Nightingale
Pairing: dbf!ShaneWalsh x reader
This is part 4, find the first three parts on my page!
Summary: Feeling shunned and embarrassed after your run in with Shane, you’re out for revenge
Tags: Age- gap relationship, forbidden trope, dads best friend, no- outbreak TWD, TWD modern au, 18+ themes MDNI
Warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, recreational drg use, suggestive language, masturbation, light voyeurism
a/n: apologies this took so long guys but here’s part fourrrr😛 hope ye enjoy ;)
Chapter 4: Puff, Puff, Pass A slow, painful week later you were still thinking about it. About him. The Incident. The best-worst moment of your life. Despite Tommy Benson blowing up your phone, Shane Walsh was the only man on your mind. When you were sitting at your vanity in the mornings, combing through your hair absent-mindedly, it was Shane on your mind. When you were mucking out the stables with your dad in the evenings, it was the feeling of his huge hands on your body. And when you collapsed into bed at the end of the day, it was the sight of his heaving chest in those rare minutes after the fight, the wild look in his eyes, his pupils blown out. The way he had looked at you in your room that evening. Like he was trying to drink you. Had you imagined it? Was it wishful thinking?
You never cared, really, when some boy was mouthing off about you; trying to spread vile rumours or bragging to friends. After your breakup with Tommy, his best friend Brandon had tried to have it spread that you had genital warts. So yeah, guess you enjoyed it just a little when Shane’s fist was making meat of Tommy’s face.
“You alright, Bug?” your dads voice shakes you out of your thoughts, his eyes searching yours from across the dinner table.
Ugh, here you were again, thinking about him. Big bastard. Big, gorgeous bastard.
“Yeah,” you shake your head assuredly, “I’m all good dad. Just tired, I guess. Dinners great.”
Your dad scoffs. “See that’s how I know you’re lying. You hate my cooking.”
“I do not hate- “
“You do too! Don’t even deny it, bug, you once said you’d rather shit in your hands and clap than eat my chilli.”
You grimace. “Yowch, okay I did say that.”
Your dad chuckles, cuffing your arm gently. “So, tell me whats really going on. Lay it all out for your old man.”
“Gross, dad, don’t call yourself that. And there’s nothing wrong, I promise.”
You can tell by his face that he doesn’t really believe you, but years of experience of raising a daughter tell him not to push.
“Alright, keep your secrets. You know i’m here though, right? You can tell me anything.” He smiles at you softly, collecting your plate and bringing it to the sink.
“Yeah, for sure” you reply. For sure dad, can we talk about how i’ve spent the last week thinking about all the things I want your best friend to do to me? Daughter of the Year award.
“Anyways, I’ve got Shane coming over tonight for the game, if you wanna join.”
Fuck.
Can you not live in your own house anymore? You fight to keep your face neutral as you pass him to leave the kitchen.
“Uhmmm, I’ll probably pass I think I have some college stuff to look at.”
“Okay boring!” your dad calls to you as you climb the stairs. “Enjoy!” .
________________
Your dad and Shane have been boozing and laughing downstairs for almost four hours now. It takes a lot of effort to pretend to be busy for four hours. You had binged through some hockey show, tidied your vanity and tried in vain to read a book. Anything to get your mind off him.
A glance to your clock made it half past twelve. What could they possibly be talking about for four damn hours?
Alright, screw them.
You pull on a bikini, shucking an oversized tee on over it and pull a book out from your bookshelf, grabbing a joint from your stash behind it. You take extra care not to tread too heavily on the floorboards outside the living room, not wanting your dad to catch your late-night smoke, or worse try and invite you in.
The stars are out in full force tonight, the air a gentle kind of warm and the crickets sounding a constant chorus. Your dad had built a deck at the back of the garden when your mother was pregnant with you, one with a jacuzzi that she could sit in and watch the river flowing out behind the house. Sitting in it felt like a way to be closer to her, in a ridiculous kind of way. You doubted your mother had ever come out here to toke up, like you were now, but it felt comforting to watch the river from the same viewpoint she had. It was pretty much all you had, seeing as your dad didn’t like to talk about her. You pull the faded band tee over your head and launch your sliders off your feet, climbing the steps of the jacuzzi and settling in. After fiddling with the settings for a bit, you can finally ease back into the bubbles, sparking up your joint. The first pull makes you cough, the second makes you smile. That’s the stuff. This one goes out to you, mom!
“Your dad know you’re a little ganja fiend?”
