The rage inside Shane Walsh was like a monster eating away at his insides. In fact, whatever goodness left in him was gone, having been consumed by the gaping maw of that beast he called rage. He could put on a smile. He could fake it like anyone else but he was a cold motherfucker. He had exactly two people he truly cared about, Lori and Carl, and Lori'd made it clear that both she and her son were off-limits to him. It didn't matter that he could understand why, understand her reasoning; all that mattered was he needed to find a way to either accept it—or take what he wanted—and to do that Rick was gonna have to die.

That was a problem for another day. Right now Shane's immediate concern was satisfying the erection that was seconds away from popping up in his khaki's. He could feel the need and soon enough that need would make its way into his dick and he'd be harder than stone. There weren't many options for him on the farm. Beth Greene was simply too young for his interests. Lori would scream bloody murder and go straight to Rick if he tried anything with her. Andrea was on guard duty, surrounded by Dale and Glenn. Maggie Greene was with Glenn and she'd go to her father which would get him, or possibly the whole group, booted from the farm right then. Patricia wasn't just too old for his liking, she was a grieving widow and looked like she'd have a cunt dry as dust.

Carol. She was all that was left. She was too old for his liking, too, but she wasn't grieving a husband. Her child, yes, and they may yet have a miracle and find Sophia, but Shane wasn't holding his breath on that one. As far as her pussy, well, she was more appealing to him than Patricia and he'd heard Ed on her a few times. She had been dry, no doubt, but only because she hated the man violating her.

Maybe she'd see Shane in a different light and turn out to have a nice juicy cunt for him to fuck.

"Carol, a word?"

She was hanging up laundry while the others were at target practice. Lori was off by the chicken coop feeding chickens and talking to Patricia.

"Something the matter?"

"Come here," he said, raking a hand over his head.

Curiosity killed the cat and now it was about to get Carol as well since she came right over to him, unsuspecting, automatically obeying his commanding tone of voice without thought thanks to years with an asshole like Ed Peletier. When he gripped her by the arm and shoved her into his tent she stumbled inside, a look of shock on her face that quickly shifted into knowing.

"Shhhh…" he said, seeing her look around the small tent for an escape route that simply didn't exist. "I ain't here to hurt you," he said kindly, kneeling down in front of Carol before he took her feet and yanked her toward him. He leaned over her, smelled her fear in her sweat. It was arousing. "Be quiet. Be still…I'll make it good for you."

"I need to get back to the laundry," she said meekly. That made Shane's cock stiffen. The meekness, the vulnerability, the pitiful excuse to try to escape. "I need to—"

"You need to be quiet."

"Shane, please…I don't want to."

He pressed himself forward, pushing her against the floor of the tent, onto his sleeping bag, shoving her shirt up before he plunged his tongue into her mouth for a quick taste. She'd been drinking lemonade. Her mouth still tasted of lemons. Sweet and sour at once.

"You will," he said, before undoing her pants and pulling them down. He slipped his hand down her underwear and found her dry. "All those years of fucking Ed you know how to give in to a man. Give in to me, Carol. Let me make it feel good. I can make you cum if you relax. If you just give in."

"Don't," she tried, and started squeezing her legs shut, doing all she could to inch away from his fingers which were very gently rubbing her pussy.

He'd intended to get her into the tent and take her whether she wanted him or not. This was about him, about satisfying his needs, but looking at her face, caught between youth and old age, with the lines of her elderly years coming in but still rounded in part with the fullness of youth, he wanted to make her want him. He wanted to both shame and satisfy her.

"You let Ed take you. You hated that man. Let me have you, Carol. I need it. I need to fuck so let me fuck you. Let yourself like it. It's okay to like it."

She shoved at him and he pushed her down. The tent was hot. God awful hot. They were both sweating in the stuffy, confined space. Shane actually took a dare, reached up and opened the flap that acted as a little window and a breeze blew in, feeling wonderfully cool against their flushed, sweaty skin.

"Call for help," he said, and gently thumbed her clit. "Or relax. Have some sex that ain't pure torture."

She moistened under his touch, slight at first, until he rubbed her pussy just over her clit, palmed it just right before he ran his fingers over her lips. A very light moan escaped her and she turned her head away in shame, her eyes squeezing shut even as her legs began to relax, and then open, while her pussy moistened even more.

"I really don't wanna hurt you," he said. "I wanna make you feel good."

He gripped her chin and turned her to face him before kissing her again, deeply, slowly, in a way Ed probably never had. He was hard, his cock aching with need, twitching eagerly to sink into a warm wet cunt. When he removed is hand Carol deflated, partly from relief, partly from disappointment. She wasn't sure, it was clear to see, if he was playing games with her or if he was serious.

The answer to how serious he was came when he pulled off his shirt, unbuckled his pants, and let his hard, heavy cock fall free in the humid, stuffy confines of the tent. Her pants were down to her knees and this time she didn't object when he finished pulling them off.

"You know what to do with a dick, Carol," he said quietly.

He took her hand in his, guided it to his dick, wrapped her fingers around it. At first her touch was slack, unwilling, her eyes looking at his thighs, but as he stroked his length with her hand Carol's gaze slid slowly up until she saw him in her hand, and she tightened her grip of her own accord, accepting that this was happening, that part of her wanted it while part of her didn't. The part of her that didn't want anything to do with Shane was slowly losing ground, he could feel it in the way she looked at him with reluctant lust in her eyes.

Then she released him and leaned back, trying to tug her shirt down.

"No, no, no. No time to be shy."

"Shane—"

He was gonna lose her interest fast if he didn't hurry. He wanted to take his time while he had it, while the others were busy, away, but Carol had more fight in her than he thought.

"Shhhh…"

If he was gonna get her while she was still at least a little willing he was going to have to do it fast. He shoved up her shirt and took an appraising glance at her. Carol still had a nice rack. He'd have to give her that much. There was some middle age spread around her hips but nothing that had gone ugly. Nothing that would soften his hard cock.

"That's right, nice and easy, just relax," he said, putting himself at her entrance. Very slowly, very gently, he pushed and felt her body give to him. She was tight, almost virgin tight, but her walls were wet and when he was fully seated she had a look of pleasure and pain, mixed together so smoothly one literally didn't exist without the other, and he moan that slipped from her was as equally sweet as the look on her face.

He was hurting her.

He was pleasuring her.

Very gently Shane withdrew, eased back in, and withdrew before he seated himself to his balls inside her. He rocked slowly, moving his hips almost imperceptibly, until he felt her juices beginning to soak his dick and she was panting.

"Oh, God…" she whispered.

He could see from her face that she liked the pain. He could feel in the way she was meeting his hips she wanted more of him, even as her eyes were filled with loathing, with fear, with uncertainty. He was making her do this, he'd taken her choice to say no away from her, but at the same time he was making her like it and she resented him for it. She resented every thrust, every traitorous cry that fell from her lips, every whimper to his grunts of greedy need. She resented how she came, how her body clenched him, how her toes curled and her back arched and her hands gripped his back and scratched at his sides as she rode wave after wave of deepest pleasure.

When it was over she pulled on her panties, pulled up her pants, fixed her shirt, and crawled from his tent with tears on her face. She wiped hastily at them and took a few deep breaths of the hot but breezy air outside Shane's tent. He followed her out and walked over to the pump and splashed cold water. Now was the time to tell what Carol would do next. Lori approached with Patricia, and Shane watched as she put on a smile and went on to hang laundry.

She wasn't going to tell but she would, Shane knew, let him take her again.

And he probably would.