subtle shift in the energy around him, and he knew even before she reassured him, his girl had come to him in the night. The feel of her hand on his chest helped to calm his racing heart. He lay still, his eyes finally opening, searching and finding her standing over him.

Leaning over him, Gigi felt her way across his cheek with her lips as her fingers ran through his hair, and she softly kissed him here and there, physically greeting him. He responded immediately, if not a bit sleepily, humming with satisfaction in response to the affection, the fingers of one hand sliding around the back of her thigh, fondling it tenderly.

Removing her hand from his chest, she pulled the covers off him, crawling over him to straddle his hips while her lips skimmed across his forehead, nipped down his cheek, and then sucked on his bottom lip as she groaned with pleasure at the taste of him. Kissing him longingly, she ground her covered folds into his groin, feeling her way until his growing erection was nestled against her center. His sleepy, breathy moan spurred her on, and she began to move forward and back on his length, their breathing heavier as their lazy movements shifted into a higher gear.

It felt like it had been f*cking years since they’d been together, which created a sense of urgency in Negan to bury himself inside her as soon as f*cking possible. He groaned in upset when she rocked forward, her puss* leaving his co*ck so she could reach his lips to kiss him passionately, telling him without words how much she wanted him.

“Need to f*ck you, Gigi,” he whispered, pulling the fabric of her body suit up high in the crack of her ass, exposing her glorious cheeks so he could knead them as she hovered over him on her knees. He sat up, pulling her ass so her groin met his stomach, using his chest to push her torso upright when he sat up, as if she was just another part of him he needed to shift.

His fingers were everywhere, clutching and grasping one minute, softly caressing her the next. He didn’t know what the f*ck she was wearing, but it definitely wasn’t a garment meant for easy access, and he was too impatient to do the work required to remove it. Sliding the straps of the top down her arms, he mouthed his way down the center of her chest, nosing his way beneath the stretchy material covering it so he could lavish attention on tiny number one and then tiny number two, sucking each one forcefully, delighted he could make every bit of the little, tiny, perfect titt*es disappear into his mouth.

Gigi moaned, and she whimpered at his play, gasping when his fingertips followed the curve of her exposed glutes down and underneath her, smoothly slipping underneath the fabric between her thighs and sliding between her wet folds. She whimpered at his touch, on fire for him after two long days without him.

Negan needed her that very f*cking second. His fingers moved with purpose, spreading her lubrication around her opening and up around her cl*t, making sure she was ready before he invaded her, pushing his index and middle finger up inside her. He searched until he found her g-spot, rubbing it in the hopes of wetting her up as quickly as possible, because he felt a little f*cking desperate to get inside her.

As he played with her, he reveled in the sound of her increased whimpers and cries, the fingers of his free hand circling the back of her neck and pulling her to him, her lips slotting perfectly into his.

Gigi’s hands didn’t stop moving the entire time he played with her, even as she shuddered and writhed, grazing along his back, her fingers carding through his hair, brushing across his lips, one hand finally reaching between them to search for the part of him she needed the most. Negan groaned as she wormed her fingers through the flap in the front of his briefs, pulling his erection through the opening, stroking him as he drove her crazy by massaging her g spot.

Scrambling to move the crotch of her body suit to the side, she moved her hips to position herself over him, needing him inside her as soon as possible. When Negan figured out what she was trying to do, he pulled his fingers from her, hooking his index finger in the fabric and yanking it to the side to hold it out of the way. His amazing f*cking girl immediately moved the head of his co*ck into position, surrounding him with her heat, her breath stuttering as she sunk down onto his length.

He cursed lowly, the feel of her silken core surrounding him, warming him like a f*cking glove. Fuuuuuck me. So amazingly f*cking good.

After taking a moment to simply feel him, Gigi started to move, her hands on his shoulders, her lips seeking out his. There was nothing better, she was sure, than kissing him as he moved inside her, the combination of the two sensual acts almost more than she could emotionally bear. A tiny, heartfelt cry escaped from her lips as they grazed over his cheekbone, and she clamped her lips shut, not wanting to scare him with her emotional outburst. Too much.

Negan heard the sound. Even more so he felt it, and like the f*cking puss* he was for her, his chest constricted. Flattered as f*ck at his effect on her, he kissed her with everything he had in him, determined to show her what she meant to him, in the only way he knew how. Grabbing low on her hip one handed while he used the other hand to pull her garment up into the valley between her puss* and her thigh, he helped to move her, digging his fingers in to her flesh, sliding her down on him, then pushing her horizontally away from him, tilting her hips back as he pushed her off his dick, dragging her cl*t along the top of his co*ck to stimulate her, showing her a new way to get herself off.

Gigi pulled back to look him in the eye after a few strokes, clutching the hair at the back of his head as she laughed with delight, taking over the rocking of her hips in an exaggerated movement which ensured maximum stimulation on her nub. She cried out when he put his fingertips on the tip of her cl*tor*s, pushing it downward to ensure the perfect slide along his erection.

He f*cking loved how she mimicked the motions, not hesitating to use his co*ck and his hand like they were made for her pleasure. “Come on Gigi … come for me!” he ordered against the full, delicious lips which were still panting against his, kissing her in between phrases. “Can you come for me?”

Gigi didn’t respond, inside her own head, concentrating on the feel of him and the pulsing sensation inside her. She was close, so close, but then she started to worry. Hearing his panting, and feeling his motions shift from smooth to jerky, she knew he was close to coming, and she didn’t want to cause a delay in his pleasure. She moved her focus back to him, smiling as she whispered, “Don’t worry about me, Negan. Not right now.”

He wanted to reassure her, ‘Of course, I’ll f*cking worry about you.’ He wanted to be selfless enough to put his own need for release on hold and focus on her. But he couldn’t, selfish prick that he was, because her puss* felt like heaven, and his need to org*sm was all consuming and not to be denied. “Me first, then you, sweetheart?” he half suggested and half promised her, because he needed her to know he wasn’t giving up on her, and he would make sure she was satisfied as soon as he could. He found himself compelled to explain it to her, because he’d promised her every day could be her f*cking someday. “You feel so f*cking good on me, Gigi, making me f*cking crazy with your amazing f*cking puss*, riding me so f*cking good…” As he rambled he felt her shift her hips, and digging her fingers into shoulders she began pounding him in earnest, pulling almost all the way off him before slamming down on him.

She was nose to nose with him, watching him, enjoying his hand twitching on her hip and his eyes fluttering shut as she moved faster and faster. She loved his cursing, and groaning and the way his head lolled back as if he no longer had the strength to hold it up. She loved it all as she increased her speed, working her thigh muscles even as her knee screamed in protest at the fast pace she’d set. The look and sound of his pleasure was worth the price she’d pay later. So worth it.

“So f*cking good, Gigi!” Negan managed to praise her. “f*ck!” Both his hands finding her hips, he forced her down on his co*ck a handful of times, grunting and shuddering as he started to come.

She kissed him, wanting to be connected to him as he climaxed, wanting to feel his org*sm through him instead of watching it from the outside. She pulled him flush against her, taking in every sound, every uneven breath and every quiver and buck of his hips, feeling his heart pounding against her chest.

Negan found himself pulling at his girl, wanting her closer, running his hands up and down her sides and her back, feeling every inch of her half clothed body. Every f*cking inch which belonged to him, as far as he was concerned. ‘My Negan’, she had whispered to him in the dark, and it had made him uncomfortable because he had known it was true. It was uncomfortable for him because it was too f*cking soon for him to need her as much as he did. It was too soon for him to want to be her Negan. Big ass panty waste. f*ck.

Maybe he just needed someone. Maybe anyone, he told himself as he ran his tongue along her lower lip, humming as the tip of hers came out to meet it. Maybe he just didn’t want to be alone now that his wife was gone, he reasoned with himself as he ran his fingers through her hair, then splayed them on either side of her face, rolling and tilting her head so he could run his lips along the smooth as f*ck skin of her cheekbones and her jawline and her neck, wanting to hear the hum she would purr low in her throat when he lavished her with any type of physical affection. Maybe he was blowing things out of proportion, he chided himself as he tasted her with his tongue and his lips. Maybe it was one or all of those things, since there was no f*cking way he could possibly feel so much longing for someone he’d only been f*cking for four days. Maybe, he tried to convince himself as he pulled back to look in her beautiful eyes, smiling at the way they were fluttering shut and struggling to open from the caress of his lips, and the way she was utterly f*cking relaxed in his arms.

Negan’s energy started to renew, and he remembered he needed to return the favor of a fantastic org*sm for his girl. He kissed her softly before he lifted her off his co*ck, guiding her to turn around and sit on his lap with her back to his chest because he just, f*cking, loved being able to move her petite ass wherever the f*ck he wanted her and he relished the feel of her pressed against him. Running his hands along the inside of her thighs, he spread her legs, the fingers of one hand going to work on her puss*. My puss*.

Gigi whimpered, and she groaned, and she cried out as he toyed with her, stimulating her fast and hard. It felt like heaven and too much, all at once, a surprisingly enjoyable combination. She panted open mouthed, his fingers relentless in their pursuit of her org*sm, causing her to shudder and writhe.

As Negan worked, he bent her spread knees where they rested on the outside of his thighs, and putting one hand under her ass, he lifted and pushed her forward onto her hands and knees. Resting on his shins behind her, his hand steadily circling her cl*t from underneath her belly, he kissed and nibbled the cheeks of her ass. Once again pushing her body suit further out of his way, he nuzzled his way down her cleft, taking in the heady scent of her puss* and ass. “f*ck, Gigi!”

She gasped in surprise when she felt Negan’t tongue, warm and wet, move up and down the crack of her rear end, running right over her hole without hesitation, all while his fingers were still moving between her folds. She couldn’t help herself when she pushed back into him with his second pass, forcing his tongue more firmly against her pucker.

“Good girl,” he praised her, his words, his tongue and his fingers inflaming her senses, making her body vibrate with pleasure. “Show me what you like, Gigi.” Her hips seemed to move of their own accord, gyrating as he held still behind her, moving herself around his tongue, seeking out more of the oh, so naughty, but luscious feeling he’d introduced her to, the idea of which was as thrilling as the feeling it elicited. She had always wondered what could be likeable about anal stimulation. Now she knew what she’d been missing, thanks to her wicked boy.

Gigi wailed when he pressed forward, licking with force, her nerves tingling with pleasure. “Negan! Oh my God!” Her hand flew back, fingers fisting in his hair to keep him in place as he prodded her opening with a straight tongue. She was shocked to find she wanted it inside her. More. Now.

Gigi whimpered when his tongue disappeared, only to cry out when she felt his finger suddenly circling the sensitive entrance. Running the flat of it around her rim, moving from its outer edge to the center where he pushed lightly with the tip.

I want the f*ck in there. Negan was slowly but surely losing his f*cking mind at the feel of her tight as f*ck asshole under the pad of his finger. His girl was obviously loving the attention, so he decided to test her by pressing his index finger lightly into the center of her pucker. Feeling her tense he instructed, “Relax for me, sweetheart.” His amazing f*cking woman nodded frantically at his words, and he felt her relax under his touch. “My good girl.”

Wanting to minimize any possible discomfort, he wet his pinky in her folds in place of his index finger, pressing at just the right spot in the center of her asshole, wishing he had enough light to see the very tip of his finger as it disappeared inside her. The feel alone was blissful. If he hadn’t just come, it would have been all f*cking over for him.

As much as Gigi had wanted him to push inside, the burning sensation which flared made her hiss in discomfort, every muscle in her body locking in place in protest of the possibility of Negan’s finger moving even one iota further. Even as she flinched, she wanted to clamp her thighs together to try to quell the wave of arousal coursing through her.

Feeling her tense, Negan stilled both hands, giving her time to adjust and relax. “Do you want me to stop?” he inquired softly, knowing her answer before she even responded to the question.

“No! Don’t stop!”

Leaning forward, he peppered her back with kisses, encouraging her to calm. “My sweet girl,” he cooed. “Count to thirty for me. Slowly,” because he knew the discomfort would disappear within a short time, and would be replaced with nothing but pleasure when the muscle of her tight little pucker relaxed. He wanted her to experience the wonder of ass play. It was Negan’s favorite f*cking kind of play, and he hadn’t been able to enjoy it enough in his lifetime. Women who were open to it had seemed to be few and far between.

Gigi nodded her head once more, concentrating on the feel of his lips grazing along her spine, listening to his husky voice count slowly as her hole contracted uncomfortably around its tiny invader. Even while she was uncomfortable, her core was pulsing with excitement. The mix of pleasure and pain was disconcerting, yet wonderful, foreign, yet welcome. Before he was even finished his count, the discomfort disappeared, and an overwhelming, pleasurable feeling took over.

He could tell when the muscle relaxed, and the discomfort had subsided, the tension in her body melting away. The muscle stopped involuntarily contracting around his finger, and relaxed completely, allowing him to push the small finger further inside her. The whine which escaped her lips made him freeze, unable to discern whether it stemmed from pleasure or pain.

But his amazing f*cking girl answered the question, pushing herself back ever so subtly, testing to see what would happen if his finger moved inside her. He waited to see what she would do, and his girl rocked forward, causing his finger to slide part of the way out of her. Locking his hand in place, he chuckled to himself lowly, a two note laugh which shifted from low to high, as her minute movements became larger with each shift of her body. My good f*cking girl.

Snapping out of his fascinated haze, Negan started circling her cl*t again, her whining and whimpering increasing ten fold with the double stimulation. Fuuuuucckk, f*ck, f*ck, f*ck, fuuuuucckk, f*ckity, f*cking, f*ck! Increasing the pressure and speed between her folds, he simultaneously started to move the finger in her ass, pushing forward as she pushed back.

Not a breath passed between his girl’s lips which didn’t sound like a moan, groan or whimper. It was as if she couldn’t contain the sounds if she tried, she was in such a frenzy. When her groans and moans all turned to whimpers, Negan knew Gigi was close, and she suddenly stalled, remaining perfectly still as he worked her over, the volume of her cries increasing as his motions purposely became more harried and more forceful, his wrist twisting as he pushed and pulled his finger gently in and out of her ass, his other hand shifting from circular motions to back and forth across the tip of her cl*t.

The force of Gigi’s org*sm was staggering, her abs contracting as she jerked forward on her knees, while simultaneously trying to push out the finger inside her the minute she started to come. Too much.

Hyper vigilant for any signs of discomfort, Negan gently pulled his finger from her as she keened, stopping the stimulation of her cl*t as well. Molding himself to her back, he splayed his fingers under her belly as she quaked and writhed, her head turned to him, lips seeking out contact. She eventually collapsed onto the mattress, and he lowered himself onto her, laying on her back. She was perfectly still except for the pounding of her heart and her panting, and he kissed across her shoulders and up her neck, grazing his lips over the side of her face and pushing wet tendrils of hair out of her face as she tried to catch her breath. “My good f*cking girl,” he praised her.

His girl’s hand snaked underneath his where it lay on the mattress next to her head, and he entwined his fingers with hers, kissing the upturned corner of her mouth when she proudly nodded in agreement. My good, f*cking trusting girl.

__________

Negan spied the box of Lucille’s things in the corner of the bedroom as he toweled off after his shower the next morning, his eyes landing on it when he opened his dresser drawer to pull out a pair of gray twill casual pants, and a white tee shirt with a small purple Mount Vernon logo on the left side of the chest, to wear to work.

Gigi had left at one in the morning, wanting to get home since she hadn’t told Hannah and Marshall she would be gone. Neither she nor the coach liked the idea of one of the kids not being able to find their aunt if they needed her in the middle of the night.

He had lain awake for quite awhile after she’d left the bedroom he had shared with his late wife, mulling over his feelings for his dancer, and feeling a little bit guilty about their magnitude. One thing he'd told himself, to help his unease, was his wife would want him to be happy. She had given him permission to move on when he was ready. Negan was sure he was ready. He just needed some time for his confidence in his late wife’s wishes to override his slowly diminishing guilt.

When Mount Vernon’s football coach left for work, his trash can with a week’s worth of his household garbage was sitting next to his mailbox at the edge of the road, waiting for the trash truck which would come by later in the morning to empty it. There was a cardboard box full of used women’s beauty products sitting on the ground next to it for the trash men to take.

Chapter 20: Let Me Make Sure I Heard You Correctly

Chapter Text

“The dancing asshole is staying with her this weekend,” Negan filled in Merle about Mikhail’s impending visit as they stood outside his office on Thursday morning. “Apparently they have some sort of big shindig in DC on Sunday.”

“Yeah, she told me,” the groundskeeper informed him. “She's about bustin' her britches she’s so excited ta see ‘im.”

“What’s the story with those two?” The coach was pissed his buddy knew more about the dancing prick than he did.

Merle studied him for a minute, before responding honestly, “He’s her best friend. Seems ta me, they’re pretty damn tight.”

“f*ck.”

“No f*cks about it, man. Nothin’ ta get worked up about. He’s just a friend.”

“You think he’s hot for her?”

“Doesn’t make a damn bit a difference, if she ain’t interested.”

“Did she tell you outright she’s not interested?”

“No, but she’s bumpin’ uglies with you, man. You know as well as I do, Gigi’s not the type ta screw around with more ‘n one guy at a time.”

Negan nodded, eyebrows raised, corners of his mouth turned down in appreciation of what his buddy was telling him. “She’s a good f*cking girl.” What a good f*cking girl. “What the f*ck should I do about the asshole?”

“Nothin’ ya can do but wait ‘n see what happens. Like ya said, she’s a good girl,” Merle repeated his friend’s words. “In the mean time, ya better get that tongue a yers busy between her thighs. Give her somethin’ ta remind her why she’s keepin’ ya around, in case the pantyhose wearin' freak starts whisperin’ sweet nothin’s in her ear this weekend.”

“Good f*cking point, man.”

“Speak a the devil,” Merle noted in a hushed voice, co*cking his head down the hallway.

__________

He put his finger in my butt.

Gigi grinned when she spied Negan standing with Merle in front of the coach’s office, her face lighting up. And I liked it. A lot. Approaching them, she pulled a coffee out of her carrier for each of them, wishing them a good morning before she turned to go back down the hall to her own office. She didn’t want to intrude on their conversation, and it had looked like they were discussing something important.

Unlocking her office door, she walked inside, dropping her bag on the loveseat and putting her cup of coffee on the edge of her desk, before tucking the cardboard carrier in her bag. She’d been using the same one since the first day she bought beverages for herself and Merle, not able to stand the thought of throwing a perfectly good item in the trash when it could be used again and again. She felt she was doing her little part to save the environment by recycling the thing.

As she wrote, “I’m in!!!” on the dry erase board on her door in hot pink magic marker, with hearts dotting the “i” and exclamation points, she thought about Negan’s finger in her rear end. Ass, Gigi. He had his finger in your ass. Electricity coursed through her as she wondered when he’d do it again. Would he do the same thing, or maybe use a different finger? A bigger finger?

“Thinking about our fun last night, Coach Sokolov?”

Negan was suddenly next to her, standing so close she could feel his body heat as he murmured in her ear. His index finger had made its way under her Mount Vernon tank top, and down the back of her black spandex workout shorts and thong, and was teasing the top of the crack of her bum softly as he nuzzled the shell of her ear. The electric pulse in her core turned to a steady rhythm, as she turned her head to look at him. They were practically nose to nose, and she enjoyed the scent of latte, freshly brushed teeth and his masculine cologne. She needed to kiss him, but she wouldn’t do it in the hall at work.

“Last night?” she responded quietly, furrowing her brows as if perplexed. “Do you want to come in and remind me what happened last night? I'm not sure I remember, and I know you have fifteen minutes until you need to be out on the field.”

Gigi heard his growl in her ear as he moved towards her, gently pushing his body against hers and walking her backwards into her office. He shut her door with one hand, turning the lock on the knob as he pulled her to him with the other, his lips descending on hers for a heated kiss.

Negan kept her moving the entire time he devoured her mouth, backing her into her desk. Since the other teachers wouldn’t arrive until nine, he was going to play with his new toy, and leave her with something nice to think about for the rest of her f*cking work day, and all f*cking weekend while she hung out with the prancing dick bag. And I’ll f*ck her tonight while he’s sleeping across the hall.

Wrapping his hands around the back of her thighs he lifted her and sat her on the edge of her desk, all as he continued to kiss her. His lips never left hers as he pushed her backwards on the desk with his torso, cradling her with one arm to guide her onto her back. He slid his hands up under her shirt and under her sports bra to give the tinies a little love. Rolling and pinching her nipples, his lips finally left hers so they could kiss their way down her stomach, and Gigi’s back arched to push her belly up to meet them.

He pulled her spandex shorts and G-string down over her knee brace and one shoe, leaving them hanging off her other ankle, and he feasted on the sight of her, puss* f*cking bared for him on the desk in the goddamn phys ed department of Mount Vernon High School. f*ck. Me. Hard.

“Can you hold these for me, sweetheart?” Pushing her thighs up and to the sides, Negan felt the little bastard twitch in his pants when his girl placed her hands under her knees to hold them up for him. He grinned at her wide eyed expression, and he reached out to caress her belly with his fingertips. His nostrils flared, tongue running between his teeth as he watched her spread her legs wider for him. Do I have time to f*ck her now?

Gigi felt as if her heart was pounding out of her chest. She had thought they would simply steal a few kisses before they started their work day. She hadn’t expected to be laying, half naked, on her desk. The possibility of getting caught in a compromising position made what they were doing feel so wrong, yet she was more turned on than she’d ever thought she could be.

Negan wasted no time in diving between her thighs, causing her to gasp loudly at the sudden feeling of his tongue on her cl*t. Reaching blindly behind him, he felt the arm chair a few feet away, and pulled it into the back of his legs. Sitting down on it, he pulled her ass to the edge of the desk, going to town on her, sucking and licking, her back arching up off the desk in response.

Gigi was struggling to keep quiet while he lapped at her, one of his fingers alternating between stroking her g spot and thrusting in and out of her. So good. So, so good. Every sensation was heightened ten fold, due to their locale.

Negan smirked to himself when he felt the muscles contract under his fingers splayed on her stomach, her barely audible panting turning into silent whining. He watched her, over her bare mons, her head pushing back into the hard surface of her desk as she suddenly stilled. She is so f*cking there. Already. ‘I can’t come for you, Negan’, my f*cking ass. She just needed the one and only Negan to show her the f*cking way.

Pulling back from her puss*, he savored the sound of her whining as he inquired, “Do you wanna come for me, Gigi?”

Her head nodded even as she lifted it off the desk to meet his eyes, the look on her face almost desperate. He chuckled lowly, sitting back in his chair, folding his hands over his chest as she stared at him, affronted by his sudden movement further away from her.

“Say it, Gigi,” he demanded.

“I do,” she replied, chest heaving, one hand twitching on her stomach as if she were struggling to keep it from moving between her legs to finish herself off.

The sight of her, propped up on her elbows, glaring at him while her knees were still spread wide tickled the f*ck out of him, and he grinned like a loon before he insisted, “You can do better.”

Gigi huffed at him in between her panting breaths, moving her knees together and apart repeatedly to create some friction on her cl*t as she exuded some serious attitude. “I want to come for you,” she informed him impatiently as she motioned for him to move forward.

Negan leaned forward in his seat, grazing his lips along the valley between her thigh and puss*, listening to her breath hitch before he murmured, “That was not my good girl talking, was it?” He gave the outside of her folds a few kitten licks as he looked up at her expectantly.

She stared at him for several seconds before she finally conceded softly, “I want to come for you, Negan.”

“My good f*cking girl!” he praised her, suddenly standing up and pushing the chair further behind him with the back of his legs. Bending over her, he slid his tongue from the bottom to the top of her slit, swiping it forcefully along her nub and causing her to gasp loudly.

Standing upright, he shifted the thong and shorts wrapped around her ankle until they were straightened, then pushed her ankles together and pulled the empty leg of the clothing over her shoe, dragging both garments up her leg and fussing with them to make sure they were in the right position as she looked at him incredulously. “I have to get out onto the field,” he announced as he patted her ass with one hand, signaling her to lift it so he could slide her clothing up.

He could have laughed out loud at the absolute confusion on her face. “We’ll have to continue this later.”

“What?” the dancer hissed at him desperately, sitting up and hopping off the desk when he made his way to the door. “Are you kidding me?” She couldn’t believe he was going to leave her hanging after bringing her almost to the brink of what would have been a fantastic org*sm.

“Not in the least,” he teased her, pulling her to him with an arm around her back and kissing her long and hard, leaving them both a little breathless. “Don’t worry sweetheart,” he reassured her, his voice dripping with false concern. “We can finish this later.” Pulling one of her hands from his chest, he moved it to the front of his shorts and brushed it up and down along his hard on as he leered down at her. He chuckled at her look of discontent, and gave her a final peck on the lips before opening her office door and casually strolling out into the empty hallway. Negan one, Gigi zero.

Stepping into the hall after him, Gigi called to him in code, softly informing him in a business like tone, “No big deal, coach, I can finish up this project by myself!” There was no way she would consider bringing herself to org*sm in her office at work, but she didn’t want him to think he had gotten the upper hand with his teasing.

f*ck no she will not! Negan wasn’t exactly sure why her statement set him off, but it did. It fired him the f*ck up and he suddenly felt the need to put his girl in her place. Remind her who was in charge. She needed to follow the rules of the game he had started, because the game was about asserting control over her. The little bastard in his pants cheered in response to his determination, giving a little shiver which Negan couldn’t help but notice.

Gigi watched him pause in his tracks and pivot on one foot, looking at her with disbelief as he turned to her. Moving quickly back to where she stood, he stopped in front of her. There was something in his eyes, and the way he co*cked his head as he squinted at her, which made her tremble where she stood, the confidence she had been trying to exude gone in an instant.

“No, you will not,” he insisted fiercely, leaning into her and cupping her mons with his long fingers. Digging them up into the center of her covered folds with just the right amount of pressure to make her breath catch in blatant arousal, he leaned even closer, murmuring, “Do you know why, Gigi?”

He should have been pleased as f*ck at the look of shock on her face, and her silent whimper ghosting over his lips, but he was too intent on making his point to be amused by her physical responses. She shook her head vehemently, eyebrows raised to her hairline.

“Because this is mine.” He tightened his grip, pushing his index and middle fingers up against the fabric of her spandex shorts, far enough to ensure their contact with her cl*t. He rubbed his fingers forward and back roughly as he stepped closer, overwhelming her with his physical presence and his sensual manipulation.

“It’s my puss* to play with. Only mine. Not yours, not anyone else’s, right?” His question wasn’t only about making her wait until later for him to bring her to a climax. Negan was verbalizing his unease about her ballet dancing bestie coming to town. He needed to know his girl’s luscious f*cking slit belonged to him alone. Even if she didn’t seem like the type who would play two men at once, and even if they had only been f*cking around for a handful of days, he still needed her to affirm it. “Right?”

Gigi couldn’t breathe. The unyielding strokes between her legs, the heat in his gaze, and the lewd words he was whispering against the corner of her mouth were all creating a physical response which was too intense for her to control. This stunning man was claiming her as his own. He wanted to know if she was his, and his alone. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes ...” The words flowed from her in one long string as she turned her head the fraction of and inch needed to ramble her confirmation against his lips.

“Who’s my girl?” His expression softened at the sincerity and passion in her response. He gazed at her with affection, his fingers becoming more insistent, rewarding her for her admission. She was panting lightly in time with the motion of his hand, her hips rocking forward and back as the strokes of his fingers pushed and pulled her.

“Negan. Negan…” she panted softly against his cheek, needing to warn him. I can’t … oh, God … not here … She needed to tell him, but she could no longer speak, her core clenching and thrumming with an intensity she’d never felt before. Someone could see. He needs to stop … needs to stop.

He heard her desperation and watched her eyes close as she reached out, clawing at his waist a few times before she dug her fingernails into his side with force, causing him to grunt. It was when he felt every f*cking muscle in her body tense, and heard her breath coming shallow and fast, he realized she was going to come right the f*ck there in the open doorway. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. With one step, he backed her into her office and against the open door, her legs moving unwittingly at his physical insistence.

His prissy girl’s beautiful brown eyes shot open, looking into his, sharing with him her ecstasy and more than a little bit of fear. Fear of letting go somewhere other than in the privacy of her bedroom, he was sure, because she’d never stepped outside of the confines of the box she’d lived in for so long. In that moment he was also sure she would have never brought herself to climax in her office, despite her threat, so all of his bravado had been for naught.

She needed him to quell her fear. She needed to know there was no reason to be afraid. Needing to allay her worry he murmured his permission, “My good f*cking girl. It’s just us here, Gigi. You know that, right?”

The quietest of whimpers was her only response.

“It’s okay, Gigi. I want you to come for me, sweetheart.”

It was as if he flipped her f*cking switch, her anxiety disappearing because the man who held the key to her sexual freedom had reassured her it was okay for her to org*sm right then, right there, because he f*cking said so. The power she’d handed him was humbling, and he watched with wonder as his dancer trembled quietly in her release, eyes shut and lips parted, her fingertips digging more fiercely into his side as she fought to stay upright.

Negan molded himself to the front of her, pressing her into the door where it rested against her office wall, supporting her, rewarding her with kisses and praise. Her hand snaked around the back of his neck, holding on as if for dear life as her hips twitched again and again.

“So good, trusting me … so beautiful … my awesome girl … so perfect for me …” he lauded her lowly. Not one of his sentiments was empty or meaningless, because he was all f*cking wrapped up in the woman in his arms. He was kidding himself, he knew, thinking he was the one in control.

___________

12:13 PM Misha

Flight is delayed.

Probably get to you

Between 5 and 6.

12:23

Hope you don’t

mind, Carol and the

girls are coming over.

Everyone wants to

meet/see you.

12:24 Misha

Carol! <3

What about the jerk

next door?

12:24

Be nice, Mish. ;) I’m

sure you’ll meet

him at some point.

__________

Be nice, she says. Right. Sure. Misha shook his head, switching his cell phone to airplane mode and putting it in the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket.

“Mister Baryshnikov?” one of the flight attendants for first class greeted him. “Is there anything I can get for you before we take off?”

“I’m fine,” he smiled at the woman, giving her wink since she’d addressed him by name in the hopes of gaining some special attention. “Thank you.”

He sat back in his seat, buckling his seat belt to get ready for take off. Leaning on the arm rest under the window he watched the activity on the tarmac as he rubbed his thumb over his bottom lip, thinking about his upcoming respite. He was looking forward to his weekend with Gigi, without the weight of Yuri’s physical and emotional problems hanging over them. Not that he had begrudged the man for his medical problems. He had loved Yuri like a brother, but the last few years of the his life had been difficult for everyone, Gigi especially. Whether his friend had been able to control it or not, it had been hard for Misha to watch Yuri’s effect on her. Because he loved her. More than he should.

_________

“I don’t know what to do, Misha,” Gigi confided at the ABT’s Christmas party. Yuri had left the party early, so they spent the evening together, hiding in a corner of the room at a small table, behind a very large decorative fern. Hiding from the dozens and dozens of people who would want to say hello, if they spied the pair. “The anti depressant the doctor gave Yuri? It has made such a difference, but he doesn’t like the way it makes him feel, so he’s refusing to take it.” She was quiet for a moment before she admitted, “I just don’t know what to do anymore. His constant negativity is wearing me down.”

He could hear the pain in her voice, and it killed him. He didn’t know what the hell was going on with Yuri. His personality had changed so radically. His friend had always been a bit of a prima donna, but he had always been kind and affectionate with his wife and his friends. Over the course of a year Yuri had kept to himself more and more, and from what Gigi had told him in confidence, her husband had become unbearable, always irritable and constantly berating her. It seemed so strange when he had always been so openly loving and affectionate with his wife.

Misha had tried to talk to his friend, hoping to help in some way, but he’d only become defensive, especially when his mentor had told him he was concerned about the effect his moods were having on Gigi.

His malyshka visited him in the studio late one January night. Yuri was normally asleep by nine thirty, so Mikhail would call her by ten to check in on her. He was working late, everyone else gone for the day. Strangely, she’d texted him at nine forty-five each night for over a week, asking if he was home from work yet, and each night he had answered yes. He would call her immediately, assuming she was anxious to talk to him.

On night eight he replied to her text, letting her know he was still at the studio. He hoped she was okay, since he was in the middle of working out some choreography for a new ballet, so couldn’t call her right away.

She surprised him, messaging, ‘Wait for me?’ Of course he would, because she could ask him to walk through fire for her and he would do it. Again and again.

Gigi came breezing up to the open studio door at ten after ten in her wool pea coat, breathless from hurrying up five flights of steps. She hurriedly toed her snow boots off outside the door, smiling as she worked, bending over to put their heels against the wall next to the door frame in the hall, because shoes other than those for dance were not allowed on the studio floor. Her nose and hands were pink from the cold weather outside, and tendrils of hair had come loose from her messy bun. Her head and shoulders were sprinkled with drops of water from melted snow. Misha found it very fitting she was sparkling in the overhead lights. She’d obviously been enjoying her freedom wandering, or more likely prancing along the streets of the city in the lightly falling snow, and he chuckled at the gorgeous, graceful, mess of a woman.

Her beautiful eyes met his across the room. She was gleeful, giggling, a freshly packed snowball in the palm of one bare hand, which she held up for him in offering from across the room because she was always telling him he needed to work less hours and take the time to stop and smell the roses, or pet a puppy, or enjoy a snowball fight.

They stood, staring at each other across the quiet room for a time, her smile finally fading when she thought about what had driven her to visit him. Mikhail’s lips curled into a bittersweet smile as he watched her conflict radiating from her. He had always known what was going on in her mind, sometimes even before she did. He felt quite guilty, but at the same time was selfishly pleased he was the cause of her emotional struggle.

His dancer finally took off running towards him, and he was ready for her when she leapt gracefully into his arms, wrapping her legs around his torso, using one hand to pull him closer and all the strength in the arms she’d wrapped around him, to keep him there. He could feel the snowball she’d brought him, melting where she clutched it at the back of his neck, soaking through his leotard as he held her aloft. He was oblivious to the freezing water, his nose buried in the soft skin under her jaw as she ran the fingers of her free hand through his hair. His heart broke at the cry which escaped from her lips, a strange mix of utter joy and desperate sadness.

In his mind, this moment had been inevitable. It was as overdue as it was forbidden. Even so, he wanted to wait to see if she would make the first move, in case he was wrong about what he’d read in her eyes. His heart wasn’t listening to his mind, though, and he found himself running his lips down the side of her neck, and kissing the cool hollow at the base of her throat. He burst with happiness and a profound sense relief when she didn’t stop him, but whimpered and panted at caress of his lips.

After a moment she pulled back so she could look at him, pain in her eyes. “We can’t …” was all she whispered even as her fingertips ran along his cheekbones and over his lips, her eyes never leaving his as she explored him fervently, her lips a fraction of an inch away from his, sharing his breath, tasting him without kissing him. It was the ultimate tease, when he wanted so desperately to kiss the woman in his arms. His malyshka. The love of his life.

“I know.” He wasn’t been able to keep the disappointment out of his tone as he swept his lips across her jaw line, then brought them to rest at the corner of her mouth, finding his own way of stealing a forbidden kiss. She cupped the back of his neck with her now empty fingers, her snowball having melted away. He was suddenly aware of the cold of her hand, and the wetness on the back of his dance clothes as she straightened her legs and he lowered her to the floor. She held onto him for quite awhile before she finally let go, leaving the studio without a word.

Less than a month later, Gigi and Yuri had moved to Virginia to care for her niece and nephew. Misha hadn’t figured out until days later why she had texted him each night, asking if he was at home. She had finally come to him, the one night he was still at work at ten o’clock, because she’d known if she had met him at his apartment, they never would have stopped themselves. As ugly as her life had been at the time, she would never have cheated on Yuri. Gigi was a good woman. Mikhail, on the other hand, chastised himself for being less than a good man, and an even worse friend, because he had wanted to make love to his best friend’s wife, and would have done so without remorse, had she been willing.

The sound of the captain's voice, coming from the speaker above his head, asking the flight attendants to prepare for take off brought Misha back to the present, and he shifted in his seat, putting his head back and closing his eyes, thinking he would take a cat nap for the short flight.

___________

“Are you ready to talk to me about why you’ve been upset with me over the last couple of weeks?”

Negan’s girl twirled into his doorway at lunchtime instead of bouncing, a brownie in her hand. “Low carb?” he inquired, eyeing the dessert and then her firm as f*ck calf and thigh muscles as she pirouetted one more time before coming to a stop. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, thinking about the taste of her as she lay on her desk that morning.

“Of course,” Gigi responded with a laugh. “It’s actually not bad.” She had been distracted all morning during practice, thanks to him, and was more than a bit smitten with how he'd given her the most powerful climax of her life, in her office, at work. Her visit was more about needing to see him, than about wanting to talk. Maybe there was an off chance she could have both.

“f*ck low carb.” Negan frowned in distaste. He took the last bite of his sandwich, wiping his hands on his napkin, and then balled it up and tossed it in the trash, answering her question indirectly. “Close the door and sit down.”

The rest of the staff were milling about the department, popping into his office intermittently to chat or get advice about department matters, and he didn’t want them privy to his conversation with Gigi. She wasn’t going to be happy with what he had to say, and he wanted to save her the embarrassment of her co workers finding out about his beefs with her. He would try not to be hard on her, since they were sleeping together, but what went on between them personally had nothing to do with their relationship at school, and he really needed to set her straight on how things needed to be done in his department.

She smirked at his indirect response to her question as she followed his instructions, despite his lack of manners. He sounded annoyed at the prospect of having the necessary discussion with her. For someone who liked to be in control of his department, he should be more amenable to spending the time needed to ensure any problems were straightened out.

Negan smiled at the cheerleading coach as she pulled her chair closer to the opposite edge of his desk and sat down, leaning forward and propping her elbows on the surface and looking at him expectantly. If he didn’t know better, he would think she was needling him with her overly eager interest in what he had to say.

Gigi was relieved they were finally sitting down to talk, but was nervous about how it would go since their first discussion about work matters had been a disaster, and nothing had been resolved. They also hadn’t been sleeping together then, and she was concerned about how any major discord at work might affect their personal relationship. She normally tried to avoid conflict, and she’d felt like there had been nothing but conflict between the two of them from the first day they’d worked together. This, added to the fact he hadn’t been amenable to talking things out, was worrisome. Hopefully they would come up with a way to work together without constantly butting heads.

“There are quite a few things we need to discuss, Gigi,” he started, keeping his tone light. “As I mentioned to you once before, I like my department run a certain way. Anyone who works in my department will tell you, I’m in charge for a reason. I’m good at what I do. I am the reason why this department has run so smoothly for the last twenty plus years.

“I think you can agree things haven’t run so smoothly since you started working here. It’s as if you get some sort of kick out of challenging my authority. You’ve been ignoring how things are supposed to be done, and it’s gotta stop. I can’t have you blatantly disrespecting me in front of students, parents and the other staff, and trying to take over so you can run things your own way.” There you f*cking go. Perfectly f*cking reasonable in my presentation and my points.

He is so full of himself! It took every bit of self restraint Gigi had to nod at Negan politely. She was determined not to lose her cool. “Perhaps you should clarify for me, when you felt I disrespected you?”

She has to be f*cking kidding me. The football coach leaned back in his chair staring at the woman in front of him, his defenses rising. She’s f*cking joking, right? “You want a list, Coach Sokolov? I can definitely give you a list.” He tried to sound neutral, but there might have been a little f*cking bit of indignance in his tone.

Coach Sokolov? So formal. He must be really pissed. “Please, do,” Gigi insisted, keeping her tone even, despite his obvious irritation. “I want to be sure I’m clear as to what you categorize as disrespect, so I can try to avoid it in future.”

Negan didn’t know if she was seriously clueless, or whether she was trying to goad him, since her body language and expression were unreadable, but he wasn’t going to hold back, since it was clear she needed some schooling on how her actions were affecting him and his department.

“Well let’s start with your first day here at Mount Vernon, when you disciplined my players without my approval and then ignored my request for a meeting, in front of the students. We never did settle that little matter, did we?”

Negan smiled at her, hoping he could point out the error of her f*cking ways in a manner which wouldn’t cause World War Three. He’d had a boner all morning after their tryst in the doorway, and he really didn’t want a fight to interfere with his plans to get laid in the evening.

‘Oh, it was settled,’ Gigi thought to herself as she stared at him. 'You just didn’t care for how I told you I wouldn’t be cowed by your patronizing, and attempted intimidation!'

She listened attentively as he went on to list, in excruciating, long winded detail, with a slightly warped perspective, how she also had not only decimated the school’s relationship with the Blake family, destroying any chance of future donations for the phys ed department, she’d also gone over his head to obtain the funding and make the plans for the refurbishment of the track. She’d even rooked his unsuspecting buddy, Simon, into working behind his back to coordinate the construction.

The football coach gave her a self-satisfied look as he finished his list, certain he’d helped her see the problems she’d caused, and in turn she would agree to tread more lightly in future. Hopefully, now that he had the advantage of rocking her f*cking world on a regular basis, she would back off and let him run his department in peace. Trying to go easy on her, he finished off by gently insisting, “I’m sure you can see why your actions have been problematic, Gigi.”

Looking at his watch, he started to clean up his lunch, wrapping up what he wanted to say to her. “I have to head back out to the field now, so let me make sure we’re clear about what needs to happen from now on. In future, I’d appreciate it if you would let me handle any and all administrative matters pertaining to my department and let me handle my own players, while you stick to teaching.” Negan finally looked up at her when he finished his task. She was nodding at him, thoughtfully. Good. She f*cking gets it. Problem solved.

Gigi couldn’t believe he had unloaded on her, and now considered their discussion over, just as he’d done the first time they’d fought in his office. Wondering if he could see the steam coming out of her ears, Gigi continued to nod, holding eye contact as she furrowed her brow and pursed her lips as if she was seriously considering the list of her very grievous errors. “I reeeally want to make sure I’ve heard you correctly so we can avoid any possible misunderstandings. Do you mind if we take two more minutes so I can repeat what I think I heard you say to me?” she requested in her most agreeable voice.

Negan sighed as he sat back down in his chair, looking at his watch dramatically, before he gave her his full attention. I hope she doesn’t go on, and f*cking on, with this recap.

Gigi took a deep breath before she started, “Here is what I heard you say to me. First, when one of your players announces to a roomful of students that a ‘pretty piece of ass’ has been hired to coach cheerleading, and then goes on to disparage me and my career choice by insisting he has more athleticism in his pinky finger than I probably have in my entire body, I should just hold my tongue so as not to disrespect your authority and then set up a meeting with you so I can implore you to discipline your player.

“While I wait for said meeting,” she went on, “I should ignore the rest of the insults and other disrespectful behavior I am sure will fly my way, since it will look like I didn’t have the nerve or the authority to handle the matter myself.

“Second, if a rich, self-serving parent tries to coerce my department head and my principal into compromising the quality and morale of my cheerleading squad, and invalidate my authority in order to ensure a donation, I should not, in any way, try to maintain my own self respect and reputation, or exhibit any loyalty to my workplace or workmates, by trying to halt the ongoing coercion, because my actions might make it look like you don’t have control of your department.”

Gigi watched as Negan sat back in his chair once again, the 'I'm angry' vein on his forehead starting to protrude as he squinted at her from behind his pretty, stupid eyelashes. Don’t think about stopping me now, you big man-baby, I’m on a roll.

She continued calmly, barely stopping to take a breath, “Third, I definitely should not work my rear end off to solicit donations which would pay for a new running track, even if you give me a very impassioned speech about how the new track is imperative to the collegiate futures of four of Mount Vernon’s top track students. If I do obtain the donations for a state of the art track, I should not expect any gratitude for my efforts, especially if I obtain them without your knowledge or approval, because you will consider it disrespectful. I should also not expect any appreciation if I find a construction company to do the refurbishment in less than half the time quoted by another firm. There will be no appreciation of the fact the inconvenience will be minimized for you, or the start of cross country track season in October will no longer have to be delayed.

“Fourth, I also shouldn’t expect any appreciation at all for trying to take a load off of the department head, or be proud of myself in any way, for funding and coordinating the entire project with the approval of the principal and board of education. I also understand I shouldn’t expect any excitement, praise, or appreciation from you, on a personal level - sorry, not sorry for bringing personal matters up at work - because you will not share in my enthusiasm since you will feel disrespected if you’re not included in on the plans.

“Fifth, I also understand that I am still disrespectful, even if I ask you every day, several times a day, if you’ll please sit down and discuss things with me, and you refuse. It will not make a difference to you if it's your own fault I haven’t been able to include you.”

She finished her list, staring at him for a few seconds before she questioned, “I think that covers everything, doesn’t it? Did I miss anything? Let me run through it again, quickly. Don’t disrespect you, don’t act on any misplaced loyalty, do not go over and above what’s expected of my teaching position due to a sense of misplaced enthusiasm and a desire to be helpful. Do not expect the man who shares my bed to be excited with me or for me, or appreciate my accomplishments in any way.” She co*cked her head at him, firing off her last question, “That’s everything I need to remember, in order to get along in your department, right?”

Neither of them spoke, both knowing there was no more to say. Frustrated and saddened by the thought she may not be able to change his self absorbed perspective, Gigi got up from her seat, explaining, “I think we both need to get back to work.”

Negan frowned, studying the woman in front of him for half a minute before she excused herself. After she left, he sat for several minutes, equally pissed and humbled by her take on what had happened. Ahhhh, f*ck.

Chapter 21: Negan, Gigi and Misha

Chapter Text

“There were bells on the hill

But I never heard them ringing

No, I never heard them at all

Till there was you.

And there was music

and wonderful roses,

They tell me

And sweet fragrant meadows

Of dawn and dew

There was love all around

But I never heard it singing

No, I never heard it at all

Till there was you”

The six year old boy listened to his mother sing, certain she had the most beautiful voice he had ever heard. She was singing words which fascinated him, and filled him with pride when she’d informed him she was sure the Beatles had written the song just for him.

“When you were born the world became a more wonderful place,” his mother shared as they sat on his bed, a smile on her face even as her eyes skirted to his closed bedroom door. The little boy’s big eyes followed hers, worried his father would come back into the room, shouting at him and mommy, calling both of them bad names. Names little boys weren’t supposed to repeat in front of anyone, his mother had warned him in her gentle voice.

“Why is daddy so mad at me all the time?” he questioned his mother, not understanding what he’d done to upset his father. “I try to be good, but he’s still always mad at me.”

“Sweetheart, you are good. So good! Your father isn’t mad at you. He works too hard, and he doesn’t sleep well, and it makes him cranky sometimes.”

Negan liked when his mom called him sweetheart, because it was a name she reserved for him alone. “Can’t you ask him to stop yelling at us?”

“It’s not our place to question him, Negan. We need to honor him, love him, and set an example for him, so he can find his way to God. Remember what Peter tells us in the bible? Even if daddy doesn’t obey God now, we can help him see God’s ways,” his mother reminded him of one of the bible verses she liked to quote when daddy was angry with them.

The little boy nodded at his mother thoughtfully. He knew he needed to honor his mother and father, because the bible told him so. He had learned it at Sunday school, and his mommy reminded him of the bible verse each time he asked her why daddy yelled so much.

Negan knew it was wrong, and God would probably be mad at him, but he really didn’t want to honor his father since he was so mean to him and mommy all the time. He would never tell his mommy that, or Father Benson either.

___________

Gigi had spent the first half of her day internally quivering when she wasn’t directing her cheerleaders, spotting their tumbling runs or cheering with them. Arousal coursed through her again and again when she thought about climaxing against her office door. The way Negan had turned back to her when she’d threatened to alleviate her own sexual frustration and then insisted her body was his alone to play with, made her panties a little wetter each time the movie replayed in her mind. The picture of his face, so close to hers as his fingers worked between her thighs kept popping into her head. The fresh memory of his beautiful eyes, so intently watching her, and his lips, murmuring his reassurance, telling her exactly what she’d needed to hear when she needed to hear it, had made her smile to herself more than once. She was sure her students must think she was crazy.

Somehow, he’d understood the strange mix of excitement and trepidation she was experiencing. What they’d done behind her closed office door had been risqué enough, but standing where someone could walk by and see them, even if it was unlikely to happen, had fueled her lust. All the while her brain had been screaming, “You can’t do this here!” and “Gigi, stop him!”. Her body and her brain had been on two different plains in the moment. Before Negan, the moment would never have happened. She would have balked at the idea of acting so unprofessionally in her workplace. There was also no doubt she would never have been able to loosen up enough to org*sm in in her work environment. She had been seduced by his expert fingers and his quiet reassurance; her climax so intense it had almost knocked her off her feet.

In contrast to the dreamy first half of her day, the second half of Gigi’s day was spent stewing about her discussion with Negan. She wasn’t happy with the outcome at all. Not only had he been his usual, stubborn self, but after swearing to herself she would keep her cool with him, she had once again lost her mind and ranted at him incessantly before storming out of the meeting, ending it on her terms. She had been so incensed he’d wanted to do the same thing, then she’d acted like a hypocrite and beat him to it.

She wondered if he was going to play the “I’m not talking to you until I’m good and ready to talk to you” game for another two weeks, as a result of their discussion. As she straightened up her living room after work, and touched up the bathroom to prepare for her guests, she questioned whether she would get the chance to introduce Negan to Misha. The dancer had specifically asked about meeting the ‘jerk next door’, and Gigi had assumed she would introduce them in the next few days. Now she wasn’t so sure, not knowing what to expect from Negan.

“Misha, you see the guy over there who’s been blatantly ignoring me all night? The only person I haven’t conversed with? I want to introduce you to him, but he may not want to talk to me for a few more days. And by the way, I’m sleeping with him. Why, you ask? Umm, I’m not really sure how to answer that question.” Gigi shook her head, rolling her eyes at the thought.

___________

She might be right about some of the sh*t she said.

A little bit of the sh*t.

Negan had spent his afternoon going over every single thing Gigi had blasted him for in their meeting, piece by piece, and he was man enough to admit, to himself, he’d been somewhat of a dick when he’d repeatedly refused to talk to her. He also would admit, to himself, his refusals may have fostered some of her most aggravating conduct.

Not all of the sh*t, but some of the sh*t.

As he showered after work, he decided to make a point by point list of counter arguments, since she had so blatantly tried to put him at fault for every f*cking thing under the f*cking sun. He would list off all the problems which were direct results of her actions, because he refused to let her blame every f*cking thing on him.

He worked on composing his list while he cleaned the cooler on his deck and filled it with the bags of ice he’d purchased on the way home. He tried to organize his thoughts on the matter as he loaded the cooler with beer, threw a couple of bowls of chips on the table on the deck and then cleaned the grill so he could throw the burgers on it when his people showed up. He tried to look at the problems from all angles as he hunted up one of his footballs, hoping the guys would be up for a game since he had some serious frustration to work off. Not only had he not had time to jerk off to alleviate the discomfort of the little bastard in his shorts standing painfully at attention for a few hours after watching his girl come in her office, but then she’d blasted his balls off during their f*cked up meeting. Serious f*cking frustration.

He decided he should try to put his counter points in order of most important to least important. He eventually discovered there was one problem with prioritizing the list. There was no f*cking list. He didn’t have a single god damn counter argument, when he thought about it reasonably.

f*ck me. She can’t be f*cking right about all the sh*t.

________

Gigi put her wheel of brie in the oven to soften, cut a fresh baguette into slices to go with it, and checked off the tasks on her list of things to do for her get together. Her salmon was seasoned and ready to put on the grill, along with her foil packets of veggies, so she checked those off as well. The only thing left to do on her list was bring up her bottles of pinot grigio and sauvignon blanc from the basem*nt fridge, and she would be ready for her guests to arrive.

Turning to head to the basem*nt, she stopped short when she spotted Negan, standing outside of her sliding glass doors, ready to knock. Her lips quirked up in a smile, even though she didn’t know what kind of mood he was in, his mere presence a comfort after their rift. He slid the door open and walked in without invitation, stopping a few feet in front of her. Hands on his hips, he stared at her, one hand tentatively rising as if he was going to say something, then after a moment, lowering again. Gigi waited, trying to keep her expression neutral, despite the fact his jaw was tense and his expression stern.

“I don’t like it when people mess with my department,” he finally divulged, with displeasure. There was also a bit of concession in his tone, despite his frown holding strong. “You can’t just come in and change things up, and leave me sitting in the dark. It makes me f*cking crazy.”

He didn’t sound angry, she noted. He simply sounded frustrated, with none of his usual pompous arrogance. He was trying. He was telling her, very simply, why he’d been so aggravated and how he'd felt in response to her interference, which pleased her immensely. It finally gave her something to work with. “Okay,” she acceded.

He squinted at her in his way, looking skeptical she had no argument in return. “Really, Gigi? That’s all you’re gonna say?”

“I think so,” she smiled at him. “Because I don’t think it’ll help if I let you know you could have just told me this two weeks ago and saved us both a lot of grief.”

“No, that won’t help,” he countered indignantly.

Gigi wanted to kiss the frown off his face, but instead she offered reasonably, “Would it help if I admit I should have told you I had a way around Philip Blake’s donation, when we spoke in my office before the meeting with him? If you would have known my plan, perhaps you wouldn’t have felt betrayed when I didn’t cave in to him.”

“It could definitely f*cking help, if you’d admit that.”

She could see the satisfaction in his eyes at her admission. He was warming up, but there was still a touch of agitation his tone. Closing the gap between them, she ran the pads of her fingers up and down the outside of his arms, hoping to melt him a little bit more. She also needed to touch him. A question popped into her head, and it was out of her mouth before she could stop it. Because she needed an answer. “Why are you sleeping with me, Negan?”

He co*cked his head at her, obviously confused by the turn in the conversation, even as his body and his facial expression relaxed with her caress. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t help but wonder why you want to be with me when you’ve made it clear, since the first time you stood at my front door, I’ve done nothing but aggravate you.” Gigi’s tone was thoughtful as a realization sunk in. “You’ve had so many more moments of anger or frustration with me than you’ve had pleasant moments, so I need you to help me understand why you have any interest in me at all.” She really hadn’t expected the conversation to take this turn, but the seed had been planted in her mind, and she knew it would grow rapidly and in epic proportions if she didn’t have an answer.

Negan was shocked by her question. In his mind their battles had been challenges, a test of wills with her feisty little ass to ensure he remained in control of his phys ed department. Had she aggravated the piss out of him? f*ck, yes. But would any of the work-related bullsh*t affect how he felt about her personally, outside of school? Not a f*cking chance.

Stepping into her he wrapped his arms around her, descending on her for a deep, sensual kiss which seemed to startle her at first, not at all what she’d expected in response to her query. The show of affection wasn’t over heated and crazed, yet was full of desire, gentle and thoughtful as he felt and tasted her with his lips and tongue.

He let himself get lost in her, pulling her tighter against him when her hands wrapped around the back of his neck and she took the final half step needed to stand as one with him, her body finally relaxing into his as he answered her question in his own way. Because words weren’t Negan’s f*cking thing. But this? This was his f*cking thing. And for the moment they were speaking the same f*cking language.

He lightened the kiss, pulling back to find her physically overwhelmed, struggling to open her eyes to look at him as she often did when he kissed her. He f*cking loved it. “Did you feel that, Gigi?” he purred, his lips a hair’s breadth from hers. Her eyes instantly lit up, her head nodding of its own accord. “There’s the f*cking answer to your question about why I want you,” he enlightened her. “The rest of it? The fighting and the aggravation? It's just bullsh*t.”

The doorbell rang, making his girl start in his arms. He heard one of the bedroom doors open down the hall, and Hannah’s voice exclaim, “Yay! They’re here!” Negan and Gigi stepped apart with a few seconds to spare before the teenager came into view. She gave Negan a smile and a quick wave as she ran by on her way to the door.

“You hear what I’m saying, tiny dancer?” he implored, knowing the rest of their discussion would need to be postponed until later.

Negan had called Gigi “tiny dancer” a few times, during tender moments they’d shared, and she found it precious. She smiled at him as squeals erupted behind her, and her niece called from the foyer, “Aunt Gigi! Miss Carol and Sophia are here!”

“Loud and clear,” she answered him softly, squeezing his hand and then turning to go greet her guests.

_________

Negan was standing at the grill on his deck, dividing his attention between adding cheese to half of the burgers for the assholes who’d requested it and watching his girl bouncing her way across the dock, where she was talking with Carol and Jesus, dancing dramatically as she imitated someone. The home economics teacher laughed, nodding her head in validation before she waved her arms in the same manner as Gigi had, her expression stern as she mimicked the same character her friend had portrayed, with greater exaggeration and flare. He wondered if they were imitating someone they knew in New York. The two ballerinas laughed, giving each other a high-five, as Jesus joined them in their amusem*nt.

Smirking at the women's antics, the football coach went back to his task, realizing he’d never seen Carol Peletier as happy and animated as she’d been since they’d come back to work for the school year. He wondered how much of her new found lightness of being came from leaving her husband, and how much stemmed from reuniting with Gigi.

He was plating the last of the burgers when his dancer let out a squeal of excitement, making his head whip around to see what the fuss was about. She took off running, leaping off the dock and bounding up the yard. He wondered what the f*ck had her so fired up, her smile infectious as she sprinted.

Negan finally spotted the reason for her over the top show of excitement. Mikhail Baryshnikov, the apple of Gigi’s eye, was casually sauntering down the lawn from in between the two houses, a grin on his face as he came to a halt, waiting for his ballerina to make her way to him. The football coach’s jaw clenched as Gigi ran straight into the man’s arms. Like the showy, pretentious, ballet dancing f*cker he was, the man lifted her slowly and effortlessly, in a total f*cking show of strength. With one hand under her ass, he pulled her tightly into his chest while she peppered his face with kisses for all to see, and let out a few more ear-piercing squeals.

Motherf*cking dick suck c*nt f*cking f*ck f*ckity f*ck f*cker f*cking f*ck! He watched as Gigi and the Russian c*nt talked animatedly, laughing and nodding at each other, their lips only inches apart. She was obviously gaga over her friend. He had only just arrived, yet Negan had already had enough of him.

“My, my, my,” Merle sidled up to his buddy, not able to stop himself from a bit of taunting, murmuring so as not to be overheard. “Ain’t she happy to see the petticoat wearin’ puss*.”

“f*ck him,” Negan sniped under his breath in response. He looked around his deck, almost glad to see everyone’s attention on the spectacle playing out in the yard, so his workmates wouldn’t see him stewing over it. “And f*ck you, Merle.”

“Ya keep makin’ me promises ya don’t keep, pretty boy,” Merle countered in his best bedroom voice. Then he laughed, slapping his buddy on the back before he leaned in to question, “Do ya think she’d act like that in front a ya if she was interested in sleepin’ with him?”

The coach tried to act like he didn’t give a flying f*ck his dancer was wrapped around another man, practically licking the girly man’s face affectionately as she fawned all the f*ck over him. f*ck him. He considered Merle’s reassurance, squinting at him with a co*ck of his head, nodding thoughtfully at the idea. Good f*cking point. A woman would have to be pretty f*cking stupid, or she would have to be a total f*cking snake to slobber all over a man she was f*cking around with, in front of the other man she was f*cking around with. Gigi was neither stupid or a snake. My good, honest, f*cking girl.

Misha and his girl both turned suddenly to look at the dock, a smile lighting up the dancing puss*’s face as he called, “Carol!” in his heavy Russian accent, motioning with one hand for the woman to come to him. He continued to hold Gigi with his other hand and began walking toward the dock. What the f*ck? Does he think everyone will jump at his f*cking command? And put my f*cking girlfriend down, asshole.

Girlfriend? Where the f*ck did that come from?

Gigi laughed, pushing at Mikhail’s shoulders to force him to put her down. He complied, but like the sh*thead he was, he grabbed her hand, laughing as he pulled her along with him, then pulled both her and Carol in for a group hug when they reached her.

_________

He decided he would simply ignore what was going on at the soiree next door. Gigi had invited Carol and her daughter over, along with the women of Mount Vernon’s physical education department and Paul Rovia, to meet Misha. She had wanted Negan to attend as well, but he’d informed her he was hosting his usual “happy hour soiree”, so he wouldn’t be able to make it. He’d then immediately sent out a group text, inviting his drinking buddies over for beer and burgers.

“He really seems like a great guy,” Paul filled in the men after Eugene had asked what Gigi’s famous friend was like. Jesus had been flitting back and forth between both parties, not wanting to miss what was going on at either get together.

“He’s a puss*,” Merle chimed in, jerking his chin in the direction of the neighbor’s deck. “I can see it all the way over here.”

“A puss* whose rich, Armani wearing ass was dropped off by a limo,” Abraham muttered around his mouthful of burger.

“Really? He took a limo from the airport?”

“I guess when you have money to burn, you pay someone else to drive. Why rent a car and fight DC traffic yourself when someone else can do it while you sip champagne in the back, sext with your girlfriend and let her know you’re on the way,” Shane supposed.

“Gigi’s not his girlfriend,” Jesus informed them casually, talking around the secret he was keeping for the cheerleading coach.

“How do you know?” Rick Grimes returned. He had decided to attend happy hour, and had managed to do so without Lori tagging along, hoping he would get the chance to thank Mister Baryshnikov for his donation to the school. He had also desperately needed a night out without his wife.

“Why do you give a f*ck, Grimes?” Negan questioned the man, his anger seeping through in is sarcastic tone.

“No reason,” the principal countered. “They just seem close, is all.”

“Just think about it,” Walsh added, “She had ta know there’d be some sort of expectations tied to a donation that size. I mean, why would he drop all that money on a woman without gettin’ piece of her flawless little ass in return? He’s gotta be screwin’ her, man. ”

“I’m sure he’s not, Shane,” Paul assured everyone, especially his department head. He could see the vein on Negan’s forehead starting to protrude, and if the man didn’t calm down, he’d be on his way to an explosion. He didn’t want Gigi’s get together ruined by a fist fight on her neighbor’s deck.

Merle was sitting next to Negan at the table, and he could see his friend’s hackles rising quickly in response to Shane’s crude comments. “You need to watch what you’re sayin’ about my amiga, sh*thead.” He caught Jesus, out of the corner of his eye, tapping his forehead while he tried to catch Rick’s attention. The principal immediately turned to confirm the appearance of the football coach’s ‘angry vein’.

“And you need to stop talking f*cking trash about your coworker,” Negan dropped his napkin on his plate, ready to leap over the table and pummel the co*cky son of a bitch disparaging Gigi. “You don’t talk about women like that, in general, asshole.”

“Unless she’s done something to deserve it,” Walsh countered with attitude, enjoying the rise he was getting out of the man. He had been wondering if Negan was screwing his neighbor yet, and with the football coach’s impassioned response to his prodding, he was pretty sure they were getting down and dirty.

“You best shut the hell up!” the groundskeeper shot back at him, reaching out to flick Shane’s ear with force, giving him a physical warning along with his verbal one. “I mean it, Walsh!”

“Calm down, gentlemen,” Rick tried to soothe the two irritated men. He could see they were both chomping at the bit for an excuse to go at his mouthy friend, and it wouldn’t take much more to provoke a brawl. “Shane was just joking, weren’t you Shane?” He raised an eyebrow at the basketball coach, subtly commanding him to back off.

“Ouch, man! That f*ckin’ hurt, you douche-bag!” Walsh gave Merle the finger, knowing if he smacked the man on the side of the head like he wanted to, all hell would break lose. He didn’t want to start a fight. He’d just wanted to get a rise out of Negan. Getting a rise out of the groundskeeper was just an extra added bonus. “Course I’m just joshin’,” he grinned at his success. “I know Gigi ain’t like that.”

__________

“Yer problem ain’t Gigi,” Merle had informed Negan halfway through happy hour, pointing at the Russian pansy who was flirting with Michonne and Tara on the deck next door, showing them some ballet moves which required him to step all the f*ck into their space. Even Tara looked smitten with the dick bag as he’d held her waist, tutoring her on how to keep her position while he dropped her to the side, holding her at a forty-five degree angle as she tried unsuccessfully to look graceful in his arms. Gigi and Carol were offering their advice, laughing with Tara at her lack of coordination. “Yer problem is him. He definitely wants a piece a her.”

“f*ck yeah, he does,” the coach had affirmed. He’d watched Misha from his own deck, discreetly eyeing the activity on his girl’s deck as he’d eaten dinner and bullsh*tted with his boys, and he hadn’t liked what he’d seen. The asshole had glued himself to her side, doting on her, pouring her refills of wine, helping her grill and serve dinner for her and her guests. The prick.

___________

“Again! Get your back leg up! You’ll stay in the air longer!” Misha ordered Marshall as Ron Anderson, Fat Joseph and some of Mount Vernon’s other team mates, as well as Dylan, Matt and Julian, stood on the sidelines and watched.

It had started with the teenager showing his “Uncle Misha” how he’d improved his spirals when he threw the football, catching the interest of the men on on Negan’s deck. The coach was surprised to see Mikhail had a decent arm as well, when he and the boy tossed the ball back and forth.

They watched as the dancer directed the boy to run towards him from the middle of the neighbor’s yard, and he would throw the ball over Marshall's head, forcing the teen to reach up for it. He kept tossing he ball higher, eventually throwing it so it sailed over the boy’s hands. He laughed loudly at Marshall’s feeble attempt to jump up to catch it.

“Not his strong point,” Negan confessed to Simon as they leaned on the railing, watching the action below. “We’re working on it.” He shook his head at the boy’s limited progress.

On Misha’s direction, the tutor and student switched roles and Marshall started to throw the ball to his uncle as the man ran towards him. “Higher!” Mikhail yelled on the third toss. The teen nailed his throw, the ball sailing through the air at a height which would be well above the dancer’s head as he approached it.

“Holy sh*t!” Shane exclaimed as the ballet star leapt high into the air, legs in a split and practically parallel to the ground. He caught the ball as it flew into his chest, and then landed gracefully on his front foot. He continued his run, passing Marshall with a grin, as the teen stared at him with wide eyes. The half dozen teens watching cheered in response, as did several other guests at both parties.

“Can you pull the ball into you when you catch it?” Negan called to Misha as he turned around and walked back to his quarterback. “Less chance of dropping it when you land, than holding it out to the side.” When Mikhail looked up at him, the coach mimicked the action without a ball, his hands in position to keep the ball firmly in his control.

“Sure!” the dancer called back to him, motioning for Gigi’s neighbor to join him on the lawn.

Misha quickly mastered the coach’s tutelage, and all of the men and boys, along with Tara and Michonne, were participating in the two men's lesson on how to leap and catch the football mid air, laughing or cheering as they watched each other.

“Pull your torso up as you leap, Marshmallow!” the Russian called out, using his long time nickname for the Gigi’s nephew. “You’ll stay in the air longer!”

“Come on, Marshmallow! We wanna see you f*cking fly!” Negan added, his distate for the nickname obvious in his tone.

Gigi, Carol, and Eugene approached the pair, freshly opened bottles of beer and bottled water in hand which they offered the two instructors. Both men grabbed a beer, clinking the long necks together in salute to one another.

“So I see you’ve met?” Gigi questioned them, tucking her remaining bottles of water between the science teacher’s forearm and chest since his hands were full, and sending him on his way to offer them to the boys.

“Not really,” Mikhail responded, offering his hand to the coach. “Negan, I presume?”

“Nice to meet you, Misha,” Negan shook the man’s hand firmly, looking him in the eye. “I’ve heard quite a lot about you.”

“Same.” the man smirked as he continued, “Though I haven’t heard as much lately, now that I think about it. You two haven’t been bickering as much?”

“Mish!” the ballerina admonished her friend, shocked he would bring up the troubles she’d shared with him in confidence.

f*cker. “For now.” Negan laughed, glossing over the barb. “It’s kinda fun pushing her buttons so she’ll physically retaliate.” He wagged his eyebrows at his girl as she looked on, obviously shocked by the conversation between the two men. “She’s a feisty one!” The football coach wrinkled his nose at Misha, giving him a mock shudder of excitement.

“Yes she is,” Misha agreed, winking at Gigi. “One of the things I love about her.”

“I’m just going to walk away now,” the ballerina announced, flabbergasted, looking back and forth between the two men, holding up both hands as if surrendering. She took some of the bottles out of Carol’s hands and the two women walked across the yard to where Marshall was chatting with his friends.

“What is wrong with those two?” she voiced her thoughts.

“Do you think you should go shower?” Carol asked Gigi, looking at her with exaggerated concern. “Wash all the urine and testosterone off?” They handed off the water to the teens, then she lead her friend down the yard towards the water, where they could talk alone.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” the cheerleading coach queried in return, looking at her as if she’d lost her mind.

“After they both peed on your leg to mark their territory, I just thought you might want to clean up.”

“Carol!” Gigi shook her head as if the idea was absurd, laughing uncomfortably as she considered her friend’s analogy.

“Oh, come on, Gigi! You can’t tell me you couldn’t see those two were trying to one up each other and stake their claim on you.”

Gigi didn’t know where Carol had gotten her crazy idea. While she was perturbed by their conversation, and had noticed a bit of tension between the two men, she had assumed it was their alpha personalities unknowingly trying to assert dominance. “Nooooo,” she countered firmly. “You’re being ridiculous.” She laughed, shaking her head as if to shake off the idea.

“Well, let’s just say, if I wasn’t sure if you were sleeping with Negan before, I am now. And you’ve owned Misha since the first night he met you backstage after Giselle. He’s never had a problem letting everyone know who you belonged to,” the home ec teacher teased, amused by the stunned look on her friends’ face. “You’re forgetting I saw him in action!”

“Carol,” Gigi started, pausing for a moment to consider what had been inferred. “Why would Misha act like I was his … “ She floundered for the right words, she was so stunned. “Explain … Please?” Her eyes were unfocused, her brow furrowed in concentration as she looked inside herself. She knew exactly what her friend was inferring, but she needed to hear it spelled out or she wouldn’t be able to believe it was true.

Gigi sounded so confused, Carol chuckled as she watched the woman try to slide the pieces of the puzzle together. It was clear, when her confused expression shifted to panic, she had searched her memory and had been able to validate the assertion. Carol had assumed Gigi was simply upset she was finally voicing an awkward truth, out loud, but her eyebrows shot up at the realization Gigi had been clueless as to how Misha really felt about her. My poor, stupid, stupid friend. She reached out and pulled her into a hug.

“I’m sorry, Gigi,” Carol apologized. “I thought you knew.” She pulled back and looked her friend in the eye. “You know I wouldn’t drop that kind of bomb on you so casually.”

The ballerina‘s mind was reeling a she clung to Carol. She had always thought her one sweet, romantic moment at the ABT studio with Misha was a moment of her own weakness, when she’d shown her mentor, her friend, she had a ridiculous crush on him, and he’d humored her. She’d thought it had been her moment of weakness after months of her husband belittling her, running to the one man who had always been supportive, and nurturing and kind. And loving. Very loving. And Carol was right. He’d always been a bit possessive.

It had been a moment full of conflicting emotions. She’d been both happy to finally be in his arms, and melancholy when she realized as much as she’d wanted Mikhail, she was still married to Yuri. For better or worse. And she’d still loved her husband. She had allow herself to run her hands over Misha, despite wanting so much more. She had clung to him and caressed him before she’d stopped herself and left him standing there, running out of the studio and into the snow, the cold night air jolting her back into reality. Her horrible, stressful, sad reality.

She had never allowed herself to admit to herself the way Misha had held her, and run his lips along her skin, the way he kissed the center of her collarbone, and shared her breath, had been the actions of a man who wanted her as much as she’d wanted him. Because if she had admitted to herself their feelings were mutual, it would have made her feel like she’d been cheating on her husband for years with his best friend, and taunting Yuri with it, even if they’d never physically acted on their desire for each other.

Gigi pulled away from Carol, querying, “You knew … could everyone else tell?"

“Yes and no,” the woman replied honestly. “I heard from Liza, you remember the dancer from our corps, who went to work for the ABT shortly after you did? The girls in your corps were always questioning whether you were sleeping with both men, and there was talk of a threesome which I always denied adamantly.

“Misha was always so obvious in his affection for you, even in front of Yuri, some people even questioned whether Yuri was okay with trading his wife for the lead position in the company. They knew Misha always got what Misha wanted, so they all assumed he’d gotten you, too.” Carol looked apologetic as she revealed the ballet companies’ gossip to her friend. “I always tried to quell the rumors, while I was still dancing with the NYCB, but you know how those women were.”

“How could I be so oblivious?” Gigi couldn’t hide her upset, even while she tried to keep her voice low so as not to draw the attention of her party guests. “If you were hearing the rumors circulating around my company, while you were working for the New York City Ballet, Carol, that means everyone … everyone …" she repeated frantically, “was talking about it!” She was quiet for a moment before she repeated herself, “I was so oblivious!” Looking over at Misha where he was still talking with Negan, she studied him with new eyes, and a broken heart.

“My sweet, stupid friend,” the home ec teacher chuckled, causing Gigi to smile with her, “You were too kind and too naive to hear or see something that would have never entered your own mind as a possibility. You couldn’t fathom Misha being in love with his best friend’s wife, so it couldn’t even enter your mind.” She took both of her friend’s hands in her own, squeezing them. “That kindness is the reason why the women didn’t hate you for holding the hearts of both men, once they got to know you. They wanted to hate you for it, and some of them did in the beginning, but you were so genuinely unassuming, and so sweet to everyone under you, all the way down to the janitor Charles, they just couldn’t stay mad with you.”

They also knew Misha would go head to head with anyone who messed with Gigi, Carol mused. There was a reason Liza hadn’t lasted long at the ABT, having been let out of her contract after only a few months. The woman had started many of the worst rumors about Gigi and Misha. One of the the other girls trying to curry Mikhail’s favor had ratted Liza out to him. But that was a discussion for another day.

Gigi couldn’t believe the magnitude of what she had missed, while everyone around her had been in the know. “Oh my god, I am stupid!”

“Li’l bit,” Carol affirmed with a smile, holding the tips of her index finger and thumb a fraction of an inch apart, in front of her, in illustration.

___________

The football coach was standing next to the dancer, laughing at Abraham’s attempt to leap into the air to catch the football when Misha turned to him out of the blue, informing him, “She is a very special woman, Negan, but full of drama. She needs someone special to care for her, someone in tune with her. From what she tells me, you’re a little high-maintenance yourself.”

Negan took his time considering the man’s challenge, yelling instructions to Matt for throwing the ball to Marshall. He wondered who the f*ck Misha thought he was presuming he needed to be schooled on how to take care of Gigi. The dancer was inferring he knew what was best for her, and two high-maintenance people wouldn’t be a good match because the coach was too self absorbed to cater to Gigi’s needs. f*ck that and f*ck you.

His girl had specifically mentioned she hadn’t had a chance to talk to her friend about their new relationship. It was clear Mikhail was baiting him, feeling him out, but he could also see genuine concern in his expression, and in his posture. Negan realized the man must consider him a serious threat if he felt the need to try to ward him away from his girl. My girl.

“That’s the difference between you and me, Misha,” Strangely the coach wasn’t biting back at the man. He was being honest when he informed him, “I think you view her as a drama queen because you’re used to being the center of attention. I don’t live that kind of life. Divas tend to find it burdensome to deal with anyone’s drama but their own.”

The football coach picked up a ball which had landed at his feet, tossed it back to one of the boys, expanding on his thoughts as he studied the man standing next to him. “I might be high maintenance, but I've f*cking mastered her drama.”

The Russian considered the admission, giving the coach a good-natured smirk, skepticism in his response. “Really.”

“I didn’t say it was easy,” Negan shared, finally confirming he was already aware of what it took to ‘maintain’ Gigi. The confession made them both laugh. “I’m just saying I can handle it.”

_________

While Negan was with Misha, he kept an eye on his girl and Carol as they discussed some sort of f*cking life altering issue at the shoreline. Gigi was obviously upset, toes of her right foot pointed at her friend, arms flailing gracefully. Carol looked as if she was trying to ground her. Both women were trying to act as if their discussion was lower key than it actually was. Negan recognized the upset in his dancer’s body language and features, while no one else would be the wiser, other than Misha perhaps.

Mikhail had honed in on the conversation as well. The man’s pull towards Gigi was unmistakable and Negan could read the Russian’s need to find out what was distressing her. The coach also could see Misha was losing his inner battle to leave the two women alone.

The asshole wasn’t going to beat him to his own high-maintenance drama queen, because Negan was going to be her only f*cking hero. For some unknown f*cking reason, he squeezed Misha’s shoulder, ordering, “You wanna round up everyone for a game of ball? See who’s in?” He turned and headed towards the water before the man could respond.

Negan stopped in front of Gigi and her friend, looking over his dancer, who seemed to have calmed down a bit. Carol patted her friend’s arm, giving Negan a smile before she turned to walk back to the party.

Once she had walked away, Negan ducked his head to catch Gigi’s eye. “You okay? There was some awfully serious talk going on down here.” His girl crawled out of her own head, smiling at him. “Not trying to butt in. I just wanted to be sure you’re okay.”

She knew her someday had felt her struggle from afar and had come to her, trying to save her again, her hero. As she liked him to do. Misha had most often waited for her to come to him when she needed him. Negan seemed to know when he needed to swoop in and save the day. Gigi wanted to crawl into his arms and hide there for a few days, but she knew she couldn’t. She shouldn’t even show him any affection with everyone milling around, but she couldn’t help herself when she reached for him. Fisting the front of his shirt as she’d done before to keep him in her space, she pressed her knuckles into his chest so she could feel him.

“Uh, oh, Negan. What’d you do to piss her off?” Abraham queried as he walked closer, football in hand, curious about Gigi’s clenched fist.

“Nothing, man,” the football coach insisted. “This is just her way of trying to keep her neighbor in line, since she can’t do it with her department head at school.”

Gigi’s mouth dropped open as she gasped in exaggerated shock at his dig. She tried to shove him back a step, and he thwarted her, laughing at her attempt to push him around.

“Not this time, lady!” he goaded her loudly, moving right back into her after their friends passed by. “Come to me later?” he murmured, nodding at her as if she had no choice in the matter.

“Things are probably going to go late with everyone here...” She wanted to say yes, because she knew she needed him, but she had no idea what time her get together would wrap up, and she still had to play catch up with Mish.

“You’ll come to me,” Negan ordered as he turned to walk away.

Gigi knew he was right.

Chapter 22: Honor Thy Father

Chapter Text

“Get your hands off her!” Negan yelled at his father. The seventeen year old was at his breaking point after listening to the asshole berate his mother all evening through his bedroom walls. His mother had instructed him, years before, to stay in his room when his father was “in one of his moods”.

“Don’t you mean stay in your room when he’s abusing you, mom?” Negan had questioned her on his twelfth birthday, his frustration evident in his tone after his father had shoved him, bouncing him off the door frame before he left the house, no doubt headed to the corner bar to have another handful of drinks.

“Negan! Watch what you say!” she had admonished him, even as she looked fearful of her husband’s return. “You need to be more respectful of your father!”

The boy had looked at her incredulously, though he didn’t know why he was surprised by his mother’s misplaced loyalty. She had been spouting the same garbage since he was little, though it had become more impassioned over the years, when Negan had started questioning his father’s abusive behavior more frequently.

Betty had stared at her son. He'd grown taller, and was filling out. Her boy was so handsome and so intelligent, a younger version of his father. Negan was the light of her life. He was her ray of sunshine, her love, and her warmth in a household which had become so cold and so cruel. The older he had become, though, the more he’d mouthed off to Jonah about the way he treated her. The more Negan had mouthed off, the more his father had lashed out at him in return. The back and forth had become more and more heated, until Jonah had finally gotten physical with his son, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and shoving him down the hall and into his room. It was when he had attempted to shove his son through the doorway, Negan’s shoulder had slammed into the door frame, causing him to howl in pain. The boy’s resistance and fire had disappeared as he looked at his father, his eyes wide with disbelief and disappointment. It was the first time the man had physically hurt one of them.

Betty had been right behind her husband, trying to talk him down as he pushed her son towards his room. She had stopped in her tracks when Negan hit the door frame, hand rising too late to quell the gasp which escaped her lips, not wanting to anger Jonah further. The silence which had followed was eerie. Her husband’s anger had never turned physical in the past. Even though the injury was unintentional, it had still been a result of his uncontrolled rage.

