Chapter Text
It should have been simple, that's what Shane keeps thinking.
She came to this town like a ripple in a still pond, one that had laid dormant, ever uninterrupted so that the cycle it permeated could continue undisturbed. He had grown so used to his life, knowing what to expect of not just himself, but of others who resided here. Everything was predictable, and understood, and he knew that he would, more than likely, die to it. That he would inevitably give in to a thought that asked him to lay down, amongst silver cans and starlight, and to never wake up.
Then she showed up, and the waters moved, the stillness disturbed, and the status quo changed.
At first, he didn't even think much of it; he overheard Lewis talking in the Saloon about the old man whose name, even now, slipped through Shane’s memory, and how his granddaughter would be moving in to take over for his legacy, to manage what remained of a property nearly overrun by the wilds, trying to reclaim what had once been taken from them. It seemed innocuous to Shane, at first, as he sipped at his ever familiar glass, the contents taking their usual delayed effect, thanks to years of tolerance being built up. Sure, it would be a new person, but that didn't mean anything in his life would change. He was sure of that; no matter what happened in this sleepy, forgotten town, nothing had changed the cycle that he had carefully carved for himself, though some days he felt as though he had been trapped in it by some overwhelmingly spiteful force of nature.
Wake up, get dressed, go to work, get off work, get drunk, go to sleep. That was the routine, that was always the routine. No one would change that, not himself, or anyone else.
So when he saw her, sure, there was that initial flicker of surprise. He could feel how his eyebrows slightly rose as he watched her walk into town for the first time, led by their illustrious mayor, probably taking her to the community center, judging by the direction they were going. The only reason his gaze even stayed longer than he would have normally allowed was because he noted that she looked younger than he would have figured. Maybe mid twenties? Well, whatever; that just means he'll fly even further under her radar, and he could go back to living in his quiet, understood routine. He stepped on and immediately forgot about the observation, and that should have been that.
Later that day, now on the most enjoyable part of his cycle, he nursed the glass mug like a physical part of himself returned in his hand. He was about to pull out his wallet, to pay Gus for the drink, a motion made habit that felt as natural as breathing, before his voice caused him to stop. “No need, pal. Our new resident bought that one for you.”
Thus, the cycle was broken, the snake's head chopped off of its tail, forcing the ouroboros to be broken, and life was changed.
He didn't think it was; the conversation was simple. She was kind, friendlier than he cared for, but it was hard to not just attribute that to her youth. That was the first thing he inquired about, and when she replied that she was twenty two, he could actually feel his stomach twist, the knots sitting uncomfortably. He wasn't sure why; she was an adult, at least a year past the proper age to indulge him in his ceaseless, self-destructive habit, but a part of him felt as though he should suddenly force himself into a more proper facade of responsibility and due diligence, almost like when he was with Jas. Regardless, the conversation was pleasant, and when she smiled up at him, with eyes far too bright, and practically glowing with life not yet sinking its poisonous fangs into her optimism, he found himself sucked into this conversation, though he tried his hardest to worm his way out of it.
He gave her enough reason to be disinterested; he was fifty, he was still living with his aunt, and he was alone. A loser, by more or less every societal definition, and he told himself that that should do the trick, get her to walk away, to find some other bastard to spend her time talking to, before he just depressed her evening. Yet try as she might, she just continued to indulge, and gave him some details about herself that, while entirely important, at least gave him some insight as to why she wasn't immediately off-put by him: she worked in Joja's data centers, she hated it, and she was on her own, twenty two and full of uncertainty, and excitement about a future that, hopefully, held better prospects for her than the ones she had back in the city. The wheels of fate had dug into her to a degree, forcing her friendships to become strained due to a work-life imbalance, and now, she was here, hoping to start fresh, to have some hope.
Well, he wouldn't be the one to give her that, but he still toasted his glass to her in a mock ceremony, and wished her the best. “Give it time, kid. You'll get there.”
He noticed the blush at that, and his eyes tried to search for any signs that she'd had a drink of her own. Maybe a glass where she had been sitting at the bar, or a can, or something, but no–this blush was natural, manmade by his little, casual reply, and the knots twisted harder. He deluded himself into believing it was part of his imagination, his ego attempting to goad him into the false belief that he still had some inherent charm to himself, when he knew fully well that he didn't.
That should have been that. The day ended, they had said their goodbyes, and he went back home. He replayed that conversation again, and again, trying to figure out if there was something he had missed, or if he had overstepped his boundaries, or maybe he'd been a creepy old fuck and hadn't even known it, but it didn't matter. She'd just forget about him, and move on, and the cycle would continue.
It didn't.
For the next few weeks, he had noticed how she had gone out of her way to talk to him, to ask how his day was going. It was annoying, at first–what the fuck was the point in this? He knew others were far better at the friendly pretense than himself, and he was absolutely loathed at the casual small talk, but she kept coming back. A wave here, a smile there, and a joke that, much to his bereavement, would occasionally make him crack a smile. He'd even given in to her request to exchange numbers, though part of him told himself it was simply because Marnie wasn't really great at keeping up with smartphones, and that he would be a more convenient person to reach out to if she needed to drop in suddenly for husbandry supplies.
