Chapter Text
Steam filled the small shower stall. The Farmer melted into Shane’s embrace, her cheek nestled against his broad chest. He rested his chin atop her head, with one arm wrapped around her body, while his other hand gently moved wet strands of hair from her face.
But an unsettling feeling nagged at Shane. Despite wanting this so badly and for so long, now that he had her, he just couldn’t shake the sense that something was wrong. Was it the guilt of stalking her that plagued him? Or was it just his usual feelings of insecurity resurfacing? He couldn’t tell. Perhaps it was something else altogether.
He was aware of how absurd it was to be lost in his negative thoughts, especially in this intimate moment. So pushing aside the sickening feeling of dread that washed over him, Shane tried to focus on the present.
“Hey,” he said softly, looking down at her.
She looked up at him and smiled.
Water droplets had settled on her eyelashes and her face glistened. Words surfaced in Shane’s mind of things that had gone both said and unsaid. He had to lean down into a kiss to stop himself from blurting out that he loved her. Her hands came up to hold his face on either side, as he continued stroking her hair. They kissed, slowly and tenderly, savouring the taste of each other’s lips.
Next, he kissed her just below her ear, and, spurred on by the way she sighed so contentedly, placed more kisses down her neck and along her collarbone.
“You’re really something, you know that?” he said, pressing their foreheads together. His voice was just barely audible over the steady cascade of sounds from the shower.
“Shane,” she breathed, burying her face in his chest and pulling him tighter into her embrace. “I’m so glad that you’re…here.”
They stayed like that for a few moments of perfect bliss. Time seemed to stop in that small shower stall.
“Want me to wash your hair?” asked Shane.
———
The Farmer sat down on the edge of her bed, her wet hair (lovingly washed by Shane) dripping beads of water down her body. Her towel, carelessly fastened around her, fell open. She didn’t even seem to notice. She just gazed up at Shane as he stood in front of her.
His semi hard-on, clearly outlined through the towel around his waist, was at the height of her face. “Staying the night?” asked the Farmer, lazily reaching out to stroke his bulge through the towel. “It’s the weekend, so you won’t have to rush off in the morning,” she smiled up at him.
Shane closed his eyes and let out a quivering breath, trying to think straight as her hand sent tingles of electricity through his shaft. It felt good to be with the Farmer. So why wouldn’t he stay? He opened his eyes to look down at her.
He hoped she didn’t notice the way his hand slightly shook as he moved to wipe a droplet of water from her lip. Shane felt a sudden urgency to leave. “I probably shouldn’t ditch Jas two nights in a row,” he heard his voice respond.
“Aw, that’s fair,” said the Farmer, flopping down onto her back. “Besides, I probably won’t get much work done tomorrow if you’re around — and I have so much to do before Spring comes!”
Shane looked down at her naked body sprawled on the bed in front of him, wanting nothing more than to press himself against her and feel her warmth. Instead, he moved on autopilot, grabbing his clothes from the lounge and getting dressed there. He even had a conversation with the Farmer about her new coop as she lay in the other room — a conversation he could barely recall moments later, as he kissed her goodbye and walked down to the southern entrance of her farm.
What the fuck was wrong with him?! What was this feeling?
Shane entered the ranch. It was quiet; Marnie and Jas had turned in for the night. He stood with his back against the front door, his chest heaving, before he mechanically found his way to the fridge and snatched a can of beer. As he threw back the drink, he could already feel his sense of unease begin to ebb. So that was what was bothering him then? Fucking alky.
He grabbed two 6-packs and made his way to the chicken coop. His hens were fast asleep. Charlie’s little beak was tucked into her feathery back. He climbed the ladder to the hayloft and peered through the small window. In the distance, he could see the flickering yellow square of the Farmer’s bedroom window. There he remained — watching, waiting, drinking can after can — until the light turned off, signalling that his lover had retired to bed.
He often came up here at night to watch her window. Although he couldn’t see her from so far away, knowing she was there made him feel connected to her in some way. Sometimes he got hard imagining what she might be doing in her room, and he’d find himself absentmindedly rubbing a wet spot of precum on his trousers.