“If you would have just minded your own f*cking business, Negan, this never would have happened! It’s your own goddamnfault!” Jonah had justified himself. “Speak when you’re spoken to, boy, not before! You hear me?”

His son had continued to stare at him, speechless, rubbing at his painful shoulder with his fingers.

His anger rising when his son hadn’t responded immediately, Jonah walked over to him, pushing the boy with his chest as he’d looked down his nose at him. “Didn’t I just ask you a question, boy? Speak when you’re spoken to!” he snarled. Raising his voice, he’d repeated himself, “I said, Do. You. Hear. Me?”

Warped man that he was, Negan’s father had liked the fear in his wife and son’s eyes, and the incident had been the starting point for Jonah to push and shove and jerk his wife and son around when he felt it necessary, to keep them in line and keep them quiet. He’d never raised a hand to them, but adding a little physical emphasis to his verbal tirades was perfect, in his twisted mind, to make his points and shut his mouthy son up.

As she’d tended to his shoulder, Betty had insisted, if her twelve year old son loved her and loved God, he would respect her wishes and honor his father. He would stay in his room, no matter what he heard going on elsewhere in the house and keep quiet.

After five years of respecting her wishes, seventeen year old Negan had had enough of his father’s bullsh*t. He’d spent the last handful of years sitting in his room, stomach churning, anger festering as he had listened to the f*cker belittle his mother.

“You worthless bitch!” The thud which shook the house was more than Negan could bear, the force of the impact of his mother’s body against the wall, sickening.

Storming out of his room, the teen rushed to the kitchen to find his mother pinned to the wall. His father was pressed to the front of her, the fingers of one hand squeezing her cheeks together forcefully. Tears were streaming down her face as she trembled from head to toe in fear. Yet she said and did nothing to fight back, her eyes skirting over to her son when he entered the room.

“Get the f*ck off her!” Negan shouted at his father, knowing his vicious command was falling on deaf ears. He wasn’t going to be ignored anymore. Grabbing his father by both shoulders, he spun him around, yanking him away from his mother in the process.

Slamming him up against the wall beside her, he taunted him, “How does that feel, dad? You like having the tables turned on you?” Grabbing the man’s cheeks, he dug his fingers in as he pinned him in place with his body weight, taking pride in how the man struggled ineffectually against him. In the last year Negan had shot up in height, towering over his father by half a foot. His workouts with his high school basketball team had finally given him strength enough to physically challenge his father. He pushed his chest into his father’s, smirking at him, wanting him to know his son was enjoying having the upper hand for a change.

“Negan,” his mother’s soft voice murmured beside him, her fingers encircling the wrist of the hand squeezing his father’s cheeks, trying to gently pull it away. “You need to honor your father, not emulate him.”

Her words were like a bucket of ice poured over Negan’s head, and he turned to her, shocked to see disappointment in her expression. Disappointment in him. In all his years of watching his father act out against his mother, never had he seen her express disappointment in her husband. Having it directed at him, instead, was more devastating than his father’s most hurtful words, and physical aggression.

Jonah took full advantage of the moment, throwing out his own jab, “I wonder how your fancy college would like hearing about their star basketball player roughing up his old man? You think they’ll still give you a full ride in fall if they find out you shove your old man around?”

Negan only half heard what his father was spouting. He was still staring at his mother, waiting for her expression to soften, waiting to see her forgiveness in her eyes. Because he needed to see it. After a minute and a half holding eye contact with her, his hands dropped from his father’s shoulder and face, and he backed up, turning to walk away, because the forgiveness never came.

“f*cking loser,” he heard his father behind him. “You’re a goddamn puss*!” he spat, causing Negan to stop in his tracks.

Turning around, he charged back into the man’s space, insisting, “She may take your sh*t old man, but I won’t do it anymore.” He knew he should stop. The guilt from years of being indoctrinatedwith the notion he needed to show respect, even in the face of his father’s abuse, was hard to override, but knowing his mother was already upset with him, he felt he had nothing to lose.

All sins are equal in the eyes of the lord, aren’t they mom? What’s one more?

“I won’t give a flying f*ck if I have to give up playing ball at College Park as a result of beating the living f*cking sh*t out of you, which I will f*cking do if you ever f*cking lay a hand on mom or me again. Do you understand me?”

Jonah stared at his son defiantly, refusing to answer. Negan could see the fear in his eyes, though. He reveled in it. Using his body weight to slam his father against the wall once more, he ignored his mother’s cry as he roared in his father’s face, pushing his hand into the man’s chest slightly to emphasize each word he yelled. “Speak when you’re spoken to, old man! Do. You. f*cking. Understand. Me?”

His father never did verbally respond, but his bravado disappeared a bit more with each push, and his eyes left his son’s, his gaze moving to a spot on the floor beside them.

“I thought so,” the teen taunted him, once again turning to leave the room, throwing the man’s insult back at him. “f*cking loser.” He might be going to hell, but he didn’t give a sh*t.

His mother hadn’t said a word during the entire event, save the moment she’d quietly reprimanded her son. For the first time in his life, the sound of her starting to cry behind him didn’t tug at his heart strings. She had made her choice, and he hadn’t been the winner.

Negan’s sense of empowerment and victory was short lived, and he lay awake for most of the night, sickened at how he’d behaved just like his asshole of a father. He took no solace from the fact his actions were the only way to ensure the man would ever leave them alone. His only peace came from the determination and knowledge he would never act in a physically aggressive manner again, unless he was under threat of harm. His mother had made her feelings clear. She didn’t want him to physically protect her. He would honor her wishes.

He loved his mother desperately, but her words to him that night haunted him, slicing, like the sharpest of knives through some of the most critical and delicate threads which had tied son to mother through all the ugliness they’d shared in their lives. Threads of their mother-son bond which had been frayed over the years as he had tried not to question how she could be so weak, and tried not to resent her for allowing his father to belittle him to the point of tears when he was four, and eight, and eleven years old. He had spent years relying on his faith in God, their church and the bible, to help him forgive his father for his transgressions and to help him continue to honor his father, as his mother had begged him, despite the fact his dad was an abusive, co*ck sucking, prick.

Jonah kept his distance from both his wife and son for the three months before Negan left to live on campus as a freshman at University of Maryland. Negan enjoyed their newfound peace and the quiet as he prepared to move off to college, the lack of stress allowing him to focus on his future. A future which would not include living in the mire of tension and fear which had been the norm at 716 Maple Street for as long as he could remember.

Despite the disappointment she’d expressed in what had happened, his mother seemed to enjoy the peace as well, and she was lighthearted for the first time since Negan had been little, before his dad had become a drunken abuser. The fear which had constantly radiated off her was nowhere to be found. Her happiness gave Negan the one bit of solace he could find in the guilt surrounding his behavior towards his father.

Betty drove her son to college the third week of August in 1984, singing to him for the entire thirty five minute ride. Negan even sang some of the songs with her, her face lighting up when he would join in. He enjoyed the drive immensely, not able to remember a time when they’d had so much fun together.

“You getting tired of hearing me sing, yet, Negan?”

“No ma,” he reassured her. “You know I love being sung to.”

“You always did, sweetheart,” she smiled. “From the time you were in my belly. You would get restless in the middle of the night, kicking me to let me know you were awake, and the only thing that would calm you so we both could go back to sleep was my singing.”

Negan soaked up the tidbit of information, smiling back at her. He wished the car ride could go on forever, but they were at his new campus in no time. His mom helped him move his things into his dorm room, met his new roommate Simon, and took a tour of the campus with them both. The pair ate dinner at a local pizzeria, talking for hours as they’d never had a chance to do before, the negative influence who’d dulled their lives not present to dampen their time together.

Betty had cried, and Negan had even gotten a little bit choked up himself as they’d hugged goodbye. Not having his own car, Negan begged his mother to come and visit him, since she was so close. “We can go for pizza again, mom!” he tempted her, since they had both loved the pizza place they’d found.

She promised she would, and also pick him up for Thanksgiving and Christmas break. She never did come visit him during the semester, always having an excuse which kept her away, but she kept her promise at Thanksgiving. Negan was thrilled to see his mom’s car pull up to the curb in front of his dorm in November. Throwing his duffel bag in the back seat, he jumped in the front, excited for a drive like the last one they’d shared. It wasn’t to be. Even though his father wasn’t in the car, fear and sadness surrounded his mother once more.

Negan had hoped his threat would have kept his father in line even after he’d left for college, but he’d been kidding himself. The man did manage to behave while Negan was at home for the Thanksgiving and semester break, but the peace in his home was false, and the time he spent at home wasn’t enjoyable for him. Not that it ever had been.

_________

The phone was ringing as Negan stepped from the deck into the kitchen to get more snacks for his guests, the men ready to eat again after their rousing game of football. It was his land line, which evoked an immediate, negative, physical response. Tension radiated across his jaw and down his neck as he listened to the phone ring a second, third and fourth time before it finally stopped, his voicemail taking over the call. He had been meaning to call the phone company and have the line disconnected since he never used the house phone any more. Anyone he truly wanted to talk to called him on his cell, and had for several years. It was eleven o’clock at night, and the only person who called at the hour was his father, after he returned home from the neighborhood bar.

Once he’d graduated from college, and moved out of his parent’s house and in with Lucille, he’d had limited his interaction with his father, spending the minimum amount of time necessary with the man to keep his mother content. There had been short visits for the holidays and birthdays with gifts and a cake, but Lucille had always made sure the visits were in his parent’s home, so she and Negan could control the length of the visit. How long they would stay had been dictated by how much alcohol Jonah had drunk before they’d arrived.

Once Negan had taken his stance against his father’s abuse, the man had lightened up on his son, especially in front of Lucille. Jonah had loved Lucille. He’d tried to hide his abusive nature from her as if she was too stupid to hear his subtle digs about her husband’s job, his lost basketball career, and his general choices in life. He may not have been as loud, or as fierce, but his aim was still precise, and his son was always wounded at the end of their visits and phone calls, seething and bitter.

Lucille had outright fumed the first time she’d witnessed Jonah belittle her husband and mother in law, and made a few tactful digs in return to let the man know she wouldn’t tolerate such talk in her presence, but when she had tried to talk to Negan about it after the fact, he had told her wouldn’t discuss the matter with her, and she needed to let him handle his family. She had respected his wishes, but during their infrequent visits, if Jonah was too harsh with his family, Lucille would abruptly end the evening, making it clear Negan’s father was to blame for their departure, casually tossing out something to the effect of, “Since you’re not feeling well, Jonah, we’d better be on our way,” as she’d winked at her husband. For some unknown reason, her father in law would actually look contrite, making a show of giving her a big hug and kiss on the cheek as his way of apologizing, all while Negan had tried to look disinterested, fuming as he got out his car keys and headed for the front door.

In the beginning of his relationship with Lucille, a visit to his parent’s house had inevitably led to a fight with his wife once they got home. He had stewed in his anger as he’d driven them to their apartment. Once they’d arrive he would be sullen, and contrary, going out of his way to pick a fight with her. Negan would verbally push her, inevitably saying something to hurt her feelings, or provoke her into engaging in his negative word play. He would yell, she would yell back, and they wouldn’t talk for two days afterwards.

After two or three major fights resulting from a visit to his father’s, his smarty pants wife had informed him, in no uncertain terms, he was welcome to stew in his misery, but he needed to leave her alone while he did it, or find somewhere else to sleep until he felt better. If he couldn’t comply with her request, she’d added, she would consider finding a new place to live so he would have their big, empty, lonely apartment and empty bed to remind him what his life would be like if she left him when she got tired of his disrespect. She had given him the choice of whether he would comply, or whether she would leave. Lucille was no Betty, and it was one of the reasons why Negan had loved her so much. She’d refused to put up with his bullsh*t.

She’d told him later it had broken her heart to steer clear of him after their next few visits to his mom and dad’s and watch him wallow in his guilt, and hate, and self-loathing. He’d slept on the couch for several nights to show her he would be fine without her, and wasn’t phased by her stupid f*cking ultimatum. She’d laid in bed listening to him mutter to himself about how he didn’t need her or his family, so f*ck them and the horse they rode in on. And their horse’s f*cking horse. She hadn’t taken it personally; her husband had never sworn directly at her when he was angry, because the amazing abuse survivor behind Negan’s loud mouth exterior was determined to be better than his father. He could ‘f*ckity f*cking f*ck’ all he wanted around her and about her if it made him feel better, because she had been known to mumble about the ‘dickhe*d’ and ‘asshole’ when he’d really ticked her off. She had known where his anger was coming from, and how deep seated it was, and she knew she needed to support him while he worked through his problems. He’d needed to know she would be there for him, since he couldn’t count on his parents for love and support.

It had taken him a few go rounds with his dad, but after a particularly ugly Christmas dinner with him, he and Lucille had driven in silence back to their apartment. Instead of storming into the master bedroom to brush his teeth, and then stomping down the hall, pillow in hand, to slam open the closet door to get a blanket for his makeshift bed in the living room, he had avoided her for a few hours as she’d straightened up the house and gotten ready for bed, then he’d brushed his teeth and crawled into bed with her, wrapping himself and his melancholy around her, needing her to make it all better. Of course she had lovingly reminded him why his father’s criticisms were inaccurate, why they were unimportant, and why he was a much better man than his father would ever be. While Negan had heard her, and taken great comfort in her reassurance, the little boy inside him had still been hurt his father couldn’t find any good in him.

________________

Betty had died of a stroke a few years before, which had been a natural catalyst for Negan’s calls and visits to his father to decrease in frequency. While he knew his mother would feel he should look after his father once she was gone, Negan was okay with ignoring what he knew she would want, and with Lucille’s approval and support, had finally focused on what he needed to do to distance himself from the man, while playing just enough of the role of dutiful son to mitigate his guilt.

Negan had made his wife a promise before she’d died, to stay away from his father altogether. There was a lightness he’d felt at the idea of not having to deal with the man’s verbal insults. Luckily, over the summer, his father only called him once a month to ruin his day, and he had let the calls go to voicemail. The coach hadn’t talked to his father, even when Lucille had died, justifying himself with his promise to his wife. He had three messages from his father on his voice mail, and he hadn’t listened to any of them. He hadn’t erased them, because ignoring the man felt disrespectful enough to Negan, so eliminating the messages was a step beyond disrespect which Negan hadn’t been able to take. His mother’s words, and the bible lessons of his youth still had a place in the back of his mind and would peek out into the light here and there to remind him of their importance, even though he hadn’t been to church since he’d lost his faith when he was seventeen. When he had stopped honoring his father as a result of his abuse, he’d stopped honoring the teachings of the church, since honoring the two had always been intertwined in his life. But as was the case with religion, the hardest part to wash your hands of was the guilt. So while he hadn’t listened to the messages left by his father since June, they remained in the voicemail system because it felt better for Negan to leave them there. It didn’t have to make any f*cking sense, because it worked to keep his guilt in check.

After he put his midnight snacks on the table on the deck for his buddies, he made his way back into the house, needing a minute to himself. He sat on the edge of the bed in the master bedroom where he would be surrounded by reminders of Lucille. The simple sound of the phone ringing had troubled him, and his wife was no longer around to soothe him. And his girlfriend … girlfriend … was busy with her Russian bestie next door. He really f*cking needed his girl.

_________

“Why do you think I always wanted to work through my choreography with you, Gigi?” Misha questioned her as if she knew the answer. “I had several dozen dancers at my disposal, who would run to me when I called and who had much less rigorous schedules than you. They had all the time in the world to dance with me. I could have worked through new choreography with any one of them, but I wanted to dance with you.”

“I just assumed you wanted to work with me because you were choreographing for Yuri and I, and you knew how I moved, and …” Gigi was grasping at straws. She had always been secretly pleased Misha always did his run throughs with her, and she would have been more than a little perturbed had he danced with anyone else.

“It was all I had, since I couldn’t make love to you,” he admitted. It was harmless, and I could do it right in front of Yuri, and the rest of the company, and it was perfectly acceptable for me to touch you, and hold you, and feel you. Feel you, Gigi. And you know as well as I do, the way you dance with each partner is unique. Dancing with you gave me a piece of you no one else had, not even Yuri.”

After the football game Gigi’s guests had said their goodbyes. Marshall’s friends and some of Negan’s guests had left as well, while some of Mount Vernon’s teaching staff had made their way back onto his deck to continue their get together. She and Misha had made their way down to the dock, where they sat side by side on its surface looking out at the water. After some small talk about how he liked her new friends, and questions about how the children were doing, Gigi had gotten right to the point, unable to wait any longer to find out the truth.

“Why didn’t you tell me you loved me?” she questioned, her voice full of emotion. She had spent the entire evening mulling over Carol’s words, and replaying her and Misha’s past in her mind. She knew it was true. If she was honest with herself, she had had known it all along. She had simply chosen to ignore it.

“Why didn’t I tell you I love you?” he made the distinction between her question and the reality, rephrasing the question in present tense. Would it have made a difference?” he responded without hesitation, affirming her assumption.

Silent for a few minutes while she considered his question, she finally pieced together what he already knew. “It couldn’t have made a difference,” she revealed. “It’s not that I wouldn’t have wanted it to make a difference. It couldn’t have made a difference because I was married. To your best friend.” She shook her head, distressed when she expanded on her thoughts, “If you would have told me, it would have changed everything, whether we had wanted it to or not.” She had reached over, and resting her hand on top of his, she entwined their fingers where his were splayed on the dock, squeezing them.

“Exactly,” he affirmed. “Now you see why I didn’t tell you.”

He heard her quiet cry in the dark, her hand raising to her forehead to support it as she tried to reel in her emotions. Her elbow rested on one of her knees, which were drawn up in front of her. She couldn’t stop the tears from falling, the sadness in her heart too great to keep inside.

“Does it make a difference now, malyshka?” he whispered to her.

“It’s not that simple, Misha,” she reminded him, wiping at her tears, and under her nose with the back of her hand.

“I don’t have a handkerchief with me,” he joked, and they both chuckled at the memory of him helping her blow her nose in her shower the day of Yuri’s funeral.

They sat in silence for several minutes. There was so much they needed to say to each other and so much to talk about, but they both needed to get used to the idea there were no more constraints on what could be said, and Gigi needed time for his revelation to settle.

“Do you love him?” He turned, in the dim glow of the solar lights, to look her in the eye. Misha had no idea exactly when she had started sleeping with Negan, but he knew how her heart and mind worked, and he knew she only had room for one man in her life. She would never be able to divide her affection. It was why she had needed to ignore his own love for her while she was married to Yuri.

Gigi’s heart was tearing in two as she considered her love for the man sitting next to her, and the love which had been growing for the man she’d been sleeping with for the last week. “I’m falling,” she finally admitted, fresh tears overflowing at the thought she had missed her chance to be with a man she had been in love with for so long, because of a new, exciting man who had managed to crawl into her heart and was making it his.

Driven to comfort her, Mikhail pulled her onto his lap sideways, wrapping his arms around her as she rested her head on his shoulder and sobbed, silently. Her workmates were still on Negan’s deck, and she didn’t want to share her upset with them.

Gigi snuggled into him and breathed him in. She had wrapped her close arm around his back and was caressing his side with the fingers of one hand while she ran the other lightly over his chest, back and forth, up and down, feeling him as well as consoling him, because she could. It was nothing but innocent in her mind as she physically consoled her friend for their mutual misfortune.

Mikhail could feel her loving touch, and it was all he could do to keep himself from kissing her as he’d yearned to for so many years. Instead he surmised, “If I would have told you, it would have made us both miserable for your entire marriage. On the other hand, if I would have told you, you would have known I was waiting for you.” His inference was obvious. His pain at their lost chance was almost unbearable, choking him as he ran his hand lightly up and down her spine. They didn’t move for the longest time. She slowly quieted, and the vice slowly loosened on his heart.

It could have been ten minutes later or twenty, he didn’t know, when he finally spoke again. “He’s kind of an asshole, Gigi.”

His ballerina laughed heartily, admitting, “He can be, but there’s more to him. I’ll tell you about him this weekend.” Later, she thought to herself, because she was done with serious talk for the moment.

_________

Negan was trying to ignore what was happening on the dock. He had reminded himself several times, Gigi wouldn’t be sitting on Misha’s lap if she thought it was wrong, or would bother him. He knew that much about her. Under normal circ*mstances, while he was pissed as f*ck about it, he would have been amused at her naivete in thinking the man she was f*cking on the regular wouldn’t be upset to see her in another man’s arms. The sound of the ringing phone was eating at him, though, feeding his discontent about the close nature of Gigi and Misha’s relationship. He had not only heard the house line ring when he was in the kitchen, but he had heard it ring another half dozen times since he’d come back out to the deck to bullsh*t with Merle, Abraham and Simon. His father was trying to get in touch with him about something in particular, something he felt was urgent, and it was going to eat at Negan, not knowing what he was calling about.

He laughed at one of Simon’s jokes as he tried to convince himself his dad was on a drunken mission to make his life miserable, and told himself he shouldn’t let it get to him. Verizon was going to get a f*cking call on Monday to cut off his service. It was time.

Most of his guests had left, Walsh being the first to go after the game. He’d realized he’d pushed Negan’s buttons too much and the man wasn’t over it yet. The four remaining men were discussing the Ravens chances of going to the Superbowl. They were pretty f*cking good this year, along with Kansas City’s.

“So they’re just friends?” Simon pointed the neck of his beer bottle at the pair on the dock, skepticism heavy in his tone.

“That’s what Jesus says,” Abraham reminded them. “He and Gigi just went to dinner on Tuesday, so he’s probably in the know. He did say the two are as tight as the buttocks of a straight man goin’ to jail, though.”

The men broke into laughter, Simon challenging, “Really? Those were Jesus’s words?”

“Nah,” Merle refuted, “I think he said they were tight as a nun’s puss*.”

The men’s laughter turned to groans and chuckles, Negan arguing with a laugh, “I think those were your f*cking words, Merle, not Paul’s.”

“Ya might be right on that one,” the groundskeeper admitted with a smirk.

__________

Negan pretended not to notice Gigi stayed curled up in Misha’s lap for a f*cking hour. He also pretended not to notice, while he was cleaning up the deck after his guests left, the pair had changed positions and were facing each other, the dancing prick’s legs spread on the dock in front of him, his girl sitting in between them, facing him, with her feet behind him. They were talking nose to f*cking nose, and he f*cking hated it.

He shouldn’t do it. He should let them be. f*ck it. I’m doing it. “Psssssst!” he cat called, knowing the sound would carry through the still night air.

His girl’s response was just what he needed. Having heard the sound before, and knowing it was coming from him, her head immediately popped up from her deep conversation with Misha, a smile on her face. She looked for him on his deck, honing in on him right away. The tiki torch attached to the railing lighting his form, Negan raised his fingertips to his mouth and grandly blew her a kiss before he put the flame out and turned to walk inside, not waiting for her response. He just needed her to know he still wanted her to come to him when she could. And maybe he needed the dancing dick sack to see his affection for her, too.

________

At two in the morning, Gigi and Misha finally decided to head back into the house to get ready for bed, both of them exhausted from their long day and emotional discussion. After their heartbreaking declarations, they had moved on to lighter subjects, discussing the ceremony on Sunday, Misha’s current projects with the ABT, and Gigi’s new job. They still had so much to catch up on, and Misha was glad to have his confidant back.

“We need to go over the offer from Capezio tomorrow, and you will tell me all about the asshole,” he informed her, jerking his head towards the house next door as they walked up the yard to go inside.

Gigi would get defensive about Negan if she didn’t know Misha better. He had often referred to Yuri as an asshole in Russian. She had been none the wiser for a few years, since he always wore a smile on his face when he said it, and Yuri had always given his friend a big, cheesy grin in response. Yuri had finally clued her in, laughing about how their mentor would jokingly disparage him in front of a room full of American dancers, and they would be none the wiser. From then on, she’d had a hard time keeping herself from giggling when she heard the Misha call Yuri a “zhopa”.

__________

It was two thirty when Gigi finally made her way across the back yard and up the steps of the neighboring deck, dressed in a sleep shirt and her bare feet. She felt as if she couldn’t move fast enough, she needed her Negan so badly. Her mind and her emotions were scrambled, and she wanted him, plain and simple. Feeling his arms around her would be enough to start the process of laying her angst aside.

She needed to work through her feelings for Misha, and her feelings about their lost chance to be together, but in her mind those matters were separate from, and didn’t affect, her feelings for Negan. She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t ever thought about what it would be like to be with Mikhail, especially when things had gone sour with Yuri. She was with Negan now, though, and her feelings for him ran deep. Negan stirred and nurtured something in her she hadn’t known needed to be brought to the surface. Even though they’d only been together for a matter of days, her feelings for him were powerful enough to rival her feelings for Misha, in certain ways, which which would seem impossible given the length of her history with the dancer and the depth of her feelings for him.

The two men were so different. Misha was so open, and always had always been comfortable voicing his feelings, whereas Negan had difficulties communicating enough information for her to understand what was on his mind. He always had a lot to say, but his many words didn’t necessarily convey how he felt. He had made it clear he was uncomfortable with her overly romantic expressions, while Misha had always loved her verbal affection and affirmations. She and Negan were still learning about each other, which included how to manage their feelings for one another, so it was her physical relationship with him which kept her firmly rooted to him in the face of Misha’s proclamation of love.

Once on his deck, Gigi headed straight to Negan’s bedroom doors, since the entire house was dark, except for a low light coming from the master bedroom. She smiled when she spotted him sitting on the bed, his side to her. She stood outside the sliders for a moment, hands on the glass, watching him. He was sitting on the edge of the bed in only his boxers, elbows resting on his knees. His fingers laced in front of his mouth, he moved his head from side to side to slide his fingers back and forth along his lips. He was deep in thought, his jaw tensing and relaxing as he ground his teeth together. His brow was furrowed, and he looked as if he was in the midst of an inner dialogue, shaking his head occasionally at an invisible irritant.

Gigi was compelled to go to him, feeling his upset from outside. Trying the door she found it locked, so she tapped on the glass softly to avoid startling him. His head finally turned to her as he brought himself back to reality, and his eyebrows rose as if he was surprised to see her standing ten feet away, even though she’d knocked. One corner of his mouth quirked up into a smile as he moved to open the door, sliding it closed after she stepped over the threshold. He looked distracted as he walked past her to stand several feet away.

“Are you okay?” She made her way to him, wanting to make sure he was all right. He was struggling with something. Knowing he wasn’t the best at verbalizing his emotions, she asked him the question hoping to start a dialogue on his terms. He could respond with one word, one hundred, or none.

Negan nodded unconvincingly, his eyes finally, truly focusing on her. “You asked me earlier, why I wanted to be with you.”

It was a strange response to her question. “Yes?” she affirmed curiously.

“Why do you want to be with me, Gigi?”

She was confused as to why he had turned the question on her. “Does this have something to do with Misha?” She knew she and her friend had talked for a long time on the dock, and she wondered if Negan was upset, or jealous.

“Nah,” he walked away from her once more, waving his hand as to wave off the notion he would be upset about her friend. Restless, he moved to the dresser on the other side of the room, running his fingers along its surface before he turned to look at her again, his expression showing a bit of impatience while he waited for her answer.

“Why do I want to be with you?” Gigi responded to his inquiry, unsure what he needed to hear to quell his agitation. “Well for starters …” she began.

He made his way to her quickly and stopped in front of her. Pulling her into his arms, he cut across her urging, “Show me, Gigi?” Feeling his upset and a bit of desperation, she wondered what was behind his question. Desperation wasn’t something she would have expected from him. Whatever was bothering him was huge, and she needed to help him lay it aside. The fact he was asking for her help with something so personal was his way of telling her he not only wanted her, but he also needed her, and she was touched. She was determined to help him through whatever was eating at him, her own problems forgotten.

Molding her body to his, she ran her fingers through his hair, pulling his face down to hers. “Oh, I can show you, Negan,” she murmured against his lips before kissing him deeply. She might not be a very skilled lover, but she was confident she could show him what she felt for him, without a barrage of words which would make him uncomfortable. “Sit,” she commanded, pressing her hand to his chest to walk him backwards towards the bed. He silently followed her directive, sitting on the mattress, watching her. He looked relieved, and almost hopeful. Was he relieved she was there with him? Was he relieved she felt she could show him how she felt about him?

Gigi straddled his thighs gracefully, her delicate hands immediately exploring, her fingertips skimming along his lips before she kissed him softly. “Because these,” she informed him, nary a hint of mushy romance in her words or tone, before she teased him by keeping her mouth close to his, close enough so he could feel her, even though she wasn’t touching him.“And this … soooo good.” Too much, Gigi. Cool it.

Negan watched her eyes drift shut as she got caught up in what she was doing, her lips teasing his for a time, making it clear she liked the heat and the chemistry between them. He could hear what she was telling him, clear as f*cking day. My perfect f*cking girl. She ran her nose across his forehead and then up and down the permanent vertical line between his eyebrows which was always deeper when he looked angry or stern, which was often. “And this.”

She kissed him passionately, and he enjoyed their frenzy of lips and tongues and heavy breathing while their hands wandered and clutched and caressed. She ended the kiss, opening her eyes and giving him the slightest of nods as she panted, as if to say, “That, too, Negan,” without using words which might be unsettling. Because she f*cking got him.

Lifting his hand from her waist, she took it in both of hers, studying his palm as she cradled it in between them, gently touching the pads of each of his fingers, then running her index finger from the base of his palm to the tip of his middle finger a few times. She emphasized what she loved about the digit by running her thumb and index finger up either side, from the base to the tip, finally looking up at him and winking at him as she let out an excited little huff of breath. My dirty girl. He knew she definitely f*cking liked it when his middle finger was buried in her puss*, stroking her g spot.

Next she ran her fingernail over the top knuckle of his index finger and gave him a throaty, sexy purr, because she liked how he would bend it and pound into her cl*t when he turned his hand sideways and finger f*cked her. It was a trick he’d learned from one of the girls he’d screwed around with in college, and he growled lowly as his co*ck took interest what she was showing him.

She sat up suddenly, pulling her sleep shirt over her head and dropping it on the bed next to them. She looked down at her breasts, confessing with a frown, “Being tinies was kind of depressing thing for them, until they met you.” Her frown turned to a smile as she added, “Now they feel loved and appreciated!” His dancer laughed out loud at her personification of her boobs, and he joined her. He did love and appreciate her beautiful f*cking tinies.

Threading her fingers in his hair, she pulled his mouth down to her chest, throwing her head back and moaning with pleasure when he immediately surrounded one of the tinies with his lips and sucked forcefully, just the way she liked. “That,” she praised him as he played. While he mouthed tiny one and two, he felt her nuzzle his scalp with her nose before murmuring, “The way you smell.”

Finding his hands with hers, she patted his thumbs on either side of her rib cage and then skimmed her fingertips along the back of his hands to pat the fingers which were splayed on her back. “Mmmmmm,” was all Negan needed to hear as he supported her while she arched her back to push one of her nipples up to his lips. It wasn’t the first time his broad hands had steadied her so she could drop, arch, or lean without hurting herself. She would never get hurt on his f*cking watch.

Gigi’s hand was suddenly in his boxers, massaging his co*ck. He grunted at the sensation, and groaned a little “f*ck!”.

“More,” she insisted with a grin, because some of the many reasons she loved being with him were the sounds of his arousal.

“f*ckf*ckf*ckf*ck!” he complied when she lowered herself to her knees in front of him, pulled down the front of his underwear, and rolled her tongue around the head of his dick. “f*ck me, Gigi!” he added for good measure, and his girl moaned, turned on by his foul-mouthed approval.

Gigi went to work, sucking and bobbing as he’d taught her, lips tucked behind her teeth. She tried to swallow him, but she only managed to gag herself. After a few more unsuccessful attempts and a lot of coughing, her frustration was apparent. Negan took her hand in his, and turning her palm towards her face he ordered, “Lick.”

Negan wanted to laugh at her confusion, but stifled the urge, watching her give her palm a few small licks before she looked up at him to see if she had succeeded at her task, because she had no idea why he was asking her to wet her hand. “Let me show you,” he suggested gently. Turning her hand, he brought it to his mouth and proceeded to lick it with a broad, wet tongue, which she seemed to enjoy immensely. He chuckled as she watched him with utmost fascination, more than a little bit of heat in her gaze. Satisfied her fingers were sufficiently soaked, he wrapped them around the base of his dick. Laying one of his hands over hers, he used his other hand to push her head back to his groin, commanding, “Suck my co*ck, Gigi.”

“Mmmm, that, too,” she added to her list before she surrounded the head of his co*ck with her warm, wet lips, and he was surprised to hear his prissy girl liked it when he talked dirty. There’s plenty f*cking more where that came from.

He had made it easy for her, covering half his co*ck with her hand, and his good girl sucked as she moved forward back on him. Syncing himself with her rhythm, he began to move her wet hand in time with her mouth, moving it in the same direction, squeezing her fingers to show her the amount of pressure he liked to feel.

Gigi loved how her wet hand slid so easily along his length in time with her mouth, and she could stimulate all of him without choking herself. She did her best to keep the same pressure when his hand was suddenly gone, leaving her to do the work. Now Negan was the one throwing his head back in pleasure, which made her heart skip a beat because she was making him happy. Determined to be good for him, she set a quick pace, matching the force of her suction to the pressure of her wet hand, and her boy let out a long, happy, satisfied groan before he suddenly pulled her off his erection. Wrapping his fingers around the back of her neck, he leaned down to her, whispering between panting breaths, “My good, good f*cking girl,” then pulled her in her in for a kiss.

The whimper which ghosted across his lips in response to his praise was the best f*cking answer she could have ever given him as to how much she liked being with him. He kissed her hard, and wet and dirty, wanting to show her how she made him feel, and he ate up her panting and her moans. Reaching down between her thighs, he slid his fingers into her panties and between her folds, groaning when he found her deliciously f*cking wet. Negan caressed her cl*t with long strokes and the perfect pressure, meant to make her writhe and shudder.

“That, Negan!” His girl lost her f*cking mind, her whimpers and moans and cries coming one after the other in rapid succession, reminding him why she liked being with him. When she came all the f*ck undone in only a few minutes, she showed him, in the most intimate way, she liked being with him. She shattered into pieces, her fingernails digging into his shoulders as she shuddered on her knees in front of him, validating him without saying a word.

He swept her onto the bed and crawled between her thighs, sliding inside his girl with one slow, deep, delectable thrust. The way she eagerly spread her legs further open for him so he could press in deep, spoke volumes.

“You like the way I f*ck you, Gigi?” he murmured in her ear, and his beautiful f*cking girl immediately nodded, crying out her reverence when he emphasized his question with a particularly rough thrust of his hips.

The way she pulled his mouth to hers as he started to org*sm, so she could feel his pleasure, showed him another one of the things she liked about being with him.

He rested his forehead on her cheek as he came down from his high, trying to catch his breath. “Tell me,” he prompted her, finally in a place where he could handle her words.

She knew what he was asking her, despite his lack of elaboration, and she searched herself for a succinct way to tell him why she wanted him. Something Carol had said to her earlier kept bouncing to the forefront of her thoughts, and in the end her answer was simple one, which she hoped summed up the biggest reason why she wanted to be with him, without too many words. “Because you’ve owned me since the night you tended to my hand on the dock, Negan, and I can’t imagine being in that head space with any other man.”

Negan remained silent, nodding as he studied her, gently pushing her perspiration soaked hair away from her face, then kissing her eyes and her nose and her lips before he scooted down her body and mouthed across her belly, running his fingertips along her silky skin as he pondered what she’d said to him, letting it roll around in his mind and his soul as she ran her fingers through his hair. He tried the idea and implication of it on for size before he turned his head and lay it on her stomach, where he rested quietly for several minutes, relaxed and finally at peace.

“Me, too, Gigi,” he finally murmured, hoping it was loud enough for her to hear, since he might not be able to push the words out of his mouth again right now, even if he wanted to. Even if they were one hundred percent true, saying the words didn’t always come easily for him, especially this early in their relationship. Luckily his magnificent, tiny dancer knew as much.

His girl heard his confession, but remained quiet, not wanting to make him uncomfortable by gushing over his sentiment, even though it made her heart happy. She acknowledged his words by rubbing her thumb across his lips a few times before she went back to running her fingers through his hair. Negan closed his eyes, feeling better about himself than he had in a long time.

f*ck you, Jonah.

Chapter 23: Someday is My Favorite Thing to Think About

Chapter Text

Gigi woke up on her stomach, Negan’s lips wandering lazily down her bare spine, taking their time, stopping here and there to kiss and nip her. She purred in response, finding the contrast of his whiskers tickling her skin, and his wet, open mouthed kisses, delightful. Dusky morning light was filtering through the sheer curtains which were pulled across the glass doors at the other end of the bed, reminding her she needed to get home soon, so she wouldn’t be missed.

“Good, you’re awake,” he murmured lecherously when she opened her eyes and lifted her head, turning it to look at him over her shoulder. One of his hands slid between her chest at the mattress as he greeted her, and gently pinched her nipple between two fingertips as he continued pampering her back.

The picture of Negan, bare shoulders and tattooed chest and arms, mussed hair and sleepy eyes, made her smile. His tongue tickled the top of the cleft of her bum before it swept down the entire valley, while his fingers pushed her thighs apart so he could complete his journey down to her folds.

“Mmmmm, Negan don’t get me started. I can’t stay …” she protested half heartedly, her words trailing off when he reached his destination.

“Are you sure?” he teased her. Lifting her pelvis off the bed with a hand under her pubic bone, he sucked on her cl*t with force, making her writhe.

“Not really,” she half panted, half groaned, rolling herself onto her back in an effort to stop him from tempting her further.

Scrambling back into position between her thighs once she was settled, Negan nudged them further apart once more and began nipping at her mons, poking his tongue out here and there to taste her. “Pretty, shaved puss*,” he cooed, pulling back for a moment to enjoy the view, wrinkling his nose and giving his latest crush a little mock shudder of pleasure.

Gigi chuckled, then groaned once more when he laved her sweet spot, reluctantly pushing his head away from her body. “I have to go, really.” She sat up, once again attempting to end his glorious torture.

“I know.” Negan rolled onto his back between her legs, looking up at her from where his head rested on her thigh. He was genuinely sorry she couldn’t stay. He’d never tell her, but he f*cking hated it when one of them had to crawl out of bed and leave. He couldn’t reveal that intimate tidbit, but he did admit, “I wish you could stay in bed with me all weekend.” He turned his head to kiss the inside of her other thigh before he lightened the romantic confession with, “So I could f*ck you over and f*cking over.”

Gigi gazed at him fondly for a moment, finally responding, “Thank you.”

“For what?” he questioned her curiously as she rolled out of bed and searched for her clothes, pulling them on piece by piece.

His words may not have been eloquent or romantic, but she’d heard what he was telling her, and she appreciated he had shared. He didn’t want their time together to end. He wanted to be close to her and inside her, again and again. Since men are from Mars and women are from Venus, as she had read in John Gray’s book, while a woman needed to feel connected to a man to want to have sex with him, a man needed sex with a woman to feel connected to her. Negan was telling her he liked feeling connected to her.

Gigi was learning to read him better, and it had become clear to her, while he had a hard time expressing his feelings verbally, he was opening up to her in other ways, and letting his guard down. As they spent more time together one on one, less of his co*cky attitude was present and less swearing came out of his mouth. While she loved his dirty mouth in the bedroom, there definitely had been times when she had wished he was a little less crass. Knowing she was a bit of a goody-two-shoes when it came to cursing, she had been surprised his language hadn’t turned her off to him. In opposition, she felt it was something which added to his unique character. When he was relaxed and unguarded, his choice of language reflected it. When he was in a crowd, or irritated, the curse words flowed like water. She had noted however, that while he and his buddies would swear at each other in jest, she had never heard Negan direct his swearing at anyone to be abusive or hurtful. She respected his ability to automatically differentiate when it was appropriate to use his colorful lingo.

While he’d given her glimpses of the real man who was stealing her heart, Negan had also started letting her know in his own way, how and why she was special to him. Luckily he didn’t even seem to know when he was doing it. She suspected if he was more self aware, he would high tail it back into his comfort zone after revealing himself.

Knowing better than to make a fuss over his sentiment she returned, “Just … thank you.” Leaning over to kiss him a final time, she grinned when his fingers pushed between her thighs to tease her on the outside of her underwear.

“Mine, Gigi.” Negan’s reminder was soft but stern as he brushed his fingers forward and back. She had told him she, Misha and the kids were going to spend the day in DC, because the dancing asshole wanted to see the Monet exhibit at the National Gallery of Art. The idea of it made Negan bristle, even if his girl only looked at Mikhail as a friend. Just because he’d been sort of civil to the guy didn’t mean he was thrilled they were cozying the f*ck up for a few days. The besties were too damn close for his liking, especially since the twirling f*cking twinkie wanted in her panties.

Gigi smiled at his possessiveness. She reassured him gently, “It is yours Negan. Only yours. I honestly don’t need the reminder.” She was being honest. As much as she loved Misha, Negan had staked his claim on her heart, and that wasn’t going to change because of Misha. Her mind and soul were already committed to him, even though the relationship was so new. What was going on between them was very intense, and she was already in too deep with him to consider acting on her best friend’s confession. Winking at him, she stepped onto the deck and slid the door shut behind her.

My good f*cking girl.

Negan stroked his now flaccid co*ck a few times as he lay on his back staring at the ceiling, swiping his fingers across his upper lip, still wet with her arousal, he brought his fingers to his nose to take in the scent of his girl. Massaging her lubrication into the hairs of his mustache and then inhaling deeply, he was satisfied with the result of his sniff test and made a mental note not to wash it off when he showered. My own personal f*cking puss* scented air freshener.

_________

Gigi was awakened by a knock on her bedroom door at eleven, Misha’s voice calling, “You alive in there?” Barely. She had come back from Negan’s, taken a quick shower and passed out again in her bed.

“Come in!” she grumbled loudly, eyes still closed. Normally a morning person, she rarely slept past seven on the weekends, always finished with her mile-long written to do list by nine or ten. Her late night trysts with Negan were changing her slightly OCD habits, and surprising to her was the fact she was okay with it.

Her door opened, and Mikhail walked in, carrying a tray in his hands. She groaned, rolling over and opening one eye to look at him. “Watcha got?” she rasped, eyeing the tray, yawning while she stretched under the covers.

“Breakfast,” he grinned at her as she sat up.

“What?” Gigi queried at his sudden smile, looking down at herself curiously.

“Take a look,” he gestured towards the mirror over the dresser with one of the fingers holding the tray as he set it down on the bed next to her.

Turning as he’d directed, she took in her reflection, and immediately laughed at the state of her hair. She had fallen back to sleep with a wet head. It was now dry, and very much resembled a bird’s nest. Running her fingers through the mess, she grinned at him, then looked over the feast he’d set down beside her.

“You did all this for me?” she raved, touched at his efforts. “But you’re supposed to be my guest. I should be making breakfast for you.” There was a large platter with scrambled eggs, several slices of bacon, a variety of cut fruit and two cups of coffee. He’d done an excellent job raiding her fridge.

“We both know you’re no cook, Gigi,” he teased her, crawling onto the bed next to her and stacking the pillows against the head board as she did the same, sitting back against them. Scooting until he was thigh to thigh with her, he pulled the tray onto their laps and handed her a fork. “I fed Marshall and Hannah as well. I figure it’s probably the first decent meal they’ve had in a long time.”

She raised an indignant eyebrow at him picking up a piece of bacon from the plate and took a bite. “I’ll have you know I make them dinner most nights of the week.

“They are tired of salad and fruit, Gigi, and tearing lettuce and cutting cantaloupe doesn’t count as making a meal.”

She frowned at him, wrinkling her nose and blowing a huff of air through it in discontent. “They are exaggerating just a little bit. We usually have meat with our salad and fruit.”

“Usually?” Misha co*cked an eyebrow at her, letting her know he wasn’t buying her attempt to convince him she was providing well rounded meals for the kids. “So tell me about him,” he ordered, changing the subject as he pushed all the strawberries to her side of the plate with his fork, and pulled all the kiwi slices to his side. Soon after they’d met Misha had discovered Gigi was a food thief, shamelessly stealing a bite of this and a smidgen of that from his plate, which made him absolutely crazy, especially since she never asked before she helped herself. He would try to thwart her by giving her some or all of the foods she liked best, before she had the chance to steal them.

“Mmmm, perfect,” she hummed as she took a sip of her coffee. He had put just the right amount of half and half in it for her, as he always did. Gigi was buying herself time, trying to figure out exactly what to tell him. She found the idea of talking to him about Negan uncomfortable, after his admission the night before. “The friction between us has settled. He’s very protective of his physical education department and his students, which is what initially created the friction between us,” she explained. “His idea of what was in their best interest felt like it was being threatened when I swept into his workplace and stirred things up. He doesn’t like anyone messing with his stuff.”

She was not only summarizing the discord for Misha, but for herself as well, so she could put it to rest. Negan had only clarified the reason for his upset the day before, and reassured her the foundation of their romantic relationship was solid. She hadn’t even had time to process their conversation, having jumped right into her get together after his confession, then into her tumultuous conversation with Mikhail, and then into the coach’s bed.

“We actually settled all the misunderstandings surrounding the funding for the track yesterday,” she added, stealing one of the pieces of kiwi from his side of the plate. It was one of her least favorite fruits, but she knew it made him crazy when she stole his food, and she couldn’t help but poke him.

Rolling his eyes at her horrible table manners, he admonished, “Just ask, Gigi. You know I can’t stand it when you do that.”

“I know,” she grinned at him slyly, utterly enjoying his dramatic exasperation.

“You’re a pain in my ass,” he teased her, before he continued his questioning. “So you started sleeping with him even before you worked out your differences?” his judgmental tone was clear as day. They had always been brutally honest with each other, calling each other on questionable decisions and actions. Misha didn’t know if he really wanted to hear her answer, but his curiosity was killing him. He had be struggling with the idea of someone other than him and Yuri getting close to Gigi, ever since he’d figured out she and her neighbor were together.

“Do you really want to talk about my relationship with another man, Mish?” Gigi pressed him as she absently pushed their scrambled eggs around on the plate with her fork. If she were in his place, she would be upset at the thought of him with another woman.

Misha picked up a piece of cantaloupe with his fingers, staring at it for a few seconds before he finally put it down again. He laid back on the pillows behind him and stared out the French doors at the water beyond. “I don’t know, Gigi.” He was quiet for a moment, taking a sip of his coffee while he mulled over her question.

Finally turning to her, he admitted. “I would like to say nothing has changed between us since Yuri passed away, and you should be able to talk to me about Negan just as you talked to me about Yuri, but I’d be lying if I told you I hadn’t thought about what it could be like for us, now that you’re available.” He shook his head as if he were struggling with his thoughts. “And I’d be lying if I told you I don’t hate that you are with him.” He turned to look her in the eye, resolute in his pledge, “But above everything else you are my friend, malyshka. You are my family. I love you, and I want you to be happy, even if it is with the asshole next door.” He smiled half-heartedly. “I want you to be able to talk to me about anything and everything, just like you always have. Including him.” Shrugging his shoulders at her, he picked up the chunk of cantaloupe again and took a bite, chewing it slowly.

Gigi fiddled with her coffee mug as he concentrated on his food. She’d had feelings for the man next to her since the first time they had danced together, and had often secretly yearned for Yuri to be more like her Misha. Now that her marriage wasn’t standing in the way of finding out what it would be like to be romantically involved with him, she wouldn’t take the step because of her feelings for Negan. She was happy with her choice, but it didn’t mean the lost opportunity didn’t hurt.

Hearing her sniffle, Mikhail reached over to the nightstand next to him and pulled a Kleenex out of the box resting there, holding it in front of her with his index and middle finger. “At least with me in your life, you’ll always have someone to hand you tissues when you need one,” he teased, making her laugh. She took it from him and blotted the start of tears in the corners of her eyes before going back to eating her breakfast.

“Like Rhett Butler and Scarlett O’Hara,” she mused.

__________

“It’s about f*cking time we got a raise,” Negan complained. “I mean how long has it been?” He, Merle and Shane were sitting at the bar at Herschel’s Pub in College Park, a few blocks away from his alma mater. They had a few hours to kill before the Terps game started, and had settled in for libation and food. Knowing the department head could hold a grudge, Shane had been smart enough to apologize for talking smack about Gigi the night before. Negan, being the magnanimous spirit he self-admittedly was, had let his anger go in favor of a good time.

“Four years, amigo,” Merle informed him.

“Four years and what? They’ll give us a whopping two percent cost of living increase? You can barely buy a damn pack of hot dogs with two percent,” Shane grumbled.

“I got their hot dog right here.” Negan grabbed his crotch, threatening in all seriousness, “I’ll show them what they can do with their two f*cking percent.”

__________

“If we’re going to do it, I think we should push them up to a minimum of five million each,” Gigi suggested.

After they had finished their breakfast, she had broken out the orange spiral notebook she always used to write out her lists and organize her ideas, and she and Misha had reviewed the offer they’d received from Capezio, one of the leading manufacturers of dancewear.

Right before Yuri’s health issues started, the company had pitched the idea of a trendy clothing line for dancers, branded with the couple’s names. They had wanted Gigi’s name and image on their new women’s line, and her husband’s on the menswear. Yuri's health had declined before negotiations had started, and at the time the company had deciding against finding replacements for the ad campaign.

Once Yuri had passed, the company had wasted no time changing its advertising strategy, and approached Misha one month after his friend’s death to ask if he and Gigi would consider the idea of the joint ad campaign. Since the dancers could influence the timeline for the marketing and production, they could ensure a respectable lag between her husband’s death and the publicity. Mikhail had urged Gigi to consider the offer, and she agreed to look it over with him. She had to admit to herself the thought of working with the company was enticing.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Misha agreed. “Five million is a minimum.”

“I think it’s more than reasonable,” she validated before questioning, “You don’t think jumping from the two and a half million they’ve offered to five million is too much?”

“Two and a half million is a joke, Gigi. We want at least five million, but we’re going open the discussion at eight million …” he paused as he formulated their strategy, “…which is high, but will give us room to negotiate. Five million will be the lowball figure they’ll throw back at us to consider, and we’ll probably settle somewhere between six and seven.” He motioned with his index finger for her to write down their list of counter offers. “So we want to start at eight million, we’re putting a question mark next to a percentage of the profits, we want final say in the designs …. I’ll send the list to Yumiko to finalize …”

“No, I want to work with the designers to create the line,” she cut across him. “I’m not waiting until the designs are complete to give a yay or nay. You know my standards.” She changed topics, asking, “How are she and Magna doing? I haven’t seen them in sooo long!”

“Shoot! I forgot to tell you!” Misha wasn’t phased in the least by Gigi’s jumping off track. They had always talked about several things at once, and had mastered compartmentalizing their different areas of discussion, in order to respond to each other appropriately. “They broke up last week. Couldn’t work out their differences. I know you are too much of a control freak not to have your hands in the designs,” he goaded her. “Are you talking about helping design the women’s line, or my line as well?”

“Do you really want someone other than me to help design clothing that will carry your name, Mish?” Gigi pursed her lips at him and gave him a look before lamenting, “That’s such a shame. But I know they’ve been struggling for a while now.”

“Good point ... about both matters.” He refocused on their business discussion. “You do know what I like. Will I have a little bit of say in the designs for men?”

“Maybe.”

__________

“Yer ballerina’s been busy today,” Merle informed Negan, as he scrolled down the screen on his cell phone. Shane had walked outside of the restaurant to take a call from his girlfriend, so the men could talk freely. The football coach and Gigi had been keeping their relationship to themselves for a number of reasons, so his girl’s name hadn’t come up at the bar, other than when the groundskeeper had mentioned the Kennedy Center Honors the following night.

“She’s posted some stuff on her Instagram. The Rusky is keeping her busy, running her and the kids around DC,” Merle informed the coach once Shane had stepped away, turning his phone so the other man could see the screen.

“She has an Instagram account?”

“Yep, with one point two million followers,” the groundskeeper informed his buddy. “Her Twitter account only has eight hundred ‘n seventy nine thousand.”

“Only.” Negan was once again surprised by the interest in a ballet star. It was slightly surreal Gigi was known all over the world. He had overheard her telling Merle she had given up New York and moved back to the area to care for her niece and nephew. He knew she missed dancing, but couldn’t help but wonder if she also missed being in the limelight, and her high-class lifestyle.

Holding the phone at arm’s length, Negan studied the tiny photo. Realizing he couldn’t see dick without his reading glasses, he used two fingers to blow up the first image. In it, Gigi, Misha, Marshall and Hannah were standing in front of Monet’s Nympheas which was on display at the National Gallery. Gigi’s bestie had his arms around her and Hannah, pulling them in close to him, while Marshall stood behind Hannah, looking over her shoulder. The foursome was obviously having a good time, bright smiles on their faces. Underneath the photo was the caption, “Gigiballerina1 My loves, my life.” f*ck him.

The caption stuck in Negan’s craw as he swiped up to see the next photo, which had also been taken earlier that day of his girl and the dick suck posed alone together. f*cking f*cker. He tossed the phone back at Merle, rolling his eyes in response to the posts.

My loves…I know she loves the f*cker. But does she love the f*cker? While Gigi had assured him that very morning he was the one and only man she wanted to give it up for, he hadn’t thought about how she might feel about the prancing asswipe. My loves, my life. Loves. All three of them. f*ck.

___________

5:15 Gigi

I wanted to run over

And show you

my dress, but I’m

running late. Limo’s

here. Promise you’ll

watch?

Negan was running errands on Sunday afternoon, and was pulling into a parking spot at Home Depot when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He kinda f*cking liked the corner of the device in his pocket was pressed up against his co*ck underneath the seatbelt, and the sensation gave his dick a little jolt when it went off. It’s the little f*cking things in life.

He read the notification on he home screen, and seeing there was a photo attached, he opened the message. As he did, another message appeared on the screen.

5:16 Gigi

What do you think?

The football coach scrolled back up to the photo, and stared at the picture she’d sent. Holy f*cking hottie, Batman! He was looking at a headshot of his girl, and she was absolutely f*cking stunning, her hair and makeup styled and applied in a way he’d never personally seen before. Fuuuuuck, f*ck, f*ck, f*ck, f*ck. Her normally wavy hair had been slicked back, showcasing every gorgeous inch of her face. Her eyeshadow brought out the color of her eyes, and fluid black eyeliner mimicked cat eyes, the tapered ends drawn beyond the corners of her eyelids. Her full lips were painted with light shade which didn’t draw the attention away from the rest of her face. Her make up people had obviously played up her best feature. Her beautiful f*cking eyes.

Another photo popped up on the screen as he ogled the first. This one was a side shot, angled so he could see her ponytail, which was cinched at the nape of her neck. Either her hair had grown eight inches overnight, or she had new hair extensions. The tail was straight like the front of her hairstyle, the color perfectly matching her own.

5:17

No words.

5:17

Ok, maybe these-

Stunning

Incomparable

Wow

5:18 Gigi

<3 <3 <3

Wish you could

come with.

You’ll watch?

5:19

Of course I’ll

watch, tiny

dancer.

5:19 Gigi

You make my

heart sing.

The football coach grinned at the message. Big, fat puss*. He had talked to his girl after he’d returned from the game the night before. They had started texting to check in after their equally busy days, but after a half dozen messages back and forth he ditched his efforts mid text, and called her instead. It had been their first phone conversation and it had been a conversation about nothing important and everything important.

“The game was a downer. Cowan hasn’t been able to find his f*cking mojo for a while now.”

“He really hasn’t. What’s it been? Four or five games since he’s done some decent shooting?”

“Wait, what? You watch basketball, Gigi?”

“Yes, Negan,” she’d laughed. “Believe it or not, I’ve even been seen sitting courtside at Knicks games.”

___________

“G ‘n M, off the Baltimore beltway. Best crab cakes. Hands down.”

“Oooh. You need to take me.”

“It’ll f*cking cost you, sweetheart.”

“Worth it!”

___________

“…and once I got started, I found moles had dug up most of the bulbs Irma had planted, and they’ve burrowed under the front walk. I was heartbroken! I loooved her garden in the spring. ”

“That seriously bites. I can help you smoke the little f*ckers out of there. I had to do it a few years ago. Worked like a charm.”

“But will it kill them? I don’t want to hurt them, Negan.”

“You have got to be f*cking kidding me, Gigi.”

___________

“What are you wearing?”

Laughter erupted on the other end of the phone.

“You have got to be kidding me, Negan.”

He had found it interesting, without the distraction of work, or other people, or sex, their conversation had come easily. It had not only been their first phone conversation, but it had been a first date kind of conversation, which was a little amusing since they’d been f*cking around for a week. Other than Gigi sharing her back story with him the morning after they had first slept together, and their lengthy disagreements at work, which didn’t f*cking count, they’d had little opportunity to talk in between all the sex and fighting.

Negan had called her shortly after eleven, and had hung up the phone at one-thirty in the morning strangely satisfied, feeling like his day had ended on the right note. He’d lain awake for almost an hour replaying some of what they had talked about, content in the thought it seemed there might be more to his relationship with his girl than just sex. It had definitely entered his mind, on more than one occasion, it would suck ass if the only thing they had going for them was sex. The fact he gave a f*ck about the matter told him he was more than a little invested in his girl.

___________

Absolutely stunning, malyshka!” Misha held both of her hands in his, arms spread wide, as he studied her from head to toe. Releasing his grip on one, he used the other to turn her so he could get a three hundred and sixty degree view of her. “But then you always are,” he added softly, once she was facing him again, nodding in his approval.

Gigi stepped closer to him, and fingering the bow tie at his throat she disclosed, “I feel very honored you chose me as your date for this evening.”

“Who else would I choose?” he challenged her gently. “If Yuri were here, both of you would be sitting with me in the balcony, sharing the honor with me.”

When she raised her eyes to meet his gaze, she could see the pain in his expression. She suddenly felt as if she had been very self absorbed. Despite all of the sadness, stress and frustration which had accompanied Yuri’s health over the last few years, they had both lost something precious to them. She had tried to support him when Yuri’s health failed, even as she struggled with her own problems, but sometimes she lost focus of the fact Misha had lost his best friend when she’d lost her husband. He had always been so strong, trying not to let anyone see what he perceived as his weaknesses, and on the outside he had seemed very stoic about his friend’s death. Gigi had always known when Misha was trying to hide his upset, though, and she had tried to support him and lift him up as much as he’d lifted her, even though they’d been separated by many miles. Seeing his pain, she wondered whether she had failed.

“He was so proud of you, Misha … when they announced you had been chosen as this year’s honoree. He was always so in love with who and what you are. You are everything he always aspired to be, and he felt so special you chose him as your best friend,” she revealed. After a moment of quiet Gigi broke into a huge smile, teasing, “As if there were several men and women lined up and vying for the position!”

Mikhail chuckled at the picture she had painted, then raising the back of her hand to his lips he kissed it, demanding, “Let’s celebrate Yuri tonight!” He was surprised when Gigi shook her head no.

“Tonight is about you, Mish. Let’s celebrate you tonight, and we can step into the next place we need to be, where we set aside all of the angst of the last few years, and remember all of the good times we had with your favorite zhopa. I think I am ready to go there.”

“That would be perfect, malyshka.”

_________

At seven twenty, Negan’s doorbell rang unexpectedly. He opened it to find Simon standing in front of him, a twelve pack of beer in each hand.

“What the f*ck are you doing here?” the football coach questioned.

“Merle said we’re tuning in to watch Gigi at the awards thingy.” His tone suggested he had assumed his buddy was aware he was having people over. “He said he’d pick up the pizza and meet me here.”

Negan swung the door further open and stepped aside so his buddy could walk in. “Is he getting that f*cking cheesy bread with the garlic sauce?” he inquired with interest, unfazed by the fact there would be an impromptu party in his home.

“Is our president an orange sociopath?”

“Excellent!” Satisfied with Simon’s response, he followed him into the kitchen, where he pulled his magnetized opener off the side of the fridge and cracked open two beers with it. “Laura didn’t give you a raft of sh*t about partying on a Sunday?”

“Hell, no! She knows who calls the shots in our house,” Simon bragged. When Negan raised one eyebrow skeptically the man added, “She’s at her sister’s.”

“Ahhhh.”

“Hidey Ho, assholes!” Merle’s southern twang called from the entry way. He appeared a few seconds later, carrying six large pizzas and tailed by Daryl, who carried a bag sporting the name of their favorite pizza place, as well.

“Is that my f*cking cheesy bread?” the football coach demanded, already reaching for the item in question. “Six f*cking pizzas? How many f*cking people did you invite over?”

“Why the hell ain’t your tv on?” Merle questioned as he opened the top drawer on the island and pulled out three stacked trivets with his empty hand. “Red carpet starts in ten minutes!”

“Why is he so familiar with the time table for tonight’s event?” Simon questioned his buddy across the island. “I find it a little unsettling.”

Negan eyed the table protectors in his Merle’s hands, shaking his head with a smirk. “Man, Lucille trained you right, didn’t she?” Turning to the track coach he answered, “Because his f*cking tiny bestie probably called him to fill him on every detail of the ceremony.”

“You got a problem with that?” the redneck questioned from across the room.

“Not in the f*cking least.”

“Then quit yer yammerin’ and get some paper plates,” the groundskeeper grumbled as he headed into the family room. “And open me a goddamn beer!”

“Did someone say beer?” Abraham appeared in the kitchen doorway. His arm shot into the air suddenly, and he was successful in catching the long neck bottle which had been rocketed in his direction by Simon. “Well this doesn’t do me any damn good without an opener, pal,” he criticized, walking directly to the couch, assuming someone would toss him the needed implement. Pulling one of the pizza boxes from Merle’s hands, he sat down, resting it on his lap. “And I don’t need a paper plate.” Lifting the lid, he tore one of the wedges out of his pie. Folding the slice in half lengthwise, he took a hefty bite out of the end as he simultaneously closed the box.

“You a little f*cking hungry?” Negan challenged him eyeballing the box in his lap.

“I am a large man,” Abe responded with his mouth full. “And I’m going to eat a lot of pizza to make up for that fact.”

“Yes, asshole, I heeded your better half’s life lessons,” the groundskeeper finally responded to his friend’s dig, arranging the stack of pizzas on top of the trivets. “If my impeccable manners help me catch a gal half as good as Lucille, I’ll be doin’ good fer myself.”

Negan grinned at the memory of Lucille mother henning Merle, as he watched the man move a coaster across the table in preparation for his cold beer. Every single time the redneck had set his beer on the unprotected wood of the coffee table, Lucille had lectured him, and the next time Merle would come for a visit he would do the same f*cking thing, grinning at the football coach when she would start bitching at him.

Ten minutes later all five men were comfortable in the space, beer and pizza in hand as Merle shushed them. Pointing the remote at the tv, he cranked up the sound. “There’s the first limo! Shut up, ya bunch a jabberin’ dicks!”

“What? Do we need to hear the sound of the f*cking limo pulling up?” Negan goaded him.

“No, but everyone needs to hear me tell you to suck my co*ck,” Merle fired back setting the remote down and turning his attention to the television.

Kelly Ripa was suddenly on the screen, introducing herself, giving a short history of the yearly event and narrating the obvious. “Such an exciting night ahead of us! The first limo is pulling up, folks …”

“She is too f*cking skinny,” Negan commented, his mouth full of pizza.

“I would have to agree with you there, my friend,” Simon chimed in.

“I’d do ‘er.”

“And what the hell is she wearin’? Them ruffles around her neck are ugly as all git out.”

“Definitely not flattering,” Abe added his two cents, grabbing another beer from the mini cooler beside him and popping the top. “And the cut of that dress she’s wearin’ isn’t either. But I’d still do ‘er.”

“And what’s with the f*cking dark pink crap on her eyes?”

“No kiddin’! What the hell kinda color is that?”

“Hand me one, would ya?” Daryl piped in five of the dozen or so words he would speak over the course of the evening, always a man of few words. Negan gave Merle’s brother a sideways glance, amused at how he wouldn’t take his eyes off the screen and simply reached in Abe’s direction, assuming a beer would make it into his hand at some point. He would have found the man’s fascination with the scene on the tv strange, but he found the other three men seated on the couch, love seat and floor were staring at the screen just as intently. When in f*cking Rome … He turned his attention back to the television.

“Her hair looks good, though,” Simon admired. “Even if the ruffles suck.”

“I like that messy, curly, I just got f*cked look,” Negan agreed, wiggling his fingers in the direction of her head on the screen.

Daryl grunted around his beer bottle in agreement.

“It’s Liza Minelli!” Kelly’s cohost, Derek Hough announced on the screen as the star stepped from the limo, dressed in head to toe sequins. The woman’s over the top, fake eyelashes just about tapped the end of her nose when she blinked and gave a wave to the crowd, who roared in adulation. “You know she and Mikhail have danced together many times. Their primetime special, ‘Baryshnikov on Broadway’ won four Emmy’s and was nominated for two others.”

“Can you imagine waking up next to Liza after a bender?” Negan grimaced. His buddies all shuddered with him at the thought.

“For God’s sake, I’m eatin’ here, man!” Merle complained.

“And look who else just arrived!” Kelly gushed, as the camera shot shifted to one of Gregory Hines buttoning his tuxedo jacket after getting out of his limo. “Gregory and Mikhail were in the move ‘White Nights’ together.”

“Now that man can dance!” Simon announced his appreciation. The other men turned to raise and eyebrow at him in question. “What? I appreciate fine tap dancing!” He defended himself. “It’s an underrated art, I’m telling you.”

After fifteen minutes of big and small names in show business and dance walking the red carpet, Derek Hough announced, “Finally, our man of the hour has arrived!”

Negan found himself leaning forward in his seat in anticipation of the first glimpse of his girl. When he realized what he was doing, he glanced around to see if anyone had noticed, casually taking a swig of his beer. Luckily Merle was practically perched on the edge of his f*cking seat, so Negan rested his elbows on his knees and waited.

_________

In the limo, Misha filled Gigi in on the evening’s schedule, and they had discussed how they would present themselves. The ceremony would be easy. They would pose, and answer questions in a short interview, making sure they were eloquent in their appreciation of the prestige of Misha’s award.

The gala required much more discussion, Gigi insisting she wanted to be a supportive shadow once the walk up the red carpet and interview were over. Misha needed to be the figure in the spotlight for the evening. Her date felt she was being ridiculous, but she would hear none of it, shushing him when he insisted her presence was just as important as his.

Gigi also reminded him she was concerned about the public’s perception of her attendance. She would need to be hyper aware of the cameras which would be pointed in her direction all evening, and the immediate social media postings of her every smile and laugh for the harsh judgement of the world. If she looked like she was having too much fun, she would seem as if she was callous about her husband’s death. She shook her head, wishing she didn’t have to worry about how she presented herself, but she knew not only would their mutual fans be watching, but her former colleagues would be watching as well. It wasn’t about putting on a false show for them. She was concerned about respecting Yuri’s memory. She would never want anyone to think she had been anything less than devastated about losing him.

“You have a good time, Mish. You’ll have a million partners to choose from on the dance floor. You and I will eat together and make rounds to talk to people together. Then I’ll enjoy watching you having fun. Liza will want to steal all your dances anyway.”

“But you need to have a good time, too,” Mikhail knew his wish was falling on deaf ears.

“I will have a good time. I’ll have a good time watching everyone love and appreciate you,” she reassured him.

He rolled his eyes at her, but acquiesced, “Alright, Gigi.”

__________

A collective whistle of appreciation went up in Negan’s family room, the host of the party murmuring, “Fuuuck me,” when his girl stepped out of the limo.

‘The man of the f*cking hour’ had stepped out first, to the roar of the crowd, and he smiled in response for exactly ten seconds, posing for photographers before he turned his attention back to the car and held out his hand for his date. To Negan’s delight, one beautifully toned leg appeared, peeking out from between the long slit of a deep purple dress, the toe of strappy high heeled sandal lowering to the red carpet next to the vehicle before the rest of Gigi finally emerged gracefully from the car to stand next to Misha where they remained for several seconds, hand in hand, surveying the crowd. Negan let out his whistle and his proclamation, mesmerized by the woman on the television screen. All f*cking mine. He frowned when the crowd, which had still been applauding Mikhail, suddenly fell silent as people started to register the identity of his date.

“Oh, sh*t,” Merle murmured warily, wondering why the appearance of his amiga was killing the moment. “What the …”

Oh, f*ck…

__________

Oh, no. Oooh, no. Oh, no! Gigi squeezed Misha’s hand tightly when she heard a hushed, ‘Oh my God! Gigi came with him?’ among the murmurings of the crowd on the sidelines. She tried not to show the panic she was feeling at the everyone’s obvious disapproval of her attendance, never having imagined their response would be so harsh. It was all she could do not to dive back into the limo and beg the driver to speed away from the scene.

Misha sensed her panic, even though she was hiding it well. Squeezing her hand back he stepped closer, pressing his chest to her side. Leaning into her he ordered lowly, “Look at me Gigi,” so no one else would hear him. He needed to ground her, and fast. She turned, bringing her eyes to his, and a tiny, false smile of a woman who was hiding her devastation formed on her lips. He moved his lips to her ear and whispered, “It’s okay. It will be fine, I promise … I’m sure they are just surprised to see you … it will just take them a minute,” he promised her, hoping for her sake it was true. “Focus on me…” he soothed her, his nose never leaving the side of her face. He nodded his head, and grinned and raised his eyebrows as he continued to mollify her, so it would look as if he were sharing a story, or a casual bit of information, acting as if what was happening in the crowd was not registering with them. Then he heard it.

__________

“What the hell is happenin’?” Merle worried aloud.

Even the show’s hosts were eerily silent for several seconds before they finally started to chatter inanely to cover the horribly awkward moment.

“Hold on!” Simon ordered, holding one hand in the air in front of him, signaling Merle to be quiet as he co*cked an ear towards the television. He could hear something faint in the crowd.

Negan’s stomach clenched uncomfortably at the scene which was unfolding. His girl had confided to him, during their conversation the night before, she was nervous about whether people would be angry she was attending the affair when Yuri had only recently passed away, and how she hoped it wasn’t too soon, in the public’s opinion, for her to attend a celebration of the ceremony’s magnitude. She personally would have preferred to wait a few more months to attend such a high profile function, but she wanted to support her friend. She felt she needed to be there for him, for a change. Negan had been able to see her point, and he’d tried to convince her she would be fine, and would have a nice time. He had been so busy being pissed at the idea she was she was going out with another man he hadn’t thought about what would happen if things didn’t go well. f*ck! As he watched what was unfolding, his emotions surged, running the gamut from being embarrassed for her, to feeling downright f*cking heartsick for her, to anger over the f*ckers judging her, to wanting to f*cking pummel Misha for not knowing better and putting her in the situation. He looked at Simon incredulously, confused by his buddy’s edict to quiet.

_________

“Listen, Gigi … What do you hear?” Misha questioned her softly. “Look at me. Focus, and tell me what you hear,” he repeated when she didn’t respond immediately. Ever aware of the eyes watching for signs of imperfection, she smiled, turning to look at him and nodding as if she was agreeing with something he was saying. “Are you listening?” Misha implored. He needed her to pull herself out of her head and hear what was happening around her. “Listen..”

Gigi concentrated on the sound of his voice, the feel of his hand in hers, and the rhythm of her breathing to be sure her upset would not show. She let the noise of her surroundings seep back into the forefront of her mind, and finally heard what Misha was trying to point out. The sound became louder and louder, eventually drowning out her panicked thoughts. She raised her hand to her mouth, trying to physically hold in the strangled sob which escaped her lips.

_________

What was making him sick was the fact he couldn’t f*cking save her. Negan watched as Mikhail pressed himself into her side to physically support her while he calmly talked into her ear. Gigi seemed as if she were engrossed in what he was saying, smiling in response to whatever the f*ck he was telling her. Their actions looked perfectly natural, and relaxed, but the coach knew better.

She finally turned to look at her friend, and the reason for Simon’s order became clear to Negan at the same time it did for Gigi. He heard the rhythmic clapping in the crowd as it grew in tempo and volume. A crescendo was building as the crowd showed their love, support and empathy for their recently widowed idol, finally losing its rhythm and erupting in deafening cheers and applause. His tiny dancer simultaneously cried and laughed, in both sadness and relief, her chest heaving as tears streamed down her face. Negan’s relief was intense, and he chuckled when he heard a “Whew!” and “It’s a damn good thing!” from two of the other men in the room.

“Bunch of f*cking puss*es!” he chided his buddies dramatically, wondering if they had seen his own relief wash over him.

___________

After pulling herself together, with the help of her date and his handkerchief, Gigi and Mikhail finally made their way towards Kelly and Derek for a short interview about the evening to come. Stopping at a specially constructed Kennedy Center Honors stamped backdrop, the paparazzi went into overdrive, yelling to the pair, hoping to turn their heads so they could get the perfect shot.

“Who are you wearing, Gigi?” a young man called out to the ballerina.

“Prada!” she responded, turning gracefully so the back of her richly colored plum dress could be viewed as well. Weight resting on her back foot, the other slightly forward with toe subtly pointed outward, she turned her head to look over her shoulder at the cameras, obviously practiced at showing off the clothing she was wearing in the most flattering way.

___________

Negan didn’t give a f*ck who designed her dress. He was too busy stewing over the color of the dress. He distinctly remembered Gigi and Misha’s phone conversation, when the asshat had complained about her choice of a black dress for the event. Did she buy another dress because the asshole likes purple? Or did the f*cking dicktweaker buy her a new f*cking dress? Despite his aggravation over Mikhail’s involvement, he had to admit the floor length dress was perfection on his girl. It looked as if it was made for her, body hugging and sleek. It was elegant, yet sexy. The design was sleeveless, a deep vee of see through netting running down the middle of her torso, to her just above her navel, giving the world a tasteful peek at the inside edge of his favorite tinies. My teeny f*cking tinies.

A slit, centered in the middle of her uninjured leg stopped at just the right spot in the middle of her thigh to ensure it was provocative, not tacky. MINE. When she moved, only those who were scrutinizing every f*cking detail of the dancer would notice a glimpse of a flesh colored Ace bandage firmly supporting her injured knee, reminding them why they hadn’t seen Gigi Sokolov dance for a few years. The wrap was a barely noticeable blemish on legs which were utter f*cking perfection. The fabric of her gown was clingy, showcasing her well defined, delicious thighs and glutes, while its long slit highlighted her muscular shins and calves. Mmmmmmm. All fantastically, f*cking mine.

___________

Mikhail was interviewed for a few minutes by Kelly and Derek, before Gigi, who had been waiting and listening in the background, was invited in front of the camera so the hosts could question the pair together.

“I’m so proud of him,” the ballerina responded to one of the scripted questions. “No one deserves this honor more than Misha! His contribution to the art of dance in the United States is unmatched!”

“The two of you two are very close friends, yes?” Kelly queried.

“Very close,” Gigi confirmed, lifting her hand which was entwined with Mikhail’s, and pressed it to her shoulder as she continued to speak. “This man is my mentor, my best friend and my family.”

“Wow!” Derek chimed in, and shifting his mic in front of Misha he declared, “That is quite the list. She obviously thinks quite highly of you. I would ask if the feeling is mutual, but I know you were the teacher, Mikhail, so mentor wouldn’t be something you could add to your list of accolades for Gigi.”

“That's where you're wrong,” the dancer contradicted as he gazed at his date, affectionately. “She has taught me more than I would ever be able to teach her.” Pulling their hands to his lips, he kissed the the back of her hand affectionately.

Several groans and sarcastic “Awww’s” rose from the small crowd at Negan’s gathering along with the sound of Merle, dramatically gagging at the sentiment. “He’s so full a bullsh*t.”

“The phrase girly-man more comes to mind,” Simon quipped. “Who actually says stuff like that?”

Negan didn’t say a word. He was taking it all in. The hand holding. The shoulders pressed together. Misha’s hand pressed to her lower back when the camera panned out for a head to toe shot.

“Now, Gigi,” Kelly started dramatically, reaching out to squeeze her subject’s hand. Avoiding the elephant in the room, she tactfully focused on the dancer’s hiatus. “High heels, huh? Does that mean your knee is better? I thought I read you needed surgery.”

Negan’s girl laughed and shifted to move her wrapped knee forward, pushing the material of her dress aside so the bandage could be seen. “Sexy, isn’t it? What a girl will do to be able to wear the best pair of heels to accessorize an outfit!” she joked, shaking her head and letting the dress fall back into place. “Unfortunately, I still need surgery, but I’ve been talking with my doctor, and we’re trying to narrow down the best date for the procedure.”

“So we could see Gigi Sokolov dancing again, someday?!”

Gigi smiled broadly, studying the woman for a beat before she responded, “Someday is my favorite thing to think about right now, Kelly.” Gigi nodded as if she were confirming the woman’s assumption. Then speaking to the man sitting in his family room in Alexandria with his friends, she continued, “Everyone should have an exciting someday to yearn for and to dream about. Just the idea of my someday takes my breath away.”

My amazing, honest, mushy, sappy as f*ck, good girl.

Chapter 24: I Know. I've Always Known

Chapter Text

7:53 PM

My good f*cking

girl. Just perfect.

7:54 PM

Those legs.

Need to lick

them.

7:57 PM

I’ll take your

f*cking breath

away, Gigi.

Negan knew she wouldn’t see the messages right away, possibly for hours. He was compelled to send them anyway so she would know he had reached out to her in response to what had happened on the red carpet, because she had attached some silky ass ribbon to the ring she’d used to pierce his f*cking nose when he had been under the spell of her magic puss* at some point, and she had tugged on it with the girly-ass romantic message she’d spoken just for him, on live television for the whole f*cking world to see. She yearned for him and dreamed about him and he f*cking took her breath away, was what she had said. He had liked her confession more than a little bit, and he was absolutely f*cking sure it was due to his new nose ring, goddamn it. Negan, you f*cking cooze whipped bitch.

She f*cking yearns for me. But yet there he was, the red-headed stepchild, tucked away at home while she had her date with the rich, puss*fied, prince of prance, because the world knew Gigi and Prancer were the best of f*cking friends so it would be okay to be seen in public with him. Even though her reasoning had made sense and even though he wanted to attend the function about as much as he wanted to have all his teeth pulled without anesthesia, it still pissed him the f*ck off.

“How much you think he’s worth?” Negan contemplated out loud, while he and his cohorts ignored Liza Minelli singing Misha’s praises in a long ass speech about the man’s accomplishments.

“Forty-five million dollars,” Simon informed him a few seconds later, looking at his friend over the top edge of the reading glasses he had swiped from the end table next to him, so he could look up the information on his phone.

“Holy sh*t!” Merle looked at Negan in surprise, then back to Simon, questioning, “What about Gigi?”

“You mean you can just look that kinda personal crap up on the internet?” the football coach queried, amazed at the idea information so personal was online for the whole world to see.

“You betcha! You wanna know how big your dick is?” Simon quipped, posed as if he was ready to start typing the question into his phone the minute the football coach affirmed his need to know, causing even the usually unflappable Daryl to laugh.

“You and I both know how big my dick is, buddy, and it isn’t because you looked it up on the internet,” Negan shot back it him suggestively.

“Youch!”

“Try looking up Oprah’s net worth sometime. It’ll make you feel like you just had your balls snipped off. Totally emasculating,” Abraham pitched in.

“Gigi’s worth thirty-three million,” Simon read off his screen, shocked at what he was seeing. “Wait, wait wait …” He scrolled down the screen. That’s just her net worth. Holy hell! This was written before her hubby died. He was worth twenty-nine. Somebody do the math for me!”

“Them eyebrows a yers are just about hittin’ your hair line there, amigo, which is sayin’ a lot considerin’ yer hairline is so far back on yer head,” Merle taunted the track coach.

“I find the hairline crack amusing, coming from you, my follicle challenged friend,” Simon came back at him before he questioned, “Is anyone else a little stunned she’s worth that much money? What the hell is she doing teaching at Mount Vernon?”

“Hairline crack!” Abe chuckled at the unintended pun, pulling the last piece of pizza out of his box. “Good one.”