Of course, that belief was less than easy to cling on to when she would occasionally send him a picture here of the coop Robin was building for her, or of some ridiculous joke that she'd found while perusing the internet, be denial was a strong force, aided by ales known by name to him. It was fine; things were still mostly intact, life was expected, and he could continue on his path of self guided hatred into an inevitable darkness.
He felt that looming desire now to meet the end, as he was forced to stock yet another shelf, one of hundreds, of thousands, of millions in his tired mind. The store only had about twenty, but he felt like it had enough to last him a decade. He glanced down at the contents he had been shuffling onto the shelves this time; canned foods, processed with enough preservatives to last a dozen apocalypses. He was just about to reach into the box, to stick one of dozens up onto the shelf, when her voice hit his ears, and he froze.
She wasn't talking to him this time; he had gotten so used to seeing her come up to him unannounced, as though always searching for his presence, that he had almost forgotten that others worked here at all, others that she could talk to, that she probably had talked to, besides himself. His eyes darted down to the far end of the aisle, and he felt something claw at his insides, ugly and unfamiliar. No, this time, she was talking to Sam. It was funny; Shane had worked alongside the young blonde for what felt like a lifetime, yet his mind had been so swept up in his own concerns and self preservation, that it was as though Sam had been pushed out of his cerebral context entirely, but right now, he was right at the forefront.
He saw how she smiled, and how things appeared to be just as the same as when they talked. He never considered himself the jealous type, and why would he be? It wasn't exactly like they were dating or that he had some kind of childish claim over her. He was better than that, surely, than to be so immature as to think of himself as the only important figure in her life. She was younger than him, sure, but she was still an adult, still full of agency, capable of making her own friends and decisions. All of these thoughts ran through his mind, and he was just about to dismiss the sight altogether, but then he heard her laugh, and he felt that ugly sensation claw back into his skin.
He'd never heard her laugh like that; more open, unguarded, less cautious. It sort of echoed down the aisle, as though it were being amplified to emphasize his torment, and he could actually feel his grip tightening on one of the metal cans, threatening to completely crush it against his palm. Shane knew he was pathetic, he told himself that just about every day of his life, but this felt low for him, especially low. He was actually feeling jealous, and maybe it was because it was Sam, in this instance, someone he knew was better for her to hang around, to spend her time growing closer to; he was kinder, confident, more easy going, and Yoba knows he was far more appropriate for her to be seen with. He loved music, Hell, he had a band, and women seemed to always love guys in a band, why did they always love guys in a fucking band?
The thoughts spiraled like a labyrinthine nightmare, and he could actually feel a bead of sweat dropping from his brow, with his heart beating uncomfortably against his chest. Maybe, once they were done talking, she would come over to see him. Maybe that had been her plan all along, and Sam had just caught her before she had come over to him. So he watched, and waited, sensing that their conversation was coming to a close, judging by how Sam was starting to turn away, and went back to his usual task of cleaning up throughout the store. Yet, instead of her turning to walk in his direction, she walked away. She didn't even acknowledge his presence, or wave, or so much as give him a glance. Shane, in that moment, actually felt some part of him, whatever that part had been, maybe responsibility, or willpower, or a mix of the two, actually snapped. He could hear it, like a broken branch cracking in his ears, as he stood, half holding the can, and half crouched like a forgotten, ill-fated animal, left to die in its fluorescent cage of blue walls and advertisements for buy one, get one free deals.
The next 7 hours felt like a snapshot, as though watching himself through a movie screen, with only flickers of scenes coming into his full perspective. First, he finished his work day, and then he bought a six pack just before he left. Then, he pulled out his phone, and, for the literal first time since they had exchanged numbers, he texted her first.
“Hey, you free?”
She didn't make him wait long for a response. The reply came fairly eagerly, or at least, that's how he felt about it, since she didn't take very long. He told himself to make it sound as casual as possible; meet him at the dock that was just a little towards the forest, across from Marnie's house, and just past Leah’s. They could hang out, have a couple beers, talk the night away. It would be friendly, and she said she'd needed a friend, and that was maybe what he needed now, more than ever. Just to talk, to set his mind at ease, more than what cheap booze and his hand could afford him.
That last thought made him actually feel sick to his stomach, and he stopped himself before he could indulge further on the notion. He just needed to set his mind at ease, to know that this was nothing more than two adults, having a comfortable conversation, and making things clear on where they stood. That was all. He distracted himself by looking up at the encroaching starlight, the glow of the moon hanging high into the air, beginning its vigilance over the world below. It was comfortable and warm, with the end of spring leading them into the beginning swath of what would presumably be another humid, hot summer. By the time you had arrived, he'd already cracked open about two cans, downing one in quick succession, while the other was currently being nursed in his hand. Her footsteps against the wood caused his head to turn, and a casual smile would form on his lips, his hand raised in greeting, still holding the blue can.
