Shane Walsh was the most infuriating man Daryl had ever met in his life. Unfortunately, he had never fancied anyone as much as Shane, either.

The last few nights, lying in his tent out in the middle of the fields, feeling lonely, restless and despondent, Daryl's thoughts had invariably returned to Shane. It would always start the same way: He'd see the sneer on Shane's face as clearly as if the man was standing right in front of him. Could see the other man's disapproval of him, his judgement, the I know your kinda scum look on his face.

Next, in Daryl's increasingly frantic imagination, Shane would come at him with that fierce look, that calculating gaze, zeroing in on Daryl, noting his every move, reading his every shameful thought. He'd pin Daryl down with his eyes, back him against the wall of the farm house, or the barn, or the RV, making it impossible for Daryl to move before he was even close enough to touch.

When the contact came it was hard and fast. Daryl could feel himself slammed into wood or metal, arms pinned down by his side by calloused hands. The rest was always hazy in Daryl's mind, just impressions of hands yanking at clothes, muscular limbs pressing in, cutting off air, fingers penetrating roughly.

Then Daryl would come in his own hand, always, always with a small sob, feeling ashamed. Not because he got off on thinking about another man, but because even in his own fantasies he was only ever good enough to be hurt.

_._

"Why're ya followin' me?"

Daryl could feel the other's gaze prickling on his neck, but didn't look around. His heart was beating fast, and he had to fight the urge to just bolt and run. He could hear Shane sigh.

"Rick said to keep an eye on you so you wouldn't pull any more stupid ass shit, and since you won't stay put I have to trek around this fucking forest after a fucking piece of redneck scum. Ain't my idea of fun, either."

Daryl's face burned, he could feel tears prickling in the corners of his eyes. He was used to being sneered at by cops, dismissed as a piece of trash. But to not be trusted out alone in the woods, when this was where he knew what he was doing, the only place he'd ever felt at home, was hurtful. He blinked away the impending tears and tried to put Shane out of his mind, concentrating on the ground in front of him.

After ten minutes he knew it was no good. He stopped, waited for Shane to catch up. When the other man stopped about fifteen yards away he half turned.

"If ya gotta come with, at least don' stomp around like a fuckin' grizzly."

Shane snorted, covering the remaining distance between them. "Don't take that tone with me, you piece of shit." Shane was clearly playing cop, and to Daryl that only left one role for him to assume. He turned around fully, looking at Shane directly, willing him to get angry.

"You clever city cops, y'all have no fuckin' clue, d'you? No idea how to find one little girl, but you gotta butt in an' make sure no one else finds her, neither…"

Next moment Daryl was transplanted into his nightly fantasy. His back slammed into a nearby tree, shoulder blades digging hard into the wood. Daryl let out a surprised gasp, struggling to get free. Just as in his imagination large, strong hands pinned his arms down by his side. The grip was much rougher than in Daryl's fantasy, and Shane's fingers encircled his wrists like iron, held his hands down hard.

"You like that, huh? This what you dream about, out there on your own?"

It was as if Shane had been reading his mind. Panic bubbling up now, Daryl doubled his efforts to get free, but Shane was too strong. He closed the last remaining inches between them, pressing his body hard against Daryl.

"I see how you look at me, Dixon." Shane's voice was husky, but there was no warmth to it. "I know what those looks mean, I get them all the time, from women, men…" He put his face very close to Daryl's.

"I am not picky, you see. Normally I don't go for rednecks, but I'll make an exception here, to teach you a lesson, if nothing else."

Daryl had stopped struggling. He could feel Shane's erection press against him, and he could feel his own body responding. He didn't want it to, was not prepared to let this happen for real, but Shane was too strong, he couldn't pull away.

With a sudden movement Shane stepped back, twisting Daryl's arm hard and forcing him to turn around. Daryl couldn't suppress a small outcry as a searing pain shot through his shoulder, his arm uncomfortably pinned against his back. Shane slammed him into the tree hard, Daryl's chest and temple making sudden contact with hard wood.