“It’s all about Hannah and Marshall,” the groundskeeper filled the other men in. “She doesn’t need ta work, but she wants ta give the kids a sense of stability, and she wants ta keep 'em grounded. S’why she moved here to take care of 'em instead of movin’ ‘em to New York. There’s nothin’ normal 'bout life where she lived in Manhattan. She’s teachin’ at Mount Vernon ‘cause she likes workin’ with kids, and ‘cause her two’ll both be goin’ there this year. She’ll be able to keep an eye on what they’re up to. Make sure they’re okay, what with all the sh*t they’ve been through.”

Negan rolled his eyes at his buddy, amused as always at the level of girl talk he and Gigi must share for him to know the details he did about her.

Sixty-two f*cking million. Jesus. I wonder what the hell that kind of money feels like. I’d just like to have sixty-two thousand in my savings account. Since he and Lucille had decided to spend most of her inheritance from her father on the house, and they had spent a load on updating the place after they’d moved in, there had only been a fraction of her dad’s money left when they were finished with the project. They had justified themselves with the knowledge they had no mortgage on the house, which would leave them quite a bit of money to sock away each month. They’d had two years to save before Lucille had gotten to the point where she couldn’t work anymore. After his wife had passed away, Negan had spent quite a few sleepless nights wondering what amount of money would allow him to retire comfortably. He’d always envisioned tooling around in a nice sized sail boat after they retired. Now he wasn’t at all sure what his retirement would look like. She’s worth sixty-two f*cking million. Why does my dick suddenly feel three f*cking sizes too small? f*ck.

___________

Gigi sat next to Misha, who occupied the front row, center seat of the balcony, the spot always reserved for the honoree of the evening. They laughed at the jokes made during their friend’s and colleagues’ speeches, heartily applauded the dancers who paid homage to the Russian’s own past performances, and they both shed a few tears when Marianela Núñez and Thiago Soares paid tribute to Mikhail’s choreography by performing the finale from the first ballet in which Gigi and Yuri had partnered.

Negan wouldn’t have paid a bit of f*cking attention to the tribute, having bullsh*tted with his buddies during most of the dance sequences, but the dancers on the stage caught his eye when he recognized their costumes from the poster on the wall in Gigi’s office. The ballerina’s purple satin toe shoes were replicas of the pair he’d seen on his girl’s feet the night she danced on the dock. He had also seen a few bits and pieces of the ballet when he was searching for information on his ballerina on YouTube. Purple. What’s with the f*cking purple?

The director had framed the action on the stage full screen, but a forty-five degree angled view of Gigi and Misha watching the performance was inset in the upper right-hand corner of the shot, so the audience at home could see their responses.

The football coach was entranced by his girl’s delight. While Mikhail's only movement was that of his head nodding in appreciation here and there, Gigi could not sit still. The moment the number started she moved to the edge of her seat. She remained there for the entire performance, as if she was being physically drawn into the scene below, her hands gracefully resting on the railing in front of her. It wasn’t long, however, before her fingertips began lifting off the rail, wiggling and waving in sync with the nuances of the music. Within one minute her hands left the railing, and were subtly dancing in the air as if the music were so ingrained in her she was physically compelled to move. When she wasn’t hand dancing, she was reaching over to pat Misha on the arm or chest blindly when she was particularly excited or moved by something happening on the stage. Negan chuckled to himself, at one point, when during the exact lift caught in the poster on her office wall, her eyes flew wide open in surprise, as if she had never seen anything like it before, then she turned to share her glee with Misha, who chuckled at her as well. Prick.

When the music slowed, Gigi’s mood became more serious, and the lovers onstage danced toward their dramatic conclusion. His girl finally stilled, one hand reaching over to clasp Misha’s. The other hand moved over her heart, resting on the fabric of her gown. The asshole put the back of her hand to his f*cking lips for the umpteenth f*cking time in the evening and kissed it, he and Gigi both obviously emotional over the final moments of the scene. Negan wondered if they were remembering Yuri and times gone by, or whether they were simply moved by the performance.

The second the music ended the crowd rose for a standing ovation lead by Gigi Sokolov herself, who had jumped to her feet the moment it was appropriate to do so. When Marianela and Thiago took their final bows they each raised one arm, grandly gesturing toward the choreographer and the original lead ballerina in the balcony. Once again his girl’s f*cking waterworks started to flow, and she blew the pair a kiss with the fingertips of both hands. Jesus, does she cry about everything?

“I’m a crier, Negan,” she had informed him during their - since the sex is good, I guess I better get to know you better - phone conversation the night before. “The feels just sneak up on me.” He had no f*cking idea why her emotionality didn’t get on his last f*cking nerve. He normally had no patience for drama and tears. He was willing to cut her some slack though, since her husband had just died, and being a woman, well, women were prone to melodrama thanks to all their f*cking estrogen going haywire at random f*cking moments.

For some unknown f*cking reason, he had been okay with her waterworks, so far. I can feel the tweak of the f*cking ribbon now. Perhaps it was because she wasn’t only emotion and drama. Gigi was an intelligent woman, shrewd, talented, and a physical badass; a powerhouse, as her husband had referred to her. If she didn’t have her softer side, she would have too many f*cking hard edges and sharp corners which would make it hard to cozy up to her. She would simply be a ball buster, which no self-respecting man wanted. In the same way her gracefulness complimented her muscular, toned body, her mushy, sentimental side rounded out her intellectually sharp edges, making it easier for big, bad Negan to cozy up to her without getting his nuts crushed.

Jesus Christ, I am so f*cking f*cked. It was as if the same purple satin ribbon threaded through his nose ring was also tied around his nut sack, and she was plucking the line on the regular to keep them within arm’s reach, reminding him they now belonged to her. Maybe he was okay with getting his nuts jerked by her, because it came with the promise of her letting him slide inside her mystical f*cking snatch to remind him exactly why he didn’t mind being tethered to her.

He also didn’t mind being roped to her because she had a f*cking way of making him feel worthwhile with a look. Those looks and her honesty let him know he mattered very much to her. And f*ck if he didn’t want to matter to her, in a huge f*cking way. f*cked in the biggest, freaking f*cking way.

_________

It was after two thirty in the morning when their limo pulled into Gigi’s driveway. Misha hopped out of the car, rounding it to get to her door, waving off the driver. A few drinks under his belt, he was completely energized by the events of the evening, despite the hour, while his date had fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder five minutes after the car had started to move. Many of his friends and colleagues were headed to the bar at the hotel the event planners had chosen for the celebrities' to stay for the weekend. The rooftop lounge was staying open to accommodate their VIP guests' late-night gathering.

Gigi had been tired, her feet and knee all throbbing after her long day and hours and hours standing on three inch heels. She had insisted Misha go straight to the bar, and she would make her way home without him, but he wouldn’t hear of it, insisting by the time everyone stopped in their rooms to freshen up and then made it up to the bar, he would be back from dropping her off.

When she began hobbling towards the front door, and then stopped at the back of the car to unbuckle her shoes to remove them, Mikhail took matters into his own hands, throwing Gigi over his shoulder to carry her inside. She laughed all the way into the house, giddy with fatigue. Luckily the kids had stayed the night at her parent’s house, so the foursome could watch her and Misha on television. Otherwise they would have been awakened by the ruckus.

Depositing her on her bed, her friend stood over her, and putting the bottom of one foot on his chest, he unbuckled her shoe and pulled it off, letting the accessory drop to the floor next to him. He returned her foot to his chest, then lifting the other foot, did the same.

The ballerina marveled at his kindness when he didn’t rush to say goodbye and leave for the after party she knew he was excited to attend, but began massaging her feet, one at a time. She groaned when it felt good, and hissed when he squeezed and rubbed the most painful spots, giving them a good once over before he pulled them gently from his chest, kissed her toes and then lowered them to the bed.

It perturbed Misha when he felt her body tense slightly, even as she let out a hum of satisfaction at his gesture. He took a minute to poke and prod the side of her knee, before he asked told her to stay put, and made his way to the kitchen to put ice in a plastic Ziploc bag for her to put on her inflamed injury.

When he returned, she was already laying with her head on her pillow, a large throw pillow under her knee where she knew he would direct her to place it. Sitting down next to her, he lifted her leg and placed the bag of ice under it. “Half an hour, Gigi,” he ordered, since he wouldn’t be there to be sure she iced it adequately. Her eyes were already half closed, sleep calling her, quite relaxed after his impromptu physical therapy session. She nodded her head in compliance, eyes drifting shut as he massaged and manipulated her knee joint.

Misha studied her peaceful expression for a moment, and then deciding it would be a fun time to drop a bomb on her, he inquired, “So did you ever plan on telling me your injury isn’t as life altering as you made it out to be?” Her body jumped and her eyes flew open when he startled her with his spot on diagnosis. He laughed outright at her response, though his pleasure was malicious, not joyful. He could see her breathing pick up, upset in her expression as she stared up at him, speechless. He waved his hand at her, impatiently waving off her shock over his query. “Don’t start the drama Gigi Ray. Tell me the truth.”

He must be really mad at her if he was using her first and middle names, Gigi realized. He only did so when he was taking her to task about her dancing, or when he was angry with her. “How did you know? Why didn’t you tell me? When …”

Once again he waved his hand to stop her. “Stop it!” he cut her off, the volume of his voice rising. His aggravation and disappointment was clear in his tone. “Don’t you dare make this about me, Gigi!” Getting up from the bed, he walked away from her, standing in the far corner of her room, arms crossed over his chest and shoulders back as he waited for her answer.” When she remained silent, he chuckled menacingly before he accused her with a shake of his head, “You always get your way, don’t you?” before he answered her query. “Doctor Lee let it slip at Yuri’s wake. He assumed, incorrectly of course…” the sarcasm was thick in Misha’s tone as he continued, “…you and I were so close you would have told me the truth. I felt like an idiot, Gigi!” He took a moment to calm himself before he added, “This is the first time you and I have spent together since I found out. I was hoping you would tell me this weekend. I don’t know why, since you’ve kept the truth from me for two years.”

“Misha, I …” Gigi sat up on the bed, and slid her knee off the bag of ice. She rushed to him, standing so he was cornered between her and the walls on either side of him, needing him to feel her in his space. Her worst fear had come true. She had been so afraid he would be livid with her if he found out she had been lying to him, and it had fueled her desire to keep the secret to herself, each minute and month which passed making it harder for her to reveal the truth. “I am so truly sorry, Misha. You know I am.” she murmured, trying to find the right words to convey her regret. She huffed out an exasperated sigh, finally starting, “I couldn’t dance with Yuri anymore. He was so hateful to me. You, of all people know how he was treating me. When Doctor Lee offered me an out, it was like he gave me the key to the cold, dank, basem*nt prison cell I’d been living in. A key which would let me see the sunshine again. I hadn’t seen the sun in soooo long …” She could see Misha’s stiff posture relax slightly as she reminded him of the change in Yuri. “It was killing my spirit to dance with him day after day, all of the stress of his nasty remarks, the devastation of knowing I would probably never get the chance to enjoy dancing with my husband again … that we might never be able to dance the way we had before … the way that made me joyful and proud, the way that made me fall in love with him all those years ago.”

The way I ached to dance with you, malyshka.

Gigi placed her hand on Mikhail’s chest, needing to physically connect with him to help her force the next words out her mouth. “Even as bad as things had become with our marriage, I knew I couldn’t just stop dancing with him. I knew what it could mean for both of our careers if we stopped dancing together due to our discord,” she lamented. “I knew you would be okay, Misha. You had your own larger than life career, outside of choreographing for the Sokolovs. But I didn’t want you caught in the middle, in the public’s eye.

“So I made sure I was the only one who lost their career,” she admitted. “At the time Yuri could dance lead with any other ballerina. I was the only one who was going to lose if my knee was irreparably injured.”

What she was revealing had not occurred to Misha. He had been blinded by his anger over the fact she had lied to him, thinking only of how she had betrayed their friendship. What she was telling him was her truth. She was telling him how her heart had made the decision for her, and it had chosen the path she thought would best for him and Yuri. She had lied to the world and to him, so she could back out of being her husband’s partner without ruining Yuri’s career, or negatively impacting his own with a scandal.

He turned his head, staring at the wall next to him, unable to look her in the eye any longer because he was ashamed he hadn’t considered her sacrifice. She had been willing to give up everything for them, and she would have been the only loser if Yuri’s aneurysm hadn’t stopped him from dancing. If her husband’s health hadn’t unexpectedly declined, Gigi would have sat on the sidelines cheering both of her men on, while her heart broke from sacrificing her joy. Her dancing. And Misha knew she would have done it without any regret or resentment, because she loved them. He didn’t know why, but her altruism aggravated him further.

His malyshka’s impassioned apology broke through his thoughts. “I’m sorry you lost so much money when La Vida closed early. I knew it would probably happen. The thought turns my stomach every time I think about it, Mish. I need you to know I didn’t take your loss lightly.”

His spine stiffened again, and he co*cked his head at her as he challenged, “You think the money was what mattered the most to me?” His tone was patronizing, suggesting she was being ridiculous. “You know better, malyshka. Why am I so upset with you right now? Tell me.”

She answered him without pause because her answer was the precise reason she had been afraid to be honest with him. “You’re angry because I lied to you. You knew the truth even before Doctor Lee told you, because you know me, Misha, and you’re disappointed I never told you, myself.”

She turned to walk a few steps away from him, too embarrassed to meet his harsh gaze. She stood with her back to him for a half minute fiddling with one of her earrings before she dropped her hand to her side and murmured. “The idea of telling you was just one more stress, on top of all the other stress in my life, Misha, and I couldn’t make myself do it, even though it was eating at me constantly. I guess I was being selfish. I wasn’t thinking about how my lying might make you feel, because it was all about me trying to maintain some small level of comfort in the heaven turned hell which was my life at the time.” He could see something akin to defeat wash over her physically, her shoulders slumping and her head dropping slightly forward.

She had said she was sorry, and she had admitted she was wrong. It was exactly what he had wanted from her. It had been the whole point of pushing her. He had wanted her to feel bad about lying to him. For once he wanted her to be the one to feel bad about everything; he wanted her to feel bad about falling in love with Yuri instead of him all those years ago, and about ruining everything he’d assumed would come to fruition after her husband had passed away, ruining everything by falling for the jerk next door.

For a man who had spent so many years living to make the woman in front of him happy, he was shocked at himself over how much he wanted her to hurt. His need to see her pain had not diminished, even after she had admitted she’d given up her career for him.

The ferocity of his own maliciousness towards his malyshka startled him back to reality, and Misha moved to her, turning her to face him. Tucking a few tendrils of hair which had escaped from her ponytail behind her ear, he concentrated on his task as he tried to avoid her big, sad eyes pleading with him for forgiveness. He suddenly felt very guilty about his behavior, and he pulled her to him. Wrapping one hand around the back of her neck he moved to close the gap between them. His brow pressed to hers, the side of his nose touching hers, he allowed his lips to rest at the corner of hers. His anger dissipated the second he physically connected with her. He breathed her in, knowing she would pull away if she didn’t want the affection. He enjoyed the warmth of her, the scent of her, and feeling of her relaxing against him before he finally murmured against the edge of her lips, “I need to go. I think it’ll be best if I stay at the hotel tonight.”

Gigi was transported back in time, back to the moment in the ABT studio on a wintery night when she’d had to decide whether or not to kiss him. Just as it had then, her heart pounded at a furious pace, and a fire ignited inside her from the feeling of being in his arms, the arms of the beautiful man she had been in love with for so long, but had finally lost. The man she needed to let go.

Her heart was tearing in two, because Misha’s need to go wasn’t only about cutting his visit short by a day. He needed to distance himself from her, and let go of the unhealthy part of their relationship, for good. It was time for him to stop waiting for her, and living in a world of “if only” and “maybe, one day”. Gigi wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t beg him to stay. She wouldn’t tell him she couldn’t live without him, even if she desperately wanted to, because living without her was what he needed to do to move on with his life without the burden of his feelings for her.

She wouldn’t drown in him in drama. She would kiss him goodbye. She would kiss him the way she had wanted to, on that wintery night two years ago. If it had happened then, it would have been the start of something they couldn’t finish. Tonight their kiss would be the end of a question which had gone so long unanswered, and would be the final moment of the friendship which had sustained her for many, many years because “I need to go” wasn’t only about Misha leaving for his party. He was leaving her and going back to New York because he needed space.

Turning her head, she pressed her lips softly to his, and she felt his breath catch with emotion. It was only seconds before he took over, his lips grazing hers confidently. A series of slow, tender kisses peppered her lips. They both smiled, before things became more heated and desperate, their fingers clutching each other when they weren’t skimming over lips and cheekbones and brows, never straying beyond self-imposed, appropriate boundaries. Lips finally parted, and their tongues danced intimately as they showed each other the depth of their feelings for one another, because everything needed to be said right now. It was the first, but also the last chance they would get to express themselves.

Their moment ended as it had started, their foreheads pressed together, noses touching, sharing their panting breaths as Misha said his final goodbye. “My malyshka.” And then, “I’m going to go.”

The question was out of her mouth before she could think about how she should phrase it, or whether she even wanted to hear the answer. “Forever?”

Misha was the one with tears in his eyes as he pulled away, walking away from her as if he needed the distance to help maintain his resolve. “For awhile,” he answered uncertainly, walking to the door to head to the guest room to pack. “I need time, Gigi.”

“I love you.” She had to say it. She needed him to know, even if she did sound a little desperate. Baring her soul to him was nothing new or monumental.

Turning back to her he smiled before giving her their pat response, “I know, Gigi.” Then he added, “I’ve always known.” Because just as he had known she was lying to him about her knee, he had always known she had loved him as deeply as he loved her.

_________

Who the f*ck does that f*cking f*cker think he f*cking is? Mine. MINE! My f*cking girl, not his. MY f*ckING GIRL! f*cking dick sucking, f*ckingly f*ckful, son of a whor*, f*cking f*cker!

And Gigi. What the f*ck, Gigi? Does ‘yours’ mean f*cking nothing to you? Negan turned and walked down the steps of her deck, back towards his own house, angry at what he’d just witnessed.

He had gotten out of bed a little after two thirty, his mouth feeling like it was filled with cotton after five beers and the cup of f*cking garlic sauce he had dipped his cheesy bread into. The headlights of a car pulling into the driveway next door had illuminated his entry way as he had walked by. His party girl had had quite the late night.

Grabbing a large glass of ice water, he’d walked to the front door, looking through the glass and surveying the scene outside. Gigi had been leaning against the trunk of the limo, trying to unbuckle her shoe in the dark. What the f*ck? Before he’d had the time to question why she was taking her shoes off in the driveway, Misha had thrown her over his shoulder and carried up the walkway, where the coach was no longer able to see them. He’d had more than enough of his girl’s bestie and their close-knit relationship. Thankfully the asshole was leaving the next morning. Good f*cking riddance.

As he’d walked back into the bedroom, his phone had gone off, with notification of a text from Gigi.

2:42 AM Gigi

You awake?

2:42 AM

Yep

2:43 AM Gigi

Wanna have a pj

party tonight?

With sleep

but maybe

no pj’s? ;)

The message translated had read, “I really want to cuddle up with you, but only if you don’t plan on getting laid. I’m too tired. In consolation, I’ll let you feast your eyes on my bod, and feel me up a little.” He’d decided to f*cking take what he could get, because he would still be able to lick the lovely calves which had teased him on the tv screen, and maybe his tinies, too.

2:43 AM

Here or there?

The flouncing f*cker must have gone to bed. My good girl. Gigi had spent all night with Misha, but the minute she was free of him she’d tweaked the ribbon threaded through her Negan’s nose.

She hadn’t answered when he’d come back out of the bathroom after taking a leak, so he’d taken his phone with him to refill his ice water. Stopping to peek through one of the side lights on either side of the front door when he had realized the limo’s headlights were still shining through it, he’d spied the driver leaning against the side of the vehicle, playing on his phone. It was strange the guy hadn’t left.

He’d made his way into the kitchen and refilled his beverage. His stomach growling from hunger, he made his way to the fridge, deciding to make something quick to eat. He definitely could use it, and knowing Gigi ate like a f*cking bird, she was probably starving, even after the six-course meal she told him would be served at the gala. Because his sorry ass was whipped, he had bought the makings for Caesar salad with whole fat parmesan cheese, because his girl had informed him low fat usually meant there were more carbs added for texture, and the package of croutons from the grocery store which had the least net carbs per tablespoon. I should not even know how to f*cking calculate net carbs. He had left the food on the counter, deciding to run over and invite her over to his place. It would be easier than carrying the food over to her.

________

He stood outside her French doors watching as f*cky Mcf*ckerson gently pulled Gigi’s shoes from her feet and began to massage them. His girl lay there on her back, knees bent, her other foot remaining flat on the man’s chest as she moaned at his ministrations, smiling up at him with sleepy eyes. What in the ever loving f*ck?

Negan should have walked away. He wanted to walk away, but he couldn’t make himself do it. He needed to see how this little massage session was going to end. If it would end. Needed it is as surely as he needed to take his next f*cking breath. I should f*cking trust her. He knew Gigi well enough to know she felt Misha’s foot rub was simply a friendly gesture, and he trusted her naïve perspective was genuine. What he didn’t trust were her buddy’s intentions.

The longer he stood there, the more pissed he became, as some of Gigi’s moans and murmured accolades filtered through the closed glass doors. “So good, Mish!”, and “Mmmmm,” as her eyes drifted shut. Making the same f*cking noises, and saying the same f*cking things she says to me when I f*ck her. Goddamn it! The idea of her giving Misha the same validation she gave him made him angry. Mine! He was no longer pissed when he saw the gentle way dick sack placed a kiss on his girl’s toes. He was downright f*cking livid. He thought he saw Gigi’s body tense, but it was no f*cking consolation, since he also heard her unmistakable hum of appreciation.

f*ck you both! f*ck you and the gnarly ass f*cking toes you danced in on. If you know what’s good for you, Gigi, you’ll move your f*cking feet away from his f*cking lips. And you, you f*cking prick, they’re my f*cking toes to f*cking kiss … oh, f*ck. He paused in the middle of his cerebral rant, then backtracked. Maybe not. Maybe I just want to think they’re mine, but they’ve belonged to Prancer all along. Maybe that’s the real f*cking problem here. The possibility was disheartening. f*ck.

Negan finally turned to go, making his way down the steps from her deck, across the yard, and back through the sliding glass doors into his kitchen. He put the salad he’d made for her back in the fridge, as well as his own, along with the dressing and croutons he’d had yet to add. He wasn’t f*cking hungry anymore, and who knew whether she was even coming over. Or whether he f*cking wanted her to.

He didn’t know what the f*ck to think about what he had just seen, but he didn’t f*cking like it in the goddamn f*cking least. It struck him Misha’s visit to her room must have been what had interrupted her texts to him, which is why she hadn’t responded to his question about where she wanted to sleep. He wondered whether she would pick up where she had left off when the asshole left her room, or whether she would forget she had been mid text with him. Worse, maybe the f*cker would end up staying, because he had so much more to offer than a high school football coach could ever give her. He let out a growl of discontent, backhanding the glass of ice water on the counter with force and sending it flying into the tile back splash where it shattered, glass, bits of ice cube and liquid coating everything around it. f*ck.

Chapter 25: Speak When You're Spoken To

Chapter Text

Negan let out a growl of discontent, backhanding the glass of ice water on the counter with force and sending it flying into the tile back splash where it shattered, glass, bits of ice cube and liquid coating everything around it. f*ck.

While he wanted to leave the mess and head to bed, Lucille had trained her husband just as well as she had trained Merle, and he knew if the water spilled over the lip of the counter onto the hardwood floor and sat over night, it would damage it. Damn it, Lucille. Grabbing the dish towel off the oven door, he stopped the flow of water starting to cascade off the granite, and started pushing the fluid and pieces of ice cube and glass into the sink, where he could deal with them in the morning.

________

Gigi, what were you thinking, kissing him, when you are sleeping with Negan now? She paced her bedroom floor as she listened to the sounds of Misha opening and closing the dresser drawers in the guest room, and sliding the hangers across the rod in the closet as he removed his clothing and packed his things in his bag. He passed by her bedroom door on his way to the main bathroom to get his toiletries, not bothering to glance through her open door. She didn’t blame him. Not only did she not blame him, but she also could understand his need to take some time to put their relationship in perspective.

They had spent years relying on each other in an unhealthy way, because their primary relationships were lacking in fundamental things they had needed. She wasn’t stupid or blind. She had simply chosen to ignore Misha’s feelings for her, because it would complicate her life if she acknowledged it. Why would she have complicated things by being truthful with herself, when she’d had two wonderful men who gave her everything she ever needed? She had kept Mikhail close because she had wanted him all to herself, and he had been willing to jump at her beck and call because he was in love with her. She and her two husbands had been the poster children for codependency.

If she wanted to move forward in a healthy relationship with Negan, she needed to stop depending on Misha. The question in her mind was whether Negan could give her everything she needed, or whether he even wanted to do so. If not, she was letting a man who had always seemed so perfect for her walk away from her for no good reason. The thought was distressing for her. She listened to the sound of her friend, her love, opening the front door and closing it again, leaving without another word to her.

___________

If Negan wanted to be reasonable about the toe kissing bullsh*t, he would simply wait to talk to Gigi. He would let her know he had seen the f*cking kissing bandit in action, slobbering all the f*ck over her. He would then ask Gigi if she felt it was reasonable for another man to kiss any part of the body she had assured him, that very morning, belonged only to her someday. Fat lot of f*cking good being her someday did for him if everyone else on the face of the earth could claim her body parts with their lips whenever the f*ck they wanted. After thinking about it for several minutes, Negan decided he didn’t feel like being reasonable about the matter.

Sweeping the last of the mess into the sink, he used some paper towels to soak up the little bit water on the floor, making sure to force some of the paper down into the seams between the wooden slats with this fingernails as his wife had shown him, to be sure he soaked up all of it so it wouldn’t seep in and warp and buckle the wood. He shook his head at how he had been indoctrinated into the vagin* brigade by the sneaky f*cking strong women in his life, making sure the hardwood didn’t suffer while he brooded over how his new woman let any and every man on God’s f*cking green earth lay lips on her. f*cking whiner. Man the f*ck up. Handle it.

A new beverage in hand, he made his way back into his bedroom. Moonlight was shining through the sliding glass doors, allowing him to easily make his way to the nightstand in the dark room. Sliding the dimmer for the lamp on his side of the bed, he left it on the lowest setting, planning to turn it off again once he got settled. He sat his drink on the coaster on the table’s surface and was ready to hit the light switch and crawl under the covers when he heard a soft knock on the glass door. Negan unlocked the slider and opened it, half relieved but also sort of f*cking pissed Gigi was standing there. She was standing on his deck, his beautiful f*cking girl, a huge ass smile meant only for him lighting up her face. He gave her two f*cking points for the smile.

“Hey…” she greeted him as he stepped back to make room for her to walk over the threshold. She did so, immediately pressing herself to the front of him and nibbling the underside of his chin as she wrapped her arms around his back.

His anger may have melted a little f*cking bit at her show of affection. I’ll give her another f*cking point for not being able to keep her hands off me. She took two steps back from him, turning so he could see her in her fancy, deep purple gown, live and in person. “I left it on. I wanted to show you. I wish you could have been there with me!” her enthusiasm was infectious, but she also sounded slightly manic. He wondered what had happened to shift her out of the relaxed stated he’d seen her in during her foot massage to her current, high energy mode. “I just looove getting dressed up, Negan,” she prattled. “Was I okay on camera? Did you watch?” She was turning in front of him so he could see the front and back of her dress. He stared at her, silently admiring every f*cking inch of her from head to toe. Another two points for her f*cking beauty. She had put her shoes back on, he noticed, no doubt so he could see her entire outfit, and he was amused.

Negan simply studied her, not responding to her questions. Hands on his hips, he co*cked his head at her, his lower jaw pushing forward and then pulling back a few times. “You look absolutely stunning, Gigi” he finally responded, but he knew he sounded distracted. Pulling himself out of his head he added with conviction, “And my tinies looked phenomenal on camera.” Reaching out to her, he traced the edge of the netting which filled the deep vee in the middle of her dress, his finger running up over and back down one of her teeny mounds before it continued on its journey towards her navel. She laughed at the back handed compliment, her eyes lighting up at his praise, and she took the few steps in his direction, the discomfort in her feet obvious as she moved.

“Those are some high f*cking heels, doll,” he noted. “They must be killing you after all those hours on your feet. Here, let me help you,” he swept her into his arms, and turning to the bed he lay her on the edge before motioning for her to scoot up the mattress. “Move up a little.”

Gigi was thoroughly enjoying his attention, using her elbows to move herself as he had directed, gasping lightly when he suddenly pulled and then pushed her across the bedcovers to move her where he wanted her, loving how he took charge of her. She had moved halfway up the mattress, laying flat on her back, but he had pulled her rear end to the very edge of the bed, her knees bent and her feet flat on the covers. Without warning, he pushed her dress up to her thighs and suddenly pushed her knees apart with his fingertips before standing between them, the front of his thighs touching the edge of the bed. His effortless dominance sent a wave of arousal through her.

The look in his eyes also sent a thrill through her, his expression similar to the one he had worn when he had put her in her place in the hall at work. She remained quiet, waiting to see what he would do next. Placing the bottoms of both her shoes on his chest, he proceeded to unbuckle one of her sandals.

“Let’s get these uncomfortable things off you,” he cooed as he finished his work on her first shoe, dropping it on the floor next to him. Gently placing the flat of both feet on his chest, he lifted her other leg, holding her leg by the calf and repeating his process to remove her other shoe.

“Wow. What a déjà vu moment,” Gigi thought to herself as he let the second shoe fall to the floor. He smiled at her as he expertly kneaded his way from her calf down to the middle of her foot and then squeezed her toes, but she realized the look in his eyes didn’t match his smile. She studied him curiously.

“Your feet must really hurt, huh?” he questioned her softly as he rubbed her heel gently.

Gigi wondered why he seemed a little off as she nodded at him, starting to respond hesitantly, “They really do …”

Stopping his impromptu massage, Negan drew back one hand and smacked the bottom of her already painful foot with enough force to make it sting, causing her gasp loudly out of both shock and discomfort. “Ow! Negan, what…” She was cut off by another jolt of pain when he smacked the tender area again, the impact not meant to hurt her, but startle her.

“I guess Misha f*cking sucks at foot rubs, huh?” He laughed out loud at the look of surprise on her face at his inquiry. “Yes, Gigi,” he preempted her unasked question, his tone surprisingly calm as he informed her, “I saw your boyfriend laying hands all the f*ck over you, and I saw him practically sucking on your goddamn toes!” He stepped back from her, pushing her legs out of his space.

She flinched, letting her feet drop over the edge of the bed as he moved away from her. Her mind was working in overdrive, wondering what exactly he had seen, and how angry he was with her. His poker face was disconcerting, since he normally made it abundantly clear when he was angry. If he hadn’t just physically shown his discontent, she wouldn’t even know he was upset with her. “He’s not my boyfriend, Negan.” she declared firmly.

“Heh. Could’ve fooled me.” He swept his tongue between his teeth as he studied her.

Sitting up, she watched him pace the room as she wrung her hands in her lap, contemplating how she should start the discussion she needed to have with him. She hadn’t had the chance to tell him what she had learned about Misha’s feelings for her, or about the discussion she’d had with him on Friday night after her get together, because Negan had needed her comfort when they had finally come together. She had set her own soap opera aside to discuss with him at another time.

She also needed to tell him, if he didn’t already know, she had kissed Misha goodbye. In the moment it had seemed like it had been inevitable, and the right thing to do, but even as the wonderful moment had unfolded, guilt had seeped in, twisting the heartfelt act into something else completely. Twisting it into something which had felt wrong.

“He left me, Negan,” she started, hoping her honesty would make it easier for him to forgive her for her indiscretion.

“What do you mean, he left you? What the hell does that even mean Gigi?” he returned impatiently. Walking over to the sliding glass doors he stood with his back to her. “And is his leaving supposed to make me feel better about the fact you let him lay lips on you?” The volume of his voice was rising with each question he posed. “Do you let all your male friends kiss your feet, Gigi? Is that something you expect the men you’re sleeping with to accept unconditionally? Was Yuri okay with his best buddy putting his lips on you?” he finished, turning his head to her and squinting in his way, his jaw tensing and relaxing as he waited for her response.

His poker face was gone and he was raising his voice at her. Strangely, Gigi found herself relieved. She was relieved he cared enough to be angry. As crazy as it seemed, she wanted him to be angry. Oh my God, Gigi, you have lost your mind!

“No, Negan, I don’t expect you to accept it at all,” a revelation hit her, and she looked up at him, her eyes welling with tears. “I want you to hate it. I want the man I’m sleeping with to be so invested in me he can’t stand the thought of someone else being physically or emotionally close to me.” She suddenly burst into tears, upset at the realization Yuri had been okay with Misha standing in for him because he was too spoiled and lazy try to fulfill all of her needs.

What the f*ck? Here we go again with the f*cking tears. “What the hell, Gigi?” Negan had no f*cking idea what she was trying to convey to him, her words a contradiction to her actions with Misha. Why does everything have to be so f*cking complicated with this woman? “You need to start talking,” he demanded angrily, “because what I saw in your room isn’t matching up with what’s coming out of your mouth.”

“I know,” she conceded. His girl got up suddenly from the bed and walked into his master bath a few feet away. He heard the sound of her blowing her nose, and water running in the sink before she came back.

She had pulled herself together, and it was Negan’s powerhouse of a woman, not his submissive girl who approached him from behind. He could see the determination on her face as she looked into his eyes in his reflection in the glass in front of him. Whatever conversation she wanted to have with him, she wanted to have it as his equal. Wrapping her arms around his middle, she molded herself to his back, resting her cheek on his shoulder blade. While his first instinct was to pull away from her, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. puss*.

“I haven’t had the chance to talk to you about my discussions with Carol and Mikhail on Friday evening,” Gigi began, hiding behind him as she splayed her fingers on his abs. He was dressed only in a pair of gym shorts, his torso bare, and the intimate feel of his warm skin was comforting under her fingertips. “I’ve come to some unpleasant realizations about my marriage, and my relationship with Misha, and the impact of what I’ve discovered is huge.”

Negan found himself concerned. While he was angry about Prancer kissing his girl’s toes, her statement was foreboding, and he wondered if whatever the f*ck she’d discovered would impact what was going on between him and his girl. Taking a small amount of comfort in the fact she’d practically wrapped herself around him, he waited.

“The strained conversation you noticed between Carol and I on Friday?” she began. “And the conversation between Misha and I on the dock? I found out he’s been in love with me for years.”

Negan huffed out a skeptical laugh. “Really? You just figured that out, Gigi?” he goaded her. “Because I could see it, and Merle could see it, within two seconds of the two of you fawning all the f*ck over each other in the back yard!”

He had raised his voice again, and Gigi shook her head, unable to see how their conversation would move forward if he was going to challenge everything she told him, out of anger. She moved around to stand in front of him.

“Negan, I need to ask you a huge favor right now,” she appealed to him. “And I know it’s a lot to ask.” She toyed with his chest hair for a moment before looking up at him, her eyes pleading for his understanding. “Can I talk to you as my partner, and not the man who’s very angry with me right now? I know we need to talk about what you saw, but I’ve been hit with so much in the last forty-eight hours, and I feel so alone, right now. I need someone to help me wade through the mess.”

Her plea caught him off guard. She was asking him to be there for her, when he was pissed as all f*cking get out at her. Interesting f*cking concept. He broke eye contact, glancing around his room as he mulled over her request, wondering if he could calm his ass down enough to listen to her, let alone be helpful to her.

“I’m asking too much,” she announced suddenly, patting his chest as she pulled away from him. “Forget I asked. I’ll just give Carol a ring. I’m sure I can run over to her place to talk things through with her,” she offered earnestly, so used to turning to a friend when she needed support. Before and after Ed had road blocked their friendship, she and Carol had always offered to be there for each other, no matter the hour, and they’d had more than one conversation at three in the morning. “Once I get things straight in my own head, I can come back and we’ll talk. It will be easier for me to explain things to you if …”

“No you won’t go over to Carol’s at three in the damn morning, Gigi, you’ll sit your ass down and talk to me,” Negan informed her in a no nonsense tone. “And I’ll listen, and try to be supportive, even though I’m seriously f*cking pissed right now.” The corners of his girl’s mouth curled up into a smile, and she looked pleased as f*cking punch at his offer. “Don’t get all f*cking smiley on me, Gigi!” he warned her. “I’m really pissed!”

The ballerina made a concerted effort to wipe the smile off her face, and sat down on the edge of the bed again, even though she wanted to rush him and kiss the frown right off his face.

“You hungry?” he asked her testily, his own stomach rumbling loudly.

“I’m starving!” she admitted, his question making her aware of how long it had been since she’d eaten.

“Come on,” he motioned with two fingers for her to follow him, as he moved towards the bedroom door. When they reached the kitchen he pointed at the dining table for her to sit down. “Start talking.”

Gigi started at the beginning, trying to be concise, filling him in on her conversations with Carol and Misha while he sliced leftover steak and tossed Ceasar salad for them. He plated his low carb creation and slid one in front of her before sitting down across from her with his own. She told him about Misha’s feelings for her, and the realization her husband had let his best friend get too close to her because it had been easier than putting more effort into their relationship.

“That’s f*cked up, Gigi. There is no f*cking way in hell I’d have let Lucille cozy up to someone else, just to save myself from having to listen to her problems.”

“So you don’t think it’s unreasonable for me to be upset with him for being complacent? I feel a little guilty about being angry with him. ”

“No f*cking way,” he reassured her.

“And I know I’m not faultless in this.”

“No, you’re not.”

________

“We were like a threesome, but the sex was exclusively with Yuri. Misha was my sounding board, my business advisor, my relationship counselor, and he was supportive in a way Yuri wasn’t capable of. How crazy is it that I couldn’t even see our dynamic wasn’t normal?”

“You were pretty f*cking naive, Gigi,” Negan acknowledged.

“I see that now! I just figured every girl had a best friend to share their secrets and troubles with. My best friend just happened to be a man who knew me as well as my husband did. He may have even known me better,” she admitted.

Negan looked at her thoughtfully, before insisting, “I’m telling you right now, I don’t want you f*cking sharing your secrets and troubles with any man but me.” He was spearing some lettuce and a piece of steak on his plate as he said it, and without looking up he added, “You’re f*cking smiling at me again, Gigi. I can tell without even looking at you. Cut it out!”

“I can’t help it. You make me happy.”

“You’re gonna f*cking go there right now, really?”

_________

“So since he didn’t get his f*cking way, he ditched you as a friend? That’s just a dick move.” Negan had calmed down, the longer they talked, and he tried to offer his support in his own colorful way.

“I don’t know, Negan. As hurt as I am, I completely understand his motives. We’ve been so wrapped up in each other for so long … He’s angry with me. Like I said, I know I’m not blameless in all of this,” she admitted. “I took full advantage of his feelings for me to keep him close, because I needed him.”

“It’s still a dick move,” Negan murmured, making Gigi chuckle. She appreciated his defensiveness on her behalf.

She was quiet for a time, taking a drink of Negan’s water when he nudged his glass towards her, and then stealing a piece of beef from his plate since she’d already picked all of hers out of her salad. She smiled when he raked his own fork through his lettuce, picking out a few more pieces of meat for her and pushing them towards the edge of his plate closest to her, without admonishing her.

“Thanks!” Smiling, she picked up her utensil and skewered both of them, putting them in her mouth. They ate in silence while she examined her own need to step back from Misha. “One of the things I came to grips with tonight, was my need to learn to function without him. I think I need some perspective on things. And I think it will be better for you and I as well, Negan.” Gigi held eye contact with him as she formulated what she wanted to say. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable if you aren’t in a place to talk about what’s happening between us, but if I try to move forward in a new relationship while I’m still tied so heavily to Mish, I’ll be setting myself up to repeat the same mistakes I made before. I need to learn how to maneuver in a relationship with one man, instead of two.” She co*cked her head at him as she continued softly, “The question is whether you even want to get sucked into the dysfunctional mess that is Gigi Sokolov.”

Negan raised his eyebrows at her as he finished chewing his last bite of food. She was telling him she felt he was worth making some huge f*cking internal changes so she would be in a better place to move forward with him. He couldn’t help but appreciate the sentiment, thanks to his fashionable, purple, nutsa*ck tether. Knowing he needed to validate what she’d expressed, he cringed inwardly as he forced his thoughts out of his mouth, “Yeah, well, I need you to learn how to maneuver in a relationship without letting other men kiss your random body parts whenever the f*ck they please.” It was the best he could do. Hey, it got my f*cking point across. “There’s something you haven’t talked about Gigi,” he suddenly pondered aloud. Ahhh, f*ck! “And I gotta know,” he held her gaze while he made sure he had a good cerebral grip on his balls so he could continue. “Do you love him?” I f*cking asked. My balls are intact and functioning, despite the fact I’m royally f*cking whipped.

His girl stared at him for a few seconds too long, answering his question without speaking. “f*ck. I should have f*cking known.” Getting up from the table, he carried his plate to the sink, dropping it a little too roughly against the ceramic, the sound making them both flinch.

“I do, Negan,” she finally responded, before quickly explaining, “But it doesn’t matter now.”

“Why, Gigi? Do you think it doesn’t matter now that you’re with me?” he questioned her skeptically. “I think it matters. In a big f…” He stopped himself from cursing, because he was trying not to swear at her while he was angry. “… in a big way. How do you know you won’t spend your time with me, wondering if you made the right choice?” He stood with his fingers curled over the lip of the sink, staring out the window, thinking he wasn’t so sure he wanted to know all her secrets. Especially this f*cking secret. f*ck!

Knowing she wanted their physical bond to help make her point, Gigi once again moved to stand behind him. Wrapping her arms around him, she pressed her nose and lips to his bare back as she ran her fingertips up and down his stomach.

“Misha came to town this weekend expecting to start up the relationship we’d never been able to have while Yuri was alive,” she murmured against his skin. She could feel his tension, and it wasn’t melting, despite her caress. Please, please hear me and understand me, Negan. And be okay with this. “And I told him it wasn’t going to happen. It couldn’t happen now.”

Before she could explain further he interrupted her. “Why not?” he challenged her quietly. “If you love him, why wouldn’t you want to be with him, now that you finally have the chance?”

She heard the question her proud man was really asking her. He wasn’t asking her why she wasn’t running into Misha’s arms. Negan was asking her to tell him how she felt about him, even though it would probably make him uncomfortable. Opening himself up, even though she’d screwed up earlier with the “f*cking toe kissing bullsh*t” as he’d referred to it twice during their conversation.

Any fears Gigi had had about letting go of Misha for this man who may not be ready to commit to her flew out the window, because he was telling her, with his question, he was invested in her, and he needed her to be absolutely sure of what she wanted. He needed to hear her say it, even after it had been inferred, and even if it made him uncomfortable to hear the words.

“Because someone else has my heart now, Negan. Someone who I’m not only devoted to emotionally, but physically. And I really like where this new man is taking me. Assuming I haven’t screwed everything up with the f-ing toe kissing thing.” She smiled against his back, placing a kiss in the middle of his spine.

“Stop doing the f*cking smiley thing, Gigi. It’s not helping your case!” he deflected.

“Okay.”

I have her f*cking heart. Huh ... kinda helps balance out the nose ring and testicl* leash. And the f*cking toe kissing bullsh*t. No, it does not f*cking balance out the toe kissing bullsh*t.

_________

“What do you mean you fu…freaking kissed him goodbye? What do you mean you kissed him, Gigi?”

They were laying on his bed, Gigi still in her formal wear, sans shoes, and Negan stripped down to his boxer briefs because it was four in the f*cking morning and he just wanted to be f*cking comfortable. Thinking their discussion was over, he had been trying to relax. He’d calmed the f*ck down about Prancer laying lips on her when she had admitted the affection made her uncomfortable, but then she had murmured sleepily, “I have one more thing I need to tell you, Negan.”

It had become clear to Gigi, early on in their discussion, Negan had seen Misha’s foot massage, but he had not seen their kiss. Thank God. She had thought revealing how she truly felt about him would help her final confession go more smoothly. She had been kidding herself. Even she knew it was a big deal. But she had hoped he’d be in a better frame of mind to hear it. His tone was suggesting otherwise. She knew she deserved whatever he threw at her. “I mean exactly that, Negan,” she answered his query ruefully. “I kissed him.” Gigi knew she sounded absolutely pathetic when she tried to make it all better by blurting out, “The minute I did it, I knew I shouldn’t have. It felt like the right thing in the moment. Like we owed ourselves one kiss. One first and last kiss …”

“f*ck, Gigi! It wasn’t just a peck goodbye? You’re telling me you f*cking kissed him? Not just kissed him, but you kissed him, kissed him?” He didn’t need or want to hear her response. f*ck it all to hell!

Negan was yelling again, and she couldn't blame him. She felt so guilty and so sorry for having been so stupid and impulsive. Gigi lay on her side staring at him, knowing there was nothing she could say to make things better. She just hoped he could forgive her. “I’m so sorry, Negan. I don’t know what I was thinking. It was stupid of me. I was thoughtless and selfish. I know that doesn’t make it any better …”

“No, it doesn’t! So you not only let him slobber all the f*ck over your toes, but he kissed you? He pulled his gaze from the ceiling and turned his head to look at her incredulously. “You have got to be f*cking kidding me!” Suddenly self aware he declared, “Damn it! I’m sorry I’m f*cking swearing at you when I’m angry!” Despite his contradictory wording, he was sincere in his apology.

She was looking at him with her big, pathetic, sad f*cking eyes, which pissed him off even more. Reaching out with one hand, he palmed her face, slowly pushing it to turn her head and body away from him, getting great satisfaction out of the puerile act. There! She f*cking kissed the f*cker. What the f*ck?

He rolled away from her to the edge of the bed, laying with his back to her because he didn’t want her to read the confusion written all the f*ck over him, or see the self satisfied smirk forming on his lips when she finally rolled back over to look at him with her big f*cking sad, cheating eyes. For some crazy f*cking reason, despite the fact he was pissed as all f*cking get out, he found himself relieved she’d stepped over the line with the asshole. What in the fat f*cking hell is wrong with you, Negan? The dancing dickbag had laid his heart on the table for her, and they had f*cking kissed, yet she was laying in bed with her someday, confessing all of her sins to him, because she had chosen him, his good f*cking girl, and because she felt telling him was the right thing to do.

f*ck you Misha, you tutu loving, dancey prancey f*ck.

Merle had been right. Gigi wasn’t the type to f*ck around with two men at once, and the coach was appeased by her need to divulge her imprudent behavior. Confessing was something he hadn’t had the balls to do when he’d screwed around on Lucille, even though the guilt of his cheating had eaten at him. It had eaten at him, but it hadn’t been enough to make him stop cheating. Not until he’d known he had gotten caught. He knew he had no f*cking right to judge Gigi for her indiscretion, one measly f*cking kiss, when he was the king of the f*cking realm of the unfaithful. He’d screwed around on his wife repeatedly, and worse, he’d continued his affair with Rosita even after he had found out Lucille had cancer.

He had no right to judge Gigi, but he still was f*cking furious. On the other hand, he was flattered by the huge amount of faith she had placed in him, when they’d only been sleeping together for a short time. She’d already handed him her unconditional trust, physically, letting him call each and every f*cking new shot with her in the bedroom, and also handed him her f*cking heart by admitting her feelings for him, with absolutely no f*cking expectations he would return the sentiment. She had taken the chance at revealing her dedication to him, even though she thought he might rebuff her, because his emotionally stunted ass had lead her to believe he was uncomfortable with any show of verbal devotion. It was an absolute f*cking joke he had been uncomfortable with her expressing her feelings during their middle of the night f*ck fest. It was a joke because he not only expected her devotion after less than two weeks of f*cking around with her, he needed it. f*cking f*cked all the f*ck up.

He continued to lay with his back to her as his grin grew wider, challenging her with a serious tone, “Anything else you need to confess, Gigi?”

“No,” she sounded utterly f*cking pitiful behind him, and he melted a little bit more when he felt two fingers reach out and touch his back, seeking out some minor comfort because she was afraid he’d reject a more outright show of affection.

“You know what the f*cking problem is, Gigi?” Before his girl had time to respond to his question he turned to her, and jerking her to him with an arm around her back he quickly rolled on top of her. Fingers gripping both her wrists, he pinned them to the mattress over her head.

He took a moment to admire his gorgeous dancer from his close vantage point before he demanded, “Speak when you’re spoken to, Gigi,” turning what had always been a threatening command into a savory taunt, his breath ghosting across her lips as he murmured to her. Like a blood hound, he sniffed her mouth, and down her neck, searching for Prancer’s f*cking scent on his girl. If he found it, he would drag her ass into the shower, f*cking purple Prada get up and all, and hose her the f*ck down. “Do you know what the f*cking problem is?” he repeated, waiting for her to respond.

“No.”

“Hmmm.” Changing gears, he questioned her, “Did you brush your teeth before you came over here, Gigi? Twenty strokes in each of the ten sections of your mouth?” He was teasing her about the OCD method of brushing she’d shared with him the morning after they’d first slept together. “Or am I going to taste Misha if I kiss you?” Not giving her time to answer him, he rose to his knees. Flipping her onto her stomach, he jerked her onto her hands and knees, his hand underneath her forcing her rear end against his groin. His other hand encircled her throat, and he used it to pull her upright so she was kneeling with her back to his chest. Moving his free hand to her mons, he pressed her firmly against him. He could feel her breathing quicken and he wondered if it was out of fear or excitement. It needed to be excitement, because he took no pleasure from women’s fear.

“Yes,” was all Gigi could manage to spit out, and neither of them were quite sure which question she was answering. “I brushed my teeth,” she added for clarification.

She trembled in anticipation, unsure of what he was going to do. The fact he was toying with her after everything she had dumped on him was a good sign. Outwardly he seemed physically aggressive, but his actions were precise and calculated, his tone not angry, but calm and assertive. He was in full control of himself, despite his upset with her, and she found the whole of it very appealing.

“Let me tell you what the problem is, Gigi,” he started.

She melted into him, resting the back of her head on his collarbone, wanting him to know she was okay with what he was doing. A thrill ran through her when she felt evidence of his arousal pressing into her rear end, even as he growled in obvious displeasure at the thought of her interaction with Misha.

The hand around her throat kept her in place, while the other began to wander. It roamed to her chest to cup and then fondle one of her breasts, then down her stomach to the outside of her thigh, where he proceeded to pull at her gown, bunching it in his fingers to raise it. Negan was immensely pleased when his girl automatically lifted one knee, then the other, to release the material trapped between her and the bed, when he was prevented from pulling the fabric any further. Good girl.

He continued his work, chuckling and then moaning in appreciation when his fingertips detected she was bare under her dress. Fuuuuuck. “My dirty f*cking girl!” he chided her dramatically before placing a gentle, sloppy, wet kiss at the nape of her neck. “Did you go commando all night, Gigi? Or did you take off your underwear before you came over here to see me?” he murmured, jerking one of her thighs away from the other, spreading her knees on the bed. He then proceeded to claim what was between them with his long fingers, teasing her by resting them on the outside of her folds as he waited for her affirmation.

“I took them off for you … be ... before I came over,” Gigi stuttered, her breath catching in response to the way he was handling her.

“Are you sure you didn’t take them off for Misha?”

Gigi found it disquieting Negan’s tone was so even and reasonable as he asked her about her possible ill intentions. “No!” she insisted. She tried to present herself as offended, but even she could hear how frantic she sounded, trying to convince him the idea was preposterous. “I would only take them off for you, Negan!”

“Good girl,” he praised her softly, “Because I’m the only man who should see my gorgeous puss*, right, Gigi?”

“Yes,” she reassured him, squirming in his grip because it had tightened over her folds. Negan’s fingers were maddeningly still where they rested on her, and each time she shifted or trembled, they teased her in the worst way. Each unintentional tease heightened her arousal, in turn making it almost impossible for her to keep herself from moving her hips to achieve some sort of friction.

“Damn f*cking right!” he affirmed, chuckling when he felt his girl trying to force herself against the fingers between her legs, while simultaneously fighting to stay still.

“So, back to our problem, Gigi.” Gripping her crotch more firmly, he forced her to hold still as he purred in her ear, “I’d say I need to clarify what it means to be mine. You told me this belongs to me.” Negan was kind enough to run his fingers from the back to the front of her slit, dipping them into the warm silkiness for a tactile taste. He almost lost his stern, assertive tone when he found her wet for him. Aroused at the simple f*cking promise of his touch. f*ck, yes.

“You and I seem to differ in our opinion of what it means to belong to someone.” He continued, nibbling his way up the side of her neck, stopping right below her ear lobe to lick the sensitive skin right behind it and reveling in the sound of her stuttering breath and the sight of her head lolling to the side when she relaxed in response to his ministrations. Grinning, he bit the same spot with force enough to startle her, but not hard enough to leave a mark. Her spine straightened as she gasped, one of her hands clutching his bicep in response to the pain. He immediately licked the inflamed area with a broad tongue to quell the sting. “I think you need a lesson in what it means to be mine, Gigi.”

Without prompting, his amazing f*cking girl returned a very respectful, “Yes, sir.”

Oh. f*cking. My. Gigi.

“Mmm hmm,” he hummed with satisfaction, and lapped at the silky skin behind her ear and nibbled its shell while he finished the task of raising her skirt. He pushed the wad of material in front of her belly, ordering, “Hold this, please.”

Hyper focused on his every move and word, and distracted by his tongue at her ear, it took Gigi a moment to process and act on his command. Negan startled her out of her daze, his hand leaving her throat and coming down with force on the outside of her thigh, causing her to grunt at the impact. He took immense f*cking pleasure in the way her head snapped up to search his face, as if to confirm he had been the one to smack her.

His hand cut through the air once more, with more force, landing on the same spot on her thigh before he demanded in a calm but assertive tone, “Rule number one, Gigi - speak when you’re spoken to! Do you understand?” He began to gently rub the reddened skin on her leg as he waited for her response, because the smack wasn’t about hurting her, it was about heightening her senses, and focusing her attention on him.

Gigi’s body jumped at the impact, and despite the sting she found herself stifling a moan of pleasure. She trembled in her excitement, a small whimper finally escaping her lips before she blurted out, “I understand!” She reached for the fabric in his hand so she could follow his directive, because she knew, instinctively, “speak when you are spoken to” also meant “do as you are told”. She knelt in front of him with her lower half exposed to him, feeling both vulnerable and aroused, the familiar feeling of an electric current pulsing between her thighs.

“You know, I’m looking at your purple Prada dress, Gigi, and I’m a little f*cking confused,” he informed her out of the blue, running his fingers over the smooth fabric. “I’m confused,” he explained dramatically, “because I distinctly remember you telling Misha you had found a black dress to wear to the Kennedy Center. I was a little bit surprised to see you in this purple dress.

“Puuurple.” He drew out the word to emphasize it. “Black,” he growled succinctly. “Big difference, Gigi. Want to explain how your black dress magically changed to purple after your friend expressed his desire to see you wear purple on your date?” Moving his head over her shoulder, Negan turned it to look at her expectantly. He couldn’t wait to hear her answer. The question had been eating at him since the moment he had noted the color in the photo she’d sent him.

Gigi knew he wasn’t going to like her response. She was silent for a half a beat longer than needed, and her eyes followed his hand as it started to move, readying itself to remind her of the consequences for not speaking when she was spoken to.

“Misha bought me a new dress to wear. The purple dress!” Gigi spouted, her words running together in one long stream in her attempt to speak quickly enough. She didn’t know why she had rushed to answer him, when she found the possibility of another spank, tantalizing.

Uh, oh. She knew there was trouble in store for her when Negan not only didn’t respond to her admission, but he suddenly backed off, hands dropping from her body. He then crawled off the bed and stormed out of the room.

Oh, no.

Confused and worried, she internally debated whether to let her skirt drop back down to the bed so she didn’t feel so exposed, but she sensed it wouldn’t be the best idea. She needed to stay put and wait for Negan to come back to her, however long it would take.

Gigi could hear him moving about the kitchen. She heard him opening and closing one of his cupboards. She heard the sound of ice cubes dropping into a glass, then the sound of the water dispenser whirring as it filled the receptacle. She heard Negan’s loud “Hahhh,” of satisfaction after, what she assumed was a long drink of the beverage. She listened to the sound of one of the cabinet drawers opening, and the sound of utensils being pushed around in it before the drawer slammed shut and silence took over.

She tried to interpret his actions, wondering whether he was simply a little upset she had let another man dictate her wardrobe, or whether he was furious, and couldn’t look at her, after finding out her friend had bought her a designer dress. Gigi wouldn’t blame him, honestly. She had expressed her own irritation when Misha had presented her with a garment bag the day before the honors ceremony, informing her he had found the perfect dress for her to wear, and their seamstress in New York, Maya, had altered it in only three days so he could carry it with him on the plane to Washington. Gigi had fussed at him, not believing his precious color purple was so important to him he would spend the money and energy on a dress when she already had a perfectly wonderful dress to wear. Then she had opened the bag and fallen in love with the darn thing.

The sound of Negan coming down the hall snapped her out of her thoughts, and she straightened her posture. She had relaxed and lowered to resting on her shins while he had been in the kitchen. She rose back up to her knees and moved them apart so they were spread as they had been when he’d left.

When the football coach reentered the bedroom, his girl was kneeling just as he had left her, the fabric of her skirt still bunched in her hand. He made a show of taking a drink of his water as he looked her over, then placed the glass on his nightstand.

It wasn’t the ice water which caught Gigi’s eye. It was the dressmaker’s scissors in his other hand which held her rapt attention. “Oh, Negan. You wouldn’t!” she exclaimed, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Oh yes, I f*cking would!” Laughing a two note laugh which sing-songed from low note to high, he gave her a co*cky smirk, wrinkling his nose at her and giving her a mock shiver of pleasure at what he was about to do. Livid at what the dress represented, he didn’t want to spend another second looking at Misha’s ridiculously priced, patronizing gift. Stepping up behind her, Negan carefully placed the open blades of the shears over the fabric at the back of her dress. One initial snip was all it took to get started, and the spread blades of the ultra sharp tool did the rest of the work for him, slicing down through the material until it got caught in the bundle which had been raised to her waist.

Negan worked quickly to straighten the fabric while he cut and chopped, the sound of the metal blades snipping together and whooshing apart even as his hands moved to unbundle her skirt. The end result was better than he could have ever imagined in his warped f*cking mind, and he stepped back to admire his work. His girl knelt in front of him, the picture of submission with her eyes and chin lowered toward the bed. She hadn’t moved or protested as he had annihilated her expensive dress, his good f*cking girl. It now hung open, its cut edges in tatters. Her toned back and beautiful f*cking ass were now exposed to him, her knees spread wide, just as he had placed them. Mine, Misha! She’s not your f*cking paper doll to dress up!

Still shocked at what he’d done, Gigi remained motionless when she heard the clank of the scissors as he placed them on a shelf behind her, when she wanted nothing more than to turn and see if she could read Negan’s expression and his body language. She felt his body heat as he stepped into her space, stopping just shy of touching her. An arm around her waist pulled her closer to the edge of the bed. He pressed his erection into her rear end, but made no other connection with their bodies.

The dancer gasped lightly when he tenderly kissed a trail up the side of her neck and then back down, his fingers pushing the ruined dress off her shoulders without finesse. The caress of his lips was affectionate and soothing, a contrast to his rough actions. Both were fierce and impassioned, though, intending to make his point. She was his. She belonged to him, and he refused to let another man mark her. The pulsing in her core had ratcheted into a throb, and Gigi could feel a trail of her own lubrication trickle down the inside of her upper thigh.

She wanted her someday to find it. Please touch me.

Yanking the gown down her arms he finally pushed the offending dress off her and let it drop on the bed in front of her. His hands were suddenly on her breasts, palming them, and pinching and rolling her nipples, causing her to pant loudly.

“These are mine, Gigi.”

“Yes.”

His hands ran over her shoulders, and down her sides, finally coming to rest low on her glutes where he kneaded the muscles roughly with his broad hands. “This is mine, Gigi.” Palms low, fingers up, his thumbs pushed between her legs as he massaged her, teasing the back of her folds in the most delicious way, making her whimper with need.

“Hehhhh … Yes,” she managed to cry softly, because good girls needed to speak when they were spoken to, and she was at the mercy of his teasing hands, driven to be good for him so she would be rewarded.

“This is mine, Gigi,” Negan nipped his way across her shoulder once more, this time with force, marking her skin so he would be able to admire the pattern he was creating after he was finished with her.

His tiny dancer gasped, and grunted and whined as he bit her repeatedly. She forgot to answer him, she was so overcome by the sensations he was eliciting. He was intentionally dropping them on her hard and fast, one after the other, with the intention of overwhelming her. He startled her when he spanked her, causing her to gasp once more.

“It’s yours!” she finally assured him, remembering what was expected of her. “Only yours!” she added for good measure.

“Good girl, Gigi,” Negan purred in her ear, painting a long stripe down the side of her face with his tongue, marking her. “This is mine, too, right?” he questioned, running his index finger along her cheekbone, rutting into her ass unashamedly as he fought to continue his power play, instead of ditching it in favor of f*cking her.

"Yes."

"Sooo much more to f*cking do!" Negan reminded himself as he snapped out of his lusty fog. A palm between her shoulder blades, he bent Gigi forward, pressing her chest to the mattress. Her ass in the air, his dancer arched her back in response to the pressure of his other hand gently pushing on the middle of her spine. He had effectively spread her wide f*cking open for him, and he relished the visual which was laid out before him.

Gigi could do nothing other than yelp when he grabbed the cheeks of her bum, thumbs in her crack, pulling her to the edge of the bed forcefully where he proceeded to spread her further apart; digging his fingers in so deeply and pulling her flesh so taut it made the skin at the juncture at the top of her cleft sting.

“This!” he declared dramatically. “This especially!” He leaned down and spit in the center of her pucker and proceeded to rub his thumb over and around her rim, circling and pressing on it as she writhed in pleasure beneath him. “This is mine!” Utterly immersed in his own declarations, Negan’s voice was rising. “And only mine, Gigi!” he insisted loudly.

“Yes, Negan!” Gigi groaned as his thumb worked its magic on her. What initially had seemed a taboo kink to her was now a want and a need for her. She physically longed for him to put one of his fingers all the way inside her. But it wasn’t going to be, because her someday was already moving on to his next possession.

Gigi was aching for him to caress her between her folds, her frustration mounting. But this wasn’t about her. While Negan was playing, his intentions were clear. He wanted to remind her who she belonged to. He needed to hear her confirm it.

She couldn’t say she deserved what she was getting, because the torture he was putting her through was divine as opposed to uncomfortable. She didn’t even know if he was intentionally or unintentionally voicing his feelings for her while he demanded her confirmation of his possessions. The physical and verbal force of his declarations made her heart ache with pride and longing for him and was making her ache for his touch. It also made her feel even more guilty she had acted so impulsively with Misha.

Negan ran his hands over her back and down her sides once more, laying hands on as much of her as he could before he put his thumbs down in the side of his boxers and quickly pushed them down his hips, kicking them off his feet.

Bending over his girl, he let only his lips touch her, grazing her shoulder while the head of his co*ck played at her entrance. He purposely hovered a few inches above her, even though his tiny dancer tried to arch her back up to meet him and push back to physically connect with him. “Uh, uh!” he admonished sternly. “I didn’t tell you to move, Gigi!”

“No, sir.” She didn’t know what else to say, but she knew she needed to say something, because he had spoken to her. Gigi was bordering on despair, the sexual tension and the lack of physical contact becoming too much to bear.

“So good for me, Gigi,” he praised her, noting how her breath hitched emotionally at his praise. “I just need you to be good for me all the time, sweetheart, even when I’m not with you. Do you think you can do that for me? Remember who you belong to, like my good girl?”

His girl’s head nodded eagerly where it lay on the bed, and her eyes searched for him, moving as far as they could in his direction without moving her cheek off the mattress where he’d placed it, desperate to make even a visual connection with him. Her need for any little bit of contact with him was bordering on frantic.

Gigi hadn’t responded to him verbally, but Negan was letting it slide. He could feel she was on the edge of breaking into tears, her breath coming hard and fast. She was caught in a place somewhere between needing to please him, needing to physically touch him since he had deprived her of the sight and feel of him, and her need to relieve her sexual frustration since he’d been teasing her mercilessly, his good f*cking quivering, panting wreck of a girl. My f*cking girl.

He finally lowered himself so he was pressed to her back, and felt her relief physically wash over her immediately. One more major reminder and he would give her what she needed and reward her in a huge f*cking way.

She was still ass up as he’d positioned her, and he moved his hands underneath her belly, skimming them downward, tickling her abs with his fingertips while he listened to her whimper in relief at the sudden feel of his chest on her back, and at his hands caressing her. He finally grazed the inside of her thighs with his fingertips, and he wanted to shout with f*cking joy at what he found as he moved his fingers upward. His awesome f*cking devoted, amazing, f*cking hot ass girlfriend, and yes he f*cking meant girlfriend, was so turned on by his possessive domination, the inside of her thighs were coated with her excitement. Mother f*cking f*cker! f*ck me! So f*cking hot.

Gigi held her breath when his fingers began caressing her inner thighs. She heard him huff out a breath as his fingers skated through the wetness he found and he kissed her shoulder blade and her neck and the corner of her mouth, rewarding her for being good for him.

Words started pouring out of Negan. He needed to let his tiny dancer know, in his own way, what the physical evidence of her lust meant to him. “You … f*cking goooood girl … my girl … only my f*cking girl, aren’t you Gigi? Only mine …”

“Yes. Yes, Negan. Only yours, Always … only. Ohmygod … ”

Her words were cut short, and she let out a heart wrenching little sob when his fingers finally made their way between her folds and started to work on her cl*t with purpose, rewarding her for being so f*cking good for him, by showing him how she felt about him with her wet f*cking thighs and puss*. Because in all his f*cking years, and after all the many women he’d f*cked around with, he’d never had anyone express such intense desire for him. It made him a little f*cking proud, a little f*cking happy, and a f*ck ton of horny.

“Gonna make my good girl come for me,” he promised, nipping at her earlobe before he retreated from her back. “Just for me. Only me.”

Before she could protest the loss of him she was rocketed into the most heavenly of places when his mouth suddenly attacked her from behind, laving and sucking and licking both her nub and her pucker, one then the other, back and forth, with a force and a passion like none she’d ever felt before, even from her someday.

Gigi pushed back into him, trying to heighten the sensations, whining when he hit the sweet spot she knew would make her fly over the edge. “Right there! Please?!” she begged him, but he’d already moved on. “Oh, no, Negan! Please? Please!”

After a few seconds of savoring his girl’s pleading, Negan backtracked to the spot which made her writhe as her hips canted and quivered, and then remained still as he worked her with his mouth, feeling her shift slightly left to put him exactly where she needed him. He pressed his index finger into the center of her ass, watching as the tip of it disappeared, clenched in tight, wet heat.

f*ckf*ckf*ckf*ckf*ckfuuuuck. He smiled to himself when her hips stilled, and she held her breath, close to her org*sm, and dirty f*cking dog he was, at the moment she relaxed into the start of her org*sm, he slid the digit all the way into her relaxed and willing ass.

His girl’s head snapped back and she keened, her hips bucking. She wailed in her release, once again topping any response he’d ever had the pleasure of eliciting from a woman. Mine,mine,mine,mine,mine! Negan wasted no time pulling his finger from her and repositioning himself to plow into her puss* from behind, even as she was still in the throws of her org*sm, because he couldn’t wait another f*cking second to pound into her to seek out his own release. It was less than a minute before he pulled his dick out of her, cursing and grunting as he flipped her one-handed onto her back. Scrambling up her body, he knelt over her hips, stroking his co*ck quickly as he looked down at his spent girl.

“Who do you belong to, Gigi?” he demanded, his eyes boring into hers. She blinked her eyes in an attempt to focus on him, slow in her response. “Speak when you are spoken, to! Who takes your f*cking breath away?!”

“My someday,” she smiled up at him, her eyes suddenly bright with her affection for him. “You’re the only one who ever has ...” She emphasized her words by squeezing the top of his thighs.

Negan let loose, shooting a torrent of seed all over her stomach and chest, marking her as his own. His head dropped back and he growled at the ceiling as he came.

As the last of his ji*zz spurted from his co*ck, he moved his palm to the edge of the puddle he’d left on her torso. Using his hand as a squeegee, he pushed his spunk up her chest, to her neck and jawline, painting her with it’s creaminess. Dipping two fingers into the hollow of her throat, he scooped up a bit of the fluid which had pooled there. He proceeded to push it up her chin and over her mouth, coating every bit of her lips with it out of a need to erase every f*cking trace of her infidelity, minor as it had been, before he forced his gooey fingers into her mouth. His best girl sucked and licked at his fingers, cleaning them off.

Gigi’s someday rested on his haunches over her, gazing down at her with fire in his eyes. Fire and more than a bit of satisfaction at the sight of his handiwork. She didn’t know who was more pleased, him for claiming and marking his territory, or her for inspiring such anger, possessiveness and passion in him over the idea of sharing her. In her mind, it seemed they both had gotten what they had needed.

Chapter 26: I'll Send You A Sign

Chapter Text

Negan woke up at six in the morning, feeling like a new man, in spite of the fact he’d only had two hours of sleep. After he had claimed each and every one of his girl’s favorite body parts as his very f*cking own, he and Gigi had both wound down in record time, spent and satisfied. They had not, however, passed out before his girl had insisted on laying lips on him. She’d needed some affection after he’d taught her his lesson. He had collapsed onto his back after he had decorated his girl in his spunk, and she’d immediately crawled on top of him, flattening her sticky torso against his chest as she licked the last of his come off her lips.

She had descended on him for a slow, deep kiss.He hadn’t realized, until she’d inadvertently pointed it out to him, depriving her of a physical connection with him while he had toyed with her had alsomeanthehad deprived her of any affection, other than his praise. Shehad spent some time reminding him what he had missed out on.

“I need kisses,” she’d tapped his temple with her index finger after her hungry kiss. “Find something to do in here if you want, Negan. I’ll just have my way with your lips for a few minutes,” she suggested, as if expecting him to participate after he org*smed was too much to ask and as if, at some point in her past, someone had made her feel like a burden for wanting to make sure her own needs were fulfilled. The thought she’d spent her entire marriage unfulfilled, in so many ways, made him a little f*cking sad for her.

Her someday was going tomakesure she got every f*cking thing she needed. He had learned,early on,if he wanted to f*ck around with a woman more than once, it was in his best interest if he lavished just a little time and affection on her. Luckily for Gigi, in DaddyNegan’sself-helpbook , The Power of Positive f*cking, there was a chapter titled “Give and Ye Shall Receive” and another, “As Ye Sow, So Shall Ye f*cking Reap”. Father Benson at Our Lady of Perpetual Faith would certainly feel compelled to recite twenty “Hail Mary’s” if he knew how Negan had twisted what he’d learned in Sunday school to fit his own lascivious needs, especially since it went against every sex-for-procreation-only core belief the church had tried to instill in Negan from the minute he and his peers had started growing pubic hair. It was a shame he couldn’t send the good Father a signed copy of his book.

Before he and Lucille had finally hooked up in college, Negan had worked hard on expanding and fine tuning his two favorite chapters in his book, because he had learned if he made sure his latest conquest had an org*sm, it would loosen her up, and then he could lick, suck, finger and f*ck her however he desired, as long as he didn’t cross any hard lines she’d drawn in the sand. If he took things one step further, and made the effort to ferret out a woman’s kinks and needs, and negate her insecurities, she might even reach out and erase some of those sandy lines with the swipe of her big toe. You sow, you reap. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.

In the beginning it had been the challenge of bringing Gigi to org*sm which had driven Negan to satisfy her, but then the worshiping looks she had given him as a result made him want to do it again and again. As they’d become closer, his need to satisfy her started outweighing the want. He didn’t need to sate his girl so she would erase lines in the sand. If Gigi had any lines she wouldn’t cross, he hadn’t found them yet, his prissy, f*cking lusty, trusting, little vixen.

Negan was driven to satiate her just so he could see the veneration in her gaze and hear the passion in her cries, his noisy f*cking girl, and he fully f*cking enjoyed the joy and wonder in her expression when she looked at him while he was f*cking her, or after he kissed her, and the way she validated him in the sack, over and over, in a million little ways, like he was the cat’s meow. All of those things, along with her magical snatch, made him want to rock her f*cking world on the regular. All the other stuff aside,he liked making her f*cking happy.

Gigihadn’t given him time torebuthersuggestion heshouldrelax andignoreher before she had started gently nipping and grazing and licking, running her lips over his brow and cheekbones in between her kisses, clearly needing the intimate connection it provided. In no time, she had started lightly panting, humming with contentment, and canting herhipsagainst his belly because she’d gottenherself worked up again over making out with him.

Unable to simply lie there and takeherunintentional tugs on his nose ring, he’d rolled Gigi onto her back, holding her tightlyagainst his chest, cradling her in his arms like apuss*fiedf*cker who was in touch with hisromantic,feminine side.She hadsmiled up at him in hersparklyf*cking way,looking thankful and a bitsurprised he actually wanted totake the time tokiss her back. Her heartfelt response had prompted him to show her how much he liked the way she liked him.

His girl had huffed, and panted and purred, which had made him glad he had put in the effort. When he had finally pulled back from her and informed her they needed to stop drooling all over each other and get some f*cking sleep, she had looked at him in her way, as if he had handed her the world on a gold f*cking platter. He knew he’d done good. He'd fallen asleep half on top of her, one of her perky tinies cupped beneath his palm, her fingers carding through his hair.

"I could get used to that sh*t,"Negan decided as he dismissed the alarm on his phone, which was set to go off in over an hour. He was wide awake, with no chance in hell of going back to sleep. Who am I trying to kid? I’m already used to it. I need it like a meth addict needs his next f*cking hit. Nuts, meet your new owner. Her name is Gigi. The spot beside him on his bed was empty, which was a serious bummer, because the little bastard was twitching at the memory of covering his dancer inji*zz, andwasdefinitely in the mood for a morning tumble.

The football coach didn’t know why, but he felt he had a renewed sense of purpose, ready to dive into his day.Rolling out of bed,hewondered what time his girl had left him as he raked his fingernails across the hair on his chest.Hesquinted against the morning sun coming through the sliding glass doors. It was low in the sky, hiding behind the top of trees at the edge of Gigi’s yard, and was making itself knownevery few seconds, suddenly peeking through the branches when the morning breeze made them sway.

Making his way to the kitchen,he pulled the carafe out from under the coffee maker so he could fill it with water at the sink. He needed some strong coffee. He hadn’t made himself a pot since the day Lucillehadasked him to brew some so she could tasteitwhen he kissed her. Little had he known at the time, she had been asking him to perform her favorite, twenty-five year old morning ritual for one last time before she died. Apparently, he had needed a three month break before he could look at his coffee maker again.

Three f*cking months. Thelengthof the time lapse was a bit surreal. He thought about the conversationhe’d had with his wife ontheir last morning together, hittingthe button to brew six cups. Pulling out his phone, he texted Gigi to see if she wanted him to bring a cup over to her place for her, or bring her one to school, so shewouldn’t need to stop at Starbucks.

His felt a pang in his chest as he replayed the discussion he’d had with Lucille. She had wanted to be sure he was ready to handle life without her. She’d needed to know he would move forward in a healthy way, with the right friends and the right woman, and without his asshole of a father. His wife had taken care of him so f*cking well during their entire marriage, and she’d felt the need to instruct him about best way to take care of himself once she was gone. He had to admit he was doing pretty f*cking well, considering. He supposed part of the reason why, had to do with the new next door neighbor Lucille never had the chance to meet. He wondered if his wife and Gigi would have gotten along.

While he waited for his pot to brew, he cleaned up the mess he’d made the night before, even squatting to inspect the hardwood to make sure there had been no warping due to some missed liquid. He glanced out the window behind the sink when movementon his back lawncaught his eye while he wiped the last of some small shards of glass off the counter. Gigi was bouncing toward the dock in one of her short tankunitardswith the spaghetti straps, athin blanketdraped over her shoulder, full of her usual morning energy. Jesus, woman. Calm the f*ck down. Definitely not a morning person, Negan huffed out a laugh as he watched her leap onto the dock and practically sprint to the far end. Spreading her blanket out, she proceeded to sit on it facing the water, her legs spread in front of her. She started stretching, hands over her head, thumbs locked together as she shifted her deltoids, up and down, forward and back, rolling her shoulders.

Negan’s question was answered as to where he should drop off his girl’s coffee. He watched her as he poured two cups, adding milk to Gigi’s mug and leaving his black. After only a few minutes, his girl seemed to give up on her endeavor, and after looking up and down the creek, she proceeded to lay back on her blanket and shimmy out of her dance wear. Dropping it on the dock next to her, she lay nude, her arms spread out next to her, palms up.

Niiiiiiice . Negan took a moment to admire the view as he took a sip of his coffee. Checking the front of the coffee maker for the time, he pondered the fact there was a hot, naked chick on his dock, and he had quite a bit of time until he needed to get a shower and head to work.

__________

Gigi was sitting on the dock, soaking in the morning sun while she stretched. It had crept from her right into the middle of the dock where her blanket lay, and as it rose, it had moved into the open sky between two trees at the edge of her yard, and was now bathing her in light. The air was heavy with its usual late summer humidity. She’d hoped the early morning hour would ensure a less tropical feel, so she could stretch without working up a major sweat, but it wasn’t to be. A few minutes into her routine, she was pushing perspiration soaked hair back from her forehead, trying to use her fingers to thread the strays between those still held in a ponytail from the day before, so they would stay back out of her face. She hadn’t showered yet, only stopping to wipe off the dried traces of Negan’s sem*n with a wet rag before she had come outside. She was enjoying the scent of him all over her, musky, with a hint of his cologne and body wash.

She smiled at how he’d marked her in more ways than one as she turned her face up to the sun and enjoyed the feel of its warmth. The atmosphere was like a sauna, with the moist, heavy air and the hot sun beating down on her. An idea hit her and she turned her head from side to side, taking in her isolated location on the creek. Confirming she was alone, she wiggled out of her little bit of clothing. Dropping it on the dock beside her, she lay back to soak in the sun. Her stretching session was officially over when it had barely begun, she mused. Maybe she would skip her morning workout as well.

It felt a little naughty, being nude out in the open, but then again, since Negan had come into her life she had done so many things she wouldn’t have previously dreamed of. Her bad boy had turned being wicked into something to aspire to, into something thrilling and good, because it was something which pleased him. Before him, being risqué had always gone hand in hand with feeling guilty for doing something she had viewed as base or kinky. Something which had made her feel shameful. Thanks to him, naughty was now synonymous with pleasurable. Very pleasurable. She wondered whether other women would view his tastes as raunchy, or whether she was just a bit of a prude. She chuckled to herself, suspecting the latter, sure their play would be considered mild.

He had introduced her to so many new sensations in such a short time. It felt good for Gigi to loosen up some of her very tight boundaries, and Negan had made it clear he enjoyed helping her explore new territory. He had called her his dirty girl more than once when she had expressed her pleasure while he was introducing her to something new, or pushing her limits. Her response was always pride, instead of shame, perhaps because of the lustful look in his eye each time he said it - the sexy, heated look which precipitated him scrambling on top of her to kiss her breathless, or pampering her again with whatever sensation had inspired her vocal appreciation. He was rewarding her, she realized, for validating him. Her responses were important to him.

As she relaxed on the dock, she felt Negan’s eyes on her before she heard him approaching. It wasn’t the first time she’d sensed him when she couldn’t physically see him. At his back to school party she had been keenly aware of his eyes following her in the crowd, and she had been compelled to search him out, visually, to confirm she was the subject of his gaze, because he’d brought out the teenager in her, whose heart would pound when she’d found her crush focused on her. He still evoked the same response in her, now they were together, and she couldn’t imagine the feeling would ever wane.

The morning sun was shining in her eyes, making it difficult for her to open them to search for him, so she waited for the sound of him to confirm his location. Her heartbeat increased with each telltale sign he was he was making his way to her. The sound of one of the doors on his deck sliding open. The creak of his wooden deck and stair steps several seconds apart, then the swish of his feet through the grass as he approached the dock. The feel of his gaze caressing her from head to toe as he watched her silently from several feet away before he finally moved closer. She heard the sound of silverware rattling in coffee cups, two of them, before they were placed on one of the pillars a few feet away from her. The smell of the pungent roast in the mugs wafted her way, soothing her in the same way it did every time she stepped into Grandma Flo’s house in Alabama, because there was always a fresh pot of coffee on the warmer at her grandmother’s.

