A few headcanons about what a relationship with Shane Maguire could be like:
âTerritory and protection
âShane perceives a loved one as part of his âreserved area.â Heâs not the type to text every minute, but youâll always feel his presence somewhere nearby.
âHeâll teach you how to navigate the park better than any map. If youâre out for a walk alone, heâll quietly follow your trail, just to make sure youâre safe, and heâll never admit it.
âThe language of love is âactions,â not words
âHeâs pathologically incapable of talking about feelings. Instead of âI love you,â heâll bring you a knife thatâs perfectly balanced for a hike, or silently clean the mud off your boots.
âIf you get sick, heâll turn into a stern but caring ânurse.â No sentimentality, just perfectly brewed herbal tea with ingredients heâs gathered himself, and temperature checks every half hour.
Shared Secrets
Shane is a man who lives in the shadows, and he expects his partner to share that burden. Relationships with him are about âus against the world.â
He has a few hideaways in the woods that even Kyle Turner doesnât know about. One of these places is a small ledge overlooking Yosemite Valley, where he allows himself to relax. Itâs the only place he can lay his head on your lap and fall asleep for 20 minutes, knowing that youâre âwatching.â
His âblackâ humor
His sarcasm is a defense mechanism. If he starts to tease you or ironize a dangerous situation, it means he trusts you completely.
Your arguments often resemble verbal duels. He loves to be given a proper rebuff. If you can make a witty comment on his next dark prank, you will see that rare half-smile that is meant just for you.
âGifts with a story
âHe will never buy anything in a gift shop.
âHis gifts are things with a story. It can be a rare fossil found in the mountains, an old ranger badge, or something he made with his own hands out of wood. He values ââauthenticity above all else.
âConflicts and reconciliation
âIf you have a fight, he will simply disappear into the woods for the night. But he will always return with a âtrophyâ (for example, your favorite berries or coffee from the city), which will be his silent way of apologizing.
Living with Shane is like living at the foot of a volcano: you know he can be devastating to enemies, but with you he's the most reliable rock in the entire park.
hey so um.... being agent kyle turner's daughter, shane maguire the man your dad absolutely despises, even more so with how he unabashedly flirts with you in front of him, he knows hes all sort of bad news, he tries to forbid you from seeing him but of course you disregard him at every chance you get and run off into the woods to meet up with shane, fucking nasty in his make shift camp site while he teases you and smiles disgustingly smug at having you whining and begging so pretty for him "oh baby, what would pops say if he heard you yapping like this huh? think he'd put a bullet straight through my head for using his sweet girl out in the open like this?"
warnings â mdni. pure smut. literally no plot at all, just smut. light choking, ass slapping, unprotected p in v, creampie. no use of y/n. reader is referred to as girl a couple times. slight possessiveness but theyâre not really in a relationship. not a whole lot of dialogue on the readers end. quickly proofread as always! let me know if iâm missing anything!
word count â 1k
a/n â hey⊠how yâall doin. i PROMISE i am working on the requests sitting in my inbox but i NEEDED to get this out of my system. i donât know if anyone will even read this honestly i just needed to get it out after finishing untamed. wilsonâs characters are infecting my brain guys itâs so bad đ anyway, here is some mid smut hehe
feedback is always appreciated <3
ââââââ .âŠ
The sticky feeling, salty smell of sweat is encapsulated in the two person tent that Shane had set up earlier in the day after moving his campsite. The dying campfire outside provided just enough light inside the tent to see what you were doing so that the two of you werenât fumbling through your movements.
He currently has you face down on your knees, taking you from behind. The sound of skin slapping as the snap of his hips makes contact with the back of your thighs fills the tent, along with your breathy whines. Youâre glad that youâre far enough away into the park where no other campers are tonight.
One of his hands is gripping you by your hips, pulling you back to meet the brutal snap of his hips while the other is squeezing at the globes of your ass greedily, hungrily. âLook so good taking my dick like this. Doing so well, you know that?â He questions, voice gravelly as he sharply swats at the fatty tissue with his large hand, the sound ringing out through the tent and your ears.
A quick yelp makes its way past your lips and all you can do is nod your head to answer himâbut it isnât a good enough response for him. His hips abruptly stop their movement and you whine, pushing yourself back against him to urge him to keep going.
He grips your hips firmly with his hands, pausing you from any movement. âAht, aht,â he scolds you in disapproval, âAsked you a question, girl.â He says, voice low.
âYes. Yes. Look so good, taking you so well. Pleaseâplease, Shane, keep going.â You manage to get out in between breaths, still trying to push your hips back against him, but the grip of his hands on your hips is too strong for you to fight against.
âThere we go,â a patronizing laugh falls from his lips, then a deep, rough strokeâhard enough to push your face further into the sleeping bag that the two of you were positioned on. âKnew you had it in you.â The words themselves are words of praise, but they sound mean, condescending coming from him.
He stays positioned inside of you, but you feel him readjusting. âUp.â He says, and you know itâs a command and not an option, so you follow it, pushing yourself up so that your hands are supporting your weight. He snakes his arm underneath your body, then up around you so that itâs crossed over top of your chest. He pulls your body back against his and heâs now sitting back on his feet, holding you against him.
You slump back against him, your back now pressed against his chest. He uses one hand to grip at your hip, hard enough that you know there will be a bruise there tomorrow. Your head lulls to the side and you feel him swipe his tongue against your jaw, nipping at the bone with his teeth.
He takes his other hand and wraps it around your neck, squeezing it gently on the sides to add pressure, then he finally begins to move again. He continues with his brutal pace, the new angle causing the head of his dick to press against the most sensitive parts of your walls.
You feel his hot breath against your neck as he fucks himself up into you now. He snakes his hand down from your hip to between your legs, using his fingers to rub circles against your clit.
âGonna make you come, yeah?â He breathes out, his hips jerking up into you faster. âThen Iâm gonna come inside you. Fill you so full of me.â The circles heâs pressing against your clit are becoming faster, quick whines and pants are falling from your mouth as you feel the familiar knot start to form in your stomach. Youâre close and he knows it. âCome on, girl. Come for me, come all over my dick.â He tells you, placing wet kisses against your jawline.
His verbal coaxing mixed with the deep drags of his dick against your tight walls are enough to push you over the edge. Youâre grasping at his hand thatâs placed on your throat as your body melts further against him, against his touches, and youâre letting out breathy moans of his name as the waves of your orgasm crashes into you.
Heâs fucking you through it, still rubbing circles against your clit. âAtta girl, thatâs my girl.â His words of praise are sweeter now, but the snap of his hips is still meanâunrelenting. Youâre starting to become over sensitive, too fucked out to respond and tears are falling freely from your eyes.
Youâre clenching around him through the aftershocks of your orgasm, and itâs enough to pull his own from him. âFuck, sheâs clenching me,â his voice is raw and you feel his grip around your neck tighten again as hot spurts paint your walls full of him. âSo full of me. Youâre mine.â He says finally, possessively. His movements are stilling, but he holds you close to him, still inside you.
He stays that way for a moment, both of your chests are heaving as you try to regain some air. His grip on your neck loosens before he gently places you back down against the sleeping bag on your stomach, pulling out of you in the process. You feel empty without him inside of you now.
He sits back against his feet again, reaching over for a wet rag that he had placed inside the tent earlier that night. He runs it down both of your arms, then your legs, doing his best to wipe the sweat away. âDoinâ okay?â He mutters, looking towards your face as your eyes are closed.
âMhm.â You respond, nodding your head weakly. He chuckles, using the rag to now wipe the sticky sweat from his own body before tossing it to the side of the tent.
âStill want to go out with me in the morning? Another report of sick deer that I gotta check into.â He asks, situating himself now so that heâs lying on the second sleeping bag thatâs beside you.
He watches as you nod in response, a small sound of agreement escaping you. He leans over and places a quick kiss against your hairlineâas much softness as he ever gives you, then turns back over to fall asleep.
first of all hello lover <3 iâm feeling feral so obv ended up hereâŠ..pondering leaving hickeys on shaneâs solid body to make him feel youngâŠ..perhaps biting his bicep when heâs fucking u good in missionaryâŠ.it gets him groaning louder than heâs been in bed for yearsâșïž need him cosmically.! anyway love ya ;)
hello yourself, sweetheart ⥠ugh, iâm so honored and blessed at your return. always get so giddy to see you in my notifs and inbox. this is just the place for that. gotta tell ya that i LOVE me some biting. as someone with a huge oral fixation, itâs easily top of my list for tropes. love you back ;)
Shaneâs got a problem on his hands. A problem with sharp nails and sharper teeth. You.
Youâve always been a problem, following him around like a lost deer, unrelenting in your pursuit. Heâs not much better off. Youâve softened him, though heâll never outright admit it. He let you in and let you stay. You havenât left since.
But lately, youâve been insatiable and heâs got the marks to prove it. Deep purple blotches peek out from his shirt collars and scatter across his chest.
Youâve gotten it in your head that the scales are unbalanced. That youâve got to make up for all the times Shaneâs left you with enough marks to put a horny teenager to shame.
It starts at his campsite, as most things between the two of you do. Heâs got his legs slung over the side of the cot with you straddling his lap. His hands are sliding up your shirt, squeezing you through your bra hard enough to make you moan.
Shaneâs got you right where he wants you, fingers roaming over your skin as he shoves his tongue down your throat. Youâre whining against him, needy and eager as you buck your hips against the growing budge in his pants.
You break away from his lips with a soft hum, moving to his jaw as your hands slide up his chest. He grunts as you lick down his neck, lips soft against the sensitive skin. You press your hips down harder against him and heâs biting back a groan as the surge of pleasure that races through him.
Then, youâre sucking against the skin of his neck and Shane canât quite think right. You move to that spot behind his ear that makes him weak and proceed to absolutely destroy whatever semblance of control he has left. Heâs moving his hands down to your hips, pushing you further down onto his dick as it strains against the fabric.
Youâre sliding your hands back down his chest, fingers inching under his shirt before raking your nails down his torso just light enough that he shivers. You grin at that, moving to suck another dark mark against his skin that has Shane cursing and dragging your clothed cunt against him harshly.
The fabric of your panties is sticking to you, creating a delicious friction as you grind down. Usually the two of you are at least halfway undressed by this point but any thoughts of that have been thrown out the window, both of you too caught up in the feeling of it all to do much but pant and moan.
You move your lips back up behind his ear, latching a bit harsher than before. Doubling your efforts, you drag your nails down his torso hard enough to leave marks in their wake.
Shaneâs grip on your hips tightens and he chokes out a moan. Suddenly, thereâs warmth flooding his pants and seeping into yours. You pull back slightly, eyes widening as you stare down at the patch of darkening fabric beneath you.
âDid you just-â
âShut up.â Heâs gritting out, cheeks flushing as he shoves you off of him. You stumble and fall against the cot but canât find it in yourself to care as you watch him stand, lip pulling between your teeth as you smile.
âWhenâs the last time you came like that?â You ask, trying to hold back a laugh because he looks so utterly shocked.
That has him turning to you with a scowl. ââS not fuckinâ funny.â He grits out, wincing slightly in discomfort as the sticky fabric settles against him. You hum in response, eyes raking over the large wet patch on the front of his jeans.
The fact that you were the cause of Shane cumming in his pants like a touch starved teenager is doing things to you. âI donât think itâs funny.â You reply, only lying a little bit as he works his belt open.
Shane raises his eyebrows, doubtful gaze finding yours before falling back to his pants. âIâm serious. I thought it was hot.â You admit, thighs squeezing together in an attempt to gain some relief from how incredibly turned on you are by this.
He scoffs at that, disappearing into the tent. You sigh, leaning back against the cot with a big smile. Yeah, youâre gonna have fun with this.
The next time is at his cabin. Youâre raking your nails down his back, drawing him impossibly closer as he fucks into you.
Heâs got you pressed down against the mattress, legs spread wide against his hips. Itâs overwhelming, the stretch of it all as he stuffs you full with every snap of his hips.
Youâre hyper focused on his arms as they cage you in, watching each flex of the muscles as he keeps himself over you with his forearms braced against either side of your head.
A particularly nasty thrust of his hips has you crying out and turning your face into his bicep. Youâre hardly thinking about it when you dig your teeth into the skin, moaning as the taste of it floods your tongue.
You donât even realize how hard youâre clamping down until Shaneâs groan breaks through the ringing in your ears. Itâs the loudest youâve heard him in a long time.
Shane tenses, you feel the muscles in his bicep jump, and moans brokenly. Then, heâs spilling inside of you, the rhythm of his hips faltering as he bucks through the aftershocks.
Heâs breathing heavily and looks down to see your lips splitting into a grin as you remove your teeth from his bicep, tongue sliding over the indentations.
Shane huffs and rolls his eyes, trying his best to remain nonchalant despite having just blown his load in about five minutes. âDonât know what youâre smilinâ about.â He states, pulling out.
âYouâre like a teenager.â You snort, rolling over and watching as Shane tucks himself back into his jeans. He turns back to you at that, eyes narrowing. âThe fuckâs that supposed to mean?â
You shrug, the grin on your face growing smug as you watch his brow pinch. âYouâve just been a little extra sensitive lately, thatâs all.â
Shane exhales heavily through his nose, leaning over to grab your ankle and drag you to the edge of the bed. You gasp playfully and turn to balance on your elbows. Heâs looking down at you in annoyance, a flicker of something softer crossing his face before itâs gone.
You raise your eyebrows, challenging him. âAm I wrong?â
âYouâre exploiting me.â He murmurs, leaning down to nose against your neck. His hand moves in between your legs, thumb pressing against your swollen clit. It has you arching into his touch with a moan. Then, heâs slipping two fingers into you with ease, soothing the ache thatâs been building since he started fucking you earlier.
âYouâre avoiding the question.â You whisper back, hips jerking up to meet the thrusts of his fingers.
Youâre too close is what he thinks.
âYouâre a real pain in my ass, you know that?â Is what he says instead.
we NEED more kyle's daughter x shane im salivating and sobbing
thank you for giving me an excuse to write about this. i am ALSO salivating and sobbing heheeee, hope you enjoy this lil ol thing xoxo
come out and play
turner!reader (kyleâs daughter) x shane maguire
cw: reader's mother is not the one from the series, reader is an ADULT. shane is a shameless flirt and a teasing pest, some light smut. still, content is 18+ MINORS DNI.