Daryl could hear a zipper being pulled down behind him, and the heavy drop of Shane's police belt on the ground. Shane pressed in again, his arousal unmistakable. He reached a hand round the front of Daryl and unbuttoned his pants. Daryl was too stunned to really struggle now, but he wanted to be away from this more than anything. At the same time his own erection was pressing into the tree painfully.

There was one none too gentle yank and Daryl's pants and boxers pooled around his knees. Daryl didn't think Shane would bother with any foreplay, but he was wrong. He could feel the other man's breathing on his neck, and then lips and teeth, exploring, warm and wet.

Then Shane bit down hard, and Daryl cried out with surprise as much as with pain. In his fantasies Shane sometimes bit him, too, but the reality was a lot more painful and a lot less pleasant. The next bite came on the biceps of the arm Shane still held twisted in an iron grip.

"No. Shane, what…"

Ignoring Daryl's pleading Shane obviously decided that he needed both hands now, and that Daryl wouldn't fight back any longer. He let go of Daryl's arm, and Daryl brought it round front, cradling it to his chest and hissing when the pins and needles hit.

Daryl could hear Shane spitting into his hand. He knew what was coming next, and braced himself against the tree. He could feel Shane's hands on his ass, spreading him apart. Next, there was a finger pressing against his opening, and Daryl sucked in air with a hiss.

Shane's finger entered, none too gently, but bearable. Daryl tried to relax, tried to accommodate the intrusion, but Shane gave him no time to get used to the sensation. A second finger entered, and then a third, and Daryl briefly lost track of things as the pain narrowed his universe down to a single point.

The fingers kept exploring, and Shane pressed close to Daryl again. He could feel his hot breath, and he could hear the malice in Shane's voice. "You enjoy that, yeah? Like a good little redneck whore."

Daryl dropped his head and hid his face against the tree. The truth was that his body was responding just like it did in his fantasies. He was powerless to control himself, and the shame of it all burned a scar deep into his heart.

There was more spitting behind him, then the fingers withdrew. Daryl only just suppressed a whimper of disappointment at the sudden loss of contact. But then he could feel Shane's cock press against him instead, and his longing for contact turned back to terror.

Shane entered him without any regard to Daryl's comfort. This time, Daryl's cry was much louder, as pain shot up through him like lightning, setting his spine and pelvis on fire. Suddenly a hand was on his throat, squeezing hard.

"Be quiet, Dixon, or you'll regret it. Understood?"

Daryl nodded, not getting enough air to be able to speak. The hand on his throat slackened somewhat and Daryl gasped. Shane did not take his hand away, however, and instead pulled Daryl backwards into his chest, as he thrust into him again and again. To stop from screaming again Daryl bit his lower lip until it bled.

Shane's thrusts became faster, the breathing against Daryl's neck ragged. Daryl reached for his own erection, to take his mind off the pain as much as anything else, but Shane noticed and let go of Daryl's neck. Instead, both hands closed on Daryl's wrists again and forced his hands above his head. He now pushed Daryl back against the tree, until his entire body was pressed against the bark, hands pinned in place.

"You will not get yourself off, Dixon." Shane's voice was more menacing than ever. "This is punishment, not pleasure."

And he pushed into Daryl harder and deeper than before, making the other man whimper with renewed pain.

Daryl could tell it wouldn't be long now. Shane's thrusts were becoming more and more frantic. He blinked away tears and closed his eyes, willing his mind to go blank.

With a shudder and a groan Shane pushed in one more time with all his strength, then was still, letting the ecstasy wash over him. Daryl could feel the other's cock pulsing inside him for a few more seconds, then there was one last stab of pain as Shane pulled out.

Daryl was suddenly free of Shane's body and hands. He didn't move for a minute or so, waiting for the ripples of pain to die away.

"C'mon. Let's get back."

Shane's voice was gruff but no longer full of malice. Daryl reached down to pull his pants up, noticing that he was still hard. It was painful to adjust himself back into his clothes, but after the onslaught his body had just suffered the discomfort was hardly worth noticing. When he'd buttoned his pants and turned around Shane had already started walking back into the direction of the farm.

Daryl followed slowly at a distance.