“Hey.” He greeted, his voice, tired, calm, and a bit lower in tone than he meant, but her smile told him that it was fine. It actually helped to assure him, in some way already, seeing her look happy to be here. Her clothes were simple enough; a green sweater, some basic jeans shorts that hung close to her thighs, and some brown, slightly dirty boots.
“Hey! Sorry if I made you wait, I was finishing up with some stuff back on the farm.” She explained, and she took her seat next to him on the dock, letting her legs hang over, feet high above the slow, calm waters. Fireflies did their magic, as they seemed apt to do on nights like these, giving a faint, yellow glow against the darkness of the lake. “Honestly, I didn't expect the text. Bad day?” She then said, unable to keep that thought out of her mind, and she looked up at him, as if trying to search his features, seeing if he showed any signs that he had had a particularly rough time at his job.
“Nah. I'm fine, kid, just didn't feel like dealing with the noise in the Saloon, or like drinking by myself. Speaking of which,” He explained, and he handed the can that he had been holding in his hand. It was unopened, and slightly warm to the touch. “Help yourself. Got enough here for the both of us.”
There it was–a look so small, yet somehow gave him a slew of answers. A blush, a brief hesitance, but then she took the can, and he could see how she dismissed her own concerns. She took the drink from his hands, and with a satisfying tug of the cap, she popped it open, the sound of carbonation sizzling in the quiet air. “Thanks.” She said, and with someone attempting to give him all the bravado of a girl trying so very, very hard, to look impressive, she took a drink. In fact, she took probably a longer swig than necessary, and as she downed the drink, Shane watched with a mix of amusement, and slight arousal, at the way her throat bobbed while the warm alcohol moved underneath her skin.
“Heh, woman after my own heart.” He lightly teased, grinning slightly, as she finished her swig, and her nose scrunched up, with a cough right after, yet his comment seemed to land well, as the slight smile, and faint blush that formed on her cheeks, told him that he had enough sense to know that this was going well. Nevertheless, he still found himself grounded, and part of that responsibility tethered to a piece of this reality that was keeping one foot firmly planted in the door, not quite ready to leap. Not yet, maybe not ever.
“Hah, very funny.” She replied, smirking just a little, using the back of her hand to wipe away some of the wet remnants of beer off her lips. Shane simply smirked in return, and lightly nudged at her shoulder in mock, friendly irritation.
Things were going well, he thought. They were chatting, and she was listening, and she seemed to be enjoying herself. Shane even got the courage to crack a joke at one point. “Oh yeah? Well, if you see any monsters in those mines, give me a call. Then I'll believe you.” He said, grinning behind his can, amused at the idea of these so-called beasts lurking within the abandoned mines. He knew of slimes. They were frequent in the woods, but he felt like she was overexaggarting a few of her details, just to appear more impressive to him.
Sure enough, he got his desired result; a laugh, open and sincere, just like what he heard back at work when she had been chatting with Sam, but now he was the one doing this to her. Yeah, she'd had a drink or two more, and her cheeks were getting a little redder by the minute, but that didn't make the laugh any less real. This was perfect, he thought: he got his assurance that he could make her laugh, that he had just as much of a desired effect on her as any young blood that tried to sweep her off her feet. It was horrible and vain, but Yoba, how he needed the ego boost. He should have ended it here. He intended to end it here, but then she looked up at him, and it sent something like Hellfire into his veins.
The eyes were what got him. Bright, a little hazy, but full of unhindered joy, and unabashed delight at gaining his attention. It was a trust he felt like he barely deserved; what the fuck was he doing? Why was he doing this? He should leave, he felt like he should leave. He started to turn away, to grab for the plastic that held the remaining beers together in a string, to tell her they should head back to their homes. He'd even walk her back, just to make sure she didn't trip and fall in some bush.
“Y'know, for an old guy, you're really handsome. Too bad you're sssuch a smartass.” She said, a tinge of a slurr in her voice, and time seemed to stand completely still. He could see that she was snickering and laughing at her teasing comment, but none of it quite hit his ears.
He knew he had a choice here. His suspicions were true, though he knew that going into this; she thought he was attractive, and fucking why, he didn't know. In what way had he told her anything, at all, that made her look at him as anything less than pathetic? Sure, he thought of himself at least as a moderately handsome guy, but not enough to actually garner the attention of some pretty thing like this. For a second that felt like an eternity, he sat with his back turned, his eyes gazing out into the wilderness, at the fireflies that danced by, as if hoping that they would give him some modicum of guidance. That they could lure him away, lead them both to a path that would be so much less complicated, and less painful, and yet, his head turned.
