shane maguire being a 'hero'
a/n: i thought about shane being prickly like he always is but with a slightly (probably ooc) soft edge for someone he felt the urge to protect. as well as someone he always wanted to have a little control over :) also, i added a few dex tags due to both characters being played by daddy wilson :p
mdni, fem!reader, afab!reader, implied age gap, predator/prey dynamics if you squint, reader is doe-coded, slightly dark themes, psychologically abusive themes
shane saw you just a few yards out from where he was camping for the time being.
as soon as he laid eyes on you, he could feel his cock twitching in his pants. you were sniffling, lifting your sleeve to wipe at your nose every few seconds. your eyes were red and watery.
he watched you through the scope of his rifle for a while, relishing the feeling of the power he quickly found over you: he could kill another predator who tried to stake a claim on your life just as easily as he could make you his prey. he felt he already had.
after he had got enough of watching you, he slung his rifle over his shoulder and stalked his way over to you.
"not very perceptive," he thought as you startled, only noticing his presence when he called out to you. just about a foot behind you.
you didn't seem stirred from your stupor by his heavy and foreboding gait, the crackle of leaves beneath his boots, not even the flee of a doe a few metres away when it caught his downwind scent.
he turned his head downward to you while introduced himself, probably overstating the authority he held as a wildlife officer. whatever made his energy seem that much more imposing to you. he tried to calmly ask what on earth had you stumbling through the middle of nowhere, tripping over your own feet.
it was slightly challenging to decipher your response.
"he--" referring to your boyfriend, but you couldn't quite get it out. you practically whimpered an apology. "he just--!" hopelessly trying to explain that your boyfriend—now an ex, shane assumed—had kicked you out of his van, curbing your plans to travel the world with him for the rest of your lives.
shane felt almost annoyed by your lamentations. despite your vulnerability fuelling the stubborn tent growing in his pants, he couldn't help but feel a little turned off by your impassioned display of emotions spurred on by another man.
regardless, he was making a list of your critical spots, so to speak. you had just been broken up with—discarded, really—in such a violent manner; you were all alone in a state you didn't know your way around; you had no money to get back 'home'. it almost seemed too opportune.
as soon as he had resolved to pursue you, he didn't care much to listen to you cry more. he planted a firm hand on hardly above the curve of your rear and rasped a husky "c'mon" before guiding you back to his camp.
shane didn't seem to have the self-consciousness to be even a little embarrassed at the fact he had nothing to offer you besides a can of beer dripping in condensation. he sat you down on a folding chair and tossed it to you before settling himself. he said nothing when you fumbled the catch, and still nothing when you cracked open the can and its overexcited foam spilled over your fingers.
he leaned forward marginally, planting his elbows on his knees. he watched you take a tentative sip from the can before your gaze shyly flitted to him.
the all-consuming pit of arousal started again in his abdomen as he watched your lips form a small pout. your gaze averted from his as you stared down at the can.
"i...have nowhere to go. i left home a while ago."
he tried his best to appear understanding at best. listening, at least.
"my parents won't wanna see me. i know they won't."
this acknowledgment, he noticed, seemed to aggravate your tears again. you buried your head in your hands and wept, as did the tip of shane's cock. he ran a hand over the scruff of his beard, his jaw clenched and relaxed as he listened. how you didn't "know what to do," and how you were "all alone." it all made his head spin a little.
he turned over different ideas of comfort in his mind. he ultimately didn't know what to do. with you or people in general. wasn't that why he opted for a life of solitude? surrounded by nothing but wildlife, he didn't think he'd have to know what to do in a situation like this.
he simply grunted under his breath, like the words were clawing at his throat trying to avoid expulsion. "look, uh..." he didn't quite know what to refer to you as, considering your tears had made you forget to tell him your name.
