Tremor

Soft rays of sun filtered through Hershel's living room window, illuminating the glass Rick held between his fingers; the amber whiskey filling it seemed to warm in the light. The marked stillness of the house was unsettling. He hadn't intended to drink, but when he'd entered the kitchen his eyes had fallen upon the cabinet where Carol hid her stash, and the knowledge of its contents coaxed him to open a bottle. It had been months, so many months, since he'd savored the bittersweet burn of alcohol. Carol had pulled him aside a few times, whispering offers of a small drink to ease his tangible stress, but Rick had never been able to accept the idea of a state other than hypervigilance. Today, however, with half the others gone on an easy supply run and a few left to watch the fields, he reluctantly allowed himself a few moments of solitude. He craved a chance to breathe; he needed time to brace himself for the terrible blow he knew was coming.

Shane. Just the thought of his name nearly sent Rick crumpling to the floor. He hadn't been able to think of much else for weeks. The man was unraveling before his eyes, and he seemed set on pushing away anyone who tried to hold him together. Every evening he paced the house into the late hours of the night; Rick had tried to end it, tried to tell him he was scaring Carl, tried to talk it through, but Shane only pushed him away with silent glares. He was on the verge of snapping, closer than Rick had ever seen him, even closer than the agonizing days on the force when they'd lost three officers in one week. Rick found himself watching Shane constantly and feeding off his nervous energy; he knew he felt isolated, even hated by the others, but who could blame them? Shane was a ticking time bomb in a world that was already set to implode, and they wanted to hold on to every speck of safety they had left.

Yet, Rick found himself holding onto Shane, wracking his brain for the words to bring him back from whatever hell he'd entered. He was the first thing he thought about when he woke, and the last thing he brooded over before he attempted to sleep, though true slumber was nearly impossible next to Lori's bitter presence. She hadn't spoken to him since he'd confronted her about the abortion pills, and he had privately acknowledged that their precarious relationship was at an end. He feared what could grow between her and Shane, but it was the thought of losing Shane, not her, that set his teeth on edge. She was already gone, had been gone a long time, but a piece of Shane was still hanging on by a thread. God, he'd do anything to keep that thread from snapping, to mend that wordless connection that flowed so effortlessly between them. After everything they'd been through, he couldn't just lose him again. Not like this. Not like this. Rick sighed and took a deep swig from his drink.

Suddenly, the back door flew open and hit the wall with enough force to crack a skull. He jumped violently, sloshing the whiskey and soaking the front of his shirt. Bewildered, he stared at the glass before looking up to see Beth standing before him. Her eyes were wide and anxious.

"Beth? What is it?"

"It's Shane," she said; her voice was tremulous, "He's trying to fight Dale. Carol and Andrea can't stop him. Carl's trying to talk him down. We're scared."

"Where?"

"By the barn."

"Stay here. Don't leave the house." Rick jumped to his feet, dropping the glass on the floor. The door stood open behind him. He ran for it, nearly falling through and stumbling onto the porch.

"Shane!"

The name rang out across the sun soaked field as Rick sprinted toward the old barn, praying to no one in particular for strength he hadn't felt in weeks. Beads of sweat rolled down his brow as he squinted at the blurry figures in front of him; two were grappling viciously on the soil while others crowded around, crying out in panic. His son's voice was among them. Rick lowered his head and grunted as he increased his speed, his breath hitching with every step that pounded into the ground beneath him.

"Shane!" he rasped out once more, finally closing the last few feet and skidding to a halt at the heart of the scuffle. His friend was bent over Dale, savagely pushing the barrel of a rifle against the elderly man's throat. Dale's skin was flushed crimson and steadily deepening in color with every passing moment. Rick lunged for Shane's wrist and was smacked away with enough force to send him stumbling backwards, momentarily stunned. Carl and Andrea burst out with violent protests. He kept his back to them, eyes locked on Shane's trembling hands. He hadn't seen that tremor since the night that Carl was shot.

"Stay out of this, Rick!" Shane's gaze never once left the bulging eyes of the man beneath him. Dale began choking; it was a terrible, guttural sound and Rick's mind flooded with flashing images of salivating, moaning Walkers. He had a brief vision of Dale, brown eyes glossed over, pale lips oozing crimson liquid, lurching toward him, clawing, reaching… Shaking his head with a vigorous snap, Rick inhaled deeply before rocking back and heaving his fist toward Shane's rigid jaw. The thud of flesh meeting flesh resounded through the air, but Shane swiftly recovered his balance, pausing only to release a string of vehement curses. It wasn't enough. Dale's cheeks began to spot with purple; a thin string of drool dripped from the corner of his open mouth. A high pitched scream from behind pierced the air. Rick turned to see Andrea fighting Carol and Carl with all her strength, straining to free herself and get to Shane. There would be deadly trouble if she did.