She heard the rustle of fabric asNeganremoved whatever clothing he had dragged up his legs when he’d gotten out of bed. She knew without opening her eyes it was only his underwear, or only his shorts. One or the other, not both, because two pieces of clothing were too much of a hassle when you weren’t a morning person and you needed to ‘ roll your ass out of bed’ and get your day started, she’d been told.

Gigi gasped lightly when Negan’s bare foot was suddenly between her ankles, nudging them apart, then nudging them a bit further. Being the good girl she was for him, Gigi put her feet flat on the dock’s surface, and pulled them closer to her rear end before she let her knees fall open so he could see all of her, because he had made it clear, several times, he liked to look at every inch of her.

She heard the growl emanating from deep in his chest. She tried to open her eyes to see his expression, but the sun blinded her the second her lids were slightly parted so she let them drift shut again, giving him a self-satisfied grin.

“My f*cking good girl,” was all she needed to hear, spurring her to pull her knees up to her chest, then spread them as far apart as she could for him, his praise pushing her to give him more, so he would praise her again. “f*cking beautiful, Gigi.” She could hear the rhythm behind his words, a dead giveaway he was stroking himself as he looked down at her, her nasty boy.

__________

This. This was the sh*t wet dreams were made of. Out in the open, his girl was inviting him between her thighs with a wanton gesture. A gesture he knew she wouldn’t have dreamed of making a few short weeks ago. He smirked at the memory of her pulling her sleep shirt down to cover herself the first night they’d fooled around. He growled, unable to stifle his response to her ribald display.

He was on her in a flash,crawling on top of her,his body melting into her sun warmed skin while he enjoyed the feel of her toned muscles contrasted with her soft curves. Kissing her tenderly, he murmured against her full lips, “We have about forty-five minutes before I need to get ready for work, Gigi. Think I can f*ck you in forty-five minutes?” His precious f*cking girl tried to open her eyes to look at him as her fingertipsskimmedover his cheekbones and jawline to feel him, but she was blinded by sunlight beating down on them, so sheimmediately shut them and nodded in affirmation.

“Yes, please,” she remembered to answer him because he’d spoken to her. The added please wasn’t so much her being polite, as it was her begging him to crawl inside her. The sex they’d had a few hours before had been incredible, but Gigi had felt as if she hadn’t gotten enough of him. She also needed the intimacy to reassure her everything was okay between them, after she’d screwed up so badly.

Seeing his girl struggle to open her eyes, Negan pulled her unitard to him from a few feet over. Twisting it in his hands, he then placed it over her eyes and tied it behind her head. “You don’t need to see me, Gigi,” he informed her, pulling her legs closer together with his hands. “You just need to feel me.” He moved his hips so she could feel the head of his co*ck as it slid forward, stopping when the very tip was surrounded in her folds. “ f*ck me, Gigi,” he moaned at the feel of her, pausing after nestling a bit further into her warmth. “You still wet from before?”

“No,” she responded breathily, her hips moving beneath him, trying to force him further inside her.

“Well, I can feel it on my co*ck, Gigi.” He countered her response by moving his hips forward and back a fraction of an inch, so they could both feel him glide easily through her slick. “Feels like you’re still wet, to me, doll.” He grinned when she whined as he teased her with his dick, but his smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared when she floored him with her f*cking honesty.

“That’s from a few minutes ago. I got excited when I felt you watching me,” she explained. He assumed she was referring to when he’d been standing over her on the dock leering at her, but then she continued, “… and more excited when I knew you were coming to me. Before I could even hear you, I could feel you.” She reached blindly between them, patting her chest, over her heart. “In here,” she expounded, before she moved her hand further down her body. Negan lifted his hips, so her hand could continue its journey, fascinated by what she was telling him. “And here.” She rubbed her fingertips low on her belly, and then patted her mons.

“You could feel me?”Neganquestioned her.

His cute as f*ck, blindfolded girl nodded her head earnestly, utterly serious when she replied, “Like at the party. When I could feel you looking at me?” questioning him as if he was fully aware of what she was referring to. Her hands began tomoving, caressing him, trying to “see” him with her sense of touch, since her eyes were covered.

“You could feel me looking at you?” he repeated, trying not to sound skeptical, his mind flashing back to different points during the party when she had looked for him in the crowd. He honed in on the numerous times he’d caught sight of her while he’d been making his rounds to talk to his guests. Gigi had surveyed the crowd, and when their eyes met, he’d given her a wink, or she’d smiled at him, then they had gone about their business. He’d assumed his eyes had always landed on her first because he’d been acting like an infatuated f*cking creeper. On closer inspection, he could validate the fact he would spot her first, and within seconds her eyes would start hunting for him in return, as if she’d known he was waiting for her to acknowledge him.

Her voice dragged him out of his own head as she confessed, “Yes. And the closer you got, the more excited I got.”

“Why, Gigi?”

Her face was turned up to his, fully focused on him despite her lack of vision. Once again, his girl was perfectly content to do whatever he asked of her, wearing her blindfold, no questions asked. Pliable as all f*cking get out. “You don’t know,Negan?” she teased him. “I told youwhat effect you have on meon nationaltv, for the whole world to hear.”

“Tell me more,” he insisted gently.

Worried about what his response might be to the romantic sentiment, she murmured hesitantly, “The way you look at me … just the idea you want to be with me, it makes me quiver with anticipation.”

Strangely,Neganwas touched and turned on at the same time, promising softly,“I’ll make you f*cking quiver, sweetheart.”He kissed her, pouring himself into the show of affection in response to her making him feel all f*cking good about himself.

“Mmmmm,” shelet out a satisfiedhum when his lips left hers and started nipping at her chinand down her neck.Her handsranover his shoulders and down his backboth feeling him and caressing him. “You taste amazing. I think you should kiss me with your coffee breath every morning.”

Neganstalled in the midst of peppering her collar bone and chest with feathery kisses, his memory of Lucille’s exact words slamming into the forefront of his brain like a freight train. “Take a drink and kiss me with your coffee breath ...”

Kiss me with your coffee breath … I’ll send youa signto let you know she’s the right one … someone who challenges you … keep you on your toes .

“Negan?” his girl co*cked her head blindly, wondering why he’d pulled back from her. Her hands hurriedly moved from his back to his face, and her index finger moved between his eyebrows, searching for the frown line which deepened when he was pensive or angry. “Everything okay?” She splayed the fingers of her other hand along his jawline, checking to see if he was tensing the muscles, or grinding his molars together. Because she f*cking knew those were signs he was upset about something.

His wife had recognized the habits, as well. “You’re grinding your teeth, Negan,” Lucille would observe. “You wanna tell me why you’re upset?”

I’ll send youa signto let you know she’s the right one.

It was simply a coincidence, he was certain, but it was athought provokingf*cking coincidence. “I’m okay, Gigi,” he reassured his girl. He smiled at the worried expression she wore,which wasevident despite the clothcoveringher eyes. “I’m more than f*cking okay.”

Needing her right that f*cking instant,Neganslid inside his girl, groaning at the feel of her as she gasped in surprise at the unexpected, very pleasant invasion.Neganenjoyed the smile on her face, and the sound of her trying to catch her breath, and the feel of her walls surrounding him like a comforting blanket. A sexy, f*cking magical, comforting blanket.

Gigi pulled him down to her for a kiss, her hips immediately starting to rock to move him inside her. Chuckling at her impatience, he remained perfectly still, letting her have her way with him for a time, savoring her death grip on his ass as she dug in with her nails to pull him further into her. The frustrated little moans and grunts which escaped her were music to his ears, the utmost concentration on her partially covered face, cute as f*ck. She wanted more, and she was frustrated she couldn’t have it. “Negan?” she finally turned her face up to his, questioning him with one word as to why he was denying her.

Running his lips over hers, he commandedgently, “Tell me what you need, Gigi.”

“I need more of you , Negan.”

He gave her what she wanted, pulling her legs up around his back and bracing himself with the flat of his hands on the dock.He looked down at her as he thrust into her balls deep, grinding his hips into her and grinning when she cried out as he topped out inside her. He repeated the exaggerated moveseveral times, enjoying her reaction more with each plunge.

“What else, Gigi?”

“Closer,” she panted. “I need you closer.”A surprisingly strong arm around the back of his neck pulled him down to her, only bold enough to take what she wanted because he’d asked her. Otherwise she would have taken whatever he’d handed her, and been perfectly content.

Or maybe she wouldn’t have been content, he realized. Maybe that had been part of her problem in her relationship with her husband. Maybe she’d never told Yuri what she really wanted. But then again, maybe she voiced her desires, and she was made to feel selfish or wrong, which in turn made her afraid to voice them at all. Based on some of the things she had shared about her past, he was certain this was the case.

Layingchest to chestwith her,he continued to move deeply within her, listening to her cries become more guttural with each jerk of his hips.

“What else?”

His beautiful f*cking girl smiled up at him, admitting, “Ithink ‘ What else?’ is my favorite new phrase,Negan!”A gasp of pleasure punctuated her sentence when he snapped his hips once more. “Kisses. Lots of kisses?” she pleaded with him, hoping he would comply as readily as he had with her other requests.

Of course he complied, tasting her sweet f*cking lips, gliding over them with his own, his tongue dancing with hers, dominating, then backing off to wait for hers to seek him out. He loved the f*ck out of how she chased after him when he pulled back for a few seconds to admire her.

“Tell me what else,” Negan insisted as he showered her with nibbles and licks, and sucked on the delicate skin at the base of her throat until her breath hitched with both pleasure and a hint of pain, because he could only be sweet for so long before he threw in some rough stuff to remind her who he really was. “You know you can always tell me what you want, Gigi. You should never f*cking hesitate to tell me. Do you hear me?” After a moment he added, “And you should always tell me what you don’t want, or what makes you uncomfortable. That’s just as f*cking important.”

She listened intently to every word, her fingertips skimming down his throat as he schooled her on chapter one of The Power of Positive f*cking , the chapter titled,“TheImportanceofEffective Communication andMutual Consent”They stopped at his Adam's apple,before moving to his collar bonewhileshe considered his directives. She finally responded by wrapping her legs more tightly around his lower back and declaring, “I want you to make love to me,Negan, slow and sweet, please?”

“Ahh, f*ck!” he lamented, dramatically. “I guess it was too much to hope you’d tell me you want me to f*ck that tight little ass of yours.”

Gigi threw her head back in laughter, and he laughed with her before descending on thetiniesfor a little lip service, because tiny teasing was one of his favorite f*cking activities. She wanted slow and sweet? He would f*ck her slow and sweet, this time. Next time? He would pound her into the f*cking mattress.

Negan called on all his best moves from his book’s chapter, The Art of Romance Novel Sex. It was a chapter he had researched and written after his girlfriend, Bethany Ann, broke up with him at the end of his freshman year at U of M, informing him, “I'm tired of wham, bam, thank you ma’am, all the time, Negan. A girl likes some foreplay and some kissing.”

Trying to save face, he’d shot back, “Maybe you’re not worth all that effort!” f*ck you, Bethany Ann.

He slowed down his pace, and eliminated the hip snapping and heavy grinding, moving in and out of Gigi slow and steady, locking lips with her and not letting go. His hands roamed over her, wiping the perspiration off her forehead, and toying with Tiny one and two for a bit before he raised his hips so he could slide one hand between them to tease her cl*t for a moment. He relished the sight of her brow furrowing as she concentrated on his touch, and the tortured keening which escaped her each time he thrust into her deeply. There were no yelps this time. There would be no yelps when he was being soft and sweet. He could live with it this time. For his girl.

“Thiswhat you’re looking for, tinydancer?”heinquired,pullingalmost all the way out of herand thenmelting back into her, slow as f*cking molasses.

“Hnnnng… Exactly what I was looking for. Thank you,Negan.”

“Oh it’s my f*cking pleasure, Gigi.” Sometimes she just f*ckingslayedhim, his good f*cking girl.Wanting togo back to moving deeper inside her, he pulled his handfrom between them, andcaged his girl in withhiselbowsagainst her sides.

Pushingas deep as he possibly could,he enjoyedthe feel of his balls grinding against the pucker of her asswhenhe rotated his hips.Negancould tell she was focused on the same sensation when she squirmed beneath him, pulling her knees higher up so he would press more firmly against her.Hemay have moaned very f*cking loudly.

Gigi’s fingersmoved across his face, feeling her way, thenwere suddenly covering his eyes.“Listen,” she instructed him as shecanted her hips more forcefully,to meet his. “And feel. Just like you told me to,Negan. It’samazing!”she murmured excitedly, wanting to share what she was experiencing, her hands acting as a blind fold for him.

He playedalong, because sheaskedhim to, and he was interested to find his focus shifted after only a minute or so of losing his sight. Normally sex was a tactile, and very visual experience for himeven in the dark of night. Being completely in the darkthough, as he was now,heightened his sense of hearingand his sense of touch.Heightened the feel of each point of contact between her body and his.The heat of the sunon his back,andthe perspiration on his skinand between their bodies.

He liked her panting breaths on his cheek. The softness of her lips. The taste of her salty skin under his tongue. The awesome f*cking sensation of her deliberately and tightly clenching the silky heat of her c*nt around his co*ck when he paused for a second after each push inside her. Fan-f*cking-tastic! He loved the sound of her noisy mewling, as if each sensation he provoked was the best thing she’d ever experienced. Breathing in her scent, mixed with his own, as he nuzzled her cheek. The escalation of her cries when he started to moved deeper and faster inside her, and the sounds of his own grunts and groans of pleasure, her thighs quivering against his sides.

I’ll make you f*cking quiver, sweetheart.

“Can you come for me?” he was so close, but he was her f*cking someday and he needed to make sure his girl was satisfied.

“Don’t worry about me right now,” she urged him and he could feel her shaking her blindfolded head in all seriousness.

“Yes, I’ll f*cking worry about you,” he insisted. “It’s my f*cking job.”

“It is?” His girl’s breath hitched at a particularly powerful thrust of his hips.

“You’re doing the f*cking smiley thing, Gigi,” he informed her, a warning in his tone, letting her know not to get all f*cking mushy on him. Not while they were f*cking. “I can feel it.”

“I’ll stop,” she promised in her most serious tone of voice.

“It’s a good f*cking thing.”

Gigi protested loudly when Negan suddenly pulled out of her. Backing out of her reach, he opened his eyes. Taking in his petulant girl, he settled on his knees between her legs, resting on his shins. He lifted and positioned her ass so it rested on top of his thighs, her shoulders and head still lying on the blanket. Her half-hidden frown disappeared when he slid two fingers inside her puss* and pulsed them deep inside her at a fevered pace, his thumb sliding along her cl*t with each thrust. In between her deep moans and groans, his girl chanted his name, causing him to smile down at her.

“Negan … Mmm … Negan … Ohhhh … Negan".

He f*cking loved it. She was puss* up, head down,tit*bouncing in time with his fingering, a veritable feast for his eyes. “ Negan ! You’re so …” she panted. “I can’t … you … oh, God! Please!”

Her hips stilled, and her words quieted into whimpers, letting him know she was on the edge of her climax. When she started to quake, his arm encircled her lower back and he pulled her onto his co*ck, spreading his knees further apart so he could settle her ass between them. The feeling of her walls contracting around him, and a dozen thrusts was all it took for him to org*sm as well. “f*ck! f*ck! ”

Even as he came, Negan leaned forward and then straightened his legs so he was laying on top of Gigi once more, and reaching behind her head he untied the fabric covering her eyes. He wanted to see it. He wanted to see the whole f*cking smile he knew she’d give him any second, like she always did, and he wanted to see it from her lips all the way up to her eyes. When the cloth was removed, she immediately ducked so her face was in his shadow, and blinked several times while she tried to adjust to being blinded by light. Holding the back of her hand up in front of her face, she tried to shade her eyes further so she could see him.

“Right here, Gigi,” he reassured her, taking her hand in his and guiding it to his face. He had toadmit, the way her face lit up when she finally focused on him was just what he needed; a huge ass, sparkly smile meant just for the big, fat sorry son of a bitch who had it bad for her.

As ye sow, so shall ye f*cking reap. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

Chapter 27: Mouse and Cat

Chapter Text

Wow. That is sooo up close and personal. Too close. Ooof. The first one was better. This one looks horrible. Seriously bad. Not appealing in any way, shape or form. Maybe it’s the angle. Or is it the lighting that’s unflattering? Let’s try this again. Ouch! How many times am I going to drop this thing? Oh. My. God! This should not be so difficult! Great. Now it’s blurry. One moretry. Come on, Gigi! This should have taken ten seconds, but now this little project is going on ten minutes. There. Got it. Okay, let’s see. Yaaayyy! This one is definitely a keeper!

___________

After f*cking Gigi on the dock, Negan was absolutely f*cking certain the little bastard twitching in his boxers needed to start every day playing in his own personal Slip and Slide, out in the summer sunshine. Their morning romp had raised the coach’s endorphins so f*cking high, he’d gone as far as to greet Tobin the dough boy with an almost friendly wave, and had stopped to chat with a few of the construction laborers who were arguing about whether the Seahawk’s draft picks were going to make or break their season.

He was energized during morning practice, running up and down the football field with his players, shouting out commands, praise and constructive criticism. Feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket a half hour into practice, he wondered who was texting him. It was most likely Merle sending him a beaver shot from one of his favorite p*rn sites. He hoped it was another photo of Misty Rains. The woman had a gorgeous cooze, her cl*t as big as the f*cking state of Texas and her pubic hair shaved in the shape of a pretty little kitty cat. “ What’s new puss*cat? Woah, woah, woah!” he sing- songed in his head. Time for a f*cking p*rn break.

“All right you bunch of lazywanna-be's!” he goaded the teens from the middle of the field. “Take ten! Maybe you’ll stop playing ball like a bunch of little girls if you go f*cking hydrate yourselves!”

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he was intrigued when he spotted a notification for a text from Gigi on his home screen, which had an image attached. He had taken a shower with her before he’d left for work at seven o’clockon the nose, his girl informing him she would get to Mount Vernon in time to start practice at nine. He smirked at the idea she couldn’t get enough of him, and was texting him after only an hour without his awesome f*cking presence.

Tapping her name at the top of his list of texts, he waited for the image to load. f*cking slow data. What the f*ck am I paying ninety f*cking dollars a month for when it takes a f*cking hour to load a goddamn picture... His silent diatribe was stopped short when a black and white photo popped up on his screen. My, f*cking, my! My prissy f*cking girl sent me a naughty photo? What a good f*cking girl she is. Negan’s smirk quickly turned into a sh*t eating grin. Only my girl, sending me some artsy p*rn. His dancer had taken the shot looking down at her body from above. Cropped from a few inches below her belly button down to the juncture of her thighs. She was wearing a pair of panties trimmed in lace, with white, teeny, tiny f*cking polka dots which contrasted with the little bit of dark fabric barely covering her groin. Two of her fingers were crooked into the top of the leg opening, pulling the fabric ever so slightly towards the midline of her belly, affording him barely a glimpse of the edge of her succulent, plump, shaved mons. Just enough to get his juices flowing.

f*ckity, f*cking gorgeous naked puss*! Using two fingers, he zoomed in on her. Jesus. If I keep staring at it, I’m gonna get a f*cking boner right here in the middle of the football field. Hotdamn!

I need to lick it. Stomping his foot, he snapped his shoulders backwards and hips forward, wrinkling his nose and giving the beautiful morsel on the screen a little mock shiver of excitement. He was startled out of his erotica induced euphoria by the sound of his dancer, laughing behind him.Turning to face her, he co*cked his head, squintingas he studied her. She was standing on the sideline twenty yards away from him, phone still in her hand, watching his response to her text and smiling at his antics. “Good morning, Coach Sokolov!” he called out to her. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“It is a good morning, isn’t it?” his girl called back to him, her smile letting him know he was the reason for the great start to her day. “I actually just need to talk to Marshall for a sec, if that’s okay?” she answered his query nonchalantly,then lookedback down at her phone, preoccupied with whatever was on her screen.

Negan leered at her, curious as to how his priss was maintaining her cool after she had pole vaulted out of her f*cking comfort zone, pointing a phone at her sweet little gash and texting it to him. As he reflected on the matter, Gigi typed something on her device, then tapped the screen before she finally turned her attention to the group of boys congregating forty yards down the sideline, looking for her nephew. He raised his eyebrows in question when she made no effort to walk over to talk to the teen, but instead looked over her shoulder nervously, trying to look casual as she eyeballed the men working on the track behind her. Satisfied there was no one close by, she went back to typing. His phone vibrated in his hand once more.

8:05 AM Gigi

She misses you

already.

Fuuuuuuck . He glanced at his players down the field, who were still intent on their own conversations, then grinned at Gigi, running his tongue between his teeth. Oh, sweetheart. Are you f*cking playing with me? Gigi, Gigi, Gigi. Negan let his eyes drift back up to hers. She met his gaze and held it, a sly smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Definitely playing with me. The little bastard was now starting to crawl up his groin, coming to attention. If she kept f*cking toying with him it was going to be hard to hide the little f*cker, even behind his baggy cargo shorts. Grinning at him, she tapped her screen a few more times, then did a bit more typing, finally touching it a final time and looking back up at him. A second later another photo, along with a message, popped up on his screen.

After sending him her second selfie, Gigi’s eyes didn’t stray from his face while he studied his phone. She took great pleasure in the sight of his nostrils flaring, and his lips mouthing an infatuated, “Oooooooh.” The shake of his head, along with his huff of exasperated breath was a better response than she could have imagined. It was when his free hand raised from where it rested on his waist, though, unwittingly driven to touch the image on the screen, she knew the tiny bruise on her hip bone from dropping her phone on it twice, and the fourteen deleted images were worth every awkward, frustrating second of her time. When he glanced at her across the field, Gigi could practically feel the heat of his desire enveloping her. Mission accomplished.

f*ck. Hnnnnng. f*ck.

Negan was practically salivating on his phone. For the second photo, his vixen had raised the phone a bit higher over the juncture of her thighs, pulling the fabric of her underwear fully aside. Spreading her thighs wide open, she had shot the picture from above, so he would be able to see the front of her spread lips, and a bit of the hood of her cl*t, but no more. Massive f*cking tease, tiny dancer . She had used the stylus to draw a delicate, hot pink arrow, pointing at her hidden nub.

The new message read,

8:08 AM Gigi

Wish you were here. <3

His index and middle fingers caressing his phone, Negan tore his eyes away from the photo, bringing them back to hers. Pursing his lips, he simply stared at her, his eyes boring into hers. Houston, we have lift off! The little bastard was practically dancing with excitement. Damn it, Gigi! f*cking with me at work where there’s nothing I can do about it.

Save attachment. Save attachment.

Pulling himself out of his reverie he glared at her while he stuffed his phone back in his pocket, clapping his hands twice as he turned to jog towards his team. “All right, boys! Break’s over! Marshall! Auntie Gigi needs to speak with you!” Negan yelled to the group of players by the bench, his eyes still on his girl’s. “Everyone else, let’s do some laps!” A good run would take the wind out of the little bastard’s sails in no time. A collective groan went up from his players as he jogged towards them. “You can catch up when you’re done, Marshmallow!” He taunted the boy with the childish name his Uncle Misha had bestowed on him, turning his attention back to the rest of the teens. “Come on you big, fat bunch of whiners! Your asses better catch up and pass me, or we’re going to drop and do two hundredpush-upswhen we get back!”

___________

Shake him off, girl. Get out of your head. You have work to do! Someone’s going to notice your starry-eyed look and the fact you’re grinning like an idiot and think you’ve lost your marbles.

“One-two! One-two! Do-you! Feel-it?” Gigi called out in cut time. “Ex-tend! Ex-tend!Frameyour-face! Arms-arms!Swi-vel!” Gigi called over her shoulder to the beat while she danced with her students, demonstrating the proper moves for the cheerleaders spread out on the floor behind her. They were working on a new dance number, taking a break from the tumbling, tossing and catching, which could be downright painful for thetossersand the catchers, especially after repeating the same sequences again and again. She tried to vary the numbers they worked on during their long practices, so they didn’t feel like they had been hit by a train at the end of the day.

“Uh-up! One-Two!”

Routines, Gigi. They are routines in cheerleading ... What Negan does to me with those hands of his. The thing he did this morning? Mmmmmm . His long, talented fingers had done wondrous things to her, inside and out. For a woman who never org*smed for a man, you certainly do it at the drop of a hat for this one.

“Why-iseveryone! Getting-lost! Onthe-‘Up’ ?” She called out, turning around to face the group. “Comeon-people!Iknow-you! Cando-this!” Her fingers were snapping on the half beat, her words spoken in time with it as she watched the students who hadn’t made it off the floor on the right beat, scramble.

What is it about him? Yeah, Gigi, what is it about him that would inspire you to take photos of your crotch, and then text them to him, no less? She was both proud and horrified about her messages. The idea for her racy selfies had popped into her head in response something Negan had said during their shower in the morning. Tickling the outside of her folds with his fingers as she’d rinsed the shampoo out of her hair, he’d lamented, “Igottago, doll. I wish I could take my baby girl with me.”

Chuckling, she’d returned, “Me, too!” After a quick kiss goodbye, he had stepped out of the shower and toweled off while she had finished washing. As she’d applied her conditioner, she had come up with a way for him to take his baby girl everywhere with him. After twenty minutes of arguing with herself about how risky and irresponsible it would be for her to do so, she’d convinced herself to loosen up and snap the photos.

“Three-step! Turn-chinpress!” Watching the students flounder, she threw her hands up in the air, and called over the music with alaugh, “Take a break, people! It’s lunch time! Be back in an hour.”

________

“I don’t know but I’ve been told!” the military style cadence of Mount Vernon’s football team could be heard as the young men ran laps around the school grounds.

“I don’t know but I’ve been told!”

“West Potomac’s teamain’tgot no soul!” Negan called, digging at their rivals for Friday’s first game of the season.

“West Potomac’s teamain’tgot no soul!” the boys returned, their words in sync with the pace of their jog.

Principal Grimes was walking toward the administrative wing of the high school when he heard, then spied the football team rounding the corner of the building and running in his direction. He smiled at words to the rhythmic military call and response Negan was leading. The boys sounded great, and the picture of the coach leading his team in their drill was impressive. Rick decided to talk to him about leading his team onto the field on Friday night, in the same manner.

“They get no puss* and got no class!”

“They get no puss* and got no class!”

“They canf*ckingkiss my ass!” Negan yelled. Positioning his hand so his boys wouldn’t see him, he saluted Rick with his middle finger as he ran by, while the students gave the head of the school a typical, respectful salute.

“They canf*ckingkiss my ass!”

Shaking his head, Principal Grimes decided against suggesting the football team perform the colorful drill on the field at Fridays’ game. He didn’t know how Negan got away with dropping the f-bomb on his students. The football coach had assured him his players weren’t puss*es, and pleased to part of their private, cursing fraternity, they kept what went on at practice to themselves. Their coach had warned them, if any of their parents showed up to give him grief, their fun would be over, and they’d all be emulating the f*cking boys' choir at Saint Mary’s down the street. Since the head administrator hadn’t had any complaints about it, he was content to let the coach do his foul-mouthed thing.

_________

"What else, Gigi?”

Negan’s words had been playing over and over in her head all morning,another distraction for her. She wondered if other men and women felt the sameinflated sense of gratitude shefelt when their partner took the time to ask whatwould make them happy. It had been such a simple gesture, probably insignificant to him, but it meant the world to her.

“You should never f*cking hesitate to tell me what you want,” he’d insisted. If he had never issued the mandate, she would have been perfectly happy to go with the flow. Almost everything about her intimate moments with Negan was new and exciting for her, and she honestly wouldn’t have thought to ask him for anything specific. Sure, she could tell him she wanted to make love to him, or cry out, “That spot, Negan!” while in the throes of passion, but the idea of telling him specific or new things she wanted him to do to her was a thrilling prospect for her.

With her husband, she’d had to call all the shots, but yet when she had tried to branch out to try something new, he always had one of two responses. He had either been insulted she was implying his standard moves weren’t good enough, or he’d made her feel as if her ideas were too wild or vulgar.

The idea of telling Negan what she needed in any given moment, and sharing new things she wanted to try, without shame, was exciting but also daunting. She was a woman with many desires, but she wouldn’t have been brave enough to voice them until he had asked her, outright, on the dock. While she pondered whether she would be brave enough to tell him her secret desires without prompting, another idea popped into her head, causing her to practically skip to her office to eat her lunch.

_________

Are you really brave enough to do this, Gigi? If you’re going to do it, you have to do it right, or the result will be laughable. Are you sure you can talk the talk? Determined to do her best, she opened her texting app once more to send a message to Negan. She had to reword it a few times, trying to express herself in her own voice. Her lover may enjoy talking like a sailor, but they both knew it would be out of character for her.

She typed:

What else do I want,

you ask? I really

like when you put

your tongue inside

me. Everywhere.

Sending Negan her wish, Gigi shivered with delight when she recalled the feeling of his tongue pushing into her rear end. Suddenly horrified she was being too forward and too pushy, she dropped her phone on her desk in front of her as if it had burned her fingers. She stared at it for several seconds before she bravely picked it up again.

___________

I’ll put my tongue wherever the f*ck you want it, Gigi. He was walking to his office from the football field as he read his dancer’s latest text. She is f*cking feisty today! His phone went off again, and another text popped up on the screen. Mygirl’son a f*cking roll!

11:47 AM Gigi

Your good girl

loved how you

dominated her

last night.

Yes, she did, my good, f*cking submissive girl. Negan’s wheels had been turning non-stop after she had submitted so willingly the night before, trying to plot the best steps to introduce his girl to more of Master Negan’s prurient pleasures.

__________

Gigi felt more confident about her last message. It had been clear from the beginning of their relationship; Negan knew how to foster her submissive side. What she hadn’t known, was she how much she liked playing the role of submissive. She knew she didn’t have personality type or the desire to immerse herself in a submissive lifestyle, but in the bedroom? She loved it. Even though the dynamic had been entirely new to her when she met him, Gigi found it interesting she had fallen into the role as if it was second nature to her. Simply put, she liked being bossed around in bed. She liked being good for him, and for some unknown reason she wouldn’t delve too deeply to try to explain, it made her proud when she pleased him, and it made her heart sing when he rewarded her with affection or praise.

Though they’d only skimmed the surface of dominance and submission, Dom Negan was a major turn on for her and she had literally swooned when he’d asserted his authority more aggressively in response to what had happened with Misha. Swooned and soaked your inner thighs, Gigi. He had always been the dominant partner, sexually, but being dominant and dominating someone were two different things.

She had loved how he’d physically disciplined her forbreaking his newly set rules, never havingdreamed she would get so aroused by awell-placed smack. What had amazed her throughout their playwas theself-control he had exhibited, even while he was frustrated with her,and how he seemed to know she had reached her emotional limit, immediately giving her what she needed to quell her sense of desperation. He reads me so well.

Opening her bag, she pulled out her containers of egg salad and cantaloupe and hurriedly ate a forkful of each inspired again by the memory of him smacking her thigh, then soothing it. She picked up her phone again.

I would like to explore

impact play a bit more.

Explore impact play? I sound like a nun who’s trying to be sexy. Before she could second guess herself, she hastily tapped the send arrow. She was proud of herself as she nibbled on another piece of cantaloupe, then worried he would think she was stalking him. She eyeballed her phone warily where it lay on the desk in front of her, wondering how much she should share with him. You’re going overboard. He’s trying to work, Gigi. Leave him alone.

__________

I’ve got your f*cking impact right here, sweetheart. Negan walked into the building and headed in the direction of his office, wanting nothing more than to lock himself in his office and jerk off with the photos Gigi had sent him. It was a crying f*cking shame Marshall and Hannah’s grandparents weren’t keeping them another few nights. His prissy girl had inspired some sizzling f*cking ideas about how he wanted to fulfill thewish list she was texting him.

__________

She glanced at her phone again as she finished up her lunch, the temptation to send Negan one more message, and share one more piece of herself, too great to resist. Gigi began to type, a wave of pleasure rolling through her core as she contemplated her request, followed by a bit of trepidation. You better think about this one, girl. Are you sure you would really want to make yourself so vulnerable? She sat the phone down again, squinting at it as she considered thequestionshe wanted to send him.

She wasn't quite ready to send her message, knowing full well it was because she wasn’t sure if she was ready to admit to herself, let alone Negan, she wanted to give him every single bit of control over her. She pushed the phone further across the desk’s surface with her fingertips, as if having it too close might influence her ability to make a sound decision about what she should do.

Scraping the last forkful of egg salad out of her container, she chewed it thoughtfully and swallowed, washing it down with some iced green tea she’d doctored with zero-carb, natural sweetener and a squeeze of fresh lemon juice. She side eyed the device casually, trying to pretend she wasn't obsessing about the matter, both excited and ill at ease with the idea.

What if it wasn’t his thing? What if he wasn’t interested? Would her feelings be hurt, even if he turned her down gently? She knew herself well enough to know it was likely she would be hurt. She should wait and think on this a little longer.

You don’t need to send him your every whim, today. He’s going to be sorry he insisted you to tell him what you want.

If she had to think about it so hard, she obviously wasn’t ready for such a big step in their relationship. She and Negan had only been together for a few weeks. They still had so much to learn about each other, she reminded herself. It would be smarter to wait a bit longer before she broached this subject with him. If she waited, then she would be sure she was prepared for a positive or a negative response.

Who are you kidding? You know you want this. Your only worry is about what his response will be. Purposefully sliding her phone back within reach, Gigi hit the button on the side so she could view her unsent message again. Her hesitation gone, she touched the arrow to send it, excitement coursing through her. She was sure she knew what Negan’s response would be, so she didn’t know why she was worrying.

“Aren’t you slick?” A loud voice startled the cheerleading coach, causing her to jump in her seat. Tara and Michonne were coming through her doorway, all smiles as they walked into the office and sat down in the two chairs in front of her desk.

Gigi raised her eyebrows in question as she looked between the two women, waiting for an expansion on the query.

“Slick because you gave us a secret shout out at the Kennedy Center Honors last night!” Michonne clarified.

When Gigi continued to look perplexed, Tara added excitedly, “Telling KellyRipayou liked dreaming about your ‘someday’? You basically talked about finding a man who will bend over backwards to give you the perfect org*sm, and the world was none the wiser!”

Finally putting two and two together the women were referring to their discussion about sex at the back to school party, Gigi smiled, shaking her head as if trying to pull herself out of some deep thoughts. “Sorry, I was thinking about something complex. Yes! Last night,” she floundered. “I couldn’t help myself! The opportunity fell into my lap, and I just couldn’t let it slide by! I thought you ladies might appreciate the reference.” She nodded as if confirming her comments about “someday” were a secret message for her work buddies. “Soyou were watching?”

__________

11:59 AM Gigi

Do you think you

would enjoy

tying me up?

Negan stopped in his tracks, twenty feet from his office door, his head lolling on his neck and his eyes fluttering shut in response to the provocative question in his girl’s latest text. f*ck me hard. He had been positively f*cking elated when she had started sending him entries from her sexy honey-do list, but her last two messages had him reeling, in the best f*cking way. Thank God it was lunch time, because for all intents and purposes she had rendered him no good, no more. He was going to have a hell of a time getting through the second half of football practice now that he was distracted as f*ck, trying to formulate exactly how Gigi’s someday was going to start catering to every one of her heart’s hot little desires.

Step one, he knew, needed to involve making sure he had his girl all to himself for the evening. He could hear the sound of Michonne and Tara’s laughter in Gigi’s office, as he headed into his own. Sitting down at his computer, he pulled up the registration forms for the students on his team, searching for the name Marshall Mason. Opening the document, he scanned it quickly,grinningwhen he found what he was looking for under the boy’s emergency contacts.

___________

“We had a wonderful time,” Gigi was answering her new friends’ questions about her evening with Misha, filling them in on the extravagant gala. It was hard to talk about the evening, without all of the emotion which had played out after the event, coming to mind.

“What’s Liza Minelli like?” Michonne wondered. “I can’t tell if she’s down to earth or the biggest diva in the world.”

“Honestly? She’s a little of both …" the cheerleading coach’s response was interrupted when Negan strode into her office, his cell phone at his ear. Using two fingers he immediately motioned for Tara and Michonne to leave. The three women glanced at each other, their curiosity and indignance evident on their faces.

“Good luck!” Tara whispered to Gigi in support as she left, assuming the department head was kicking them out so he could discuss something serious with Coach Sokolov.

The football coach hummed in agreement with something said on the other end of the line, stepping back into the hallway to be sure the women were heading down the hall. He closed the office door, then made himself comfortable on the love seat next to Gigi’s desk, crossing one ankle over the other thigh and stretching his free arm across the back of the piece of furniture. He listened intently to the person on the other end of the phone, nodding his head a few times and humming in agreement.

“Of course, I’d love to join the family for dinner one night, Estelle!” Negan declared exuberantly, enjoying the shocked look on Gigi’s face when he called her mother by name. He continued, “As long as you promise to make me some of your homemade croissants. I heard they’re amazing!” He listened intently for a few seconds before affirming, “She did tell me that. No, I didn’t know that.” He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I really appreciate you keeping the kids for a few more nights, Estelle … Oh, I have some great plans. Yes … Yes.”

Keeping eye contact with Gigi, he spoke into the phone, “I’ll have her tied up with a few different things I think she’ll really enjoy.” He ran is tongue between his teeth, and he grinned at his girl before he wrapped up his conversation with her mother. “I better run, doll. I need to speak with your daughter for a minute before I head back out to practice. I’ll let Marshall know Jacques will pick him up at two o’clock. Au revoir!” Placing his thumb on his phone’s screen, he ended the call.

Oh, my. Oh. My. Gigi’s heart began to pound the second Negan’s play on words was spoken. She remained silent, searching his eyes as he studied her in return.

“As you heard, I’ve asked your mom and dad to keep the kids for a few more nights. I want more time to play with you,” he explained lowly, cognizant of the fact students or staff could be wandering the hall outside the office. “I read your list,” he advised her. “Ilove every f*cking thing on it.”

His tone changing to one more business like he explained, “I wouldn’t normally start this discussion here at work, Gigi, but there are some things you need to think about this afternoon, because we’ll need to talk about them tonight. I’m gonna dive right in, since our time is limited. You want me to tie you up? I’ll tie your tight little ass up, sweetheart. But we need to talk about exactly what you expect to happen if I agree to bondage play with you. I’ll need you to tell me what you think your limits are, since I’m sure you don’t really know at this point.”

Gigi hung on Negan’s every word, wondering if she was in over her head. She hadn’t thought about whether he did or didn’t already have experience with her list of wants, but it was clear he did. While she had spent some time reading about dom-sub relationships and bondage out of curiosity, her vision of it was likely very different from Negan’s experience with it. She had assumed he would simply tie her to the bedposts and have his way with her. He was referencing bondage in the true sense of the term, and the hard and soft limits she had read about, as if they were second nature to him. She internally shivered at the prospect.

“Do you want me to simply tie your hands, or were you thinking of something more complex, where you are totally immobilized? I also need you to think about your definition of impact play.” Negan took note of her demeanor as he gave her examples to consider. “Do you want me to use my hand, or are you picturinga paddleor acrop?”

A crop? Oh, my. A picture of him with a riding crop in his hand flashed through Gigi’s mind. If he used something like a crop, how hard would he hit her? Where would he hit her? He was right; she did have a lot to think about.

She was surprised but not shocked, nothing on her list of desires was new or strange to him. He was downright comfortable with it all, and obviously well versed in their nuances. She found the very idea of him introducing her to a whole new world, titillating.

Negan couldn’t help but chuckle softly at Gigi’s expression, which was an amusing mix of bewildered and intrigued. He had been correct in assuming her interests were based on a beginner’s guide to kink she’d read online. If mild was what she wanted, mild was what she would get, but he was peppering the discussion with heavier terminology in the hopes he could entice her to step into another world with him.

“You also need to think about how much control you’re willing to give up, Tiny Dancer,” his tone softened a bit. “We can keep things light, with some simple bondage. I couldcallall the shots, maybe introducing you to some things you’ve never tried before.

“We could also take things a step further, where you’d give me full control. Of everything . Of you. Of what we do and don’t do. I would set our pace, and ultimately be in charge of your limits. I would be the one to decide if you get to take the steps you think you are ready to take. And I would push you to the limits I impose, in the best f*cking way, Gigi. I would be responsible for you, one hundred percent, which means I would make sure you are safe and cared for during our play. I would be responsible for your pleasure and your pain. You would be responsible for following my orders, making me happy, and letting me know if you are uncomfortable in any way.

“We can stay in the shallow end, or we can play in the deep end, Gigi. Do you understand the difference between the two possibilities?”

His best girl pleased the f*ck out of him when she affirmed very seriously, “I completely understand the difference.”

Negan knew he was throwing a lot at her, but he also knew she could handle it, and he wanted her to have ample time to make sound decisions, not make them on the spur of the moment when they came back together later.

She was quiet for a moment, but her eyes never left his as she contemplated what he’d told her. “I understand what you are asking me to consider, and I know you are asking me to decide what I want and need, Negan, but can I ask you a question? And ask you to give me an honest answer?”

"I’ve only ever been completely f*cking honest with you, Gigi,” he assured her.

“What do you want?” she posed her question. “If you could choose for us, what would you choose?”

“I want it all, Gigi,” he confessed, not needing to expand any further.

She nodded thoughtfully.

“I need to grab a bite to eat and get back out to the field,” Negan informed her, getting up from the love seat. Taking in the fatigue written all over her, he ordered, “I can tell you’re exhausted since you didn’t get any sleep. I want you to cut out of here with the rest of the staff at two o’clock today, Gigi. No staying til four. I want you to go home and take a long nap and eat a decent f*cking meal for a change. You’re going to need your energy tonight, for whatever we decide to do.”

“Yes, sir,” she teased in return, winking at him.

“Don’t give me another f*cking hard on, Gigi,” he warned her, turning to walk out the door. “I’ll be over at eight.”

Chapter 28: Cat and Mouse

Chapter Text

Negan rushed out of the gymnasium, the other players from his basketball team on his heels. Practice had run late, thanks to the asshole who had mouthed off to the Coach and cost the team extra laps, so he would need to rush to get to Professor Strathmore’s house on time.

“Hey, Negan!” Donny Samuels, the Terp’s point guard, called to him from behind. “You going to Jeannie’s party tonight?"

“Nah!” he called back over his shoulder. “I have tutoring tonight with Professor Strath."

“It’s your birthday, man!” Donny chided him, finally catching up to walk beside him. “What the f*ck?”

“What can I say, man? I f*ckin’ suck at College Algebra and I need to keep my scholarship.”

“What about after?” his buddy pressed him. Negan was his beer pong partner, and he didn’t stand a chance of winning without him. “You won’t be there all night!”

Negan knew he’d probably be wrung the out after his session with the woman, so even though he would love to go to the party, he’d probably end up passing out for the night. Knowing Donny wouldn’t take no for an answer, he placated him with a lie, slapping him on the back. "I’ll try, man. I have a lot to learn tonight, but I’ll try to get my ass overto Jeannie's by midnight.” The partywould be in full swing by midnight, and he had no doubt Donny would be too trashed to remember to look for his drinking buddy in the crowd.

“I gotta run, Don.” Shifting thetextbooks under his arm so he’d have a better grip on them, he started to jog toward the south side of campus. The house was half a mile from the university and if he kept up his pace he would get there exactly on time, he told himself after glancing at his watch.

By the time Negan reached his Algebra professor’s house, a fresh layer of perspiration lay on top of the one he’d acquired during basketball practice. He’d made it on time , though , which was all that mattered. Ringing the bell , he smiled when the door opened to reveal his professor. She was dressed in a leather pencil skirt and a black long-sleeve blouse which buttoned up the front. The top two buttons were undone, giving him a view of the ample cleavage peeking out of the top of her bustier. Black stilettos graced her feet.

Rene Strathmore was more than twice Negan’s age. She was what his mother would call “a handsome woman”, not beautiful, but attractive and well-manicured. She exuded confidence and oozed authority, something her student had noticed the first day he had laid eyes on her in lecture hall. He was utterly smitten with her.

“Right on time.” She quirked an eyebrow at him, letting him know he had cut it close in arriving thirty seconds before the hour. Stepping aside, she made room for Negan to enter her home, then closed the door behind him. Walking by him as he kicked off his shoes to leave them in the foyer as she expected, she ran her hand along his stomach as she passed him, patting it affectionately on her way down the hall. Negan loved when she patted his stomach. Or his ass. Or ran her fingers through his hair. He would never begin to know how to tell her how much he loved every little show of affection she gave him. Luckily, he found he didn’t need to. She knew, because she could read him like a f*cking book.

“There’s a plate in the kitchen for you,” she informed him. “It’s your favorite. Meatloaf.” He had been coming to her place long enough for her to know when he arrived at ten of thehour, it meant he’d had time to eat and shower. If he arrived any later, he was coming straight from the gym, which meant he was hungry and smelled like a locker room . “And there is a fresh towel and washcloth on the bathroom counter for you. Use the blue bottle of shampoo. I like the way it smells on you. I’ll be in my study if you need anything. Otherwise I’ll meet you in the playroom in thirty minutes.”

“Yes, Mistress Rene,” he responded, calling her by the name she insisted on during their Friday night scenes. His Wednesday visits were for tutoring. Fridays were normally for tutoring and then play. Tonight, however, was an exception. There would be no academics. “Thank you.”

Turning around, she took the few steps back to him, an affectionate smile playing at her lips and in her eyes. “Aren’t you my sweet boy?” she praised him, caressing his cheek with her fingertips. Leaning into her touch, Negan’s eyes drifted shut as he enjoyed the welcome sensation. After running her thumb over his lips, Mistress Rene headed back down the hall to finish logging her students’ quizzes in her grade book before she headed upstairs to play with him.

________

Her boy had come a long way since she’d first met him, Rene reflected as she undressed while he took a shower, removing her skirt and blouse and revealing the bustier and black lace panties underneath. She was also wearing a lace garter and black stockings, fastened halfway up her thigh because Negan had requested she wear them. He was getting his wish tonight because it was his birthday, and she had let him choose her wardrobe for their scene.

The professor had noticed him at the start of the semester. He was a tall, exceptionally cool drink of water with thick, dark brown hair, heavy eyebrows, full lips and beautiful hazel eyes which changed from brown to a mix of caramel and green, depending on the light. It had become clear very quickly he had no interest inalgebra, buthad quite a bit of interest in his professor. His eyes followedher everywhere, focused solely on her, even when they should have been focused on what she was writing, or pointing out on the projection screen.

Rene had waited and watched, trying to get a sense of what made the young man tick. He was a charming little asshole, a braggart and a bit of a bully. One minute he talked with his buddies about his endless partying and beer pong victories, and the next minute he was charming the panties off one of the girls in the class. His charms weren't only reserved for the ladies, though. When he wasn't needling his buddies, playing on their weaknesses with his sarcastic verbal assaults, he was feeding their egos. It was a pattern he repeated over and over, pushing them away with his razor-sharp tongue, then right before they reached their breaking point, he would reel them back in with compliments and seemingly genuine praise. She found him fascinating.

The lecture hall used for Professor Strathmore's class was empty for an hour after College Algebra 111 ended, and as she did every semester, she had encouraged any interested students to stay after class for study group, where they could get more individualized help when they needed it. Negan was one of the twenty or so students who'd remained for the first study session. He’d never picked up his pencil, instead spending the hour watching her circle the room, tutoring the other students.

At the end of his second unproductive study group session, the professor had asked him to remain in his seat so she could talk to him without the other students overhearing. "Why are you here Negan?" she'd asked him point blank, after the room emptied.

"Isn't that a little obvious?" was his flippant response. "I have a D in the class, and I need to bring it up .”

Rene had dealt withother students like Negan over the course of her teaching career and she’d known just how to handle him. Approaching his desk, she’d kept just enough distance to be considered respectful.Subtly straightening her spine and squaring her shoulders, she had looked down her nose at him, effectively putting him in a position of weakness and herself in the position of power. "Cut the crap ," she’d admonished in a calm but assertive tone. "Let me ask you again. Why are you here, Negan?"

Not used to being patronized, his eyes had belied his co*cky attitude for a millisecond, even as he'd held her gaze. “Maybe I like looking at those nice legs of yours.” Having been called out, he’d reached for one of his defense mechanisms, and turned on the charm.

Quirking one eyebrow at him, she had stopped him in his horny little tracks. “Uh, uh. You’re not speaking to one of your sorority conquests, Negan. You need to show me the respect I deserve,” she demanded serenely. Neither her eyes nor her body had moved a muscle while she waited for his response, even when he’d leaned forward in his seat to push himself into her personal space.

When she rejected his attempted charm, her student had then employed his sharp tongue, hoping to cut her down. “Maybe I was hoping your teaching was better one on one than it is in lecture hall.”

She had pursed her lips, successfully hiding the smile which was itching to show itself. “Your behavior is disappointing, little boy,” she chastised him, satisfied when he'd failed to hide his shock at her response. “Since you can’t manage to converse with me respectfully, like an adult, I’m going to do all the talking and you will sit quietly and listen.”

“Whatever."

She had ignored his back talk, wanting to get to her point. “You are a smart young man, Negan, but your intelligence hasn’t been reflected in your work here in my classroom.” The Professor laid the paper she’d been holding in her hand on the desk in front of him, her index finger tapping on the big, red, letter “F” written on the top of his latest quiz.

He sat back in his seat, glaring at her for several seconds before he had finally broken eye contact and focused instead on playing with his pencil on his desk top, his chin moving forward and back as he ground his teeth together. He’d done the same thing while taking his first two quizzes of the semester. After only a few minutes of writing, he had started to rub his jaw with his fingers, trying to massage the pain and tension out.

“I chatted with some of your other professors, Negan, and I did some nosing around in your records, and your poor performance isn’t limited to my class. I find it interesting my colleagues can see your potential as well as I do. None of us can understand why you aren’t living up to it.”

“What the hell, lady? Why are you checkin’ up on me? You’ve got no right!” He’d fumed at the idea she and his other professors had been discussing his failures. His anger was apparent, but she had also recognized the embarrassment behind his bravado. Bingo. He did care about his grades. He also cared about what others thought of him, though he tried to pretend otherwise.

Her student was practically bursting with barely checked emotions, and Rene had watched him fight them for several seconds before he finally exploded, slamming the point of his pencil into his desk with his fist and breaking the implement in half. Jumping up from his seat, he’d hastily grabbed his folder and book, ready to bolt for the door. Taking a half step to her right, she had blocked his path. The boy would have needed to charge through her to access the aisle to the front of the room, or leap over the row of seats in front of him.

“I'mouttahere ,” he’d insisted, taking a step closer to her in the hopes she’d move out of his way. His eyes had been wild, his breathing heavy, but she’d had no fear he would hurt her.

“There's a reason why you’re struggling with your schoolwork, Negan and it’s not due to a lack of intelligence. Despite what you’ve been told,” she’d guessed. The boy had squinted at her, co*cking his head to one side as he studied her, silently begging her for an explanation which would make her assertion true. Displaying no pity or judgement, she had kept her tone even when she assured him, “You are co*cky, and perhaps a bit lazy, but there’s no doubt you are sharp as a whip.”

She’d stepped aside, opening his path, giving him the option of staying or going once he heard what she had to say. “You’ve always struggled in school, haven’t you? I think you have a learning disorder, Negan, called dyscalculia.” Pausing for several seconds, she let the tidbit of information sink in before she had continued, “I’ve seen some patterns when you show your work for your algebra problems, which suggests it. I also looked over your latest English essay for Professor Graber, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t have a mild form of dyslexia as well.”

“The thing where people mix up letters and words?” His eyes had flitted around the room as he tried to process her diagnosis. It was clear she’d struck a chord with him, his gaze slowly shifting back to meet hers.

“Yes. And in some people, there is a similar condition which affects the ability to do math. I want to help you, Negan, if you’ll let me?” She had nodded at him, dictating the answer she wanted to receive in return. After a moment of thought, he’d copied her nod. A warm smile and another nod, this time in approval, had been her subtle reward for his compliance.

“I gotta go,” Negan had insisted abruptly, needing time to process the information she’d provided.

“Meet me in my office on Monday at ten o’clock,” the professor had commanded. I want you to do some testing, so I know how to guide you.”

__________

Doctor Rene Strathmore was a well-respected, tenured professor at the University of Maryland. She also was a well-respected dominatrix within the subculture of BDSM in the tri-state area, with clients who drove for hours for the privilege of submitting to her. The two hundred and fifty dollar per hour fee she charged allowed her to pick and choose a select few, high caliber clients to work with a few nights per week. The money helped to supplement her income, since her bastard of an ex-husband had fought her for alimony and custody of her beloved basset hound when they had divorced ten years prior. He had won the alimony in arbitration. She had won the house, and custody of herdog, Benny. The monthly stipend she’d been ordered to give her ex was a small price to pay to keep him out of her hair.

The professor had confirmed her suspicions about Negan’s learning disabilities through testing, and had offered to tutor him to help him catch up in his classes so he could bring up his GPA by the end of the semester.

“I appreciate the offer, ProfessorStrath,” Negan had declined, “but I don’t have the money to pay for tutoring.”

Knowing his pride wouldn’t allow him to accept charity she’d countered, “How are you with yard work and painting?”

He had broken into a grin, quipping, “You like flat, satin, or semi-gloss?”

It had been the start of a life-changing relationship for both of them.

__________

Negan wolfed down his meatloaf, rinsed his plate and fork and put them in the dishwasher as he’d been taught, and then jogged up the stairs to the second floor. He brushed his teeth with the toothbrush and toothpaste she kept in the bathroom for him, and took a shower in record time, using the soap and one of the shampoos Mistress Rene had reserved for only her boy to use. He dried off after he was finished, putting the towel in the hamper in the corner of the room, and tucking the two toiletries he’d used back in the linen closet. As always, he experienced a surge of pride over the fact there were no other men’s products in the closet. Only his. Because he was special. He was the only one of the Mistress’s subs who had ever had the privilege of eating and showering at her house. He was also the only student she had ever been involved with, period. She had made the fact very clear to him from the start.

Submissive. He hated the f*cking word, but if being labeled a sub meant they could continue with their sessions in her playroom, he would wear a f*cking sticker on his chest which read, “Hello, I’m Mistress Rene’s bitch!” The woman had introduced him to a whole new f*cking world. One he had been enamored of from the moment he’d stepped foot into it.

When his professor had offered to tutor him, he’d been grateful. The feeling was novel for him, since he’d had little to be grateful for in his life. They'd started meeting two nights a week, his tutor working with him on both math and English. She’d quickly discerned the differences in the way his brain incorrectly organized letters and numbers and taught him how to correct the problem. She also worked to catch him up on years of basic spelling, grammar and calculating which were lacking as a result of his disabilities.

Negan had learned very quickly, his professor insisted he respect her and the time and effort she was putting in to tutoring him. “Don’t waste my time," she’d demanded at their first session. “I expect nothing less than your best.”

She’d had to remind him of her expectations at their third session. The professor had introduced a new math concept to him, writing it in steps on the notebook paper in front of him on the dining room table before she’d gotten up to stretch her legs. Too proud to admit he didn’t understand what she’d explained, he had struggled with calculating the answer for several minutes as she watched over his shoulder. "Goddamn f*cking problem!” he’d finally cursed, dropping his pencil on the table and slapping his hands on its surface.

His tutor had shocked him when her hand shot out and popped him in the mouth. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to startle him. His frustration with the math problem had been instantly forgotten, replaced by a very pleasant sensation in his chest and groin which had surged with her physical discipline. Professor Strathmore immediately wrapped one arm around his chest as she stood behind him, patting it gently with her fingers. The offending hand had moved to his mouth, soothing his lips with her thumb as she questioned him, “What did I tell you about respect, Negan?”

Shocked, he had stared at the table’s inlaid wood surface for a few seconds before he acknowledged, “That I need to give you the respect you deserve.” Speaking softly against her skin, he enjoyed the feel of its silkiness against his lips. He had found the mix of guilt and pleasure he was experiencing, disconcerting. As tempted as he was to take her thumb into his mouth to tease it with his tongue, he wouldn’t do it. He had known he wasn’t the one in charge in their dynamic, and for some reason unknown to him, he was okay with the fact.

Rene had been able to read his guilt over his use of inappropriate language. She’d also heard his breathy little gasp when she’d popped him, and had seen the physical wave of pleasure which had traveled down his spine. The longer her thumb had remained on his lips, the faster his heart had beaten in his chest. “When you disrespect an authority figure, what do you do to make it better?” she prodded him.

Negan had recovered from his shock quickly, dragging his gaze away from the tabletop and turning his head slowly to look up at her, not wanting to move so quickly as to cause her soothing thumb to leave his lips. There had been no anger in her tone, but her one raised eyebrow had made her expectations clear. He had never been good with apologies, but he found himself wanting her stern look to go away. He needed her to smile at him again, the way she did when she was proud of his work or his good manners. She had never failed to notice his smallest accomplishments, and he loved her for it, even if he had felt like a puss* for wanting her approval.

“I’m sorry for being disrespectful. It won’t happen again,” he’d promised. “Well, I’ll try my best to make sure it doesn’t happen again, Professor Strathmore.” He grinned at her , hoping his charm would work in his favor.

“That’s all I can ask, Negan. Is for you to try your best,” she’d accepted. “But now you know what the consequence will be if you slip up.” She had carded the fingers of one hand through his hair on the back of his head as she leaned over his paper on the table, circling a few of his calculations to show him where he’d gone wrong. “Instead of struggling with something, you need to communicate with me. Just tell me, and we’ll work on the problem together.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he’d responded, nodding. He’d do anything she f*cking asked of him if it meant she’d keep touching him so gently. He was pleased as f*ck with himself when she’d responded to his added show of manners with a huge smile.

“Good boy. Now get back to work.”

___________

“Professor Strath ?” he had asked her an hour later, as they finished their tutoring session.

“Yes, Negan?”

“I don’t mean any disrespect, but do you pop all your students like that when they’re mouthy?”

Rene had looked up from the papers she was grading on the other side of the table. Taking in his grin, she’d returned it, admitting, “No, Negan. Just you. You’re special.”

His smile had widened at her response. Wrinkling his nose at her, he had given her an exaggerated shiver of excitement. “Nice!” Gathering his book and folder, he’d gotten up from the table and made his way to the front door, where he slipped back into his shoes. Walking back down the hall to peek back into the dining room, he had questioned her, full of confidence, “What kind of disrespect would it take for you to hit me harder?”

Rolling his tongue between his front teeth and wagging his eyebrows at her, he had been obviously pleased with himself for asking such a bold question. The professor had taken great pleasure in watching his reaction when she dead panned, “It would be much more fun if you simply asked me nicely, Negan.” Getting up from the table, she had picked up her papers and walked around the table to approach him. Stopping in front of him, she’d suggested, “A simple please and thank you would go much further than any type of disrespect.” She had known it wouldn’t be the last time he would broach the subject with her.

Andsoit had begun.

___________

Professor Strathmore was worldly, intelligent and witty. She was also nurturing and kind, and generous with her time, genuinely interested in both Negan’s welfare and his academic success. He found her sophisticated sensuality and her commanding presence intoxicating. He had never been so enamored of a woman in all his twenty-one years.

Mistress Rene was also nurturing, and genuinely interested in Negan’s welfare and his success. She took good care of her boy, bringing him to heights he would have never imagined. In turn, he lived to please her. TheDommehad introduced her favorite student to a world he would have never thought to enter, a world which would normally have only been accessible through magazines which were sealed in plastic so curious college students couldn’t look without buying, and VHS p*rn movies he and his buddies would rent on the sly at the triple x video store a few blocks from campus. His Mistress’s world was uninhibited, and shameless in the best sense of the word.

From the time Negan had been old enough to form relationships outside his home, he had surrounded himself with those willing to be his second, those willing to take his orders and live by the rules heset to ensure his own comfort and happiness. He had been the leader in every neighborhood group he deemed worthy of his time, from the boys who hung out on the corner looking for trouble, to the teens who played basketball at the park on Friday evenings. He led, and people followed. It was the only way he rolled. The few times another neighborhood kid had tried to challenge him, the Mighty Negan would stub out their fervor in a matter of seconds with the toe of his shoe, his followers at the ready to back him up, ifnecessary. It had never been necessary.

For the first time in the alpha’s history, he let someone else take charge. He let someone else dictate the rules he needed to abide by. For the first time in his short sexual history, he had been willing to let down his guard and admit he was out of his depth and needed guidance.

Mistress Rene was the perfect dominant for the first time submissive who was infatuated with the idea of pleasurable pain . Negan had no interest in being humiliated or tortured. As luck would have it, along with control, the dominatrix got off on giving her subs pleasure, through whatever secret kink they harbored.

Weeks before Rene and Negan had played out their first scene, there had been extensive discussions as to what a dominant-submissive dynamic would mean for each of them. TheDommehad tutored him on the type of dynamic she insisted on, the rules he would need to follow. She had explained everything he needed to know if he was interested in moving forward with her. She had helped him define his limits, and instructed him about hers.

She had schooled him on the importance of communication and honesty. From the start, it was clear her boy wasn’t good with words. His eyes were the window to his soul, however. His posture, his brow and his jawline also spoke volumes to her.

Smartly, Rene had introduced him to the playroom on the second floor of her home, long before they ever engaged in a scene. She’d wanted to feel him out, to get a sense of what might be appealing to him and what might be turn offs for him. Whereas most novices would be overwhelmed by the highly charged, sexual look and atmosphere of the room, she’d found Negan to be curious. He had also been definitive about his desires and his hard limits without speaking a word. Standing at the doorway, she had watched him closely as he’d made his way around the room. He chose to make his way to her custom-made wall cabinet first, which displayed impact tools, lined up in neat rows. Moving from one end to the other, he’d reached out to touch the ones which piqued his interest, picking up a few to test their weight, striking the skin of his opposite palm to get a sense of what they would feel like. He’d liked the feel of the flogger, nodding to himself as he’d put it back and then picked it up again to try a harder hit. His other favorite had been the riding crop, which he’d carried with him as he’d perused the rest of the room.

Negan may have been a novice, but he was no dummy. He’d made his fascination with the impact toys clear first, because the thought of the woman across the room using them on his body made his dick rock hard. He’d then made his way around to the different pieces of furniture, dismissing all but a few of them, in his mind, before he made his way to the large wooden X attached to the far wall. He'd run his fingers along its smooth surface, toyed with the padded restraints attached at the top and bottom, and had chuckled at the brilliance of the mechanism behind each cuff which allowed for sliding them up or down on the frame to accommodate people of different heights.

In less than ten minutes, Mistress Rene’s boy had made it clear to her impact play was highest on his list of interests. He had also shown her which tools he wanted her to use on him. He had made it abundantly clear he would not bend over for her, instead fixating on the Saint Andrew’s cross and the metal restraints hanging from the ceiling. He had subtly shaken his head at the spanking bench, had refused to acknowledge her strap on belts and dild*s, but had studied the smaller of the textured and curved butt plugs, meant to massage the prostate. He’d just about ground the enamel off his molars while studying the padded leather table at the far end of the room, after realizing a person would have to lay on it with their knees pulled to their chest, legs fastened to the piece of furniture with leather straps to spread them wide open. She couldn’t help but grin to herself when with a scowl, he had lightly smacked one of the offensive straps with the back of his hand, dismissing it before he’d turned to walk away. Finished with his exploration, he had made his way back to where she’d stood at the door.

“You and I have a lot in common, Negan,” she’d confessed with a warm smile after eyeing the crop, still in his hand. The student had studied her expression, looking for some sort of affirmation he was ready to take the next step with her, knowing she would be the one to decide. “But I think this might be a little too much to start with.” She’d held out her hand, waiting for him to place the crop in it. He had done so without pause, gently placing it in the palm of her hand. It had been a symbolic gesture, with which he’d told her he trusted her knowledge and her judgment. It was the moment he’d told her, without words, he was ready to give her control.

________

Knowing the welts on his back were too sensitive to be touched, Rene stood behind him at the cross, splaying the fingers of one hand on his stomach to caress it gently, while placing a few soothing kisses on the back of his neck.

“How’s my sweet boy?” she prodded him for the second time. The first time he’d answered the question it had been with a groan and a mumble. He was deep in subspace, his endorphins and epinephrine in such abundance he was almost incoherent. Almost. If she couldn’t bring him back down to earth a bit, she would need to safe word for him, because she knew he wouldn’t be able to do it himself, unable to process whether the level of pain he was experiencing was too much for him to physically bear.

“’ m fine … ’m fine,” he insisted, lucid enough to know exactly why she was asking, and what she expected of him. If he couldn’t show her and tell her what she wanted, his fun would end. “I’m good, Mistress Rene. f*cking awesome, as a matter of fact,” he mumbled colorfully, because cussing was allowed in the playroom. Thank f*cking God.

His skin had a sheen from the perspiration which had surfaced once her strikes with the riding crop had become hard enough to make him grunt in pain. His forehead rested on the leather pad which hung on the wall behind the V at the top of the X . When Negan moved into subspace, his muscles relaxed, no longer clenching when he heard the sound of her crop whipping through the air, only jerking and trembling after the impact. She admired her marks on his back and buttocks. Her strokes had been hard enough to create beautiful, raised, red welts, but not hard enough to draw blood. Rene took a moment to nibble on the back of his shoulder as she pushed his hair off his forehead and wiped the perspiration from his brow .

“Only fifteen more,” he reminded her in a breathy murmur. He finally turned his head, his eyes fluttering open to gaze at her as she mouthed his arm.Godhe loved her. When she only hummed in response, he pressed her, his words running together like those of a drunk. "Can you please give me fifteen more, Mistress ? ”

“Look at you, using your manners like a good boy,” she praised against his skin, reaching down to lightly stroke his co*ck .

His entire body quivered at her touch and he moaned at the heightened sensation, but even the prospect of a mind-numbing org*sm wouldn’t deter his desire to play out the rest of the scene. The scene he’d chosen as his twenty-first birthday gift.

“Pretty, pretty pleasewith cherries on top ?” he practically giggled at his own silliness; his eyes drifting shut again while he tried to stave off his impending org*sm .

“If only my co*cky, machoboy could hearhis goofinesswhen he comes back down to earth,” Rene thought to herself. He was on the edge of going too deep, but she knew her sub well, and he wasn’t close enough to fall over. If she was efficient, he would make it through fifteen more , safely and happily . Stepping back from him , she took up her stance once more, rolling the handle of the crop in her palm to get the right grip on it. “They’re going to come fast and furious , Negan,” she prepared him. “I’ll count them for you this time .”

“N’kay ”

Her boy shifted himself within his confines, trembling in anticipation of beingpushed further into his happy place once she got started again . His stunning physique took his domme ’s breath away, and she took a moment to admire every inch of him, from head to toe.

“One!” His mistress started, the first hit the most intense of those to come. “Two! Three! Four!” She read him well, her empathy allowing her to skate on the surface of his arousal, his emotions and his pain, experiencing them with him. It was one of the most enjoyable parts of being a good dominant, and because she and Negan synced so well, she felt as if she experienced both sides of each scene.It was an incredible high.

As she continued to count, instead of increasing the intensity of the impacts as she normally would, she subtly decreased it, knowing it was what he would need in order to reach his goal. She wanted him to meet the minimum he’d set for himself, her type A boy, but only if he could do it safely. She scrutinized each flinch carefully and paid close attention to the sound of his grunts as they turned to whimpers. His whimpers thrilled her like little else ever had, but she would never let her pleasure outweigh what was best for him. Each strike of the crop magnified her arousal, the knowledge he was going to meet his goal and earn his reward, thrilling. “Twelve! Thirteen!” Negan’s grunts and whimpers turned to guttural sobs as she lashed out the final handful of times. “Fourteen! Fifteen!”

Dropping her riding crop on the floorand pressing herself to his side, she spoke to him in a soothing tone , turning his beautiful face toward her so she could take in the effect she’d had on him.He was completely relaxed, in a trance like state, his eyes closed as he floated. It was gloriously gratifying to know she’d made him so wonderfully high, sending him to themost pleasurable place a person would ever want to visit.

“Such a good boy for me, Negan,” she praised him. “You did it. I knew you could!” Fulfilling another of his birthday wishes, she ran her palm and fingers over the head of his dripping co*ck, spreading his moisture over it. Then wrapping her wet hand around him, she stroked him towards a quick climax.

The minute she touched him, Negan came back to life, his head whipping up from its resting spot against the wall. Taking a deep breath, he tilted his head back, focused on the juncture of the wall and ceiling, giving himself completely over to what was happening between his thighs. His hips canted. He grunted, and swore, all while praising his Mistress, thanking her for satisfying him so completely. “f*ck! So f*cking good! Thank you, Mistress. f*ck, f*ck!” he shouted as he climaxed with an intensity which made his back arch. It was as if someone had shoved him upward from behind, the force pushing him onto the balls of his feet, his knees slamming into the wood in front of him. His shoulders jerked backwards as far as they could move with his wrists cuffed, his shoulder blades pressing inward,trying to meet in the middle of his upper back.

His swearing turned into laughing the moment his org*sm crested, his legs and arms shaking with a ferocity which caused the bolts holding the cross in place, to rattle from the stress. The Dom molded her body to the back of his for support, pressing her fingers to the pulse point on his neck to check his heart rate, taking care of her sub when she wanted nothing more than to spread her feet apart on the floor, slip her fingers behind the lace of her panties and bring herself to org*sm while she enjoyed the sight and feel of him. Her turn would come later in the evening, when they moved into the bedroom for more fun. This moment was about her birthday boy.

“My beautiful … my amazing … met the goal you set!” Negan could hear her words filtering through to him each time the sound of the blood surging in his brain ebbed after a rush. “… so proud!” Trying to pull himself out of his head to respond to her, he only managed to hum at her, his mouth struggling to push out words, unsuccessful in its attempt to speak.

It wouldn’t take him long, though, and Rene knew he was focusing on how to land himself, as he had been taught, when he started regulating his own breathing in order to ease himself back into reality.

True to form, the alpha in Negan was much stronger than the submissive, and he fought to regain control of himself and the situation, not wanting to be coddled for long . Opening his eyes, he gazed at his Dom affectionately. The corners of his mouth curling into a tiny smile, he murmured, “Best f*cking birthday, ever."

__________

Negan thought of Rene Strathmore often, and he was profoundly grateful to her. She had tutored him through the rest of his junior and senior years, and was the reason why the coach had graduated with a 3.2 grade point average and went on to received his master’s degree in Education. She was the reason why he was able to do the job he loved every day.

He and Rene had continued to scene together until shortly after his and Lucille’s friendship had turned to romance in his senior year, when he had reluctantly broken things off with the womanin an attempt tobe faithful to his girlfriend. As appealing as the BDSM world had been to him, Negan hadn’t wanted to live in his Mistress’s world. As much as he’d loved Rene, he had known when the time came, he would move on with someone more traditional. He had wanted to get married and have children, things which were no longer of interest to the middle agedDomme. Negan’s bond with his Dominant had been strong, however, and even after he’d ended their relationship, he had found himself on her doorstep more than once, on nights he knew she didn’t scene with clients.

Rene’s door had always been opentohim,ashad been herplayroomand her bed, becauseher boyheld a special place in her heart.She had known from the beginninghe would only be her sub for the short term, so she had made sure to enjoy every minute ofher time with him.Their relationshiphad beenasteppingstoneforher sub, ashortforay intoa new and exciting place.As much asshe knewhehadenjoyed his time there,she had knownhewouldn’t stay.

Shortly after Negan and Lucille had gotten married, a long, rectangular box had arrived at their apartment, addressed to him. “You received a package,” his wife had informed him when he’d arrived home from work one afternoon. “I wonder if it’s a wedding present,” she had pondered as she pushed a box wrapped in brown paper across the kitchen table toward him.

“Oh, yeah? Who’s it from?”He’d hung his leather jacket in the closet and toed off his shoes, glancing up at her

“Don’t know,” she’d responded, frowning as she looked at the label upside down. “Mister somebody.It’s only addressed to you, so I didn’t open it.”

“Mister Somebody?” he had chuckled.“Who the f*ck is MisterSomebody?”

“I don’t know Negan!” she’d returnedwith an exasperated laugh. “It just has the letters M and R in the upperright-handcorner!”

His curiosity getting the best of him, Negan had made his way to the table, pulling the box toward himself as Lucille returned to the stove to plate their dinner. In the upper left-hand corner of the box, written in red ink much like the type used to grade test papers, had been the capital letters M and R. He had recognized the elegant handwriting immediately. Not wanting to open the box in front of his wife, he had feigned disinterest and pushed it aside, telling her he was starving and would worry about opening it later.

Hours later, long after Lucille had gone to bed, Negan had pulled the box out of the corner where he’d tucked it before setting the table for dinner. Removing the brown paper carefully, he had found a present underneath wrapped in elegant silver and white paper with silver and gold ribbons. There had been a gift card attached. It had read, “ These belong with the person who loved them the most . All of my love, and best wishes for a long and happy marriage, MR ”.

What was inside the box had made his chest constrict, powerful emotions from his time with his amazing Mistress flooding his mind and body. In their original boxes had been his three favorite toys from the time they had spent in her playroom. The leather flogger which had been the first impact tool she had used on him, the insanely expensive ebony wood paddle with the braided, satin ribbon wrapped handle. The last gift was the most precious, nestled in the bottom of the box so he would open it last. It was the riding crop she had purchased specifically to use on his twenty first birthday, with the black leather loop and the black leather grip which had hand cut diamonds all around it, so the layer of cognac colored leather beneath could show through. It was f*cking beautiful.

She had confided on one of their last nights together, she had to retired the items, pulling them from her custom-made cabinet in her playroom and finding them a new home next to her garters and stockings in one of her dresser drawers. She had to remove them from the playroom, she revealed, because she had become more than slightly protective of them, not wanting to use them with her other subs. She had too much of an emotional attachment to her special boy and the memories of when she used the tools with him and hadn’t wanted to share them with anyone else. Negan had been touched at the time and was even more so as he had opened each box.

Negan had never shared the gift or the story of Mistress Rene with Lucille, telling her the package had been a gag gift from one of his college buddies, which he’d thrown in the dumpster outside of their apartment building. He had known she wouldn’t understand the gift’s importance to him, and he couldn’t take the chance she would scoff at the items, or worse yet, show disgust over the story of his time with his dominatrix. He put the slim boxes in an old duffel bag on a high shelf in the spare room closet his wife had deemed “his”, and there they had stayed. The duffel bag had moved from house to house with him, and always found its place on the highest shelf of his closet. The items were only removed once a year, when he wanted to bring the memories back to the front of his mind and celebrate them, along with his birthday.

_________

At precisely eight, o’clock Gigi heard the familiar “Psst!” outside the screen door in her room. Her heart raced at the sound and her entire body thrummed when, as she lay on her back on the bed, she turned her head and took in the vision standing on her deck. Negan was dressed in nothing but a pair of dark blue jeans. His chest and feet bare, his dark hair was slicked back off his face from a recent shower. His beard had been neatly trimmed. The sight of him made her breath hitch.

She looked like f*cking heaven, his good girl, dressed in her white scanty undies and bralette. Her skin had a golden hue from the time she had been spending outside on the dock and in the water since she had moved into the house. He hadn’t noticed the change from its former creamy fairness to its healthy glow until now, the difference highlighted by the contrast between her tanned skin and her white lingerie.

Sliding the screen door aside, he smiled at her as he entered, not bothering to close the screen and shutting the glass paneled interior door instead because he felt the need to be shut off from the world with her. Gigi watched him with a curious expression, glancing at the duffel bag in his hand as he set it on the bottom corner of themattress.

“You planning to go to the gym after you leave here tonight?” she teased him, mischief in her eyes.

Negan’s response was to promptly crawl on top of Gigi and give her a long, sensual kiss, not stopping until she was digging her fingernails into the back of his neck and panting against his lips. “My good girl, looking so f*cking beautiful for me,” he lauded. Laying his head on her collarbone he rested for a moment, breathing her in and enjoying the feel of her underneath him.

“We have a lot to talk about, Gigi,” he reminded her gently, running his hands up and down her sides. He had thought long and hard about how to start the discussion which would help her decide on the intensity of their play. “You asked me today what I wanted for us, and I gave you an honest answer. But there wasn’t time to explain why, or what that would mean for us, exactly.”

Sitting up, he studied the wide-eyed look she was giving him, wanting to f*ck her into oblivion for hanging on his every word as if each was a key to the meaning of life. The desire intensified when she nodded at him very seriously. “Remember how I told you on the phoneabout my dyscalculia and dyslexia?” When she nodded once more, he continued. “And how an amazing woman named Rene was the one who figured out I had the learning disabilities and then tutored me?” Negan paused for a moment. He was confident Gigi was the perfect person to finally share such an intimate part of his history with, but he was considering giving her the condensed version of the story.

Sensing some sort of hesitancy in him, his girl sat up, moving to sit closer to him. She didn’t wrap her arms or her body around him. She didn’t take his hand. Instead, she pushed the tips of the toes of one of her feet under the side of his thigh where it rested on the bed, physically supporting him in the way she knew would be comfortable for him. Her simple, knowing gesture convinced him to tell her the whole story.

“Rene was more than just a professor and a tutor to me,” he shared casually, stopping to open the duffel bag and pull out three flat rectangular boxes of varying lengths and widths. He sat them on the bed next to her.

Gigi could tell at first glance they were decades old. Despite their age, the luxurious cardboard boxes showed very minor signs of wear. They were obviously important to Negan, judging by the care he had taken to keep them in such pristine shape over the years. She couldn’t imagine what was inside them.

When she finally looked up at him, she discerned exactly how important they were to him from the way he was looking over the boxes, visually checking them for any new signs of damage. He was grinding his front teeth together lightly, something she hadn’t seen him do before. He simply laid a protective hand over the boxes, smiling as if at a pleasant memory.

Gigi smiled with him, feeling the emotion the boxes evoked in him. What hewanted to share was suddenly clear as day for her. “You loved her!” She couldn’t hide thewonder over her realization.

“I really f*cking did,” he affirmed in his usual, straightforward way, running his fingers up and down the length of the top box, affectionately.

“Whatever is in these boxes belonged to her, or was a gift from her,” she added, slowly filling in the pieces of the puzzle. She sat in silence for a moment, touched by the magnitude of what he was he was sharing with her.

His good f*cking girl completely understood what he had wanted to share with her, before he had even spoken the words. He knew in that moment he’d made the right choice in bringing the toys with him. It would be nice to finally share the story he’d never told anyone, and he knew his dancer would be genuinely interested.

There had also been another reason why he’d brought the gift with him. It had been clear, during their discussion in her office, she hadn’t thought about the possibility of using tools for impact play and hadn’t considered he might be well versed in BDSM. Sharing his toys with her, while they were still in neutral territory, was a good way to start a discussion.

Like a f*cking kid on Christmas morning, his girl scooted closer to the boxes and looked up at him, full of expectation. “Are you going to show me what’s inside?”

“You can open them, Gigi,” he gave her permission, removing his hand from the top of the stack.“But you need to know, just because I’m sharing these with you, doesn’t mean you have to say yes to using them.”

He could see she was confused as to why she might want to use what was in his boxes. “Rene was a Dominatrix!” his girl suddenly blurted out, smiling from ear to ear when she figured out what was likely inside the boxes.

“Yes,” Negan chuckled, taking the lid off the first one for her. He could have f*cking kissed his prissy girl, first for being excited at her new discovery, and second for knowing one of the titles for female dominant was Dominatrix. “Have you been doing some reading on the internet, Gigi?” he goaded her.

“Yes,” she replied haughtily, frowning at him playfully. His girl gingerly opened the tissue inside the first box with her fingertips, revealing the leather flogger inside. She ran her fingers over the strands coming out of the handle. “It’ssooosoft. Is it lambskin?” Picking up the toy, she turned it in her hand, then dragged the falls gently across her thighto feel them on her skin.

