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You stayed longer than you planned at the bar, which you imagine is a typical excuse for Shane, but out of character for you. You had made a point to finish your chores early so you could spend the evening with friends at the Stardrop Saloon and had miraculously managed to rope Shane into joining the group. He was grouchy at first, even a bit rude, but lightened up as the night went on, cheering with Alex at an old recorded game Gus was playing on the TV, playing cards, even having a good time. You aren’t even sure you have booze to thank for all of it this time--the water you kept shoving at him slowed down his drinking. The walk back to the ranch is filled with just as much laughter as the two of you repeatedly push each other into bushes and drunkenly struggle to get out by yourselves.
“I can’t imagine making this trek in the winter,” you comment, holding your arms up to embrace the slight summer breeze. “Everything looks the same to me with snow--I get lost pretty easy.”
He swerves in front of you, trying to throw you off, and you push forward, nearly making him trip. “Jas and I always clear a path from the forest to town; it helps Marnie out and Jas couldn’t get to town by herself without it, she’s too small.” There’s a long pause. “Leah usually helps too, I think.”
Dim lights in the distance grow a bit brighter as you approach the clearing outside Marnie’s ranch. You wish it wasn’t so late, so the cows would greet you as you walk by the fence like they usually do, but they’re no doubt fast asleep--the wind pushes you along, pressuring you to continue to the farm, where your own bed is waiting for you, and an alarm to wake you up much earlier than you’d like. The lamps leading up to the door are still dim, and you are definitely still drunk, so you have to focus a bit on where the steps are, although Shane navigates them easily.
When you reach the door, you stop abruptly, swaying forward like you meant to continue inside but you know you have to get home. He notices your hesitation and pauses with his hand on the doorknob. “You can stay the night--Marnie loves you, she won’t mind.”
You shake your head. “I have to be up early tomorrow--melons are blooming, so it’ll be a busy couple days. Thanks, though.”
“Are you sure you’re okay to get home by yourself? It’s pretty late, I can walk you up to the farm if you want…”
“No, no, I’ll be okay! Thanks for the offer, though, really.”
Neither of you moves; you glance around to the path you came from, the path to the farm, Leah’s house in the distance, the windows of the ranch. Shane’s hand stays on the doorknob and he rubs the back of his neck with the other one. He watches you carefully, seems to realize how close you’re standing, and still doesn’t move.
As he begins to ask again if you’re sure, you reach forward and kiss him. It surprises him more than it surprises you: he stiffens slightly, making your stomach lurch thinking you’ve fucked up, but he lets out a short breath and starts to kiss you back. You impulsively push him forward and pin him against the door, knocking the breath out of him, but he pulls you closer in response. You slip your tongue into his mouth, tasting beer and being greeted warmly, and groan slightly. After a few moments you realize that you haven’t been breathing and you both gasp slightly as you break away from him. You stand frozen, staring at each other in the darkness, barely able to see each other’s faces.
“Come inside,” he whispers between heavy breaths. You lean forward and kiss him again, lighter this time; he pulls you closer, grinding against you slightly so you feel him as he gets harder. You lean back so your faces are only almost touching.
“I have to go home,” you murmur. You want to stay as much as he seems to want you to, but you aren’t sure how he’d feel about it in the morning--and you do have a busy couple days ahead of you. “And you’re drunk. And I’m drunk. I’d be taking advantage of you.”
“Not if I take advantage of you first.”
You turn your face away so you don’t laugh too close to him and notice a light on in one of the windows that you don’t remember seeing before. You might have seen it, but you feel a bit nervous anyway. “You should get to bed.”
He leans his head back against the door and clears his throat. “I know.” Neither of you moves. “Are you actually okay to get home by yourself?”
You insist you’ll be fine--you’re feeling more sober now, more alert than you were on the walk back from town. As you take a slow step backwards you lightly hook a finger on the edge of his jeans and let go. “I’ll see you later, okay? When we’re less drunk, and less likely to embarrass ourselves?”