His body made the choice for him, and the cycle, the one that he had worked so hard to cultivate, prepare, and harvest, had shattered, ripped into a thousand pieces, and dumped into the lake, left to feed the fish that lurked beneath the waters. Shane leaned forward, just slightly, with his hand slowly coming to rest atop her thigh. He noted how warm her skin was, even underneath the fabric of her jeans, and he spoke, keeping his voice intentionally low, like a hushed, heavy whisper. “Yeah? Y'think I'm handsome, do you? That's cute, kid.” He said, keeping his hand firmly upon her thigh, and he stayed that way, unmoving, watching how she would respond.
A number of reactions seemed to happen all at once; a surprised widening of hazy eyes, followed by a deepening blush, and a shy smile. So far, nothing here indicated that she wanted away from this, or away from him, but he was just touching her thigh, and over her clothes at that. He wasn't going to go further unless he fully felt confident in her desires in this, though he denied how much the alcohol had maybe pushed things further along than they would have happened before, maybe more naturally, but slower than he cared to bare with at the moment. He felt starved, and the morsel before him looked agonizingly delicious. It didn't help that, now that they were closer, he could smell something faintly like fresh pine on her skin; nature had made it's mark, taking its new resident, and she had most likely spent her day attempting to gain control over the wildlife. It was a beautiful thought, imagining this young woman chopping away, attempting to fight back against foliage and overgrown trees.
“I mean… Heh, it's, uhm… It’s just true.” She replied, words seeming to slightly fail her, but he watched how a hand slipped upward, and began to twirl lightly at a stray strand of hair, hanging low from the top of her head. Another sign, he took was that she was enjoying his attention. He never imagined himself being like this; he tried to picture what his younger self would think of him now, of an older version of himself hitting on a girl nearly thirty years younger than him. He was almost certain he'd call himself a creepy, disgusting bastard. He probably was, but he had been denied such positive attention from anyone that wasn't conjured up in his mind to help him through a lonely night, and this felt like a high unlike anything he'd had in years.
“True, huh? Well, i’m glad the new farm girl has such low standards.” He joked, not wanting to come off too strong, despite the throbbing ache that was starting to make itself known between his legs. He was thankful for the darkness that surrounded them, concealing the better part of something that should have shamed him, that he did feel ashamed of, but he was, at least for the present, beyond caring. Besides, how could he not give in, not allow himself to indulge when the face next to him was so sweet, with a smile almost sickly saccharine on her lips.
“God, shut up. You--You’re like, really cute'n stuff. Nice voice, too. I like it when you talk to me.” She said, having to put an emphasis on a few of the words, bringing herself as best into focus as she could, but his close proximity had clearly caused her a degree of shyness, making it difficult to speak. Shane, on the other hand, had to fight the urge to grin from ear to ear; cute, and he had a nice voice? That was new; he hadn't really had someone compliment his voice before, but he was more than happy to use that to his advantage. As he leaned forward, his hand slowly sliding upward, trailing to her inner thigh now, he found his voice growing lower, nearly akin to that of a growl. When he was just close enough to reach the nape of her ear, he whispered.
“Well, we can keep talking… You want that, right..? I can do that for you. I can talk.” The words had more meaning than they seemed, and he hoped that, even in her dazed state, the intention would come through. He was trying to pull some obvious sign that she was consenting to this, that she wanted this, that she wanted him. He could hear the way her breath hitched, how her chest started to rise and fall underneath her sweater, and how her eyes suddenly looked far, far more hazy. He actually watched her bite her lip, as if she were trying to control herself, to hold on to some semblance of self-preservation. Jesus, did he really have this much charisma, or was she just that much of a lightweight?
“Y-Yeah… We can keep talking… I-I wanna keep, uhm…” She murmured, her voice trembling a little more than he was sure she expected, and he smiled. He hated how cute it was, how sweet it was to watch her fumble, to watch her hands balling up into fists, twisting on the hem of her sweater. With her confirmation, he decided to take a small chance, and his free hand moved to wrap around her waist. “Alright, alright… How about we get a little more cozy, okay..? C'mon. Lemme pick you up.” He suggested, and despite his best efforts, he couldn't help the snicker that came out from under his words, watching as her face lit up in surprise.
“What? You do realize that's what I do all day is lift stuff, right? I know I'm a mess, but I've got some muscle here.” He said, almost sounding at least a tad proud, and, as if to prove it, he would hook both of his arms around her, one around the small of her back, and the other hitching underneath her thigh.
He kept her back to his, which, while a little awkward at first, she settled into after a few moments of adjusting. He seemed to hold her with a surprising amount of ease, and as he settled her onto his lap, he did everything in his power to try and hide the obvious bulge between his legs, keeping her positioned in such a way that, at most, she might just disregard it. With her back now resting against his chest and stomach, and her legs somewhat straddling his hips, he rested his head on her shoulder, and wrapped his arms around her waist. He could actually feel her relax into the touch, and it shot another degree of relief through him. If she would have struggled, or seemed tense, he would have instantly let her go, but nope, here she was, as happy as could be.