“Deer skin,” Negan informed her, pleased with the interest she was taking in the piece. Wait til you feel it on your f*cking ass, sweetheart.

“It feels like velvet!” Putting it back in the open box, she took the lid off the next, picking up his paddle. “Ebony? Oh my god, Negan, your Rene had excellent taste!” After testing the weight of it in her hand, she returned it to its place, moving to the last box.

Negan carefully watched her response to the riding crop. It was very different from her responses to the first two toys. She fingered the implement inside the box, turning it where it lay. “The black and brown is so rich looking,” she commented, running the pad of her finger over the diamond pattern in the handle. It was when she pushed it with her knuckle to feel its weight, instead of picking it up, he knew she was afraid to express her interest in it. His dancer liked the look and the idea of it, but for some reason it induced some sort of worry for her.

“I would never introduce you to a new toy with a heavy hand, Gigi,” he ducked his head into her line of vision, to make eye contact. “This is exactly why we need to talk about what will happen, before it happens. If we scene together, you should never be afraid I’ll do something you can’t handle, or don’t want. That’s what hard and soft limits are about. You tell me what you know you absolutely aren’t willing to do, what you know would be a problem physically or emotionally. Those areyour hard limits. I have to abide by them.”

“What if I nix something you really want to do? Something you really love?” There was no skepticism in his girl’s tone. Only curiosity.

“My job is to make sure my sub is well cared for, comfortable, and safe. It’s something a good dominant takes pride in. Coercing or forcing you to do something you don’t really want to do holds no f*cking interest for me. Along the same vein, if you are convinced you are ready to try something that I feel is beyond your level of experience, or might not be safe for you, it would be my responsibility to insist on milder play. The Dom makes the final decisions about whether a submissive is ready to handle the next level of play,” Negan explained.

Gigi found it fascinating, the man who had so much difficulty expressing his emotions was so eloquent and thorough in explaining such an intricate sexual dynamic with her. “So you can choose whether things like these cause a little bit of pain, or a lot.” she clarified. “How do you know how hard to hit with them?”

“Experience,” he returned simply. He had observed and felt every type of impact with the tools in front of her. It would be his first time administering the strikes, but he was confident in his knowledge. He had learned from the best of the best. He would need to learn Gigi's tolerance for different types of pain by starting soft and working up. Rene had told him more than once; each person’s perception of pain is different and a good dom took their time learning their sub’s thresholds.

Negan furrowed his brow,honing inon something specific his girl had said. “When you say, ‘things like these’, are you telling me you wouldn’t want me to use these?” He gestured to the boxes between them. “Is it because they’ve been used before?” He wanted to be sure he wasn’t missing something important to her. He would love to be able to share his toys with her in a more intimate way, but if starting with new tools would be more emotionally comfortable for her, he would buy new ones. Perhaps he would even buy her a special gift of her own.

“Oh, no, Negan! I just never would have assumed …” Gigi’s voice trailed off. She needed to stop and think before she spoke. “I know these are precious to you. Are you telling me you want to share them with me?”

“That’s what I was thinking Gigi, but I understand if it would make you uncomfortable. I get it,” he reassured her, genuinely. He remembered wondering how many other men had felt his favorite flogger on their body. He had never asked his Mistress because he hadn’t really wanted to know the answer.

His f*cking amazing Tiny Dancer then reminded him once more why he was head over f*cking heels for her, surprising him with her response.

“No, Negan. That’s not it at all.” Reaching back into the box with the flogger, she ran her fingers along the softtasslesonce more. “I wouldn’t have thought you would want touse them with anyone other than Rene, since they’re so special to you. I would be honoredif you would use themwith me.”

Negan knew he’d been f*cking right about her. He f*cking knew he could share his past with her, and she would be nothing but open and supportive. The fact she felt honored, floored him. Closing the open boxes and placing them on the floor along with the duffel bag, he quickly laid her back on the bed and crawled on top of her, kissing her deeply.

“What's going on, Negan?” Gigi asked him when he finally pulled back from her, confused by his sudden ardor.

Pulling the strap of her lacy bralette down her arm to uncover Tiny Two, he nipped at her teeny, rosy little peak a few times before he informed her, “I need to f*ck my awesome f*cking girl right now, and then we’ll talk about how I’m going to whip your hot little ass.” The words weren’t flowery, or romantic, but hopefully they conveyed how much he appreciated her awe and respect for the items which were so f*cking precious to him.

“Negan?” his dancer tapped his shoulder with two fingers, prompting him to abandon his teeny long enough to look up at her.

“Yeah, Gigi?”

“I think Iwant to play in the deep end with you.”

Chapter 29: Coming Soon

Chapter Text

Hi everyone-Almost had the next chapter of this story finished, but then managed to flip an ATV over on myself during some vacation fun, and busted something in my shoulder. I don't know about anyone else, but 2020 has been the strangest, craziest year for me so far! I figure things can only go up from here. Have a happy fourth of July, my friends in the US, and a word of advice- when your hubby/partner tells you that hill isn't as steep as you think it is, and you'll be fine to drive up, ignore him/her!! :-D (Picture a woman flat on her back with a four wheeler upside down on top of her-that was me.)

While I type with my left hand to finish the next chapter of TD, I started posting a new story if you are interested. Here's the link
https://archiveofourown.org/works/24870235

Chapter 30: Mercy

Chapter Text

To love a submissive is to feast upon her form,

appreciate her strength,

cherish her mind,

recognize her pain,

understand her fears

admire her will

and treasure her submission.

Author Unknown

__________

“Who’s my tough girl?”

“I am,” Gigi informed him proudly after inhaling and exhaling in sync with him several times as he had instructed, trying to quell her heavy breathing and more importantly, focus herself.

“Yes, you are,” he validated her. Negan had to admit he was slightly in awe of his newbie's pain threshold. “I’m really proud of you, Gigi.”

____________

“I don’t think I’d like being humiliated.”

Negan had asked Gigi if she could think of any hard limits she might have and she had taken several minutes to respond to him. She was lying on his chest while they both tried to cool down after a particularly rambunctious quickie. He had been worried about sharing his history and his love of BDSM with his girl for no good reason. He’d been over-f*cking-joyed when she had confided she wanted to jump into his world feet first. Her positive response to every f*cking thing he’d told and offered her had inspired him to show her, in his favorite way, just how much her acceptance meant to him. It didn’t hurt he’d gotten a long overdue org*sm out of their frisky f*ck session. His dick had been aching for her ever since she had sent him her p*rn shots during football practice.

“What do you think of when you think of humiliation?” he returned, wanting to be sure he was clear about her definition of the term.

“Shaming, name calling … anything intended to make me feel bad about myself,” she responded thoughtfully. “Does that make sense?”

“All the sense in the f*cking world. Luckily, humiliation isn’t my thing, Gigi.”

“No?” She sounded both relieved and confused at his response, as if she’d assumed it was a given humiliation would be part of their play.

“You know what?” he quizzed her, his tone changing to one lighter. “Let’s go at this another way. Let’s start with me telling you how I’d like our scene to play out, and you can tell me what you think you would and wouldn’t like about it.” When his girl nodded against his chest he reminded her firmly, with a light smack to her ass to pull her out of her post org*smic fog, “You need to speak when you’re spoken to, Gigi. I need to be sure you’re comfortable talking about what will happen in a scene. Open communication and your comfort and safety are things I can’t f*cking compromise on.” The teacher and coach in him was surfacing, based on the example Rene had set for him years ago.

His good f*cking girl immediately sat up, straddling his waist. Looking him in the eye, she corrected her answer. “I think it’s a perfect idea for you to tell me how you’d like things to go.”

Running his hands up and down her sides, he caressed her rewardingly with his fingertips. “That’s my girl. You see the hook on the wall next to your closet? The one with your robe hanging on it?”

“Yes.”

“I look at that piece of hardware another way. I see a nice, sturdy, metal hook screwed into the wall stud to be sure it remains firmly attached. It’s at a perfect height to tie your hands above your head while your feet remain on the floor.” His girl turned her head to look at the fixture, her eyebrows rising at the picture he was painting. “I’m going to tie your wrists together with your robe’s belt, which I think will be the perfect binding for our first scene.”

While he really wanted to bend Gigi over her dresser or his knee and go to town on her ass with a paddle, he knew her well enough to know he needed to start her off in a position which wouldn’t make her feel overly vulnerable. It was going to be enough for her to have her hands bound and experience true impact play for the first time. He also knew he needed to start off with a mild tool for their first scene.

“Will you stay with me while I’m tied up?” Gigi had been wondering if he would ever tie her up and leave the room. She felt a little anxious about the possibility.

Negan smiled affectionately at her worry, loving the power which came with reassuring her. Warped f*cker that he was, he also loved the idea she would have to look to him for every f*cking thing she needed or wanted while she was tied up. “Always,” he assured her. “I will never leave you alone while you are incapacitated.” He wanted her to know he was fully aware of potential problems and he was prepared for them.

“I think I’ll need that, Negan,” she shared, the relief obvious in her voice.

“Do you trust me to keep you safe, Gigi?”

“Implicitly,” she answered, smiling at him. Her tone suggested she was surprised he felt the need to ask the question.

He was flattered by the absolute conviction in her response, and spent a moment considering how important it was for him to ensure he was worthy of her trust. He took a moment to formulate what he needed to say to his amazing girl. “It’s important you do, Gigi. I’m not only responsible for making sure your emotional and physical needs are met, I’m also responsible for your safety. I normally would stay in the room with you for safety’s sake, but now that you’ve told me it would cause you emotional discomfort, there’s no way in hell I would leave.” He paused for a moment before he insisted, “If you tell me you don’t want something, I’ll honor it. If you tell me you need something, I’ll make sure your needs are met. You should be able to trust me implicitly Gigi, and I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you never doubt that trust.”

Without pause Gigi affirmed, “I know you will, Negan.”

I need to f*ck her again.

___________

Should I say it?

No, you don’t need to say it. You can handle this.

Owww … I should say it. This is too much. Or maybe it’s just enough for my first try at this?

Ahhhhhh! I don’t know!

Don’t be a wimp, Gigi. This really isn’t that bad. Once you get past the initial sting, and the pleasure takes over, you are fine.

Gahhhh! No,no,no,no. The sting is too much! I’m going to say it.

“Who is my best girl? You are doing so well, sweetheart,” Negan purred in her ear.

How can one man be so hot? Where is this new silky, smooth persona coming from? So sexy … Ow! Ow! Gosh darn it! Those strands felt so nice when I dragged them up my thigh earlier and now that thing feels like a cat o’ nine tails! One more strike and I’m saying it! I. Am. Saying. It. Mercy! I’m going to say it.

No, you will not! You asked for this.

“So good for me, Gigi,” Negan was suddenly on her, murmuring soothing words in his velvet timbre and quelling her jumbled, desperate thoughts. As he spoke his fingers slid between her folds to do wicked things to her cl*tor*s.

Soooo good. Mmmmm. How does he know exactly when I need a break from the rough stuff? See? I do not need to say it.

__________

His dancer had her hands above her head where he had tied them, and she was buck f*cking naked as he wanted to see her. She had her ass out where he had positioned it, and was facing the wall as he had instructed her.

f*ck, me.

The sight of her was a massive, co*ck hardening, turn on. He had advised her she would probably be more comfortable resting her forearms on the wall and without question, she heeded his advice. He had told her she would strain her wrists less if she wrapped her hands around the hook for support. She had respected his experience and done exactly as he’d suggested.

The fact she was trembling with anticipation while she waited for whatever was to come was another one of many reasons for the twitching little bastard to sing a rousing rendition of the hallelujah chorus. Negan took several minutes to admire every f*cking detail about Gigi as he geared himself up for their scene. He wished he could take a picture to use as wallpaper on his phone’s home screen.

My perfect f*cking girl.

__________

She loved the feel of his hand smacking her rear end, then soothing away the sting. Negan had informed her he was going to start their scene without toys. He wanted to feel her “hot little ass” under his palms.

“So you won’t tell me when you are going to spank m ...” Gigi’s question was cut off when she was startled by another, not so gentle smack on her rear end. “Ow! Negan! ”

“No, I will not,” he answered flippantly. She huffed, giving him a whine of discontent as she raised herself onto her toes and then relaxed in response to the unexpected spank. Pressing himself to her back he chuckled at the petulant ‘ oww’ she whispered. She had told him no humiliation, but she hadn’t said anything about busting her balls. “Too much for you already, prissy girl?” he challenged, trying to fire her up a little bit.

His tiny dancer was taking a while to get comfortable in the scene, which wasn’t surprising since it was her first. She seemed unsure of herself and a bit lost. He could see she was trying to submit to him, but she was also fighting her instinct to try to control the situation. Knowing she felt her strongest and very much in control when they were arguing or in a power play, he decided she might enjoy her first scene more if he let her exhibit some strength and maintain some small sense of control. If he insisted she show him the highest level of submission on their first go round, she may not want to come back for more.

He knew Gigi may never take to giving him complete control. Some submissives thrived on challenging their Dom and loved paying a price for their lack of total submission. He'd had a bit of defiant streak in him when Rene had played with him. It had been against his nature to fully submit to her, and he had loved the f*ck out it when his Mistress had punished him for breaking her rules. Negan was going to feel his girl out and help her find the role to bring out the best in her.

Negan’s amusem*nt was not what Gigi had expected. She was offended by his laughter and the poorly timed use of his nickname for her. She couldn’t tell if he was serious. He had told her earlier what happened in a scene would be their reality. Did he really feel she was too prissy to handle impact play? The thought was disappointing.

When it came down to it, If she were truly so prissy, she wouldn’t have allowed him to tie her up. She was putting herself in a new, extremely foreign, vulnerable position with him. His chuckle felt like judgement, especially since he was questioning whether she would be able to handle this low level of BDSM play.

Calming her breathing she steeled herself, determined not to give him the satisfaction of being caught off guard again. If he thought one little spank was too much for Gigi Sokolov, he was so very wrong. Her deep breaths centered and focused her. As she relaxed her trembling abated, her head and shoulders straightened, her jaw jutting forward in defiance. She realized, in that moment, exactly what he was doing.

There’s my hellion. Come out and play with daddy, sweetheart. Negan watched her physically rid herself of her nervousness, rolling her head on her shoulders and straightening her spine.

“Too much? Not in the least,” she retorted in a level tone of voice. “If that’s the worst you’re going to do, I don’t really understand what all the fuss over BDSM is about.” It felt so good to lash out at him, her barb helping her to feel like she had finally found a foothold in the unfamiliar situation. She could feel his eyes boring into her back in response to her dig, and she could feel his body heat as he moved into her space.

Bring it on, Sir. Bring it on.

_________

Negan rolled, forcing Gigi off her perch on his stomach and onto her side so he could pull her in close to explain what it was like to immerse oneself in a scene. He also needed to lick her lusciously full bottom lip because it was f*cking calling to him. “You can play out your deepest, taboo desires, Gigi. You can be whoever you want to be; the person you wouldn’t have the courage to be in your day to day life. A stronger version of you or a person who is your complete opposite,” Negan instructed Gigi when he described their first scene. He knew stepping outside herself would appeal to her since she had told him as much. “But it's not acting. When you are in the scene, it’s your reality. If we scene well together, you will feed off my energy and commands and play off them.” He hoped he was explaining things in a way which made sense for her. “The great thing is when the scene is over, you can tuck away that daring part of yourself and go back to your everyday life.”

“That sounds amazing,” she responded, her eyes lighting up with excitement. Grazing her lips over his Gigi confessed, “I want to help fulfill your deepest, darkest, taboo desires.”

“Sweetheart, you are my deepest f*cking desire,” Negan revealed, nipping across her jawline and down her neck. “But now I’ll be able to unleash all the f*cking taboo things I’ve wanted to do to you.”

Oh.

___________

“If that’s the worst you’re going to do, I don’t really understand what all the fuss over BDSM is about.”

Negan pressed himself to her back, feeling her fiery attitude rolling off her. The Dominant in him wanted to break her f*cking attitude down and physically put her in her place, even though he had purposely antagonized her. While his first instinct was to grab her jaw and squeeze her mouth uncomfortably, he couldn’t bring himself to do it, the picture of his father hurting his mother in the same manner flashing through his mind. Without dwelling on the image he reached around her in a lightning quick move, his fingertips landing on the corner of her mouth with force and dragging across her lips in a lazier version of a smack. He made his point without any frightening or painful aggression. His smart mouth girl was clearly startled. Even so, her head snapped back to face the wall in compliance. Her chin jutted out defiantly and her jaw clenched in anger.

Perfect. In learning how to play with her he needed to be in tune with her every response. He needed to be able to pick up on any discomfort or upset she might not be able to display or might be too shy to voice. Reaching up to the hook above her head he laid his fingers over hers and squeezed her hands twice, an emotional check in he had taught her before he had tied her up. It was a way to make sure she was okay, in case she couldn’t verbally communicate with him. If she didn’t squeeze his hand back twice he would safe word for her. In this case he was checking in to be sure popping her on the lips wasn’t too much for her or something she considered humiliating, since humiliation was one of her hard limits.

Gigi was initially shocked he had swatted her lips and it had taken her a few seconds to realize it was all part of Negan’s role as her Dom. She had been disrespectful and he was punishing her for it. She was shocked to find she liked being physically punished. He had set rules and expected her to adhere to them without fail.

Gigi had always been a rule follower. The Type A person in her followed all of life’s rules because she couldn’t bring herself to do otherwise. In this little intimate world she could step outside herself and see what would happen if she broke the rules. Just as she liked pushing Negan’s buttons when they were arguing, she liked the idea of breaking the rules he had set to see what his response would be. She trusted he would never be overly forceful with her or cause her pain other than for pleasure’s sake. Feeling him squeezing her hands, Gigi wrapped her thumbs around his wrist and squeezed back twice to let him know she was comfortable with their current role play.

Feeling her response, the man in charge didn’t miss a beat and pushed forward with their scene. “Excuse me? I think my ears are deceiving me, darlin’. I would have sworn there was a little disrespect flung in my direction and I’m pretty sure it came out of your mouth.” Negan pushed his chest into her back, making sure to graze his lips along the shell of her ear and the delicate skin behind it when he spoke, focusing on two of the spots he knew made her swoon.

The tease of her Dom’s lips was enticing, and Gigi turned her head slightly so she could better feel them as he voiced his displeasure. His firm, disapproving tone coupled with the sensuality of his touch inflamed something in her. Her eyes fluttered shut as she tried to sort out the contradiction of being insulted by his admonition and the arousal caused by his gentle, physical touch. She found the combination pleasantly disconcerting.

When Negan felt her agitation physically dissipate and her ear moving toward the caress of his lips he quickly backed up, striking before she could process the physical loss of him. Ten strikes across her ass, one hand then the other, each hitting the same two spots on the outside of her glutes over and over. He increased the intensity with each impact, watching and listening for her response.

Gigi wanted to cry out. The physical need to make noise was overwhelming but she refused to sound pathetic and weak. She held in her cries, growling instead after the last, more painful hits. If she could dance on blistered feet for hours she was sure she could handle this. Pretty sure. Well, she hoped so. No. She could do it. She was determined to be strong for him so they could continue to play.

Her Sir was beside her again, his torso pressed to her side. He gently rubbed the inflamed skin to ease the sting while his other hand splayed across her belly to physically support her. “So you don’t understand what all the fuss is about?” As he spoke he dragged his fingers through her slit, purposely skimming along her cl*t while he gave her inflamed skin one more stinging smack to make his point.

Chest heaving twice, Gigi found herself whimpering as she tried to catch her breath. Her brain and her core were at odds as she tried to meld together the two radically different sensations.

“I’m not going to tell you again. You need to speak when you are spoken to, little girl,” Negan chastised her, remembering how it used to both infuriate and humble him when Mistress Rene would patronize him by calling him “little boy” when she was asserting her authority over him.

“No, Sir,” she responded, then corrected herself. “I mean, I do Sir. I didn’t mean what I said.”

My f*cking fiery little wench. Though she had spoken the right words, she hadn’t tried to hide her sarcasm. His co*ck saluted her moxy. Kissing across her shoulder towards her neck, he made sure to reward her quick response. “I knew my good girl was in there somewhere. Such perfect manners.”

Negan smirked when she purred like a f*cking cat. Wanting her to hear and feel his disapproval he raised his voice to practically yell, “But I don’t like your tone! I’m disappointed in you, Gigi.”

The slight slump of her shoulders was unmistakable, and the tension in her jaw relaxed as she lowered it in self-reproach. He wanted to groan out loud at the sight. He reached down to stroke his hard on before he smacked it on her ass a few times to let her know how much he liked putting her in her place.

___________

“You need to use your safe word when you’re uncomfortable in any way,” he explained as he bound her wrists together with the belt from her robe. “If your pain level is too high or you are physically uncomfortable in any f*cking way, you should use your safe word. If you are panicked or upset. If you need something to drink or need to go to the bathroom you should say it. If the scene feels like too f*cking much or you feel like you just need a break, what do you say, Gigi?” He stopped his work and looked into her eyes.

“Mercy.”

“Should you worry about whether I’ll be disappointed if you safe word out of the scene?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Why?”

“Because you won’t be upset. You will be proud of me for knowing my limits,” she repeated what he had gone over with her before they had started preparing for their scene.

“And what will happen if you say your safe word?” he prodded her as he moved two fingers between the fabric and her wrists to make sure it was comfortable. There was a bit of give in the binding, which would ensure it wouldn’t feel too tight once he looped it over the hook.

“You will stop what you are doing immediately and untie me,” the dancer responded without hesitation.

“Are you confident about that?”

“Very.”

“You should be.”

Gigi marveled at the way Negan continued to talk to her as he looped and tied the fabric with an experienced hand. He ran his fingers along and under the satin, checking it to make sure it wouldn’t chafe or burn if she squirmed and to be sure it would hold.

“What’s your safe word, Gigi?” he repeated, wanting to hear her affirm it one more time.

__________

The man who was standing behind her was one Gigi had met before, but was not very familiar with. He’d shown himself only in moments of intimacy, but even then his appearance had been fleeting. The man was very much in control and expected complete compliance, yet he was very patient with her as long as she tried her best to follow his rules.

Sir’s exquisite, brazen masculinity was balanced out with the perfect amount of genuine caring and concern. He exuded power and authority, yet he was uncharacteristically gentle and nurturing. She was sure she was in love with him, which should have been a shock since she had in total only been in his presence for a handful of minutes.

What fascinated her most of all, was he had not sworn once since they had started playing.

__________

“Please, please, please,” she insisted vehemently, panting in time with the motion of his fingers. “Ahh, please! Ahh! Hahhhhhh! Please …”

Negan rejoiced in the sounds of pleasure he was forcing out of his girl. She begged and he groaned. She whimpered and he growled.

“Hewwww ...”

He didn’t need to look down to know his co*ck was leaking like a f*cking faucet at the sound of the most pathetic, beautiful f*cking noise he had ever heard. Half whimper and half sob, it was involuntarily forced out of her throat in response to him working her ass and her puss*. The omnipotent Negan had been kind enough to invite her into heaven with a crook of his expert fingers. He was going to town on her, the index and middle fingers of one hand fingering her ass while the same two fingers of his other hand pounded into her puss* on opposite beats. The force of his strokes were shaking and rocking her body.

He was rewarding her for being so f*cking tough for him when he had spanked and flogged her ass and thighs into their current fiery shade of red. She had straightened her arms so her head and shoulders could drop as low as possible in her trussed state. Her feet were spread wide on the floor and her ass was sticking as far out as she could push it, as he had insisted.

He was determined to blow her mind, not holding back in his erotic assault. She was beside herself. Her knuckles were white from gripping the hook above her with all her strength. She was practically prancing, shifting from one foot to the other, then up onto her tiptoes and back down. She was bending her knees and tilting her hips and spreading herself further open for him so his fingers would sink deeper inside her. He loved every f*cking bit of it.

If anyone would have asked him a month ago if this woman would ever physically give herself over to him so f*cking completely or would ever put herself on display in such an unrestrained, lewd manner he would have laid odds it would never happen and he would have fully expected to win his bet.

She’s going to need some serious f*cking support while she sorts out her own behavior. Negan knew it as sure as he knew his own name. It would be worth the time and energy after the satisfaction of knowing he’d blown her naïve, self-imposed limits all to f*cking hell.

His girl wailed, then blurted out a desperate, “Please! ” after he slightly shifted his thumb so it was hitting her cl*t in just the right f*cking way. He knew he had found the perfect mark when she threw her head back and arched her back, her hips and body stilling as she got closer to her peak.

Now seems like the right f*cking time for a break, sweetheart. The little devil in his head laughed like a goddamn hyena. He was having the time of his f*cking life.If every visual, auditory and tactile sensation he was experiencing wasn’t enough, when he stopped the motion of his hands, she wailed the best f*cking thing he had ever heard.

Sir, please!”

f*ckity, f*cking son of a f*cking bitch, that's beautiful!

“Who’s my best girl, Gigi?”

___________

She was begging him, yet she had no idea what she was begging him for. Her mind, her heart and her senses were afire from his wondrous fingers. It was too much and at the same time, not enough. He had brought her to the brink of org*sm a handful of times over the course of their scene. Just when she thought he was finally going to let her climax, he would suddenly switch back to impact play. One minute her endorphins and dopamine were flying high, the next her body was in flight or fight response. Her Dom was the most splendid, illicit opioid she could ever shoot into her veins, taking her to magical places she never knew existed. He wasn’t subtle in the least, presenting her with a gilded invitation she had no power to refuse. He physically demanded she step over a threshold, then he verbally commanded her to comply. Gigi was totally at his mercy and she loved it more than she would have ever imagined she could.

___________

“Do you see this?” Negan questioned her as he tapped the knot at her wrists with his finger when he was done testing the satin to be sure it was comfortable. “If you use your safe word, one tug and you are free.” He pulled one strand of the knot in front of her wrists and it easily came undone. “It’s that easy to untie you.” Negan chuckled at his girl, whose eyebrows shot up in surprise at the ease in which his work had unraveled. Walking over to his duffel bag, he pulled out a pair of safety scissors, which he placed on the floor close to the wall a few feet away from her so she could see them and know they were close by if he needed to use them to release her in a hurry.

Raising her hands above her head, he turned her to face the wall, threading a loop he had created in the binding around the hook over her head and tightening it. “Are you comfortable, Gigi?”

“Yes, Sir,” she responded.

Negan molded himself to her back, encircling her waist with his broad hands as he murmured in her ear. “Who’s my good girl, using her manners?” he praised her.

“I am.”

He could hear the pride in her voice, even as she trembled like a f*cking leaf beneath his hands. Fuuuuuuuuuuck. “Yes, you are. When you are good for me you’ll be rewarded. When you break the rules, you will be punished. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

__________

“Two won’t fit!” Gigi insisted when Negan informed her he was going to try to slide a second finger into her. “It’ll be too much,” she reiterated, moaning as he slid his index finger as far into her rear end as it would go, his knuckles wedged between her cheeks. What he was doing felt wicked and magnificent. While her brain knew she was the only person judging her predilection, she felt a little ashamed she was enjoying it so much. Though she was enjoying one finger inside her, she was sure she couldn’t handle two fingers.

He had knelt on the floor behind her, spreading her cheeks wide open with his fingers. He dove between them to lave her pucker with his tongue, causing her to gasp in surprise. After a few minutes of wetting her up he had slid his finger inside her slowly. Pulling it back out almost all the way, he pushed it back in more quickly, twisting his finger inside her. It made her core and her cl*tor*s throb with pleasure.

“Do you need to use your safe word, Gigi?” He emphasized his words with a wiggle of his index finger as it slid in and out of her. He nibbled on her glutes while he overwhelmed her in the best way with his seductive finger play.

“Mmm. I don’t think I want to use it, Sir ... mmm … but I’m not sure.” He had informed her, early in their play, she needed to trust his judgement and do as she was told. If she had hesitations, or she was frightened in any way she needed to use her safe word. Otherwise she needed to trust him to control the scene. “Maybe you should decide for me, Sir?” She smiled to herself when he groaned and rewarded her for her good manners by removing his finger from her and replacing it with his tongue.

Negan prodded her relaxed hole with the tip of his tongue, pushing in deep and growling at the sound of her cry of approval. He backed his face out from between her cheeks and chuckled at her groan of frustration. “My dirty, dirty girl. Tell me you don’t love it when I play in your gorgeous ass.”

Gig loved the husky, lusty tone of his voice as he challenged her and it made her proud and happy she was the source of his pleasure. She would be perfectly happy, living to please him. “I can’t tell you that, Sir.”

“Why not, sweetheart?”

“Because I love it,” she admitted, her breath coming hard and fast from the feel of his index and middle fingers circling her rim.

“Why do you love it, Gigi?” Her Dom was asking her the question for a reason, walking her through why she shouldn’t be afraid of two fingers.

“Because you’re so good at it, Sir” she gushed, her eyes fluttering shut when he put just the right amount of pressure on the puckered muscle. So very good at it.

Negan groaned in appreciation, and she could see him reach down to the small bottle of lube he had placed on the floor next to his scissors in her peripheral vision. “Would I ever purposely hurt you for my own pleasure?” he questioned her. She heard him pop the lid of the bottle open with one hand as he continued to massage her hole with two fingers. Gigi felt the lube run down her crack onto her pucker and his fingers, and suddenly the pleasure from his ministrations was intensified, the two digits gliding more smoothly across the delicate skin.

“Oh, my god, Negan!” she cried out as he inserted one finger inside her and pulled at her rim, stretching it in the most pleasant way.

“I’m going to repeat what I said before, Gigi, and I want you to think about your response before you speak,” he commanded in a very matter of fact tone, using a bit more force when he pulled at the muscle. “I’m going to put two fingers inside you now. You can use your safeword if you need to.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“That’s my brave girl,” he commended. “Relax for me, sweetheart.”

__________

He insisted she call him “Sir” instead of Master. “You won’t be my f*cking slave, Gigi. You’ll be my toy.”

“What will it mean to be your toy?” Gigi countered curiously, looking down at him as she sat on his stomach, trying to cool down after their quickie. Running her hand down the ponytail she was sporting from the awards ceremony the night before, she twisted it up and held it off her neck as she fanned her flushed skin with her other hand.

“You’ll be my plaything,” he explained, grinning lasciviously. “My sex toy. I’ll tie you up and do whatever pleases me. You’ll be my hot as f*ck blow up doll, put on this earth solely for my pleasure. I’ll push your boundaries until they are all f*cking bent out of shape.” Wrapping his hand around the back of her neck he pulled her down to him and murmured against her lips, “If you hadn’t noticed, I get off on getting you off. On teasing you. You'll be f*cking begging me to come. And I might be nice enough to let you. Or I might not.”

Oh.

___________

"More, Gigi!” Negan commanded, slapping the strands of the flogger on the front of his thigh while he waited for her to follow his directions. He grinned as he watched her spread her feet apart on the floor. “Very good, sweetheart,” he showed his appreciation by running his splayed fingers between his chest and her back, down her spine and over the crack of her ass, his middle finger forcing its way between her cheeks so he could run his fingertip over her tight as f*ck asshole.

His hand paused in its travel so he could toy with the opening which was wet with his saliva. As hard as his girl tried to keep her firm stance, it tickled him when her head fell forward when she was physically overwhelmed by the sensation. He smiled like the devil at an orgy, whipping the arm with his flogger counterclockwise and striking the front of her thighs hard enough to sting.

He had graduated from using his hands to the flogger when his tiny dancer had passed her beginner’s course in impact play with flying colors. He had increased the power behind his spanks to what he would consider a medium level of force, using repeated strikes on the same spot to increase her pain instead of increasing their intensity.

When he switched to the flogger, he was whipping it so only the last inch or so landed on her skin. Again, he was using repeated motions to intensify the pain instead of lashing with more force. The harder the strike, the more lasting the effect. The more lashes he gave her on the same spot the more lasting the effect. He was purposely moving from one point of impact to another, giving her a chance to get a sense of how each part of her body would respond to the stimulus. If Gigi decided she wasn’t crazy about impact play when their scene was over, there would be very little residual pain or visual reminders of the scene after the initial inflammation settled down.

Negan hoped to f*ck she was enjoying herself as much as he was. She seemed to be fully immersed and comfortable in her role. All of the outward physical signals she was giving him led him to believe she loved playing out the scene with him as much as he loved playing with her.

He could only describe the grunts which fell from her lips as delectable. The feel of her body jerking and then relaxing into the pleasure which followed was equally as delicious. He lashed out again, his aim higher, the falls snapping across the top of her thighs and the front of her slit. When she hissed in pain, he stepped closer to her while he waited and watched to see if he could continue, or if he should stop.

A long, satisfied hum followed her initial response, and Negan thanked his lucky stars, Allah, the universe, and maybe even God for dropping the magnificent creature in front of him into his life. Pressing himself to her back he spread his feet far enough apart to bring himself down to her height. Putting his head over her shoulder he turned to rest his lips on her cheek. Gigi immediately leaned into the touch, whimpering and then huffing a laugh of joy at the feel of him.

Her laugh turned into a gasp of pain and then a moan of pleasure when his hand whipped upward, lightly smacking the strands of leather on the inside of her thighs and the delicate folds between her legs. He repeated the same trajectory again and again, groaning in appreciation when the tips of the strands skimmed the underside of his balls as they landed on the outside of her slit. Well, f*ck me. A little bonus action for Sir. The combination of Gigi’s response and his own pleasure made him throw his head back. His brow furrowed while he panted open mouthed, in sync with his girl. He had never experienced anything like it.

Feeling her body jump aggressively and hearing a more urgent whimper of pain, he stopped the rhythmic motion and moved the fingers of his free hand between her legs to protectively cover her folds. Murmuring against her cheek he sang her f*cking praises, extolling his dancer’s strength and her bravery and her determination. She hummed with satisfaction at his words, all while her hips rocked, pushing her mons into his fingers in the hopes he would lavish some attention on her cl*t.

“You want me to play with your puss*, Gigi?” he questioned her, tightening his grip on the outside of her lips to create more friction as she rocked forward and back.

She nodded, huffing and groaning, growling in frustration, rotating and bucking her hips to try to spread herself open so his fingers would meet her cl*t. He f*cking loved it.

“What does a good girl say, Gigi?” he drew back his hand and slapped her mons to punish her lack of response.

“Please, Sir.”

___________

“My nose itches, Sir.”

Reaching up, Negan, lightly scratched her nose with his fingertips.

“Sorry, to my right side, please.” Her voice took on a tone of urgency as she wiggled her nose like a rabbit, trying to quell the itch.

“There?”

“No!" she responded, starting to bounce on her feet due to the torturous discomfort. “Right next to my nostril! No! In the crease! Oh, God, thank you!”

__________

Her Dom inflicted pain which she could feel, and hear, and almost taste it was so vivid and so fierce. Pain which surged through her from the point of impact, through her heart and into her brain. It was a split-second flash of physical torment which in turn fired a deep, emotional and sensual response in her.

It was as if her Sir could feel what was going on inside her. It was as if he was part of her, her nerve endings connecting with his. Without fail, the millisecond before her pain took her to a place she couldn’t handle and before relentless became unbearable, the thrashes stopped. Her Savior’s body met hers, practically crawling inside her. He pet her with his fingertips, dousing the intensity of her pain with wet, open mouth kisses on her skin and broad strokes of his tongue.

Sir knew exactly what she needed and he fed her hunger for his affection with kisses on her temple and his silken voice. He whispered praising words meant only for her ears to hear. So knowing was he and so in tune with her, his every word and every touch fed her soul. Even so, there were two words she physically ached to hear. Two words she needed as much as she needed him. Her Sir knew how vital the words were to her and he fed them to her from a golden spoon when she pleased him.

“Good girl.”

___________

His girl gasped when he lightly slapped the outside of her bare thigh, commanding, “Spread your feet apart for me, Gigi.” She immediately complied, turning her head to look at him for validation while she twisted and turned her hands in their new satin bindings to get a sense of how they felt. Placing his fingers over her crown, he turned her back to face the wall. “Here is where I want you, Gigi. Isn’t that how I positioned you? What is the rule you need to follow?”

Negan was having a great f*cking time, and their fun hadn’t even truly begun. He had taught her his first set of rules, and she had already broken one. Giddy-f*cking-up! Moving to stand on the side she was facing, he looked at her expectantly.

“I need to stay in the position you put me.”

“Why is that, Gigi?”

“So I stay safe.”

“Exactly. What if I had been swinging the flogger at your shoulders when you just turned your head?” He wanted to laugh out loud at the look of surprise on his girl’s face as the answer to his question popped into her mind. His aim was precise, but that was beside the point.

“You might have hit my face!” The possibility was obviously disconcerting for her, her look of surprise morphing into a frown.

“Which is why there are rules, Gigi.” God, I love the f*ck out of this. “And what did you do just now when you moved your head from its correct position?”

“I broke the rule.” She sounded so disappointed in herself, even while she hummed at the pleasant sensation of his fingers brushing through her slit teasingly. It made him f*cking lusty.

“Yes you did, Gigi,” Negan affirmed sternly. There was a reason why he continued to stand beside her after he checked and rechecked her restraints. He wanted to see the look on her face the first time he spanked her with force. He gave her no warning before he swatted her ass, testing to see how she would respond to a strike with a little bit of bite to it.

The shock on her face and her grunt didn’t surprise him. What he was looking for, what he was holding his breath to see, came after her overt responses. The way her chest heaved and her shoulders arched backwards spoke directly to him, allowing him to feel the impact with her. The way her glutes clenched and eyes drifted shut and back open in pleasure told him everything he needed to know. Before his Type A girl had time to think about how she could maintain some control and dignity in the situation, he swatted her again on the same spot.

“I want you to push that beautiful ass of yours out for me,” he ordered, backing up several feet. “I want to see my gorgeous puss* and that tight little asshole.” She hesitated for a moment, clearly trying to figure out the best way to execute his orders while trying to overcome her nervousness. Stepping back and straightening her arms, she dropped her shoulders so she could bend at the waist, pushing her ass out and arching her back to give him the best view of everything he held dear.

f*ck me six ways from Sunday. This is going to be so f*cking fun.

___________

Turning her to face him, he backed her into the wall. He grabbed her by her ponytail and pulled her head back, devouring her with his mouth and tongue in reward for how well she handled Impact Play 101: A Hands On Experience . He had smacked and spanked her ass and thighs and his little bruiser had received an A plus, plus, plus in pain tolerance, rule following and manners. She had figured out early on in the scene the little bastard would twitch whenever she called her Dom "Sir". She could feel it on her ass when she he was molded to her back and she used it to her advantage purring, “Yes, Sir” and “No, Sir” and “Please, Sir” every f*cking chance she got. It was important he maintain his controlled demeanor during a scene, but he had no f*cking control of the little bastard when it decided to dance a jig each time she obediently called him by his title. It was as if the purple tether around his nut sack jerked them in her direction. He had to make a concerted effort not to end the scene and ravish her polite little ass, the name sounded so pleasing coming out of her mouth.

“You did so well, sweetheart,” he cooed at her, running his lips down her neck and across her shoulder.

“Did, Sir?” his girl questioned the use of the past tense.

“Yes. Did ,” he reiterated. “I think we’ve played enough for tonight, don’t you?” His question was purely rhetorical. She had no say in when he ended a scene, unless she used her safe word.

“No.” Gigi was a bit dismayed he wanted to end their scene. She felt as if she had just gotten comfortable in her role and she loved the mild spanking he had introduced her to. She had expected him to kick things up a notch and was disappointed at the thought she would have to wait to find out what a heavier hand would feel like.

“Well, that’s not for you to decide, is it?” Sir chuckled, running his hands up and down her sides, and then caressing the top of the cleft of her ass with his index finger as he stared her down. He squinted at her, daring her to contradict him. She didn’t. “That’s my good girl,” he murmured, turning her by the shoulders back to the wall so he could untie her without the extra twist of satin created when she faced him.

Not ready to stop playing, but knowing it wouldn’t do any good to ask or even beg him to continue she mumbled, “Whatever,” challenging him in a different way.

The Dom was amused when she tried to stare him down, keeping her eyes on him while he turned her, refusing to turn her face to the wall. He knew she hadn’t forgotten what he expected of her. She was unhappy with his decision and she was challenging him. Splaying his fingers over her crown, he turned her head so she was face to the wall, forcing the stare down to end.

He smacked the back of her thigh with a higher level of force he had yet to use with her. “Don’t be disrespectful, Gigi!” he admonished her loudly, giving her one more good wallop to put her in her place. “We are finished here!”

His girl gasped and growled at the impact, then whimpered with pleasure. Taking a few deep breaths and blowing them out in response to the higher level of pain, his fiery little sub slowly turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. “If you say so.” She fought to keep one corner of her mouth from turning up as she raised her eyebrow at him.

Negan could have ignored her challenge and continued to control the scene by ending it. However his girl was telling him, in her own way, she could handle more. She wanted more. With her disrespect she was asking him for more, since he hadn’t responded to her verbal discontent the way she had wanted. She was asking to be punished with her bad attitude and her actions.

Popping her on the lips with his fingertips, he chuckled at her gasp of shock, using the moment to break eye contact with her. He turned away from her under the pretense of getting a drink of water from one of the bottles on her nightstand. She wanted more, he would give her more. So much more.

Oh, no. I’ve ruined everything. Gigi was sure she had made a mess of their scene, and she tried not to show her upset. She watched Negan polish off half of one of the bottles of water in one go before he screwed the lid back on it and set it back on the bedside table.

“What happens when you break the rules, sweetheart?” her Dom questioned her, walking around her bed to retrieve one of the boxes from his duffel bag on the floor. He turned to face her once more, setting it on the mattress in front of him and running his fingers lovingly over the lid.

His tiny dancer tried to keep her cool when she answered, “You will punish me.”

“And what happens when you disrespect me?”

“You will punish me.”

Negan could see her breathing pick up as she studied the box intently and her chest heaved with pleasure at the prospect of him using one of his tools on her. I seriously need to f*ck her. Lifting the lid off his box he pulled the flogger out. Holding the handle in one hand he watched the falls as he dragged them across his palm. “Felt good when you brushed it lightly across your thigh earlier, didn’t it?”

“Very good, Sir,” Gigi responded, her mind racing over how he might use the leather device on her. Her attention was refocused when Negan whipped his hand inward from the side, the flogger’s strands striking the front of his thigh hard enough for the sound to resonate like a crack of thunder in the air. Her lover’s nostrils flared and his eyes fluttered slightly as he reacted to the intensity of the self-inflicted pain.

He's soooo hot.

“Well lightly is not how I use my flogger, Gigi,” he informed her with a co*cky smirk, whipping the flogger across his body so it would land on his other thigh with an electrifying crack.

Oh.

____________

“I’ll just give her a little taste of bondage and impact play,” he had thought to himself. He had had their first scene planned out in his mind, having spent most of his day playing it out in his head. He would tie her up, watching her closely for positive and negative responses. He would spend a short amount of time spanking her so he could evaluate her pain threshold and the sensitivity of her skin. He would then tease the f*ck out of her, finally get his fingers fully entrenched in that fine ass of hers and then get them both off. Or maybe f*ck her into the wall. He hadn’t decided yet.

Half an hour to forty-five minutes tops, he had thought he would spend introducing her to pain for pleasure, but his girl had exceeded his every expectation for her first scene. She was a goddamn rock. His every lecherous wish for the scene was met and surpassed. She lived for his praise and desperately wanted to please him, yet she liked to spar with him. She was clearly pleased with herself when he would raise his voice in response to her defiance, yet she was devastated when he used words like “disappointed” and phrases like, “I expect better from you”.

Her aura screamed uncertainty, yet she made it very clear what she needed and expected of him, all without words. When she was crossing a threshold she couldn’t handle, her grunts became growls, and her chin would rise. She whimpered when her pleasure was greater than her pain, and her chin would drop to her chest, her eyes closing while she concentrated on the sensations he was eliciting.

If he challenged his sub verbally, she threw his challenge right back in his face. When he coddled her with much needed physical affection, she melted into him, pressing her body more firmly against his with a haste which made his ego skyrocket. She couldn’t get enough of his touch and his affection. It wasn’t an assumption on his part. She all but wept each time he pulled away from her, her body swaying towards him in an attempt to reconnect.

She was the perfect f*cking submissive for him.

___________

Sir could tell Gigi was getting worn out when her head dropped between her shoulders and her muscles became slack despite the fact he was still playing with her puss* and ass. It was time to stop their scene because she was worn out. Pulling his fingers from her he stood up, gluing his pecs to her shoulders and his co*ck to her lower back. He physically supported her with one arm around her waist, listening to her dissatisfied whine and her drunken protest, “Noooo!”

“Who’s my best girl?”

Letting her head drop back against Negan’s chest, Gigi smiled from ear to ear, and he could hear the fatigue in her voice when she mumbled proudly, “You gave me a promotion.”

“A promotion?” he repeated, questioning how her response related to his question.

“Yes.” Gigi nodded her head, letting her eyes fall shut while she tuned into his fingers gently circling her cl*tor*s. It took all the energy she could muster to force an explanation out of her mouth, but she would answer Negan because she had been asked a question. Good girls answered when they were spoken to. “I used to be your good girl,” she nodded again minutely, “but now I’m your best girl.” She laughed a silly laugh, woozy in the aftermath of the many staggering, exhausting new experiences he had introduced her to.

She heard him chuckle behind her, her body shaking along with his as he laughed out loud. She needed to crawl inside her Negan and go to sleep. Her core, however, was thrumming from his perfect touch and her need for an org*sm outweighed her need to sleep. “Can I please come now, Sir?”

His girl could have asked him for the world and he would have fought tooth and nail to give it to her, he was so f*cking enamored of her after her response to their scene. Speeding up the motion of his fingers between her folds he agreed, “Since you’ve been so good for me …” He didn’t need to explain further, the increased pace on her cl*t answering her question.

“Sir?” she panted, her head turning where it rested as her lips sought out contact with any part of him she could reach. Gigi knew she was supposed to stay as he had positioned her, but she had been tied up for so long, unable to touch him except when he granted her the feel of him pressed to her back. She was desperate to feel him. “Can I turn my head, please?”

Negan chuckled as she started to mouth the underside of his chin, kissing and nipping and sucking frantically on his scruff as she tried to create more intimacy from the small point of contact. She had moved out of position before he granted permission, but he let it slide, more concerned with ending their play on a positive note. Moving his head over her shoulder he used his free hand to turn her face up to his. He took a moment to enjoy the sight of her bliss as she neared her climax. Granting her what she truly wanted he kissed her tenderly, moaning at the sound of her cry of relief when their lips finally met. The dancer’s hips stilled and Gigi’s Dom heard her breath catch before she shuddered and shook in her release, mewling against his lips. He adored every f*cking second of her long as f*ck, writhing, whimpering org*sm.

Keeping one arm around her waist to support her, he reached above her head with one hand and untied her satin binding from the hook on the wall. Feeling her trembling from head to toe, he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed, knowing it would be too much for her to walk on her own.

Gigi’s eyes were so heavy she couldn’t have opened them to save her life. Her Negan was there to take care of her, though, pulling the bed covers over her and sitting her up long enough to help her drink one of the bottles of water from the nightstand. Her arms felt like rubber as she pawed at him ineffectually to beckon him to her. She needed him badly, on her and all around her.

Negan could feel her fingertips weakly clawing at him. He could also feel the desperation in her touch, the desperation and upset he knew might come even though she hadn’t reached sub space. His poor girl’s body, brain and heart were at odds now that their scene had ended, and he was waiting for her to crash. It was a common response after a scene while a sub tried to ground themselves.

Crawling under the covers with his dancer he laid face to face with her, pulling her close and peppering her face and lips with kisses while he ran his hands up and down her back. As he began to pamper her, his girl wormed her way as close to him as she could. Using the last of her energy, she forced her bottom knee between his two and threw her top leg over his hip. She whimpered and gasped with emotion as she did so, wrapping one hand around the back of his neck to keep him close as she buried her head under his chin.

He felt the tears running in trails down his collarbone and shoulder before he heard her soft cries, and he began to shower her with praise, telling her all of the things he loved about their scene. “You were so f*cking tough, Gigi”, “You made me so proud,” and “I can’t believe your pain threshold, sweetheart!”

Negan had wondered how he would handle her sub drop, having only heard and read about women and men who would break down sobbing after a scene. He had never been one to handle histrionics very well and the few times Lucille had broken down sobbing during their marriage had left him feeling agitated and incompetent. In this case, however, he knew exactly how Gigi felt and he knew what to do to help her work through it in a healthy way.

He had never been a crier, thank f*cking God, but he had been a little f*cking bitchy and a little f*cking needy the day after he and Rene would play out a particularly intense scene. He would lash out viciously at anyone who had the nerve to take up his space. He would either end up on his Mistress’s doorstep, or calling her from the payphone in front of the pizza shop around the corner from campus, needing her calm voice and reassurance.

Gigi’s soft mewling quickly turned into sobbing, and he did his best to console her, keeping his voice firm and confident as he sang her praises. Reminding her to concentrate on his voice and his words. He asked her simple questions about what she liked and didn’t like about their scene so she could answer with a tired “yes” or “no”. Processing and responding gave her something to focus on so she could pull herself back into a normal head space.

Kissing the top of her head, he realized in all his praise he had forgotten to tell her the thing she liked to hear most. “You did really well, Gigi. So good for me.” Recalling her story about the elderly woman who was so excited to see her dance, he added, “You made my f*cking heart sing,” because she really f*cking had.

Negan felt her place a gentle kiss on his neck, and heard her hum of satisfaction, and felt a fresh barrage of tears flow across his skin in response to his admission. Her body relaxed further into his and she let out a few hefty yawns. Within a minute or two her breathing evened out and she fell asleep, his good f*cking girl.

Chapter 31: Freedom

Chapter Text

It was three in the morning when Gigi awoke from a deep sleep feelingslightlyanxious. Moonlight was streaming through the French doors in her bedroom, casting the pattern of its panes of glass along the wall across from where she lay inNegan'sarms. She was still wrapped around him, but his lips and chin were now pressed to her breast, her arms wrapped around his head. She smiled to herself at the thought he probably scooted himself down to keep thetiniescompany after she passed out.

She could feel the steady rise and fall of his body as he slept. Nuzzling the top of his head with her nose, she breathed him in. His scent and his embrace enveloped her in comfort and safety, helping to quell the feeling of being out of sorts. He had warned her she might feel overly emotional or down after their play. Having been both physically and emotionally exhausted after their scene, she remembered falling asleep within minutes of lying down, after blubbering all over his chest.

Unwrapping herself from him, she started rolling over to get out of bed to head to the kitchen for a tall glass of ice water, parched from her sexy workout.HearingNegan’sintake of breath as he dragged himself out of sleep in response to her movement, she felt himgently splay his broad hand across her back, murmuring, “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she whispered her reassurance, reaching back to encircle his wrist with her fingers, rubbing it affectionately with her thumb. “Just thirsty. Really, really thirsty. I was going to go get some ice water.”

He started moving as he returned sleepily, “Let me get it. Just relax. You probably feel like you ran a f*cking marathon.”

Gigi took comfort in the thought he knew exactly how she felt. It was strange to thinkNeganhad played a submissive role in his scenes with his Mistress, though she had to admit to herself the thought of him with his hands tied above his head, or shackled to a frame was more than a little arousing.

As he shuffled around the bed to get to the bedroom door, she locked her thumbs and stretched her arms out in front of her, feeling some stiffness from being tied in the same position for over an hour, and noting some tenderness on the skin of her rear end and thighs. When she groaned lightly in response to her soreness, Negan immediately stopped in his tracks, moving to stand in front of her.

“You sure you’re okay?” he repeated. “I didn’t get a chance to put comfrey on you since you fell asleep so quickly. You feel sore?”

“I do,” she admitted, looking up at him, barely able to make out his features in the dark. Once again, his scent calmed her, helping to quell her panic at the thought of him leaving her alone. What is wrong with me? I’m a needy mess.

Spreading her knees apart where she sat on the edge of the mattress, she reached forward with both hands andwrapped her fingers around his hips, forcing him to take the last step needed to physically connect with her. “Stay with me for a minute?” She felt pathetic, begging him, but she needed his physical presence to ground herself. Running her hands up the back of his bare thighs and rear end, she hummed with contentment.

“Wherever you f*cking need me, tiny dancer,” Negan soothed her, pressing the front of his thighs into the inside of hers, and pulling her head into him so her forehead and nose rested on his stomach.

His fingers immediately started running over Gigi’s hair, across her cheeks and down her jawline, soothing her knowingly. Digging her fingernails into his skin she held on tightly, feeling as if she couldn’t keep him close enough.

“Breathe. Focus on me, not on your thoughts. Use me to center yourself.” Center yourself. Words I never f*cking thought I’d hear myself saying.Definitely moreof a ‘Get your sh*t together’ kind of guy.

Neganwas willing to give Gigi the aftercare sheneeded,in the hopes she would be willing to play with him again. Their first scene had been surprisingly seamless once he’d helped her find her niche, and now he’d had a little taste of his feisty submissive, he had to have more. They were so f*cking good together.

Gigi huffed a breath ofrelief,grateful her Dom was taking control so she wouldn't have to try to figure out how handle the situation while her emotions were scattered. She was thankful she didn’t have to go elsewhere for comfort and support, and happy he was invested enough in her to help ensure she would work through the unfamiliar aftermath of their scene.

As she had during their play, Gigi found herself infatuated with the Dominant in Negan. Going into their scene she had assumed he would be playing a role, but she had come to the realization Negan wasn’t acting. Of course, she had seen him in his bossy mode with her and others, but there was more to being a Dom than being in control. His dominant traits were innate, and she had witnessed them before when she had watched him take command of their department meetings at school by garnering the attention and respect of his peers with his assertive presence and a word or two. She had seen him in his protective mode when Detectives Martinez and Shump had been harassing her in her front yard. He had known exactly what to do to calm her afterwards as he did now. She had seen the same caring side of him when he had expressed his concern for the students who would be affected by the loss of Mount Vernon’s track program. He’d needed to fix the problem for them and make it all better and take care of those whose hands were tied, just as he had taken care of her during their scene and after. He had somewhat of a savior complex.

She’d had a few fleeting glimpses of the Dominant, but simply hadn’t recognized him for what he was. He kept himself well camouflaged behind a brash personality and sarcastic, biting remarks, and didn’t let anyone get close enough to get a full taste of his true nature.

He had shared with her, earlier in the night, he had never told Lucille about Mistress Rene, or how much he loved BDSM. Though he had told Gigi it would have angered him if his wife had scoffed at his past, it was clear he refused to make himself vulnerable to criticism over the lifestyle. She was saddened, knowing he’d had to keep such a wonderful part of himself boxed up and hidden in a closet.

Gigi felt honored he had chosen to let her get close enough to see his magnificence, which was truly the only way she could describe his countenance and his actions during their play. She also was humbled he had chosen to wear his dominant cloak for her, knowing she was the only one to have experienced Dom Negan. The significance of his decision to don it for her touched her heart. She loved him for it. She loved him for helping her see it felt good to truly give up control, for the first time in her adult life. She loved all the facets of Negan, good and bad. She was crazy about the more agreeable parts of him, could live with the disagreeable parts of him, swooned over the delectable parts of him, but she loved all of him.

Parting her lips where they rested on his belly, she covered his abdomen with wet kisses and nibbles, sucking his skin between her lips, hard enough to cause him a small amount of pain. His fingers paused their soothing motions on her scalp in response and he pulled her head more firmly against him with a growl. Pushing him back a step, Gigi kissed her trail down to his penis, which was already hardening from the minimal stimulation. She loved him for that, too.

Wasting no time she took him into her mouth, running her tongue around the glans a few times before she sucked on it forcefully, savoring his intake of breath and his lowly, “f*ck, Gigi!”

“Tell me,Negan,” she insisted, looking up at him, knowing he would understand what she needed.

“So f*cking good for me Gigi, sucking my co*ck,” he praised her.

The words and his tone were full of lust, and were like a hit of pheromones, spurring Gigi on. Besides feeling needy, she was hungry for him after being deprived of the feel of him when she was bound. Letting him slide into the back of her throat as far as she could without gagging, she let out a throaty laugh as she pulled back, the sound of his husky, “f*ck!” giving her great joy. Using her hand and her mouth, she began to massage his entire length as he’d taught her.

She felt hurried, pressed for time, and rushed to make sure he was ready for her because she didn’t have the patience for a long foreplay session before feeling him inside her. Pulling her mouth off his length after only a minute or two, she stood up, pushing at him to move him where she wanted him.

“Sit down,” she ordered, then, “Scoot back,” wanting him sitting upright because she liked having sex with him when they were chest to chest and mouth to mouth. When she straddled him, sitting on top of his thighs, she was tall enough to kiss him while she moved, and she could control the pace and the number of kisses, and where he put his hands since she could place them on herself. She needed to feel in control.

“My, my, aren’t we a little f*cking bossy?” Negan challenged her with a huff of laughter, feeling her sense of urgency. He felt it and he understood it, because he had been there more than once, many, many years ago. His girl crawled on top of him, her lips immediately on his and her hand reaching between them to find his co*ck.

He let her take over, wanting to give her whatever she needed to eliminate the disconcerting feelings resulting from their scene. He also wanted to f*ck her because she wasn’t the only one who was struggling with unfamiliar feelings. He found himself f*cking swan diving off a cliff over this woman who not only accepted his true colors, but also trusted him completely with one of the things she valued most in life. Control. He wasn’t accustomed to feeling grateful, or appreciative or indebted and he found it seriously f*cking unnerving. Giving his girl a good pounding would clear his head.

Smiling at his observation, Gigi shot back lightly, “You have a problem with that?” She stroked him from root to tip, his amusem*nt immediately disappearing, and it was her turn to laugh at how easy it was to distract him from his teasing. Who’s in control, now?

She knew she wasn’t quite ready to comfortably ease him inside her, so she straightened him up on his belly and lowered her nub onto the soft skin of the head of his erection, rocking on it, wanting to get herself wet as quickly as possible. She found her happy place, sitting nose to nose with him, pressed to his chest while she gave him tiny, affectionate kisses so they wouldn’t share too much of their morning breath. It was simple and raw, imperfect and perfect all at once.

He felt so good beneath her, and she easily could have brought herself to org*sm grinding down on him as she was. Her org*sm wasn’t her goal, though. Feeling him inside her was her goal. The second she felt her lubrication easing her path along his erection she reached between themandmoved him to her opening. Slidingdown on him all the way,she squirmed,rotating her hips with a groan, seating him as deeply as possible within her. Gigi sat completely still, dropping her forehead onto his shoulder while she tuned into the feel of him, loving how he filled her so completely.

“This, Negan,” she reminded him of one of the reasons why she liked being with him, contracting the muscles of her inner walls so he would understand what she was referring to. She didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by being overly wordy, but she needed him to know.

Negan knew he needed to say something and give her some feedback or things would become seriously f*cking awkward, quickly. Pulling her closer and kissing her temple he admitted, “Yeah. You feel f*cking awesome.” It was his sorry ass attempt at telling her how he felt about her, but it would have to do for now. He knew she understood him when he glanced down and caught the corner of her mouth quirking upward in a self-satisfied smirk. “Cut it out, Gigi,” he warned her.

“Okay, Negan,” she placated him. Wiping the pleased grin off her face she began to move on him. Her fingertips skimmed across his back and through his hair while her mouth left a trail of fiery nips and kisses along his shoulder and up his neck because she needed to touch him and taste him and feel him, everywhere.

Negan was content to let his girl have her f*cking way with him and take whatever the f*ck she needed from him, her body and her actions expressing a deep hunger for him he found flattering. Tilting his hips back and then forward with a jerk, he thrust his co*ck upward suddenly and his girl cried out when he topped out inside her, her breath ghosting over his cheek in the dark.

“I love that, Negan!” she whispered, though there was no chance of being overheard. Her full lips descended on his and his prissy girl kissed him in a way she never had before; gritty and deep and dirty. Ohf*cking my, Gigi.

“More,” her man ordered. She gleefully complied; morning breath be damned.

He rocked up into herrepeatedly, not giving her time to catch her breath before he slammed it out of her once more.She gaspedand she whimpered as he repeated the motion, wrapping his arms around her and curling his fingers over her shoulders from behind so he could force her down onto his dick as hepistonedup into heragain and again.

Gigi loved the sound of his hard, fast breathing and his grunts, mixed with her own staccato cries. Grabbing him by the hair she held him in place, wanting to feel and hear his org*sm when it happened. “Come for me ... Negan,” she tried to demand, but her true nature in the bedroom trumped her attempt to dominate and she begged, “Please?” as if her happiness depended on it. His thrusts interrupted her sentences as she explained, “I need to ... feel it!” Fighting against his hold, she started to ride him with force, dropping down on him as his hips tilted up to her.

“f*ck! Ahh, f*ck, sweetheart!” he cursed, inflamed by the force she was using to fight his hold on her. He let her win the battle, giving her the control she was fighting for. She needed it more than he did. “Goddamn it, Gigi!”

“What’s wrong,Negan?” she cooed at him playfully as she sped up her movement.

“You keep riding me like a f*cking rodeo cowgirl and I’ll f*cking come for you in no time,” he promised her, digging into her hips with his fingers and pounding her down on his co*ck. The sounds he was forcing out of her were a huge f*cking turn on, loud and guttural as she dug her fingernails into his shoulders.That’s it. f*cking mark me.

“Got it.” Taking hisobservationas a user tip, Gigi moved more aggressively, causingNeganto curse and growl as he nipped at her jawline and her lips.

“f*ck me harder,” Negan ordered, and his best f*cking girl complied, riding him hard and fast into an org*sm which blew his f*cking mind. As he started to blow his load, he curled his fingers over her shoulders once more, forcing her as far down onto his co*ck as she could go, her keening fueling his climax.

Holding her in place while his co*ck throbbed inside her, he lifted her off him the second his pleasure started to wane. Rolling them so she was on her back beneath him, he dove between her thighs, sucking on her cl*t and stroking it with a broad tongue, wanting to reward her for her awesome f*ckery.

Gigi hadn’t thought about her own org*sm, content to enjoy Negan's pleasure, but the second his tongue swiped through her folds, she was possessed by her need for release. Her fingers fisting his hair, she held him right where she needed him, her hips canting and bucking into him.

Go to f*cking town, my prissy girl! “Show me what you want,” he urged her between strokes, smiling when she began using her grip on his hair and the motion of her hips to slide his tongue up and down her on her cl*t. f*ck me! “f*cking ride my face, Gigi. Do it!” he demanded, turned on as all f*cking get out by the wild woman rubbing her puss* on his tongue. He f*cking loved how his girl had exploded out of her shell, just for him. Only he had ever experienced this bawdy side of Gigi Sokolov, and the thought alone was enough to knot his purple nut sack tether so tightly he would never get it untied.

Being able to control the pressure and the speed brought his girl to the edge in no time, and her org*sm seemed to sneak up on her. Instead of stilling as she usually did, her hips sped up. With a final, painful twist of her fingers in his hair to force him into the pounding beat she needed, she pushed her puss* against his lips as she wailed his name, jerking his head away from her overly sensitive cl*t the second she started to come. It was as if she was tossing him aside, done with him after she’d gotten what she needed from him. He loved the f*ck out of it.

Growling, Negan crawled up his dancer’s body, a little f*cking smitten with the fiery side she had shown him both during their scene and while she had used him shamelessly to make herself come. His face wet with her arousal, he kissed her gently. She ate it up, clutching at his sides to hold him close.

“You feel better now?” Nose to nose he questioned her between panting breaths, hoping the intimacy had helped her regain a sense of normalcy and control.

His dancer smiled at him, responding honestly, “That was amazing, Negan.” Her heart was pounding both from the exertion and her happiness. Gigi felt lighter than she had in a long time, all due to one night of sexy fun.

Negan felt the pull as his tether was knotted a few more times, effectively shortening his leash. If she kept her earnest, honest, romantic sh*t up, his testicl*s would be f*cking laced to her for good. He was vacillating between loving the idea and wanting to run, far and fast. The relationship with his dancer was moving so quickly and his need to maintain control seemed to be slipping rapidly from his grasp. It was unsettling. Luckily, the part of him which wanted to be inside her as much as humanly possible outweighed the asshole who wanted to run in the other direction in response to the speed of his glorious descent into the land of the puss* whipped.

His girl turned her head away from his gaze, suddenly quiet.

He could feel her energy suddenly shift into a different gear. “What are you thinking about, Gigi?” Why the f*ck would I ask that question?

“Tonight felt so good for me, Negan,” she started, hesitating for several seconds before she continued, “but it was so different than anything I’ve done before. I was so different” After a moment of silence she added, “Do you think it was it too much?”

The coach frowned at her in the dark, unsure of what she was getting at. Ahh , f*ck. Is she having second thoughts about the scene? “Too much?” he repeated, prompting her to expand on her thoughts.

When she tucked her head under his chin and pressed her nose and lips into his neck, he knew she was worked up about something. f*ck me. It was too much for her to handle. Negan had loved every f*cking thing about their night, and she seemed to be drowning in second thoughts. He was disappointed, and a little bit pissed. He shouldn’t have f*cking invested himself in her so heavily. It had been too soon for him to reveal something so out of the norm. He should have known she couldn’t handle BDSM. She was too inexperienced to jump so far out of her comfort zone, even if she had liked the idea of it.

“My behavior tonight,” she added, her voice muffled as she murmured the words against his neck.

What the f*ck are you hiding from?

“Your behavior?” Negan repeated, not understanding in the least what she was trying to convey to him. Come on, Gigi. Just spit it the f*ck out. He wondered if he would be okay with a one and donedom-sub experience with her. He was already feeling agitated she was rejecting a part of him he had hesitated to share with her in the first place. He’d read her so f*cking wrong.

He felt her fingers dig into the back of his neck where she had wrapped her hand around it.Neganfelt like he was suffocating, wanting nothing more than to cut and run. Make some excuse to spend the rest of the night in his own bed. He didn’t need this sh*t. Why the f*ck he had gotten involved with someone so quickly after Lucille died, he didn’t know. What the f*ck was I thinking?

“Was I too much? Too over the top? I feel like I acted a little crazy …"

“What do you mean?” Negan shook his head, still unclear as to what she was getting at.

His girl finally backed out of her hiding spot, moving so she was face to face with him again. She stared at him for a moment in the moonlight before she explained, “You said I could be whoever I wanted to be,Negan. I could be a stronger version of myself or someone completely opposite.”

“Mmm hmm.”Just get to the f*cking point.

“I wanted to be uninhibited. I wanted to be someone who could just let myself go and do whatever felt good in the moment, instead of being someone who was always worried they didn’t know how to make you happy.” She shook her head, quiet for a moment before she finished, her voice laced with worry. “But I didn’t think, until just now, that maybe my behavior was too much.” Moving her fingers into the hair at his crown she twisted her fingers lightly, mimicking what she had done when she was grinding into his tongue to bring herself to org*sm. “And when you were using both hands on me when I was tied up. It felt so good …" she looked over her shoulder in the direction of the hook on the wall, as if she was trying to picture the moment. “I just did what felt right in the moment.”

Negan co*cked his head at her, curious as to why she sounded like she was trying to justify her actions. When he’d had his fingers in her ass and puss* at the same time she had bent forward, pushing her ass back and spreading herself open for him so he could push deeper inside her. Now she was twisting her fingers in his hair in the same way she had when she was humping his face. At both of those moments in time she’d surprised him in the best f*cking way, trusting him with her honest, feral responses to his ministrations.

Holy f*ck. His good girl wasn’t trying to tell him she didn’t like what they had done. She was trying to tell him she loved what they had done, but she had let loose, and now his prissy girl was worried he might think less of her for letting her inner slu*t come out to play.

Thank f*cking God! He kissed his girl with a lot of lip and a little bit of tongue, as described in his book’s chapter, The Art of Romance Novel Sex, needing to show her just how much he f*cking adored her for worrying he may not respect her in the morning. Does she not f*cking know me at all? I obviously have not made my perversions clear to her. During their scene he had wondered if his girl might find her own behavior shocking, then he had completely forgotten about the concern, totally enchanted by his spunky, shameless submissive. “I love the f*ck out of everything you did, Gigi. I f*cking loved seeing you let go.”

“Really?”

He could hear the skepticism in her tone, so he reassured her with a nod. “Seriously f*cking hot.”

Negan kissed her as he pondered the way she had so completely immersed herself in their first scene, trusting him with her unbridled behavior. Hnnnnng. Behavior which had enthralled him, but which felt so out of character for his dancer she was now doubting herself.

He kissed her while he reveled in the idea she had ever spent time worrying excessively about his satisfaction. His good f*cking girl held his sorry ass in such high regard she was concerned she wasn’t experienced enough to make him happy. Gigi Sokolov, world class ballerina, was worried her blow j*b might not rock Coach Negan’s world. The idea was mind boggling.

He kissed her while he thought about how to tell her he was utterly f*cking infatuated with both her and her worry, flattered as f*ck she’d spent one iota of her time considering his happiness. I am so f*cked. f*cked in the head over this woman. God damn it.

“Do you remember when I asked you if you felt safe with me?” he reminded his girl when he pulled away from their kiss.

“I do.”

“Safe doesn’t only mean physically safe, Gigi,” he explained. Paraphrasing the words of a wonderfully wise, loving woman from his past he revealed, “When you're with me, I want you to feel safe enough to show me all of you. When we play, you should feel safe enough to lay all your raw emotions out on the table in front of me. You need to feel safe enough to share all of your wants with me. I want you to let any self-consciousness go, and f*cking fly.” He felt a bit of guilt, stealing Rene’s sentiments and quoting them as if they were his own, but he knew he would never be able to adequately convey the reassurance Gigi needed on his own.

He felt her nod in the dark, but she remained quiet as she mulled over his response. Raising her fingertips to his face she grazed them over his lips and cheeks tenderly. He could f*cking feel her relief without her speaking a word.

“You should feel safe enough to do whatever your prissy little heart desires, and know I’ll love every f*cking minute of it, Gigi, because I want to be your f*cking safe place.” Negan tried to explain what he was feeling.

His dancer was quiet for a time before she pulled him down to her to kiss him softly. “Thank you, Negan,” she whispered against his lips before she kissed him again.

“For what?” he questioned, wondering what had prompted her gratitude.

He could feel the smile playing at her lips, and hear it in her tone, even as her voice broke with emotion. “For making me feel so free.”

Ahh, f*ck. Lowering his forehead to her shoulder he struggled with how to respond.

Negan caged her in beneath him, bending his arms and pulling them tightly against her body. Burying his head in the crook of her neck he relaxed into her, enjoying the feel of her beneath him while he puzzled over the fact he was okay with his knotted purple nut sack noose and shortened nose ring tether. The tighter the f*cking better, he concluded. Despite his ever-shrinking leashes, his girl wasn’t the only one who finally felt free.

“Me, too, Gigi.” It was short and to the point, but he knew he’d done good when she freed her arm from beneath his and brought her thumb to his lips to softly caress them. She f*cking gets me.

Chapter 32: Writer's Block Bites

Chapter Text

Hellllooooo!!

I realized it has been 4 weeks since I last posted, so I felt the need to let you know I am working diligently on the next chapter of TD. It is crazy to me that I know exactly what direction I want the story to go in, but I am struggling to get the words to flow onto the page. I know I'll get there, if you can just bear with me. :o)

XOXO,
C

Chapter 33: The f*cking L Word

Chapter Text

“You f*cking smiling at me, Gigi?” he mumbled intothe sheet, his eyes still closed.Neganwas laying on his stomach, his forearms underneath his pillow, head turned in his girl’s direction. He didn’t even need to open his eyes to know she was staring at him, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. He could f*cking feel it as he dragged himself out of sleep.

“Yes.” She was suddenly in his space, nuzzling his lips and cheek with her nose. He could hear her smile in her voice as she showered him with tiny, girly ass kisses.“And I’m not going to stop, even if youtellme to.”

“I hope you didn’t wake me up early just to smile all the f*ck over me,” he grumbled, listening to the sound of her humming softly with pleasure as she explored the corner of his eye and the corner of his mouth with her lips, then stuck her nose in his hair on the top of his head to breath in his scent. As she worked him over, her knee made its way over his lower back, and one hand pushed its way under his chest to rest between his body and the mattress. Her other hand skimmed across his ass and down between his thighs, her fingertips grazing the back of his balls before she moved it back up to knead his cheeks gently.

“You know you’re asking for trouble.”

“Uh, huh.” After pinching Negan’s nipple between her index and middle fingers a few times with a chuckle, she withdrew her hand from beneath him and rolled away to sit up, stretching for a moment before she hopped out of bed.

“What the f*ck, Gigi?” he groused. “You’re gonna just tease me and then run?”

“Yep!” she called back to him before he heard her shower dooropen, and the sound of the initial burst of water from the fixture inside.

“And what am I supposed to do about this boner you gave me?!” He finally opened his eyes as he called to her, looking through her French doors at the sunshine outside.

“You know, I have a to do list a mile long for today, Negan, and I’m not sure your erection is on my list of priorities!” his girl retorted with a laugh.

Oh, I’ve got your f*cking priority right here, sweetheart.

_____________

Gigi was soaping herself up when Negan padded into the bathroom, his hair standing on end, scratching his bare groin with the fingers of one hand. Without pause he flipped up the toilet seat and proceeded to urinate, his chin dropping towards his chest tiredly as he held his penis steady with his index and middle fingers. It was the best thing she’d ever seen. She and Negan had made it to that pointin their relationship; the point where he didn’t think twice about coming in to use the bathroom while she showered. The sentiment seemed crazy, but she loved the idea of it none the less since she was more infatuated with him than ever after their incredible night together.

Shaking his head tosloughoff sleep,Neganfinallyturned to make eye contact with his dancer ashegrabbed her toothbrush and toothpaste from the sink and quickly brushed his teeth.Hewatchedher reflection in the mirroras he brushed,deep in thought. He knew he was done.Itwas over. He just didn’t know how to feel about it.

Gigi’s feelings surged and her heart fluttered at the sight of the man standing at her sink with toothpaste coating his lips, one hand brushing his teeth, the other fondling his erection. Their scene made her feel more deeply connected with him and she had the biggest crush on him as a result, wholly enamored of him as a Dominant. They had discussed limiting their Dom-sub relationship to the bedroom. Even so, there was no way she could separate Dom Negan from Coach Negan, and she found herself star struck by the high school teacher next door, knowing Negan and Sir were one and the same person. Sir was simply another facet of his complex personality she adored.

Negan had no f*cking choice in the matter. He was hurtling on a trajectory he had little control over. All it took was one glimpse of her sparkly as f*ck smile, lovingly aimed in his direction from the other side of the shower door, and he knew he was done. His pathetic ass was more than smitten. The f*cking L word popped into his head, even as he tried to fight it off. It was too soon. Or maybe it wasn’t. Not after what they had shared the night before. It was startling, the difference one f*cking night could make. He had known what would happen when he had takenher texted bait the day before and decided to run with it. He’d made the conscious decision to give up and give in. He had known it would all be f*cking over, his fight to keep his distance, and he’d taken the step willingly.

While part of him wanted to be pissed with himself for acting so impulsively and not taking more than half of a day to consider how one scene with Gigi might intensify his feelings for her, he couldn’t f*cking kid himself. He had already been on the edge of the cliff positioning himself for the dive, even as he’d told himself he shouldn’t let it happen. He had been trying to hold off, trying to talk himself out of taking the plunge. Telling himself he wasn’t ready yet and trying to kid himself into thinking he had a say in the matter. He had hoped like hell, as he teetered forward and started over the edge, something was going to pull him back. The decision to tell his girl about his history with BDSM and invite her to step into the world with him had been a conscious decision to jump; to form an unbreakable bond with her. He chose to let himself fall.f*ck.

He had made the decision to play with Gigi, knowing how much his Dom-sub relationship with Rene had deepened his feelings for the woman. He had given control to his Domme, and submission had made him vulnerable. It had been the first and only time in Negan’s adult life he’d consciously opened himself up enough to let someone see all of him. He had learned early in life, vulnerability made you weak. It left you open to hurt, even from those you loved and trusted. Both his abusive father and his loving mother had taught him as much. In retrospect, he realized even Lucille had never truly seen all of him. Only Rene had.

He had trusted Rene Strathmore with his life. You couldn’t f*cking submit to someone without the highest level of trust. She had f*cking treasured his submission and let him know often. She had nurtured it and him, showing him there were people worthy of his trust on the deepest of levels. The woman had known he was a f*cked-up head case the minute she had laid eyes on him, and she had known his submission to her loving and respectful domination would help erase the internal scars he’d carried and help him heal. What he had experienced with her and learned from her was what had enabled him to love her so fiercely. Ironically, it had also allowed him to entertain the idea of letting his guard down with Lucille and move hisrelationship with his study buddy to the next level.

When his relationship with his Domme had ended, he had known he would never submit to another. The privilege of his submission would forever be reserved for her. Being a sub was in opposition to his true nature, but he’d had no choice in the matter. Mistress Rene wasn’t a switch. If he wanted to be with her, he had to submit to her. Negan had taken on the role because he wanted to be a part of his tutor’s after-hours world. He both enjoyed it and excelled at it because he had f*cking lived for her approval and her love.

His Domme had informed him he must have a little bit of submissive in him somewhere, since he was so damned good at it. He had balked every time she said it, reassuring her he excelled at it strictly to guarantee himself a position between her thighs. The sentiment had always made her laugh out loud. “A man’sgottado, what a man’sgottado!” he would lament melodramatically. The entire time he had subbed for her, however, he had wondered what it would be like to be on the other end of the riding crop. His curiosity had ended up tucked away in a closet with the rest of his BDSM story, until he had met Gigi.

The day his dancer had apologized to him in the gym and surrendered in their contest of wills, Negan had started mentally rifling through his favorite closet and pulling out bits and pieces of his true self to share with her. His response to her apology had been one he would have never played out with anyone else. The bit of genuine praise, with a tidbit of sensuality to throw her off guard had seemed so f*cking right in the moment. Gigi brought that sh*t out in him.

The first night he’d f*cked her, he had thrown in some rough stuff, watching her responses carefully. He would have backed off if she had shown any signs of distress. The concern had been for naught. She had played off his energy, clearly enjoying it. Once she had admitted she liked being his good girl, it had been natural for him to test the waters more and more and his girl had jumped in as well, without a life jacket, trusting him to show her how to swim. My amazing, good f*cking girl.

There were people in the BDSM world who could scene with anyone and enjoy it. There were parties where Negan could meet other Doms and subs and play out any fantasy he could pull out of his spank bank, if he so desired. While he loved the concept, those parties or the idea of paying for a professional to scene with him was not enticing. He wanted to dominate someone he had a connection with. He wanted someone who cared about him. He needed someone he trusted with his f*cking soul. A caring, loving relationship was what he had learned in his Dom-sub dynamic with Rene, and it was what he both wanted and needed when he finally chose to engage in a scene again.

When his tiny dancer had revealed she was interested in being dominated, he had known he couldn’t scene with her without being willing to dive off the f*cking cliff he’d been teetering at the edge of. After her positive, supportive response to his history and the toys he had shared, he had made the choice to dive from the highest f*cking rock. The night before had cemented his decision.

Was his girl perfect? No. Yet, she was perfect for him in so many f*cking ways. What had convinced him she was the woman to play with was the fact he trusted her. In their short, albeit tumultuous history, she had been nothing but f*cking honest with him. The biggest kick in the ass pushing him toward the end of the diving board and the thing which had convinced him she would be the perfect submissive for his first-time as a Dominant, was the fact she had shown her faith and trust in him over and over, sexually.

Sliding open the shower door Negan stepped in, and Gigi moved to the other end of the shower so he could position himself under the spray, facing her. She had finished washing and rinsing her body and hair while he was at the sink and had waited to see if he would join her. She found his silence worrisome as he squeezed some body wash onto his palm and started washing himself. He held her gaze, though he was looking right through her while he quickly bathed. He seemed pensive, and knowing he wasn’t a morning person she didn’t want to push him. Turning away from him after a quick wink, she started to pull the towel off the bar on the wall opposite the shower head so she could dry herself and step out of the shower.

