"You guys are getting quite a bit done," Denise said, walking around the kitchen with Beth and noticing the small changes and the big mess.

It was bright and early, and after the last two mornings of Beth drinking her coffee alone, with Shane at work, she'd settled for inviting Denise instead. They sat down at the table, along with Patricia, the three ladies discussing Beth's accomplishments over a warm cup of joe.

"Did I tell you about the cabinets?" Beth asked.

"Yes," the other two women replied in unison.

Beth just shrugged, knowing she'd talked of little else, but she was excited about their projects and figured it was a better topic of conversation than anything else happening in her life. Shane had been at work for the last two days. Two days on, three days off, three days on, two days off - Beth had been forced to learn a deputy's schedule. He'd also forced his phone number on her, with some fake huffing and puffing thrown in for effect, after coming home after his first day back and realizing Beth had grinded to halt without him. She'd had questions, he'd had answers, and now whenever she couldn't do something he was only a few rings away. He'd swear she wasn't bothering him whenever he answered and Beth attempted to make her inquiries short, though sometimes he'd stay on the line long enough to talk her through whatever it was.

At night, they were back at it together. He'd leave way too late for a man that had to wake up at 5am but Beth didn't have it in her to quit earlier, she wanted the job done and after an entire day spent doing it alone, it was nice to hear his feedback. Shane always had plenty.

"Speaking of these cabinets, what do you think about a dinner this Sunday?" Patricia asked Beth, finishing her drink. "Before the two of you come and change everything, we give the kitchen one last hoorah?"

"I guess," Beth agreed, not sure if she liked the sound of a last hoorah very much. It reminded her too much of her dad who laid upstairs.

"We can ask pastor Gabriel to stay, he always comes on Sunday afternoons. Denise, of course you're invited too."

"I'd love to but I actually have plans. I mean... unless I can bring a friend."

"Of course you can bring a friend, honey," Patricia told her.

Beth turned towards Denise, never missing a beat, not even the hesitance that had been in Denise's voice.

"Who's the friend?" Beth asked, eyeing the other girl suspiciously.

It took Denise a second to answer, her eyes looking anywhere but at them.

"My girlfriend? Her name is Tara."

Beth and Patricia exchanged glances, both of them smiling at their friend.

"Sweetie pie, no one cares if you like girls," Patricia spoke. "Hell, sometimes I wish I had. Men are more trouble than worth."

The humor wasn't lost and after they shared an understanding smile, Patricia went on.

"Please, bring your girlfriend. Maybe I'll invite my grandbabies too. The more the merrier. Well, unless you're a Republican then you're uninvited."

"No, not a Republican," Denise added, some of her apprehension beginning to fade as she realized she was getting a warm reception. "Just a lesbian. I just wasn't sure, ya know...Hershel always seemed like a conservative man, and this is the south. I guess I should've known better considering he invited Shane Walsh to live with him."

Beth nodded in agreement, still shocked herself that Hershel had agreed to letting Shane stay there. Her dad had never been a bigot but he'd had little patience for womanizers. She'd always assumed it was because he was raising two girls.

"You'd be surprised," Patricia said, getting up to pour another cup of coffee. "I think he saw a bit of himself in the man."

The comment didn't go unnoticed by Beth but she had no time to say anything, Patricia was forging ahead with her dinner plans.

"Speaking of which, make sure you tell him to come around on Sunday," the older woman said. "We've been working him like a mule. Well, you have at least. I don't think I've seen him walk right in a week."

Beth's confusion about Patricia's previous statement was now replaced with a twinge of guilt at her last. There was nothing in it for him, not even big dollar signs when the farm finally sold, if anything it was exactly the opposite. And yet, he came everyday without kicking up a single fuss. And Patricia was right, the poor guy had been walking like a man twice his age.

She ignored the instinct that said he wouldn't want to come and agreed with Patricia. Yes, she'd make sure he was invited, it was the least they could do.

Food was planned, a grocery list was made, and by the time Denise left she actually had to check on Hershel one more time, staying all the way until her afternoon visit. Once it was all said and done, Beth didn't feel quite as uneasy about the whole thing. It would feel good to have company over, even if it was a small goodbye she wasn't quite ready for, and who knew, maybe the good vibes would be good for her dad.

After a few hours of cleaning and paying Hershel a visit, Beth left the farm with her eyes on the hardware store. They were running out of WD-40 and a few other things, objects Beth wanted for when Shane got home so they could get straight to business. She considered calling ahead and asking that he pick it up instead of wasting the gas and time but ultimately decided he could probably use a break from her pestering him.

Her visit this time around was much different. Merle Dixon was nowhere to be found so Beth took her time getting what she needed and a few things she didn't. Every part of her body was dying to start picking out paint colors for every room, but she held off, settling on new light fixtures instead. After spending far too much time in the aisles, Beth finally got a move on it, her leadfoot determined to beat Shane home.