You sit up quickly, whipping around to find the voice. It’s Shane, leaning against the wooden beam of the deck, an empty beer in his hand. He looks different in this light, his smile softer than usual, and he’s wearing a grey t-shirt you’ve never seen before. He looks handsome. Yuck.
You turn back around to the river, giving him your back. “My dad know your references are outdated? Ganja, old man?”
He laughs from behind you and the sound makes your whole chest feel light. Probably just the weed. The deck squeals under his boot as he steps up onto it, directly behind you now.
“Speaking of my dad, where is he? Your little play date over already?” you ask drily, taking another heavy pull.
A calloused hand reaches down over your shoulder, plucking the joint from your hand. “He’s conked out on the couch.”
You spin to face him angrily, water sloshing over the sides of the jacuzzi.
“Do you mind?” You demand, holding your hand out for your blunt.
He towers over you, one arm flexing as he leans against the tub and the other bringing your blunt to his lips. He holds your gaze as he does it, his cheeks hollowing out around the joint as he inhales. “You’re a bad influence on me, kid. I might have to tell your dad” he smirks.
You roll your eyes at him and push yourself up slightly from the tub, snatching it back out of his hands and planting yourself back down in the warm water.
“Maybe I should tell him youre stealing my hard-earned produce” you shoot back, flicking water up at him with your free hand.
He curls a lip at the wet mark on his t-shirt, “maybe I should tell him his kids a brat” he shoots back.
The weed is probably messing with your brain, but you feel a challenge rise inside you. “Why don’t you get in, Shane. I mean, since your clothes are already wet” you shrug innocently, turning back around to the riverfront again.
For a few seconds, there’s silence behind you. Shit. Did you push it too far? Was he gonna run in and tell your dad what a freak you were?
The clink of a belt hitting the deck sounds out behind you, and then the soft thud of fabric falling. Shane walks into your eye line, climbing the steps at the opposite side of the jacuzzi and slowly sliding into the water. And he’s down to nothing but his boxers. You swallow and pull your eyes away quickly, picking a spot behind him to stare at and you swear the bastard smirks.
“Give me some room, kid. I’m not a small man.” Shane murmurs at you, his legs extending out and brushing once accidentally up against your bare calf.
Your pulse is jackhammering in your throat as you finally bring your eyes to meet his, your hand offering the blunt over to him. His fingertips brush yours as he takes it and pulls on it. His stare is heavy. His eyes drag like honey over your body, half immersed in the water. He tries to ignore the round curves of your breasts peeking from either side of your bikini top and you try to ignore his broad chest and the happy trail that leads down, down…
You pretend you don’t see the expanse of his thighs beneath the surface of the water, the heavy bulge that sits between them. He pretends he doesn’t notice your thighs rubbing together and sloshing water around, or the crease line where your legs meet your hips. There’s a string between the two of you, pulled taut and ready to snap and neither of you are prepared to test it. Your head is dizzy and your skin feels unbearably hot.
You swallow thickly. “Are we gonna talk about it, or just smoke?”
He raises a singular eyebrow at you, the corner of his mouth pulling. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, kid. Talk about what?”
Asshole. You weren’t prepared for him last time; you had been shy and pliant in his hands. Not this time, though. This time you wanted to watch him suffer, watch him crack. You wanted to pull the string and watch him unravel.
“You don’t want to talk about it, Shane?” you drawl, voice low. “You don’t want to talk about what we did in my room? You don’t want to talk about my dress, or my lips, or the way my breast felt in your hand?”
Shane swears, his hand flexing on the rim of the tub. “Christ, sweetheart. You better watch that dirty fuckin’ mouth.”
You move onto your knees in the tub, leaning forward towards Shane and plucking the joint out of his hand. You come to rest one of your hands beside his on the edge of the tub, almost caging him in.
“Or what?” you ask as you pull off the blunt. “You gonna keep teasing me, like a little boy or are you gonna show me, like a man.”
Shane swears again, his jaw clenched tight like a live wire. His eyes dart sideways once, back towards the house, watching for your dad. He looks back at you again, his tongue coming out to swipe over his bottom lip as he takes you in. He swallows and brings a hand up from the water, trailing a finger up your bare arm, toying with the bikini string at your neck and tracing down it, down over the slope of your breast. You bat his hand away and grab hold of the hair at the back of his neck, yanking his head back to look at you. His head tips back against the edge of the jacuzzi, his pupils blown black with lust, his mouth open and breath coming in pants. You have him, hook, line and sinker.