He nods slightly, still a bit out of breath. “Speak for yourself,” he responds after a moment. “But yeah. I’ll see you later.”
You turn around and nearly trip over yourself as you start towards the farm; you glance back at him just before turning the corner of the building and see him watching you without having moved from the door. You try to stifle a grin before heading up the trail at a brisk pace, frustrated with yourself for starting something you couldn’t finish.
You keep an eye out in town for Shane, even taking the long route past Marnie’s farm one trip in case you’ll spot him, but you grow increasingly sure you scared him away. You’re kept busy for the most part; you have too many chores to do to try and reach out, and it may be for the best that you give him space regardless.
Four days after the night you came onto him, as you’re sealing barrels of jam in your workshop, you hear your dog barking halfheartedly outside. Outside the dirty window you can see Shane standing on your porch, waiting with his hands in his pockets.
You step outside and call your dog’s name, which causes both your dog and Shane to look your way. He holds a hand up to say hi and you wave him over. “I was about to take a break, I just have to finish these preserves,” you say loudly as he shuffles down the steps towards you. “C’mon in.”
The anxiety from the last few days spikes in your chest as he follows you into the workshop. He leans against the edge of your workbench, out of your way, as you seal the last barrel and wipe down the table. Neither of you says anything; you struggle to think of what you’d usually say, if you hadn’t tried to jump him less than a week ago, but you did, so you’re blanking, and also panicking. You abruptly put your rag down and turn to face him.
Once he has your attention, he stands up straighter and walks forward to meet you. He looks more serious than you’re used to seeing him--you open your mouth to say something, wanting to break eye contact but unable to. He kisses you, firmly, seriously--you relax and put one hand on his shoulder. After he breaks away, you both begin to blurt out an apology at the same time.
Shane stares at you. “You’re sorry?”
“For taking you by surprise like that, especially when you were drunk…”
He shuffles a bit closer. “I get it,” he interrupts you. “Why you wanted to stop, I mean. Do you still want to stop?”
You freeze, eyeing him for barely a moment before leaning in to kiss him again. He pushes you back harder with one hand holding your face and the other on the table, pinning you in place. You slip one hand underneath his shirt and grip his waist tightly in an attempt to pull him closer, but he’s already holding himself as close to you as he can get. His hand drops from your neck to hover over your waist.
“I haven’t...done this, in a while,” he murmurs. His fingers touch your skin tentatively. You kiss him, slowly this time, reassuring him. He leans into it and his eyes close; you kiss the side of his mouth, tracing kisses along his jaw down to his neck while he turns his head to let you. He grinds his hips slightly and his hand works its way up to your back. You lift your leg slightly to rub against his bulge and he stifled a groan, moving his hand back down to hold your hips on both sides.
You continue kissing him hungrily and eventually bite his lip. He loosens his grip in surprise and you take the opportunity to switch places with him, pressing him against the table this time and smirking.
“Do you want to stop?” you ask him. He shakes his head without breaking eye contact. You kiss his chest and down his abdomen, lowering yourself onto your knees in front of him, one hand on his bulge and the other on the edge of his pants. “Can I keep going?” He fumbles with the button on his jeans for a moment in response while you rub yourself slowly. You stop him at his underwear and stroke him through the fabric.
Shane grips the edge of the table with both hands and leans back. He watches you in awe as you pull down the lip of his underwear to his knees. You touch him gently at first, watching his reaction to the feeling of you touching him, and then to you licking the tip of his cock. He gasps and groans, thrusting his hips forward slightly. You hold the backs of his legs while taking his dick into your mouth and sucking slowly.
While you suck him off, you slip your hand down your pants and rub your clit in circles--you’re already wet, and sensitive to every movement and touch. You close your eyes for a moment and moan, and Shane’s body shivers while you bob on the tip of his cock. He throws his head back and lets out a full moan, no longer trying to stifle the noises he’s making.He mumbles, “Faster,” and just as you begin to bob faster you hear your dog barking excitedly outside the workshop.