“Uh, uh,”Neganadmonished her as he tilted his head back under the spray to rinse the shampoo out of his hair. The sound of his voice startledGigi, but his tone thrilled her, and she busied herself straightening the towel on the rod. Without thinkingshe responded, “Yes, Sir.”

Her Dom’s arms suddenly circled her waist from behind, his lips grazing down the back of her neck as he nipped and sucked and licked her freshly washed skin. He pressed his chest to her back as his fingers ran up and down her arms. Taking her hands in his, he placed them flat on the wall on either side of her head as he used his body to flatten her against the cool tile in front of her. Gigi automatically spread her feet apart on the shower floor, knowing it was what he would want, and she was proud of herself when she heard Negan growl, low in his throat. She rested her forehead on the wall in front of her, a wave of pleasure surging through her at the feel of being back in Sir’s favorite position. Magnificent things happened when she spread her feet on the floor at his command, and her body remembered them vividly.

Neganconcentrated onshowing Gigi some affection, needing a minute to regroup after she turned her back to him. He was surprised by his own response to seeing his handiwork, some of the marks from his strikes still visible on her ass and thighs in the light of day. He knew therewould bevisible reminders. What he hadn’t expected was for their effect on him to be so profound.Brightpink handprints stood out in a few spots, along with some blotches from the flogger which had left marks when he had used a heavier hand. He was a little f*cking overwhelmed by themas well asslightlyagitated. He was also very f*cking enchanted with them. The little bastard below chimed in with his approval, twitching as he stood taller and hornier.

Negan willed himself to quell the conflict in his mind while he reeled in his pansy ass emotions. A good Dom always maintained control in any situation involving their submissive. He needed sort out his feelings without showing Gigi his inner conflict.

More important was his need to take a minute to show his girl what her submission meant to him. It meant every f*cking thing.Placing her hands on the wall to signal he wanted her to stay as he positioned her, he lowered himself to his knees behind her. Running his lips along the curve of her ass, he laid gentle kisses on the heaviest marks as he examined them. Most of the inflammation on her skin had settled, but there were some conspicuous reminders of their scene. He also was startled to find some bruising on her left glute and her outer thigh on the same side.

He hadn’t expected to be so moved by the marks on her skin, and he definitely hadn’t expected to become angry with himself at the sight of her bruises. He hadn’t intended to bruise her during her first scene. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to bruise or break her skin, ever. It took him a moment to understand what he was seeing. It finally dawned on him his heavy wedding ring caused the purplish-blue marks. He had lost some weight after Lucille had passed away, and the thick band was perpetually crawling up towards his middle knuckle instead of nestling in the indentation in his skin at the base of his finger, where it had lived for twenty plus years.

He had been so co*cky, sure he knew exactly what he was doing when he’d spanked her. f*cking dumbass. He didn’t know how to feel about the bruises. On one hand he loved that Gigi would carry his marks longer. Hot as all f*cking get out. Innately, however, marring his beautiful girl was the last thing he wanted to do. The contradiction was unsettling. He simply hadn’t considered how the physical evidence of the pain he had inflicted would affect either of them, despite having been on the receiving end in the past. He wondered if she had looked at her ass and thighs yet, and what her reaction would be.

Resting his forehead on Gigi’s skin, he wrapped his fingers around the front of her thighs and caressed them roughly. Pressing his lips to the top of her ass for a tender kiss he focused on the feel of her as he reeled in his racing thoughts, careful not to display his unrest.

Gigi could feel the passion in Negan’s heavy caress on the front of her legs. It was reassuring in the quiet. Having no idea what was running through his mind, she simply waited, drawing from his calm.

“These are amazing,” he finally divulged, grazing his lips across a few of the marks on her rear end. “You are f*cking amazing, Gigi.”

“I think so, too,” she admitted softly and without hesitation, firmly believing what she was saying. She could hear the pride in her own voice. Her physical experiences the night before, along with Negan’s support, praise and care had given her a sense of empowerment she’d never felt before, even though she had been told throughout her career she had the world at her feet.

“Yeah?” Negan questioned, sounding pleasantly surprised as he placed a few more kisses on her ass. “Did you look at yourself in the mirror this morning?” He was curious as to what she thought about the inflamed skin and bruises. They needed to talk about whether she thought they were too much or too little, before their next scene.

“I did.”

“What do you think of all ofthese?”Negantapped one of her marksin front of his nosewith his index finger.

“May I move, Sir?”

“Good girl, Gigi,” he praised her manners before nipping one of her ass cheeks. “Yes, you may.”

The fingers of her right hand entwined with his on the front of her thigh. She looked over shoulder at him, then down at her skin, the delicate fingers of her left hand reaching around to touch his most prominent handprint on her rear end. “I love this,” she gushed, smiling her sparkles all the f*ck down on him. She then moved on to brush the pad of her index finger over one of her bruises, then another. “But I love these the best.”

Genuinely curious he countered, “Why is that?” He rested his forehead against her ass for a moment, relief settling in his core.

“This is a part of you,” she pointed once again to the outline of his hand. “Your long, beautiful fingers imprinted on me for the world to see if I would choose to show them.” She then qualified her statement, “Which I won’t, because this incredible thing we’re sharing is just between you and me. But I love that I can look at the physical evidence of the connection we had last night, and I can lay eyes on your faith in my strength, any time I want.

“These are my favorite because they’ll last longer,” she continued, moving her fingers to touch one of the purple bruises. “I really like having your marks on me. I think I’m going to look at them a lot.” She wrinkled her nose at him, nodding, her tone suggesting she was surprised by her own admission.

“Why?” he pushed, fascinated with her responses. My faith in her strength... The idea resonated with him since he had once looked at his own welts in the same way. He had just never been able to put the feeling into words.

“I like wearing your marks because you wanted them there. They remind me of the pleasure and intimacy … they prove to me I’m stronger than I think I am,” she responded thoughtfully, as if she were just formulating the answer at his prodding.

Standing up once more, Negan wrapped himself all the f*ck around her from behind and held her tightly for a moment before he murmured in her ear, “Don’t make me love you too f*cking hard, Gigi.”

“I can’t promise you that,” she responded seriously, wrapping her arms around his and returning the affection. “Because I don’t want to be in that place alone.”

f*cking perfect.

Chapter 34: A Cry In The Dark

Chapter Text

They prove my faith in her strength. Negan mulled over his dancer’s reflections about his marks on her skin as he carried several empty cardboard boxes from his garage into his bedroom. He had decided it was the night he would tackle the job of packing up more of Lucille’s things.

He found it interesting Gigi felt she needed physical reminders of her power, in the form of the marks he had left on her skin. She exuded such confidence in her everyday life. He supposed it was one of the reasons why he was so f*cking smitten with her. She was intelligent, strong and full of f*cking conviction that didn’t waiver when she was challenged. Her strength was apparent to everyone around her, yet she somehow doubted it.

He found himself stewing about her as he started to clean, a little f*cking worried for her. Expecting to spend the evening with Gigi since Marshall and Hannah would be staying at their grandparents’ house for another night, he had been surprised when his girl had told him she needed the night to herself. “I have something I need to do tonight,” she had informed him while they toweled off after their morning shower. A bit f*cking pissed she wasn’t planning on taking advantage of her empty house by spending the evening in bed with him, he had feigned indifference as he prodded, “You have plans?”

His dancer had been quiet for a few moments before responding, “Yuri died eight weeks ago, today.” Negan’s irritation was gone in an instant and he groaned lightly in understanding. Pulling her to him, he wrapped his arms around her, kissing her damp temple as he nodded in understanding. After a few minutes ofsilenceshe finally revealed, “I need to read his letter.” He could hear the determination in her voice. “It’s time.”

“f*ck, Gigi.” He couldn’t f*cking imagine what it would be like for her to finally read what had been going through her husband’s mind right before he swallowed a couple bottles of sedatives.

The three-month anniversary of Lucille’s passing had fallen on the day Misha had come to town, and Negan had distracted himself with his get together, his jealousy over Prancer, and f*cking his girl. The day had passed without the emotional drag he had experienced the previous two months. He hadn’t forgotten the pain of herdeath buthad simply glossed over it and pushed through it. He wasn’t sure if he should be happy with his progress or pissed at his detachment.

“Anything I can do to help?” he offered, knowing what her response would be.

Smiling at his thoughtfulness she shook her head, moving into the bedroom to dress for work.

_________

Gigi had spent the day immersed in cheerleading, wrapping her knee in her heavier neoprene brace and working out alongside her squads. She pushed herself, trying to keep her mind offof Yuri.Mount Vernon’s first varsity football game of the season was three days away, and her students only had two more full days of practice before they would be performing on the field in front of bleachers full of spectators. She was satisfied they were ready, but the perfectionist in her wanted to polish their performance.

The day had flown by, and she had driven home both exhausted and satisfied. Skipping her afternoon swim, she showered for the second time in the day then straightened up the house, avoiding what she knew she needed to do.

At dusk she finally garnered her courage. Pouring herself aglass of wine she took the beverage andbottle with her to her the bedroom, opening the drawer where she had tucked Yuri’s letter after the police had given it back to her. Running her fingers over her name written on the envelope, she felt a wave of sadness as she read it. Gigi. Her husband had made up so many mushy, loving nicknames for her over the years, terms of endearment which had come to replace her name. He hadn’t called her by her given name in so long, to see it written on the paper in her hands was a reminder Yuri was not her adoring husband when he had died. He had become a man she didn’t know. A man she'd had to try very hard to love. Shaking her head to shake off the emotion, she threw an old blanket over her shoulder and carried her letter and a bottle and glass of wine outside, walking down the stairs and across the lawn to the dock.

__________

Neganstarted with the dresser, sorting Lucille’s clothes into piles; those he would give to charity and those he would offer to her sisters. He smirked as he pulled a colorful scarf out of one of the top drawers. It was the one Joanne had bought Lucille to cover the stubble which had grown back on her scalp after she stopped chemo. He put it in the box for her sisters, knowing Joanne would probably like to have it.

Her lingerie went into a trash bag, except for a pair of black lace panties and matching bra he had bought her for their twentieth wedding anniversary. They’d had a lot of f*cking fun that night, and he chuckled at the memory of her yelping in pain when he had yanked her pubic hair by accident while trying to pull the panties off with his teeth. They had howled with laughter at his smooth moves before he had finally kissed and licked the sore spot, and several other spots, to make her all f*cking better. He tucked the lingerie into his own underwear drawer, wanting to keep the reminder of their fun.

________

The air was hot and humid, a light breeze coming off the water the only thing making the weather bearable. As the sun set behind her, Gigi reflected on the previous few years. She pondered the contradiction between the heartbreak over losing her brother and the joy of having her niece and nephew live with her. She remembered the worry over Yuri’s health and the frustration which had come from the changes in his personality. Finally allowing herself to think about the pain his death had caused, she eyed the envelope where she had tucked it under the edge of the wine bottle on the surface of the dock, fingering it as she wondered what their life wouldbe like if he hadn’t had an aneurysm.

_________

Damn, she had a lot of sh*t. Having packed up Lucille’s dresser drawers Negan moved to the closet, removing clothes from their hangers and packing them in boxes. He counted sixty-three shoe boxes and shook his head each time he came across pair he had never seen on his wife’s feet.

Once he was finished with her clothing and shoes, he pulled bags, boxes and other items off the closet shelves and out of its corners. One itemin particular caughthis eye, and he dug it out of the back corner, turning it in his hands. He had forgotten about the baseball bat her brother had given her when she was a little girl. Jimmy was ten years older than Lucille. He had played high school baseball when she was only six. She had idolized him, insisting he teach her to play the game as well, and the pair had spent hours in the open field behind their house. Jimmy would pitch and Lucille would bat, the boy’s patience unending with the uncoordinated little girl trying to swing a bat which was too big for her small hands. When her brother had left for college a few years later he had left his favorite bat with his sister, using their father’s wood engraving kit to write her name on the handle.

“It’s officially yours now,” he had informed her. “But maybe you’ll let me borrow it sometimes when I come home?”

Negan felt a pang of sadness in his chest, remembering how his wife would gush over her brother and his precious gift. “ Lucille ,” he spoke aloud in the dusky light of the bedroom as he read the name etched in the wood, swinging the bat a few times as if warming up for a pitch. Walking to the opposite side of the room, he propped it in the empty corner next to the sliding glass doors on his side of the bed, a spot he would see every morning when he opened his eyes. He was a little f*cking enamored with it, and its new home.

Somehow, packing up her things seemed a little f*cking easier with Lucille leaning against the wall where he could see her.

________

She picked it up, turned it in her hands a few times and then set it back down.

She slid it back under the edge of the wine bottle, and twenty minutes later pulled it back out again.

She side eyed it several times with a frown.

The sun had set, and Gigi still hadn’t read Yuri’s letter. She couldn’t imagine what she would find inside, and after hours of reflection she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Her husband had been angry and bitter for so long before he died, and she found herself afraid his letter would contain more of the same. More of his impatience with her every word and act. More of the dissatisfaction he had constantly expressed over his radically changed life, and their relationship. Unable to hold back her tears, she cried for the magnificent love she had lost as a result of his first aneurysm. Her mourning had truly started then; she had simply pushed through it.

They had fallen in love when they were so young, and still finding themselves. Together they had made their way in the very taxing and unique world of ballet, and through the mire of fame. There had been so much to love about Yuri. He was handsome and smart, along with being incredibly gifted. He was a physically strong, yet beautifully graceful dancer who had swept her off her feet the day she had met him and kept her floating on air with his romantic gestures, his quick wit and his deep love for her.

Her husband hadn’t been perfect, but neither was she. He was spoiled and a bit self-centered, and she was a stubborn control freak, but somehow their personalities had complimented each other. They had loved each other passionately, ignoring the weaknesses in their relationship because they were happy together, imperfections and all. She had been so focused on the negativity of the final few years of his life, she had forgotten about the many, many positives.

Of course, she could list off serious flaws in their marriage, including how they had both relied on Misha to fill gaps they couldn’t seem to fill on their own. Their sex life, she now knew, left a lot to be desired but they hadn't known any better. She smiled, shaking her head at the thought. Despite their imperfect relationship she and Yuri had loved each other. Loved each other so much Gigi had ignored her best friend’s feelings for her and the knowledge Misha was probably a better match for her in many ways.

Before Yuri’s health and mood had been compromised, she and her husband had been happy. Their happiness was what she wanted to remember. She needed to let go of her anger towards the difficult, critical man he had become and focus on the man she had fallen in love with. She needed to remember all the wonderful years they had had together. Having spent the last two months lamenting the misery of their final few years together, she had lost sight of all the good which had come before.

Gigi cried over the loss of her first true love, the man who had adored her and told her so every single day, without fail. As shecried,she let both sides of her husband go. She mourned the wonderful man she fell in love with when she first danced with him at the American Ballet Theater. She also made peace with the mean-spirited man he was before he died. She laid them both to rest.

________

It was after nine o’clock when Negan finished his task, and he waspretty f*ckingproud of himself for finally getting the job done. Looking around the room he was satisfied with what he found. Other than a wall portrait of him and Lucille on their wedding day and the bat resting in the corner, he had finally removed the rest of her possessions. He was okay with it, he realized, because she was still with him. She always f*cking would be. Getting rid of her things didn’t change how much he had loved her. f*cking loved her. Will always love her.

A strange noise outside pulled him out of his thoughts and he co*cked an ear, waiting to see if he would hear it again so he could identify it. After a few seconds he heard it again and he found himself moving to the sliders across the room to look outside. Flipping off the light switch by the door frame he let his eyes adjust to the dark as he gently slid one of the doors open, hoping it would help him discern the source of the noise. He found it quickly. Gigi’s form, illuminated by the glowing solar lights on the dock, caught his attention. She was sitting on a blanket, her legs stretched out in front of her, leaning back on one hand. Her other hand was raised to her mouth as if she was trying to stifle her upset. He knew she wanted to be alone in her sorrow and he should turn the f*ck away, but her cries were carried to him on the breeze and the mournful sound called to him.

He wondered what the f*ck her husband had written in his suicide note which would hurt her so deeply it would cause her to bawl. It was all he could do not to go to her, his need to comfort her overwhelming. puss*. His strong f*cking girl didn’t wallow in her sorrow for long, quieting quickly. She wiped her eyes with her fingers in the glow of the lights, shaking her head and her arms as if to let it go. Standing up, she left her blanket and wine bottle on the dock and walked up the yard, disappearing from his line of vision as she got closer to her house.

Taking the last of his boxes and bags out to his garage he poured himself a shot of scotch. Drinking it in two swallows he headed back to his bedroom. Stripping down and dropping into bed, Negan was determined to get a good night’s sleep, the few hours he’d had the night before and his evening’s work leaving him tired as all f*cking get out.

________

After brushing her teeth and applying her myriad of anti-aging face creams, Gigi slid into bed, exhausted from her long day and her emotional evening. She had been sure she would pass out in no time. Sleep was elusive, however, and after an hour of tossing and turning she gave up.

Two minutes later she found herself sliding open the door to Negan’s bedroom. She could see him lift his head to look at her as she stepped inside, but he didn’t speak. Lifting the covers on her side of the bed he waited until she slid in next to him before laying them over her. Grateful for his presence and his knowing silence, she cuddled up to his chest as he lay on his side facing her. She wriggled and huffed until she found her favorite spot under his chin and settled into him contentedly. Gigi felt peaceful in his embrace, and the sound of the wind kicking up outside was soothing.

“I didn’t read it,” she quietly confessed after a few minutes of silence. Negan responded with kisses on the top of her head, his fingertips running up and down her back. “I think it would have made me too sad … or too angry. The man I fell in love with years ago didn’t write that letter. A man I didn’t recognize or understand wrote it,” she explained, "and I don't think I want to hear what he had to say."

Gigi felt him nod before he rested his chin on the top of her head and pulled her close. Lifting her leg, he placed it over his waist. Palming her bum, he pulled her into his groin. She loved feeling as one with him and she snuggled further into his chest. Closing her eyes she relaxed herself, sure she would be asleep in no time now that she was wrapped around her Negan.

“You know,” he murmured against the top of her head after a time, "if the tinies are f*cking sad I’m sure I could help them feel better.”

Chapter 35: Shell Shocked

Chapter Text

When Gigi made her way across the lawn on Wednesdaymorningshe noticed the blanket she had been sitting on the night before was hanging over the edge of the dock, one corner in the water. The bottle of pinot noir she had left sitting on the corner of it was nowhere to be seen. Walking to the end of the pier she spied her wine glass on its side, laying against one of the dock’s pilings. She realized the late-night wind must have caught the blanket, blowing it across the dock, and the partially fully bottle of wine sitting on it must have tipped over and rolled off the edge into the water. She gasped out loud when she remembered leaving Yuri’s letter underneath the weight of the bottle, thinking the light breeze posed no threat to her substantial paperweight.

Turning, she frantically swept her gaze over the lawns of both houses and then out over the water in what she knew was a futile search for the envelope. Though she had chosen not to read the letter the night before, she had assumed she would consider doing so after more time passed, but the decision had been made for her. She was sorry she would never have the chance to hear Yuri’s last words to her. She felt a strange mix of heart sick and relieved.

Through the kitchen window, Negan watched his girl’s frantic visual search of the water and their yards. Curiosity and concern yanked his purple nut sack tether in the direction of the sliding glass doors a few feet away, and he made his way out to the railing of the deck, calling, “Gigi? You need help?”

Hearing her savior’s offer, the dancer picked up the wine glass and blanket and walked back down the dock and up the yard where she stood looking up at him, shaking her head no in response to his question.

“You okay?” he prodded.

“I left Yuri’s letter on the dock last night, and now it’s gone,” she explained.

“Ahhf*ck, Gigi,” he responded, slightly confused at her sudden calm. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I really am, Negan,” was her honest response. His amazing girl smiled up at him before heading towards the stairs to her own deck so she could get ready for work.

_______

Gigi and her cheerleaders had unloaded from Mount Vernon’s school bus next to the football field at West Potomac High School. The coach was standing near the back of the bus reminding her squad members about proper etiquette for an away game. “We are West Potomac’s guests, so we want to be on our best behavior! Let’s be polite, and supportive of our hosts. Both their players and their cheerleaders.”

Carol was standing next to the coach, fixing the bow tied around Frankie’s ponytail. She had started assisting Gigi, knowing how time-consuming coaching would become once school started. Not only would she be able to help ease her friend’s load, she was also excited to finally get involved with afterschool activities since she was no longer subject to her abusive husband’s control. Gigi had encouraged her, glad her friend was trying to make a normal life for herself and Sophia. Carol’s daughter had joined the drama club at school, so she and her mom would both be staying late for practice most days of the week and riding home together.

All heads turned when the roar of engines drowned out Coach Sokolov’s words. A Harley and two Triumphs came into view at the far end of the parking area, the driver of one of the latter revving his engine a few times as the bikes approached. Gigi would have been annoyed at the unnecessary clamor if she hadn’t spotted the long, lean, insanely sexy man on the Harley. She immediately recognized Negan’s broad shoulders, slim waist, and the black leather jacket she had seen hanging on a hook inside his front door.

The three bikes pulled into the open parking spaces next to Mount Vernon’s bus, and she couldn’t help but stare as her school’s football coach dismounted his bike next to Merle and Daryl. She hadn’t known he had a motorcycle, only having seen him drive his charger. She admired the fingerless gloves showcasing long, tattooed fingers as he reached up and unsnapped his helmet, lifting it off. Running his hand over his head, he shaped up his hair, which was slicked back from his face with some gel. It was a look Gigi had never seen him wear before and a shiver ran through her at the sight of Negan in his leather, the wisps of hair at the back of his neck wet with perspiration from wearing his heavy gear in the August heat. His eye caught hers watching him as he looked toward Mount Vernon’s busses to see if his players had unloaded, and he smirked and gave her a nod.

Oh Sir, you are just stunning!

“Mmmm. What is it about a man on a motorcycle?” a voice questioned behind her. She turned to findMichonnewalking towards her, accompanied by Tara and Jesus.

“It’s the bad boy persona,” Paul replied after making sure the students who had been standing around Gigi had disbursed, co*cking his head with an appreciative nod at the three men in front of them. “Something about tattoos and leather are irresistible.”

“Must be something to that, because even assholes like Negan and Merle look hot riding those things,” Tara chimed in with a smirk, which caused them all to laugh. Gigi chuckled along with them at the slight. The buddies really were ornery, so she couldn’t fault Tara for her observation.

“Check out the arm p*rn,” Carol murmured in Gigi’s ear, jerking her chin toward the younger Dixon’s muscular biceps, which were showcased by his sleeveless leather vest.

“MmmHmmmm,” the cheerleading coach responded, admiring Daryl’s physique before she refocused onNegan.

________

Her panties are on f*cking fire for me. I can read it all the f*ck over her. She had the same f*cking gaga look in her eyes he would get when Rene would walk into a room. Once he had startedsceneingwith his professor, his affection for her had shifted to something akin to worship. She had both shown him and assured him the feeling was mutual, which was the only reason he had been able to allow himself to give in to his feelings for the woman.

Hekindaf*cking liked the way his girl wasoglinghim. He had spent the last handful of days practically slobbering all over himself when she came into his line of vision at work, so it was only f*cking fair shecreamher panties at the sight of him. He would lay odds if he slid his fingers into those skintight spandex leggings she was wearing, she would be wetter than an otter’s pocket. The little bastard cheered at the thought, twitching just enough to make his presence known.

Negan took off his jacket, revealing his lucky white and purple Mount Vernon football jersey with the number one emblazoned on the front and back. He was, after all, the most important f*cking member of Mount Vernon’s team.

“Good evening, Coach Sokolov!” Negan nonchalantly called to his girl. “You and your squad ready for tonight? He admired her as she stood in the middle of the large group of students and teachers. She was wearing Under Armour from head to toe, having agreed to wear the company’s insignia whenever she was at a sporting event, amateur or professional, in exchange for their donation to her school’s new track. She didn’t look like a typical high school coach in the figure-hugging workout capris and Mount Vernon polo shirt tied in a knot at her hip. Her hair and makeup were casually flawless, giving him another glimpse of the woman who felt she needed to be perfect when in the public eye. He found he liked her with her messy bun and no goop on her face just as much as he liked her all glammed up. It was as if he was sleeping with two different, very hot women.

“Yes, Sir!” Gigi called back to him sounding formally polite to those around her.

The football coach knew better and grinned at the hidden meaning behind the title. He made his way over to her once her students and friends dispersed. “You nervous, Coach?” he inquired, trying to read her body language. Ever the performer, if she was anxious about her squad’s first night on the field, she was hiding it well.

“I’m not sure if I’m more nervous for my cheerleaders, or for Marshall and the team,” she confided. “I feel like I’m the one who’s going to be out there on the field, I’m so excited!”

“You really miss it don’t you?”Neganresponded. Despite her claims of being nervous, his dancer was in her element, reveling in the pregame, pre performance frenzy around her. It was clear being nervous was something to be enjoyed, not at all off putting. Hecould pictureher backstage at a ballet, waiting for her cue in her purple satin shoes.

Knowing exactly what he meant she nodded at him with a smile, pleasantly surprised he could read her so well. Getting her squad hyped up for their turn on the field had brought back fond memories of dancing. “I think you’re right,” she admitted in response. “I need to schedule the surgery for my knee.”Neganhad noticed she had been limping intermittently in the last week and had taken to wearing her heavier knee brace all the time. The simple Ace bandage she had been using was no longer giving the injured joint the support she needed.

He had pushed her a few days before, questioning why she was avoiding surgery if she really wanted to dance without restriction. “If it’s your passion, why the f*ck aren’t you doing everything possible to get back in the game?”

Gigi had responded honestly. She wasn’t sure why she was dragging her feet. After thinking about it, she brought the matter up again the next night confessing, “I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about your question. I think I’m a little afraid of what will happen if the surgery goes well.”

“Why the hell would you be afraid?”

“Because I’ll be lost afterwards,” she revealed. “For the first time in my dancing history I would be alone. My partner is gone, and my mentor and choreographerison hiatus from me right now,” she’d joked. “I don’t know how to dance without them!” She shook her head with a frown.

“You’ve never danced without Yuri orMisha?”

“I’ve done some special solo performances over the years, but for my whole career I danced with a partner. My partner. I worked with him andMishaat the same company, and Mish was always involved in one way or another with all my business decisions. If he wasn’t directly involved with one, I ran it by him for his advice or opinion. If I truly want to dance again, Iwouldhave to find my place on my own, and that prospect is scary.

“I don’t even know if I do want to immerse myself in dance again since my home with Hannah and Marshall is here in Northern Virginia,” she divulged. “I definitely don’t want to uproot them and take them to New York. My parents are here.” Gigi had smiled at him affectionately. “You’re here.”

“You know having the surgery and making the decision of what to do after the surgery are two separate things, don’t you?” he had challenged her. “I get your concerns, but one thing has nothing to do with the other. Why don’t you have the surgery and then figure out how to move forward? You’re making yourself a little f*cking crazy about things you may not even need to worry about.”

“Easier said than done,Negan.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m a planner. I’m not good at going with the flow. I’m more comfortable having all my ducks in a row.”

“What good is over planning? What if you make the perfect plan, and it gets shot to hell?” he challenged her. “Then you’re f*cked.”

“Then I go to plan B, or C or D,” she informed him. “Because I always have a contingency plan. Usually more than one.”

“Jesus! No wonder you’re so uptight!” he teased her. “You need to learn to just let things f*cking happen.”

“I am not uptight!” she scowled, offended more by his assessment of her than his language.

"Riiight,"he had chuckled at her, ordering, “Schedule the surgery, Gigi.”

________

“We are so screwed!”

“Seriously screwed.”

“We couldn’t be anymore screwed,” Payton agreed with her fellow cheerleading coaches, Brooke and Haley.

Payton Sawyer had seen an interview with Mount Vernon’s new cheerleading coach on the local news the week before and had immediately called her two friends. The three women taught physical education and coached cheerleading at different schools in the county. They had known each other for years, having been members of the same cheerleading squad in high school, and shared a house together in Alexandria before they had all gotten married. They had remained best buddies despite the rivalry between their squads as they vied for top placement in state and national cheerleading championships each year. When the threesome had learned Gigi Sokolov would be coaching at Mount Vernon, they made up their minds to attend Mount Vernon’s first game of the season so they could check out their squads’ competition.

“She’s never even cheered before,” they had reassured each other when Haley had expressed her concern over what advantage Gigi’s dance background would bring to her new position.

“Exactly! How can you coach a sport you’ve never even participated in? Obviously, she knows how to dance but can she tumble?” Payton had reasoned.

“Right? We have nothing to worry about, girls!” Brooke had reassured them.

“Are you recording the routine?” Hayley whispered to Brooke as they commiserated about how great Mount Vernon’s cheerleaders looked on the field. Gigi Sokolov hadn’t put together the typical tumble and toss routines which were staples of high school cheerleading. She and her friends were going to have to up their game if they wanted to keep up with the new coach.

“Of course!” the woman responded in a hushed tone as she zoomed in on the squad while pretending to take some general photos of the field and the players milling about at the edge of it.

“Don’t be obvious!” Peyton warned the camera woman.

After watching the squad perform their amazing opening routine and the first few dance numbers during half time, Payton lamented, “We’re just downright f*cked.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Brooke agreed.

________

Coach Sokolov was spending equal time watching her nephew play and watching Negan coach. She had thought the man was passionate about playing football with his friends in the back yard, but what she had witnessed before was nothing compared to the mad man on the side lines of the field. He never stopped moving while the clock was running. His brow constantly furrowed, he walked, stormed and ran along the side lines, keeping track of what every one of his players was doing on the field. His eyes were constantly in motion, as was his mouth as he yelled instructions and exclamations, both good and bad, in response to what was happening on the field. Surprisingly, despite his fervor, he kept his mouth in check.

Gigi couldn’t help but stare at him. And she didn’t care if anyone saw her. Well, maybe she cared a little bit. She had a massive, unadulterated crush on him, and she wanted everyone to know. Unfortunately, it was too soon. She had spent too much time pondering how long would be considered long enough to mourn Yuri, in the public’s mind. She shouldn’t care. She should do what she wanted, everyone else be damned, but there was an ingrained part of her which needed to do what was considered appropriate. Especially if she wanted to work in the dance world again after her surgery; the world where she was expected to be perfect.

The ballerina ached to dance. Recently, however, she was unsure about whether she wanted to go back to her former life. In her short time living outside of the world she had been immersed in for most of her adult life, she found herself questioning the restrictions which had always been imposed on her. She didn’t want to feel stifled and she didn’t want the pressure of fitting into a mold which didn’t seem to suit her any longer. She wondered if she could fashion her former world to her liking or whether she would automatically be rejected if she failed to comply with its standards.

_______

“Holy f*ck, they look great!” Negan looked to Merle for confirmation Gigi’s cheerleaders were kicking some serious f*cking ass with their half time routines.

“Yernotkiddin’,” the groundskeeper agreed. “I ran into Jenna Daniels at the concession stand. She’slookin’ a little green with envy after watching Gigi’s squad.”

“Sheoughtabe,”Negangrumbled. The schools’ former cheerleading coach had been a serious f*cking amateur compared to his girl. Only one month into working together, and Mount Vernon’s squad was far superior to squads of past. “There isn’t a coach in the f*cking state who compares to Gigi.”

Merle considered his buddy’s statement before finally returning, “You are so far up ‘er assyacan’t see any asshole but hers, canya?”

“Yes, f*cking sir!” Negan admitted, smiling like a perverse loon. “And what a sweet f*cking asshole to cozy up to.” As Merle cackled, the coach turned his attention back to field. He watched the cheerleaders for another minute before he visually sought out their coach on the side lines. Amusem*nt took over his expression as he watched his girl fail in her attempt to stand still while she watched her students. Her feet shuffled and her shoulders moved, her hands rising occasionally to move to her own choreography. When her cheerleaders aced one of their tumbling runs or a toss, she jumped up and down with excitement, shouting out praise.

_________

“Gigi,” Carol tried to get her friend’s attention as they watched the show from the edge of the field. When her friend didn’t respond she repeated, “ Gigi!” and reached out to gently grab her hand to pull her back down to earth.

Startled, the coach turned to find Carol giving her “the look” she had seen many, many times over the years. Lips pursed and eyebrows raised, her friend leaned in and warned her quietly, “You need to calm yourself down. You’re pulling attention away from your squad.”

“Oh, come on, Carol!” Gigi responded skeptically, turning to look at the first few rows of bleachers behind her. She was startled to find several sets of eyes focused on her instead of the field. “Oh my God, your right!” she conceded out of the side of her mouth in a hushed tone. Even though she had stilled, people were still watching her instead of the half time show. The last thing she wanted to do was distract everyone, so she planted her feet firmly on the ground and stood still as she observed her students, settling for snapping her fingers to the beat of the music.

“Better,” Carol observed, looking around behind them to confirm everyone’s attention was moving back to the field.

“Soembarrassing!” Gigi bemoaned softly.

“Yes, you are,” her friend teased her, laughing when the dancer gave her the evil eye.

_________

“Coach!” Peyton approached Negan once his team had finished their post-game celebration on the side lines of the field. “Great way to start the season, withaneighteen to zero win!”

“Payton Scott!” the coach returned the woman’s greeting, wondering what the f*ck Annandale High’s cheerleading coach was doing at a game other than one of her school’s own. Used to seeing her with her hair in a ponytail and wearing khaki shorts and a baggy tee shirt, he was pleasantly surprised by her wavy, flowing hair, skintight jeans and a tiny titty, cleavage revealing vee neck top.

“Payton Sawyer,” the woman corrected him, shaking her head. “I went back to using my maiden name after Lucas and I finalized our divorce in the spring.”

Looking her up and down, Negan thought about how he would like to tap her fine ass if he wasn’t already tapping a finer piece of ass. “Sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be,” the woman insisted. “I'm not sorry about it. It was a long time coming.” She held the football coach’s gaze as she added. “I was sorry to hear about your wife, though.” Reaching out, she ran her hand from his elbow up to his bicep, squeezing it as she commiserated, “I’m sorry to hear you lost her.”

“Thanks, Payton,” Negan responded, casually clapping his free hand over hers and squeezing it back. She was the first teacher who had voiced their condolences at the game, and he appreciated the sentiment. There were several folks there who he was seeing for the first time since Lucille passed away. They had either smiled sympathetically as they waved to him from a distance or chatted about inconsequential bullsh*t when they approached him. He knew they probably didn’t know what the f*ck to say to him, not wanting to bring him down at his first game of the season. It was awkward as f*ck to talk about, but he found himself grateful Payton had acknowledged his loss.

________

“Is it the bright LED lights over the field, or are your brown eyes actually turning a little green?” Carol walked up behind Gigi, whispering in her ear.

“What are you talking about, woman?” Mount Vernon’s cheerleading coach couldn’t drag her eyes away from the scene taking place further down the sideline. Negan was having a serious discussion with a very attractive woman, holding onto her hand where it rested on his arm.

“You are wearing your jealousy like a neon sign, Gigi,” Carol warned her.

“What?” the dancer’s head finally whipped around so she could scowl at her friend.

“Pretty, isn’t she?”

“Who?” Gigi knew exactly who her friend was referring to, but she wasn’t going to let on she cared about the woman scooching herself closer and closer to Negan while they chatted.

“You forget who you’re talking to,” the homeecteacher reminded her. “I know you.”

The cheerleading coach looked back over at the scene playing out fifteen yards away. Conceding she might be a little jealous she asked, “Who is she?”

“Her name is Payton. She’s Annandale High’s cheerleading coach,” Carol filled her in.

“Oh! I think you should introduce me, don’t you? Come on!” Gigigrinned, grabbing her friend by the hand and dragging her down the field toward the cozy couple.

________

Negan was deep in conversation about the new school year when Gigi and Carol practically bounded up to him and Payton, interrupting and then taking over their conversation.

“Payton!” Carol smiled brightly at the woman hanging on to Negan. “It’ssoooogood to see you!” she turned to herfriend,her voice full of excitement. “Gigi, you need to meet Payton! She coaches one of your rival squads! Payton, this is Gigi Sokolov.”

Negan squinted at Carol, studying her suspiciously. He had never seen her show so much enthusiasm in the entire time he had known her.

“Fantastic!" Gigi returned, equaling her buddy’s excitement without going overboard. Which one? I’ve been looking forward to meeting some of the coaches from the other schools. I’m hoping to get some tips on the state competition coming up in October.”

“Oh, well she’s a veteran, Gigi! She coaches at Annandale High,” Carol gushed, then in a conspiratorial whisper directed at Payton she added, “I’m sure she can fill us in on everything we need to know. Her team always places in the top five!”

The two women looked at the other cheerleading coach expectantly, welcoming smiles on their faces. To an outsider they would seem genuinely excited to talk with Annandale’s coach. Negan wasn’t buying into their bullsh*t in the least. He just wasn’t quite sure what the f*ck the two besties’ performances were all about.

“I would love to,” Payton responded with a smile. If chatting with the two women would help her get some good information about the newly single, very hot football coach, she would love to chat it up with them.

“Hey, Payton!”Michonnesauntered up to the group. “You coming to Terminus for a drink?”

“That’s right!” the woman in question responded. “Losing coach buys for the winner, don’t they?” Turning back to Negan she questioned, “Coach Lamson is paying your tab, isn’t he?”

“Big time,” Mount Vernon’s coach bragged.

“I’ll see you there,” Payton assured him, reaching out to squeeze his arm one more time before she turned to make her way back to her friends. “We’ll talk then, ladies?” she suggested to Gigi and Carol as she held on to Negan’s arm.

“Perfect!” was their stereo response.

_________

Gigi was sitting at Terminus’s bar, pretending she didn’t see the beautiful woman molded to Negan’s side. She was also trying to convince herself it wasn’t worrisome. Raising her glass to toast the start of great school year with her fellow physical education teachers, she laughed at their banter while keeping an eye on the pair.

She also chatted with Coach Lamson when he cornered her to welcome her to the crazy world of high school sports, as Payton followed Negan around the bar. They looked very cozy, smiling and laughing as they made their way around the room together, talking to other teachers and coaches. What was more unsettling was how they had also spent quite a bit of time talking one on one at the corner of the bar. Carol’s right. My eyes are turning green.

She couldn’t blame herself for feeling insecure. Despite their intense physical relationship, she and Negan hadn’t technically defined their expectations. Or had they? He had claimed her as his, making it perfectly clear she was to be his and his alone, but not once had they talked about his level of commitment. In watching him with Payton, Gigi wondered if he was showing her his relationship parameters. If so, she didn’t like them.

Her worry reminded her how new their relationship was. She couldn’t help but question whether they were on the same plain. Was she ridiculous to worry about the beautiful woman fawning all over him? Was Negan’s monogamy simply unspoken and to be assumed, or was she foolish to think he was as committed to her as she was to him? Her stomach turned at the thought. He had given her every indication he was crazy about her, sharing parts of himself he hadn’t even shared with his wife, yet she had no idea if he was committed to her. She wished she had more confidence about his feelings for her, yet she didn’t know if she should.

________

“Thanks for keeping me company tonight,” Payton thankedNeganwhen he handed her a fresh beer to replace her empty.

“No problem, doll,” Negan returned. “Where are Brooke and Hayley? They didn’t want to come out and have a few drinks?” The threesome was usually attached at the hips, so he had been surprised when she showed up at the bar alone.

The woman shook her head, grimacing as she admitted, “It’s a little weird now between the three of us.”

“What do you mean?” he really didn’t give a sh*t, but it was something to talk about while he waited for Shane and Abe to come back from the bathroom.

He was having a good time with his buddies and Annandale’s super-hot coach, but what he really wanted was a chance to move over to Gigi’s group and congratulate her on her cheerleaders’ performances during the game. He had been purposely skirting around her since they had arrived, since they had decided not to be seen in public together for a few more months. It f*cking sucked ass, as far as he was concerned. Not that he was a PDA kind of guy, but at least Coach Lamson would be clear on the fact his girl wasn’t up for grabs.

“Now that I’m single, things have gotten a little awkward,” Payton confessed. “It’s like they don’t want to talk about their husbands or their kids because they’re afraid they’ll make me feel bad now that I’m divorced. And I want to go out and enjoy my newfound freedom, but they don’t have that type of freedom, so they can’t relate.”

“You need to find yourself a new crowd to hang with,” he advised. “You should come to some of Mount Vernon’s happy hours. Hang out with the singles. You know Shane’s been eyeing you up all night. Start a conversation up with him. He’ll show you a good time. Help you enjoy your freedom.” He winked at her, rolling his tongue between his teeth.

After flirting with Negan mercilessly for a few hours and following him around like a puppy, Payton understood his unspoken message and her gut clenched in discomfort and embarrassment. He was shooting her down. She’d always thought the man was attractive and she had been hoping the feeling was mutual now that they were both single. Obviously not, if he was suggesting she try and hook up with his buddy. Damn.

The football coach wasn’t stupid. Payton had spent the entire evening offering him her puss* on a platter, but he didn’t even have it in him to flirt back with her. He had been charming and engaging as always, but the only woman he was interested in was sitting across the room staring f*cking daggers at him. For what, he didn’t know.

“I hear you coach, loud and clear,” Payton gave him a disappointed smile.

“Nothing personal, doll,” Negan tried to cushion his blow. “It’s just too soon...after my wife,” he lied. “Otherwise, I’d be on your gorgeous ass like white on rice.”

“You have such a way with words!” she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks for helping me save face,” God, he smells good . Pulling her purse off the hook under the bar she questioned, “Walk me to my car? I’m parked in the alley three blocks from here. It’s a little creepy this time of night.”

“Sure thing, doll.”Neganset his beer on the bar, calling to Abe and Shane as he passed by, “Keep my seat warm. And don’t let anyone touch my f*cking beer!” Taking Payton by the elbow, he led her outside.

_______

“Boy, she didn’t waste any time, did she?” Tara questioned as the people she was sitting with watched Negan leave the bar with the cheerleading coach. “Isn’t the ink on her divorce papers still wet?”

“Our department head’s not wasting any time either,” Michonne reminded her. “But I’m not judging. Everyone copes with loss in different ways. No matter what type of loss.”

“Would anyone really be surprised if Negan moved on quickly after his wife died? I mean, he had one foot out the door with Rosita while Lucille was still alive ..."

“Rosita told Sasha that Negan broke things off with her after he found out Lucille had cancer.” Michonne cut across her friend.

“Hey, guys, come on,” Jesus implored. “I don’t think any of us would want our personal lives discussed this way. None of us know the whole story. And it’s not our business.” The soccer coach could see the hurt on Gigi’s face. Negan’s infidelity was obviously news to her.

“He cheated on his dying wife. What else is there to know?” Tara returned, flippantly. “I have no problem judging him for it.”

“Tara, really!” Michonne co*cked her head, giving the woman a warning stare. “Let’s change the subject.”

“Let’s,” Jesus agreed before calling to the bartender, “Spencer! Can we get another round of Tequila shots?”

“No, no! I don’t need another shot,” Gigi insisted, successfully hiding her shock as she got up from her barstool. “I think I’m going to head home. Long day,” she explained after a chorus of protests went up from her friends. Between watching Payton kiss Negan on the cheek and then walk out the door withhim, andfinding out Negan had cheated on his wife with one of their fellow teachers, her head was spinning. She didn’t know what to think. Was he giving the woman a ride? Or was he going home with her? Her mind was working in overdrive, trying to make sense of what she had seen and heard.

“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Carol warned Gigi, pulling her friend toward the front door to walk her outside. The home ec teacher could feel her friend’s upset, and it was understandable, but she was certain there must be a good explanation for Negan leaving the bar with Payton.

“Jump to conclusions? It seems pretty clear Negan cheated on his wife,” Gigi pointed out. “And he just left the bar with a beautiful woman, right in front of my eyes.”

Carol focused on her friend’s last statement, querying, “Think about that, Gigi. Do you think he would leave to go sleep with her, right in front of you?” She knew her friend’s mind was going a mile a minute, jumping to extreme conclusions, and she wanted to pull her back to a more logical train of thought.

“Well, he obviously wasn’t very good at keeping his affair with Rosita a secret if the whole staff knows about it!”

The homeecteacher nodded, reluctant to agree, “True.”

“Did you know?”

“I had heard talk, but you know I was on the outside of the circle, since Ed kept me so isolated,” she confirmed. “If he did cheat on Lucille, would it change the way you feel about him? Or your relationship with him?”

“Oh, god, Carol, I don’t know. I’m a littleshell shockedright now,” Gigi admitted. “I need to think about things.”

“I know you do,” Carol validated. “Just don’t overthink it. Talk to Negan. Get his side of the story.”

Hugging her friend goodbye, Gigi crossed the street to her car parked at the curb. Hopping in, she blew Carol a kiss before starting the engine and pulling away.

“Was that Gigi?” Negan queried as he approached after walking Payton to her car, his eyes on the familiar SUV driving down the road.

“Yes dumbass, it was,” was the curt response he received.

“Dumbass? What the hell?” The football coach was stymied by the teacher’s sudden wrath.

“You didn’t stop to think about how it would look to Gigi when you walked out of the place with that woman after she kissed you?” Carol admonished.

Negan stared at her for several seconds, his irritation with her name calling suddenly shifting to concern. “Oh, f*ck! Gigi saw that?”

“Oh, f*ck is right. She's not a happy camper right now.”

The football coach started to turn to walk in the direction of where he had parked his bike, but stopped long enough to inquire, “She’s jealous?” Wrinkling his nose, he snapped his hips forward and his shoulders back. “ Nice!”

Carol knew she should let him go. It really wasn’t her place to tell him Gigi had heard about his affair. She knew the man could be a jerk, but he’d never been anything but nice to her in his own gruff way. Her best friend was crazy about him, so she decided to give him a head’s up. “You’re going to wish it was that simple. There’s something you should know, Negan.” The football coach took the half dozen steps back to stand in front of her, holding eye contact until she finally divulged, “She just found out about your affair with Rosita.”

“Ahh, f*ck,” Negan groaned. “How?”

“Some of the teachers were talking about it.”

He was aggravated to find out someone had spilled the f*cking beans to his coworkers. Other than Merle, he hadn’t told anyone at Mount Vernon about his relationship with the Spanish teacher.“How the hell do they know?”

“Your former mistress has a big mouth, from what I gather. You know the saying about a woman scorned?”

“Well, if I didn’t before I do now,” Negan lamented irritably. He was pissed the woman was a f*cking blabbermouth. “f*ck, f*ck, and more f*ck.”

“f*ck is right. You better get home and do some serious damage control.”

“No f*cking kidding.”

Chapter 36: When It All Went To Hell

Chapter Text

Gigi spent her drive home from Terminus compartmentalizing her upset. Trying to heed Carol’s advice, she didn't want to jump to conclusions about Negan and Payton. Even so, learning he had been unfaithful to his wife had her questioning whether she had been foolish in thinking he was committed to their own relationship. He had been so adamant she belonged only to him, which had led her to assume he would be monogamous as well. It may have been a mistake to think so.

Groaning inwardly, Gigi pulled the SUV into her garage and made her way into the house. As she tried to sort out her feelings, she stripped out of her Under Armour ensemble and took a shower. She had to admit to herself she was disappointed to learn Negan had been unfaithful to his wife. She was also shocked, since he had given her noindicationhe and Lucille had had any problems in their marriage. She wondered what lead him to cheat on her. Gigi did know he hadn’t been able to share some vital parts of himself with his wife. Were there other issues which had led him to stray?

Michonne had mentioned Negan had broken off the affair when he found out Lucille had cancer. Would he have continued sleeping with Rosita if his wife hadn’t been terminally ill? What if she wasn’t the only woman he slept with while he was married? The thought popped into Gigi’s mind while she was brushing her teeth, and she almost choked on her toothpaste when she gasped out loud in response to the idea. The possibility was real and disheartening. His infidelity was twisting her stomach into knots. She didn’t want to be a hypocrite, since her marriage had obviously not been perfect, but she also was saddened at the news.

Payton’s kiss, and the fact Negan had left the bar with her were another matter which had her heart crawling into her throat. Her feelings had been hurt over the attention he had paid the pretty cheerleading coach and she was wondering what interest he held in the woman.

One thing Gigi knew for certain was she didn’t want to share him. More importantly, she needed him to be faithful to her. She needed to be the only woman he wanted.

__________

Negan didn’t know what the f*ck he was going to say to Gigi. He knew how his girl’s mind worked and he had no f*cking doubt her brain was going a mile a f*cking minute trying to process Payton laying lips on him. What his dancer had learned about him and Rosita would only exacerbate her upset, launching her brain cells into a f*cking frenzy. f*ck.

What could he f*cking say to her? He had spent his evening hanging out with Annandale’s hot cheerleading coach, right under the nose of the woman he was sleeping with. If he really f*cking thought about it, he had known his choice of drinking partners would likely get a rise out of Gigi. Maybe it was exactly what he had wanted to happen. Maybe it had pissed him off a little f*cking bit she had waltzed into Terminus with half of his department, congratulating him on his win in a very excited but detached, ‘I don’t want anyone to know I’m sleeping with you’ sort of way before she f*cking partied it up with his people at the other end of the bar. Maybe he was getting tired of being kept a big fat f*cking secret because of her need to mourn her husband for what she had deemed an appropriate time period. Her worry about what the world would think of her getting involved with someone so soon after Yuri’s death was getting seriously f*cking old.

If he was honest with himself, which he usually avoided so he didn’t have to be introspective, hekindaliked she was jealous. Now she knew how he felt watching thedanceypranceyf*cker practically suck on her damn toes, and how he felt watching her hang out with the asshole the night he came to town. He didn’t give a f*ck if he was being petty.

The strange thing was, he could reason the entire thing out in his mind and put a tit for f*cking tat spin on it, but it didn’t make a bit of f*cking difference. What trumped all his rationalization was the fact he couldn’t stand the idea he might have hurt her. Negan, you are such a f*cking bitch for her. Even as he was justifying his actions in his mind, he could feel the tightening of the satin ribbon around his nuts. It was forcing him to run to her like a big fat f*cking puss* and apologize.

Apologize? What the f*ck am I thinking?

You’re thinking you can’t live without her candy-coated snatch.

f*ck.

___________

He knew the moment he laid eyes on her she had overthought every f*cking thing she had seen and heard. He needed to reel her the f*ck in. What he didn’t know was exactly what he was going to say or do to make things right. He knew his actions had played on her insecurities, and he had been a c*nt for doing so. Doms made sure their subs felt safe and secure, they didn’t manipulate their insecurities. Even though he and Gigi were limiting their Dom-sub dynamic to the bedroom, he couldn’t expect her to trust him implicitly during a scene, and then toy with her trust outside of the bedroom.

Negan wasn’t good at words and feelings and apologies because he had never needed to be. He had expected everyone in his world to adjust their expectations to fit his comfort level. That sh*t wouldn’t fly if he wanted to dominate a submissive.

It also wouldn’t fly if he wanted to move forward in his relationship with Gigi. She had accepted his inability to spew romantic bullsh*t at her, yet he still managed to express, one way or another, how he felt about her.

‘Are you my best girl, Gigi?’

‘I need you to learn how to maneuver in a relationship without letting other men kiss your random body parts.’

‘This is f*cking mine, Gigi!’

Negan’s Domme had always been honest with him, admitting when she had made a mistake and apologizing to him. She had outright acknowledged she wasn’t perfect, and she wasn’t always right. He had loved that aspect of their relationship. It had allowed him to trust her. Unlike Rene, self-evaluation and deprecation were virtually untried in Negan’s interpersonal repertoire, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to add them.

Admit he had f*cked up? Meh. His Lucille had known better than to try to get him to admit when he was wrong. He had never outright told her he had been in the wrong. Ever.

Stepping into Gigi’s bedroom from the deck, he took a moment to read her. His powerhouse was standing in front of him, and she was pissed. Even so, while she was working hard on maintaining her tough exterior, his submissive girl was hovering right below the surface, trying not to show herself.

Negan had no f*cking idea how this was going to go, but he was going to cut right to the chase. “I should have told you about my affair with Rosita.” His girl stared at him, remaining silent. “It must have sucked for you to hear about it in the middle of a bar... from your friends.” Again, she failed to respond. Give me something to work with here, Gigi. I’m f*cking trying.

He found it difficult to put into words exactly what he wanted to say to her. sh*t. “And Payton asked me to walk her to her car,” he started to explain. “She was parked in an alley a couple of blocks away and she didn’t want to walk by herself in the dark ...”

“I bet she didn’t,” Gigi bit at him, wondering how he had found out she was aware of his affair. She knew her flip response wouldn’t help the situation, but she wanted him to know she was upset. Even though she felt she had no room to judge him, she couldn’t pretend she wasn’t hurt. She stopped herself from adding to her snarky comment and turned away from him. Opening her nightstand drawer, she pulled out a tube of face cream and unscrewed the lid while she attempted to get her emotions in check. Applying some moisturizer to her fingertips, she spread it on her face as she studied him silently.

“It was harmless,” Negan continued, trying to convince her. “I’m not interested in Payton.”

Shrugging her shoulders and co*cking her head in a ‘What can I say?’ gesture, she turned and tossed the cream back into the drawer. She avoided looking at him by walking to one of her mirrored closet doors to make sure she applied it evenly.

Negan was stymied by her response. “What the hell, Gigi?” She normally had a sh*t load to say when they were fighting or discussing something personal. It was starting to piss him the f*ck off she was shrugging off his attempt to explain himself, her silent treatment igniting him further. Speak when you’re f*cking spoken to.

Gigi wanted to call him on his perspective. Harmless? Really? Her head was swimming, full of both questions and the answers she was convinced must be true. Not having had adequate time to sort out her thoughts, she decided she wasn’t ready to talk to him yet. Not knowing how to respond, she ignored him, wanting to avoid a fight. She was tired and felt like she needed more time to think things through before they discussed the matter.

“Come on, Gigi. Give me something to work with, here,” he challenged her. Again, she said nothing. Speak when you are spoken to. How the f*ck were they going to fix things if she was going to shut down on him? It was so unlike her not to come back at him or try to put him in his place. He was stymied by her lack of retort. She always had a razor-sharp response when she felt she was right, always so f*cking sure of herself. Oh, f*ck. Big f*cking f*ck. You f*cked with her and now she’s not sure of herself.

That’s not it at all, you massive f*cking moron. Open your f*cking eyes. It's you she's unsure of.

Negan’s response came without thought. Knowing what he needed to do to engage her, he swiftly closed the distance between them. He drew himself up to his full height and walked up behind her. “What are the rules, Gigi?” he questioned her as he ran his hands down her arms. He was pleased when she immediately shifted her attention in the mirror from her own face to his eyes. When he took her hands in his and gently placed her palms on the mirror in front of her, his girl automatically spread her feet on the floor. Now we’re f*cking talking.

In an instant Gigi was calm. The two hundred and fifteen questions rattling around in her mind dissipated, and Negan was her focus. During their scene he had taught her to focus solely on him, and after the scene she had learned to use him to focus herself. They had been powerful lessons by an excellent teacher. Her body and brain were acting of their own accord in response to his commanding presence and her stance, just as she had learned. She welcomed it, since for the first time in her life she was at a loss as to how to respond.

She listed off the rules for him one by one, without hesitation. “I’ll use my safe word when I’m uncomfortable or need to stop. I will speak when I am spoken to. I will stay where you position me. I will be respectful, and I’ll always be honest.”

“Good girl,” Negan leaned in to whisper, nuzzling behind her earlobe in reward. “I’m going to explain some things to you, and you will listen to what I am telling you. You will respond when it is appropriate. The silent treatment you’re giving me isn’t acceptable.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He could feel her relaxing under his touch and his command as she centered herself. It suddenly became crystal clear what he needed to say to her. “I should have told you about my affair with Rosita. It sucked you had to hear about it from your friends. I'm sorry.” He could see her surprise at his apology. She obviously hadn’t been expecting it.

“Yes, it did.”

“And then you watched Payton hanging on me all night, and I didn’t do a thing to stop her,” he acknowledged. “Not only did I not stop her,Iwalked out of the bar with her, leaving you to wonder what the hell was going on.”

His girl nodded at him in the mirror, her eyes reflecting her irritation over the fact he knew exactly how his actions had affected her. Unhappy with her lack of a verbal response Negan raised an eyebrow at her in challenge. He could see her hackles rise and he watched the cords of muscle running down her long, graceful neck tighten in anger.

“No, Sir, you didn’t stop her,” his girl responded saucily, remembering a nod wasn’t an appropriate answer. If he wanted an answer, she would give him one. “And you didn’t stop her when she kissed you, and you didn’t say no to her when she asked you to walk her to her car at the end of yourdate .” Gigi was pushing his buttons, but she didn’t care. “Was Rosita the instigator in your relationship, too? Or did you express your interest first? Who chased who, that time around?”

“Heh,” Negan squinted at her, quelling his desire to bite her f*cking head off. The rules he had set insisted she speak when she was spoken to, and that she be honest with him, and much to his chagrin, she was being compliant.

Negan wanted to lash out at her. But then he looked at her reflection in the mirror, and he could see her hurt and uncertainty. He had insisted on their current dynamic to force her to talk to him, and he couldn’t abuse his power by laying into her. Keeping his cool façade, he turned away from her and walked across the room, giving himself time to calm down. He needed to make things right. He decided to tell her the truth. “I get it, Gigi. I get why you’re angry.”

Negan found it easier to speak his mind when Gigi was in submissive mode. He was in charge, and it was essential for a Dom to communicate effectively. Though they were not playing out a scene, he had stepped into the role in order to facilitate their conversation. He was relieved it was working, but the taste of his honestywas still f*cking bitter.

Gigi was again surprised, having expected his usual self-aggrandizement and minimization of her view of events. She didn’t know why he was suddenly so self-aware, but she wasn’t going to spend the time figuring it out. She was going to give him her honesty in return.

“I was jealous,” she quietly revealed. “Seeing you with her. And then people started talking about your affair with Rosita …”

“And it made you wonder if I was doing the same thing to you that I did to Lucille,” he finished her sentence. f*ck.

Negan crossed the room, wrapping himself around her from behind, part of him wanting to release her from her position, the other part of him needing to keep the control it provided. The lines of their Dom-sub dynamic were still being formed,and he could draw them out whatever f*cking way he wanted, as long as it didn’tchallenge one of her limits. He knew he wasn’t only trying to ensure her verbal responses. He needed the control being her Dom provided because he had willingly become her marionette, practically dancing at the end of her purple satin f*cking strings. Keeping some modicum of overt controlmade it easier to accept he was royally whipped.

Before Gigi, Negan had never fallen in love. I f*cking love her. He had always strolled into it at a leisurely pace. The two times he had been in love, he had determined the women were worthy of his affection and eventually decided to put a label on what he felt for them. In his mind, the fact he decided whether he could or would love them had not lessened the validity of what should have been a random, unplanned occurrence. He had known what was happening between he and Gigi was different than anything in his past, and he’d been wary of it, but in the end he had become Michael f*cking Flately, Lord of the f*cking Dance, doing an Irish jig on the end of her satin ribbons in his goddamn head band and bedazzled jacket.

“Speak when you’re spoken to,” he softly reminded Gigi when she failed to respond, simply keeping her eyes on his in the reflection in the mirror.

“You’ve made me promise you, again and again, that I belong only to you,” Gigi finally explained, “and I was happy to do it. It might be old fashioned, but I like being yours, Negan. I like your possessive side. I love the idea I inspire it in you.

“It wasn’t until you left the bar with Payton, I realized you’ve never committed to me in the same way. You’ve never told me you’re mine.”

After a split-second review of the instances when he hadinsistedshepledgeher fidelity to him, Negan was not surprised in the least to realize she was right. Oh, sh*t. He had no good response, yet he needed to answer her. He couldn’t ignore the rules he had insisted she adhere to when they had started their discussion. Speak when you’re f*cking spoken to.

His girl preempted him. “You were married, Negan, and you slept with someone else. Am I foolish for assuming you’ll be faithful to me, simply because you insisted I be faithful to you? Or do you have your own, separate set of rules to live by in this relationship that I need to be aware of?” she questioned him in the mirror. “I think it’s only fair you let me in on them, so I can decide for myself if I can live with them or not.”

Negan hated the matter of fact tone she was using. She sounded perfectly f*cking reasonable while she called him a deceitful prick in her eloquent way. “Was Yuri aware you were in love with his best buddy during your entire marriage? Did you let Yuri in on your rules?” he retorted, even though he already knew the answer to the question.

Despite the fact he had just cut her down, Gigiinstinctively followed the rules he had set for her. “Mercy!” she growled at him, spinning around to face him. Fully focused, she wanted to talk to him face to face. Negan stepped back from her, nodding his understanding of her use of their safe word.

There was more to his question than defensiveness, she knew. He was trying to bring her down to his level. He wanted to shift the focus away from himself. Away from something worse. The discussion was getting too close to something he didn’t want to talk about. She knew the tactic since Yuri had used it often when they argued.

“Rosita wasn’t the only affair you had while you were married, was she?” she guessed. Her stomach churned as the idea washed over her like a wave of frigid water. “It was just the only affair your workmates were aware of.” Unable to look at him any longer, she turned and walked away from him.

Watching his girl crawl back into her own headspace, Negan followed her. Turning her to face him, he ducked his head so he was in her line of vision, though it was uncomfortable as f*ck for her to scrutinize him so intensely. He was impelled to keep her close. Feeling as if she was slipping from his grasp, he took a half step into her before he responded to her statement. “You’re right. Rosita wasn’t the only one.” He felt he owed her the truth.Be honest.

“How many were there?” Gigi murmured defeatedly, again trying to avoid his gaze. Her physical pull towards him was strong, despite wanting to distance herself from him. He knew it, which was why he had stepped into her space. She had never been able to hide being unwittingly drawn to him or how his closeness affected her.

Using two fingers he turned her head back to him, answering her with a question of his own. “Does it make a difference?” Negan could feel himself sinking, and he could feel his dancer’s energy shifting. A wall was going up between them and his girl was the one constructing it. He needed to f*cking break it down. Rule number five: Be honest. “A half dozen, maybe?”

“Maybe? Maybe?” she prodded him without malice. “You mean you don’t know for sure how many times you cheated on your wife?” Her despair was rising. “Or are you telling me cheating on your wife was so inconsequential to you, so second nature, that you didn’t even bother to pay attention?” She knew her upset was starting to show, but she didn’t care. She had been trying to not to be judgmental, since she knew she was less than perfect herself, but what he was revealing was so far outside the realm of what she had expected, her attempts to remain rational were failing miserably.

Gigi wanted to ask him if he’d had relationships with all six women, or whether Rosita was the first one he had slept with on a regular basis. She wanted to ask him if Lucille had ever found out about any of his affairs and whether his wife had ever been unfaithful to him. She wanted to ask him if he had cheated because he had needed something his wife couldn’t give him and whether he had found what he had longed for, in the arms of the other women.

She knew, however, none of those answers really mattered to her. There was only one thing she needed to know, one question she needed to ask, and she was afraid to hear his answer. Turning to him, she was devastated by the thought their short time together might be coming to an end. “Do you even want to commit to me, Negan? Maybe there’s a reason why you haven’t said the words to me,” she questioned before going on to confess, “I need you to want to be faithful to me. I need to be everything you ever want or need. I can’t live my life wondering why I’m not enough.”

“Of course, I want to be faithful to you, Gigi,” Negan tried to reassure her. Hereally f*ckingwanted to be faithful to her.

A sad smile turned up the corners of her mouth as she took him in. He had spit her words right back at her in response, telling her what she thought she wanted to hear, but he hadn’t really said what she needed to hear. With a shake of her head she repeated, “You want to be faithful to me.” Does he even know how?

“Of course, I do! Come on, Gigi. You really don’t know whether I want to be faithful to you?”Negan soundedastonished she doubted how he felt about her.

She could read the moment he truly understood what she needed to hear, his eyes leaving hers and flitting around the room. After a long period of silence he acknowledged, “It’s not about whether I want to be faithful to you. You want to know if I can be faithful to you. Whether I can guarantee you I won’t cheat on you.”

“Six times, Negan. Six times isn’t a lapse in judgement or a woeful mistake. It’s a pattern,” Gigi defined for him gently. “Was it a habit you had a hard time breaking?” A tear rolled down her cheek when she added, “Or maybe you didn’t want to break it?”

Her time with her Someday rolled through her mind as she looked into his eyes, only inches from hers: how they met, the fights at work, how they finally came together, their amazing physical connection, their scene. She had let Misha walk away from her, wanting to commit to the man in front of her. She wanted to be in a monogamous relationship with the man she loved. She had known early on, despite their differences and due to their differences, Negan was everything sheneeded in a man; something neither YuriorMisha had ever been. It was breaking her heart to think she might not be enough for him.

“I know my own marriage had issues, Negan, and it doesn’t matter that everyone involved was content with the situation. I’m not perfect, by any means, so I would never judge you, but I made a choice the night of the awards. I chose you over Misha because I want to be with you. Only you. But I’m getting the distinct feeling you either don’t want to commit to me, or you can’t commit to me.”

f*ck. She was on to him. She had him f*cking pegged. Each time he had cheated on Lucille he had sworn to himself he wouldn’t do it again. He had told himself it was the last time and there would be no more excuses. He would be the kind of husband his wife deserved. In the end he had never lived up to his promises to himself.

Negan wanted to tell Gigi this time would be different, since his relationship with her was different. She was different. He wanted to tell her this time he would be faithful since she inspired the f*cking best in him. He wanted to convince her what they shared was better than anything he had ever had the f*cking pleasure of experiencing with anyone else. He wanted to tell her it would be different because she was the one.

Negan couldn’t promise her, though, because he didn’t know if he could be the person she needed him to be. He had never tried to be that person. He had always been a f*cking loser, as his father so loved to remind him.

Speak when you are spoken to, asshole. “I don’t know what to say.” He stared at her long and hard, willing the words he thought could make it all better to come out of his mouth. Always be honest. “I love you, Gigi. I want to be faithful to you.” He wanted to tell her he could and would be monogamous. If he said it, he would mean it. He just didn’t know if he would end up making a f*cking liar out of himself.

The tears Gigi had been trying to hold back finally let loose. Reaching out to cup his chin in her palm, she rubbed her thumb over his lips as she worked to stifle her crying. She had wanted so desperately to hear Negan express his feelings for her, but never in all her fantasies had she imagined they might be followed by, '... but I don’t know if you are enough to keep me from straying.''

Her shoulders slumped in defeat. While she wanted todefine exactly what he was trying to say, he had already made himself clear. She just didn’t want to hear it. Or believe it. Gigi knew it was over, and she felt her heart breaking into pieces.

Diving into his arms, she pulled him down to her for a kiss, needing to physically say goodbye. She needed to show him how she felt about him before she let him go. As much as she loved him, she knew she couldn’t continue their relationship if she couldn’t trust him. It would be difficult to believe the words she had so longed to hear if she knew he might, at some point, say them to her while he was sleeping with another woman.

Negan was caught off guard. His tiny dancer kissed him passionately, her hunger for him abundantly clear. She kissed him sweetly and softly, her feelings for him conveyed with no hint of doubt. She grazed his lips and nipped them, making his breath her own, showing him the glimmer of their undeniable heat. He let her share herself, following her lead, relieved she was reassuring him they would be able to work things out.

It wasn’t until she murmured a sorrowful, “I love you, too, Negan,” as her lips glided along his, and he felt another tear run onto his cheek that he understood what she was truly telling him. It felt like a punch to the gut. He couldn’t believe he had f*cked things up so badly, before he had even done anything to f*ck them up. Knowing he shouldn’t try to change her mind, he wasn’t going to let her end their relationship without getting his two cents in.

Gigi hummed contentedly when her Negan took control. She felt his long fingers wrap around the back of her thighs and he lifted her effortlessly, bringing her up to his height so she was eye to eye with him.

“I need to show you, Gigi ...” he murmured against her jawline before mouthing down her throat to her collarbone. “...how much. Can I?”

She couldn’t resist his plea. She didn’t want to. Threading her fingers into the hair at his crown she pulled his head up, nodding in response when his eyes met hers. “Please!” What she had intended as a steadfast request came out as breathy and desperate plea, instead.

Her Negan smiled at her, nodding in acknowledgment of both her response and her emotion before he laid her on the bed. Crawling over her, he nuzzled behind her ear with his nose, knowing it would make his girl swoon. “You make my heart f*cking sing Gigi,” he confessed in a whisper.

Taking a moment to breathe in her scent and enjoy feel of her beneath him as he liked to do, he finally dove into her, showing her exactly how he felt about her. What she meant to him. What he would be missing without her. What he loved about her. He needed her to know, above all else, their time together had meant everything to him. Every. f*cking. Thing. The least he could do was show her, since was too much of a f*cking toddler to say the words.

He worshipped his dancer; his hands and his mouth taking a languid journey across every luscious inch of her skin. He felt her and her tasted her and loved her in the best f*cking way he knew how, allowing himself to f*cking drown in her. He ate up every moan, and whimper and cry, feeling each one, like the puss* whipped f*ck he was for her, needing her validation one last time. Each time she tried to focus on his pleasure, he thwarted her efforts, turning the attention back on her, wanting her to miss him when he was gone. Wanting her to remember how good he was to her. How great they were together.

Gigi had always known Negan was the master of the female body. From start to finish he physically reminded her he was the master of her body, deliberately reminding her how very well he knew her and the fact he had been the only man who had ever pleasured her so completely.

In onemomentshe delighted in his caress. In the next he left her frantic for his touch. It made her wonder how she would live without it. And him, her beautiful Negan. She pushed the thought aside, not wanting any tears to dampen their lovemaking. Shewould have plenty of time to wallow in her sorrow later, when she finally let thefacthe was gone settle into her soul.

“My good girl,” Negan cooed when she shuddered in her org*sm from the expert strokes of his tongue between her folds.

“My best f*cking girl,” he praised her as he came, buried deep inside her, her legs wrapped around his back and herherfingers digging into the back of his neck.

Negan wanted to be sure he fed her everything she needed and f*cking loved, since she unknowingly had always done the same for him. Keeping the focus on her also helped him ignore the tight as f*ckbandwhich was constricting around his chest, causing it tof*ckingache.

_________

His girl had fallen asleep on his chest, clinging to him after he f*cked her for the last time. He relished the feel of her, running his fingers through her hair, and over her back, lamenting the fact it would be the last time and letting himself hurt at the thought. She eventually rolled off him, squirming in her sleep until she was laying on her side facing him. Studying her in the moonlight one last time, he whispered, “My good, good f*cking girl. The only one.” He knew the sentiment was true. He would never call another woman his good girl. No one else would ever be f*cking able to fill her purple satin shoes.

Chapter 37: Tell Ol' Merle About It

Chapter Text

Maybe I should have given him more of a chance to explain himself.

Gigi took a big bite of her glazed donut.

God, I forgot how good these are!

Swiping her finger through the pink icing on another one of the donuts in the bakery box, she tasted it, cringing at the sickening sweet strawberry flavor. “Well, that’s a big no,” she lamented to the empty room. The kids were out with friends for the day, so she had plenty of space to wallow in her sorrow and self-pity.

Would it have made a difference, Gigi?

She definitely liked the one filled with apple the best and the chocolate iced second, but the glazed donutwas a very close third. Setting asidethestrawberry donut, she took a bite of one with vanilla icing, savoring its sugary, deep fried goodness.

That’s the real question.

Moving to the counter, she pulled her supersized mug of coffee from the Keurig. She needed some caffeine. Lack of sleep was making it hard for her to get moving, and she had a million things she needed to get done.

What do you think he could have said that would have made you change your mind, had you given him the chance?

Negan had finally unwrapped himself from her at three in the morning and dropped his legs over the edge of the bed. Opening her eyes, she’d watched him, without stirring, while he searched for his clothes in the dark. She hadn’t wanted him to leave, yet she knew saying goodbye in the light of day would be more awkward and more painful. After dressing he had turned back to her, obviously sensing she was awake. “I'm sorry, Gigi," he murmured in the dark.

“Me too, Negan.”

He had nodded silently, reaching out to run his thumb over her lips before he turned to go.

__________

Merle reeled in his second rockfish, prodding Negan while he loosened the hook from its mouth, “You got some sh*t to figure out, amigo. I waswonderin’ how long it’d takeyata realize you need to do better by Gigi than you did Lucille.” Finally freeing the metal, he tossed the wriggling fish into the basket sitting on the bottom of the boat between them and fastened the lid. “Not that Lucille deservedyerbullsh*t either, but she never figured that out. Yer dancer knows she deserves better.”

Negan’shead whipped around from where he had been looking out over the water and he squinted at his buddy, his unspoken question hanging in the air between them.

“Lucille wasn't stupid, man,” Merle continued answering the silent query. “Yathink she didn’t know you werebumpin’uglieswith other women on the side? She just never calledyaon it.”

“What makes you so sure she knew?” the coach prodded him, agitated at the idea his wife might have known about his infidelities. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her, as contradictory as the notion seemed.

“She wasn’t clueless, ya asshole. Ya know it just like I do. Whenever ya told her you were crashin’ at my place so ya could screw around, she always ended up fishin’ for info the next time I was at yer place, so she could check behind ya.”

“Why the f*ck didn’t you tell me that at the time?”

“Would it a made a differ’nce? Ya know I covered yer ass for ya.”

Neganwas silent for a moment before he admitted, “I really don’t know. f*ck. I’d like to think I would have stopped f*cking around if I knew she was being hurt by it, but I probably would have just tried to be sneakier.I’m sucha f*cking asshole.”

“Yeah, ya woulda and yeah ya are, but what else is new? Ya know Lucille made a choice when she didn’t do anything about yer cheatin'. Hell, I don’t think she ever admitted to ‘erself you were screwin’ around,” Merle theorized. “I think it was ‘cause she could live with the one-night stands. Ya know she never thought she was good enough fer ya, so she felt yer screwin’ around might be the thing keepin’ ya from leavin’ ‘er fer good.”

The redneck shook his head at his buddy, waving off the anger starting to roll in his direction at the suggestion Lucille wasn’t up toNegan'sstandards. “Don’t look at me like that! I know you were the one who lucked out,suckerin’ a woman like thatintamarryin’ya. She’ s the one who wasn’t sure.Yaknow it,sure’sI do. She never thought she was enough ta keepyahappy. She worshippedyaman, and she was sureyaweregonnafigure out any minuteya’dmade a mistake in notmarryin’ someone she thought was up onyerlevel,” he theorized. “So even though she thoughtyamight bescrewin’ around behind ‘erback, she never calledyaon it. She didn’twannamakeyaaskyerselfwhether you’d made a mistake inmarryin’ ‘er.”

“f*ck, I ...”Neganhad wanted to believe Lucille was clueless about his infidelity, but he knew everything his buddy was saying to him was true. Studying the man, he questioned, “Since when did you get so f*cking insightful?”

Merle chuckled at the half assed compliment, returning, “I’m not as stupid as I look, amigo. I watch, I listen ‘n I learn.” The pair sat in silence for several minutes before he tried to reassure the coach, “Don’t gostewin’ inyerguilt ‘n ruin my Saturdaymornin’fishin’ trip. Like I said, she knew but she didn’t know for sure ‘til Rosita,‘causeshe didn’twanna. That way she could keepyaup onyerdamn pedestal, and hermarriage’dkeepmovin’ forward.”

The dose of reality he was feeding the coach was one only a best friend could give a man without getting his lights knocked out. The asshole needed to hear it, though. He needed to sort out his sh*t out if he wanted a shotatmaking things work with Gigi.

Lucille had been a good woman. Like he’d told the man over and over, she was Negan’s better half, for damn sure. She had treated Merle like family, which he had appreciated. But it was easy to see the dancer was better for the jerk.

“I’d still like to know how she figured out about Rosita,”Neganreplied curiously.

“Like I said, she wasn’t stupid.”

__________

Rifling through the cabinet above the coffee machine, Gigi pulled out the sugar bowl from the back of the shelf and set it on the counter. Dipping into it, she put a heaping spoon full into her coffee and stirred it.

Nothing. There is nothing he could have said to change your mind.

Carrying the bowl and her cup of coffee back to the island, she sat on her bar stool and took another bite of her donut and took a drink of her coffee, humming with contentment.

It doesn't make a difference because he couldn’t say it, Gigi. He literally couldn’t say what you would have needed to hear in order to give him a chance.

Pulling the spoon out of her coffee, she dipped it back into the sugar bowl, watching the drops of coffee clump up in little balls in the dish as she scooped up another teaspoon full. Oops.

He wanted to. At least he wanted to say it. Or he looked like he wanted to say it. Didn’t it?

Dropping the sugar into her coffee, she stirred it again. And again. Trying to ignore the ache inside her as she turned her discussion withNeganover in her mind. And again, clanking the utensil against the inside of the mug until she was annoyed with the sound of it.

He just couldn’t. Like he was unsure of whether he could be faithful. Ever. Was it that he doubted that I would hold his interest, which would lead him to cheat, or was it that he knew he lacked whatever it took to be monogamous? T hat’s just BS.

Neganhad seemed apologetic and frustrated at his own inability to guarantee his fidelity. The idea was unfathomable to her. In Gigi’s mind, you either wanted to commit and did it, or you didn't want to commit.

Why is he so unsure? Does he get bored? Is he searching for something he’ll never find?

“Ahhh, sh*t,” a male voice lamented behind her. “Thatain’ta damn donutyerputtin’ inyermouth, is it?” Sliding open the screen door without invitation, Merle stepped into Gigi’s kitchen. Looking over her shoulder at her breakfast choice, he declared dramatically, “Donuts for lunch? Lord, have mercy! She’s gone ta the dark side.” Getting a mug from the cabinet, he put it and a pod in the coffee maker and pressed the button. Sitting down next to her at the island he eyeballed her when she took an extra big bite of her donut, glaring at him as she pointedly chewed and swallowed.

“I’m gonna take pictures an’ post ‘em on Twitter,” he goaded her with a grin, using two fingers to push the pastry back towards her mouth while he raised his phone in front of her, then laughed when she slapped his hand away. “You ate eight of ‘em?” He chided her after counting how many donuts were missing from the box. “That bad, huh?”

“I didn’t eat all of those myself, Merle,” Gigi informed him as if the accusation was preposterous. “Hannah had half of one before she left … and I didn’t finish this one.” She pointed to the pink pastry sitting on the granite next to her.

_________

“Lucille did call me on my sh*t with Rosita. She asked me to stop f*cking around with her,”Neganfinally admitted to Merle after a half hour of silence. He had never told the man his wife had begged him to end his affair. “For some reason she finally decided to say something.” He cast his line back into the water before adding, “Maybe because she was dying. She said she wanted it to be just me and her until she died.”

Merle co*cked an eyebrow at him. “Think again, amigo.” Several minutes passed before the coach finally caught on. The man might be an asshole, but he was smart asshole.

“She finally spoke up because Rosita was different,” Negan pieced together after a few minutes. “Because she wasn’t just a one-night stand. Somehow she figured out what I’d been up to all those nights I came home late. She thought I cared about Rosita because I screwed around with her more than once. She felt threatened. That’s why she finally called me on my f*cking cheating.”

“Well, give that man apriiiize,” Merle drawled, reeling his line in so he could check his bait and lure. “Didyatell her what she needed ta hear?”

“That Rosita couldn’t hold a candle to her?” his buddy elaborated incredulously. “Yes, you moron!” After a moment he calmed, shaking his head in disbelief at the memory of his wife’s generosity. “And shef*ckingforgave me.”

“That’s the difference between Lucille andyerballerina,yaknow,” Merle finally had the opportunity to make his point. “Gigi wouldn’t be able ta forgiveya.”

Neganknew the f*cker was right.Problemwas,it didn’t make a difference. She had dumped his ass.

__________

“Tell ol’ Merle about it,” Gigi’s buddy encouraged her, his tone dramatically sympathetic. “What’s got ya lookin’ all pathetic this afternoon?”

Scowling at his insult, she questioned, “Negan told you what happened?”

“Yep. Sad Sack told me ya dumped ‘im.” He dropped his usual five teaspoons of sugar in his coffee, stirring it while he waited for her to unload on him.

In a warped way, Gigi was comforted at the news Negan sounded as miserable as she felt over their breakup. “And he told you why?” she prodded. Her initial concern over dividing Merle’s loyalties by talking about her relationship was gone. He knew Negan better than anyone, and she needed to pick his brain.

