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"You'd better not cut me," Negan threatened. "Or I'll…fuck. You'll be in serious fucking trouble."
"This isn't my first rodeo," Turtle said, sticking out her tongue. "Girls shave to, you know. More than men."
Turtle sat on the bathroom floor, crosslegged, resting comfortably atop a towel. She held the handle of a razor clenched between her teeth while her arm - her remaining arm - worked on trying to open the can of shaving cream. Negan sat across from her, his shirt discarded next to him. For a few moments he watched Turtle struggle, before clicking his tongue and gripping the can from her.
He unscrewed the top with ease. "You can ask for help, you know."
"I don't like to," Turtle replied, huffing. "I can get dressed and everything."
"Use the arm Daryl and…fuck, what was his name? Big guy with the mullet - fucking stupid ass haircut-"
"Eugene," Turtle corrected, huffing. "I didn't want to risk cutting you. It'll be fine," her tone softened. "You won't be doing even half the work."
Negan chuckled. "You're fucking right," he quickly reached a hand into the sink, wetting his face while Turtle, still holding the razor between her teeth, scooted closer, easing onto her knees. Negan's wet palms slid across her thighs as he leaned forward, and his mouth split into a wide grin.
"You know, it's not really fucking fair that I'm shirtless and you're not. Not fucking fair at all," Negan's hands crept beneath Turtle's shirt. He tilted his head. "Take that shit off for me."
Turtle lifted her hand and shot a stream of shaving cream onto his cheek. He gasped and Turtle dropped the razor, quickly leaning forward to plant a kiss against his mouth.
"Be patient."
"Goddamn, woman," Negan groaned. "Fucking shit."
"Did…Negan, did that turn you on?"
Negan hissed. He quickly smeared the shaving cream across his face, staying still as Turtle leaned forward, gently letting the razor sweep across his face. His breath was warm against her skin and she inched a little bit closer.
"How about this," Turtle said. "We shower after this. Get all this stuff off."
"We?" Negan said, lips barely moving. "Fuck yeah. I like that shit. You read my fucking mind."
Turtle hummed, moving to the other side of his face. She sprayed a bit more cream, allowing him to spread it with his own fingers.
"Maybe I'll leave it like this," Turtle snickered at the thought. "Caveman on one side."
"Fuck. You liked the beard," Negan raised his eyebrows. "Told me it was hot and shit. I thought you liked it scratching all up against your thigh when I was eatin' your pussy?"
"Never said that," Turtle bit her lip, feeling her face become flushed with arousal. "That, sir, is a lie."
"Uh-huh. Sure it fucking is."
Turtle coughed, scraping the razor against his chin. She grabbed a towel and wiped away the excess shaving cream, leaning back and reveling at his clean-shaven, beardless face.
"How do I look? Stroke my ego a little bit, baby. Tell me I look fucking hot - better than Prick Grimes, at least."
"Yeah. Yeah," Turtle nodded. "You look younger, I think. You're still do for a haircut. I can do that, too."
"Were you a fucking stylist before all this?"
"Nope. I worked in retail. Manager position," Turtle purred. She pressed a kiss against Negan's throat, her hand slipping past his jeans. "I have…experience in persuading customers to by the right product."
"And experience in saying shit like 'holy fuck, Karen, that dress looks fan-fucking-tastic on you!' when in reality that shit is four sizes too small for poor Karen."
"I never lied to a customer. And I certainly wouldn't to the man I love," Turtle grasped him, her thumb flicking over the head of his dick. He hissed, glancing down. She purred against his mouth, clenching his upper lip between her teeth and giving it a light tug.
Firmly, with the authority she knew Negan loved, she said, "Shower. Now."
"Yes, milady."