One evening, the light hadn’t come on in her room at all. Unable to rest without knowing she’d made it home safely, he’d grabbed a lantern and headed into town, searching for her. He finally found her on the path outside the carpenter’s house. She was passed out, covered in grime, and armed with a sword and pickaxe. He’d carried her himself to the JojaMart, where, in the early hours of the morning, Morris had loaded her limp body onto the company truck and taken her home — making sure to leave a hefty bill in her mailbox, of course.
Shane thought back to that night. He’d been filled with both worry and relief to find her on the ground like that. And despite his admittedly weird obsession with the Farmer, it hadn’t even crossed his mind to take advantage of her in that state. All he could think of at the time was her safety. It wasn’t just lust that he had for her: it was love.
Fuck, he loved her. He really loved her. Shane realised he was crying, and he didn’t know why.
***
He felt a bit better, albeit hungover, on Saturday morning as he climbed down from the hayloft where he’d fallen asleep. On a whim, he decided to whip up some crêpes. And he felt even better when he saw the smiles of his aunt and goddaughter as they entered the kitchen to smell of his cooking.
Shane snapped a picture of the kitchen table displaying a stack of crêpes, whipped cream, and a bowl of fresh fruit. He sent it off to the Farmer. I told you I could cook.
Half an hour later, she sent back a picture of her field, the soil freshly tilled. You’ve got to make me some when these strawberries come in.
It was a long day for both of them. While Shane was helping Jas with her model solar system project, the Farmer was repairing and expanding her irrigation system.
Shane finally had a moment to himself that evening, as he nursed a beer at the saloon. Vaguely aware that he had been avoiding her for some reason, he checked his phone. There was a voicenote from the Farmer, replying to a picture of the completed school project. He held his phone to his ear to listen, feeling butterflies as he heard her voice.
“I’m feeling too lazy to type so I’m just gonna send voicenotes. Anyway! Shaaaane, it looks really good! Kudos to you two!”
He texted back, Lol I’m still picking craft glue off my fingers. How was your day? You must be really tired.
“Yep, you have no idea. And my back is killing me. I’m gonna shower and head to bed in a few.” He could hear her yawn as she stretched.
Aw, sounds like someone needs a massage soon 👀 Good night you beautiful thing x
He stared curiously at the message he just sent her. It sounded so unlike him. He was no stranger to the world of DM sliding and latenight Snaps, but it had been a long time since he’d last spoken to a woman like that. Feeling self-conscious about his artificial-sounding text, he put his phone back into his pocket and ordered another beer.
At home later that evening, while microwaving some pizza rolls, his phone dinged on the kitchen table. He felt a familiar flutter of excitement when he saw her name pop up on the screen.
Shane opened the voicenote from the Farmer. "I'm going to bed now," it said. "I hope I locked the front door. It would be such a shame if my stalker neighbour were to enter my home and take advantage of me in my sleep. I'd hate for that to happen."
Meanwhile, back at the
ranch
farm, the Farmer was frantically trying to decide what scene she wanted Shane to walk in on. Every option seemed like the right one. Should she wear the expensive lingerie she’d been waiting for an opportunity to use? Or would Shane prefer her in a girl-next-door look, with an oversized T-shirt and no panties? Maybe she could even wear her most conservative pyjamas, juxtaposing the roughness with which he’d probably rip them off her. There was also the option to simply wear nothing at all, heightening the sense of vulnerability by having her bare skin exposed to any intruder as she slept.
She finally made her decision, lay down on her duvet, and pretended to be asleep. Bursting with anticipation, she could barely remain still as she waited for Shane to arrive. When she heard footsteps on her porch, she had to suppress a giggle of nervous delight.
She heard the sound of her front door opening and closing, and the footsteps coming closer. She quickly shut her eyes. The bedroom door creaked open, and she could feel some light being let in from the lounge. The footsteps stopped when he got to her bedside. And then: nothing.
She was about to open her eyes when suddenly she could feel Shane’s fingers tracing along her jaw. He grazed his thumb over her lips, before slipping his thumb between them. She could feel some of her spit being smeared over her bottom lip as he gently pressed down on it.
That same wet thumb found one of her nipples as his hands trailed down to her chest. He rubbed slow circles over her nipples with his thumbs and then gently squeezed her breasts, as if inspecting them for malleability. She heard him let out a heavy breath. By the sound of it, he was more than satisfied.
Shane was exploring her — using her — and he was taking his time with it. There was something incredibly hot about him casually doing as he pleased with her body.