It wasn't even 15 minutes later that she parked on the side of the road, her tire flat, and her skin already starting to burn. Twenty minutes later, she still hadn't managed to get the old tire off and the new tire on and Beth was cursing enough to justify a lightning bolt coming down and striking her. Hershel had taught his girls to change tires and he'd always kept a spare and jack in the truck, but none of that changed that the lug nuts were stuck like glue and no amount of elbow grease was getting them to budge.

When no one drove by and offered their assistance after ten more tries, Beth kicked the tire and cursed herself for pulling the phone out or her back pocket. He was probably on his home anyway. She hated calling him again but at the same time, her skin was turning a lobster-style shade of red and being parked on just the edge of town meant he'd probably be the first person to drive by anyway.

It took less than three rings for him to answer.

"What, no tickets to write today?" She asked the moment he answered, surprised at how quickly he'd picked up.

They'd moved past formal hellos.

"What, break something while I was gone?"

"Just the truck. Actually, I didn't break it, the giant nail in the road did. I've got a flat."

"I'm comin'."

"You don't have to rush," Beth told him, giving the lug wrench one last effort, wishing it'd turn.

"See you in a minute."

She was about to object, to tell him to take his time and apologize if she'd interrupted anything but by the time she stood and looked up, his cruiser was already pulling behind the truck. The guilt faded as her smile grew.

"Nice. You could've said you were already here," Beth told him the moment Shane stepped out, still in his uniform.

"What and miss that look on your face?"

"I felt bad for calling you again."

Shane just shrugged, already assessing the situation.

"Trust me when I say that I've had plenty worse reasons for people to call me."

Beth had no trouble believing him and let the topic go.

"So what's up?"

"The lugs are stuck," Beth admitted.

"You sure?"

It took every amount of self control for Beth not to kick the tire again when this time, Shane took a try instead, spinning the wrench with ease.

"That's unfair," she settled for saying instead. "Now I just feel pathetic."

"Don't worry about it," he told her with a grin. "Why don't you go sit in my car while I do this? Cool off. You look like a lobster."

"Thanks, I had no idea," she replied, but Beth knew he was just giving her a hard time. Especially judging by the grin he flashed as he tossed his keys.

Maybe it was the cold air blasting her in the face, sweet relief found in the driver's seat of his cruiser, but Beth felt highly aware of every movement Shane made as she watched him through the window. Or perhaps it was also that twinge of guilt. His uniform khakis had grass stains, his brown hair was closer to black when it was soaked in perspiration, and his strong hands were covered in dirt. Beth watched him mumble a few words to himself, no doubt the same variety of curses she'd used, as he tightened the new tire back on.

It took him less time to change her tire than it had taken Beth to realize she couldn't.

"Thanks," she told him when he was finished, coming back out to help him throw the old tire and jack in the bed of the truck.

"Not a problem, I was coming home anyway."

Beth nodded and in that beat of silence when neither of them made a move to walk away, Beth remembered Patricia's words from before, figuring it didn't hurt to ask.

"You wanna grab something to eat?" She asked, surprising herself.

She'd meant to invite him to Sunday dinner, but the words were out, and he didn't immediately object.

"Like in town?" He asked, his face giving way his feelings about spending time in town, not that she needed reminding.

"Yeah, why not?"

She searched his face and could see a thousand reasons why not but to her surprise, he simply nodded.

"You know what? Fine. But I pick the place."

At some point between Beth asking and Shane answering, he'd decided to just say fuck it and cave into her request. What didn't kill him could only make him wish he was dead and he highly doubted anything anyone could say to him would be that extreme. He'd been craving a big, fat, greasy burger and he knew just the one, his cruiser leading the way while Beth followed him back through the streets he'd just left. Months had gone by without Shane stepping into the place but now was as good a time as any, especially when sitting down in the AC was involved.

Greasy Abe's sat in the back of an old plaza, a glorified bar that served the best burgers and coldest beer in town. It had been his old stomping grounds before shit had gone down, his typical stop when Rick wasn't in tow. Lori didn't approve of drinking and she especially didn't approve of drinking around loose women. For the first time in his life Shane had no interest in the women, just the food and the beer.

"You sure about this?" Shane asked.

They'd both parked in two spots in the rear, side by side, and Shane was busy ditching his gun belt and uniform shirt before going in. It wasn't a secret that he was a cop but the uniform was a reminder he didn't want. If two good old country boys started fighting Shane didn't want people expecting him to do something. He just wanted to relax, if such a thing was possible.

"Sure about... eating? Believe it or not I've done it before," Beth answered, proving once again she was just as much a smartass as him.