"Goddamn it, Shane!" Rick roared, drawing back a few paces to prepare for another blow, "Do not do this, brother!"

"He wants me to die!"

"I don't give a damn!"

With his final word, Rick thrust himself forward, propelling every ounce of his weight into Shane's rib cage. The impact knocked the air from his lungs, and the pair flew backward in a tangle of flailing limbs, rolling over and over until Rick finally managed to struggle back to his feet. A vein bulged in Shane's temple as he reached up to grab Rick's arm, nearly dragging him back to the dirt below. Rick grunted, jamming his elbow viciously downward and striking bone, but Shane hardly seemed to feel it; he was no match for Shane, not after the hellish stress that had been plaguing him since the moment they set foot on Hershel's farm. Each movement pushed Rick back an inch, forcing him to dig his heels into the ground. Andrea, Carl, and Carol began to drag Dale through the dust towards his trailer, looking fearfully over their shoulders. Dale's eyes were closed and his mouth hung slightly ajar.

"I'll kill him!" Shane shouted, clenching his fists, "I have to!"

Rick ignored this and shoved Shane, catching him by surprise and forcing him backwards towards the mouth of the barn. Their steps shuffled clumsily as they fought for control; finally, Shane tore an arm from Rick's grasp and swung, knocking Rick in the side of the head and sending them both falling into the barn. Pain bloomed across Rick's skull, blinding him, making his vision swim with shades of black and red. The doors swung and clattered shut behind them.

Shane yanked him to his feet by the collar of his shirt, forcing their foreheads together. Rick groaned. His eyes opened groggily and met Shane's black, hardened gaze; an icy trickle of dread seemed to slide down into the pit of his abdomen. The fabric around his neck tightened as Shane lifted him slightly off the ground, emitting what sounded like a low, rumbling growl. Rick moaned again in pain, but Shane only grimaced before slamming him against the barn wall; the old wooden boards rattled in response, jarring the knobs of his spine. He felt Shane's calloused fingers close around his wrists and pin them above his head, making any worthwhile movement impossible. The heat from their bodies burned between them. Shifting uncomfortably, Rick tugged at his captured hands but Shane jerked them higher still, glowering darkly at him.

"I had him. I had him, Rick, and you fucked it all up. Damn it, why don't you ever mind your own motherfucking business?"

"Killing Dale is my motherfucking business."

"No, it ain't," Shane pressed into him, his forearm tight against Rick's throat. Rick coughed and jerked feebly under him. He furrowed his brow desperately in a wordless plea for peace, but Shane ignored his efforts, lowering his stare to Rick's heaving chest. "You can't always control things around here, Rick. You just don't get it. You never do. You don't know what it's like. I need… I need it."

"What do you need?" Rick said hoarsely, cocking his head to catch Shane's glare.

"I need to stop feeling. I need to pound something into the ground. I need to do this; take it out on someone. He treats me like a rabid dog and I just can't hear it no more, man, I just can't… "

His words trailed off weakly. The sound of their panting filled the silence of the old barn. Rick was speechless, his mind spinning too much to formulate an adequate response. Gingerly, he rolled his head from side to side, feeling the joints in his neck crack with delicious relief. With some surprise, he noticed Shane's dark eyes trailing his movements and lingering over the bare space of his shoulder where his shirt had torn open. The realization made unwelcome color rush to his cheeks. Suddenly, he was far too aware of the contours of Shane's hips that were molded to his own. The feeling was strikingly gratifying and Rick bit down on his lip in resentful agitation.

"Take it out on me," he muttered. His voice cracked mid-sentence and he cringed, hating himself for the slip.

Shane froze, his grip loosening slightly.

"What did you say?"

"You heard me," Rick spat, his face unmistakably flushed, "Best we get this over with now, before you tear into me in front of the others. You know you're gonna have to put me down before you can get to Dale. Go on. Give it a try."

"Man, you'd better shut your mouth."

"Yeah? Why don't you make me?"

Before Rick could blink his face was against the wall; Shane was clasping his jaw in one hand and tightly holding the back of his neck with the other. He felt hot breath against his ear as Shane leaned forward, his lips brushing against Rick's throat for a brief moment.

"There's a lot of things I'd like to make you do."

Rick swallowed hard, feeling his pulse throb beneath Shane's fingertips.

"Fuck y-"

Abruptly, he gasped as Shane began to tear the shirt from his back; the worn fabric shredded within moments and Shane yanked the tatters from his waistband, tossing them to the floor. Rick flinched at the rush of cold air against his skin, but a warm pool of heat was beginning to spread through him.