"that shane guy is a nasty piece of work" your father comments, effectively putting an end to the comfortable silence in the car ride home to his cabin
meanwhile, you have to swallow down a squeak at the very mention of the name
"oh, yeah-" you blurt out, when kyle (your dad) turns to look at you in response to the beat of silence that follows his sentence "he really is"
"i really don't know what he was playing at, barging into the crime scene today" he huffs out, gripping the steering wheel with far more force than before, his nostrils flaring "talking to you like that..."
he means the way shane literally stalked up to you and him, not a single leaf cracking to signal his arrival at the scene, like a skilled predator, only a sly smile on his face when he teased "is it bring your kid to work day or somethinâ?"
it took everything in you not to react the way you wanted to, not to snap at him for calling you âkidâ in that infuriatingly condescending way of his
it also took everything in you not to jump his bones on the very spot
even far worse when he went to address you directly, a fire in his stare, something that made your pulse sky rocket, shane had shamelessly eyed you from head to toe for your father to witness "wheres pop's been hiding you this whole time? s'been getting boring around here without you"
being a child of divorce can be complicated, specially when your mother lives all the way across the country, at least you can say it makes things far more interesting when you come back to yosemite every summer to spend time with your dad
its been a year since you've last been in the park, a year since you saw shane for the last time too
"dad, its okay..." you say, feeling far too guilty to hear him ramble on
"no, its not okay. i need you to promise me you'll keep your distance from him" your father worries, he tenses his jaw "don't need you getting tangled up in his mess, i have enough shit on my plate as is-"
"no yeah, of course" you agree, in a tiny voice, purposefully not promising anything in response, eyes locked on your fingers as they fiddle with the sleeves of your sweater
you don't have the heart to tell your father his warning is literally a few years too late
you don't have the heart to tell him theres a text message notification you've been staring at every few seconds, one thatâs been making your heart rate quicken and your insides go molten every time you read it
shane: so when is pops gonna let you come out and play?
âïžâïžâïž
âyou canât say shit like that in front of him, shaneâ you admonish, voice barely above a whisper with the way shane attaches to your neck and scratches at your skin with his stubbled jaw, every languid swipe of his tongue on your pulse leaves you breathless
âsânot like he thinks anything of it. trusts his babygirl a little too muchâ he answers, mocking, laughing at the end in a way that makes your blood boil
âstillâ you whine, voice abruptly going high at a particularly nasty thrust of his hips inside you, the impact of it makes you hike up the hard bark of the tree behind you, the one shane has you trapped against âi donât want to know what heâd do to you if he were to find outâ
at this he stills, he lifts up from his place buried at the side of your neck to look at you properly, a sickeningly satisfied look on his face âworried about me now?â he asks with a teasing lift of is brows, he takes your stunned silence as an answer before he continues âkyle hasnât killed me for a heck of a lot worse babyâ
your eyes go huge at the very idea of your dad being capable of killing someone for something like this, your stomach sinks at the realization that you don't think its far fetched either
âmâmore worried about what heâs gonna do to you" he's smiling far too big for the horrifying insinuation of your father finding out about this thing you have going on being an inevitable outcome
âshane-â you begin, but he doesn't let you finish
"no im serious. whatâdya think heâll say? when he finds out about you sneaking around behind his back, with me, all those years of getting fucked til you cry in some shitty campsite out in the woods?"
you squeak, panic makes a knot get stuck in your throat
"kyle's gonna pop a vein ir somethin'"
"shane, stop-" it's a warning that looses its bite when he sticks his tongue inside your mouth to shut you up, an amused chuckle muffled into your very lips
shane's thrusts grow insistent and brutal, burying himself to the hilt with every slant of his body, almost like he wants to rip away the most visceral reactions from you, he wants the loudest yelps and cries to echo in the dark and cold of the woods around you both
âyeah thats it, want them to hear you. want them to know how good you are for me baby. agent turnerâs sweet girl- not so sweet turns out huh?â he groans with a mean chuckle, gripping at your hips with relentless force, forcing you to meet his dizzying pace
âyou're such a fucking asshole!â you whine, gripping at the hair at the top of his head in a balled fist, it makes his head snap backwards with a surprised growl deep from within his stomach
âgetting fiesty on me now. y'been holding out on meâ he rasps, teasing you with dark humor in his eyes, smiling with a snarl before he ads âstarting to remind me of someone baby, yeah- apple doesn't fall too far does it?â
Shane Maguire with actual feelings for you is sooo nervous and fake-nonchalant. like, the thing is, heâs sort of a loser and he knows it. in the sense that he has almost nothing to offer a longterm partner. heâs a 40 year old man who lives in a tent in the woods and whenever heâs not working heâs sitting in a fold-out chair getting high. he was never self-conscious until he realized he wants you and now heâs so mad at the thought that you might not want him back.
donât get me wrong heâll still put on the smug asshole routine for you. but heâs gritting his teeth and sweating when it doesnât reel you in.
especiallyyyyy if he has to watch you smile and flirt with someone else. someone younger and sweeter than him. this 20-something kid is pulling out your chair for you and smoothing down his button-up shirt and Shane is just. quietly seething in the corner. the longer it goes on the more upset he gets until he starts considering something drastic (being nice to you)
dex needs constant reassurance during sex. he could be pounding into you, making you see stars with his cock, and he would still be asking you if he's doing okay.
"am i- is this okay? baby, tell me m'good-- please" he's whining muffled words into the crook of your neck as his tip slams against your g-spot repeatedly, enough to have you clawing at his back, leaving angry red marks on his skin.
he's focused solely on your pleasure, he gets off when you get off. so when you're too fucked-out to reply to him, he's panicking. he doesn't understand that he's making you feel so good to the point where you can't form a coherent sentence.
"is it not good? oh god- do y'not like it?" he tends to spiral, so you have to talk in order to keep him going. "i-it's good, dex-- fuck!-- feels s'good" your fingers card through his hair, tugging at the blonde strands, which earns you a choked whimper.
"y-yeah?" he moans out whorishly, his breath hot against your neck. he's desperately trying to keep his pace from faltering. "tell me- can you tell me y'love me? p-please?" he snakes his hand down between both of your sweaty bodies and rubs tight circles on your clit, causing you cry out and arch into him further as pleasure shoots through your limbs. "love you!" you mewl, the only thing you can say when he's making you feel like this.
your orgasm crashes over you with his name lingering on your tongue, your pussy clenching and fluttering around him obscenely. he finishes directly after you, he was only holding off because he always makes sure you cum first. he doesn't want to be selfish, after all.
he collapses on top of you, practically panting. his cock is still sitting inside of you, his warm release settling. he'd probably never admit it, but your words of praise are his favorite part of sex.
â 18+, DD:DNE, MDNI; f!reader, age gap (reader in her mid-20s), hunting, animal death, dubcon, rough outdoor sex, shitty first time, degradation, size kink he's big, piv, creampie, one slap (for shane), no y/n, use of : kid, kiddo, sweetheart, wc: 3k3.
summary; youâre spending the summer working in the park, and you wouldnât say no to losing your virginity to shane⊠except he doesnât give a fuck abt you (until he takes you on a hunt, and maybe he does give a fuck).
you spot him on your first day. backward cap, all camo, cocky grin and a hunting rifle slung over the shoulder. heâs dirty like all the men that spend too much time in the wilderness, not domesticated enough to give a shit about the grime under their nails or the buckâs blood on their pants. one of the elder rangers scoffs when she sees him, warning you not to get too close. âthat oneâs a piece of shit honestly⊠better to stay away.â
you donât say anything.
you run into him at the hotelâs bar a few days later. he cleaned up niceâheâs older than you first thought, fines lines around the eyes and dirty blond hair streaked with white and grey. cute when he laughs telling his stupid stories; the kind of man that likes to hear himself talk. you grab a beer and join the group heâs part of, someone introducing you as the new addition to the team for the summer. he gives you a hungry look, a glance that leaves very little to the imagination, but barely speaks to you. it stings your ego a bit.
you meet him on other occasions; youâre always with someone else, and he never gives you much attention. in spite of yourself, you develop a crude infatuation with him; an embarrassing thing that coils in your guts and makes your cunt ache for a man that should repulse you. the other girls that volunteered previous summers talk about him in a bragging tone, as if being fucked by the wildlife management officer is some badge of honor. desire makes a strange, ugly thing out of you. you try to find ways to see him, to talk to himâevery time you do, heâs polite, albeit a bit rough around the edges, but nothing more.
at night you crave him, teeth and body yearning, fingers wet from hunger, staining your pillow with his name. you rub your clit thinking about him, pinching a nipple imagining that it's his hands on you, and you close your eyes thinking about his mouth, about him eating you until his jaw ache, about cumming on his tongue, his thick fingers curled inside you.
he occupies your thoughtsâa distant figure that clings to your flesh, tepid, latent. a fake scenario that only exists in the hollow of the quiet hours.
until he becomes real, one stupid afternoon.
youâre sent down an old trail to check on an abandoned building, and you end up getting completely lost. you donât really know how it happens, the forest simply swallows youâsuddenly thereâs nothing around you but a suffocating green and the deafening clamor of insects. the day is scorching hot and even in the trees shade, youâre sweating. your clothes cling to your damp skin, the salt of your pores pricking every little cut youâve gotten on the wild paths. youâre lost in your thoughts, fingers crinkling the paper of your map when a hand grabs your shoulder. harsh, violent.
your heart leapsâ
âthe fuck you doinâ here? this area is supposed to be clear for the day.â
of all the people wandering through the woods, he's the one you had to stumble upon.
the tone of his voice and a glimpse at his face tell you that heâs pissed. you clench your jaw, trying not to let the situation get the best of you.
âsorry i uhâgot lostâŠâ
shane scoffs, looking down on youâand fuck, the disdain in his gaze hurts. stupid girl. you fantasized about a moment like that. him and you, alone in the woods. the kind of bullshit scenario straight out of some cheap amateur porn found online; reality leaves a bitter taste on your tongue.
âyeah, âfigured. canât fuckinâ hunt with your ruckusâŠâ he spits.
your teeth graze your lower lip, spilling out a nervous frustration you'd rather hide.
âcan you help me find this old hunting lodge? iâve got a map but i donât know where i amâŠâ
he sighs loudly, adjusting the rifle on his shoulder.
âcome with me. âgot a deer to kill⊠iâll give you a ride after. itâll be quicker than to have you fuckinâ roaminâ around for two hours.â
you obey.
his pace is military and you do your best to follow him; you hide your short breath behind your teeth, ignoring the burn of your muscles and the flood between your shoulder blades. he navigates through the forest as you imagined he wouldâindifferent to its beauty.
you walk for half an hour before he slows down. he makes you stop near a clearing, a hole in the dense tangle of the woods, where the trees tear apart and open up to the sky; a burst of pale blue eating up the edges of a cliff. the deer is laying on the sun-scorched grass and you can see its flank rising up, up and down, fast, feverish, all dirty fur and sick eyes.
you turn back to shane, ready for whatever comes next. butâinstead of the irritated look he'd been giving you up until now, you're met with inquiring eyes. a slight grin on the lips, gaze wandering all over your body, he's sizing you up.
âwant to kill it?â he asks bluntly.
you never killed an animal. you know how to use a hunting rifle, but you've never killed anything with it. âi can try,â you hear yourself reply. you kneel next to him and he gives you his weaponâlighter than youâd imagine, barely seven pound of cold metal and carbon fiber. you secure the rifle against your shoulder, head tilted to find the scope, instinctively trying to shape your grip into something that feels natural. it's not as easy as he makes it look.
he doesn't give you time to adjust.
a hand darts out to correct your posture from behind your back and suddenly his face is right over your shoulder, too close to yours, his palms all over your body, straightening an elbow, an arm, a wrist. you didn't see him move. he says to relax, a hand flattening the curve of your neck, his stubble an almost-scratch on your lobe. you feel his breath on your cheek and all you can think of is how easy it would be to turn your head and leave the rifle here and taste something real on his lips. you feel the weight of his palm on your drenched skin, brain fixated on the pressure, hunger burning your guts like a dog bite.
you could leave the rifle here.
you try to think about the deer youâre going to kill.
âneed to aim for the center mass. âshould have a good view of its flank from here.â
his voice is low, sickly warm on the hollow of your neck. you nod, mind still trying to adjust to the mass of his body pressed into your back, to his scent, a mix of pine, honeysuckle, of sweat and cheap manly deodorant. he steadies your dominant hand, rough touch on damp skin.
âright spot is just behind the shoulder. âsee it?â
you struggle to focus, eye on the target, adjusting the scope until youâre able catch every wound on the animalâs fur. the image is sharp, suppurating. you give shane another nod, unable to speak; in the back of your mouth, your vocal chords feels like barbwire.
ânow, weâre close enough to aim without having to compensate for bullet drop. when youâre ready, stop your breathinâ and press the trigger slow.â
his hands move to your hips, a false anchor that only distracts you more. in your throat, you feel every contraction of your heart. you wonder how many beats per minute that is and you stop breathing and you press the trigger. slowly. and for a second youâre not you anymore, youâre a pulse, bare, primal, you're the recoil, the kick in your muscles, the sound and the smell of the chemical compounds scattering in the air. on impact, the deer startles and falls. you see blood staining the fur, you feel his hands leaving your hips to smother your biceps. you want this moment to linger, you want the awkwardness and the proximity to stretch, but shaneâs already up, snatching the rifle from your hands, ejecting the cartridge and reloading in one swift move. you watch him approach the beast, barrel aiming at the carcass in case the animal might still be alive. a boot kick assures him it's not.
he gives you a nod from afar. and, for the first time, you see a genuine smile on his face.
âthink you just earn'd your beer,â he admits when you join him to witness your kill.
you help him wrap the corpse in a tarp, securing it with thick ropes. half an hour later, you're at his camp, savoring the promised rewardâand, after dragging the carcass for a mile and a half in a stifling inferno, even his shitty pilsner tastes like heaven.
one beer becomes two, two becomes three and you lose count, rocked by his stories, the flow of his voice, your laughers. you feel soft and mellow in the heat, looking at his face, barely listening to what he says, mind focused on how close you sit, on the accidental brush of his fingers against your thigh, on the warmth of his knee against yours. you see his lips move but words have lost their meaning; you think about the glint of pride in his eyes when you killed the deer, about his mouth on yours, you think about his fingers, about him ruining you.
and when the silence comes back, your gazes hook and the air feels syrupy, thick between your lips. your eyes fall to his mouth, suspended on his grin. you can almost taste him. your brain is floating in a boldness that smells like alcohol and you stop thinking and you fall foward and you press your lips against his. and, for a second, he kisses you too, tongue pushing inside your mouth, swallowing an embarrassing moan that escapes you. one of his hands runs to your neck, possessive, squeezing slightly. your teeth sink into his bottom lips, grazing the skin and
he pushes you away.