"you can stay with me. here. 'til you...work somethin' out, i guess." he took a seemingly embittered swig of his own beer. "'til you figure out how to get back on your feet."
the way your eyes turned up to his face was almost pornographic to him. your widened, red-rimmed eyes? your damp lashes? the newly dried tears and the tears that still threatened to fall? he carded it all away in his memory to use for later.
weeks passed and shane was convinced you didn't want to leave. you hadn't seemed to make an attempt to contact anybody or reach out for help getting out of california.
he couldn't blame you, though. from what you had told him, you had family on a mere technicality. shockingly, he could sympathise with your isolation.
sometimes he would allow you enrichment outside wherever he moved your camp to. he'd take you to a bar, let you have more drinks than you both knew you could handle. he'd stand over your shoulder as you tried to line up a shot on the pool table. you'd miss pretty terribly every time, looking at him over your shoulder and flashing him a timid grin. if he had enough alcohol in him, he would smile back. a little, at least.
you enjoyed falling into this routine with him. even in the moments you spent with other people, you felt like it was just you and shane. shane and you.
a daunting thing, though, was that he always insisted on sharing a tent with you. when he noticed your apprehension the first day you met, he drove the point home.
"it's dangerous. how could i possibly keep you safe if you're so far away from me?"
at your silence, he tilted his head in a way that suggested he was expecting an answer.
"you couldn't," was the only response that came to mind, muttered in slight trepidation after practically being scolded.
his eyes fluttered shut briefly as he turned his head towards the horizon. "that's right. don't ask me again."
after a particularly long night out, shane all but carried you home. you were limp against his side the entire walk, yet still apologised every time your hand brushed against his. he eventually grew frustrated with your inability to walk straight while drunk and he tried to lift you up over his shoulder.
to his surprise, and vague annoyance, you resisted and jumped away from him when you caught on to his intention. he fixed you with a cold glare. "what's the problem?"
he just watched as you swayed slightly, clasping your hands together in front of you. "i don't like being upside down."
he rolled his eyes, noting that despite how pliable your intoxicated body was, your resolve against his demands was stronger than usual. he grabbed your upper arm and wrestled you over to a parked car before lifting you onto the hood. he turned his back to you, gesticulating in a way that countered his usual aloofness.
you smiled to yourself before climbing onto his back and wrapping your legs around his waist. you slung your arms over his shoulders and rested your head against the back of his, inhaling the woody and slightly sweaty smell of him.
shane silently locked his arms under your knees and continued the trek back to your camp.
shane initiated your usual bedtime routine. he took off your shoes, then your top and your pants. he laid you down in the tent and knelt over you. sometimes, in your drunken haze, you felt he was contemplating your sensuality. he looked at you. examined you in your underwear. on nights after you drank he would pick up your wrist with a gentleness you had never seen from him in any other setting. it was intimate. he was just checking your pulse.
he set your arm down, never forgetting to brush his knuckles against your thigh.
he unceremoniously turned you on your side, facing away from him, before laying behind you.
feeling his warmth behind you spurred on your sentimentality. "shane. thank you." you paused and waited to see if he'd urge you to shut up. when met with silence, you continued. "thank you for taking care of me, and...yeah. thank you."
shane listened. his eyes rolled to the back of his skull. your voice that night was impossibly soft, even for a girl who he had surmised was made of cotton wool. he felt that familiar twitch in his pants he got whenever you became that little bit more vulnerable. you exposed your tender underbelly to him, like an invitation for him to run his hand over it—tease it with the pinnacle of a blade.
in an instant he manhandled you onto your back. the rustle of the tent beneath you made it almost hard to hear his breathing become shallow.
your sensitivity didn't implore him to handle you like ceramic. he never really felt like it was appropriate to cradle you like the fragile earthenware you appeared to be. his rough hands fisted at the most plush parts of you. he didn't take care when feeling up your thighs or your breasts or your stomach.
he knew full well that his grip on you was bruising. he intended it to be so when he forced you onto your stomach and lined his cock up with your entrance. he knew that when he bullied his cock into your pussy it would hurt tomorrow morning. he thought it'd be okay as long as he made you feel good tonight.
i listened to the trip hop remix of white feather haw tail deer hunter while proofreading this :p
one like, and i'll write pure smut for this pair—continuing right where i left off ;)