"Shane," he protested, twisting to try and get a look behind him. There was a sharp clinking noise, and Rick glanced down to see Shane fumbling with the buckle of his belt. He stared, spellbound, feeling himself hardening as Shane worked at his clasp; a few agonizingly slow moments passed before it snapped open. Shane cast the belt aside and deftly unbuttoned Rick's jeans, shoving them down to his ankles along with his underwear. There was nothing left to conceal him. Inhaling sharply at the sight of him, Shane pushed closer, pressing his stiff cock flush against Rick's thigh. Rick gritted his teeth against the sound that threatened to escape him, but he couldn't help releasing a faint sigh. The noise was conspicuous, far too conspicuous, and Shane's hold tightened further, nearly bruising him. Rick tensed, bucking slightly beneath Shane's weight, but Shane seized his growing erection and began stroking with steady jerks, sending unbridled shocks of pleasure rippling through him.

Overcome, Rick closed his eyes, no longer resisting the grip that held him in place. He arched his back, numb to all but the exquisite rhythm of Shane's hand. The very notion of his own vulnerability was maddening; he felt an overwhelming wave of desire wash over him, burning his insides, making him thrust helplessly forward. Shane groaned in response, squeezing Rick's arousal tightly before turning aside to spit into his palm. Rick stopped short at the sound, hardly daring to breathe, but before he could utter a word Shane's fingers were sliding inside of him and all rational thought dissolved from his mind.

Any pretense of defiance was futile. Rick slumped against the wall, immobilized by a strange mixture of disbelief and terrible need. In the time they'd known each other, Shane had touched him in countless ways; amiable slaps on the shoulder, sobering embraces in dark hours, even a few sharp punches to his jaw, but this kind of touch… this was the kind of touch he'd only dared to envision in the most private recess of his beaten mind. This was the kind of touch he'd tried to convince himself was an impossibility, an abomination, yet the thought of it had never failed to make him shudder with undeniable longing. His breath was coming now in short, heaving gasps as Shane moved his fingers steadily in and out of him. The warmth in his abdomen was unbearable; he whimpered softly.

"Fuck," Shane breathed, pressing his lips to the back of Rick's neck. Rick could sense the effort of his restraint; he felt it in the way Shane's hands clutched at him, struggling not to give in and ravage him without open invitation.

"Just do it," Rick murmured, rolling his hips. Shane roughly kissed the side of his jaw. There was a moment's pause as he positioned the head of his cock and Rick flinched, wincing slightly as he pushed in just the slightest bit. A sudden shock of pain shot through him; he sucked in a breath. Shane froze and Rick sensed he was gauging his reaction.

"I'm ok."

Shane squeezed his shoulder and leaned forward, offering Rick his hand. Rick took it, biting down hard on the side of his palm until Shane hissed in pain. He edged forward, easing himself slowly further inside of Rick, stopping only when they were pressed flat against each other. Rick closed his eyes, forcing himself to tolerate the burning discomfort as Shane let out a slow, shaky breath behind him. They stood there for a few moments, overwhelmed, before Shane seized his waist and began to move in a way that left them both breathless.

Rick's jaw slackened as Shane thrust, his hips jerking slowly but steadily as they moved rhythmically together. He'd never felt such a delicious lack of control. They had been living in a constant state of rigidity, always ready for another horror of their waking nightmare, but Shane held him now in firm submission. He didn't dare look back, didn't want Shane to see how much he needed this; a blissful sensation deep within him was steadily intensifying and making him desperate with lust. He felt Shane grasp his cock and nearly cried out in relief.

Shane began to ride him harder, pounding into him roughly so that Rick nearly stumbled. He caught himself against the barn wall and stole a quick glance behind him, but Shane hardly seemed to notice; sweat was beading on his brow, his face was flushed, and he was biting his lip so harshly he had drawn blood. Rick quickly dropped his gaze, his own face reddening at the sight of Shane's pleasure. He could practically feel the rageful tension melting from him with each thrust. It was all too much. Panting raggedly, he fell back against Shane, who caught him and held him fast against his chest as he quickened their pace. Rick gasped, writhing as Shane fucked him relentlessly.

"Please, I can't…" He tossed his head back, groaning deeply as satisfaction pulsed through him like electricity, exploding at last into Shane's hand. Shane moaned, raking his nails down Rick's chest as he came hard inside of him, his hips erratically thrusting against Rick's until they both fell to their knees in the dust.

A few long moments passed in silence, neither of them wanting to disturb the mindless relief that penetrated the atmosphere. Rick looked down and noticed that Shane was still tightly gripping his wrists. He coughed pointedly. Shane released them immediately with a sheepish expression; he cleared his throat.

"Rick, I… uh…"

"Don't," Rick said, raising a hand to cut him off. "Just don't."

"But -"

"Just promise me one thing."

Shane glanced up at him from under dark eyelashes; the look in his eyes made him look like an earnest boy, a rare sight that Rick had always, always loved. Rick stared for a moment and then swallowed hard, forcing himself to look away so he could recollect his train of thought.

"Next time you feel like killin' somebody," He poked a finger into Shane's chest, "You come to me first."

A wide grin split across Shane's face, wholly capturing Rick's gaze once again.

"I can do that."