âeasy girlââ
he snikers, half-smile, fingers wiping your bite on his lips.
âwhat? i thââ
âyeah i get you want my dick but i ainât touching a 20 somethinâ virgin sorry. pussy not worth the trouble.â he tilts his beer toward his mouth, shaking his head before taking a sip. heat creeps on your face, ugly, humiliating. you wonders how he knows, if someone told him or if itâs just written on your face, but it doesnât really matter. you quickly learned that things never stay secret for long âround here. people have nothing to do but talk.
youâre too drunk to care. you know about him too, about the girls he fucks, the stories they tell at night, cigarette in their mouth and tongues loose from the alcohol, comparing the places where he fucked them, the number of times, what he did, never quite sure if it was really good or if they're lying to feel different from the others. iâm the one he took care of. you know shane doesnât take care of anybody but himself. and maybe deep down, this is what makes you wetâthe perspective of forgetting about your self-respecting principles to get fucked dumb in the forest by a man who does not care.
âthatâs not what i heard,â you retort.
he laughs again.
ââm tryinâ to do you a favor here kiddo. donât know what youâve heard ân what youâre expectinâ but this ainât gonna match your fantasy.â you look at him and he looks at you, his dead eyes contradicting every one of his words, eating up your body like a piece of meat.
your nails scratch the label of your beer absently. âyeah i get it. âtoo old to get it hard after a beer and a day in the bushes uh.â petty words escape your lips and you want him to hurt. it doesnât really work. his smile grows so wide you feel his face is gonna disappear; soon heâll be only teeth.
âorâmaybe youâre just not doinâ it for me sweetheart.â
piece of shit. it hurts and you understand too late thatâs what gets him off; toying with the latest girl infatuated with him. how far can he go before giving you what you came for. how much filth can he spew before changing his mind and coaxing you with honey. piece of shit. you put down your beer and you get up and you donât know anymore you donât know youdonâtknowâ
you slap him.
you only see your hand on his cheek. you only see the consequence of the offense. your hand, hot, his cheek, hot.
the sound resonates in the camp like a caning.
youâre as surprised as him by your gesture. he stares at you and thereâs nothing gentle in his eyes anymore. nothing curious or amused. the impact of your deed brutally sinks inâbehind your navel, a hook tears your flesh. hot. shane loses his smile. âso this want you want uh.â he puts down his beer and he gets up too. slowly. he looks down on you, face inches from yours, frame eating up your field of view. the afternoon is almost dead and youâre suffocating.
âalright,â he nods. âalright.â
he grabs you and pushes you against a tree, yanking your shorts and underwear without gentleness. they fall in the dirt, trampled by your faltering steps. a hand smothers you, forces you to turn around, face against the bark and he kicks your legs apart, almost making you lost balance. heart on the edge of your lips, your blood pounds so hard in your skull that the world seems to go silent between each beat. you donât hear the insectsâ noise anymore; everything feels blurry and too much. under his palm, your sweat turns cold. he comes closer, his chest clinging to your back, swallowing you against his frame. you feel powerless and maybe maybe he was right and youâre gonna regret this and you should have listened and not desire something ugly and rough and violent and maybe,maybeâ
one of his hands runs to your belly, slides between your thighs and two fingers breach you. thick, calloused. you buck instinctively but his weight on your spine pins you in place. your ass, bare, meets his bulge, tearing a grunt from his lips. you feel his exhale against your neck, blunt, burning. âfuck youâre so wet already⊠you like it rough uh.â and itâs a taunt and not a question, âcause your body spills what you want even if youâre not sure what youâre gonna get. between your drenched thighs, his fingers go back and forth a few times; enough to make you whimper but you're not even sure you can call that shit foreplay, a minute or two and he stops, leaving your cunt clenching around nothing. you hear the metallic noise of his belt before feeling him lining his cock with your pussy, a hand on your hip, the other gripping the heavy tip that he presses against your slit. you canât see him but you know heâs big, the girls giggled about it, and he doesnât take the time to stretch you more, to sweeten the deal, itâs here, itâs now, youâre gonna take his cock like a big girl, ân itâs him pushing inside, hard, raw, prying obscenities out of your mouth and fuck it hurts it hurts. âfuck, shaneâstoâfuckfuckfuââ you squirm and you writhe but you can't escape his hold, only making things worse for you the more you move. youâre impossibly stretched around his cock and itâs already too much; tears prickle on the edge of your eyes and it makes him laugh again.
âyou need to relax kid, itâs just the tip,â he mocks. and he starts to really sink in, inch by inch, taking his time âcause youâre so tense he has no choice but to go slow. the grip on your hips tighten and you know his hands are gonna leave dents in your flesh and you try to hold back a whine but you can't and it pours out of you, it pours and you feel nothing anymore but his cock penetrating you, belly ablaze, torn by how thick he is. both of your breaths are ragged when he finally bottoms out, pelvic bones pressed against your ass, your spine arched impossibly as your body tries to fit his cock. you feel split, and something wet and sticky dripping on your thighs and you hope you hope it's only arousal and sweat. he leans in and caresses the back of your head, fingers grabbing your hair, almost tender when he pulls back to whisper to your ear. "see? y'can take it," and you feel sick 'cause all you want in this instant is to make him proud. he loosens his grip and his hand goes back to your hip and you know that tomorrow, you'll have his fingerprints engraved on your skinâblue, green and yellow.
there's no warning when he starts fucking you for real.
without giving you a minute to really catch your breath he starts to move, almost pulling out to better sink in, deep, buried to the hilt, hips rolling to set a brutal pace. soon the forest echoes with the wet sounds of your bodies crashing into each other, your broken moans and the obscene noises of his pelvis and his balls hitting your ass. that too, is gonna leave a mark. your cunt's hot and throbbing, and you feel every thrust slapping your sodden and swollen flesh, pain and pleasure blending in your skull. he's cruel and it's too much and you still can't get enough, your palms embedded in the bark in a futile attempt to soften his brutal thrusts. when he slows down it's only to fuck you deeper, to make you feel every inch of his cock splitting your tight pussyâyour legs burn and shake and you think you're gonna fall but he only grips you tighter.
he comes before you do.
you feel him swell impossibly, close, halfway collapsing on you, forehead pressed to your spine, cursing and grunting when your cunt contracts again around his cock and he breaks suddenly, his thick cum filling you up. he does not care about you and you feel used and it feels good and your hands leave the tree and you start touching yourself, abusing your clit, your fingers inadvertently grazing his softening dick until he pulls out, leaving your spasming hole spitting his cum. you're a mess of sperm, spit, sweat. you feel everything dripping out of you, panting, cock-drunk, trying to chase your own orgasm; he's still half-leaning on you, and his hands still on your flesh, refusing to let you go. you think about the bruises and the pain and the weight of his head between your shoulder blades, his ragged breath, his impossible warmth that still swallows you, his fingers tightly gripping your hips and he says nothing and it builds, it builds in your belly until you can't take it anymoreâyou snap and you come too, his name spat by your mouth like an insult.
your release makes you feel like an animal, body shaking, anesthetized by oxytocin and adrenalin, too numb to feel shame or pain. you want him to hold you tight in his arms but he doesnât, he simply whispers 'good girl' in your ear, patting your ass like you pet a bitch after a perfect trick. he straightens up and sets you free and you know youâre gonna hurt tomorrow, you're gonna bruise, youâre gonna break and youâre gonna have to lie about it but you donât care, you donât care.
your teeth have come in and now you only want more.
dex and shane headcanons because i need them to go on a paris trip with me.
dex loves it from the front
â he loves to see all the pleasure written on your face. he wants to see how your mouth looks as you make those lewd noises, how you bite your bottom lip, and every time tears well up from how good he is making you feel. as well as how your eyes roll back every time he hits your sensitive spot.
â i repeat... watching you cry under him.
â eye contact.
â your tits are literally right on his face. he can just lean down and suck a nipple while still buried inside you, tongue flicking hard in time with his thrusts. or heâll squeeze them, pinch until you yelp. he loves to watch them bounce with every slam.
â he loves to fold you in half. legs hooked over his shoulders, your knees near your ears. heâs hitting your g-spot with every stroke. no wasted movement.
â holding hands or pinning them above your head.
â he loves when you lock your legs around his waist to pull him deeper.
â when you try to squirm away from overstimulation, he presses your hips flat into the mattress and keeps pounding. his thumb finds your clit and rubs rough fast circles until youâre sobbing and clenching around him.
â nails digging on his back and scratching him!!
â make out or kisses all over your face while doing it.
shane loves it from the back
â first of all⊠face down, ass up.
â he could just pull your head back by the hair and arch your back for him. his other hand grips your hip, forcing you to take every inch.
â he can easily hit your g-spot because the curve of his cock aligns perfectly with the natural tilt of your pelvis.
â fucking you in headlock. he loves how you drool and bite down on his bicep.
â ass man. he loves the way it bounce against his pelvis. he could just slap and grab your ass. also spreading you open with his thumbs just to watch his cock disappear inside you. đ”âđ«
â prone bone pinning!!! he pushes you flat on your stomach, then lies on top of you, full weight pressing you into the mattress. you canât move and canât breathe deep. he slides his arms under your shoulders and grabs your tits, or wraps one arm around your neck and fucks you slowly, deeply, grinding while whispering the filthiest shit into your ears. no escape.
â wrists tied or held behind your back.
â shoves your face into the mattress or couch cushion and just destroys your hole from behind.
â mirror sex. making you watch yourself get slutted the fuck out!!! would also make you play with yourself while he fucks youâŠ
first piece 4 shane kinda nervy.......pls accept my humble offering...this came to me in a vision â (âáŽÍËŹáŽÍ) àŒ
tags: bf!shane maguire x afab!reader, established relationship, implied age gap (unspecified), explicit sexual content, dry humping, choking, outdoor sex, voyeurism (??), unprotected p-in-v (ur sick of me saying it but wrap it fr), praise (both receiving), degradation (f receiving), shane gives reader's cunt pronouns <3, creampie, c0ckwarming, shane carries reader into cabin without slipping out, two rounds, intentional lowercase, fluff, shane's a loser in love, they're def round 3-ing after idk
summary: shane returns to your shared cabin after a week-long, irritating hunt on his atv and he looks....good. â
the familiar roar of an engine grew louder outside the suffocating four walls of your cabin and your smile grew with it. finally. you leapt across the small cabin floor, cursing the raw excitement that made you drop your book and trip over your feet as you raced to the door. you threw it open just in time to see your boyfriend break through the treeline, perched on his atv, speeding toward you. with a beaming smile, you sprinted in his direction â shoes be damned â to meet him in the middle of the dirt driveway.
shane barely had a moment to throw the atv in park before you threw your body weight on him, arms wrapped lovingly and suffocatingly around his dewy throat. the impact tugged his handkerchief from around his nose to expose the lower half of his face in a ruggedly handsome smile.
"hi babyâoofâjesus, someone miss me?"
"mhm," you whined into the black t-shirt clinging to his built torso. shane only chuckled, snaking his strong arms around your waist. you inhaled him then; a delightful fragrance of smoky leather, earth, sweat, the faintest hint of his favorite old spice cologne. it was overwhelmingly shane. your stomach did a flip when you realize the cologne had been freshly spritzed so he didn't smell entirely like a mountain man when he returned to you.
you released him from your iron embrace. the corners of shane's mouth curled up as you pulled away to peer up at him in the way that made his knees weak, though he'd never tell you. as if you were the only one neck-deep in this relationship.
his beautiful tan skin was speckled with dirt from his drive, revealing a slight outline of his sunglasses once you pushed them back through his greying locks to sit on top of his head. he grinned in approval at your outfit choice as he shamelessly checked you out: a bikini and daisy dukes that left little to the imagination. the bikini bottom ties sat high on your hip bone high above the waistline of the jean shorts; so, naturally, shane had to put an embarrassing amount of concentration into not creaming his pants.
shane's hands moved to sit properly on your hips, thumbs kneading your flesh gently. the sensation had you squirming in his lap until, at long last, he dipped his head down to kiss you.
a week. it had only been a week.
yet, now, with shane's lips kissing, nibbling on yours, it felt like a lifetime ago that you'd last seen him. you knew shane couldn't help his absences for his hunts. but fuck, he made you miss him.
a rumble of a laugh escaped shane when you ground your hips against him. he broke your kiss only slightly, lifting his hand to your face and swiping his thumb over your swollen bottom lip, pushing around the mixed saliva coating it.
"yeah? you wanna go for a ride, darlin'?"
shane groaned, watching your pretty head nod up and down. his stiffening dick twitched in his camouflage pants. a stunning smile met your lips and in combination with the summer heat, your beauty had shane's head spinning. his sweet girl that he absolutely does not deserve glimmering like a mirage in the sun.
eager, you found shane's lips again, opening yourself to him as his tongue danced in your mouth. you met it's every swipe and caress with your own, earning you a delighted grunt from the back of shane's throat. he rocked his hips against yours gently, length grazing your clit delightfully. a wanton moan bled into his mouth and shane lapped it up gratefully.
his arms squeezed you now, and he made to stand up. you broke the kiss and shook your head 'no.'
"y'don't wan'me to fuck you, sweetheart?"
"no!" you all but screamed to shane's amusement. "that's not it! i want you here. now."
"baby, i'm fuckin' filthy."
you made a strangled noise, eyebrows drawing together. as if a little dirt had stopped him before! shane knew he didn't stand a chance against your pouting. you rolled your eyes when he sighed, smirk sliding back into place as he gazed down at you.
"she really misses me, huh?" shane's words traveled straight to your core. you didn't miss his patronizing tone, either. but despite yourself, you couldn't disagree when he was grinding into you like that any more than you could deny your damp bikini bottoms. "fingers can only get you so far, right, pretty girl? hmmâŠshe's just so fucking greedy."
your enthusiastic nod made shane mutter a quick "fuck" under his breath. you tore off his canvas overcoat, exposing his muscular arms to your hungry eyes. yes, you thought when your fingers reached shane's belt, she's very fucking greedy indeed.
with a little bit of calculated maneuvering, shane was able to push his pants down his thighs and you were able to ditch your bottoms. he coated his mushroom tip in your slick, relishing in the moan you let out as he entered ever-so-slightly. the lack of proper preparation made the stretch burn more than usual; your sensitive walls slowly yielding inch after inch.