“Mm… How's this? Feel nice?” He asked against her ear, his voice closer now, and she hummed a pleasant murmur in confirmation, nodding her head. He felt like his mind was spinning, his heart racing. Here was this perfectly sweet girl, happy and buzzed, and blearily enjoying every touch, even his voice, and he wondered if he was in a kind of dream. Maybe she was just indulging him, or maybe she was just too afraid to say otherwise against him, but… No, he doubted that. Everything she'd done had been, obviously, so eager and willing; sure, she was a bit drunk, but if she wasn't truly into this, if he hadn't been actually perceptive to her little crush, she wouldn't have even come out here to begin with, would she? That was what he told himself, and besides, he felt her hips slowly shuffle against his lap, and that more or less sealed any sort of doubts he had in the deepest parts of his mind.
“Hey… I noticed somethin’.” He first mumbled, and as he spoke, his right hand would gradually begin to hike up her sweater. He was pleased to feel smooth, soft skin against the calloused edges of his fingertips, but he kept it there for the time being. “You really, really… Like when I call you, ‘kid’, huh?”
At once, her demeanor shifted again; a bite of the lip, a shift of her hips, and she blushed a pitifully bright shade of red. Well, that certainly puts that theory to rest. The way she squirmed, the way her back seemed to rest a little more flush against his chest, that was more than enough for him to get the next bout of bravery he needed. As he talked, his hand would slowly continue to hike upward, while the other, mostly to keep her in place, held firm on her thigh. “Heh, that's cute… Guess you really do have a thing for older guys, huh? Not that I'm offended. Trust me… I'm really not.” His voice was heavy, and with his head on her shoulder, he could smell the alcohol on her breath, and a mix of, maybe, something sweeter there, but it was unclear to him what it was. At the end of his words, he found his hand cupping at her breast, and what he expected to feel was cotton, or some kind of fabric, but instead, his hand felt skin, smooth and completely unexpected. He was already cupping her bare breast, and he actually felt his cock physically twitch in his pants.
“You… Why–why don't you have a bra on?” He asked, surprise clear in his voice, almost shocked. He could feel her gaze turn away from him, out of a mix of embarrassment, and probably, hopefully, arousal. After a few seconds, she formed the words to explain, and it was fucking horribly difficult for him not to shift his hips as she spoke, her voice becoming more high pitched with every word. “Well, you–you texted me, like, pretty late, and I was getting ready to settle in for th'night, so I just uhm, kinda threw on my sweater an’, uhm… Didn't think I'd need t'wear one…” She trailed off, her words a mix of fumbled whimpers, and for a second, he searched her expression, as if wondering if this was some type of excuse, or if she was being sincere. No, he couldn't delude himself that much. She almost certainly didn't think this would happen, and why would she?
“Hey, shh… You don't gotta be embarrassed.” He finally thought to say, and, in an act of kindness even surprising to himself, he brought a kiss to her cheek, tilting his head in such a way that, as he did so, the stubble of his chin lightly grazed her shoulder. The sensation made her giggle slightly, and he smirked again. “Obviously, it's not like I'm complaining… and it doesn't seem like you mind either.” He hummed against her cheek, and, to emphasize his point, his hand began to gently fondle her best, his hand grabbing and lightly pulling at the skin there, all while his thumb started to rub atop her already peaked nipple.
The reaction was heavenly; a little whimper, followed by a gasp, and her head hung forward. One of her hands moved up to cup her mouth, to try and conceal the noises that were already being made from her lips, and that's when he decided to act, to feel the effects at play. “That's it… That's a good girl… Just relax, hm..? Bet it's been a while since someone's touched you like this, huh..? Pampered you properly?” He idly mused, and as he spoke, the hand that had been resting on her thigh now began, rather slowly, to shift towards the hem, to move himself to where he could dip beneath the fabric, to feel what was waiting for him just below the surface. Again, he hesitated, letting what little willpower he had left control the desire to just dive right in, and he waited to see if she tried to grab at his hand.
So far, so good–he continued to play with her breast, watching as she still responded positively to his touch, how she gasped and whimpered. He even started to grip, just a bit harder, just to pull a little more on her breast, and he watched with satisfaction as she just clasped down harder onto her mouth, to conceal another breathless moan. Taking that as all the confirmation he needed, he dipped his hand slowly beneath the hem of her jean shorts, wiggling his hand underneath the fabric, and though it was a tight squeeze, he was determined to feel for the warmth that would be just underneath. Before he even fully reached the bottom, his hand touching just at the top of where her panties began, he could already feel that she was radiating warmth, a small bundle of heat, barely contained by his embrace. A few inches further, and he was unable to stop the groan that rumbled in his throat.
She was soaked; no, not just wet, but truly, literally soaked. At once, his fingers started to press against her folds, though just atop her panties, not wanting to quite overwhelm her just yet. The last thing he wanted was to just greedily take her by surprise, even though some selfish part of him already wanted to just throw her back on the dock, spread her legs, and taste what was lurking beneath.