“Yep.” Merle offered her no more, waiting to see where she led the conversation.

She was quiet for a time, making him a cup of coffee, and sliding a napkin across the island at him so he could join her for her carbohydrate and fat ladenlunch.After careful consideration, he picked a maple iced donut with crumbled bacon sprinkled on top, taking a bite of it while he waited for the questions he knew would come.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” she admitted.

“Yawannaknow why he cheated on Lucille,” the redneck guessed. “Andyerwonderin’ if he’d even know how ta be faithful toya.”

Gigi’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. His guesses were spot on. “How do you …"

“I’ve hadmore’none woman ask me the samekindaquestions about ma own bad habits,” he cut across her.

“I knew you told me you weren’t the type to settle down, but I didn’t know you had a hard time being faithful.”

“I used ta,” Merle explained.“Ifig’redout early I wasn’t a onewoman man, so I stoppedtryin” ta be one.S’whyI play the field. I don’t have ta make any promises I can’t keep. That’s thediffer’ncebetween me ‘nNegan, I guess.”

“So you don’t thinkNeganwants to settle down with one woman?”Gigi questioned, trying to understand Merle’s point. Theidea her someday might not even be interested in being in a relationship long termwas disheartening.

Why are you even worried about it, Gigi? He couldn’t commit to you. You need to get over him and move on.

But it’s not that easy.

“Oh, he wants ta,” Merle confided without revealing anything the dancer didn’t already know. He knitted his brow while he considered his friend’s behavior. “He just thinks he can’t.” Taking another bite of his donut he informed her, “He loved Lucille,yaknow.He really did.He doesn’t know why the hell he did what he did and now he’sgot that ‘once a cheater, always a cheater’ thing stuck in his head. He doesn’t trust ‘imselfta make a promise he thinks he might not be able ta keep.Yagottagive him points for notwantin’ ta liet’ya, Gigi. Hecouldatoldyawhatyawanted ta hear,yaknow. Itwouldamade things a hell of a lot easier. And yawouldabelieved him, wouldn’tya?”

“I would have, because I wanted to hear it.” Looking down at her cup she added, “And I trust him.”

“He knows that,darlin’, and he didn’twannatake advantage of it.”

“The weird thing is, I do appreciate him being honest with me,” shereturned, shaking her head as if she didn’t understand it. She took a drink of her coffee,thinkingfor a moment before she observed, “He didn’t even do that for his wife. It wassostrange, Merle.He acted like he wanted to tell me he would be faithful to me. It’s probably just wishful thinking on my part, but he seemed agitated he couldn’t do it.”

“Nah. Itain’twishfulthinkin’.” Merle had read the same thing on the man, but he wasn’t going to tell her so, outright.“The asshole’s crazy ‘boutya.”

Gigi nodded,relieved to hear her intuition was correct. The problem was it didn’t change anything. It just tugged at her heartstrings more.“His uncertainty isa cop out as far as I’m concerned.” Gigi allowed herself to sound annoyed withNegan, having only so much sympathy for him. She had spent her morningvacillatingbetween sadness, confusion and anger. At the moment her scale was tipping towards anger.

“Yep,” Merle agreed. “He just hasn’tfiggeredthat out yet.”

Gigi nodded, shifting the focus back to the man in front of her. “You don’t ever want to be in a monogamous relationship?” She was having a hard time understanding how he didn’t get lonely, and why he didn’t look at a long-term relationship as something desirable.

“Nah,” he rebutted. “Not after watching what marriage did ta my mom.” He took a drink of his coffee before he added, “It was greatferma dad. He goteverythin’ he neededouttamarriage. A regular piece a ass and apunchin’ bag.” Merle shook his head, trying to rid himself of the memories of the abuse he had witnessed in his home.

“So, you never got to see the wonderful parts of a good marriage,” Gigi pieced together. Merle had revealed his father was abusive while they were having coffee one morning in her office at school. She didn’t prod him for more information, but simply listened when he dropped more details as the weeks went on. “The normal parts or the comforting parts,” she expanded. “I was lucky, growing up with parents who had a good relationship. I suppose I took it for granted how fortunate I was.”

Merle didn’t want to give the dancer details about Negan’s life the coach might not want to share, but he thought it would be okay to reveal, “Ya know I saw a thing on tv about how ya end up takin’ on the same type a habits yer parents have. Ya know, with yer kids an' wife. It makes sense ‘cause they’re the only example ya got, far as that goes.Yer boyfriend an’ I had sh*tty examples to follow. We’re just dealin’ with it in differ’nt ways. I just don’t get involved. Negan does, he just makes a damn mess a things.” He smirked at his buddy’s plight, shaking his head.

“We never discussed his parents at length,” Gigi shared. “He mentioned he and his father didn’t get along, but then we went on to talk about something else,” Gigi thought back to the discussion they’d had about their parents a few weeks before.Neganhad told her she was lucky she was so close with Estelle andJaques. He hadn’t gone into detail about his parents, other than mentioning his father was difficult.

“Ta say they weren’t close was a understatement,” Merle revealed.

Gigi tried to figure out why her friend had brought up the matter. She wanted to pick his brain about why and how he thoughtNegan’shomelifemight have influenced his current relationship habits, but somehow, she suspected what he had told her so far was all he was going to offer her for the time being. It was clear she had assumed correctly when he put his coffee cup down on the countertop and got up to leave.

Running the knuckles of one hand gently across her cheek Merle advised, “Don’t give up on ‘im,amiga. Thisain’tgotnothin’ ta do with you. He’s got some sh*t ta sort out. And ‘e knows he needs ta do it. He just needs some time.”

Gigi nodded thoughtfully, hoping he was right, but also wondering if she would be foolish to think she could have a happily ever after withNegan. “I adore you. You know that don’t you?” she teased her friend, appreciating his candor during their discussion.

“Don’t start thatkindash*t, woman,” he fussed at her, heading to the sliding door, “or I’ll break up withya.” He smiled to himself over Gigi’s chuckle as he stepped onto the deck and closed the slider behind himself. “Ya hadtago and ruin a good thing with some sentimental bullsh*t …" The chuckle turned to laughter as he made his way to the stairs.

___________

What the f*ck is wrong with me? Why couldn’t I just say the f*cking words? Tell her what she wanted to hear? Neganknew exactly why he hadn’t told Gigi what she needed to hear.

Rule number five. Always be honest.

He had insisted she follow his five rules. If he expected her to live by them, he needed to do the same. He and Rene had agreed on a similar set of rules they followed in and out of the bedroom. It was part of the Dom/sub relationship dynamic. She had expected open communication, insisting it was a must, but honesty wasn’t in her list of rules. It was assumed.

Negan wasfairly certainhis possessiveness and guilty f*cking conscience had influenced him to tack honesty onto the end of his list for Gigi. It hadn’t only been a - you need to be honest with me if you don’t like something I’m doing during a scene - rule. It also ensured she never messed with the Russian prick, or any other prick ever again. Gigi had agreed to therule, andhe knew her well enough to know she would always be one hundred percent honest with him.

Rule number five had also been a measure put in place to guarantee he didn’t break her trust. It would stop him from being the same lying prick he had been with Lucille. When his girl had challenged him about being faithful, he had adhered to his rule. Unsure if he would be telling the truth, his sorry ass wouldn’t make her a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep. He found it interesting, in his Dom/sub relationships he wouldn’t consider lying, yet in the relationship with his wife, where rules had not been verbally specified, it had been easier for him to slip.

Why he couldn’t tell his girl he would be monogamous, he didn’t know. Or maybe hef*ckingdid. He was convinced he would never cheat on Gigi. He couldn’t imagine himself ever wanting or needing to stray. On the other hand, he also knew he had had a history of good intentions. His follow through was what sucked ass.

The coach had cheated on his wife throughout their marriage. Sporadic one-night standspepperedtheir twenty something years together. First it was the mother of one of his football players. Then the cashier at the local liquor store. A co*cktail waitress at the local pub. A woman he met while drinking at the bar of the same pub. An old college fling he had run into while running errands. The nurse at his doctor’s office.The woman with the amazingtitt*eswho did the books at the auto shop. Theyhadallbeeninformed up front he was only looking for some instant gratification, and they shouldn’t expect the wondrous gift of sex with the incomparableNeganto ever happen again.

Rosita had been different, and he knew exactly why. Once he had f*cked around with the other women, he made it a point to avoid coming in contact with them again. He hadn’t wanted to pretend he cared enough to ask how they were doing or see the disappointed look on their faces when hetotallyavoided conversing with them.Rosita couldn’t be avoided.Hehad told herat the starthe was content in his marriage and only looking for aone-timepiece of ass with no strings attachedandshehad seemed okay with his caveat.

Before they started screwing around, hehad runinto the woman a handful of times during the school yearat staff meetings, orin the teacher’s lounge when he would make his way to the other end of the building to get a can of lemonade and a bag of chips from the vending machines. Her classroom was at the other end of the school, and she hung out with a different set of teachers thanthephysedgroup.Neganhad been sure, trying to avoid her would be no problem. Or so he’d thought.

After he f*cked her for the first time, she had left him alone for exactly two days before she showed up at his office during his free period, blatantly offering herself up for the taking right then and there. “ Get another taste of some fine Mexican cuisine? Why the f*ck not?” he had reasoned with himself at the time.

Simon had spied thebedraggledwomanas she leftthe footballcoach’s office after a quickieonthedesk. Hehad warned his friend heneeded tobe more careful.Neganhad realizedthe manwas right. Anyone could have spotted her leaving his office. Anyone, who if they had half a brain in their head, could figure out what was going on between him and the Spanish teacher.Most of his coworkersknew Lucille. His wife had attended plenty of school functions with him over the years, and they had hosted Mount Vernon staff parties often enough foreveryoneto become friendly withher.He had not only been concerned about them finding out about the affair, but also worried someone would rat him out to his wife.

Deciding to eliminate the possibility,Neganhad tried to break things off with Rosita. In response to his concerns, she easily convinced him they could meet up at her apartment and no one would be the wiser. It was an offer he couldn’t refuse. Mainly because he reallyhadn’t wanted to. He had continued to screw around with her at her apartment, for months.

The affair probably would have gone on indefinitely had Lucille not gotten sick.WhenhisMexican side dishhad complained he was spending too much time with his fatally ill wife,whatever hethoughthe had seenin the woman had flown out thewindow in response to herself-centeredgriping.

There were more than six women. There were nine f*cking women. Oh, sh*t. And the pest control woman I f*cked on the patio after discussing the mosquito problem in the area. Ten f*cking women. Why? Why the f*ck can’t I keep my dick in my pants?

Do I even wanna keep my dick in my pants? Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe my dick isn’t happy in my pants or inside the same woman all the f*cking time. Maybe the little bastard needs a change of scenery on the regular. More variety than one woman can give him.

Neganhad thought he was fairly satisfied with his sex life with Lucille. With a little distance, however, and after being involved with his spunky little dancer who satisfied and understood him so much more completely, he could now see why he’d f*cked around on his wife. Not that he was making excuses for inexcusable behavior.

He felt more than a little bit of guilt admitting to himself she was not the best sex partner. It felt disrespectful, picking apart his dead wife’s weaknesses. He and Lucille had gotten along very well outside the bedroom, sharinggreatconversations and a load of laughs. She had also been a great source of comfort when he was stressed out in general, or having a hard time dealing with his father. His wife had taken crazy good care of him in so many f*cking ways, he felt bad for singling out her one weakness. He couldn’t ignore it though, since it had been a big problem for him. Her propensity to turn her nose up at things she considered sexually vulgar had stopped him from sharing the best of his sexual playbook with her. It had left him constantly yearning for more. The truth, plain and simple, wasNeganneeded an exciting sex life. I’m all about the f*cking sex. I have no f*cking problem owning it.

Dirty, hot sex on a regular basis. Every f*cking man’s dream. Rene had spoiledNeganin that regard. He had been a happy f*cking boy while he was subbing for her. His sexual relationship with her was so far above and beyond what he could ever have expected with Lucille for one main reason. He’d never had to rein inhis desireswith hisDomme. Theirf*ckerywas anything but vanilla.

In retrospect, he and Lucille had been a poor match when it came to sex. She was very vanilla, while he preferred a f*ck ton more flavor. He was more of a caramel turtle fudge, or cardamom gelato kind of guy.

I need variety. A change of scenery now and again. At least I did with Lucille. But would I feel my sex life was missing something if I had scenery that included an ice cream shop with over thirty-one sexual flavors to choose from? Gigi had made it clear to him, while she enjoyed some good vanilla, as long as it could be special ordered it didn’t need to be kept in stock. My girl's f*cking perfect for me

Of all the womenNeganhad f*cked in his lifetime, Gigi was the only one who had a magic puss* and was willing to taste test thirty-one licentious flavors with him. It put her in a class by herself. What f*cking idiot would let that go?

He laid out all the pieces in his mind of why he was so enamored with his dancer. One, she had the coveted mystical snatch. Two, she had not nixed one new thing he had introduced her to. Her list of hard limits were right in line with his own. We like the same f*cking flavors. Had she expressed a bit of concern over some things? Sure, she had. But as he had noted from the start, the word no didn’t seem to be in her sexual dictionary. At least it hadn’t popped up yet. Three, his dancer was willing to try things outside of her comfort zone because she wanted to make him happy. She got off on his pleasure. Does it get any f*cking better than that? f*ck to the hell no.

___________

What about the sex? Will I ever be able to find insanely good sex again in my lifetime if he doesn’t get his act together? How in the world would I go about finding a lover who is into the same level of BDSM, is exceptionally talented at butt play, is okay with the fact I’m a high maintenance, obsessive compulsive princess, and who does that little thing with the tip of his tongue on the tip of my cl*tor*s? Can you teach a manthingslike that? Negan makes it seem like a God given talent. What if God hasn’t been as generous in handing out those talents to other men?

Gigi didn’t want to have toe curling sex with another man. She wantedNegan. Darn it! Her anger was back. Since when did Mister Type A control freak become so wishy-washy? He doesn’t have a wishy-washy bone in his body. You either want to commit or you don’t.

But if he is worried he can’t, because of his history ...

You’re making excuses for him, Gigi. Is my insistence on commitment unreasonable? No. It’s what I need . Who wouldn’t? Is there a woman on the face of the earth who would say, “You do what you need to do, sweetheart, just be sneaky about it because I don’t want to know.” No! No, there’s not. I have no desire to be in a relationship with a man who doesn’t love me enough to be faithful. That is not unreasonable.

Would I even trust him if he promised he wouldn’t cheat? She would believe he was being honest. What she wouldn’t trust was whether he knew his own mind. She would trust he was convinced he was going to be faithful, but the phrase Merle hadcoinedkept popping into her thoughts. Once a cheater, always a cheater. Was it fair for her to buy into the negative stereotype? Or would it be foolish to ignore the stereotype?

Examining her own marriage,the dancertried to figure out why she hadn’tsleptwithMishaonce her marriage with Yuri had broken down. It would have been so easy to slide into an affair with him since she had loved him for so long. Perhaps it was because she had talked herself into believing her feelings forMishahad been one sided, even after the night in the studio when things had almost stepped over the line. If she was honest with herself, it had been emotionally and physically painful to stop herself from kissing him.

Gigihadstopped herself because itwastherightthing to do.She had always felt if a person took the step over the line and cheated on their spouse, therewerebig problems in the marriage. A person should either fix the problems or tell their partner the relationship wasn’t working and find a new partner who was a better match.Was she naïve to make things so black and white in her mind? It was the very line of thinking which kept leading her to ask herself what was missing inNegan’smarriage, or whyhe felt his wifewasn’t enough for himwhen he clearly loved her.

When she had left Misha on the snowy night in New York, she had been elated yet also beside herself, convinced she was the worst wife ever. Her handicapped husband was at home, none the wiser, while she was running her hands all over his best friend, wishing she could have so much more. She had had exactly three days to stew in her guilt and wonder how much longer she could live in a marriage which was wearing her down. Three days to question whether Misha would have kept all the promises he had made with his wandering lips and his longing gaze, if she hadn’t backed off.Three days after her momentary lapse in self-control she had received the phone call from her father, breaking the heart wrenching news. Pierre and his wife were dead.

She and Yuri had rushed to Northern Virginia for the funeral. The change of scenery and the flurry of activity had seemed to be good for her husband. Getting away from the city and out of epicenter of the American ballet relieved him of the daily reminders he could no longer dance.

He had been on his best behavior, supportive of Gigi and her family, and he had even gone out of his way to be a loving distraction for the children during the quiet moments before and after the funeral and wake. It had reminded the ballerina why she had fallen in love with him. He had been kind to her in front of her family and had even seemed to lighten up on her when they were alone together.

It had been Yuri who had suggested they adopt Marshall and Hannah. Since Gigi had already been mulling over whether it would be best for them to parent the teens, she had jumped on the idea in the hopes the loving, kind husband who had resurfaced would remain after the flurry of activity surrounding the funeral died down. Unfortunately, it hadn't taken long for Yuri’s irritability to resurface once they had settled themselves into life as a family of four.

They had moved to Virginia to avoid any more major disruption in the children’s lives. There had also been an appeal in moving away from the upset and stress caused by being forced out of the careers in dance they had loved so much. It had become clear to Gigi with time; she had pushed for the move so she could distance herself from the temptation her best friend presented. In essence, she had run away from Mikhail.

_________

3:13 PM Negan

How was she?

3:15 PM

She had 8 donuts for lunch.

3:18 PM Negan

No sh*t?!

3:25 PM

No sh*t amigo. She’s

drownin her sorrows

in sugar.

Mere wondered whether the two dumb asses would work their way out oftheirmess.He hoped so, or the coach would be ason of abitch to live with.

_________

Negan’sphone buzzed on the nightstand next to him on Monday morning, and he dragged himself out of sleep to look at the message he had received.

6:15 AM Gigi

I’m running late this

morning. Won’t make

it in time for the staff

meeting. I’m sorry.

Neganfound himself relieved she wouldn’t be at the meeting. He wasn't ready to face her. Swiping his hand up and down his face a few times to help clear his foggy head, he tapped out a response.

6:17 AM

All good. Not

much to go over

today.

He wanted to type more but refrained.Rolling out of bed, he checked his phoneto see if she respondedwhile he started a pot of coffee. Heading back to the master bathroom he checked it again before he stepped into the shower, pondering Gigi’s regimented morning routine and how she must really be out of sorts if she was running behind. Checking the phone one more time after he pulled on his clothes and dried his hair, just in case she had responded and he missedthe notification, he berated himself for acting like a lovelorn pansy before he grabbed his keys and headed out the door.

Mondays were always a clusterf*ck, and thisparticular Mondaywas no different. He’d had his usual weekly half-hour department meeting first thing which made him feel hurried when he tried to get some vital work done before school started. He had hurriedly plowed through the stack of paperwork which was still sitting on his desk while he had inhaled a sandwich during his lunch break. Then a fist fight which broke out between two students in between fifth and sixth period which kept him in the office with the two hot heads for half a class. His day had been f*cked from start to finish, adding to his foul mood. Interestingly, he found himself grateful for the chaos. The school day flew by, and he’d had little time to think about his breakup with his dancer. He had spent the entire weekend wallowing in hispuss*fiedmisery, and he needed a break from stewing over her.

My dancer.

f*ck.

You puss*.

After football practice he spent several hours in his office, trying to make his way through the stack of paperwork and his inbox full of emails. It surprised him when he finally looked at the time and found it was quarter after eight. Johnny Walker was calling his ass home to his deck to relax for an hour before he crashed for the night.

__________

By the time the coach stopped for gas, picked up a fast-food burger, poured himself a scotch and made it out to the deck it was after dark. Propping his feet up on another one of the chairs surrounding the table, he inhaled his food, drank his scotch in four gulps and then poured himself another from the bottle keeping him company. Lucille had been right. The creek's waves lapping at the shore, and the sounds of the insects and water fowl drifting up to him on the humid breeze were very f*cking calming.

Nursing scotch number two, he let his mind go blank, refusing to replay any work or personal drama which would f*ck up his relaxed state. He was so relaxed he didn’t notice Gigi until she was dancing down the dock in a full lengthunitardand bare feet, her figure illuminated by the soft glow of the solar lights. More subduedthanshe had been in her previous outdoor dance sessions, she swayed and steppedand twirledlazily before she posed, moving into positions which highlighted her graceful athleticism. f*cking gorgeous.

He initially wondered why she was wearing a unitard which came down to her calves instead of her usual short one, then he remembered the bruises on the back of her thigh from their scene. The longer garb was hiding the evidence of their play. The image of her, her back to him in the shower as she pointed out her bruises popped into his mind, a vivid reminder of his loss. She loved the f*cking bruises.

For a man who hated dance, he loved to watch her move. Remaining still so as not to draw her attention, his eyes followed her as the pace and feel of her laid-back performance increased inintensity. His girl was not angry or frenzied. The story she was telling was one of sadness and mourning, allowing himfeelher upset and her pain. Her tale was as powerful as her cry in the dark had been thenightshe tried to read Yuri’s letter, and Negan found himself descending the stairs from the deck and walking across the yard, driven to make her upset all better even though he knew he couldn’t. Stopping fifteen feet away from her, he watched as she continued to dance, not sure what the f*ck he thought he was going to say to her, or what he thought he could do to help since he was the f*cking cause of her upset.

“I could feel you, the minute I stepped outside,” Gigi softly revealed before she performed a series of slow pirouettes, stopping ten feet in front of him. “Did you hear my call?” she questioned, a smile playing at her lips and in her eyes. She knew he would understand her question.

“I did, tiny dancer,” he admitted. I can’t deny our f*cking connection. She can feel my presence like I can feel her f*cking emotions. Whether she’s tied up or whether she’s dancing , I f*cking tune into her like I would a radio frequency .

It seemed crazy. As crazy as the way she had felt him staring at her during the back-to-school party. He hadn’t acknowledged it when she had pointed it out to him while they were f*cking around on the dock the morning after the awards ceremony. It had seemed so farfetched even though it had rung true. His link to her was solid, their connection deep. She called me without a f*cking word and I ran to her, just like she wanted me to. He was reminded just how much he would be losing if he couldn’t man the f*ck up and commit to her one hundred percent.

Gigi was comforted by his presence after three days of sorrow over their breakup. She had thought about, analyzed and stewed over Negan and their relationship, unable to believe it was over. In the end she had realized there was nothing she could do to change things. She could only leave herself open to possibilities. Her someday was ultimately in charge of deciding whether they had a chance at a future or whether their relationship was truly over. While he made his decision, though, she could give him some food for thought.

Be honest.

Without preface she began, “I have to apologize for the way I handled things on Friday night. I was so upset at what I had learned and over your responses to me that I cut off any possibility of further discussion and considered us over. That was wrong. Especially when it’s the last thing I want for us.” She hesitated for a moment. “I was just so hurt …”

“Gigi, I’m …" Negan started, trailing off when she raised her palm gracefully to stop him.

“You know the way I have to line things up in my head,” she huffed at her own OCD habits. “Is it okay if I just lay my thoughts out for you?”

He co*cked his head at her, squinting in the way she loved, and raised his hand in a gesture of ‘you first’. The furrow in his brow told her he was curious about what was coming.

“I’ve done some thinking,” she continued, “and I realized the reason why I kissed Misha the night of the awards ceremony was so I could be sure I was choosing the right man. The kiss was wrong, no matter what my justification was. There was no excuse. And I already knew the answer to the question in my heart. I was just afraid to trust it. What happened that night is why I can understand how easy it is to act in the heat of the moment. But that night I also made a choice to never do it again. And I I’m one hundred percent certain I wouldn’t, Negan, because I love you and you deserve better than that. I deserve better than that. I don’t need two men in my life anymore, because I’ve found the one I am sure can give me everything I could ever want or need.”

Having thought about it long and hard, she was confident when she advised him, “I think you feel the same way about me. You know I deserve your fidelity and you want to be faithful, but you're worried if you tellmeyou will be, you might go back on your word. Especially since you cheated on your wife so many times.”

Gigi knew her next words would make him uncomfortable, but he needed to hear them. “The problem is, for all the exterior confidence you seem to have about everything else in your life, you have no faith in yourself where this matter is concerned. Your lack of faith makes it easy for the low expectations you’ve set for yourself, to become a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

Negan didn’t respond to her assessment. She was absolutely f*cking right. It sucked to hear it, but it was true.

The tension in his jaw as he ground his teeth together told Gigi her words had struck a chord with him, so she gave him an opening to change the course of their future, hoping he would bite. “I need you to believe you can do better, not only inyour head, but in your heart. I need you to set the bar much higher for yourself and be determined to reach it and stay there. I need you to feel we’re worth fighting for, against any odds or any temptations.”

Approaching him, she stopped beside him and laid her hand on his stomach. She needed to feel him one more time before she stepped back and gave him the space to decide whether he wanted to fight for her. It might be the last time she would be able to touch him so intimately. Her emotion evident in her tone she confided, “I can’t compromise on this, Negan, even if it means the end of us … as much as that would devastate me. I don’t just want you to be faithful. I need it. I need you to be so secure in your love for me that temptation is never an issue.”

She was quiet for a moment before she promised, “If you think you can get to a place where you have the faith in yourself to make that commitment, I’ll be waiting there for you. I have to tell you, though, if you make me wait too long, it will create doubts I won’t be able to erase.”

Negan understood his girl wasn’t making judgements or demands. She was stating her truths. There was nothing he could f*cking say in response. She had been brutally honest about her own slip up, and what she needed from him, and he wasn’t surprised in the least with her assessment of exactly what was going on inside him. He had been rolling all of it around in his head since their breakup and she had put it all into a f*cking nutshell and handed it to him to take or leave, after she had pulled him down to the dock by his purple satin tether to remind him how f*cking attached toherhe was. Sliding his hand over top of hers, he entwined his fingers with her own. Lifting her hand to his mouth, he pressed it to his lips for kiss, holding it in place for a time because it was f*cking painful to let her go.

f*ck.

“I hear what you are telling me, tiny dancer. I just don’t know what the f*ck to say in return.”

“I know,” his magnificent girl validated him, wiping tear from her cheek. “And that’s okay. Really. Just think about it.”

Her hand slid gently from his and she walked away, leaving him standing on the dock. It felt as if she had cut the purple satin ribbon which connected them and left him holding the pieces while he decided whether he wanted to tie them back together. It struck him then; she hadn’t been the one to sever it. He had.

Chapter 38: PauvreBébé

Chapter Text

“Well gentlemen ... and Ms Anderson,” Gigi’s gaze flitted between the faces on her computer screen. Three executives from Capezio were sitting around the end of a conference table at their headquarters in New Jersey, sharing one pane of the Zoom app, while Misha was conferencing in from New York. She was in her office at Mount Vernon with her door shut, using her lunch break to finalize the details of a dancewear line.

Glancing at Mikhail, she noted the almost imperceptible nod of his head, encouraging her to continue. “I know the value my name and image will add to your advertising campaign, and that’s not even factoring in the interest my personal designs for the collection will create. Pairing me with the most influential dancer in the world … well ... when you factor it all in together … " Sitting back in her desk chair she raised her eyebrows at them, signaling her discontent. “... your offer seems low.”

“With all due respect, Mrs. Sokolov,” Joe Norris, the head of the company’s public relations department looked slightly sheepish as he admitted, “our higher ups have concerns about the fact that you’ve been removed from the dance scene for an extended period of time. We know the value of your name, and pairing you with Mister Baryshnikov will create a media frenzy which will work to our benefit, but the fact that you’re no longer dancing raises some big concerns about the viability of the campaign. You will be the spokesperson for a line of dance clothing, when it’s not clear to anyone whether you will be returning to your dance career.”

Misha was the only person who could read the tension on hismalyshka. Showing no offense at the man’s revelation, she ran her tongue along her teeth, studying the executivesthoughtfullybefore she finally bestowed them withan enchanting smile.He knew the smile. He had been on the receiving end of it more than once over the years. She's getting ready to push. And she'llget exactly what she wants. He was confident about her savvy in the board room since he had seen her in action many times before.He was curious, however, as to how she would address their concerns.

Leaning forward to create a sense of intimacy, Gigiresponded as if she was revealing a secret.“Your worrieshave been for naught. You will be the first to know, I have scheduled surgery for my knee at the beginning of the Thanksgiving holiday in November, and as we all know, that means I’ll be dancing again bythe turn of the year.Months before the new line is set for release.”

Capezio’s reps nodded, their relief palpable in response to the news. “What a wonderful surprise! I know the rest of the world will be as excited as I am to know you’ll dance again,” Jeanie Anderson gushed. As a dancer turned marketing strategist, she was a big fan of the prima ballerina, and had personally felt the loss when theSokolovshad disappeared from the dance scene so abruptly.

“I also have some ideas about putting some teasersouton social media before we officially announce our collaboration with your company. I’d be happy to share them with you,” the dancer informed them,as if it was agiventhey wouldbe implemented.

“Fantastic! We look forward to hearing them.”

Gigi kept her focus on Capezio’s team, knowing she had surprised Misha with the news of an impending surgery. It was news to her as well. She hadn’t actually scheduled the knee repair, but the company’s doubts had rattled herconfidenceand were the push she needed to commit to having her injury repaired.Sureheknewshe waslying,she didn’t want to deal with his reaction during the meeting. She wouldshift her little white lie to a truthby emailing her orthopedist after the meeting and asking him to schedule the procedure in November.

Moving the conversation along, Misha picked upnegotiationswhere she had left off. “This brings us back to the matter at hand. We all know your counteroffer is too low. Let’s stop putzing around and get this wrapped up. Ten million each,” he threwtheirhighball number out as if it he expected the figure to be accepted. “And we split ten percent of the sales profits. Gigi will expect an additional twenty percent for her designs.”

Gigi hid her delight at his boldness. They had discussed the possibility of negotiating for a percentage of the sales and had decided to wait until initial sales figures came in to renegotiate a better deal for the next season’s clothing line.

Joe held up his index finger toward the two dancers, scribbling notes on a piece of paper in front of him while his coworkers leaned in to read his figures. Nodding at each other, the three looked back up at them, Jeanie offering, “Six and a half, along with the ten and twenty percent.”

Misha shook his head, countering, “Eight and a half is a minimum.”

After a quick glance at his partners, Joe sealed the deal, “Done!” Dropping his pen on the table, he grinned at his company’s new business partners. Capezio was lucky to sign the two stars to endorse their collection. He had heard through the grapevine, after collaborating with her on the track renovation at her local high school, Under Armour was planning on making an offer to Gigi Sokolov any minute. They were going to take advantage of the fact Capezio had been waiting a respectable time after Yuri Sokolov’s death to engage his wife in further discussion about the possible ad campaign. The dancewear company wasn’t used to competing with the big boys. They knew Under Armour could and would easily outbid them if they had the chance.

________

12:55 PM Misha

I wassurprised

to hear you

scheduled

surgery.

Contemplatingthemessage, Gigi dropped her phone in her bag before putting it in her desk drawer.They had only ended their Zoom call with Capezio three minutes before, and he was already texting her.Taking one last bite of her pasta before she headed to theschool’s dance studiofor her Modern Dance II class, she washed it down with some co*ke, shaking her head at his message. If you hadn’t been ignoring me for the last several weeks, you might have some idea of what’s been happening in my life. And no, itdoesn‘tmakea difference I was just as surprised by my news as you were.

Misha had been serious when he told her he needed time. Almost two months had passed and she had not heard from him, other than a heart emoji in response to a text she sent with a link to an article from the sports section of the local paper. The blurb featured a photo of Marshall during Mount Vernon’s football game against Fairfax High. The photographer had caught her nephew midair, reaching to catch the football which missed its original mark. The teen had seized the opportunity and stolen the ball, taking a running leap and catching it, just as his Uncle Misha taught him. Sprinting the forty yards back towards his team’s end zone, he had turned the game back in Mount Vernon’s favor with a touchdown.

Gigi had been more than a little perturbed at Mikhail’s lackluster response until Marshall had excitedly informed her his Uncle Mish called to congratulate him on the play and invite him and Hannah to New York after Thanksgiving. A yearly tradition, originally her niece and nephew had traveled to the city by train and stayed with their aunt and uncle for a long weekend. They would visit the tree in Rockefeller Center and do some Christmas shopping. Misha had taken over the tradition once the Sokolovs moved to Northern Virginia, knowing how much the children enjoyed it. While Gigi was glad to hear the kids would still get to spend time in the city over the holidays, she couldn’t help but feel hurt when her best friend’s invitation didn’t include her.

While she agreed they needed some time to put their relationship in perspective, he had always been the most supportive person in her life, and she felt the loss of his friendship every day. It was hard to come to terms with so soon after her husband’s death.

The feeling of loss was compounded each day and week by the loss of her relationship with Negan. It had been weeks since she and Negan talked on the dock. She had waited patiently, yet he'd made no overture to respond to her observations and pleas. Missing him desperately, the entire situation was complicated by the fact they worked together. It was difficult for her heartache to ebb when it was refreshed each time she saw him at school.

Gigi filled her after school hours with cheerleading and dance practices. She had chosen student captains and co captains for each group to help manage the clubs, and spent her afternoons running back and forth between the two groups to guide them. Carol was fantastic back up with the cheerleaders and also volunteered to take on a more prominent role with the dance club, dividing the responsibilities equally with her friend. Both the staff and the students had been surprised to find out the home economics teacher was a gifted dancer.

As planned, Gigi and Jesus were teaching a basic self-defense class for their fellow teachers and students on Tuesday nights. The class was surprisingly popular, and they had to turn away several dozen applicants in order to keep the class size manageable.Between choreographing and overseeing her two clubs, and planning and teaching the Tuesday night lessons with Paul, Gigi was busier than she had expected to be.

The renovations she planned for their outdated home were also underway, the construction crew arriving while she got ready for work each morning, adding to their usual chaos as she and the children rushed to get out the door. The never-ending activity in her life was a blessing and a curse, her schedule keeping her mind off Negan, but also leaving her void of energy by the time the end of the work week rolled around.

Each week ended with her attendance atMount Vernon’s footballgame onFriday night to support her cheerleaders and Marshall’s team. It was one of her simple joys, but alsofelt like the straw breakingthe camel’sback,one of too many commitmentspushing her towards a physical meltdown. She would drop into bed late each Friday night, barely able tobrush her teethbefore she passed out.

InGigi’smind,her exhaustion was a sign she had become deconditionedfrom her lack of exercise. Routinelyskipping her morning workout, she alsoswam onlysporadicallydue to time constraints.The weather was starting to get cooler, and it wouldn’t be long before she had to give it up altogether until things warmed up again late in the spring. It was inconceivable, in her mind, how the same woman who had danced for eight hours a day, five days a week, and then performed on weekends only a few years ago, was now barely able to make it through her work week.

So many huge changes had occurred in her life, and the chaos and lack of time to focus on her own needs and health werenew elements which frustrated her.Most disconcerting though, wastherealizationthatfor the first time in her life, Gigi felt lonely. Her life had always been full of people - close friends and family. Most importantly, she had always had someone to love. Someone who slept beside her, someone who supported her and shared her joys, someone who gave her affection and who she could lavish attention and affection on. The single life was something she had only experienced when she first moved to New York with Carol.

From the start of her career she had worked ten to twelve hours a day with a group of men and women who were like a second family to her. She had acquired a whole new family of friends at American Ballet Theatre, along with Misha and Yuri, who she added to her inner circle. Gigi thrived with a myriad of close, personal relationships. The more the better. Other than Merle, she hadn’t had the chance to form any substantial new friendships with her workmates at Mount Vernon, though she did have a great time with the other teachers at the back-to-school party and the one Friday night post game get together she had attended. She had enjoyed her night out with Paul Rovia, and they worked well together when teaching their class. They had discussed getting together again outside of work, but hadn't been able to make it happen due to conflicting schedules.

She had started to get a taste of loneliness when her marriage had gone awry, but Misha had helped fill the chasm which had sprung up between her and Yuri. Adopting the children had filled her heart and her time. For the first time, she had no one toturn to for supportor share her world with. It wasn’t that shethought shecouldn’tmanage on her own.She had taken care of both herself and Yuri throughout their entire marriage, so she had no problem with the independence she had suddenly stepped into. What she really missed were the intimate relationships which filled her soul.

On Saturdays and SundaysGigifound herself sleeping later and later, nothaving much reasontoget up and moving.It wasn’t like her at all,hersudden apathy, and shewas keenly aware of it.She had always been one to keep herself busy in times of stress, working it off. Convinced the weight of all the negatives she had experienced in the last few months were finally bearing down on her, she cut herself some slack, allowing herself torelaxon the weekends after she inspected the latest work by the construction crew, cleaned the house, did the laundry, grocery shopped and choreographed new routines and numbers for her cheerleaders and dancers.

Shewas so grateful to have her niece and nephew in her life,yetsherarely sawthemfor more than a few minutes each day. Typical teenagers, they were always out with friends, returning home just in time to get ready for bed so they couldrush out of the house forschoolor more socializing the nextmorning. They always offered to help her do chores around the houseon the weekends, but she insisted they go out and have fun with their friends.

Reaching out to Carol and Merle were her distractions from the emptiness in her life. She chatted on the phone with Carol while she shifted the laundry from the washer to the dryer, emptied the dishwasher and cleaned the bathrooms.She made a habit out of chatting with Merle if he wasn't bar hopping, when the quiet became too much for her at night. Talking on the phone helped allay her feeling of isolation. While she wanted to ask him how Negan was doing, she wouldn’t, knowing it would be putting him in an awkward position.

Despite her busy schedule, and despite her distractions, she could still feel the void.

Fed up with the newly acquiredflab on the top of her thighs,and her uncharacteristic moodiness and laziness,the dancerdecided to stop wallowing in her self-pity andstarted getting up earlier during the week. She needed to get herself back in shape for her upcoming photo shoots for the Capezio clothing line. Luckily, she had a handful of months to firm up. She startedrising at five in the morning to spend an hour dancing and lifting weights,determined to decrease her flab and increase her endorphins. Ignoringthe escalating pain in her knee shepushed herself, knowing the surgery she had finally scheduled wasgetting closerand the injurywould berepairedsoon. Besides, she reasoned with herself sarcastically, she held stock in the biggest manufacturer of ibuprofen. She may as well help keep the value of her investments up.

Loweringher intakeof carbohydrates to a bare minimum and limiting her portion sizes,Gigi wassure her lack of discipline with her diet and her exercise were the reason she was falling apart at the seams. Along with her constant fatigue, her stomach had become a mess from all the sugar and simple starches she had added to her diet and she had started feeling as ifitwastied in knots. She knew she would feel better if she got back on track.

Gigi was both shocked and devastated when she miscarried Negan’s baby. The dull cramping she had been experiencing in her abdomen since earlier that afternoon woke her shortly before midnight one autumn Sunday, the pain coming in waves which continued to escalate in intensity.

Not having had a period since she was a teenager due to her physically intense dance training and then her birth control implant, she knew something was horribly wrong when she found her underwear stained with blood. It finally dawned on her she had been mistaken in thinking the recent discomfort she had been feeling was her digestive tract protesting the garbage she had been eating. The reality of what was happening hit her like a ton of bricks.

Not wanting to disturb their sleep, she left the children a note on their bathroom mirror so they would find it first thing in the morning, then drove herself to the ER in a daze, calling Carol on the way.She was taken into surgery for a D&C at three in the morning. The high daily dose of ibuprofen she had been taking regularly for her knee complicated what should have been a simpleoutpatientprocedure, increasing the risk of excessive bleeding. Giving her mildcoagulants, her surgeon decided to admit her for a few days to monitor her blood count and her recovery.

___________

“Have you thought about callingNegan?” Carol prodded her, pushing some stray hair back off her friend’s forehead. She had spent the night keepingGigicompany in the ER and was sitting next to her in the recovery room whenshewoke up afterhersurgery.A real trooper, she had followed along when they finallywheeledthe patienttoher own roomearlyin the morning, helping her to get settled. They were both exhausted.

Gigiwas silent for a moment before shemurmured her response, still feeling the effects of the anesthesia and pain killers she had been given.“I can’t bring him to this nightmare right now. He and I havebeen dancing around each other at work, Carol, and it’s been awful. We pretend everything is normal … chatting about department matters when we need to, but generally avoiding each other because it’s too hard to be in each other’s space. And I don’t know if he’s acting that way because he is miserable without me or because he’s realized he is fine without me and doesn't want to tell me.

“So much time has gone by since I told him I would give him time to think about things, and he hasn’t given me any indication what he's thinking …so for me to drop this into the mix right now would just complicate things. And I don’t want him to feel sorry for me.” Gigi quieted for a time while she tried to put her thoughts together. “God forbid he feel obligated to me because of this … I don’t know ...” she finally trailed off. “I just need to time to process all of this, on my own.”

Tears started to fall as she revealed, “I’m not readytobelieveour relationship is over. Notuntil I hear the words come out of his mouth.It may be foolish, but I’m holding out hope he’ll have some sort of epiphany and come running back to me. Pretty stupid, right?” she looked up at her friend, not sure if she wanted her romantic fantasy validated, or whether she wanted to be smacked into reality so she could move on with her life.

“Well, we both know you’ve always been stupid,” Carol teased her with a grin, “But I’m not so sure you should give up on Negan yet. From what you’ve told me he has a lot to work out in his mind. It’s not an easy thing for people to look inward, Gigi, and you forced him to do that in a big way when you called him out on his insecurities and his past behavior.” Knowing the details of the pair’s break up, she had validated her friend’s actions and the fact she had stood up for her need for a full commitment from him, especially given his history. “I can see why you don’t want to dump this on him right now,” Carol prompted her, “but he deserves to know at some point. It was his baby, too. And everything else aside,he might be a great comfort to you right now.”

Gigi desperately wanted to call Negan. He had been her first thought when she had realized she was miscarrying in the middle of the night. She wanted him to care so much about her he would drop what he was doing and run to her, professing his love for her and insisting he couldn’t live another minute without her. He would promise he could and would be faithful to her, because she was the one and only woman for him.

I am stupid.

“It’s all too muchto handle, Carol,” she cried. “Yuri ... Misha ... Negan … I’ve lost them, one after the other.But you know what’s even moreheartbreaking?I didn’t even know I was pregnant, but I think I’m most devastated about losing the baby!” she sobbed. “Does that sound crazy? It feels cruel that Ifinallyrealized how muchI’ve alwayswantedto havea baby,after it was too late.”

Early in their marriage, Gigi and Yuri had discussed starting a family, but they had decided to save any serious discussion about the matter until she was getting closer to retiring from dance. They simply hadn’t been sure when the appropriate time would be. As happened with athletes, the wear and tear on a dancer’s body forced them to retire decades before their golden years. Normally they would continue working in the art, teaching dance or taking a position behind the scenes with a dance company. Gigi’s injury, followed by Yuri’s health problems, had shelved the discussion about children indefinitely. The desire to expand their family had crossed her mind many times especially over the previous few years when she was onhaitusfrom dancing and would have had the time to devote to raising a family. Adding a baby to their less than happy home, however, wouldn’t have been fair to anyone, least of all a child.

Negan had confided in Gigi; he’d had his own issues with trying to start a family earlier in his marriage. He and Lucille had had fertility problems and stopped trying to expand their family after his wife had two miscarriages within a few months of each other. They had happened after many, many attempts to get pregnant. “It was too much to handle,” Negan had admitted, “and we both realized we didn’t want to go through it again. We stopped trying.” I always thought we would get help from a fertility specialist at some point, but Lucille always said she wasn’t ready when I brought it up. After a while I just gave up.”

Gigi had no idea how he would react to the news she had lost his baby. She did know, with the current state of their relationship, it would be awkward for them to try to console each other over the loss. She didn’t want it to force them together. Telling him or keeping the miscarriage from him wouldn’t change the outcome. She needed to recuperate from both the shock and the surgery, and then decide how and when to break the news to him.

Shaking her head and wiping the tears from her eyes sheasked, “Can you please call the school?” Sniffling, sheformulatedwhat she would tell people about her hospital stay. “If you keep it simple and tell them I needed an unexpected surgery, I’ll figure out what to tell them by the time I go back to work. I can make it sound like appendicitis.”

HandingGigithe box of tissues from the bedside table, Carol agreed.

“Ma cherie!” Estelle’s French, spoken with a southern twang, filled the room as she pulled back the privacy curtain inside the door with flourish and made her way to her daughter’s bed. Setting a large, plastic container she was carrying on the bed, she reached out and pressed her palm to her daughter’s forehead for several seconds and then laid the back of her fingers on her cheek. It was her personal way of testing her children and grandchildren for signs of a fever. She frowned with concern when she spied Gigi’s tears and her used tissues, leaning in to place a kiss on her temple.

“How did you getpast the front desk, Mom?Visiting hours don’t start until nine,” thepatient smiled tiredly at her mother, questioning hercuriously.

“Well, mon petit,doors that are normally closed just seem to fly open pourmoiwhenIhave homemade chocolate and raspberry filled croissantsin hand!”She patted the visitor sticker on her chest and winked at Gigi and her friend, pulling the lid off her creations. “Jacques, can you go find us some coffee?”she ordered as he eyeballed herwith his usual amusem*ntfrom the doorway.“Can you even eat yet, Gigi?”she inquired turning her attention back to her daughter.

“No,” Carol informed her. “But I can.” Picking up a fruit filled pastry, she took a bite, groaning in appreciation. “Oh. My. God!”she praised Estelle’s baking skills with her exclamation.

“You’re just mean,” Gigi admonished her friend, explaining to her mother, “I have to wait until they listen to my GI tract and make sure the anesthesia has worn off and it’s working up to speed, mom.”

“Pauvrebébé!” Turning to Jacques once more, she shooed him out of the room with her hand. Waiting until he was out of sight, she addressed Gigi while she side eyed the woman standing on the other side of the bed. “Okay, what’s really going on Gigi? Abdominal pain? What kind of surgery did you need for abdominal pain? Carol isn’t very good at skirting the truth.” Spying a nurse coming through the door with his computer station on wheels, Estelle didn’t pause her chatter, and shifted her focus to the newest addition to the room. “Bonjour!” Picking up the croissants she approached him, holding the container so he could see what was inside. “Can you please check her for bowel sounds first? She’s looking a little peaked. I think she might be hungry.” Moving the confections closer to his nose, she smiled warmly. “Would you like one?”

While her mother was busy feeding the hospital staff, Gigi looked tiredly at her friend, mouthing, “Help me!”

“I can’t, I’m busy eating,” Carol whispered, grinning at her in return.

Chapter 39: Father Dearest

Chapter Text

“Well, it’s not about you right now. It’s about Gigi,” Carol lectured quietly, trying to keep her voice down so the other people in the busyhospitalcorridorwouldn’t overhear her phone conversation. “She needs you, so, you need to get over yourself and get your butt to the hospital.”

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“It’s not my place to fill you in on the details. It’s my place, as her friend, to be sure she has the support she needs right now. She needs you.” Wantingto convey urgency, yet not wanting to betray Gigi’s trust she added, “I wouldn’t have called you if this was something minor.”

The other end of the line was quiet for several seconds before she heardaquiet, butdetermined, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

__________

Neganwas fuming over the fact there were no substitute teachers available to cover his classes for the day. When he found out Gigi was in the hospital, he immediately called Olivia to tell he her needed the day off. "I have a family emergency,” he had lied, hoping no one would put two and two together he was talking about his girl. The secretary had promised she would work on finding someone. When his phone rang 20 minutes later, and Prick Grimes was on the other end of the phone,Neganknew before the man started speaking, he was calling to save his administrative assistant from getting an earful of the coach’s wrath.

“What do you mean there aren’t any goddamn substitutes?”

“Just what I said, Negan,” the principal replied. “Not only are Gigi and Carol out, but Sasha needed the day off for jury duty, Eugene called in because his flight got cancelled yesterday while he was traveling back from the Star Trek convention in New York and the airline can’t fly him home until later today. There’s also a stomach flu going around over at Alexandria High, so the county is tapped out for substitute teachers. I’m sorry, man. I would cover your day, but I have meetings until… ”

Neganhung up while Grimes was midsentence. He was getting increasingly agitated at the thought something serious might have kept Gigi at the hospital all night. He felt pressed to get to her, to be sure she was okay. Assuming he would be welcome. Weeks had gone by since she had given him the opportunity to make things right and work things out with her, and he had been such an emotionally stunted asshole he hadn’t known how to move forward to fix things.

He f*cking hated the way he and his girl had been tip toeing around each other since their breakup. He hated the way they would give each other pathetic, half assed smiles when they were both out in their yards. He hated the roles they had settled into at Mount Vernon, those of amiable workmates. He f*cking hated the awkward way they said good morning in the hallway, and seriously f*cking hated not knowing what the f*ck to say to her, or how to fix the f*cking mess in his head.

It was clear Gigi was respecting his space while he figured things out. He f*cking hated that, too. He found himself wanting her to aggravate the piss out of him to try to force him to talk to her, as she had done previously when they had something to work out.

At some point she was going to stop waiting for him to figure his sh*t out, so he needed to do it before she moved on. Oddly, his puss* whipped ass wanted to run to her for help, her OCD way of making lists and plans, suddenly appealing to him. He could see the different roadblocks in his thinking, but he was getting stuck trying to fit the different pieces together to make sense of things.My f*cking dyslexic brain strikes again.

It made no sense to him he hadn't taken the step to commit to her, when he had no doubt he wanted to. Always be honest. f*cking rulenumber five kept holding him back.Neganhad pieced together enough to know he didn’t want to make his girl a promise he couldn’t keep.She had asked him to find a way to ensure he would never cheat on her, to step into a radically different f*cking place where he could make that promise without hesitation. The concept was so foreign to him, he had no idea whether he could be successful.

Gigi had been spot on when she had told him he had no faith in himself. The idea she had peggedNeganSmith’s puss* ass weakness was grating to him. It scratched and scraped at the surface of his psyche with jagged fingernails, trying to get at something deep rooted. Something which didn’t want to be messed with. He knew it. He just couldn’t see it, because it was buried deep.

He had spent a sh*t load of time pondering why this woman was worth such a big f*cking effort. It would be easier to let her go, and just spend the rest of his days sliding his dick into any and all willing puss* which came his way. His dancer was prissy, and a co*cky diva at times, demanding the world dance into line behind her. It had become clear in the short time he had known her; she pretty much always got what she wanted. For some unknown reason, she had set her sights on him. She wantedhim . Normally he would just as soon spit at a woman like Gigi than f*ck with her, but his hard ass little diva was also his good girl, open to letting him redefine her in the most intimate f*cking way and mold her any way his perverted heart desired. He f*cking loved her for it, along with the way her naïve ass looked at him as if he was responsible for the air she breathed, grateful he would share it with her. She acted as if it was a f*cking privilege to be his good girl. The thought of it may have made his throat a little f*cking tight with puss* whipped, girly ass emotion. She’s f*cking ruined me, goddamn it. I may as well have “puss*” embroidered on my f*cking football jersey. She’s tied her f*cking ribbon around my nuts so f*cking tightly they’re no good for any other woman.

His thoughts kept drifting back to the conversation he’d had with Merle the last time they were fishing. His buddy’s warning kept creeping into the conversations he was having with himself about manning up and giving Gigi what she needed. If he ever cheated on his girl, she would never be able to forgive him, and it wouldn’t be due to an inability to forgive. It would be a result of him hurting her to the core. It would break her faith and trust in him, and the impact would be irreparable. In order to promise hisdancerhe would be faithful to her, he needed to be one hundred percent sure he would follow through.

f*cking f*ck me all to hell.

_________

Seeing she was exhausted, atlunchtimeGigi insisted Carol go home and get some rest. Her friend acquiesced, since Estelle was there to attend to her friend’s needs. Shortlyafter, her mother sent Jacques on his way to find something decent for Gigi to eat, since the hospital food served for lunch wasn’t very appealing.

“Some sort of chef salad please, Dad, with oil and vinegar, and maybe a fruit cup?”

“She’ll have some pasta or some kind of hearty soup she can eat with my croissants, from the café near the lobby,” her mother contradicted in her most soothing southern, French lilt. “And get her a hot chocolate from the Starbucks on the second floor, monami!”

“I had a miscarriage,” Gigi finally revealed once her father was gone, waiting for her mother’s response.

“I know,” her mother responded, taking her daughter’s chin in her palm and caressing her jawline with her thumb.

“You know ? How do you know?”

“I may be goofy, Gigi, but there is a brain in this head of mine, believe it or not. The tissues … your puffy eyes … and the fact you can go back to work in a few days … What other type of minor surgery would it be?” Estelle suddenly shifted gears,questioning, “I thought you were on a birth control implant?”

“Apparently they just issued a recall on the lot Doctor Evans had in stock when she renewed my implant six months ago. The amount of hormone in the implant was inaccurate. They were in the process of contacting all of her patients who needed a replacement when she received my call this morning.”

“Merde!” Suddenly quiet, she studied her daughter. “This must have been a shock for you, macherie. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay. You know I’m here to listen any time you need, sweetheart.”

“I know. Thanks, Mom.” Gigi reached up to squeeze her mother’s hand with her fingers, smiling at her lovingly. Taking in the woman’s pensive expression, she preempted her mother's question with her answer, “No, I haven’t toldNegan.”

“But you …"

“Yes, I plan on it, mom. I just need to process it myself, first.”

Estelle nodded, pulling a bottle of lotion with aloe from the bin on the nightstand, full of sample size toiletries the hospital had provided. Popping open the lid she handed it to her patient. “Put some of this on the end of your nose. It’s lookingtrésirritéeet rouge, macherie. And come to think of it,” she continued, “You’re going to need to come up with another “-itis” to blame for your hospital stay. If you planned on telling people you had appendicitis, like Carol hinted at when she called us, you would need more recuperation time after the surgery and you would have a scar. I’d go with pancreatitis. No surgery needed for that one. You know how Grandma Flo used to get those attacks all the time and end up in the hospital for a few days while the doctors tried to calm it down. Blame it on your recent sugar and carb addiction. You always did have touchy digestion,” she rambled, causing Gigi to giggle.

“I adore you, you know.”

“I know, sweetheart. Jesuistrèsadorable.”

________

By the time Negan made it to Saint Agnes Hospital, it was after five o’clock. He had intended to leave after he grilled Marshall about why his aunt was in the hospital, but things hadn’t gone as planned. Walsh had promised to cover football practice forhim butended up sick with the stomach bug a few of his students had brought to school. He had to leave before the day was over. Last period was his planning period, so taking off early hadn’t required a substitute teacher.

“I’m not sure how serious it is, Coach,” his neighbor had responded to his query. “She left a note on the bathroom mirror for us to find this morning that she was headed to the ER, and not to worry. Miss Carol called me earlier to tell me she’s okay, and I got a text a few minutes ago from Aunt Gigi that she’ll be fine. It’s just an inflamed pancreas, like her grandmother used to get. Mémé is going to stay with us until she comes home from the hospital in a few days.”

“Mémé?”

“Grandma Estelle,” Marshall explained with a straight face. “You know how she likes to pretend she’s French.”

The lack of detail in the teen’s response added to Negan’s aggravation. He had checked his phone repeatedly throughout the day, wondering if Gigi would message him to fill him in on how she was doing. She had to know he would hear she was in the hospital, whether it be from the school staff or self-proclaimed master spy, Merle Dixon.

“What the f*ck is going on?” he had questioned hisbuddy.

“I got no idea, amigo.Either Gigi isbein’tight lipped, or Grimes is. Thereain’tno talk around Gossip Centralaboutexactlywhat’shappenin’ with ourgirlfriend,” he poked at his friend.

“Gossip Central?”

“Olivia’s desk,” Merle had informed him.

“Heh.”

Getting off the elevator on the fifth floor,Neganhurriedly checked the wall in front of him for signs which would indicate which direction he shouldwalkto find Gigi’s room. He had driven like a maniac when he left Mount Vernon, determined to get to the hospital in less than ten minutes, even though it was fifteen miles away. He had been thwarted in his efforts by a cop, who took her good old timelooking at hislicense and registrationwhilehe told the woman his tale of woe about getting a call his girlfriend was taken to the hospital due to a life-threatening case of pancreatitis.

“Slow it down, cowboy,” she had warned him, handing his ID and registration back without issuing a ticket. “The hospital is only two miles away. Youwannaarrive in one piece.”

“Yeah,thanks a f*cking bunch, lady,”Neganhad mumbled under his breath as she walked away, hitting the button to put his window up.

Rushing down the hallway, he counted down from five forty-six to five forty-four on his way to room five forty-two. Gigi’s room. He felt pressed to lay eyes on his girl and verify she was okay, and he couldn’t do it fast enough. Approaching her door, he heard an unmistakable voice inside the room, a male voice with a heavy Russian accent.

“Malyshka, tell me what’s wrong.”

What the f*ck is the dancing douchebag doing here?

________

Feeling a quiet presence close by, Gigi opened her eyes as she woke up from her nap, expecting to find her mother still sitting in the chair next to her bed. She was startled to find someone else, instead. “Misha?”

Immediately rising, he approached her, his concern written all over him. Perching himself on the edge of the bed next to her, with one foot resting on the floor, he took her hands in his and rubbed them soothingly with his thumbs. She couldn’t help the tears which started to well up in her eyes, and she wasn’t sure if they were from relief or anger.

“Malyshka, tell me what’s wrong,” he pleaded with her, the upset in his voice tugging at her heart strings.

“How did you find out I was here?” she wondered aloud.

"Marshall texted me this morning when he found your note.”

“Marshall? Why would he text you, when he knows you haven’t been speaking to me?" Gigi couldn’t help the subtle bite in her tone over the factMishahad not reached out to her in weeks.

“Don’t be upset with him,” Mikhail pleaded. “Please. He thought I should know, and I’m glad he contacted me.”

Turning away from him, she stared out the window, unsure how to respond. For so many years she had shared everything with him, but suddenly she felt uncomfortable with the idea of sharing anything with him. Especially something as intimate as the fact she’d lost Negan’s baby.

Pulling a tissue from the box on the nightstand, he held it front of her until she reached blindly to take it, having heard the whoosh of the paper coming out of the container. “You’re mad at me.”

“Yes, I am,” Gigi admitted to the trees outside her window. “Very.” She hadn’t been able to admit as much to herself since he had left her standing in her bedroom the night of the awards ceremony. Him putting her feelings into words for her opened a floodgate of pent-up emotion. She couldn’t look at him as she accused, “You just abandoned me, Misha. All because you didn’t get your way. It wasn't over my lie about my knee.” Having spent too much time playing and replaying their last night together in her mind, she concluded he had been deflecting with his anger over her lie. “Because I chose him over you, you just threw away our friendship like it meant nothing to you.” Her hurt was clear in her tone, along with a bit of the anger she was having hard time containing. “You tried to make everything my fault, and it wasn’t fair.”

“You’re right,” he conceded, and she could feel him nodding next to her.

“I am?” Head whipping around, she finally looked him the eye, surprised at his admission.

“I was pissed,Malyshka, and I took it out on you when I had no one to blame but myself,” he admitted.

"Really? ”

Smirking at her surprise, he agreed with part of her assessment. “You are right about why I was angry. But I would never throw our friendship away. I really just needed to distance myself for a bit.” Misha started telling her his story as he rose from the edge of the bed and paced the room, pulling up memories from their past to fill in his tale, starting back at their beginning. “I knew you would fall in love with Yuri. I saw it the moment he walked in the room the first day I danced with you at the studio. I could see it in the way the sparkle danced in your eyes as you took him in. I thought I had seen the same sparkle directed at me the night I met you backstage at Giselle, and while we were working together that day. I knew he had the advantage in winning your heart, since you would be dancing so intimately together. Working so many hours together. But I also knew there were things about Yuri which would make him less than a perfect match for you. You know how friendly he and I had become before you started with the company.” Stopping to look at her, he smiled at the memory of his friend, revealing affectionately, “I knew what a spoiled baby he was, and I knew he would never be capable of giving anyone the emotional support they needed, because Yuri’s world revolved all around Yuri and his comfort.”

Gigi listened with rapt attention to whatMishawas revealing to her, surprised at his perspective of their history.

“SoI made up my mind to be the one to fill the gap for you. With totally selfish motives, of course. It pissed me off you and I were so perfect for each other, but we would never be together. I was jealous, but I also wanted you to be happy.SoI compromised. I insinuated myself into your life in the most intimate and important ways. I choreographed for you so the rest of the world could see why we loved you so, and I kept your secrets for you, and listened to your desires and dreams. I commiserated with you when you and Yuri were fighting. I partnered with you in business, and we made some of our most important financial decisions together while Yuri sat disinterested on the sidelines. I had everything except what I wanted the most. You. All to myself.”

Gigi’s sat stunned, shocked atMisha’srevelations. “And you knew … all of this … all those years?”

He waved away her theory with his hand, confessing, “No. I would hope you know I’m not that much of azhopa. I only I knew was I was a jerk for wanting my best friend’s wife. I consoled myself over being a horrible friend, by convincing myself I was doing Yuri a favor in giving you the pieces of a relationship he never could. So, no, I didn’t know. I’ve gained this fabulous insight into my behavior over the last few months, thanks to a sh*t load of therapy sessions.”

Gigi smiled at his foul language, knowing he used it very rarely. She was also smiling at his confession. Her anger disappeared and her upset forgotten she teased him, “Mikhail Baryshnikov went to therapy over me?” What he was telling her was monumental, and despite her taunting, she didn’t take any of it lightly.

“Don’t flatter yourself, brat,” he threw back at her. Returning to sit on the edge of the bed, he shifted to a serious tone admitting, “I had some things I needed to work out, Gigi. I needed to figure out why I was coveting a married woman instead of giving myself to someone who would dedicate themself to me … why I could never commit to Jessica, or Tuesday, or Janine and hid behind you instead.”

“Wow. Your therapist sounds amazing, pulling all of that out ofyour tinylittle heartin such a short time,” she joked.

Feigning incredulity,Misharaised his eyebrows at her, responding, “Unbelievable! I think you need some therapy to figure out how to stop being a pain in my ass.”

“But this pain in your ass has missed you, Mish.”During their time apart, she had found she could make her way on her own, without him to lean on and rely on all the time. She also found, however, she wanted his friendship and needed him in her life. He was her person. “So much.I hope your therapist thinks it’s okay for us to be friends again? Maybe with some boundaries?”

“I don’t know,Malyshka,” he looked at her seriously, yet with a twinkle of mischief in his eye. “She thinks you’re kind of a brat, too.”

She gasped melodramatically. “Zhopa!” They both laughed, happy to have fallen back into their affectionate banter.

“Tell thiszhopawhy you are in the hospital, Gigi Ray.” He was suddenly all business, motioning for her to scoot over on the bed. Picking up the container of croissants Estelle had handed him whenhe arrived, he lowered the railing on the bed and sat down next to her, pushing the buttonto raise the head of the bed. Kicking his shoes off and swinging his feet up onto the saggy, plastic and starched-sheet-covered mattress, he ordered, “And while you’re at it, you can tell me why you’re upset withNegan.”

“Whydo youthink…”

“The only timeI’veeverseen you eatcarbohydrates was when you wereupset withYuri,” he theorized, cutting across her. “Marshall texted me a picture of the inside of your refrigerator a few weeks ago, with the cans of co*ke and the rice pudding container. He was worried something was horribly wrong with you. I had to wonder myself ...”

__________

Mount Vernon was playing Chantilly High on Friday, and his team’s offense needed work before the game. The day after his thirty second visit to the hospital, he quelled his anger over Prancer’s return by working out his aggression on the football field, running up and down the sideline and standing in for his players when he wanted to show them their weaknesses and the solutions which would strengthen their game. The students had no idea why their coach was suddenly so hands on, instead of yelling from the sidelines as he normally did. Practice was particularly productive, his mood lifted by working closely with the little assholes, and Negan made a mental note to be more hands on during his coaching.

Packing up his duffel bag, he headed home at four forty-five. Walking into the house at five on the nose, he grabbed a beer out of the fridge with the intention of heading to the master bedroom to take a shower. Stopping at the sliding glass doors in the family room, he opened the curtains which he had closed in the morning to keep the morning sunlight from heating up the room. Standing in front of the glass doors, he looked out over the water. He was surprised to see a lone figure standing on the dock, hands in his pockets. Though he was looking at the man’s back, he would recognize the slim figure and gray hair anywhere.

What the f*ck is he doing here? This is just the icing on my f*cked-up cake of a day. f*ck me

__________

“What’re you doing here,Dad?”

If he heard Negan approaching him from behind, Jonah gave no indication, finally turning around at the sound of his question. Taking in his son, shirt wet and hair plastered to his head with perspirationfrom his workout at practice, he ignored the query, remarking, “Jesus, you look like something the f*cking cat dragged in.”

Not having the energy or patience to deal with his father’s insults, he repeated his question. “What’re you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” As his dad spoke,Negancould see the slight sway of his body, though he was standing still. He could also smell the bourbon on his breath, even from six feet away.It was a smell he recognized from his youth, freshliquor on top of stale.The man was saturated at five in the eveningand likely had been for days. “I came to see my f*cking ingrate of a son.”

Staring at him for a moment, Negan raised a hand to wave off the insult, and turned to head back into the house. I don’t need this sh*t right now. He found himself grateful for the promise he had made to Lucille, to stay away from his father. It was the perfect excuse to walk away from the barrage of insults he knew was coming.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” his dad called out angrily.

While he wanted to keep walking and ignore the question, the foul mood he had been sporting since he had gone to visit Gigi was fueling his need to respond, even though he knew it would lead to conflict. Bring it the f*ck on, you prick. “What’s wrong with me?” he countered, turning back and co*cking his head at his father. His flip response went unnoticed, his father simply justifying his own question.

“I ran into Jim Simmons down at the bar today.” He charged into his son’s space, spewing spittle in Negan’s face as he continued. “He asked me why I wasn’t at Lucille’s f*cking funeral.” Raising his voice several decibels, he questioned, “How the f*ck is it I didn’t know my own daughter in law passed away, Negan? What kind of son doesn’t tell their father something like that?”

Negan found it laughable his dad sounded hurt he hadn’t been made aware of Lucille's passing. He hadn’t even asked how she was doing the few times Negan had spoken to him in the last months of her life, yet he was sooo f*cking upset he wasn’t told she had died.

Strangely, for the first time in his life, Negan was calm in the face of his father’s hateful words. His initial agitation dissipated, and he found himself centered in his focus on how to handle the man. For the last twenty plus years of his life he had let his wife diffuse his father’s abuse. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it himself. It wasn’t that he didn’t have it in him or was weak. He had let his wife stand between them because she had made it clear she would be disappointed if he lowered himself to his dad’s level to take him on. Sorry, not f*cking sorry Lucille. It’s happening.

“What kind of son doesn’t tell his father something so important?”He repeated. “It’s the kind of son who doesn’t want his embarrassment of a father around! A son who didn’t want to take the chance you would show up drunk to his wife’s funeral and dishonor her memory. You know, you were always kissing Lucille's ass in an attempt to suck up to her, but she was too good for you, dad,” he declared passionately, his mind comparing all the things good and pure about his wife to the lousy excuse of a human being standing in front of him. “And she didn’t want you at her funeral.” Leaning into his father he added, “She specifically told me so before she died.” Lucille’s words may have been more about her husband distancing himself from Jonah’s abuse, but Negan broadened her intent to serve his purpose, and he did so without remorse.He knew he was baiting him with Lucille’s disdain. She was the one person in their family his dad had ever shown any respect for. There was no way in hell he would let the put-down slide.

His father glared at him for several seconds before he countered, “That doesn’tf*ckingsurprise me! It doesn’tf*ckingsurprise me at all since she was a stuck-up bitch! … Just like your mother. sh*t … you stupid f*ck. You married one just like your lousy mother!” He moved away from Negan, physically distancing himself from the insults which had been thrown at him and regrouping for his next attack. “You just chose a college educated c*nt,” he posed thoughtfully, grimacing as if Lucille’s degree was something to look down on. “I got the stupid one. Your mother was just a stupid, uneducated c*nt. She liked to put on airs, but I knew better. She was a high school drop out.” He laughed, pleased with his assessment of the women who suddenly were nothing more than pretentious nuisances tohim.

The words unleashed a fury inside Negan he had never felt before. His father had stepped into ugly territory, disparaging both his wife and his mother in such a heinous way. He didn’t have time to respond, though, before Jonah unleashed more of his contempt.

Still swaying where he stood, his father’s tone shifted to a thoughtful one, as if his hateful feelings had dissipated and he was simply trying to point out the obvious. “Yeah, she liked to put on airs, but she was no better than a whor*, f*cking prostituting herself for a roof over her head for her and her son. Letting me pound her whenever I wanted, just to be sure she and her precious boy didn’t end up living on the street. I should have passed by when she batted her eyelashes at me at that high school dance. I could’ve done so much better for myself. Had a wife and kid who gave a sh*t about me, instead of the worthless pieces of sh*t I ended up with.”

Negan had advanced on his father, grabbing him by the front of his shirt, intending to shove him with all his strength. Sneering at him, he finally unleashed the pent-up feelings he had suppressed for decades, due to his mother’s guilt inducing mantra. Honor thy father, Negan. “It must really suck to be you, old man, spending so much time wallowing in your hate … blaming everyone and everything else for your misery. All you need to do to find the reason for your pathetic excuse of a life is look in the mirror!” He let go of his father’s tee shirt, but not before he pushed him slightly to get him out of his space.

Studying him, Negan shook his head, not feeling an iota of affection for the asshole. He had felt so much guilt for not respecting or loving his father, thanks to his mother’s constant reminders he should trust in his faith and do as the Bible taught him, even when it seemed difficult.

Love and respect needed to be earned, and his father hadn’t done one f*cking thing to earn them. A glimpse of a future without his abusive dad in his lifesuddenly popped into his head, then settled into his soul and created a sense of peace he had never experienced before. He had cringed when he had seen Jonah standing on the dock, but their interaction was what he needed to pushthe effects of his dad’s abuse aside and move forward without it clouding his life.

“You know, mom used to tell me all the time I was just like you,” he continued coolly, shaking his head. “ You’re so much like your father, Negan. You have all his best qualities. I wish I knew what the f*ck she was talking about. I used to spend my nights lying in bed wondering what she saw in me that would make her think I was such a horrible human being. And I used to pray to f*cking God she was wrong, and that I would never be the deplorable, abusive, small f*cking person you are.”

He was startled when his father threw his head back and laughed at his words. Anger gone, he let out a genuine belly laugh, which was in direct contrast with the sinister glint in his eye. Sauntering back into Negan’s space, he chuckled once more. “She was right you know. You are just like your father, the holier than thou bastard.”

Utterly confused, Negan squinted at his father. “What the f*ck are you talking about?” Numbness washed over him as he tried to understand the comparison his father was making. It made no sense, yet it made all the sense in the world.

Before his brain had the chance to piece together what it was struggling to interpret, his father mocked,“What? You never figured it out, you moron?” The smirk his dad was wearing was one he had seen before. It was the look he always wore when he knew he had beaten him or his motherdown, emotionally. Still scrambling to make sense of what his father had insinuated, he finally put the man’s words together with his memories and some suspicions he had deliberately hidden, deep in a place he had never revisited. The result wasboth devastating and fantastically life altering.

Realizing Jonah was still speaking, he refocused himself on what was being said. He was hoping against hope for some confirmation, as the man’s acidity and bile rolled over him, he had come to the correct conclusion.

“...always threatened to tell you, but I knew she never would. She was too worried her saintly baby daddy would fall out of favor with the church. For some unknown f*cking reason, she couldn’t stand the thought someone would hold the asshole accountable for what he’d done.” Taking in the perplexed look on Negan’s face, the man goaded him, “You still haven’t figured it out, have you?"

“Yes, I’ve figured it out, you prick. You’re not my father.” Negan stated very matter-of-factly. “You’re not my father,” he repeated with a smile, his mind latching on to the positive implication of the statement and running with it.

A smile was the last thing Jonah was hoping for in response to his big reveal. It was the exactopposite of what he had expected, and he was disappointed he hadn’t done serious damage to the younger man'spsyche. Deciding to go for the jugular, to see if it would finally crush his wife’s ungrateful bastard of a son he divulged, “Thank the good f*cking lord, I’m not, you worthless sh*t! You haven’t figured it out yet!” he taunted. “Come on, Negan! Who’s your daddy?” he cooed sarcastically. “Are you too stupid to see it? Let me give you a big fat f*cking hint! Your mommy had a reason why she liked hanging outat Our Lady of Perpetual Faith and it wasn’t for Bible study. Father Benson liked to bend her over the altar!”

Negan’s self-satisfied expression faltered momentarily, encouraging Jonah to continue, “Yep! Your daddy left her high and dry, knocked up at seventeen, the holy rolling hypocrite. They both were lucky I was willing to step in and do the job he wasn’t willing to do. I took care of his whor* and his bastard son. And I kept his dirty little secret all these f*cking years! It would have been an lousy job to do if she hadn’t been willing to swallow my dick at the drop of a hat …"

The man’s sordid story was cut short by an uppercut to his jaw, sending him sprawling across the deck. Despite the impact, the man didn’t miss a beat, accusing, “You disrespectful asshole! Didn’t you hear me just tell you I took care of you when your real father wouldn’t?” Jonah rubbed his jaw, clumsily moving to his knees so he could stand up. “What kind of son would deck their old man when he’d saved their ass…"

Deliberately hiding his anger to thwart the man’s joy over rocking his world, he lifted his foot and shoved it into the asshole’schest, flattening him on the dock’s surface and holding him in place with what he knew was an uncomfortable amount of his weight. “Don’t ever call me son again,youinsufferable f*ck,” Negan growled. “And don’t ever let me see your face again, or I will permanently f*cking rearrange it.”

I need a f*cking scotch.

To celebrate.

__________

Negan’s first glass of Johnny Walker Red helped soothe him, quelling the agitation he felt over his run in with Jonah. While part of him wanted to do an end zone dance at the news he shared no genes with the abusive weasel, he couldn’t help he was worked up over their showdown. He had tried not to make it obvious, but the sh*t heel had thrown a load of TNT at him, shaking his foundation to the core. His mind was reeling, trying to sort through the less than savory details his father had revealed to him.

The second glass of double scotch he drank afforded him clarity while he sorted through a myriad of questions regarding his mother and Father Benson. His father.What the f*ck? The idea of the pair was almost unbelievable, yet it wasn’t. Rising from his chair on the deck, he made his way to his study and pulled an old photo album off the bookshelf which he took back out with him to continue his solo happy hour.

He flipped through the pages of the gold and orange, satin covered K-Mart keepsake his mother had filled with images of his childhood decades before. Baby photos taken at the local Sears Portrait Studio, the yearly elementary school photos on the ever-present blue backdrop, and snapshots of the important and not so important moments of his life. Finally landing on the page he was looking for, he studied the photos taken the day of his first communion. He had worn his brown suit and dress shoes for the special occasion, and his hair was combed neatly over his forehead. There was one of him standing in the vestibule waiting to walk up the aisle for the service, Father Benson standing in the background. There was a professional, naturally lit photo of Father placing the body of Christ on his tongue. He remembered the priest winking at him after he did so, and Negan had felt special since he hadn’t seen him wink at anyone else. There was a photo of his mother hugging him right after he had come back down the aisle when the service was over, and another of eight year old Negan, his mom, and Father Benson. This was the photograph he was looking for. It was right there in black and white for the whole world to see, yet not recognize. Negan Smith was the perfect mix of his mother and biological father’s genes. You are so much like your father. Holy f*cking f*ck .

Underneath the picture, in his mother’s elegant handwriting were the words, “Negan and father.”Not Father, or Father B as his parishioners liked to call him, but father. Was the slip up a mistake, or a hint for him to find once he was old enough to understand its meaning? He flipped through the rest of the album, noting there were quite a few photos of him posed with Father Benson throughout his childhood at different church functions. A few dozen, at least. There were no photos of him posed with Jonah. He remembered his mother taking photos, and seeing them after they were developed, but none of them had made it into the album. He hoped she f*cking burned them.

Once he had lined up a few dozen questions he needed answers for, scotch number three stoked a flame of anger. Unsure whether he was angrier with his mother or the good “Father”, the longer he pondered the truth of his existence, the more livid he became. Always having wondered why his mother had subjected them both to Jonah’s abuse, Negan’s disappointment over her neglect turned into turmoil at the idea she had let the sorry bastard stand in for his real father, let him beat her son down verbally and push him around physically. He was equally as angry at Father Michael Benson for abandoning Betty after he had knocked her up and for taking advantage of the seventeen year old girl while pretending to dedicate himself to God and the church. f*cker.

His fourth double scotch was never finished. After a few sips of the liquid, he left it, the bottle, and the photo album on the table and went into the master bedroom, passing out for the night.

________

The teachers of the physical education department at Mount Vernon High School had seen Negan’s mood swings before. They thought they had seen the worst of them when his wife was suffering with terminal cancer. They quickly learned they were mistaken. One moment the man was unusually quiet and pensive, the next they were caught up in a tempest of fury. Those in his path were subject to veritable tsunami of rage fueled by an unpredictable shift in an unseen, tectonic plate. No one had an inkling of why the department head’s normally slightly offensive but bearable demeanor had shifted to one so out of control. Merle Dixon was the only person who thought he knew why. He had heard through the grapevine the Russian prick was back in town.

Tara was hit with the first wave of anger after she had the nerve to ask Negan for the third time, whether he thought Gigi would be able to work her magic with Under Armour to get new equipment and goals for her lacrosse team. She was informed by the man with an angry vein popping out on his forehead, “When hell freezes the over, I’ll ask our illustrious cheerleading coach to prostitute herself out to the company one more time for the sake of our school, because you are too lazy to do the leg work for the donations yourself.”

Shane Walsh was the next to incur a surge of the man’s wrath after school the next day, when Michonne inquired if any of her fellow teachers knew why Gigi was in the hospital. He had joked ballet’s princess probably had taken the time off to polish her tiaras and organize her tutus. No sooner were the words out of his mouth when Negan pushed him into the wall hard enough to make a point, but not hard enough to cause harm. Despite the department head’s self-control, the act was out of line. “What did I tell you about talking trash about your coworkers, Walsh?” he snarled, referring to the night Shane had suggested Baryshnikov had donated money to the school in return for sexual favors from Gigi.

Seeing an ugly storm brewing behind Negan’s eyes, he opted for an overt effort to diffuse the situation, raising his hands in surrender next to his head, murmuring soothingly, “It was just a joke, man. A joke . Not talking trash. You know I like Gigi,” He held eye contact, raising his eyebrows in a plea for forgiveness. “Come on, man.” The football coach seemed to be losing his mind, and he didn’t want to be responsible for unleashing the madness.

“Ya better calm the hell down, amigo,” Negan heard behind him after the teachers had dispersed, heading off to their respective afterschool activities. Merle stood behind him, his trash cart next to him. He was making his way from office to office, emptying the waste cans and had been coming out of Pauls’ office when he heard the scuffle around the corner. “Ifyadon’t reel in your bullsh*t,yergonnagetyerselffired.”

“Shut the f*ck up, Merle,” Negan bit back at him.

“Nah,” he refused. “Ya needtahear it. You’ve beenrunnin’ around withyerpanties in a twist sinceyersh*t when down with Gigi, and instead ofmannin’ up andhandlin’ it,yertakin’ it out on all the wrong people.”

“You don’t know what the f*ck you’re talking about!” The coach stormed over to him, pulling himself up to his full height, priming himself for a brawl, not caring it would be with his best friend.

“I begtadiffer withya,” his buddy responded calmly. He wasn’t intimidated by the asshole in front of him. Though he and Negan had never duked it out, the man didn’t know Merle Dixon was the king of fighting dirty. It was something he had learned when he was young. His drunken father may have had a foot in height on histwelve year oldson, but a swift kick in the nuts, or a fist to the throat had been enough to knock the man down long enough to grab his baby brother and run into the woods behind their trailer, where the pair would hide out until he was sure his father had passed out for the night. Once he was older and taller, he didn’t run anymore. He stayed and fought, employing whatever means necessary to eliminate the immediate threat.

