“Nope. Nope—nah, I take it back. We ain’t fuckin’.” A laugh breaks out of me, panicked. “I change my mind. Jesus—put Negan’s fuckin’ bat away, okay? You’re not swingin’ that thing at me raw. Get the fuck outta here.”
A laugh rips out of him.
A stunned, fucked laugh.
He rubs his face, eyes blown and dazed.
Still at the edge of the bed,
elbows to his knees, he watches me pace,
one hand in his hair,
the other gripping his cock.
“Sonny. Baby. You gotta stop pacing.
“Just stop for a sec. Look at me.”
But I can't stop pacing.
He drags a hand down his face.
“I know you’re scared. But so am I, alright?”
His eyes are both wildly alive and dying for it.
“I’ve never done it like this.
“Always from behind—clothes still on.
“Never let anyone touch my dick ‘cept you.
“No one’s even seen it ‘cept you.
“Not in ten years.
“Always fuckin’ standing.
“Always two seconds from takin’ off.
“But this? You? I’m fuckin’ exposed, Sonny.
“And I ain’t runnin’ from you.”
My next breath bails.
For a second, I think he's fucking with me.
"You really expect me to believe that shit?"
“Sonny, c'mon.
“Why the fuck would I make that up?”
Only noticed I stopped pacing when he stopped talking. Now I’m just standing here knees dumb, lungs held hostage.
“Okay—hear me out—” I say, my hands up.