“Ohh, fuck… You really, really fuckin’ like this.” He commented, his eyes raking over the sight before him; one hand playing with her breast and, now, another rubbing at her wet lips. He was almost beaming with pride at himself, as she whimpered and whined against her palm, muffling the gasps and moans that threatened to echo throughout the forest. Her legs squirmed at either side of him, and he had to hold her, just a bit tighter, to keep her in place. The hand on her breast squeezed harder, and the arm beneath her jeans pressed tighter, reducing what little room was between them to nothing.
“Yeah, that's it, kid… Be good for me… Be good’n quiet… Don't wanna stop now, right..?” He murmured, each word seemingly like a live wire, cracking underneath the surface, making her gasp, and moan all the more. He could actually feel her get wetter, and while he wanted to keep teasing her, he knew he wasn't going to last much longer. Not like this. Not when she sounded like an angel cries against his bruised and broken soul. Without another word, he dipped his hand underneath her panties, and couldn't help but groan at the slick touch, at the way she coated his fingers like she was trying to envelope him, making it harder for him to resist his less than savory desires.
He probably should have waited, maybe rubbed a little at her clit to really get her riled up, and he would do that, but he needed to feel how tight she was first, to get an idea of if this would be feasible or not. “Gonna slip in here, alright..? Wanna spread your legs a little for me? I promise, it's gonna feel good. I'll make you feel so fucking good.” He grumbled against her ear, voice drunk with more than just alcohol on his lips, and when she nodded, her eyes half lidded, glazed over with need and aching, almost painful desire, he slipped his index finger inside, and groaned, low and heavy.
It barely gave him an ounce of resistance; he almost wondered if this was more just from the alcohol or himself. Had he really made this girl so riled up? That all it took was a few drinks, his hands, and she was practically squirming around his finger, giving him an idea of what he could expect in the future? His thoughts were snapped back into the moment when her hips slightly bucked back into his hand, and he actually had to resist the urge to bite into her shoulder, just because it drove him up a wall to see her so turned on by what he was doing. Not by anyone else, not because of anything else but because of him. The alcohol had just brought it to the forefront. That was all.
“Let's just… Yeah, let's add one more, and then… I’m gonna spread you out, okay? Just relax… Be a good girl, and relax. You're doin’ so good, kid… So good.” He uttered, whispering the words like honey against her ear, the stubble of his jaw scraping against her skin. Each sensation was more overwhelming than the next, and before long, she suddenly found two fingers pumping into her. A wince showed up on her expression, just as she tried to adjust, but her body quickly acclimated. Before long, his fingers were moving in a steady pace, the squelching sound echoing in his ears, making his cock throb painfully against his jeans. He had to force himself to be patient, to give this more time.
“Ssshane, m'so… It's so much..!” She finally spoke, words finally finding some way to echo back out of her throat, as though her brain had finally regained the ability to conjure words again, to communicate to the far larger man that held her with ease. He just kissed her neck, smirking ever so slightly against the skin, feeling the way she bucked her hips against his hand. He was a little worried about this, initially, given how long it had been since he'd had a woman on his lap like this, but this girl seemed to drink up his every word, his touch, like constant fuel to a fire, far too out of control for either of them to stop now.
“Yeah? Is it? You like it, though, right? Y'like my fingers? Cause you sure feel like it.” He grumbled against her ear, smiling when she gave him a shaky, eager nod. “Good, good… You’re takin’ them so well.” He then added, and just as he took another moment to regain his composure, he began to spread her, just ever so slightly, just to feel if she would give him much resistance. A sharp whine ached from her throat, and he watched with a type of smug, self-satisfaction, as she cried his name, a prayer, a devotion. “Okay, kid… I gotta have you. You think you're ready?” He murmured, now pressing his lips flush against her ear, breathing hot against her, feeling her hips twitch and shudder, anxious, as he stopped his movements to get her confirmation. “I wanna be inside you, but you gotta tell me–you gotta say you want it. Tell me you want it, baby. Please.” He then grunted, having to grit his teeth to keep from biting into her neck. Some ridiculous part of him wanted to mark her, to find some permanent remnants on her skin about their night together, but he knew better than to indulge in that just yet.
“Mhmm… I-I wanna… I want it.” She finally replied, her body trembling, her head lowered, and though he heard the confirmation, he moved his hand that had been holding her breast, releasing it to make her head turn to look back at him. “Yeah? You're sure kid? You really want me, right?” He asked, and there was a sense that he was asking this more for himself, rather than for her, to quiet some part of him that felt like stopping now.
“Mhmm… w-want it… I want it t’be you, Shane.” She then said, and again, with a quick nod, she gave him a hazy, almost sleepy looking smile. Shane committed the sight to memory, doing everything he could to preserve this moment in an instantaneous snap shot in his mind, before he leaned in, and pressed a chaste, gentle kiss to her lips. A murmured thanks moved against her lips, and quickly, probably a bit more excitedly than he meant to, he began to put everything into place. He had to quietly whisper for her to shush when he removed his fingers, causing her to whine in an almost petulant fashion, and he smirked against her neck. “Shhh, don't worry… I know, baby… You'll be nice'n full here, just gimmie a sec. Gotta make this right.” he assured her, peppering kisses against the side of her neck, before he went back to work on her clothes.