"pussy's so fuckin' tight, good god," shane gasped. "so fuckin' perfect, hmm?"
"shane," you whined, eyes rolling back when he bottomed out. the sick fuck thought of hunting to keep from cumming immediately. "please."
calloused hands held your hips in place, but you bucked against shane's strong hold, desperate for relief.
"easy, girl," he cooed. "'s okay, i know, i know. she needs a reminder of why she puts up with her old man, huh?"
shane chuckled as you clenched around him. tears of pleasure prickled the corners of your eyes. any remaining shame you had died when you awarded him a shy nod.
"fuck, that's good. go 'head, honey, show me how much you missed me."
shane sat back as you lifted your hips, now free of his bruising grip. the drag of his swollen cock within you was magnificent, each ridge and vein lighting up your nerves. your boyfriend let out a low grunt on the third stroke, perfect teeth nearly drawing blood from his lower lip.
you began a gyrating rhythm, fingernails dragging lines down his solid biceps to leave deep red scratches in their wake. the breeze tickled your exposed lower back, reminding you of your natural surroundings. the thought of some poor, lost soul accidentally stumbling upon this scene was shockingly erotic. a new wave gushed between your thighs, your union creating the most vile, obscene noises.
shane swallowed your mewls of pleasure in a mind-numbing kiss. one of his hands cupped your jaw, fingers sliding into your hair, while the other settled possessively on your throat. your breath hitched when his hand on your throat made a 'V' around your windpipe, pressure almost entirely on your arteries. the combination of shane's cockhead pistoning against your cervix and lack of bloodflow to your brain had you seeing stars. each thrust carved a salacious moan from you. shane smirked something wolfish as he began to meet your thrusts from below, doubling the tension in your core.
"that's it. that's my girl," shane growled, relishing in the view of your eyes rolling back in pleasure. "take it. s'all yours, baby."
your answering whimper made shane's cock jump inside you. slipping past the hem of his shirt, your nails traced patterns on his abs; caressing, circling, outlining the slabs of muscle. shane let out a shudder and low moan, lips ghosting the shell of your ear as his thumb moved from the side of your face to stroke your clit.
"f-fuck, shane, i'm close," you said, eyes fluttering shut.
"you better fucking open those pretty eyes and look at me when you cum, sweetheart." the threat in shane's voice promised serious consequences. unfortunately, you were so horny and desperate for him that your eyes shot open instantly. a condescending laugh tickled your neck, where shane laid sweet kisses along your delicate skin. your cheeks burned in embarrassment, but your bouncing pace didn't falterâif anything, it spurred you on.
"s'that big dick feel good, baby? s'it nice and deep?" he taunted, tongue drawing gentle spirals below your ear.
"yesâfuckâ's so deep, shaney," you replied, breathing heavily. "always fuck me so good." the whine of your tone coating his name made shane's balls ache. he hadn't realized how much he missed you, either.
"mm, i know, baby. you gonna cum for me?"
with the mounting pressure in your core, you could barely hear shane over the euphoria, but you nodded pathetically anyway. he groaned, head falling against your shoulder.
"yeah? shit, that pussy's so fucking tight." shane ground out the words between clenched teeth, teetering on his own release.
"shane, please," you begged, trying to pull him ever closer.
"there y'go, baby, that's it. cum all over me, that's it, good girl."
the tension in your core snapped like a worn rubber band and your vision exploded white. wave after wave of pleasure washed over you as you rode it out on shane's cock. your cries echoed through the tranquil woods. shane's orgasm followed not long after, the hand that had been working your clit now holding your hip firmly as he fucked you on him like a fleshlight. the lack of resistance where you were joined sent shane hurtling over the edge. a broken sound met your ears when he throbbed inside you, thrusts getting sloppy.
shane's hand on your throat eased up the pressure as his lips found yours again. your hips and legs were twitching with aftershocks, much to your boyfriend's delight.
"just needed me to take care of you, hmm?" he asked, tapping your chin to answer.
you nodded, but shane stared at you expectantly, brow raised. you flushed brighter under his gaze.
"needed you to take care of me," you repeated with big eyes and shane was done for. his softening cock jerked inside you as your fingers traced his sharp jaw.
his lips claimed yours again, tongue slipping into your mouth with ease. no sooner did your arms wrap around shane's shoulders than did shane pick you up and dismount the atv, staying tucked inside you. a thrilled moan ripped through you, pulling a genuine laugh from shane.
you kissed him feverishly as he flung open the cabin door, not even bothering to close it as he hauled you to the bed. as soon as your back hit the mattress, your legs locked around shane's waist.
"fuck, baby, so wet," shane grumbled against your lips. his blonde brows were drawn together in overstimulation, thrusting shallowly. "she needs more?"
you hummed, taking shane's lower lip between your teeth to pull and nibble on softly. he grunted loudly in response, cock throbbing in tandem. as your tongue and teeth clashed together, shane grew harder and harder inside you, slowly fucking your mixed cum deeper. you felt him everywhere in your body, lighting up your nerves like a christmas tree.
"pussy's squeezin' me so fuckin' good, fuck," shane muttered, "gonna make me fill you up again."
a particularly hard thrust pushed your hips into the mattress and a moan from your throat. the bed creaked as shane began to plow you through the mattress, using it to bounce you on his length. his fingers closed around your right nipple, twisting and pulling it between them. the sensation shot down between your legs like lightning.
"shane!" you moaned, feeling yourself go mindless underneath him. "rightthererightthererightthere, oh god, yesyesyes."
he fucked you with fervor, weighty balls slapping against your ass. lewd sounds filled the room as you made out with shane, both hands cradling his handsome face. shane's pelvis ground perfectly into your swollen clit. he was barely moving now, only pulling out an inch before sliding back in. you'd never felt so full in your life.
"god, you look so pretty takin' me like that, honey," shane whispered. "s'hard to go without, y'know?"
a stunning grin met your lips. you nodded in earnest agreement, knowing that was about as close you would get to getting shane to admit he missed you, too. it filled your heart just the same, seeing the sincerity reflected back in his beautiful hazel eyes.
"i love you, shane maguire," you said, sweet as a peach. shane's face hurt from smiling down at you, a touch of pink in his cheeks, and he looked years younger.
"fucking love you so much," he mumbled into your mouth, hiding in the kiss.
your second orgasm hit you like a train. with no warning, your back arched away from the bed into shane's strong frame. one of his arms slipped underneath you to hold you closer as he fucked you through it. he swallowed your moans with devastating passion.
"mm, right behind you, sweetheart," shane said, unoccupied hand resting on your throat.
pleasure had you on cloud nine and you clung to shane in your sensory overstimulation. you clamped down on him, riding it out. his hips stuttered to a stop as he spilled into you once more with a grunt. sensitive now, shane elected to stay still, forehead pressed against yours. shane's big arms caged your head between them, braced on his elbows as to not entirely crush you. however, he knew you liked his weight on top of you for some strange reason, so he halfway laid on you. you let out a giggle, your exchanged breaths slowing together.
an adoring smile crept onto shane's face as he gazed down at you. the tinge of pink still colored his cheeks when he pecked your forehead and buried his face in your neck. your chest tightened at his rare display of unfiltered affection, knowing you'd be spending the entire morning just like this.
cw: mean!shane, age gap, slapping, bj, degrading kink.
[part 1] [part 2] [masterlist]
you went back to shane again. no matter the last time you spent with him always ended up hurting your feelings.
but the hurt is temporary, your aching to be close with him is permanent. he makes you feel like the way none of those guys your age would ever understand.
you feel safe around shane, in his big arms that feels like home. and you crave his attention, the adrenaline of seeking him out in the woods is like being hunted by him. you love it and you need him more than air to breathe.
"saw you from where i was hunting the deer. always coming back here don't you, bambi?" he climbs off from his quad bike and takes off his gloves as he walks toward the tent.
you sit comfortably on the log, taking a sip of the gross beer in your hand. "why not?"
"why not?" he scoffs like he's mocking you, wiping his hands clean before coming to your spot and snatching the beer can. "what, you don't have a life there in the town? wild ain't good for a girl like you."
"i like it here." you look up at him as he drinks and he raises his brow at you. "here or me?"
"yeah... uh, you." you shrug and he shakes his head, nudging your knee to make you scoot over so he can sit next to you. "you couldn't find someone better? m' too old for you bambi."
"doesn't matter." you mumble and he exhales before taking another sip of his beer.
"stupid girl, that's what you are."
you could cry at the insult and maybe he's right, you really are stupid. but you like how he treats you mean and it makes you wet just to think about it. you lower your gaze from him and fidgeting with your nails.
and shane isn't blind, he knows you well enough to notice the signs of how worked up you are, it gives him too much pride for his self confidence.
he takes a rough swig of his beer and stands up again, tossing the can into the trash bag before stepping in front of you.
"can't even hide it can you, bambi?" he taunts, bringing a hand to squeeze your cheeks. "if that's what you want."
he drops his hand and starts unbuckling his belt, your eyes follow his movement with a thump in your heart. the next he unzips his pants and lets his cock free, he grunts as it still half hard.
"open up, c'mon." he says while giving his cock a few strokes before leaning forward to put it into your mouth.
your mouth opens wide, eyes blinking up at him as he fucks your mouth. his hand slides through your hair and gives it a slight tug to control his thrust.
"ah, shit." he grunts, head tilting back exposing his sharp jaw and neck. you whimper at the sight, feeling yourself getting even more soaked.
the whimper sends him groaning at the vibration against his sensitive cock and he doesn't like that. he looks down at you as he thrusts himself deeper into your mouth and makes you gag. "you love to ruin the moment, don't you?" he snarls with his deep voice, pulling out from your mouth.
you cough full of spit, tears running down your face. "sh-shane..m' sorâ"
he cuts you off with a hard slap on your cheek and cups your chin roughly after.
"quit apologizin' you stupid girl." he says, your cheek still stings and the tears still flowing but you look up at him so sweet like a good girl that his dick twitch painfully.
"fuck, bambi. look at what you do to me." he growls and manhandles you without a second thought, pulling you up to stand on your wobbly feet then bending you over against the nearby tree.
he quickly hikes your dress up to your waist and pulls your soaked panties to the side before he pushes deep inside your sweet tight pussy.
you let out a broken moan as he bottoms out hard that it nearly taking your breath away. his big hands squeeze your hips tight as his body trapping you from behind, keeping up with the punishing pace he always gives you.
"this what you want, huh?" he mutters behind you. "yeah, no shit. you always come back here 'cause no boys ever fuck you like i do, that it?"
he is so full of himselfâso are you right nowâbut he's not wrong though, shane is different kind of thing you prefer to call forbidden. a sweet forbidden sin you'd rather keep to yourself.
your hips start to twitch and you brace yourself against the tree as your knees give out. "shane..."
"fuck-hey, hey." he pulls you up to his chest as you almost fall to the ground, still thrusting into you until you reach your climax with a shuddered whine.
it crashes down on him so fast that he almost spills inside of you, hell christ above knows he wants it but he doesn't want anymore trouble coming into his life.
cw: cockwarming, slight biting, choking, kinda mean!shane, age gap.
[part 1] [part 2] [masterlist]
shane has you perched in his lap, straddling those thick thighs in the dim light of his tent while he's fully deep inside you with his big arms wraps around your body.
his face buried into your neck as he grunts when he fills you up so deep. "my good girl ain't that right, bambi?" he whispers into your ear, voice deep and full of lust. "fuckin' perfect."
"here you are letting me do anythin' i want..." his hands printed on your thighs, squeezing them hard enough that you wince.
"shane..h-hurts." you whimper as everytime you shift, you can feel his thick length inside of your walls.
"c'mon, you're my good girl bambi. you take it right, yeah?" he tuts, one hand sliding up to your chin to make you look at him. "are you my good girl?"
you can only whimper and nod. he looks at you in disappointment and clicks his tongue.
"you can do better than that." he demands and you breathe heavy. "m' your good girl, shane."
shane smirks and brings his hand down to your throat. your body shivers at that, making you squirm in his lap.
"shh, shh. easy easy," he groans as he feels your walls clenching around him. "stop squirmin'." his hand on your throat tightens.
your eyes roll back as your head falls to his shoulder, hands reaching out blindly for his, scratching the skin of his arm.
"shit-ffuck. you ain't helping," he grunts as he feels your hips twitch. "alright, alright." his thumb comes down to touch your clit and circle it lightly that your head might explode.
"shane-shane, shaneâoh!" your hips buck uncontrollably as you come, biting his neck as your cries muffled against it.
"jesusâfuck! the hell is wrong with you?" he snaps and jerks his head away from you while you're still shaking in his lap.
he thrusts his cock up roughly to punish you, chasing his own release. you whimper and wince, holding onto his arms as he keeps the punishing pace.
"s-shane.." you cry but he doesn't care, he keeps pounding into you until he lets out a harsh breath, grunting and panting. "fuck bambi, you're squeezin' me." he groans and pulls out, letting his cum covers your thighs.
"im sorry.." you start blabbering, feeling high in the cloud nine. he doesn't mind you, still trying to compose himself before shoving you off his lap as he stands up and puts his pants back on, then rubbing his face hard like the regret always comes back to him after such thing.
he's too old for you, damnit. and yet here you are always coming back to him.
"clean up then leave." he tosses one of his shirts at you to clean yourself before grabbing his rifle and walking out of the tent.
description: you and shane have come to an understanding after many years of friendship and few romantic attachments: offer each other release without all the complications that real feelings bring. yeah, âcause that kind of thing has a history of working out.
warnings: 18+ mdni, not canon-compliant, canon-typical violence, author has not seen untamed but is somewhat aware of the plot (thx tiktok edits and online blogs), explicit sexual content: unprotected vaginal penetration (but stay safe, guys!), creampie, vaginal fingering, oral [m!receiving], dom/sub undertones, semi-public sex, praise kink, shane puts reader into a headlock during sex cuz thatâs my dream!; (appropriate) use of firearms, alcohol consumption, jealousy, swearing, no gendered pronouns for reader, terms of endearment for reader [baby, sweetheart]
authorâs notes: are they lovers? yes and worse! this gifset of shane honestly changed my life. thank you gifmakers for your service! and to quote my reblog, in which i quoted a line from scary movie 4, âi need to be in a room with him in which there are no othersâ anyways, i do have a 2nd part in mind, but idk when iâll finish that, although feedback and reblogs are always vv encouraging & appreciated!! also running out of ideas for the smut, so if youâve got any suggestions, feel free to lmk :)
In and out for the little moments
But the moments, they last a while
In and out for the little moments (Little moments)
I wanna make you so proud (Proud)
Proud (Proud)
â Cece Natalie, âSo proudâ
Heâs inside you before you know it.