You hesitate, and so Shane pauses. He watches you for a moment as you listen to your dog run to something in the distance. His eyes widen when he hears someone cooing to your dog, who is clearly happy to see them. You both nervously leap to stand in the blind spot of the windows to the workshop.
You peek out and see Robin petting your dog and knocking at your front door. She waits for a painstaking minute before turning around, surveying the view of the farm from your front porch, and continues on the trail towards town, her footsteps disappearing in the distance and your dog becoming quiet once more.
The entire time, you stare at Shane and giggle at one another--he’s pulled his underwear and pants up but hasn’t buttoned them, and now pulls you together again, eagerly pulls up your shirt to slip his hand down your pants. The feeling of his fingers rubbing against you after a moment of quiet draws out an involuntary groan from you and you lean against the table again, pulling yourself back to sit on it and holding him against you so you can kiss him. He’s a bit awkward at first, but catches you as you whisper to keep going, and gently slips his fingers inside you.
Having touched yourself already, you encourage him to keep going with another finger, and eventually pull away from a kiss to whisper, “I can grab protection if...you want to keep going.”
Shane seems shocked at first but whispers “Yes,” and steps back while you dig through the top drawer of your workbench to find a condom. You stare at the package, trying to imagine whether he’d like to put it on himself or not, but he takes it from you before you can make a decision. You sit back on the table and he stands in front of you as he tries to roll on the condom--it looks like it’s been a while since he’s had to worry about using one right, but he figures it out pretty quickly and rubs his cock against your clit.
You grip the edge of the table this time; it feels like it’s been too long since you’ve had this too, and you have to remind yourself to enjoy his teasing, and of how good it feels. After a minute he begins to thrust a bit lower, but hesitating to go much further. You reach down and stroke him slightly before guiding him into you, and you’re surprised to find you quickly become comfortable. Your breaths catch at the same time and you return to kissing; you hold his hips firmly and beg him to keep going.
He struggles to focus on kissing you and fucking you at the same time, and seems desperate for both; he rubs you lightly with one hand and holds you in place with the other. Each request you make to go further, faster, harder, is met eagerly, and it occurs to you that his desperation is wanting to please you. You lean back onto your elbows, and as your lower back reaches the table a rush of pleasure washes over you. You cry out, even swearing this time.
His desperation turns to pride as he leans over you, spurred on by your reactions; he lifts your legs up slightly and you reach down to rub yourself and give him a break. He drops his head and starts fucking you with renewed intensity--you can feel yourself getting closer, and the anticipation of watching him cum is incredible.
He stands up straight and leans his head back, shivers, and begins to slow; feeling him, watching him get off, is what pushes you over the edge. You lay back on the table and pull him closer with your legs as you let out a much louder cry; he notices and keeps fucking you, back to being desperate to please you, refusing to break eye contact. As you relax and let your hands fall to your sides, he jokingly collapses on top of you without pulling out.
There’s a moment of silence--chickens in the distance, but otherwise quiet--before you both begin laughing. He tilts his head up, resting his face against your neck, and kisses you. You stare up at the ceiling of your workshop, enjoying the buzz and not wanting to move or disturb him, but run your hand through his hair. After your breathing has evened out you turn to kiss him back, and he stands up and back.
You sit, suddenly a little self-conscious--you’re dirty and covered in fruit stains from working, and have to pull your pants on before you can turn to face Shane again. He’s fidgeting with the button on his jeans and steps towards you to kiss you again--this time it’s long and consistent, not making out. You kiss him back, holding him in your arms, and don’t move for a while. When you break apart, he watches you carefully, his face red (but perhaps not entirely from the sex), and smiles slightly. He hugs you closely and kisses your neck sweetly.
“I’m sorry we couldn’t do that the other night,” you say. He chuckles a little bit. “I’m still sorry for jumping you like that.”
There’s a long pause. “I’m not sure I would’ve taken the hint if you hadn’t. I was so sure you just, like, felt bad for me.”
You feel a pang in your chest. “I’m glad you came out here. I missed you.”
“I can come out more often...if you want.”
“Please.” You lift his chin up and kiss him. “Please do this more often.”