"That ain't what I mean. You walk in there with me, people will talk. Hell, they'll talk if I go in there alone but they're gonna talk more if I'm not."

"And?"

"And do you not remember that run in with Merle? It's just the beginning."

"I'm a big girl, I can handle it."

Shane glanced over her, from head to toe and back up again, failing to see the big part. He was positive a girl her size would crush under his weight, not that he'd considered it.

They were still standing in the parking lot, Shane had just shut his gun in the trunk and locked it, neither making a move to walk in yet.

"Suit yourself," he told her. "But when you start hearing whispers around that I'm...defiling you or some shit, don't say I didn't tell you so."

"Defiled?" Beth asked, fighting a laugh.

"Yeah it means-"

"Oh, I know what it means. I just didn't realize people still said it. What? Are you worried my daddy won't be able to trade me for a cow when my good reputation has been sullied?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Shane, I spent the last four years at UGA, you really don't think I can handle some gossip? Or better yet, some defiling? I'll have you know I was defiled many times over before you came along and anyone in there that thinks otherwise is an idiot."

Shane's mind was about to do that thing again, where it went to places it shouldn't but Beth was already walking away, ignoring his next question.

"Wait...what do you mean many times?"

She never even answered, not even when Shane managed to catch up and repeat himself.

The inside of Abe's was lively and but thanks to Beth's comment, Shane was capable of ignoring the fact that every pair of eyes tracked the two of them move towards a booth at the back. It was the usual crowd with a lot of familiar faces sitting at the bar, a few drunk rednecks on the dance floor, and a bunch of bikers playing pool. He heard a few people holler his name but he was too busy sliding his aching body across from Beth's where a girl had already appeared with a tray.

"You still drinking Miller?" The young girl asked.

Shane faintly remembered her name, Rosita, and to a lesser degree, remembered rolling her around in the sheets a time or two. Neither of which he felt like remembering. Instead he just gave a simple nod.

"And you?"

"Beck's if you have it," Beth answered. "If not Miller will do."

"You guys eating?"

Shane ordered himself the biggest cheeseburger they served, one with everything on it minus the mayo and Beth requested the same thing. By the time Rosita strutted away, Shane was still staring at Beth, a hand rubbing through his hair.

"What?" She asked.

"Beck's? Really?"

"What's wrong with Beck's?"

"I unno, sounds like some college girl drink. A college girl that likes to get defiled."

By that point Shane was just giving her shit to distract himself from the watchful eyes and Beth didn't appear to mind. Her arms were crossed over her chest but there was no denying the smirk on her face.

"You're really hung up on that, huh?"

"It doesn't exactly match the description of you I've heard," Shane admitted, cutting past the bullshit.

"Well, your fixation on it certainly matches your description."

When Rosita brought their drinks Shane was laughing. The beer was cold and when Beth offered a taste of hers, Shane took a careful sip, pretended it was terrible but made a mental note to order one for the next round.

"So what have you heard?" Beth asked. "My description?"

"Just stuff your dad told me. Maggie too."

"Such as?"

"Such as you were going to school to be a vet, like him. And you loved your farm. And you were a Daddy's girl."

Beth shrugged, taking a long draw off her bottle.

"Sounds about right. I am a Daddy's girl, I was going to practice with him, and I do love the farm."

"Then why sell it?"

"It's not that easy."

Both of their beers were halfway gone and Shane was relaxing quickly. His body had been begging for the break and the alcohol. There was nothing better than some social lubricant to get a conversation started and God knew they'd spent enough time alone together in practical silence. Suddenly Shane could say all the things aloud that had been stuck in his head and the words flowed easily between them.

"Sure it is. You like the farm? Keep it."

"But Maggie wants to sell."

"She your mama?"

"No, but she does get half of everything. So...half the vote."

Shane finished his beer and leaned in close, just in time for the waitress to bring their food. The only reason either of them noticed was so Shane could order two more Beck's, and to keep them coming.

"You really think that sister of yours would say no if you put your foot down? Neither of you strike me as the type to give a shit about the money."

"No, she wouldn't. But she has some good points."

"Such as?"

"It's too much for one person. All that land? What do I need all those acres for? I don't even want it."

"Sell the land, keep the house. Wham bam, problem solved."

Shane watch Beth's eyes grow wide, laughter escaping her lips. He wasn't the only one feeling their drinks. Her cheeks were flushed even more than when she'd been out in the sun and her snarky replies were gone, as were his.

"You make it sound so easy."

"It is."

The food was calling their name and Beth let the topic drop, not that it mattered. The seed had been planted. Conversation slowed a little as they ate, both of their bodies craving anything that wasn't lunch meat shoved between two slices of bread. Beers continued to be delivered and they continued to drink, until finally the plates were empty and their stomachs full.