“I didn’t say you could touch, Shane.”
You pout at him softly, sitting back against the edge of the tub again. He’s putty in your hands, his eyes watching your every move as you slowly spread your legs wide, bent at the knee. You snuff out the joint on the edge of the jacuzzi and bring your hands to the back of your neck, pulling at the strings until your top falls from your chest, your tits springing out.
“Jeeeeesus christ, sweetheart” Shane swears, his eyes flicking between your face and your breasts.
When you trail a hand down your stomach, pushing it beneath the elastic of your bottoms, his hand flies to his crotch, squeezing.
“Fuck, kid, are you trying to kill me? Your dad is fifty feet away, you’re fuckin’ nuts” Shane mutters, his voice a rough whisper.
You know you should stop, you know how inappropriate this is. You know you should go back inside, pull the covers over your head, and let things go back to pretend normal. But you can’t ignore the need low in your belly, the look in Shane’s eye like he’s sick with a fever.
“You don’t get to kiss me and leave me all wound up and fucking ashamed, Shane. I want you to sit here and watch what you do to me. Sit there and watch me touch what you can’t have.” You state, “And don’t you dare touch yourself. I want you to feel how how I felt when you left me there, in my room.”
Shane pulls his hand back out of the water, resting it on the ledge. His chest is heaving up and down, his throat bobbing, but he does as he’s told. He just watches. No going back now.
Your hand moves again, your hips lifting so you can slide your bottoms down to your ankles. Slowly, with Shane watching every moment, you bring your hand to your aching cunt, your fingers sliding once through your folds and then coming up to your clit, swollen with need. You spread your knees wider so Shane can see it all, your fingers rubbing slow circles on your clit. He tips his head back and groans out loud at the sight.
“Christ, baby, look at you.”
Baby. He called you baby. You were so finished.
Your body has been taken over entirely by need, your fingers circling your clit faster, desperate to find release under Shane’s heavy gaze. Your free hand flies up hurriedly to your chest, palming your breast and pinching your nipple and Shane tracks the movement hungrily, desperate for every detail of you. Your pussy throbs beneath your touch, almost painfully, your breathing coming in frantic bursts. Your whole body is trembling; the heat of Shane’s body across from yours, your sinful touch on your own skin driving you mad. You need to come, need to come while Shane watches helplessly.
“Talk to me” you moan desperately “tell me how it feels, Shane.”
Shane groans, hands spasming likes he’s fighting every instinct.
“You look so fucking beautiful right now, sweetheart.” Shane coaxes “Got me so fuckin’ hard just watching you. That feel good, baby? Jesus Christ, the things I wanna do to you. Keep going, baby, you’re doing so good for me. God, I wanna sink into you and never pull out. Tell me how your pussy feels, baby.”
Shane’s words drive you closer and closer to the edge, and you’re so worked up you can only whine in response, your fingers moving faster on your puffy clit.
“Come on, sweetheart” Shane grunts “let me see that pretty face when you cum.”
Your orgasm hits you like a wave; pleasure firing off inside your body, your pussy spasming around your fingers. “Fuck, fuck, Shane,” you moan out, your hips arching off the bed of the jacuzzi wantonly.
Shane slams a fist down on the edge of the tub, his other hand flying down to the tent in his boxers, gripping his cock tight.
“Jesus-fuck, baby” Shane moans, his voice coming out choked as he watches you come down from your high.
You flop lazily against the corner of the tub, your breath evening out as you calm down. Shane stares at you silently, drinking in your post-orgasm state; the blush on your cheeks, your lips swollen from you biting down on them. He could watch that happen a thousand more times.
The post-orgasm clarity hits almost immediately, cleaving an awkward knife through the easy silence between you and Shane.
You clear your throat loudly, snatching your bikini from the water and tugging it back on hastily, pulling your bottoms back up your trembling legs.
“Uhm. I should probably get to bed. Dad might wake up” you mutter to Shane, avoiding his shocked stare. “Uh, thanks?”
With that you jump out from the jacuzzi, grabbing your t-shirt and stalking quickly back to the house. You don’t spare a single look back to Shane as you push open the patio door, locking it behind you. Your mind is a crazed chorus of what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck as you climb the stairs to your room, silently thanking God when you hear your dads' snores from the living room.
You just got off in front of your dad's best friend. Shane fucking Walsh just watched you cum. You were royally fucking screwed.