The stretch of Shaneâs dick splitting your insides open burns more than usual tonight, what with little foreplay he offered you, which typically means heâs had a rough day. Or, heâs seen Kyle Turner, though the two have come to be synonymous these days. Whichever it is, it mustâve been really bad for him to stay dead silent on you, save for a few short, quiet grunts behind you.
Although Shane has never had the patience of a saint when it came to you, it was still admittedly startling when he wasted no time in shucking off your bottoms and underwear in one go earlier, thick calloused fingers diving straight through your folds. Luckily for him, you get wet embarrassingly fast under his touch, even with the current lack of care that guided his movements.
You donât really want to think about why that is while heâs burying his cock inside you like he hates you.
In your daze, teary eyes squeezed shut, you vaguely feel the pressure of his arm as he curls it under and around your neck. The unwavering punch of his tip against the spot you like nearly makes you miss the way he begins to squeeze the air out of your throatâas if you already didnât have a hard time breathing as is. But even as angry as he must be, Shane is mindful about his strength, keeping his grip on you just loose enough to where you wonât pass out. Without realizing it, your hands have clung onto his wide biceps as he fucks you further into your soft, squeaky mattress.
In your daze, teary eyes squeezed shut, you vaguely feel the pressure of his arm as he curls it under and around your neck. The unwavering punch of his tip against the spot you like nearly makes you miss the way he begins to squeeze the air out of your throatâas if you already didnât have a hard time breathing as is. But even as angry as he must be, Shane is mindful about his strength, keeping his grip on you just loose enough to where you wonât pass out. Without realizing it, your hands have clung onto his wide biceps as he fucks you further into your soft, squeaky mattress.
You have a tear-stained cheek pressed against one bicep, the hairs on his skin collecting a few of the escaping droplets. Your nose is buried into the crook of Shaneâs elbow, where you can smell the musk of his sweat, along with the remnants of dirt, grime, and the woodsy outdoors that have clung onto him throughout the day. On any other man, it would have been gross and unpleasant. On Shane, itâs unfortunately intoxicating.
You donât remember coming the first time.
The entirely obscene squelch of your slick combined with Shaneâs precum, you can barely hear over the rush of blood in your ears and Shaneâs labored breaths. Youâre not even sure if the sharp-sounding âfuckâ you heard from him was real, or if itâs just your mind filling in a void with things youâre used to hearing during these moonlit trysts.
The warm, familiar wave of your next orgasm starts to take over, Shaneâs thick cock and fingers guiding you through the curve of pleasure, continuing their work beyond its peak. Your entire body squirms in his hold, tensing at the overload of sensation as his thrusts lose their tight rhythm. Despite that, Shane still manages to quicken his pace even more until he lets out a final groan into your ear. His seed floods your walls, fluttering muscles sucking him dry like they know the routine by now.
You suck in a sharp gasp of air into your lungs as his headlock finally loosens around you, becoming something more gentle as he turns you both onto your sides. You donât make a sound of protest even though you already miss the weight of his chest on your back.
âSo proud of ya, baby.â Shane groans softly into the back of your neck. âTight cuntâs always so good to me.â
And just like clockwork, you keen.
Still high off your climax, you slip into a half-conscious, post-coital fog where youâre vaguely aware that Shaneâs dick is still sitting inside you. Youâre also aware enough to be a little surprised by it because he doesnât usually stay past quickly but efficiently wiping his cum and sweat off of you with a damp washcloth he finds in your bathroom. But maybe you arenât aware enough to tell the difference between sixty seconds and ten minutes.
Either way, Shane slips out of you, and the dip in the bed becomes shallower. A few moments later, a damp washcloth is between your legs, gently cleaning the mess that he made.
Thereâs a faint tap at your bare hip. âYou should go piss.â
You make a muffled sound at that that most cannot discern as agreement, acknowledgment, or refusal.
Regardless of your friends with benefits status, you and Shane have upheld the âfriendsâ end that many seem to forget altogether because of the way these arrangements tend to get ugly fast at the first sign of feelings. Over the course of your friendship, he has learned the language of your indiscriminate sounds. This one meant Iâll go later, but later is actually never because Iâm falling asleep.
You donât think about how caring it is that he helps you to the toilet before the Sandman sends you off, not until the next morning and heâs already long gone.
You donât expect anything from Shane.
Itâs why you donât mind when you watch him shamelessly flirt with the most gorgeous person youâve ever laid your eyes on across the bar; a tall, dark-skinned woman who looks unbelievably soft underneath her minidress, which is likely worth more than your monthly salary. Itâs the kind of dress that doesnât belong in a bar on the kind of woman who belongs on a runway in Paris, walking for Chanel.
âTen bucks, he strikes out.â
You turn around to see Ryan Fielding getting settled onto the stool beside yours, his broad frame dwarfing the tiny seat. âShould you be betting on customers?â you ask, expression entirely unimpressed by the prospect.
He offers you a simple shrug. âIâm on my fifteen.â
âWell, then, Iâm not making a bet with you Iâm sure to lose.â
âOuch.â He mock winces at you. âNo faith at all? Thought you two were friends.â
âItâs because weâre friends that I know heâll strike out.â You snort, taking a small sip of your cheap beer. âThat woman looks like Anok Yai, and both are way out of his league. Big time.â
âIâm gonna pretend like I know who that is and agree.â
You let out a gasp, twisting your torso around to face him, totally appalled. âYou donât know who Anok Yai is? The model? God, I forget you guys live under a rock here.â
Ryan holds up his hands in defense. âHey, I got enough on my plate, tending to lovesick fools, shit flirts, and drunk assholes. I donât have the time to be keeping up with fashion or whatever.â
Before you can inquire further about who the âlovesick foolsâ in question are, Shane approaches from the other end of the barâbeautiful woman now notably absentâa dripping beer bottle clutched in his fingers. He doesnât say a word when he takes a seat next to you, tipping the lip of the bottle to his mouth.
Your head tilts to the side. âI take it, no home run?â
âI was just giving her directions.â
You canât resist a snicker. âThatâs what men say when theyâre fishing for a number.â
âThatâs true.â On your right, Ryan nods adamantly.
Shane only smirks, shaking his head with amusement. âShe was just looking for directions to the nearest hotel.â
âYou direct her to your tent?â You chuckle, flagging the bartender down for another beer.
An unladylike snort leaves Ryanâs mouth behind you while Shane holds onto his easy smile. âNo. Only if she asked, but I doubt that kinda woman would be able to fully appreciate it anyway.â
You hate that you want to ask what kind would.
The thought plagues you even as Shane pushes you down on your knees by your shoulders in the cramped bathroom stall, forcing his flushed cock through the seam of your wet lips. You try to ignore the hard press of dirty tile against your knees, hoping you could magically will away bruises. Itâs a miracle you both even manage to fit in the tiny amount of space there is in front of the toilet. Itâs a good time to not be claustrophobic.
âBreathe, baby,â he reminds you quietly, bringing you out of your thoughts, a large palm supporting the back of your head.
Your eyes flutter, lashes already coated with tears as you try to inhale through your nose. Itâs been a minute since youâve blown Shane, since youâve felt the tip of his dick sit uncomfortably at the back of your throat. He curses lowly when the warm muscles involuntarily close up around the girth of him.
âGonna make me blow my load early if you keep doinâ that.â He holds your head still, hips beginning to thrust steadily into the warm of your mouth. âShit, thatâs it.â
Your hands rest at the back of his calves, holding tightly onto the rough denim of his dark-wash jeans. Your eyes close as you lose yourself in overwhelming sensation of him fucking your mouth.
The hand not on your head taps your puffed out cheek, trying to guide your attention back. âEyes on me, baby.â
Shane comes down your throat the second you finally meet his dark brown gaze with tear-glazed eyes.
âTake my cock so well,â he murmurs, pulling your mouth off of him. Shane wipes up the drool and cum thatâs accumulated around your mouth and chin with one hand, the other brushing away stray tears. âSo proud of you.â
Rarely do you get to spend your mornings waking up to the woods surrounding Shaneâs tent. Even before you started sleeping with the wilderness management officer, youâve stayed over in his beloved, quaint shelter a number of times. Itâs nice to be able to get away once in awhile, to be reminded that things outside of the Internet and giant skyscrapers exist. That not all things are manmade, but some are just born, especially the most beautiful of things.
Like the war raging on in the early morning sky, bleeding reds and oranges washing away into the deep blue ocean. Shane was an early riser through and through, something the Army and rangers beat into him, but you managed to sneak off and snag the view all to yourself this morning.
Though thatâs partly due to being unable to sleep well on Shaneâs stiff cot. No matter how you twisted and turned that night, the damned thing dug into your shoulders, sides, your back, and your patience. At some point, you pulled your phone out of its charger and began scrolling through an ebook you had downloaded months ago. When that lost its novelty, you began cleaning out your camera roll because that was a task long overdue. And when you quickly grew bored of that, you eventually managed to get a few moments of shuteye while Shane snored the whole night away next to you. It was maddening. You were jealous.
But now, you get to see a dawn worth thousands of LA mornings. The cityâs skyline wasnât anything to write home about, wouldnât steal your breath away like an early morning in Yosemite could. It could never be so quiet either. Not just literally, but rather, in the way a soul could be; settled, without a voice pulling you in every which direction, demanding everything of you. A life out here feels simple, unburdened, and it makes you understand more what Shane preaches on to you about.
âDidnât I tell you not to go wanderinâ off without me?â
Shane always sounds grumpy in the morning. You think it might be a side effect of being a chronic asshole. Thereâs a hint of worry underlining his tone that amuses you.
âDidnât go that far.â You donât bother to turn your head around, revealing to him a can of bear spray and one of his pistols waiting patiently at your side. âAnd you looked so cozy, sleeping like a pretty princess. Snored like one too.â
âYou even know how to use that thing?â he asks with a quiet grunt, taking a seat next to you on the picnic blanket you have laid out on the hill.
âLearned from the best, didnât I?â
Shane rolls his eyes. âSure did.â
You watch the sunrise together in silence, the night blues growing lighter by the minute. Birds chirp all around, high up in the trees. While youâd find it incredibly bothersome in the city, here the high-pitched calls sound like they belong. Much like Shaneâs soft, relaxed breaths.
Another ten minutes and the night will be fully settled in its bed for the day.
âDoes it ever get old?â you murmur, staring into the burning sun ahead, fluffy clouds shielding it like armor.
âNot for me, it doesnât.â
Only then do you glance at him, rotating your head just enough to make out his profile. Heâs still looking where you just were, brown velvet eyes appearing as soft as youâve ever seen them. Shane always get that look when he talks about the great outdoors, like nature can soften out all the rough of edges of man instead of sharpening them more.
âI wish I could agree.â
You donât blink twice when a cute guy offers you his number, scrawled out pretty on a small cafe napkin.
Granted, itâs a little old-school, but maybe thatâs why youâre even considering dialing itâor maybe you should text first? God, you donât go on a date in a few years, and it already feels like you forgot protocol. You stare at the napkin square sitting on the table in front of you like some kind of omen.
Shane plops down onto the seat across from yours, startling you. He takes one sip of his black coffee, glancing down. âWhatâs that?â
You shrug, fingertips brushing the soft napkin. âSome guy slipped me his number.â
He hums. âYou gonna use it?â
âJuryâs still out on that one. He was cute. It might be fun.â
âYour hesitance seems like enough of an answer.â
âWhat, like you just jump at the prospect of a date with every girl that shows interest?â You scoff, stirring your drink around in its cup. âIâm just keeping an open-mind before I go back. Maybe heâs not interested in something long-term either. Huh, I wonder if the dating scene here is anything like it is in LA.â
âI wouldnât know.â The chair under him creaks as he leans back, mouth pressing into a fine line.
âCan you believe summer is almost over already? Jeez, it feels like every time I come back, it gets shorter. Wasnât like that when I lived here. Summers used to feel like a million years.â
Shane huffs. âI remember your complaining.â
Your face splits into a teasing, toothy grin. âHey, I know you miss me now that Iâve moved away. You somehow still barely have any friends besides me.â
He just shrugs, despite your insult. âI donât need other friends.â
âWell, thatâs nice, but Iâugh, Jesus, whatâs he doing here?â
Kyle Turner steps through the cafeâs door, heading to the counter to order a coffee.
While you donât have any reason to be bothered by the ISB agentâs presence, heâs harassed Shane enough to make it your problem. Sure, your friend isnât the nicest guy around town, but Turnerâs issue with him runs deeper than legal. And as much of a shithead Shane is, you were livid when Kyle stuck a gun to his chin for no better reason than his own anger and pride. You had quickly shoved Kyle away from Shane with all your strength, nearly screaming your head off at the older man while Shane tugged you away, his bloody, shit-eating grin softening out at your worry.
If Shane was good at anything, it was stoking a flame into a wildfire. But beneath all that sarcasm and arrogance is a good man, as jaded as he may be. Thatâs a fact you know as well as breathing. Ryan had been wrong when he said you had no faith in Shane. You mightâve had too much.
âMaybe we should head out,â you suggest, trying to finish your drink in a single swig.
He pays Kyle no mind, still settled into his chair like he belongs there. âWhy? I havenât done anything.â
Your lips curl into a frown, your free hand clenched on your knee. âI donât need him blowing your head off, Shane.â
âYou worried about me, baby?â His mouth forms a smirk, and the sight makes your stomach flip annoyingly.
âWith how seriously you take your life?â You scoff and glare at the back of Kyle Turnerâs head. âYeah, fuckinâ obviously.â
You stand abruptly, fingers tugging the hem of Shaneâs flannel sleeve, dragging him out of the cafe. The napkin with the cute guyâs number goes forgotten at the table.
You remember the first time you felt the weight of a gun in your hands.
Deceptively heavier than it appears, holding a pistol feels like carrying the weight of the world between your fingers. And for some, thatâs what it meant. Life or death. The world or the unknown. Everything or nothing. Itâs a side you choose: to be on one end of the barrel or the other. And you should pray to not be the one staring it down.
Being ex-military means Shane has had much practice with that. Means he always knows which side heâs on.
Shane had pressed the small firearm into your hands with thinly-veiled amusement before adjusting his camouflage hat and perching a hand on his hip. He pointed to a set of beer cans he set up across the field. âNow, all you gotta do is hit those targets over there.â
You glanced between him and the empty beer cans that stood mockingly with an unimpressed look. âShane, this feels like a humiliation ritual.â
He tsked, shaking his head. âItâs easy.â He took the pistol from you, quickly firing a clean shot into one of the metal cans, making it explode into bits.