It wasn't too difficult, thankfully; he had to move both of his hands to unbutton her jeans, pulling them down, and her underwear, in one swift, easy motion. He made sure to pull them down to the point where they hung from one of her ankles. After that, he unzipped his own pants, lifting her up so he could remove them, and pull his boxers down just enough to where he could get himself out.
It took a bit to get her adjusted, to now move here to where he still had her back up against his chest, but now, he had her completely straddled over him. Shane had to hold on to every single shred of his self-control to not just thrust her in one, swift motion, but he knew better than that, even in this excited state. Maybe it was overconfidence, or maybe it was because he could literally feel her dripping above him, the tip of his cock now mere inches from her lips, but he couldn't help but to, in a moment of impulsive debauchery, lightly slap his swollen head against her. The farmer girl gave a little whine, her hands hanging limply at either side, and just before she could let out another petulant moan, more loud and unabashed than before, he caught her.
“Sshhh, shhhh… Easy, kid… Don't want someone interrupting us, do you? Here.” He said into her ear, and, without warning, he brought his palm up to cover her mouth, while the other still, maybe a little more mean than he meant, slapped at her entrance, smirking at the way she squirmed and moaned against his hand. “Yeah, there we go… Now, I'm gonna slide you down, okay? Just–slap my arm or somethin’ if it's too much.” He told her, voice now heavy with heat, with a lust that was mere seconds from driving him to madness. With careful precision, making sure to press himself just where he needed to be, he positioned his tip just against her, and slowly, he shifted his hips upward.
The moan she let out against his hand was unlike anything he's heard in decades. No matter how much porn he'd find, or how much his imagination tried to conjure something like this, he could recall the last time he'd felt someone so tight, so hot around him, and who moaned against his hand like she was about to lose her fucking mind. Unable to stop himself this time, the heat finally clouding what judgment was left, he finally tilted his head, and sunk his teeth into her neck. Not enough to break skin, but certainly enough that it would paint her skin with a mark for the morning after, leaving a temporarily obvious sign of their night amongst the fireflies and moonlight. The sensation just made her moan against his palm again, and, with a bit more recklessness, he grabbed her hip, and began to slide her completely downward, taking each inch slowly, one at a time, until, after what felt like an eternity, she was completely hilted at the base.
He didn't know if it was just because he was thicker than she was used to, or because she was just naturally tighter than he assumed, but he truly felt like her pussy was trying to take every single drop from him already, and they’d not even started moving. Maybe this was how it was in general, and his memory had just clouded his remembrance of times with other women, but she felt perfect. “Fuck, you… God, how're you so, fuckin’... So tight? You okay?” He growled against her neck, his hand tightening it's hold on her hip, and as she gave him a quick nod, he breathed a heavy sigh of relief.
“Alright, alright… I'm gonna move. I'm gonna fuck you now, so relax… Let me just–use this perfectly pussy. Fuck, it's been too damn long.” His words came out in a quiet ramble, sounding more like he was in a daze to himself, as though his mind were now more than happy to use the sweet, wet mess that was on top of him, like a precious, perfect flashlight.
When his hips began to move, he could actually see her head roll back, resting against his shoulder, and he smirked quietly to himself. It felt like a fucking dream, seeing a girl so beautiful, so at the top of her game, in the prime of her life, falling apart for him within a matter of seconds. He could feel how his cock stretched her, how it slid against every inch, as if literally shaping her to fit his cock completely. It was a high unlike anything he'd could possibly imagine, and if he could have this forever, if he could preserve this moment, encase it like a beast foolishly stepping into a droplet of resin, forced to become encased within a beautiful crystalline prison of amber, he would give up drinking, he would be as sober as a saint, or as pious as a priest.
Anything to keep this. Anything to have this for the rest of his worthless life.
“That’s it, kid… Holy fuck, your pussy is--it’s fuckin’ Heaven.” He groaned, the slow, upward momentum of his thrusts, making his head completely spin. He could only assume that she was thinking something similar, because the way she moaned against his hand, and the way her hands flexed inward, then outward at her sides, made him shiver with pride and egotistical delight. Patience had finally become a substance draining rapidly from his mind, and with a movement that was pathetically needy, he began to move more steadily, desperate to seek the release he had been waiting for, not just for this time they had been together, but for years, and years.
The sounds of nature, of crickets chirping, of the occasional rustle of wind against leaves, was beginning to drown out around them, background noise fading behind a new, lewd sensation, of slapping skin, and grunts, and moans. Shane actually felt his jaw go slack, his vision becoming blurrier, something that usually only happened when he was buzzed out of his gourd, but not with her. Not with a body made of divinity, of a pussy made so perfectly to take his cock, that he almost had to wonder If she was a manifestation made from his lost and lonely mind, that he’d finally suffered some prolonged delusion from years of alcohol abuse. His grip hardened on her hip, keeping her place to the best of his ability, all while his hand still clamped over her mouth, keeping her quiet so as to not cause any unrest, or alarm. If Leah heard them, or Yoba forbid, Marnie, he'd throw himself into the lake in an instant for ruining such a perfect night.