“You know what?” Negan spit back at him, finally releasing the dammed-up anger which had been building since he had seen Misha cooing at Gigi at the hospital. “You can give up this f*cking pretense you’resome kind of therapist. You don’t know sh*t!” The tsunami hadcrested, andwas crashing down full force on Merle. Once the venom started to flow, there was no chance of stopping it. Negan went on with his rant even though he could hear himself, and he had the presence of mind to know he was being a Class A dick, hitting his friend with a load of verbal abuse. It was something he swore he never would do, behave like Jonah. “Soyou can take yourwannabe counseling session and shove it up your f*cking ass.” Pushing his friend with an index finger to the chest, a challenge was issued. The coach held his position, his nose six inches from the other man’s face while he goaded him further. “Gigi may buy into your pathetic attempt to pretend to know what the f*ck you’re talking about, but I don’t.”

It taxed Merle’s last bit of self-control to stop himself from cold co*cking the man in front of him. He kept his cool facade, knowing a level head would end the showdown with the least amount of damage to either of them. Raising his hand slowly, he used the back of it to gently move Negan’s finger away from his chest, then he turned back to his cart and wheeled it to the next office to continue with his task. “You’re lucky I’m walkin’ away, amigo,” he insisted, opening Michonne’s door and disappearing inside.

Chapter 40: Missing Pieces

Chapter Text

Thursday,October15th

He was tired after a full day at the hospital, tending to those in need.The nurses were always telling him he was a saint for spending so much time volunteering to visit thosewho had no one else to do it. Bishop Michael Benson was no saint. Far from it. He was simply a man who had dedicated his life to God and the Catholic church. He was also a man who could deeply relate to the patients who had no immediate family to visit them when they needed the comfort only the family bond could bring.

It had been five years since he had stopped overseeing the hundred and seven churches in and around Oklahoma Cityand moved into a supporting role at his local parish, Holy Trinity, working a minimum number ofhours per week. One never fully retired from the priesthood, one simply faded into the background, sitting on the advisory committee, speaking on occasion, hosting bible study on Wednesday evenings and attendingthe pancake breakfast the women’s auxiliary held on the second Saturday of every month.

This Saturday, however, it wouldn’t be a breakfast the flock would be attending in the social hall, it would be a luncheon to honor his seventy fifth birthday, and fifty-five years of service. Aside from Mrs. O’Malley and her ever present and dreaded vegan, gluten-free lasagna, the women of Holy Trinity were fantastic cooks, and Joan Ingalls had promised to make pumpkin cheesecake, since she knew it was his favorite.

“Thank you, Finn,” the bishop smiled, patting the young priest on the shoulder and exiting from the car. “I appreciate you picking me up and giving me a ride home, as always.”

“Do you want help getting into the house, Bishop? You forgot to leave the porch light on.”

The older man laughed at his counterpart’s blunder. “A blind man doesn’t need lights to see, Finn,” he declared dramatically. “He only needs the light of Jesus in his heart to illuminate his way.” Leaning back into the car he murmured out of the side of his mouth, despite his utter lack of worry someone might overhear, “How’s that for a line of devout bullcrap?”

Laughing delightedly, the driver confided, “You know, Bishop, I’m not sure who God is going to turn away at the pearly gates, you for your blasphemy, or me for egging you on.”

Chuckling at the idea, the bishop responded, “It’ll surely be you, Finn, because when you arrive sixty years from now I’ll already be sitting at God’s right hand, whispering in his ear about what a misfit you are!” Hearing the man’s laughter once more, he stepped back from the car, and shut the door. Pulling his new fangled cane out of his pocket he extended it to its full length. He was using it more for the priest’s piece of mind than out of need. Once he had gently slid his toe forward along the grass next to the curb to find the edge of the sidewalk, he knew exactly how many steps he would walk to reach the front gate and how many more he would need before he had to lift his foot to ascend to the covered front porch of his home. He also knew, on footstep seven, the crumbling cement of the path would crunch under his left foot and on step twelve he would feel the small mound of weeds which had grown along the crack in the walkway, since he kept forgetting to bring a putty knife outside to scrape it away and smooth his journey.

Pulling his keys from his pocket, he made his way up the three steps to his front door and unlocked it. Hearing an obligatory clearing of the throat people always felt was necessary to make their presence known, he turned to the sound, waiting for the greeting he knew would follow. He wasn’t surprised he had company, since everyone knew Bishop Benson’s door was proverbially open at any time of day or night for those in need. People found respite with him when they needed to give an unofficial confession, or when they needed a break after a fight with their spouse. They may stop by to let the bishop know they had been hired for a new job after they had taken his tips to heart on how to give a top-notch interview, or when they needed a shot of whiskey to smooth over life’s rough edges.

While the bishop wasn’tsurprisedhe had a visitor, he was surprised the person hadn’t announced their visit by calling to him while he was walking up the path, and also hadn't walked down to meet him to offer an arm to help him inside, which was also common. He may be seventy-four years and three hundred and sixty-three days old and blind, but he was in no way feeble, so his parishioners' and friends' constant offers of help amused him, as well as touched him.

“So who might I have the pleasure of sharing a shot of Jameson with tonight?” he inquired, turning fully in the direction of the Adirondack chairs his late mother had placed on the front porch decades ago so she and his father could watch the traffic go by in the evenings. When several seconds passed without a response, his brow furrowed while he listened for sounds of motion or an answer. The silence wasn’t worrisome for him. He was used to the quiet which inevitably came before people confessed their sins or asked for his help.

“It’s Negan Smith,” his caller finally introduced himself.

Without missing a beat, he retorted, “Well it’s a good thing I just bought a new fifth of whiskey then, isn’t it?”

_____________

Monday, October 12th

What the f*ck is wrong with me? That man is likemyf*cking brother.

It had taken twenty-three minutes for his anger to calm down after his run in with Merle. A full twenty-three minutes before he finally realized he was the worst kind of asshole, his anger driving him to say and do things he normally wouldn’t. When his buddy had implied Negan would lose in a physical altercation, his first instinct was to follow him into the office and pummel his ass to prove him wrong. He had even taken a few steps in the direction before he had come to his senses and turned to head out to the football field for practice.

Stunned at how his anger and behavior had escalated to such a high level, he found it disconcerting he had lost control of himself. Along with momentarily wanting to hurt the man, he had been the worst kind of asshole, calling his friend out on aspects of his life which were sore spots for him. Merle had lamented more than once, when they had been drinking, he wished he had finished high school. Sure, he had gotten his high school equivalency a handful of years later, but in his mind it wasn’t the same. He had been pretty good in auto shop in the eleventh grade, he had confided, and he would have liked to have gone on to a trade school or gotten an apprenticeship somewhere to work his way up to owning his own place. He always pictured himself and Daryl as the owners of Dixon Brothers Car & Cycle Repair.

“You can still go to trade school, Merle. They have all sorts of night school programs,” Negan had encouraged him, but his buddy’s answer was always the same. “Nah. I’m too old for that sh*t.” The coach suspected he harbored some concern he wouldn’t be able to keep up with the younger students.

Iknowthe fact he had dropped out ofschoolbothershim, and I rubbed his face in it. Just like Jonahalwaysdidto me. Finding an open wound and pouring salt in it. f*ck, f*ck and more f*cking f*ck.

He had also told Merle to keep his nose out of his business, which they both knew was a joke. He couldn’t begin to count the number of times he had taken his buddy’s sage advice to heart. Surprisingly, the man was exceptionally wise. He could read a situation, and see through all the bullsh*t clouding a solution, and lay it all out on the table for Negan to see.

“Is it really worth a third week with blue balls, amigo? Just stopfightin’ with her, suck it up, an’ paint the bedroom mint green like she wants. Who gives a sh*t what color the walls are whenyerscrewin’ ‘er, or whenyersleepin’, for Christ’s sake? Think about it. What does Lucille do every timeyagoouttayour waytadosomethin’ nice fer ‘er or let her have ‘er way? Ya get the good blow j*b and she letsyaride ‘er like a bucking bronco a couple a times in the same week. Soyagettachoose – blue paint an’ blue balls, or mint green an’ a triptathe rodeo. I’mthinkin’ green sounds like a mighty fine color.”

“...So if ya know Rick’s a prick, why’re ya gettin' yer panties in a twist every time he questions what yer doin’ in yer department? It’s the man’s way a feeling like he’s got some control, when he ain’t got any. Just play along, give him a rundown a what ya got brewin’ in the phys ed department and he’ll crawl outta yer ass faster. The longer ya try ‘n avoid ‘im, the longer he’s gonna stay up there.”

Negan had never acknowledged his buddy had been helpful to him. He would simply nod thoughtfully when Merle would impart his wisdom or move on to an unrelated topic and then nine times out oftenhe would implement what had been suggested. Merle knew it, yet he never said, “I toldyaso”, which Negan seriously f*cking appreciated. The man also never threw his sh*t back in his face, even though he had realized after the fact some of his rants were laughable. Yet he couldn’t afford him the same f*cking courtesy.

f*ck.

___________

Sunday, October 11th

“You need to tell him, Gigi Ray, sooner rather than later. If you wait too long, he could view it as a betrayal.”

Mikhail had cancelled or rescheduled his rehearsals and business meetings, sending Estelle home with the assurance he would stay with her daughter and grandchildren through the weekend.

The ballerina looked at him, raising one eyebrow at him in doubt. “I still don’t understand why you are suddenly so pro-Negan, Misha.” When he didn’t answer her, focusing on mixing them both a vodka martini, she responded to his suggestion. “I will. I am just starting to feel like I have enough energy to take a walk next door and talk to him.”

“I’m not necessarily pro-Negan. I’m pro-Gigi,” her bartender remarked, peeling a thin slice of lemon rind with a paring knife, twisting it over her co*cktail. He rubbed it around the rim of the glass and then dropped it in her drink. He slid hers across the island towards her and took a sip of his own. “So, if he makes you happy, I’ll support your relationship.As long ashe is good to you,” he qualified, giving her a stern look over the rim of his martini glass.

Misha hadn’t had a massive change of heart where the man was concerned. He had simply gained a greater understanding of what made Negan tick. The day after Gigi had come home from the hospital, he had checked on her to see if she needed anything. When he had walked into the master bedroom, she was sound asleep. He was about to back out of the room and close the door when he heard loud voices in the back yard. The French doors were open, the fall breeze blowing through them, carrying a loud conversation with it. Glancing outside when he moved to close the doors, he had spied Negan and another man in a heated conversation.

What little he heard was full of huge implications. When the older of the two referred to Negan’s wife and his own as c*nts, Mikhail pieced together he was Negan’s father. The hateful words and those which followed had sickened him, and he shut the doors quickly and quietly, not wanting the argument to wake up hismalyshka. He was embarrassed for Gigi’s neighbor, for having witnessed his father verbally berating the grown man and disparaging other members of their family.

WhileNeganhadseemed toholdhis own in the argument, it was clear his father was abusive, and itwasa long-standing pattern of behavior. He wondered if his father had ever hit him or his mother. The coach’s brash personality suddenly made all the sense in the world to him, forcing him to view the man in a whole new light. Forcing him to soften his opinion.

After flipping on the master bath fan to create white noise for Gigi’s nap, he had left the room, closing the door behind him.

__________

“He never visited you at the hospital?” Carol questioned Gigi on the phone. She was stymied by the fact Negan never showed his face in her friend’s room, especially after he had sounded so determined to get there.

“He never did. I can’t help but wonder if he’s given up on us. I suppose I need to think about moving on, but Misha is telling me to give him time to come to his senses. He said he’s caught Negan looking toward my house with his big puppy dog eyes when he’s putzing around in his back yard or on the dock. Mish thinks he misses me, but he may just need more time,” Gigi shared.

“Really? Misha is defending Negan?”

“I couldn’t believe it either, but he said he can relate to needing space to work things out.” After a moment of silence she chuckled, “Maybe I need to look at why all the men in my life need space from me!”

“It’s because you’re a pain in the butt,” Carol teased her. “You’re lucky you’re loveable, and you have a mother who makes killer French pastries, or you’d be hopeless.”

“You’re not joking. On all accounts,” the ballerina laughed at herself.

“Mishareally caught him looking your way, more than once?”

“He said he looked downright pathetic. Which made me happy,” Gigi confessed, smiling to herself. “How horrible am I?”

“Very,” Carol agreed with her, admitting, “but I’dfeelthe same way.”

__________

Tuesday, October 13th

6:32 PM

Sorry I was a

total f*cking

prick.

10:03 PM Merle

sh*thead is more

like it.

The message was followed by a middle finger emoji. Negan figured it was a start.

_______________

Wednesday,October14th

“What happened to you? Gigi said you never visited her at the hospital,” Carol questioned from the doorway of Negan’s office before she walked in. He had left it open for the few minutes he was doing some deskwork before school started. Seeing the arched eyebrow and pursed lips which hinted at her bad attitude, he suddenly wished he had closed it. What f*cking now, lady?

Luckily, Negan was more levelheaded after a few days of stewing about Gigi, his own behavior as of late, and the recently revealed, Father is my father situation. He felt like he had a f*ck load of bullsh*t hanging over him, and he still needed to find his f*cking way out from under it.

He didn’t look up from his computer when he answered, “What happened was, I rushed to the hospital as soon as I could, only to find Gigi’s Russian boyfriend already there, fawning all the f*ck over her.”

“So what?”

Negan’s fingers stalled over his keyboard momentarily before they started typing again. He didn’t know why he was engaging with the woman. What had happened was none of her damn business. But it maybe, sort of, felt like a relief to talk about it with someone who knew all the parties involved and knew how Prancer operated. Finally looking up from his work he stared at her over the top edge of his reading glasses at her with annoyance. “So, she obviously didn’t need me there, Carol, as you seemed to think.”

“So that’s it?” she challenged him. “Because Misha was there you just ran away with your tail between your legs and never bothered to let her know you were concerned about her? You hid in a corner to lick your wounds and made it all about you instead of worrying about what she needs right now?” Walking up to the front edge of his desk she placed both hands on its surface and leaned over it as she continued taking him to task. “At some point, Negan, you’re going to need to pull your head out of your ass and concentrate on her needs and feelings instead of your own.”

In contrast to the anger he had displayed towards everyone around him over the last handful of days, Negan was amused with the former mouse’s feistiness. He always had loved a spunky gal, whether he was sleeping with them or not. I’m not going to tell her she’s right. f*ck that.

“Why would she need me to do that, when she already has Misha to satisfy her every need? He's been staying with her; taking care of her since she came home from the hospital. I’m sure she’s just fine with him kissing her toes for comfort!”

Carol didn’t know what the toe remark was all about, but she wasn’t buying into his self-pity party. “For God’s sake, Negan! Don’t you think it’s time you get over Misha? She chose you, you big fat baby. She gave up a man she had been in love with ... forever and picked you. Why? I’ll never know since you’re so damned emotionally stunted!” She huffed in frustration, rolling her eyes before adding, “And why she hasn’t given up on you and moved on, or told Misha she made a mistake should be your primary concern at this point, since anyone else would have left you in their wake by now!” She didn’t know what she was doing, pushing the man’s buttons, when she had heard his mood had been volatile over the last week.

The coach took off his glasses and sat back in his desk chair, chewing on one of the earpieces as he squinted at the woman in front of him. Emotionally f*ckingstunted? She had a lot of f*cking nerve, getting in his face about Gigi. “I honestly don’t know why she hasn’t moved on,” he confessed to his own surprise. I wouldn’t say I’m stunted. Stunted is a little f*cking harsh. “ But I’m glad she hasn’t.”

Why the f*ck am I telling her this sh*t? Maybe he was hoping she would run back to Gigi and tell her what he couldn’t. You’re acting like you’re in f*cking high school. Carol, can you tell Gigi I still like her? Jesus.

Maybe I am stunted.

Startled by his honesty, Carol took a moment to collect herself and finally revealed softly, “She loves you . She wants you . Stop making excuses and step up and be who she needs you to be. She’s not asking anything unreasonable of you.” When he didn’t respond she added. “And stop making such a big deal out of what happened in your past. Stop focusing on what you did wrong before and focus on what you need to do now.”

“Jesus! Has she told you every f*cking detail about our relationship?”

“Of course!” Carol responded as if his question was ludicrous. "We're women." Softening her tone, she continued, “Gigi obviously feels there’s something in you worth waiting for, or she would have moved on. Especially since you’re giving her nothing to hold on to. It’s been almost two months, you jerk. Not only that, but she just went through something huge, and the one person she needed the most wasn’t there for her.”

“She told you that?” So, she likes me, too? Do you think I should ask her to f*cking prom? What the hell, Negan?

Jesus. I am so f*cking emotionally stunted.

“She didn’t have to.”

Rubbing his temples in lieu of an answer, he eventually grunted in discontent. Carol wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t know. She was, however, imparting a sense of urgency in him. She was affirming his good f*cking girl was waiting patiently for him, but his time was running out.

“Are you done?” he questioned impatiently.

“For now.”

“Good. Get out,” he barked.

She laughed as she left his office, unfazed by his gruff manners.

__________

Thursday, October 15th before dawn

Gigi stirred from her sleep at two in the morning, the feeling of her Negan washing over her and warming her soul like a favorite blanket. Before she had time to think about why she had tuned into him, she heard him fiddling with the door handle to let himself into her room. Opening her eyes, she hopped out of bed, moving quickly to let him in. She wasn’t capable of playing it cool, or feigning disinterest. Be honest. It felt as if she couldn’t move fast enough, she was so excited he had come to her in the night.

He was on her in a flash, stepping up behind her in the dark as she closed the door to keep out the chilly autumn air. Gently moving her body with his own until she was standing with her hands on the glass panes in front of her, he wrapped himself around her from behind. Splaying one hand over her belly, he entwined the fingers of his other with hers on the glass. A whimper escaped her when he nuzzled the back of her head and neck with his nose, pulling her flush against him with the hand on her stomach.

Negan’s chest constricted at the sound, driving him to confess, “I’ve missed you, Gigi.Sof*cking much.”

Gigi was sure his words were the most romantic she had ever heard, his feelings laid out for her, honest and raw. Remaining silent, she waited, hoping he would continue.

Being physically and emotionally separated from her had made Negan hyper aware of what he was missing. Trying to put together a puzzle which would be essential to settle his past and his future, he had been stymied. He knew he was missing some important pieces but was unsure where or how to find them. Who the f*ck had he become? More important was the question of who he wanted to be. What drove him to cheat on Lucille over and over? Did he have it in him to be faithful?

With his dancer in his arms again, important pieces of the puzzle started snapping into place without prompting. His girl was his center piece; thecrucial piece of the puzzle, which when missing, turns what should be a complete and amazingpicture into something forever unfinished and worthless. His middle piece. The most important piece. She was everything. Every. f*cking.Thing. Holding her again made it clear as f*cking day what his life would be like without her. An existence. Something incomplete and mediocre. Nothing more.

He wouldn’t f*cking lose her. For the first time inweekshe was clear headed, his thoughts finally coming together to formulate a cohesive plan about what he needed to do to get past his current roadblock and have her back in his arms for good.

“I’m taking too long to figure out how to move forward with you, Gigi. I know it, and I don't deserve your patience” he finally murmured decisively. The words came easily in the dark, with his girl standing in a position close to his favorite submissive stance.

He was assuming she still wanted him, based on what Carol had intimated. ‘ She obviously feels there’s something in you worth waiting for, or she would have moved on.’

“I’m getting hung up on rule number five,” he continued. “Always be honest. I want to tell you I’ll be faithful and know with one hundred percent certainty I will be. It’s not a matter of being unsure I love you, or that you are enough to make me happy. This is all about me being f*cked in the head. I’ve been such a f*cking loser in the past. I don’t want to end up lying to you. Or hurting you. I’m trying to work through it. I just hope to f*ck I can.”

He paused, placing a kiss on her temple, collecting his thoughts again before he continued. “I know I wasn’t there for you when you needed me this week … and I know it’s no excuse, but a dump truck full of sh... garbage … backed up and unloaded on me, Gigi. And I’m trying to wade through it, along with the huge f*cking mess I’ve made between us.

“I just need a little more time. I know you said I shouldn’t take too long...” his voice trailed off, his frustration with himself evident as he removed his hand from hers and gently grabbed her sleep mussed tresses. Pulling her head to the side and nibbling his way down her neck, he reminded her what she was waiting for, hoping it was enough to keep her hanging on. He knew he was playing dirty, but he didn’t give a flying f*ck.

“Mmmmm. I’m not going anywhere. Unless you tell me to stop waiting for you,” she panted, feeling him nod as he lay a trail of open-mouthed kisses across her shoulder. “And you know I’ll help in any way I can, if you need me.”

It distressed her to hear he had been having a hard time himself, yet she couldn’t fault him for not running to her to confide in her. She knew Negan was self-reliant when it came to handling what life threw at him. Though she wished he would lean on her, she could relate to his withdrawal since she was in the same head space after her visit to the hospital. Whereas she normally sought out comfort from others when she was struggling, her miscarriage was something she needed to work out in her own mind before she shared it with him. She wasn’t quite ready.

So good for me, my good girl. Too f*cking good. She knows I’m a selfish f*cking prick, and yet she’s still willing to wait for me. Tightening his arms around her, he ran his lips around the shell of her ear before whispering, “You are f*cking amazing, tiny dancer.”

They clung to each other for a long time, unmoving, comfortable in their silence. Negan’s fingertips caressed Gigi’s belly, and he ran his lips and nose over her jawline and shoulder. She enjoyed the affection. Maybe she was foolish, thinking he would work out whatever he felt was keeping them apart. Perhaps she was naïve, believing it wasn’t just a line to keep her hanging on. What was keeping her from the negative line of thinking was the fact she could physically feel his frustration over their current situation, and practically taste his longing for her.

Several minutes of silence went by before he inquired, “Are you okay, Gigi? Why did you have to spend time in the hospital? Marshall said something about pancreatitis?” His hands began to wander over her as he questioned her, almost as if he was checking to be sure she was, in fact, okay.

She enjoyed his physical examination, smiling to herself at the unwitting act while his hands ran up and down her sides, then up her back to her neck. She reveled in every second of his attention, wishing it could lead to more. She wasn’t capable physically, though, and he wasn’t ready emotionally. He finally threaded his fingers through her hair and massaged her scalp with both hands. “Mmmm, Negan,” she hummed softly in her pleasure before her mood shifted to one more melancholy.

“It wasn’t pancreatitis.” She revealed, trying to sound neutral about the matter.

“What’s wrong, Gigi?”

It was more of a command than a question the second time, and she could hear the edge in his tone and feel his body tense, his fingers stilling in her hair as he waited for her response. It didn’t take her long to figure out what was causing his agitation, and her heart ached for him. Turning in his arms she reached up to run her thumb over his lips. “I’m fine, Negan,” she reassured him, touched by his worry for her. “Absolutely fine. Healthy as a horse,” she informed him lightly, allaying any possible worry she was suffering from something physically devastating or fatal as his wife had. “Well, a horse with a bum knee, but that will be fixed soon enough.

“I want to tell you what happened. But at the right time,” she proposed. “Now isn’t the right time.” Gigi knew in her heart it was true. Negan obviously had enough turmoil to deal with, and she wasn’t going to add to it. It was simply the right thing to do, no matter what anyone else was telling her. Feeling his discontent with her response she added, “Trust me?”

His head nodded in her hand before he settled into her, resting his lips on the top of her head and breathing her in for a time. Gently pulling her hair to force her to look up at him, he barely grazed his lips along hers, teasing her with a hint of the affection she loved the most from him. She whimpered and huffed in frustration as he toyed with her, and he thoroughly f*cking enjoyed the sounds of her desire for him, reveling in her validation of his worth, his good f*cking middle piece.

_____________

Twenty-six minutes and three quarters of a Johnny Walker Black after leaving Gigi, Negan had formulated his plan. Having trudged through mire for weeks, ten minutes with his dancer had cleared his mind. Her scent, the feel of her body molded to his, her longing for him, her patience after he’d left her hanging for too goddamn long, and the fact she totally and utterly f*cking understood him were all like a hefty dose of Adderall, pulling his chaotic thoughts together.

The same questions had been running through his mind over and over as he attempted to discern what it would take to meet Gigi’s challenge and set his bar high, reach it and swing his ass up to perch on it for good. He had been stuck in the same circle of unproductive questions, self-criticism and doubt, and he couldn’t just sit on his hands and expect the answers to fall in his f*cking lap.

Surprisingly, new questions had been raised, while others had been answered during Jonah’s explosive visit. The asshole’s big reveal had been meant to torment and mar him, yet interestingly it had fueled a sense of comfort and relief for Negan, along with adding several bullet points to his list of questions.

After pouring his scotch, he had spent seventeen minutes searching the web for a path to answers he needed. Introspection was Negan’s least favorite past time, and thisparticular journeywasn't going to be a relaxing hike through Serenity Springs, but more a bare assed trek through a f*cking briar patch. Despite the discomfort he knew would be involved, he felt driven to pull on his hiking boots and load up his backpack. Powering down his PC, he glanced at the brown paper napkin with a hand drawn likeness of Negan Smith, superhero, complete with a flowing cape which his girl had left in front of his office door after he had stepped in to defend her against Philip Blake’s two goons. He had taped it to his monitor because he got a big f*cking kick out of it. Smirking at the caricature, he headed to bed for the night.

___________

Thursday, October 15th

6:32 AM

I love you and

your tinies, you know.

6:33 AM Gigi

You make my heart sing. ♥

6:35 AM

Understandable.

“Just tell him I have a family emergency,” Negan groused into the phone a few minutes after he sent his text to Gigi. Pulling his wallet out of his pocket, he fished some bills out of it and handed them to the taxi driver for his fare and a tip. Getting out of the cab, he grabbed his duffel bag from the back seat and stood at the curb to finish his conversation. “Yes, another family emergency Olivia, and tell Principal Grimes I don’t know how many days I’ll need off. I’ll update him as soon as I have the chance.” Hearing the woman start to stammer a response, he ended the call, stuffing his phone in his jacket pocket with a frustrated shake of his head before he headed inside the airport. Three hours of sleep was going to make for a long f*cking day if he didn’t have the chance to get some shut eye.

______________

“It’s Negan Smith,” the visitor finally introduced himself.

Without missing a beat, Bishop Benson retorted, “Well it’s a good thing I just bought another fifth of whiskey then, isn’t it?” It was several seconds before the reply came, and the older man could feel appraising eyes on him.

“Lead the way, Sir.”

Chapter 41: Forgive Me Father, For I Have Sinned

Chapter Text

“Good afternoon, my child,” the deep, friendly voice greeted him from behind the privacy screen in the confessional booth.

“Good afternoon father,” thenine year oldboy greeted the priest. Crossing himself he added, “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.”

“May the Lord’s grace comfort you as you confess your sins.”

Negan could tell it was Father Benson on the other side of the screen. His Mom had told him the screen was there so he could tell his sins without the Father knowing who was confessing. He could tell by the man’s voice who was there, and he wondered if the priest could tell who he was, too. He was pretty sure he could.

“Forgive me father, for I have sinned,”Neganrecited. “It’s been twelve days since my last confession.”

“And what atrocities have you committed in the last twelve days that you need to share with our Lord?” Father B inquired.

The boy could tell the priest was smiling, and the question made him giggle. He really liked confession with Father Benson. He was funny, and Negan could tell the man all his sins and he would be forgiven. He could confess, for the millionth time, he hadn’t honored his father. He could say he couldn’t stand that his dad was mad at him all the time, and Father B didn’t even make him feel bad about it. Not only would he act like he understood, but he would make it all better, too. After he said all his Hail Mary’s, God forgot his sins and he was forgiven, like his mom had promised him.

He also liked how the priest always made him feel better about what he had done wrong. His mom always told him he could wash away all his sins, his worries and his pain with confession. As weird as it sounded, she was kinda right. But he knew he didn’t feel better because he confessed and was forgiven. He always felt better when he finished confession because Father Benson always knew the right thing to say to make him feel better about his life.

Negan only wished he could tell the man everything. He never really told the whole truth in confession, because his mother had told him, again and again, it wasn’t polite to air your dirty laundry and ‘some things we should be keep to ourselves because they are private’.

“You need to remember your father loves you very much, Negan,” Father had told him when he had revealed his father was angry with him a lot. He may not be able to show you or tell you, the way other fathers do with their children, but he is very, very proud of you.”

YoungNeganhad a hard time believing it was true. “How do you know he loves me, Father? He sure doesn’t act like it.”

“You’re forgetting who I work for, young man. God knows all and sees all, and I have an in with him,” Father Benson teased. The tone of his voice changed to one very serious when he informed Negan, “He can see inside your father’s mind and his heart. Your father talks to God and tells him how you mean the world to him, and how he wishes he could tell you how much he loves you. He loses sleep over it.

“I know it’s hard, living with a man who seems to hold no affection for you. Trust me, though, when I tell you there is something making it impossible for your father to tell you how very, very proud he is of you and how very much he loves you and your mother. He would tell you every day if he could. You must trust me when I tell you that,Negan. Do you trust me?”

“Yes, sir,” the boy tried to convince the man behind the screen, because he sounded like it was really important to Father Benson that he believe his words. And Negan did want to believe what the priest was telling him. He wanted the wonderful words to be true. He wanted the loving dad Father B was talking about to be his dad. It was easy to believe the words were the truth, sequestered from the world in the quiet of the confessional booth.

“But why can’t he tell us he loves us?”Neganquestioned. “He could just say it.”

“Trust me,Negan. Life can be complicated sometimes. There may be something beyond your understanding, keeping your father from sharing his heart with you.”

It wasn’t until years later Negan realized priests don’t normally give advice in confession, and confession didn’t normally last thirty minutes, unless the confessor had a lot to unload. Heassumed the man could hear the stress his family life was causing him and had tried to help him cope. It had worked. His time in the confessional booth had been a respite from his difficult life.

The priest’s words about his dad had comforted him, over and over when he was young, despite the fact there was many a day when he’d had a hard time believing the priest’s words were true. He had clung to the words for years, telling himself Father Benson wouldn’t lie to him, when Jonah was doing his best to make Negan and his mom feel worthless.

All those years ago, he had never questioned Father Benson’s honesty, but he had questioned whether Father B had his voice confused with someone else’s the day he reassured him about his father’s love for him. As hard as he had tried, he never found any love in his dad’s actions or words. If his dad loved him, he had pondered, why would he spend so much time telling him what a loser he was?

As the years passed,Negan’sfaith in Father Benson’s words had lessened. He knew the man believed them to be true, yet he questioned what the f*ck the man of the cloth had been talking about and where his misguided sentiments had come from. Jonah’s revelation about his paternity hadfinallybrought thepriest‘s words into focus for him. Replaying them in his mind, he couldn’t decide whether the reassurance had been precious or whether it was a total load of bullsh*t.

_____________

The bishop motioned his guest to the couch a few feet inside the front door while he walked to the sideboard on the other side of the room and poured two Jameson whiskeys straight up. Walking seven steps back toward the couch he held both glasses out. “Take your pick,” he offered. “The one on my right is a double, the left is closer to a triple.” He wasn’t surprised when the highball glass was removed from his left hand, or when his guest chuckled along with him at choosing the heftier pour. Negan had always had a great sense of humor, wicked and slightly warped, even as a child. It was much like his own.

Quiet settled over the room and he could hearNegantake a long drink of his liquor. The bishop joined him, humming with satisfaction at the taste of his whiskey before he began to speak. “I heard your mother passed away a few years ago. I was very sorry to hear it. Astrokewasn’t it?” Turning and taking the three steps to his favorite armchair, he reached out to feel for the coaster which was always on the table next to it. Sitting his drink on it, he put his hand on the arm of the chair and turned and sat down in it, waiting for the answer to his query.

“Yes.” The response came after several seconds. “It was over in a matter of seconds. Quick and painless.”Negantook another drink of his whiskey, listening to the silence as he geared up to talk about why he had come to Oklahoma City. “I’m sure you can guess why I’m here.”

After working through his shock and upset over the fact his mother had lied to him, anger had set in and festered over the fact his biological father had abandoned him, leaving him in the hands of an abuser. He had stewed in his resentment, scripting the sarcastic questions he would ask and the sardonic comebacks he could spew to every possible response and excuse the bishop might give. Now that he was back in the man’s presence, though, the edge was wearing off his anger, and he found himself more interested in answers than rebukes.

It was Father Benson's turn to take a long drink of his whiskey before he nodded. “Did Jonah finally let our secret out, or have you been sitting on it since before your mother died?” It seemed like a simple, curious question, but in his mind the answer would tell him how Negan felt about the news.

“Jonah took great pleasure in revealing who my real father was during an argument a few days ago.

The bishop nodded, sharing, “I’m sorry Jonah was the one to tell you, son, but I’m very glad you’ve come to me for answers.” After another sip of his drink, he reached up with his free hand and removed his clerical collar with deft fingers. Placing it on the table next to him, he winked at Negan. “Did you catch that? A little symbolic gesture before I give you my unofficial confession.”

The wink took Negan back to his childhood. To his confirmation ceremony. To the time when he was seven and had to be reminded in Sunday school that as tempting as it may seem, pushing the local bully, Donny Jenkins, into a mud puddle outside the chapel wasn’t the appropriate way to handle his anger. Negan had never thought about the irony of a blind man winking, but Father Benson had always had an unconventional sense of humor. It was one of the things which had drawn him to the priest all those years ago.

“Vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord,” the priest had quoted after Donny had stomped away from the puddle, then leaning down to talk in his ear he’d intimated, “Leave it to God to push him into a proverbial puddle, if he feels it’s warranted.” He smirked with his wink when he added, “You know that other bible verse, ‘As you sow, so shall ye reap’? What you give to the world is what you get back. Do you want to end up being pushed into a mud puddle?”

Young Negan had considered what the priest had offered. While he liked the idea of pushing Donny in the mud, he didn’t want to get shoved in a puddle himself. Smiling up at the priest, he decided, “I’ll let God do it, I guess. Donny’s so mean he’ll be eating mud a lot.” The priest had walked off, chuckling to himself.

“Do you want the whole story? Or the Reader’s Digest condensed version?” the bishop offered him the choice, settling himself further into his chair and resting one elbow on its arm. He stretched his long legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles asNeganoften did when he was relaxing.

“I need it all.” He watched the man grind his molars together as he figured out how to start his story. He huffed out a silent chuckle when he realized he had the same habit. He also had the same long eyelashes, and dimple in his chin.

There was no prelude before the bishop’s story came pouring out of him. It was one which had been bottled up inside him for decades, and he was relieved to share it with someone. Especially with the man who needed to hear it the most. He could only hopeNeganwould appreciate it. And understand.

“When I was a child and a teenager, there weren’t many accommodations for people with disabilities. It was the fifties and sixties. Blind children, the deaf, people with other physical handicaps, they weren’t mainstreamed, often isolated socially from the normal children. They rarely went to college or had opportunities for lucrative careers. Not only were many handicaps misunderstood, but they were also equated with disability. Most of the children I rode on the little yellow school bus with, ended up getting disability payments from the government and living with their parents in adulthood because they had no training or skills to hold a job.

“My parents didn’t have the money to send me to one of the exclusive, private colleges which had the academic tools I would need in order to succeed in college. They did, however, have a great faith in their Lord, and the Catholic church. It was your Grandma Fran’s idea for me to go to seminary and become a priest. In her mind it was a way to ensure I would be productive, but also cared for until the day I died.

“The church can’t turn you away, she told me over and over. She obviously was an idealist,” he smirked at the memory of his mother’s words to him. “She also was what I like to call ‘ a pistol’. Now you know where you get it from.” The smile which emanated from him was warm and loving, and Negan found himself moving to the end of the couch closest to the bishop, so he was only a few feet away from him as he continued to speak. “Let’s just say the Catholic seminary wasn’t prepared for a blind student. We’ll also say my mother had a few words to say to the head of the school about how Un Christlike it would be for them to turn away a poor, blind teenager who simply wanted to devote his life to God.”

He laughed at the melodramatic picture, and then his expression sobered as he moved to the next part of his history. “I’ll tell you something I haven’t told anyone else, Negan.” He leaned forward in his chair as he confided seriously, “Like my parents, I’ve always found religion a comfort. Being a priest wasn’t my calling, though. But I knew my mother was right. It was the best option for me. Especially once she’d gently browbeaten the seminary into accommodating my handicap.”

Bishop Benson continued his story, talking about how he was fresh out of the seminary and preaching at Our Lady of Perpetual Faith when he met Negan’s mother. “She had the most beautiful laugh,” he shared, and Negan could hear the affection and wonder in the man’s voice when he described her. “She was full of life, and her laugh was like a song. She was a friend to me when the other parishioners weren’t quite sure what to make of their new, blind priest. I was still under the tutelage of Father Stevens, training to take over the parish when he would become the bishop and move to overseeing all of churches in northern and central Virginia.”

Negan noted how he skipped over the details of how he got involved with Betty, skipping right to when she shocked him with thenewsshe was pregnant with his child. “I loved your mother desperately. The idea of settling down with her and our baby sounded like heaven for a young man who had thought no one would want him other than the church. I was ready to leave the priesthood and marry her. I knew I loved her more than I would ever love the church.

“I was convinced we could find a way to get by … that love would conquer all and see us through,” he revealed wistfully, “but she convinced me leaving the church was the worst thing I could do. Unlike my mother, your mother was a realist. She reminded me how unlikely it was I would be able to find a job to support the three of us. I knew she was right. Men were normally the sole bread winners, and since I was blind, and my education had centered around my religion, well...”

He was quiet for a moment, taking a hefty swallow of his whiskey before he went on, “We disagreed about it. She made me promise to keep our secret and continue in the priesthood. I kept trying to convince her we would make it work, somehow. We were both beside ourselves, worried about the future she might face as aseventeen year oldwith a child, whether it was with or without me.”

A sip of Jameson and a troubled shake of his head were the pause the bishop needed to regroup and pull himself out of a turbulent part of his history. His mood was somber as he continued, “Not long after, she told me she met Jonah, and they were getting married. After dating him for a month she convinced him she was pregnant with his child. It broke my heart. Two months before their graduation, when she was starting to show, she dropped out ofschooland they were married. He planned to go to go to trade school after graduation, to become a plumber, which would ensure a solid financial future to care for you. She didn’t find out until later she had sold her soul and her child to the devil to make sure you both didn’t end up on the street. It wasn’t until several months after they were married that Jonah started to show his true colors by belittling her. By then she felt trapped. She resigned herself to what she thought had to be her fate.

“I know her parents both passed away before you were old enough to get to know them, but they were very devout. Even if I would have left the priesthood to support my new family, your grandparents never would have forgiven her or me for our transgression. They would have never offered her financial help or shelter, no matter how dire her situation might be. Betty couldn’t stand the thought of disappointing them, or losing them if they chose to disown her, which would have been a strong possibility.” He shook his head at the prospect, deep in his own thoughts.

Negan listened to his mother’s story with rapt attention. While he was sympathetic to the plight of the two young adults in the sixties, the romantic hidden somewhere deep in his f*cking heart was upset with them for not trying to make their way as a family. He had been angry with them both, for days. His sentiments were shifting though, as he learned the truth. He had been angrier with his mother for lying to him. He had been very angry with his biological father, until he had laid eyes on the man for the first time in decades and the familiar feeling of comfort and puss* ass f*ckingaffectionhe had always felt for the priest had washed over him.

There was one question which was eating at him. He didn’t know what he wanted to hear when he accused softly, “I get it that it may have seemed impossible for you and my mom to be together, but how could you let that bastard abuse your own son? I understand my mother made her choice, but I was the innocent in this whole, warped scenario, and I paid a huge price for the choices you and my mother made.”

Where the bishop’s eyes had stared blankly, wandering during his monologue, they suddenly snapped towards Negan, seemingly focusing on him while he processed his question. “Abuse you?” His tone changed to one of agitation as he repeated, “Jonah abused you?”, the emphasis shifting from the question of who Jonah had abused, to a question of what exactly Jonah had done to him and his mother.

“He didn’t just abuse my mother,” the coach revealed, curious as to why the bishop sounded surprised on both counts. He not only sounded surprised, but he looked downright distressed at the discovery. Negan watched him carefully as he continued, “What started out as frequent anger and berating evolved into physical force. Jonah got great pleasure pushing and shoving us around; showing us who was the boss. I don’t know if you remember thetimeI told you I had fallen riding my bike and hurt my shoulder and you called me a bird with a wounded wing?” When the bishop nodded, he admitted, “It was slammed into the door frame when he tried to shove me into my room in a fit of anger.”

It became clear, very quickly, just as Betty had taught Negan, she had minimized Jonah's behavior and hadn’t aired the worst of her dirty laundry about their turbulent home life. Not even to the man she had been in love with. The sound which came out of his father’s mouth was one of grief, a moan of despair which he made no attempt to stifle. The hand holding his whiskey dropped down onto the table beside him, tipping over and spilling its contents when it was misplaced on the edge of the coaster. Liquor soaked his hand, and the slippery glass fell from his grasp onto the rug below. Startled by the accident, and flustered by Negan’s admission, he bent at the waist, feeling around frantically on the floor for it.

“Here, let me,” Negan instinctively jumped to his aid, kneeling in front of the chair and reaching for the now empty glass. Placing it back on the coaster above, he reached into the pocket of his leather jacket to pull out the red scarf he used to protect his neck when he rode his Harley. Taking the bishop’s hand in his own, he blotted it with the material, soaking up the whiskey on his skin. As he worked, he felt Father B’s other hand skim the side of his head, and he held still while it made its way gently across his cheekbone and down to his jaw, where it proceeded to caress and then pat his jawline before resting there.

“I didn’t know, my child,” his father promised softly, calling Negan by the term of endearment he often used when he spoke with the youngest members of his parish. “My child,” he repeated, letting the literal and very appropriate meaning of the phrase settle into both of their psyches. “I didn’t know.”

Chapter 42: Elvis Has Left the Building

Chapter Text

Saturday morning

Bishop Benson had never been one to preach about fire and brimstone. Associating God with fear and guilt was not his style. Instead of a vengeful God, he had tried to paint a portrait of a loving and forgiving deity, hoping the congregation would emulate the ways of their creator. His teachings had always been uplifting and comforting, his sermons emphasizing the need for humility and grace. He had encouraged his parishioners, in a world where it had become the norm to tear others down in order to build oneself up, to remember the need for kindness, understanding and forgiveness.

“‘Give, and you will receive. Your gift will return to you in full - pressed down, shaken together to make room for more, running over, and poured into your lap. The amount you give will determine the amount you get back.’ Luke six, thirty-eight has told us so! Think about it, my friends! You have the capability of creating whatever world you want to live in, with your actions and words. What you put out into the world is what you will receive back from it. Do you want a world full of biting words and self-serving deeds? Or do you want a world where you are surrounded by kindness, and selflessness? Do you want to live in a cold world, where those you pass on the street avoid making eye contact or saying hello, or do you want a world full of warmth, where you receive a smile and a kind word from those whose paths you cross? Give and you shall receive, my friends. Your transgressions can be harshly judged or easily forgiven. If you put good vibes out into the world, you get good vibes in return. If kindness and empathy are your norm in dealing with people, they will be returned to you.”

The bishop had always tried to practice what he preached, not only so his own world would be gentle and kind, but also because one never knew when another’s grace, empathy, or forgiveness would be needed. Today would be the true test of whether he had imparted on his parishioners the values he felt were so important.

Putting on his tab collar and waistcoat, he went out to his front porch to wait for his son to pick him up to take him to his birthday luncheon. My son. The thought brought a smile to his face. He had thought of Negan daily, and had always been happy he had fathered his son, yet being able to finally acknowledge the connection out loud with him had made it more real.

He had smiled a lot in the last few days. More than he had in a long time. For the first time in fifty years, he had a feeling of true peace and contentment. All due to a visit from his son. Where his lack of connection with Negan was once a source of regret and unrest, the last two days with him had turned all his thoughts surrounding his boy into a source of pride and joy, his unease erased. My boy.

__________

Friday Morning

Gigi’s phone rang at two in the morning, and she roused herself out of a deep sleep, wondering who could be calling. Fumbling for her phone on her nightstand, she read Negan’s name on the caller ID on the screen and immediately tapped the screen to pick up the call. “Negan? Are you okay?” Were the first words out of her mouth.

She had been in the shower when he had called her that morning, so he had left her a message telling her he was headed out of town to try to sort out his past. “I need answers about some of the garbage that was dumped in my lap, Gigi, so I’m heading to Oklahoma City to get them. I’ll call you as soon as I have a chance.” She hadn’t expected his follow up call to come in the middle of the night, and the timing stirred up some worry for her.

“I’m fine, tiny dancer,” he immediately reassured her, suddenly aware of the hour. When he had checked into his hotel room a few minutes before, he wasted no time settling in for the night so he could call her. Because he needed her. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking, when I dialed you, that’s it’s the middle of the night. It’s the second night I’ve done this to you. I just ...” His voice trailed off for a moment while he figured out what the f*ck he was trying to say. Just tell her. “I just needed my girl. But I didn’t think about the fact you’re recuperating...”

“No,Negan, it’s fine,” his girl assured him, touched by the fact he was turning to her for help of some sort. “And I’m fine. You can always call me. Any time. I’m here whenever you need me.”

My good f*cking girl. “I need you big time,after the evening I just had.”

“Does this have to do with why you left town?” she prompted him, rolling onto her back to get comfortable.

“It does,” he confirmed. “After I left you lastnightI realized I needed to sort out some things I found out about my past ... things I think have influenced the lousy choices I’ve made. Remember how I told you a garbage truck backed up and unloaded on me?”

“Yep. And the garbage had to do with your past?”

“Exactly. I feel like I’m trying to piece together a puzzle, Gigi, and until I put all the pieces in place, I’ll be stuck … f*ck ," he apologized. “I know I’m not making any f*cking sense.”

“You make all the sense in the world, Negan. Do you think if you talk it out, I can help you put the pieces together?” she offered. “If you’re comfortable talking about it, that is.” Knowing he wasn’t one for sharing his feelings, she was sure he would resist the idea, but she still made the offer so he would know she was there to support him in any way she could.

“Igottatellya, that was exactly what I was hoping you’d say.”

________

Thursday Night

Once his hand was dry of the whiskey he had spilled, the fingers of both of Bishop Benson’s hands moved to touch Negan’s cheeks. “May I?” he asked permission to look at his son with his sense of touch. A slight, hesitant nod prompted the pads of his fingertips on either side of his boy’s face to wander in sync, up to his brow and across his forehead, one index finger finding and tracing the furrow between his brows. “Just like mine,” he smiled as his fingers wandered down to Negan’s nose, taking in the small bump on the bridge. “This, too.” Across his cheeks and down to his bearded chin, then around the corners of his mouth to feel his moustache. “Does your wife like all of this fur on your face?” he questioned with a smirk as his fingers continued in their journey, grazing across his lips. He kept his own face clean shaven since it would be impossible for him to keep facial hair properly trimmed.

The intimate exploration was disconcerting, yet also welcome, the touch gentle, and Father’s close proximity comforting. He had wondered what the man’s reaction would be to a surprise visit and confrontation about their connection. It was clear his affection for the boy he had known years ago had not waned and his friendliness and his teasing were reassuring. “My girlfriend,” Negan corrected him. “My wife died this past summer. My girlfriend seems to like it. But then again, I never asked her,” he added thoughtfully.

The hands had stopped momentarily at the news of Lucille’s death, then moved to Negan’s ears, tracing the shell and then rubbing the earlobes between his thumbs and forefingers. One hand left Negan’s ear and traveled to one of the bishop’s own, where he ran his fingers over it before deciding, “You have my long ears, too, son. You are all me, boy,” he announced, sounding proud of the fact. “Except for your hairline and your mouth. They are your mother’s.” Two fingertips slid back across his cheek to gently tap a full bottom lip.

Patting Negan’s cheek to signal he was finished, he sat back in his seat, bypassing Negan’s question about leaving him in the hands of an abuser and following up on the sad news which had been shared. “Lucille died? I’m so sorry to hear that. How did it happen?”

“How do you know her name?” Negan continued to kneel on one knee in front of the chair, not ready to distance himself.

“Your mother told me about your marriage. She adoredLucille,you know. She sang her praises every chance she got.”

Surprised to hear thepairhadtalkedafterhis motherwas married to Jonah,it tookNegana moment to respond. “Shedied of pancreatic cancer.”

“Ugly disease, cancer. I wouldn’t wish it on the devil,” the priest confessed. “I hope she didn’t suffer too much?”

“Luckily, not much. Fatigue from the chemo and some pain. She only had pain at the end, thank God,” he qualified his statement.

“Thank God is right.” After a pause, the elder answered Negan’s unasked question about when Betty had filled him in about his son’s marriage. “Once I moved here in the late seventies, your mother and I kept in touch by phone so she could keep me abreast of what was going on in your life. I was so grateful she did. I wasn’t happy to move so far away from you. The choice to move away was a hard one to make, but it was made clear to me that it was my only option with the church. Shortly after I came to Oklahoma City, your grandparents retired and followed me. At least I had them close by while I wallowed in my upset over leaving you and your mother. But they both died in the nineties, so I’ve been alone in their house ever since. I stayed here instead of living at the rectory to try to keep a connection to them.

“I didn’t want to leave Alexandria, and yet at the same time it made things easier,” he lamented ruefully. “Your mom and I continued to struggle with our feelings for each other after she was married. We talked frequently, whether it was while she was counting the offerings on Sunday afternoon or when she called me after Jonah went to bed at night. The calls would all be under the guise of keeping me informed about you, while we skirted around speaking of our love for one another. That way she could be faithful in her marriage, and I could remain faithful to the church.”

Negan let the man ramble, fascinated by his story. He seemed happy to share, and Negan was certain it was a tale the man had not told before. His facial expressions showed a range of emotions as he spoke, from sadness to happiness, confusion to determination, depending on what part of his autobiography was being divulged.

“I was always happy to hear the goings on in your life, though I was sad I wasn’t experiencing them firsthand,” he admitted. “Your mother told me about your troubles all through your public-school years. You know, neither of us could understand why our smart boy was struggling so much with his academics. It made all the sense in the world when your professor in college suggested you had dyslexia. We were so grateful someone had finally taken the time to look past your sassy attitude and figure out why you weren’t living up to your potential. Your mom told me your professor was the reason why you decided to become a teacher?”

“Yes, sir. She was. I wanted to help other kids with bad attitudes and athletic prowess,”Neganjoked, causing the bishop to chuckle.

“You should be proud of your accomplishments, son,” his father insisted earnestly. “I don’t mean to sound patronizing, but I am so proud of the man you’ve become. Working hard to overcome your disability, getting your master’s degree, coaching one of the top high-school football teams in Virginia. Marrying such a lovely young woman who, your mother said, kept you in line,” the priest teased.

He sounded so genuine, Negan couldn’t help but be touched. He was eating up the sentiments which felt so undeserved, yet long overdue in his life. Laughing at the truth of Lucille refusing to put up with his sh*t, Negan laughed, acknowledging, “That she did.” In some ways.

“Your mother and I talked until she passed away,” his father continued his story after a pause, “though not as frequently as when you were younger. Two years ago, whenI didn’t hear from her for a few months, I started to worry about her. I made an excuse for my protégé Finn to search for her online,to see if there might be news of her passing,under the guise of needing to find another parishioner from my days at Perpetual Faith. ‘ Betty will know where he is ,’ I’d told him. ‘ She always knew everyone’s comings and goings.’ I almost foiled my own lie when Finn questioned me as to why I didn’t just have him look up the man directly.” The priestchuckled at the memory of his slip up.“I told him I had always had a soft spot for her saucy son, so a phone call to her would not only help me find Charles but would be a way to update myself on how her boy was doing.” The priest’s eyes wandered inNegan’sdirection, and he smiledmomentarilybefore his expression sobered. “Finn found your mother’s obituary posted online.”

It was clear he was still upset over Betty’s death, andNeganremained quiet while his father collected himself, still mulling over the pride he had heard in the man’s voice as he’d sung his son’s praises. He f*cking loved it.

“I know I haven’t answered your question, son, about how I could leave you in the hands of an abuser,” the bishop finally admitted. “I wasn’t ignoring it. I just needed some time to process what you revealed to me. Would you mind pouring me another?” He reached for the glass on the coaster next to his elbow and picked it up, holding it out in front of him in expectation his request would be fulfilled.

Negan smirked, remembering, “You always did like to order me around, didn’t you, when I would spend the day with mom while she volunteered at the church. Negan, bring me my cassette player and tape three so I can listen to my Bible. Negan, why don’t you bring us one of those grape popsicles in the kitchen’s freezer?” Laughing out loud at the next memory, he went on, “ Negan, please bring me my reading glasses from the desk in my office .” The priest laughed with him when he continued, “I was halfway down the hall before I realized you were pranking me!” His memories of his time with Father Benson were fond ones and he smiled at how they had fallen back into the same familiarity they’d had all those years ago.

“I chuckled to myself from the second you walked away from me! I heard you huff all the way down the hall before you turned around and came back to give me grief about tricking you!” the priest shared.

Walking to the sideboard,Neganleft the sticky glass sitting on the tray on its surface and grabbed a new one, pouring a hefty double before he returned and put it on the coaster next to Father Benson.

Father. My father. My dad.Dad.Holy f*ck. Well, sorry padre, but holy f*ck! The enormity of their situation finally sunk in, and he rubbed the scruff on his jaw as he sat on the end of the couch again and took a swig of his own whiskey.

“Your mother told me, a few months after she and Jonah were married, that he had begun to lose patience with her regularly and was belittling her at the drop of a hat.” Diving right into his story, he disclosed, “I was distressed to hear it, to say the least. I would question her about how things were going at home, but once she realized Jonah’s behavior upset me, she shut down on me, avoiding the subject, and assuring me everything was fine, that he was just irritable at times from long hours at work.

“I heard from other parishioners that Jonah had taken to drinking with his single school friends, driving home drunk at all hours of the night. Once you werebornhe rarely spent time at home. You must believe me when I tell you I never heard any evidence that he was physically abusing her or you,Negan. It’s obvious now that I didn’t understand the level of verbal abuse that went on. I could feel your mother becoming more withdrawn, but she swore to me it was from the stress of trying to handle an infant without her husband’s support.

“Once you were school age, I wondered if things were difficult for you at home … if your stepfather was hard on you. You were a ball of pent-up fury, and your confessions hinted at Jonah being less than a loving father figure for you. You told me he was angry with youalot, and it saddened me when you eventually told me you thought he didn’t like you. Your mother denied there was a problem, and you were just like her. If I tried to ask you for more details about what was going on at home, you would shut down on me and change the subject.” Frustration and upset were clear in the priest’s tone when he admitted, “I always wondered if I should have done more for the both of you. Before I was transferred here by the church, I confronted Betty one last time about the matter. I told her I still loved her, and I very much still wanted to live as a family with the two of you.

Neganwas shocked to hear about the drama which had played out between his mother and biological father for the first decade of his life, and he felta little f*ckingbitter about the fact his mother hadn’t been honest with the man.

“She insisted I come to Oklahoma City. That the church neededmeand you had a family with her and Jonah. Divorce wasn’t an option in the seventies for a good Catholic girl. She broke my heart for the second time with her refusal leave Jonah so we could make a life together.”

Moving forward in his chair, he sat on the front edge of the seat, reaching out until he found Negan’s knee where he sat on the sofa. Patting it, and then squeezing it, he declared, “I would have given the church up for you and your mother, Negan. I need you to know that. In a heartbeat. And I don’t want you to think I’m telling you this to blame your less than stellar home life on your mother. I simply need you to know I loved you both desperately, and I truly did want to take responsibility for you and raise you in a loving home.” He hesitated for a moment before he revealed, “There isn’t a day that has gone by in your lifetime that I haven’t thought about you and prayed for you ... and loved you. I know that must seem trite, considering the hell you were going through. It sickens me to think I wasn’t there for you. Truly.” Tears shimmered in his father’s eyes, and his hand patted Negan’s knee again and then squeezed it firmly before he removed it and sat back in his chair.

Negan's throat and chest felt tight with emotion, words escaping him despite the feeling he needed to reassure the man. He wanted to be angry with his mother for not leaving Jonah to be with his father. He wanted to be angry with his father for not demanding they raise their child together. In the end, however, none of their backstory mattered to him other than two critical pieces of information. His father was proud ofhimand his father loved him.

I’m such a f*cking puss*. Damn it.

____________

Late Friday Night

“Oh,Negan! That’s such a heartbreaking story,” Gigi supported him with her simple, heartfeltstatement, knowing it was what would be most comfortable for him.“All of it.From the circ*mstances keeping your parents apart, to the little boy who got caught in a nightmare he couldn’t escape.”

Gigi had been shocked when Negan shared his childhood with her. The night before he had confided what happened when his stepfather visited him at the beginning of the week. Surprised, she was devastated for him when he eventually backtracked and filled her in on his history, telling her the details of his family life. He verbalized everything leading up to his discussion with his biological father. As the history went on, he would fit the new pieces of information he’d learned from the priest between the events of his childhood and teen years.

“Before I gotthereI expected to be mad at him, but I had forgotten how much I always loved being around him. He melted my f*cking heart. I felt like I was ten years old again, hanging out at the church with the father figure I’d always idolized.”

“Father Benson was the father figure you never had at home.Unlike your stepfather, yourreal father wasfunand caring and took great interest in everything about your life …"

“While my stepfather made it very clear I was nothing but a nuisance to him and the rest of the world,” he expanded. “Loser was his favorite term of endearment for me,” he lamented angrily.

Gigi couldn’t hide her gaspof shockat the admission. “What kind of vile man could talk to a child that way?”

Smiling at his prissy girl’s idea of name calling, he felt a surge of affection for the woman on the other end of the line, appreciating her defensiveness on his behalf. “You know, I wonder when Jonah found out, or figured out, I wasn’t his son. In thinking back about it, he was never a great father, but I do remember times when I was young when he was nicer to me. I’m thinking he found out sometime right before I started elementary school. That’s when his put downs began.” Negan talked through his past, and his acknowledgment of the profoundly negative impact his stepfather’s words and actions had had on him.

“It was strange, Gigi, but when he told me he wasn’t my biological father, I was relieved. After fifty-five years of him being the only father figure I’d ever known, I wasn’t the least f*cking bit sad.”

“No wonder! Think about it Negan,” his dancer encouraged him to take the simple sentiment a step further. “For your whole life you had a parent you innately trusted, constantly criticizing everything about you. As a child, how could you not wonder what you were doing wrong? You would never question whether his words were the truth. A child wouldn’t know any better. Your parents create the only reality you know and teach you their moral values and their ideas of right and wrong. If your parent tells you something is bad, you believe them.

“So of course, you took Jonah’s words to heart. Aneight year olddoesn’t question truths. They only know whether the concepts and experiences they are introduced to feel good or bad. You knew it felt bad when your father belittled you.

“As a teenager, you had learned enough to question the validity of your father’s words, but by then the damage was done. You knew he was a jerk, and that his words and actions were wrong, but youcouldn‘t shake the years of disparagement that had been drilled into your brain over and over.

“When Jonah told you he wasn’t your father, every bad thing he had ever said to you came into question, Negan. His truths weren’t your truths anymore. His opinion, which was so important to the little boy who wanted his dad’s approval, was suddenly irrelevant because he’s not your dad! He’s just a drunken jerk. The worst kind of human being. One who would hurt a woman and child emotionally and physically.” The picture of the man physically hurting her Negan when hewaslittle made her both physically ill and very angry.

My smart f*cking girl. “Jesus, Gigi,” he responded to her theory, “You are spot on.” He was silent for a moment, letting her words sink in. He had wondered why he had felt so light since Jonah had given him the news of his parentage. His girl had figured out why, in a heartbeat.

“I would think,” his girl continued softly, “that even though the rational side of you understands the sense of what I’m telling you, it will take quite some time to undo the damage he’s done.” Gigi waited, knowing he had a lot to process. After a few moments of silence she offered, “I feel like your fight with Jonah and your visit to your biological father have given you some of the missing pieces of the puzzle you mentioned, but I think it’s going to take some time and some work to actually make them fit together, so you can see how your past has impacted your present.”

“I think you’re spot on there, too, Gigi.”

The pair talked for two hours, and his girl had helped him make sense of the mess which had been dropped in his lap, and his backstory. She listened, asking him insightful questions which made him think about things in a way he hadn’t before and brought things to light which he needed to consider. Even though he had felt much better in many ways after his time with his biological father, his findings had also produced a sense of agitation. A half an hour into his call with his dancer, he felt like a new man. She had focused his chaotic thoughts and helped calm the unrest he had been feeling.

_________

The bishop was waiting on his front porch at eleven fifteen on Saturday morning when his chauffer pulled up at the curb in front of his home. Before Negan opened the car door to walk up to greet him, the priest rose from his chair and made his way down the steps to the walkway which would lead him to the curb. He could hear a car door finally open as he moved, and the sound of heavy shoes on the pavement of the road before the feet stepped up onto the grass strip between the sidewalk and the curb.

Neganwatched his father move with ease and familiarity, so he decided not to rush up to help him to the car. Forseventy-fiveyears old, the man was spry, sure in his steps and of his surroundings. Unable to resist giving him a hint as to where he stood by the car, he greeted him, “Good morning, Father,” just as his mother had taught him to do when he was a little boy.

Just as the priest had done decades before, he returned, “Good morning, my son.” The words had come out of their mouths out of habit, yet when his father returned his greeting, they both paused for a moment to reflect on the fact, even though they had been using common pleasantries all those years ago, they had been speaking their truth. Back in the day, no one had been wise to the fact, except for Betty and the priest.

“Well, that little hello was quite a kick in the pants, wasn’t it?” his father quipped, obviously thinking along the same lines as Negan.

“A big one.”

Holding one hand out, his father suggested, “Help me find the car door?”

“Here,” Negan responded, pissed with himself for not having automatically done so. He opened the door, reaching out to guide the man’s hand to it. Waiting until the priest was situated inside, he closed the door and rounded the car to get in the driver’s side.

“Here’s the plan for this luncheon,” the priest advised him conspiratorially. “We’ll be offered first pick at the buffet because you’ll be sitting with me. Guest of honor gets first dibs on the goods.” He chuckled to himself over his good fortune before he shared his plan. “I’ll have someone guide me to Ed Murphy’s pulled pork and coleslaw, and you’ll head straight to the dessert table and grab us two pieces of Mrs. Ingall’s pumpkin cheesecake.”

“It’s that good, huh?” Negan returned, amused by the man’s seriousness in divulging his plan.

“You’d give up your ballerina for a piece of this stuff, I’m telling you,” thepriest shared, with a nod of his head for emphasis.

“I don’t know about that, Padre. I mean, I do enjoy a good piece of cheesecake, but you remember why you cheated on Jesus with my mom. If it came down to it, which would you pick? Sex or cheesecake? Be honest with me here.”

Cackling,the man retorted,“Boy, if we keep talking like this, I’ll have to go to confession tomorrow. And it won’t be about overindulging in Mrs.Ingall’ssinful cheesecake, it will be about my impure thoughts.”

Both men laughed at the idea, the priest reaching out to feel for and then pat his son’s arm. They settled into a comfortable silence for several minutes asNegandrove, following the directions dictated by the GPS app on his phone.

“Did you talk to your Gigi last night?” Negan’s father finally asked.

The pair had gotten together for lunch the day before and had ended up talking until late in the evening, catching up with each other about this and that as they sat on the bishop’s front porch with their glasses of whiskey. Comparing notes about where they had been in life and where they wanted to be. “Soyou have a new woman in your life?” the priest had prompted after Negan had filled him in on his life with Lucille.

“I do. She’s a pistol. Like your mother. She definitely keeps me on my toes.”

“Do you love her?” the priest had queried bluntly.

Negan chuckled softly before he’d responded, “I do.”

“Was that a ‘What have I gotten myself into’ laugh, or a ‘I don’t know how she snuck up on me’ laugh?”

“A little of both.”

“Tell me about her.”

Negan had filled him in, rewinding to his and Gigi’s tumultuous start, his father interjecting, “She’s got fire! I like her already!” when he heard how she gave his son a piece of her mind when he knocked on her door to complain about the overflow of cars from her husband’s wake. The coach found himself walking through all the positives about his relationship with his girl. In the end he was surprised he had shared so much information, since it wasn’t his norm.

________

“We have this connection. I can’t even explain it. She knows when I’m in her vicinity, even before she lays eyes on me, and I tune into her emotions likes she’s a damn transmitter … sorry, Father.”

“Meh. I’ve heard worse,” the priest had negated the worry with a wave of his hand. “It sounds like the fact that you have this connection with her is a surprise toyou?Something you haven’t experienced before?”

Thinking back on the many women he had dated, and his marriage to Lucille, he’d answered, “It is.”

“That connection is something most people dream about, but never achieve with a partner. It’s not something you cancreate,son. It just happens between two people.”

“Sounds like you know of what you speak.”

“I do.”

________

“It’s a shame you can’t see her dance. It’s … I can’t even put it into words. She makes you feel what she’s feeling.” What the f*ck is wrong with me talking about how she dances. I’m f*cked in the head over her, that’s what’s wrong with me. I got one whiff of her magic puss* and I caved. puss*. Whipped. Capital P. Capital W.

________

“She's one of the reasons why I’m here, besides the fact I needed to hear my real history. The pistol called me on my less than stellar past and told me I needed to do better if I want a future with her.

“You have a less than stellar past?” The priest had replied, feigning shock.

“Don’t even pretend to be surprised, Father.”

“At least I tried,” his father shot back. “Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, I suppose.”

Negan had laughed heartily at the comparison.

“Knowing you’re a bit of a pistol yourself,” the bishop picked up the conversation again, “I’m surprised you didn’t balk at her challenge.”

“I’m just as surprised as you are. I don’t know why I didn’t.”

“It’s called love. It makes you do crazy things, son.”

_________

“It sounds like she helped you sort through our discussions,” Father B observed whenNeganmentioned his middle of the night phone calls to Gigi.

“She really did,” the coach validated, reaching up to adjust his rear-view mirror. “She wants to meet you.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Before he thought about whether his father even wanted to have any sort of contact with him once his current visit was over. He hadn’t thought about the fact his devotion to the church likely wouldn’t allow for him to have a relationship with his son. The man may have kept abreast of Negan’s life over the years, but that didn’t necessarily mean he could make room for more than updates.

The silence which followed ate atNegan’sgut, until his father reached out and patted the side of his leg, intimating, “I’d really like that, son.”

________

“You two must be related,” Ed Murphy insisted when Father Benson introduced Negan to him and his wife when they arrived at the party. “Is this a nephew of yours, Father?”

“The family resemblance is uncanny!” his wife marveled.

Negan groaned internally. Fuuuuuck.

He was impressed when his father grazed over their comments with a smile, diverting the conversation. “It is uncanny, isn’t it? Are Cardinal Andrews andArchbishopBennett here yet?”

“They are!” Ed exclaimed, excited to have such lofty presences at the bishop’s birthday party. “Do you want me to let them know you’re looking for them?”

“Why don’t you lead me to them, Ed,” he ordered jovially. “Ellen, would you please make sure Negan’s seat is right next to mine at my table when it’s time to eat?” Turning in the direction of the coach, he explained, “Ellen is going to introduce you to Jack and Andi Wagner, who should be here somewhere as well. I need to talk to my superiors for a few moments before things get started here.”

“Sure thing.” Negan hadn’t thought about the possibility people might question the connection between him and the older man. His mind worked in overdrive trying to come up with a good response should someone ask him how he knew the priest. He was sorry they hadn’t discussed how they would respond if they were questioned.

“Jack … Andi! Father B sent me over so I could introduce you to someone!” Ellen called out when they were halfway across the large multipurpose room which had been decorated festively. There were eight-foot round tables nicely set with cloths and flowers spread out over the lacquered hardwood floor. The markings of a basketball court were painted beneath the shining finish. The backboards and nets had been raised up towards the ceiling so the party would have less of a feeling of being held in a gymnasium. There were streamers and balloons abounding, despite the fact the guest of honor wouldn’t be able to appreciate them.

“You must be Negan!” A middle-aged man and woman rushed toward him, excitedly, the man giving him a firm handshake.

“My reputation precedes me?” Negan inquired with raised eyebrows.

“Father B called this morning to see if we were going to be attending the party. He said you might get bored while the other party guests fawned all overhim, andhe asked us to keep you company.” He repeated the priest’s request, laughing.

“That sounds like him,”Neganchuckled at the priest’s sense of humor.

“Boy, you can tell you two are family!” the man exclaimed, echoing the comments the coach had heard only moments before. “When Father B said he was bringing a guest, he didn’t mention it was a family member!”

Ahh, f*ck. Here we go.

“I don’t remember Father B mentioning he had siblings, or nieces and nephews. How are you two related?” Andi questioned.

“Well, the padre and I thought it would be fun to leave people guessing,” Negan teased the woman slyly, immediately moving the conversation in another direction. “So why are you two the chosen ones to keep me entertained while father is occupied by his fans?” Getting a kick out of himself for referring to the man in an ambiguous way which would go unnoticed by the pair, he smiled, looking nothing but pleased to talk with the couple in front of him.

“We all coach high school sports!” Andi responded, excited at the prospect of talking school and sports with someone new.

It turned out the couple coached football and girls' basketball at their school, so the threesome launched into a conversation which lasted the entire length of Father Benson’s talk with cardinal and archbishop. Spying the men when they walked back through the doors, Negan noted how the cardinal stopped to say a few last words to Father B, his countenance solemn. Before they parted, he clasped his hand over the priest’s shoulder and squeezed it in a show of affection.

Once he and his seniors parted ways, and someone approached to guide him, Father B was immediately surrounded by well-wishers. He greeted them all, speaking with them animatedly before having someone lead him back to Negan.

“My fans are calling,” he teased. “I have to make my rounds.”

With guidance, the priest circled back to check in on him every 10 minutes or so, and several times he dragged Negan across the room to meet this person or that couple. “I want to introduce you to some of my favorite people,” he murmured at one point. “Don’t let on;of course,they are all my favorites, it’s just that some are bigger favorites than others.” He motioned around the room as if visually pointing out the two hundred plus people, and then crossed himself in mock penitence for not adoring them all, making his son chuckle.

When Father had invited Negan to his birthday luncheon, the coach had cringed a little f*cking bit at the idea of making small talk with a bunch of holy rollers. He hadn’t been able to refuse, though, when the priest had told him he’d really like him to be there so he could meet some of the people in his life. Surprisingly, Negan wasactually enjoyinghimself. Everyone felt the need to fill him in on their relationship with Bishop Benson, and how he had been a gift, a friend or a mentor to them. He enjoyed the stories and couldn’t help but be a little f*cking proud his father had made such a difference in people’s lives, even if it had been at his son’sexpense.

For the next hour they made their way around the room, and the priest had been absolutely f*cking right in joking with the Wagners about being fawned over. As he talked with folks, he received hugs, handshakes, and pats on the back. He also had his cheek patted by a dozen different blue hairs. Negan guesstimated there were more than two hundred people in attendance, and they all seemed to be waiting for their turn to speak with the guest of honor.

At precisely one o’clock, Ellen found Negan and Father B in the crowd and lead them to the head table, where they were seated with Cardinal Andrews, Archbishop Bennett and Holy Trinity’s young priest, Finn O’Rourke. When their table was approached by one of the women of the parish, letting them know they could make their way to the buffet tables, Father B turned to Negan, reminding him seriously, “Remember to start at the far end. I have it on good authority the pumpkin cheesecake is in the center of the far-right table, on a glass pedestal!”

“Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s cheesecake, Father,” the cardinal admonished him in jest, adding “I can’t believe you have hoodwinked Negan into partaking in your sugar filled debauchery.”

The bishop simply laughed, “A man has to have some fun on his birthday, Cardinal! I’m not allowed to have any serious vices, as you well know, so my addiction to sugar will do nicely in place of women and gambling.” Joining the men in their laughter, he added, “Besides, you can’t tell me you won’t be trying to beat me to the pulled pork.”

“He’s got you there, Cardinal,” the archbishop concurred as they all stood up to make their way towards the buffet. He reached out to encircle the bishop’s arm with his fingers, so he could lead him to the buffet tables, chatting with him on the way.

Negan walked away with a smile, surprised he was enjoying the G-rated banter between the men. He had expected sitting at the head table to be a bit boring, so he was once again pleasantly surprised.

_________

After a heaping plateful of amazing food, a piece of the best f*cking pumpkin cheesecake Negan had ever eaten, and a slice of Don Beecham’saward-winningpecan pie, the Cardinal and the Archbishop were handed microphones, and they gave speeches, in turn, singing the bishop’s praises. A personal sized birthday cake was brought to the head table, and the two hundred or more attendees broke into a loud chorus of Happy BirthdayToYou, during which the birthday boy co*cked his ear to toward the crowd, listening to the deafening, slightly off-key ballad.

It was then Bishop Benson’s turn to speak, and he held the microphone casually in the middle of his chest, waiting for the applause over his introduction to stop. When it finally quieted, he started his speech by giving a short history of his time with the church, and he thanked a dozen or so individuals whose dedication had made his work and his life easier, from the women who volunteered to help clean his home once a week,to the cardinal and archbishop who had supported him in his work, and with their friendship, for many decades.

After speaking of his gratitude, he launched into some self-reflection, making it clear he felt unworthy of the accolades and praise he received for the job he loved. “I’ve been told I am righteous and virtuous, titled a holy man, simply because I dedicated my life to God and the church, and to the welfare of its congregation. I have spent the last fifty-five years of my life aspiring to live up to the lofty titles I have been given. Yet, in the end, I am no different than anyone else in this room. I am just a man. A man of great faith. There is nothing lofty or holy about my life or my dedication to the church. I rise every morning and put my shoes on the same way you do. I simply spend my days trying to spread God’s word and ideals, and I go to bed at night praying that I’ve done a job worthy of the titles which feel so unwarranted.”

Murmurings of displeasure over the beloved bishop’s sentiments filled the air. It was clear the attendees felt his self-deprecation, while genuine and heartfelt, was far from accurate. It was just another example of why the humble man standing before them was held in such high regard. He had no idea the impact he had on others and what an important presence he had been in so many of their lives. Negan listened to the murmurs and watched the frowns and the shaking heads. He took it all in, feeling the love and admiration the parishioners displayed towards the bishop.

co*cking his head, and listening to the quiet uproar in the room, Bishop Benson held up his hand to quiet everyone so he could continue. “Until a few years ago, on every birthday, I would always reflect on how much time had flown by. I would think about how many years had passed, what I had I had tried to accomplish in the previous year, and whether I had succeeded. Now that I’m in my golden years …” he groaned comically to show his discontent with both his age and the phrase, causing everyone to chuckle. “... I find myself thinking about how much time I have left, and what I want to accomplish during that limited time.”

He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. Negan watched him curiously, wondering if he had forgotten the next part of his speech. When he spied Cardinal Andrews reaching out to squeeze his father’s hand, he found his curiosity heightened.

Letting out the breath and raising his unseeing eyes over the crowd, the bishop recited the verse, “Galatians six, one encourages us, Brothers, if anyone is caught in any transgression, you who are spiritual should restore him in a spirit of gentleness. We are all sinners, my friends. We have sinned, and we have been forgiven by God. I can only hope you agree with Galatians six, one, when I ask you to be gentle and kind in response to what I am about to share. While it would have been easy to let you hear this news from Father Finn, or Cardinal Andrews, I wanted you to hear it from me. I refuse to hide from adversity, because all my wonderful friends in this room deserve my honesty.

“When I think about what I want for my future, both sadness and joy fill my heart. I am filled with sadness because I will be ending one chapter of my life, so that I may continue another ... a chapter which I started writing when I was a young man, living in Alexandria, Virginia. It was a chapter which remained unfinished, so I could continue my beloved work with the church. It was a chapter I had thought would never be finished, due to circ*mstances both within and beyond my control. I have realized in the last few days, however, I need to continue writing the chapter I started so long ago.

“The current chapter of my life - the one you are all familiar with and have filled the pages of - has been completed. My heart is telling me to wrap it up and move on. I have decided to follow my heart, even as it drowns in sadness over the thought of this part of my life coming to an end.”

The priest’s message was foreboding, a hint at something dramatic which was about to be revealed. Again, there was disquiet among the crowd. Whispers and murmurings could be heard around the room. Negan, along with everyone else, was trying to make sense of the priest’s message. Reaching a hand in his son’s direction, his father found his back, and then his shoulder. He patted it affectionately, then held onto his son when he continued to speak.

“In thinking about how I want to spend my remaining years,” his father continued, “my path has becomevery clearto me. It is with great sadness I am announcing I will be stepping down from the church, yet it is with great pride and joy I will tell you I am doing so in order to spend time with my son, Negan.” The room became deadly quiet for several seconds, giving Michael Benson the chance to softly appeal, “I cannot convey how much I will miss you all. I hope that you will look upon our time together with fondness, and I hope that when you will think of me it will be with a ‘spirit of gentleness’.”

Laying his microphone on the table, Negan’s father leaned down to quietly prompt him, “Shall we go?”

Holy f*ck. “Uhh, sure thing, padre.”

The quiet which had descended over the room quickly turned to frenetic chatter which continued to rise in volume. The former priest listened for sounds of anger, but he could only discern curiosity and sadness. He had taught his people well.

“We will discuss this in more detail the next few days, Finn,” he reassured his protégé, patting his cheek, knowing the quick explanation he had given the priest that morning needed to be expanded. “I appreciate you offering to stay behind to do damage control,” he thanked his longtime friends.

“Of course,” the archbishop reassured him. “I’ll call you tomorrow. It probably best if you get moving while they’re still picking their jaws up off the ground, if you don't want to be bombarded with questions.” The former bishop concurred, knowing his parishioners needed time to process his news.

When Negan put a hand on his arm to guide him towards the door, his father reached tosurroundhis son’s fingers with his own, and they walked hand in hand out the exit door. It was the most precious f*cking thing he had ever experienced.

_________

"Forgive my language, but what the hell just happened in there?” Negan found himself both shocked and pleased over his father’s announcement, questioning him the minute the rental car started moving.

His father turned to him as they pulled out of the church parking lot. “I’ve done a lot of thinking since you've arrived, son, and I realized that even if you decide you don’t want to have any sort of relationship with your old man after you leave town, I’m tired of hiding you from the world. I’m tired of living the life of a hypocrite. And it’s not that I am worried someone will find out my secret, or that I regret what happened years ago with your mother. I’ve been a hypocrite because I don’t regret it. I don’t regret that I fathered a child. That fact has been nothing but a source of joy for me. My regrets all center around not raising you with your mother, and all the years of your life I’ve lost.

I have talked it out in my mind, hundreds of times, and I just can't label my relationship with your mother as a sin. I can’t make myself feel bad about it. Yes, I broke the rules the Catholic Church set forth for its clergy, but when I confessed my ‘sin’ to Cardinal Andrews decades ago, I told him outright I wasn’t sorry for what I had done. I was only sorry my actions had broken the rules I had promised to adhere to.”

Silence filled the car’s interior, the racing thoughts of both men palpable. “Was that too much to throw at you? I was a little impetuous, dropping my little atomic bomb on you and the congregation out of the blue.”

Negan felt nothing but relief over what his father was revealing. If asked, he would have a hard time communicating the sense of serious f*cking pride he felt, knowing his father had just given up the only life he had known for the last fifty years, for him. It wasn’t something he would have thought to wish for, but he was grateful it was the path his father had chosen.

“No, Pops. Not at all.” His choice of words was deliberate. The man would no longer technically be Bishop Benson, or Father B, and it didn’t feel right calling the man Michael, or Mister Benson. He felt it was the right title for this man who had upended his world so he could claim his son publicly. And hekindaf*cking dug the term of endearment.

His father was quiet for a moment. When he finallyspokethe emotion was clear in his voice. “Pops,” he repeated. “I like it, son.”

It was Negan’s turn to reach out and squeeze his father’s knee.

________

“Just like that?” Gigi questioned Negan later that evening. It was the third night in a row he had called his dancer to talk about his visits with his father. “He said goodbye and walked out the door?”

“He did,” Negan was still shocked about what had transpired at the party. “And you know what he said to me when we walked outside into the quiet after the uproar over his speech?”

“What?”

“He f*cking turned to me and deadpanned,Elvis has left the building!”

Chapter 43: I Knew Who You Were the Moment I Laid Eyes on You