The sudden, loud sound of the bullet piercing through the quiet, woody air made you cringe. He pushed the gun back into your grasp, staring at you expectantly.
âThat was a terrible demonstration,â you said, holding the gun uselessly at your side. âYou just wanna laugh at my expense.â
âSweetheart, I already do that every day.â He smirked, stepping behind you.
You rolled your eyes at him, opening your mouth to spit out a retort, only for it to die right on your tongue when Shane all but presses his chest to your back, wrapping his arms around you to help you grip the pistol properly, lining up your shot for you. It felt like cheating, but you could hardly find the will to care when his hot breath blew on the back of your ear as he guided you through the steps. Only Shane could make his charity sound so patronizing.
âYou breathinâ?â
âYes,â you said quickly, very indignantly despite the obvious sharp intake of breath that you do.
You deserved praise for how steady you kept your hands when your teacher was being much more of a distraction than anything remotely helpful.
Shane let go, taking a step back. âTake the shot.â
The beer can fell before you even realized you had pulled the trigger.
You released a breath you didnât know you were holding in, eyes hurriedly darting to Shaneâs for approval.
âSee? Easy.â
Although you only end up making the rest of your shots with varying degrees of success, the faint traces of a proud look on Shaneâs face were worth all the humiliation.
Youâd like to think you know which side of the barrel youâd be on, too.
The California sun beats down even through all the natural shade the trees in the park provide, the temperature going on near unbearable with this weekâs forecasted heatwave.
Itâs days like these that role of Shane and the other park rangers becomes even more crucial. Because people are stupid. Little kids donât know better when they see a cute bug crawling across a log a couple steps from the path. Animals get just as agitated from the heat as humans do.
Itâs not unusual for Shane to let you shadow him while he takes care of some of his lighter ranger duties, things the average civilian can handle tagging along for. Now, is he technically allowed to do this? The answer happens to not be yes. But lucky for you, you know when to shut up and let him do his job. You know when and when not to be a distracting friend.
But today isnât a usual day, and you decided that rather than lounge around at your parentsâ house all day, you would try to be a bona fide adult and do the recommended hour of physical activity. Which is how you ended up following Shane around for the last fifteen minutes, already sweating up a storm in spite of the early hour.
When there is a heatwave, it is often recommended to not stay outside for too long because of how fast it could get dangerous. Heatstrokes are no joke. But you donât intend to stay for more than an hour, not including the walk back to civilization, which youâve learned to recognize like the back of your hand over the years of being Shaneâs friend. You do actually listen whenever he drops his unsolicited survival tips the same way your aunt says youâd get a boyfriend if only you worked on your looks more.
The only way you got Shane to agree to let you join him this morning is on the condition that if anything serious is called in, heâll leave to deal with it while you head back around the way you came.
âAnything interesting happen before I got here?â you ask Shane, gravel crunching under your hiking shoes.
He stays in step beside you, twisting his cap backwards, tufts of greying dark blond sticking out the hole in a rather attractive way. âNah, just had a couple of German tourists looking for a bathroom. And I had to shoo off some deer away from a group of hikers.â
âExhilarating.â
âBetter that than a missing person,â he says, shrugging.
You hum a form of agreement, taking in your surroundings. The wind has started to pick up a bit, allowing you a little bit of reprieve with some airflow that feels like a luxury on your heated skin. Pulling a water bottle from your backpack, you take a long drink to cool your insides before tipping it in Shaneâs direction. He accepts the offer, fingers brushing against yours when they wrap around the bottle. He takes a short sip of water, slipping it back into your bagâs side pocket for you.
The vastness of Yosemite National Park never fails to steal your breath from you. Itâs mostly just a bunch of green in front of you as far as the eye can see, but you know that there are mountains in the distance somewhere. The air is grossly hot but still fresher than the air in most of the zip codes that make up LA County. But Yosemite is much like its own universe, yet to be fully explored because of just how expansive its territory spreads. Thatâs why itâs so easy to get lost in its unforgiving depths. It continues to amaze you that Shane doesnât find any bit of it frightening, managing to live all by his lonesome in the middle of it. Few things seem to scare him, you think.
âYou ever think about moving back to real human civilization?â
âNope.â
Your mouth forms a tiny smile, gently knocking your shoulder against his. âJust you and the trees then?â
âYouâre there sometimes, too.â
âYeah, for like four out of the fifty-two weeks in a year. What about the other forty-eight? I canât grace you with my presence all the time, especially not if you ever wanna find a partner.â
âA partner?â
âA significant other, your other half,â you clarify teasingly.
He frowns like the thought of finding someone has never once crossed his mind. âWhat for?â
You scoff, the toe of your shoe kicking some pebbles forward. âWhat do you mean âwhat forâ? Is your plan to really die alone out here drinking shitty canned beer?â
âI ainât really got a plan,â Shane admits, scratching his stubbled jaw. âBut it wouldnât be the worst way to go.â
Even though youâre the one who started digging this hole in the first place, youâre not sure you want to press any further, fearing that the answer to your question is one you wonât enjoy the taste of. Maybe he wonât ever settle down. Itâs not his style. Maybe he will, just doesnât want to with you. Youâre not the type worth changing his style. Truth has always been the most bitter pill to swallow.
âWhatâs the look for?â
âWhat look?â
âThat look.â
âThatâs my face.â
âItâs not,â he insists. âYou look like a constipated raccoon.â
You stare at him incredulously. âHave you actually ever seen that?â
âNo, but Iâm imagininâ itâs pretty similar to the look on your face right now.â
âYou ass.â You scoff with indignation, shoving him to the side as you try to restrain the smile.
Shane grins, holding his hands up in mock surrender. âIâm just tellinâ it like it is.â
âWell, tell yourself to shut up.â
He slings his arm around you, pulling you in closer. âOnly if you say âpretty please.ââ
âIâm not begging for a damn thing.â
âOh, but you do it real good,â he whispers lowly, his warm breath ghosting your ear.
With as much will as you can muster, you hold back a shiver, knowing you wouldnât be able to blame the cold. As you continue down the trail together, your brain runs a million miles a second trying to stitch together a response thatâll embarrass you the least.
Lucky for you that you both spot a little kid just ahead, looking incredibly lost and like a great distraction from your inability to take some of Shaneâs teasing in this cursed heat.
The boy looks no older than six, teary eyes darting around the woods, unable to recognize anything resembling his parents anywhere in the brush. Shane immediately goes into responsible ranger mode, peeling himself from your side to crouch in front of the distraught child in less than an instant.
âHey, buddy,â Shane says as softly as his gruff voice allows. âWhere are your parents?â
The boy sniffles with his entire little body, tears mixing with his snot. âI dunno. I want my daddy.â
You stop in front of him, crouching down to his level like Shane with a gentle, comforting smile. Itâs then that you notice a scrape along his left knee, the small injury still bleeding a little. âWeâll help you find your daddy then. Whatâs your name?â
âBen,â the kid chokes.
Shane asks with a small smile, âHow old are you, Ben?â
âAlmost s-six.â Ben holds up six small fingers as a visual aid.
You laugh, voice coated in a tone of disbelief. âSix? Wow, I thought you mustâve been ten! Youâre so big!â
The brunet boy smiles wide, shaking his head. âNot yet!â
On your left, Shane calls in the lost kid youâve found on his radio, trying to see if the boy had already been reported missing. He has not, which hopefully means his dad has only just lost him and is still within the area.
While heâs still on walkie with another ranger, you lead Ben over to a wooden log a few feet away, getting him to sit down while you fish out your first-aid kit.
âWhat happened here?â you ask, pointing to his knee.
âI fell.â He points in the direction you came from.
âDid it hurt?â
He nods. âIt hurt a lot.â
You hum, trying to carefully brush away the rest of the dirt and rock still stuck to his tanned skin. âWell, Iâm gonna clean it up and make it better for you, okay? But it might sting a bit.â
You reach into the kit for some disinfectant and wipes, giving Ben another warning right before you start to thoroughly clean his wound. He winces at the burning sensation, hands braced on the log, but takes it better than expected for a kid his age.
âYou remember what you saw earlier when you were with your daddy?â asks Shane behind you, perhaps trying to distract him from the pain.
âUh⊠we saw water.â Ben throws his arms out suddenly, nearly startling you. âLots of water! Up in the mountain. It went woosh.â Another visual reference: his hands fly down fast, presumably mimicking the movement of the water.
Shane tilts his head curiously. âLike a waterfall?â
âYeah, waterfall!â
âAlmost done.â You smile, rubbing some antibiotic ointment over the scrapes before tearing open a large bandaid to cover his knee. Carefully, you adhere it to his skin. âFeel better?â
Ben nods enthusiastically. âThank you!â
âYouâre welcome, buddy.â You chuckle, packing away your kit. âIf your dad is okay with it, Iâll buy you an ice cream cone later for being so strong. You like ice cream?â
âUh-huh!â
Shane lets out a short, amused sound behind your shoulder. âNobodyâs called anything in yet, but I think I know the waterfall he was talkinâ about. Ainât too far from here. We can walk over and see if the fatherâs retraced his steps.â
âSounds like a plan, Ranger Rick,â you say, coming to stand at your full height. You hold your hand out to the boy, clasping it with his when he accepts it. âCâmon, letâs go find your dad.â
After ten minutes of walking, the three of you hear the roaring rush of water before you see it. Through a couple of thick trees, you find a small, breathtaking lake at the bottom of the waterfall. But unfortunately, Ben doesnât recognize any of the sightseers wandering around.
After twenty minutes of walking, you hear a soft little yawn escape past the little boyâs mouth next to you, making you chuckle. âYou sleepy?â
Ben rubs his eye with his other hand, nodding. He lets out another longer yawn.
Shane hands you his pack and crouches down suddenly, gesturing with a nod of his head for the boy to climb onto his back. âHop on, kid. Iâll carry you back âtil we can locate your dad.â
You watch the park ranger hoist up the child on his back, Shaneâs large forearms supporting the back of Benâs knees. The sight is almost cruelly domestic, reminding you of an impossible fantasy that lives quietly in the back of your head, accosting you with its pathetic presence once in a blue moon.
The gesture is surprisingly sweet for a guy like Shane, who you sometimes think forgets how to interact with actual human people after living such a secluded lifestyle. But more likely, his selective bedside manners is a choice, one of the reasons he prefers his way of living in the first place.
Bears are easier than people, he once told you.
Everything is easier than people, you retorted then. And youâre impossible.
Itâs not even half past eight yet when you return to the entrance of the hiking trail, even with the amount of stalling that happened because Ben kept pointing his finger around and asking Shane questions about the wildlife.
You know deer can jump up to ten feet in the air? People can only jump about a foot.
If you ever spot a bear âround here, itâs gonna be a black bear. All the grizzlies died out about a hundred years ago, and the brown bears havenât adapted to Yosemite as well as the black bears did.
Most of the parkâs black bears are actually brown.
You had also been a little surprised by Shaneâs willingness to entertain the kid until he fell asleep about ten minutes back, leaving the two of you in silence. Shane had not much patience when it came to people. (Ironic for a man in a customer service adjacent profession.) And he never seemed very chirpy around little children either, as far as you knew. He had a couple of younger cousins heâd complain to you about whenever he was forced to attend a family reunion, deeming them nuisances despite being totally glued to their devices.
Neither of you dared to speak until the radio strapped to his hip hissed to life, a crackly womanâs voice requesting for him. Since his hands were busy, you unclipped the walkie-talkie from his side, holding it up to his mouth for him to reply. It had been good news: the father wasnât that far from your position and would reach you any minute now.
âYou look so⊠fatherly,â you muse aloud, looking at the way Benâs little cheek is propped against Shaneâs shoulder.
Shane huffs, giving you the look of a man unamused.
You shrug. âWhat? Itâs cute. The people love a single dad.â
âWell, I ainât a single dad.â
âI mean, I could get a picture right now for your Tinder profile,â you tease, pulling out your phone camera.
You snap a few pictures of the tall ranger giving the boy a piggyback ride, wearing the most unenthused expression one could possibly come up with. How utterly lame, you pout. You donât think Benâs dad will mind. At least, you hope not. Benâs face is hidden in the crook of Shaneâs neck anyways, and itâs not like you intend for the photos to live anywhere but in your camera roll.
âOh, thank God!â
You turn around to see one of the hottest men to ever grace the earth heading your direction. Thatâs Benâs dad?
His salt and pepper hair is tousled rather fashionably, like despite the number of times heâs worried his tanned fingers through the waves, it stubbornly couldnât look anything shy of perfect.
His cries make Ben blink awake, who lights up at the sight of his father. âDaddy!â he exclaims, moving off Shaneâs back and into the manâs arms where he belongs.
âYou canât just wander off like that, Benny. How many times have I told you?â He hugs his kid tighter, pulling Benâs face into his shoulder with a ringless left hand. (Ugh, what the hellâs wrong with you?) âOh, God, Iâm just glad youâre safe.â
After a few moments, Mr. Single Dad finally acknowledges you and Shane, thanking you both profusely.
The dirty blond park ranger only smiles politely, lifting his camouflage hat to smooth down his sweat-soaked hair. âJust doinâ my job, sir. It happens more than youâd think, but make sure you keep a better eye on âem next time.â
âAnd I was just trying to be a good Samaritan,â you say, waving off his kind words. âHe seems like a good kid. Oh, and make sure to put something on that scrape on his knee. It wasnât too nasty, but I put some cream on it, so hopefully it heals over faster.â
âThatâs very kind of you. I canât thank either of you enough for taking care of my boy.â
âUm, I promised Ben an ice cream cone after I patched up his knee.â You fish out a five dollar bill from your wallet, adding quickly as you offer it to the man, âIf thatâs alright! He took the disinfectant like a champ, so I just wanted to treat him a little.â
âYay, ice cream!â Ben swipes the money from your fingers and cheers.
The older man flashes you a swoon-worthy smile, making a soft suggestion, âHow about I treat you to dinner tonight? To say thanks.â
You think you and Shane both make the same strangled noise at the proposition and its glaring innuendo.
âOh! Um, sorry, that was⊠unexpected,â you stammer, itching the back of your neck. âIââ
âI hope you donât mind my being forward.â
You suck in a breath, pulling out an awkward smile. âNo, no, not at all.â
Shane makes some kind of disgruntled huff next to you.