His thrusts started to become more erratic, as his hips began to burn, and ache from the turned thrusts. It'd been long since he'd actually fucked someone like this, since he had another warm body to enjoy to his heart's content, and his body was starting to grow sore, and annoyed, frustrated at itself for being suddenly used to brutally, after years of inactivity, minus time spent stocking shelves and moving new merchandise. Shane didn't know how much longer he could last, either; with the combination of her moans, with how he was squeezing him, and with his lack of human connection all coming to haunt him, clawing at his back, demanding he come to an end faster than he wanted to.
However, he felt the way she was starting to squirm a little more around him, how her body was beginning to shake, and how her eyes suddenly widened, as if possessed by a spirit of some lust-ridden beast, overtaking her senses. “Oh, fuck, fuck. You wanna come, kid? You wanna feel what it's like to come on my cock? Come then, baby. Let go. Let it all out.” He asked in a harsh, near breathless whisper, but asking was pointless. He hadn't realized it, but his body had overtaken his senses, fucking up into her with a needlessly hungry pace, and it was clear that the both of them were about to reach their limit. He knew he would have to pull out, or at least, he knew that was what he needed to do, and he was just about to ask her where he'd want her to come. After all, he was no spring chicken, he could handle taking her coming on top of him, surely. He'd let her feel good, and then he would pull out.
Or rather, that's what he told himself.
Overconfidence had made him forget his place, had made him think better of himself, and this was, ultimately, Shane’s downfall. When he slammed against the back of her walls, hitting her where her fingers had never quite been able to hit, she practically squeezed down on top of him with everything that she was worth, and her legs locked around him, squeezing against the sides of his legs. She was milking him, her body begging him to do what biology had demanded of their species, and, unable to stop it, and maybe not wanting to stop it, he released his grip on her mouth, and gripped at either side of her hips.
He more or less forced her to sit fully onto his cock, groaning low and hot into the air in a groan of brainless ecstasy. He could actually feel every single drop hitting inside of her, spilling from him, soaking the both of them in a matter of seconds. It was the best he had ever felt in his entire fucking life, and for a split second, as he continued to thrust, his hips making sure to dump his load as deeply as he could inside of her, cementing this moment permanently in their minds, he truly thought he had died.
This, he thought, was his reward for his suffering. That all of it, in the end, had led to him, and to her, and to this night on the dock.
The shockwaves of sensitivity came like a tidal wave, and while he wanted nothing more to stay completely buried inside of her, he at least knew better than to do so, and his body wasn't going to allow him to hold her like this forever. His hips felt like they were on fire, and as he lifted her up, the both of them winced in unison at the feeling of separating. A little awkwardly, Shane reached around, holding her with one arm, and then the other, to shrug off his jacket, laying it onto the dock, and sitting her down on top of it. He knew she was going to make a mess on it, but he didn't care, and he knew that would certainly be better than just sitting her on the bare wood.
Shane shrugged his pants back on, and he laid himself out on the dock, taking in deep, heavy breaths. She followed suit, no longer able to hold herself up, and while she had her bare ass on his jacket, slit still leaking with his cum, she laid back, and he made sure to hold out his arm, just for her to fall against it, helping her to cuddle up against his side. For a good, long minute, neither of them spoke. Shane found himself staring up at the moonlight, silently thanking the stars, and fate, and everything in between, that had led them to be together in this instance. Of course, as the high slowly made its way through his system, and his mind finally went back to rationalizing, and self-doubting, he found himself realizing that he had, indeed, just come inside this poor girl. Well, it didn't matter. Most women are on birth control nowadays, right? Not to mention the after morning pill, just to be extra on the safe side, and, he thought at least, that with how much he'd drank, and pissed his life away, that maybe he was shooting blanks by now, infertile and unable to bear children. As he turned his head to look at her, he smiled, seeing the sweat upon her brow, the breathless look on her face, and the way her eyes glowed like stars against the beautiful, moonlit sky, felt like an even better sight than when he had her moaning his name. He was just about to apologize, and to ask her if she was on any kind of birth control, but she had spoken before he could get the words out, but he wished she hadn't. He wished he hadn't heard those words, wished he had stayed back in the cycle. His heart plummeted into his stomach, and in an instant, what should have been a night full of simple beginnings, of a pleasant memory, turned into a whirlwind of regrets, and responsibilities. Her voice was a perfect contrast; sweet, delicate, in a dream, unaware of the expression on his face, how the color had left his face completely, as she smiled with all the joy that life had not yet robbed of her.
“Wow… I never thought sex could feel so, so… So good.”