Hot Dadâs (You donât even know his name!) attention returns to Shane, bouncing between the two of you with a flicker of realization. âOh, sorry, are you twoâŠ?â
You shake your head adamantly, feeling your insides shake as well. âNo, weâre not⊠But um, I appreciate the offer, itâs justâIâm not really looking toâŠâ
âOh, well thatâs a shame.â He gives you a dejected (but still awfully sexy) smile, nodding his head in understanding. âYouâre very beautiful.â
âTh-thanks, you too.â
Oh, my God, you need to die.
âThanks, you tooâ?
âYou tooâ?!
You can feel the mortification burst into flames up your back, through your neck, and to the rest of your body.
He chuckles more kindly than youâd expect, and Ben and his hot dad are gone the next time you blink.
You swallow thickly, turning your head to look at Shane, who you can tell is doing his real best to not howl. âOh, my God, I need to die.â
Mercifully, he snorts instead, crossing his arms over his chest. âSeems like the cute kid didnât help after all.â
âIâm⊠different.â
âThatâs for sure.â
You wake up with a lingering hangover and a heavy heart.
Another summer in Yosemite is quickly coming to a close. And while you should be expecting it each year with the way it lives on your calendar, it still only hits you when youâve got less than a couple days before youâre hopping on a plane back home to Los Angeles. Back to a criminally expensive apartment with a great roommate but whoâs unfortunately not Shane-shaped.
Truthfully, you never miss all that much about Yosemite. Sure, the air quality is astronomically better up north, but youâve still got air back home. You will miss the clear skies, where the twinkling stars arenât hidden away behind smog and pollution. You wonât miss the millions of bugs, the hundreds of mosquito bites you accumulate like a loyalty stamp card without any of the benefits. You will miss the ex-Army ranger you call a best friend, whose dark blond hair is greying beautifully when youâre back in the city.
Is it bad to say you sometimes miss him more than your own parents? Itâs just, with Shaneâs more isolated way of living, he rarely has the signal to text, let alone call you. He tries when heâs in town, but even then, heâs busy managing the giant park he calls home; searching for idiot tourists who stray off the trails (which are marked for a reason!), helping crying, snotty kids find their parents after they wander off alone, scaring off snacky bears and thieving raccoonsâthe list goes on.
So yeah, you do miss Shane more than your parents who are always at the touch of the call icon.
You barely manage a few hookups whenever youâre back home, too busy to be seriously pursuing anyone and nearly too busy to even be horny. Your hand, ironically, becomes your best friend, but your touch is still nothing compared to Shaneâs. His fingers are longer and thicker than yours, almost enough to match the girth of his cock, always enough to make you come in record time.
And you will miss the rare days in which you get to wake up next him, curled up into his warmth like the rest of the world no longer exists, even if that stupid cot of his is your backâs sworn enemy. But in those short moments, your mind can pretend something itâs never openly voiced. You can pretend to be hisâin every sense of the wordânot just quietly, not his wrapped up in the intense moans of your pleasure, or his split by his merciless, fat cock. Itâs a fantasy you allow yourself to indulge in in those early morning hours, tucked away from the rest of humanity by the wilderness. The one place people where donât have to hide, or maybe, the only place they do.
Itâs not a fantasy you think he shares.
Shane Maguire has never struck you as the type of guy who settles down, even if he ever meets the girl of his dreams. That is, if he even had one in mind. Hell, itâs a miracle the guy even finds the time to piss during the summer months, when tourist traffic and stupidity are at an all-time high and his best friend/seasonal hookup is in town. The two of you are steadily, rapidly, pushing forty, and although you arenât in any rush to settle down either, the thought definitely keeps you up some nights.
It doesnât help either that you subconsciously compare every guy youâve dated or shown interest in to Shane in some way. You tell yourself itâs the thrill of sneaking around that keeps you coming back to him, not the ranger himself and his stupid wilderness facts and his taste for canned beer that tastes like motor oil and despair. Itâs just insanely attractive that he knows how to fire a gun with incredible accuracy, stealthily track the parkâs wildlife (and people), and survive off of just a couple of items in a tiny pack.
You feel the short buzz of your phone, which is currently laying MIA somewhere in your tangled sheets. You paw around for a minute, finding it hiding under one of your many pillows.
Ranger Rick sent you a message:
Your folks still home? Got any eggs?
You tap the text notification, typing quickly:
idk, just woke up. prob not. yes
Ranger Rick: Itâs 10
You: u say that like itâs supposed to mean smth to me
Ranger Rick: Be there in 15
Just like he said, Shane shows up at your door exactly fifteen minutes later (You suspect he was already on his way long before he bothered to text.), dressed in his usual casual attire: a tight, dark blue t-shirt and cargo pants.
He makes you eggs in your own house, navigating the kitchen with the kind of familiarity one has in their own home. Itâs a quiet morning, much like the ones you spend together in his tent. To not be completely useless, you pour two glasses of orange juice, but not without a long yawn that makes him glance at you.
âYou sleep enough last night?â
A quiet, grunt-like hum leaves you as you pull out the silverware drawer and grab two sets of forks and spoons.
No, but will have to make do.
Shane sets the plates of bacon and eggs down on the dining table while you very carefully pinch the two slices of toast from the toaster like youâre the surgeon in the very delicate game of Operation. Your impatience leads you to burn the tips of your fingers anyway, making you wish you actually had a pair of Operation tweezers.
He rolls his eyes at your wince, grabbing your wrist to guide your stinging fingers into his warm mouth, sucking gently. The sight is far more erotic than you can possibly handle on a Thursday morning, but you canât get yourself to look away either.
âShane,â you murmur warningly.
He pulls your thumb and finger from between his wet lips, smiling innocently at you like he ainât got a clue what heâs doing. âYeah?â
Your best friend crooks a finger around the thin strap of your tank top, teasing it over your bare shoulder enough to bare your breast. Hungry, brown eyes flicker down and soak in the sight of your hardening nipple. He licks his thumb, rolling the sensitive peak under the pad of his thumb, drawing quiet whines from your mouth.
He grins like a fox, wetting his lips. âLook at you, makinâ all these pretty noises for me.â
You keen like itâs a command.
Because heâs evil, Shane pinches the strap of the top between his fingertips, leisurely lifting the fabric back up your arm right where it belongs, as if it never left. You shuffle away with what little is left of your dignity, sitting down at the table to discover two small painkillers sitting next to your orange juice. You nearly forgot the headache youâd had since waking up after his little display.
The rest of breakfast is not so erotic.
When you both finish your meal, youâre quick to climb into Shaneâs lap like a cat, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses from his collarbone up to his sharp jawline. He wraps one arm around your back, hand supporting your side. The other dances along your thigh, fingers mindlessly rubbing across the smooth expanse of skin, just below the hem of your flimsy cotton shorts. You practically purr when they ghost teasingly over the fabric covering your slick heat, the tip of your nose brushing the column of his throat.
Without looking, Shaneâs mouth finds yours with incredible assured ease, the kind that is born out of the same familiarity that guides him through your kitchen like itâs his. You feel his demanding tongue prod your soft, sealed lips, parting them open to taste you. His kisses are light-headed, stupefying, and orange-flavored.
Few things top a lazy morning make out.
Calloused fingertips circle your clit through your shorts, the movements devastatingly unhurried. Despite the relaxed pace in which Shane works, you can already feel the growing wet spot seeping through the thin cotton. And so can he. He doesnât spare you the knowing smirk, the expression obvious against your mouth. He does spare you the teasing comment, likely too focused on kissing you as thoroughly as possible.
âWant me to make you come like this?â he breathes against your kiss-swollen lips. âOr does my pretty thing want more?â
Or not.
âMore,â you decide.
Granting your soft-spoken request, Shane crooks two fingers under the fabric of your shorts and tugs it to the side to reveal your aching cunt. âBarely done a thing, and itâs already weepinâ. All this for me, baby?â
Again, you purr.
Skilled fingers work you open, your folds parting easily for the thick digits. Your hips rock against them, and a long moan escapes your lips when theyâre finally seated fully inside you, curling against spots you can somehow never find with your own hands.
âBeing so good right now,â he praises you, quickening his ministrations. He even rewards you by rubbing your swelling clit faster. âProud of you, baby. So proud.â
Shane spends the whole morning finger fucking you until all your earlier sadness disappears out though your pleasured cries.
On your last day in town, you end up back at the bar for one last drink. The place is unusually slow at the moment, quiet even for a Monday evening. An R&B song plays in the background, too low for you to make out the words, but you know it sits somewhere in the back of your mind.
Youâve been sipping on a cocktail for the better part of an hour, some sugary concoction Ryan made on the house since youâre going back home. Although, you were going to treat yourself anyway after only consuming grossly cheap beer all summer because it had only mattered that you got to the point of a warm belly and loose limbs, not how. (And also because itâs all Shane drinks, wielding a similar depressing philosophy.)
Right now, youâre at the point where youâre unable to contain the bright giggles that keep escaping your lungs at whatever gossip Ryan is dropping to you. Slow nights are good for that. With all the downtime between customers, he can pretend heâs wiping down the bar when heâs really shit talking the regular sitting four seats over who never tips well, despite smelling like a brewery by the time he closes his tab.
Ryan stops right in the middle of his sentence, blue eyes scanning the establishment and then twice at the clock on the wall. âWhereâs your ranger?â
âI came here by myself.â
âWell, I can see that,ââthe bartender rolls his eyesââbut I figured heâd stop in to see you by now.â
You stir the ice in your drink around with your thin straw, mumbling, âWhy? Itâs not like weâre attached at the hip.â
âOh, but you so are.â Ryan wipes a stubborn spot of dirt on the brown countertop with his damp rag until itâs shiny.
âWell, weâre friends. Itâs not crazy that we spend so much time together.â
He tsks, muttering under his breath, ââFriendsâ, my ass.â
âNot this again,â you complain into your drink.
Pointing his dirty rag at you, he accuses, âEither you two are great liars, or youâre both fuckinâ clueless idiots. I mean that lovingly, babe. But thereâs something going on in whatever that is youâre calling a friendship. âCause youâre hot, but I donât eye fuck my friends.â
âThatâs absurdâŠâ
Youâve never told anyone before that you and Shane fuck sometimesâa lot of sometimes. Youâre not sure whether coming clean to Ryan will help your case or not, not when heâs sticking his finger around in a mess youâd much rather drink in a bottle. Your intention tonight wasnât to get shitfaced, but four drinks in, and that might change.
âWhy do you think you keep coming back?â
You frown at that, answering sarcastically, âWhat, canât I see my family?â
Ryan scoffs, pointing an accusatory finger at you. âPeople see their families during the holidays. Youâre here during the holidays and every summer, despite how inconvenient it is. Despite the fact that thereâs nothing here for you.â
âOkay, ouch.â
âExcept Shane,â he finishes pointedly. âYou may have grown up around Yosemite, but youâve also grown out of it. Grown out of everything here but Shane.â
You worry the meat of your cheek with your teeth, trying hard not to swallow the truth youâve never heard spoken out loud to you before. âCâmon, itâs my last night. Must you be so harsh?â
âBut itâs not your last night. You already moved away. Youâre the one who keeps coming back. Are you really happy just waiting around for him?â
âThereâs nothing to be waiting for.â
âYouâd be settled down now if you really believed that.â
The words cut through the alcohol in your system, quickly sobering you up as well as a cold shower. You dig through your pocket, dropping a nice tip on the bar counter.
âScrew you,â you mutter, pushing yourself off the seat. Clearly not sober enough, however, because youâre stumbling off the barstool when a strong hand steadies you, grip warm and firm.
Speak of the Devil, and he appears.
Shane looks at you, his thick eyebrows furrowed with traces of worry. He glances at Ryan, whoâs already disappeared to the other side of the bar to take care of another customer. âYou okay? Whatâd that shithead say?â
He only seems to have caught the tailwind of your conversation, thankfully. The rising panic that began bubbling settles in your throat.
âNothing,â you say quietly, swallowing thickly.
His grasp on your arm grows a bit tighter, igniting fire on your skin. âWhatâd that shithead say?â
âNothing,â you repeat, shaking your head. âReally, Shane.â
The look on his face tells you that he doesnât believe your words at all, but your own expression makes him drop it. For now. You donât need Shane getting into another bar fight, especially not over truths youâre afraid of, tucked away in your rib cage and holding your heart hostage.
Not on your last night in Yosemite.
And because youâre drunk, sad, and greedy, you let him touch you in the backseat of his truck, parked right in your parentsâ driveway. The lights of your childhood home are out at this hour, but the walls are too thin and your want too urgent. You get to moan a little louder for him out here as he drives the hard length of his cock up into you like he wants you to miss it while youâre gone. He doesnât have to. Youâll miss it anyway.
Not long after you both come and with your cheek laying on his breathless chest, you voice something like itâs an afterthought and not with all the weight itâs worth, âI think Iâm gonna stay in LA next summer.â
You pretend like it doesnât sting when he never asks why.
the metallic of his belt buckle hitting the floor makes your stomach flip. you're lying completely bare underneath shane, as your hands fidget against his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt nervously. your breath hitches as you hear the rustle of fabric - his pants sliding down his hips - and suddenly your heart is pounding in your ears. every nerve feels hypersensitive.
the air shifts as shaneâs weight settles more fully over you. his breath ghosts across your lips, uneven and warm, like heâs trying to steady himself too. his hands slide up your sides slowly, calloused palms tracing every curve like theyâre memorizing you.
shane looks at you - dark eyes softening the moment they met yours. he saw the nervous flutter in your chest, the way your fingers still gripped his shirt because of how fast things were moving. without a word, he brushed his thumb gently over your cheekbone before pressing a feather-light kiss to the corner of your mouth.
shane gave space without leaving completely - his other hand reaching out to tuck loose hair behind your ear.
"you okay?"
shane waited, his thumb still resting lightly against your cheek. the silence between you wasnât awkward, it was full of something softer and fragile. when you didnât answer right away - just kept breathing him in, heart thudding too loud for your own comfort, he smiled.
after you nodded nervously, shaneâs lips trailed down your throat. each one sent a shiver spiraling through you. then he paused just below your jaw, his breath warm against the sensitive spot where your neck met shoulder and asked again.
âare you sure you want this?â
his voice was low - laced with concern and restrained at the same time. his lips moved slowly down your throat - soft, warm kisses that made every nerve in your body tingle. each one sent a shiver through you. you could feel his breath as he spoke, his teeth grazing ever so lightly over your collarbone before placing another kiss just below it.
his hands stayed gentle: one resting at your waist while the other curled softly around yours, fingers intertwining. when shane finally lifted his head to look at you again - his eyes dark with want but still so tender.
shaneâs breath hitched the second you whispered "yes," it lit up something inside him.
his lips crashed back onto yours, starting soft, but the second you parted your mouth for him, he took it deeper. his upper lip pressed firmly against your bottom one as his tongue slipped forward to explore.
his hands moved everywhere at once: one cupping the side of your face to tilt you just right while the other roamed down your body - over shoulders, across ribs, squeezing gently at your waist.
at last, shane held your jaw again and made you look up at him. his thumb slowly grazed over your lip as he stared at your expression with half-lidded eyes. slowly, he separated your lips with his finger - you obliged and opened your mouth for him, wrapping your puffy lips around his thumb.
shane kept staring as he adjusted his posture and pressed the tip right at your entrance, gathering up all your slick and rubbing at your clit. you took a deep breath in as you felt your walls pulsing, face flushed, feeling vulnerable because he wasn't letting you look away.
"suck." shane whispered and slowly pushed his tip inside you. you whimpered at the stretch as you started to move your tongue around his finger.
you felt as he dragged the rest of his cock deeper in your cunt and it felt like an eternity has passed before he bottomed out. completely forgetting about the thumb, your mouth opened up against your will, eyes closing and feeling overwhelmingly full.
shane kept staring and staring at the way your expressions changed every second, he twitched at the sight of your face filled with pleasure. his thumb moved again and this time he pressed it down your tongue, spreading your own saliva around. he felt the way your walls squeezed at his actions and groaned roughly, jaw hanging down.
after a minute, shane had to snap out. he slowly dragged his cock backwards and slammed it back inside the you again, spreading your legs wider and reaching the deepest parts. you moaned out louder as tears prickled up at the corners of your eyes. he was big and overwhelming. shane continued thrusting in and out of you. you felt him pressing his pelvis hard against your clit each time he grinded.
shane's thumb left your mouth and reached your wrists, softly wrapping his large hands around them. "shane..." you moaned out, completely drunk off his touch as he pinned you down. he stared at you even longer - at the way your lips stayed slightly parted after that sound escaped, the flutter of your eyelashes as they shut tight from sensation, how your eyebrows pinched together just above them.
shaneâs cock slid in again - slow, steady. each thrust pushed deeper into warm, tight heat. his hips rolled, filling you completely, then pulling out before pushing back in again. your walls clenched around him instinctively - fluttering with every movement like they were trying to hold onto him even as he withdrew slightly. every time he entered again, the pulsing grew stronger and made his breath hitch each time.
"squeezing me so tight⊠fuck." shaneâs voice came out rough and raspy, strained with pleasure as he exhaled the words through gritted teeth. each deep, slow thrust sent waves of sensation through him. your walls kept fluttering around his cock - soft pulses that hugged every ridge and length.
his hips didnât speed up, still moving with that same heavy, slow rhythm. deep strokes that made the bed creak faintly beneath you. each time he pushed in, his pelvis pressed gently against yours, adding to the fullness. now his breathing had changed - low groans slipping out between kisses on your jaw and temple when he dipped down to them. your head lolled back against the pillow as a moans escaped you.
his arms were tense, muscles flexing as he braced himself slightly over you - supporting his body. every moan you made went straight through him. that breathy sounds you made lit something primal behind his eyes. he kissed your neck again between thrusts, open-mouthed and wet, nipping lightly at skin before soothing it with a swipe of tongue.
shaneâs gaze dropped - dark eyes tracing down your body until they landed on the subtle rise of your lower stomach right where his cock disappeared into you with each thrust. he could see the slight swelling, the soft movement as he pounded inside. without breaking the rhythm, shane lowered one hand and pressed it flat against your belly - fingers splayed wide over warm skin and gently pushed down as if trying to feel himself from outside.
"feel how deep I am?" his voice was low, thick with lust. shane kept his hand pressed there, feeling the faint movement beneath as he continued to thrust slowly. each time he pushed in deep, that subtle swell under his touch grew more pronounced. when he pulled back the dip returned. it was mesmerizing for him, watching himself move inside you felt so intimate and real.
"you take me so good, baby." shane leaned down closer, lips brushing your ear before whispering again. his voice curled around each word and made goosebumps rise on your arms.
inside, you felt completely stretched by shaneâs slow, deep rhythm. every time he pushed in, you felt a wave of warmth that spread through your core. your breath hitched with each thrust, your heart pounded from emotions. you felt desired in a way that made tears prickle behind closed eyes.
as shane kept moving, the tension in your body grew. walls clenched around him stronger than before. your whole body arched subtly off the surface beneath, back tensing as waves of release crashed over every nerve.
shane felt it - the way your body suddenly tightened around him in little confused pulses. like you were feeling something new and overwhelming without fully understanding what was happening. your moans changed, they grew higher, more desperate.
"shaneâŠ" you whimpered his name first - shaky and uncertain, like asking for help. "oh⊠oh my godâŠ" a flood of heat and pressure coiling low that youâd never felt before. your hips twitched slightly on their own, trying to press closer even though shane was already deep inside. tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.
shane didnât stop when your body tensed - eyes rolling back, lips parting in shock as the first real orgasm of your life crashed through you - he kept moving. his hips stayed deep, thrusts never breaking rhythm even as he felt you clench around him tight.
then his thumb moved. without missing a beat, shane reached down and circled your clit with pressure, firm but careful rub that matched his pace. your breath came out in short gasps now, moans turning high-pitched. "fuck- shane!" each cry barely controlled as waves of pleasure slammed into you.
if anything, his touch grew bolder and more assure as you came harder than ever before. your body arched off him completely, back bowing slightly as pleasure overtook every nerve. your moans were loud, unfiltered cries. tears spilling freely down the sides of your face from how intense it was.
shane watched you unravel with awe in his eyes, his cock still moving and twitching inside, his thumb still circling.
"that's it, baby⊠you did so good," he whispered, breathless. shaneâs voice was hoarse. "so fucking beautiful like thisâŠ" praise poured from him in between kisses. his hips finally lost their slow control. the sight of you - glowing, teary-eyed, shaking from the aftershocks broke something in shane. with a low groan deep in his chest he came inside you hard. hot pulses flooded into you as he buried himself completely inside without pulling out even an inch.
soon after, his hand slips beneath the blanket, finding yours without looking. your fingers lace together automatically, fitting like theyâve done it a hundred times before. he rubs his thumb across your knuckles in slow, lazy strokes, his breathing evening out with every passing minute.
âcâmere.â
you smile and settle closer, your cheek resting over his heartbeat. he exhales, long and content, wrapping both arms around you like he has no intention of letting go for the rest of the night.
the couch creaks softly under the rhythm of your movements. shane lies beneath you, his breath coming in slow and controlled. his free hand finds yours where it rests on his chest, fingers intertwining loosely - holding on without clinging too tight. his hips lift slightly to meet yours as your walls flutter around him.
the silence between you is electric, broken only by the soft sounds of shared breaths and skin slapping. shane stares deeply, half-lidded, watching you with intense eyes, focused on the way you're squeezing him tight. you move above him in a slow, steady rhythm. his hands rest on your hips, guiding you up and down, soft groan escaping him when you sink down deeper.
"god... look at you.â his voice comes low, rough around the edges - the kind that makes your pulse jump. his hands slide up your back beneath your shirt, thumbs tracing gentle circles just above your spine. each touch sends a shiver through you as you feel goosebumps all over your body.
shaneâs control finally snaps - his hands tighten on your hips as he lifts you slightly, then pulls you down hard with a low groan. the rhythm becomes rougher, less measured. the couch creaks under the force of his thrusts. every movement is sharp and urgent; his breathing turns ragged, forehead damp with sweat as pleasure builds fast and intense.
the tension coils tighter in your stomach, each movement sending sparks through your nerves. shaneâs strong hands guide you just right - up and down, steady and sure as he watches every flicker of pleasure on your face. soon enough your breath hitches; fingers clutch at his shoulders for balance as the wave crashes over you - quiet cry slipping out before you can stop it.
shane feels the way your body tenses then shudders and he doesnât slow. Instead, his hips snap up harder now, chasing his own orgasm. a quiet grunt escapes him when you grind down just right. he tilts his head back against the cushions for a second, eyes closing at the sensation, then they snap open again to lock onto yours.
when it hits him - waves of release crashing through - the sound he makes is muffled against your shoulder where he buries his face. he holds you flush against him through it all, pulse racing, heartbeat loud in both your ears. shaneâs arms wrap around you loosely as you both catch your breath, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath your cheek.
after a long moment of quiet, he presses a kiss to your temple. "you're perfect." the words hang between you. he doesnât say anything else after - just holds you closer and rests his chin against the top of your head.
itâs well past midnight. the windows are cracked just enough to let cool air slip inside. you sink into the passenger seat with your knees drawn slightly inward, one hand absently tracing circles against the fabric while the other rests by the window.
the adrenaline has worn off enough for your thoughts to catch up with you, replaying the evening in flashes that donât seem to fit together - the easy laughter over dinner, the teasing back and forth when he refused to let you pay, the way heâd hidden a crooked smile behind his drink every time you caught him looking at you.
then the stranger who wandered over, mistaking your friendliness for an invitation, and the way shaneâs entire demeanor changed in the space of a heartbeat. he hasnât looked at you since.
his expression is carved from stone, lit only by passing streetlights that slide across the hard line of his jaw and disappear again. one elbow rests against the door while the other hand stays fixed on the steering wheel so tightly the leather creaks beneath his grip.
the scrape across his knuckles has already dried into a dark stain, but he pays it no attention. every now and then his mouth presses into a thinner line, as if heâs replaying the fight himself and finding new reasons to stay irritated.
mostly at the man, a little at the situation, and perhaps most of all at himself for letting his temper get the better of him in front of you. even angry, though, thereâs something restrained about him.
you, on the other hand, canât stop stealing glances his way. curiosity has always gotten the better of you, and tonight is no exception. you notice the tiny crease between his brows that only appears when heâs thinking too hard, the faint smear of dust on the sleeve of his jacket from where someone shoved him, the way he flexes his injured hand whenever he thinks you arenât paying attention.
âquit staring,â he says flatly.
âI wasnât.â
âyou were.â
you look back out the windshield. the silence returns, stretching mile after mile until you canât stand it anymore.
âyour hand needs ice.â
ânah, no need.â you notice shane rolling his eyes as he chuckles roughly.
âyou didnât have to hit him.â
that finally gets a reaction and his fingers tighten around the wheel. "he was bothering you.â
âand your solution was punching him?â
âworked, didnât it?â he lets out a dry laugh without looking your way.
you donât answer. the truck rolls over a rough patch of pavement, making the suspension creak. after another minute, he speaks again.
âyou mad at me?â
the question catches you off guard. under all that anger, beneath the hard expression and clipped words, thereâs still something else sitting just below the surface.
you turn in your seat. you reach across the console, gently take his injured hand despite the dried blood on his knuckles, and turn it over in yours.
when you let go, he clears his throat and looks back through the windshield. the engine hums between you, filling the silence he seems unwilling to break.
âyou should go inside. itâs late.â
you look toward the house, then back at him.
âthatâs it?â
his eyes flick to yours for only a second before settling stubbornly on the windshield again. âwhat else is there? you oughta get some sleep,â he says. âforget about tonight.â
shane stares through the windshield with that same hard expression heâs worn ever since the bar, shoulders squared as though heâs bracing for another fight that already ended. but up close you catch the details nobody else would bother looking for - the tiredness around his eyes, the nick along his cheek where someoneâs ring must have caught him, the faint flex of his injured hand against the steering wheel before he hides it again.
you reach across the center console before you can talk yourself out of it. he notices too late to stop you.
your fingers brush the side of his face, and every bit of tension in him freezes. not melts - freezes. he looks at you then, properly, surprise replacing irritation in a way thatâs almost impossible to miss.
you lean in and press a brief kiss to his lips. his lips are rough and stiff - unsure what to do with your affection. when you pull away, heâs still staring at you with the same bewildered expression, as though the evening has suddenly taken a turn he never prepared for.
his gaze drops for a fraction of a second before returning to yours. the corner of his mouth twitches despite himself. shane shakes his head once, almost in disbelief.
âgo inside,â he whispers, the words carrying none of their earlier sharpness. âbefore I find another reason to keep you here.â
you canât think of anything clever to say back.
instead, a smile creeps onto your face so slowly you donât even notice it until your cheeks begin to ache. you duck your head on instinct, suddenly distracted by the edge of your sleeve, trying to hide it from him as if the darkness might do you the favor.
you can feel his eyes on you, patient now instead of guarded, watching the way your shoulders lift with a quiet laugh you never quite let escape. your fingers fidget uselessly with the door handle, buying yourself another second before you have to look back at him.
when you finally do, his expression has softened into something almost impossible to recognize. the tension is still there around his eyes, but itâs been pushed aside by something gentler, something he doesnât seem entirely comfortable wearing. thereâs a hint of embarrassment in it, too, as though he hadnât meant to say the thought out loud.
âwhat?â he asks, catching your grin.
ânothing.â
âdonât give me that.â
you shake your head, still smiling. âyou can be really sweet when youâre not trying so hard not to be.â
he scoffs and looks away toward the windshield, but not before you catch the faintest color rise along his ears.
âdonât start making things up, sweetheart."
âIâm not.â
he mumbles something under his breath that you canât make out, though it sounds suspiciously like an attempt to change the subject. it only makes you smile wider. for someone so quick to meet the world head-on, compliments seem to leave him with nowhere to hide.
you simply sit there, stealing glances at each other when you think the other isnât looking, both pretending thereâs any real hurry to end the night. eventually, you push the door open and step out onto the gravel. before closing it, you lean back in just enough to meet his eyes one last time.
âgoodnight, shane.â
âsweet dreams, baby.â he holds your gaze for a beat longer than usual, the corners of his mouth lifting in that barely-there smile reserved only for you.
you shut the door and start toward the house, unable to wipe the grin from your face no matter how hard you try. halfway to the porch, you risk a glance over your shoulder. heâs still there.
one arm draped over the steering wheel, watching to make sure you make it inside, wearing that same guarded look that fools everyone except you. because hidden beneath the rough edges, the temper, the silence, is a kind of tenderness he seems almost embarrassed to possess.
when you step onto the porch and glance back over your shoulder, the truck is still parked where you left it. shane waits until youâve unlocked the door and disappeared safely inside before he finally eases away from the curb and vanishes into the darkness.
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