"You know, you never asked me about what I've heard about you," Beth told him once they'd finished.

"I don't need to, I have a pretty good idea."

Shane knew Beth had drank too much when she dropped her doozy of a question, he also knew he had too when he answered instead of getting angry.

"You slept with Rick's wife?"

"I did."

He didn't answer with pride or with shame, just matter-of-fact, the same way she'd asked.

"And she's pregnant?"

"She is. And before you ask, yes, it's mine."

"I'm sorry," Beth apologized, leaning back. "We don't have to talk about it, I'm sure you don't want to."

Shane wanted to do anything but talk about it but he knew Beth was curious. He also knew he'd been giving her enough hell that it was only fair to answer. The booze simply helped the situation. So did the company.

"It's fine. You wanna ask. Shoot."

"Did you love her?"

"Jesus fucking Christ, startin' out easy I see?"

The conversation had turned serious and they both leaned in closer, instinctively, fitting to the topic at hand.

"I didn't fall in love with my best friend's wife." The words stumbled out, words Shane had never really said to anyone. "I fell in love with his life."

It was a confession if there'd ever been one and the cold Beck's made it easy.

A part of Shane wanted to continue on and explain himself better but Beth seemed to pick up on what he was laying down easily.

"I thought men like you...men who'd been defiled many, many, many times didn't want the family life," she told him, never once breaking eye contact. Her joke wasn't lost on either of them but there were more important things to discuss.

"So did I. What can I say? Surprise."

The silence that fell after wasn't awkward, anything but. Shane hadn't managed to admit that truth to anyone, not even Rick or Lori, but it felt good to have it off his chest. So much so that when Beth called his attention to their audience, for once, Shane actually hadn't noticed. The only eyes he'd been aware of starting at him were hers.

"You realize there's like fifty people that keep shooting us the stink-eye right now?"

"I warned you."

"Why do you care so much anyway? You don't seem like the type."

Shane sighed, emptying a beer he knew would be his last. They were already tipsy and needed to drive home.

"It ain't them so much as it's me. People talk shit in small towns, it's what small towns are for. But it's the first time they've ever talked shit about me that I agreed with. Eating your first slice of humble pie at 40 years old stings like a bitch."

"Damn, you're old," Beth added, quick as ever.

Shane knew it was a joke and he appreciated the effort.

"You know what we could really do to fuck with 'em?" She asked, her eyes shifting towards the crowd.

"What's that?"

"Dance."

He shot her down at first, claiming he didn't dance, but he always shot her down on the first try. Beth was learning quickly that Shane's bark was worse than his bite. She blamed the buzz in her veins for asking again, bouncing a little in her seat to the music to urge him along, a trick that worked. He caved so quickly that Beth could only assume a small part of him had wanted to say yes in the first place. It was easier for her to pay no mind to anyone as she grabbed his hand and led him out to the floor, finding a spot between all the other drunks with clumsy feet. Shane's heavy boots weren't clumsy, but they were stiff, his hands barely making contact with her waist as she placed her own on his shoulders. Agreeing to a thing was a lot easier than doing a thing.

Somewhere in the background, a slow melody was playing from a jukebox but Beth ignored the lyrics and instead focused on the man in front of her. She looked at him but he seemed to wanna look at anything else, knowing every move was being watched.

Beth felt like she was back in 5th grade, sharing her first dance with a boy who was afraid his friends were judging him and she had no intention of reliving that experience.

"I was thinking tomorrow we could do some work outside," Beth mentioned, finally drawing his eyes down to her face. "Cut the grass, fix the fence."

Shane always loosened up with talk of work and Beth had plenty of work to talk about.

"What about the cabinets, I thought those were next?" He asked.

Already Beth could feel his fingers grow a little more at home on her hips, pulling her just a hair closer.

"We've gotta wait on that, actually. Patricia wants to have a big dinner before we go and wreck the place, you're invited by the way. This sunday."

"What if I don't wanna come?"

"You never wanna do anything."

"That's not true."

Beth wasn't sure if it was just to spite her words, but Shane's arms finally wrapped around her waist, his hands intertwined on the small of her back. The space between them was now nonexistent and while Shane had a few inches on her, Beth could easily watch his lips move with his next words.

"Who's gonna be there?"

"Me, Patricia, Gabriel...I'm not really sure. Two other women though."

"That right? Can I picture them naked?"

Did he realize his grip on her had tightened? That they were stomach to stomach and Beth could feel his abs pressed against her? Because Beth couldn't quite ignore it, or the heat that flooded her limbs that had nothing to do with the alcohol. She blamed it on the fact that she'd thought of little in the last month except her dad, the farm, and certainly not a man's touch.

"I don't think they'd appreciate that," Beth whispered.

"Then who can I imagine naked?"

Shane was grinning and Beth was drunk, but not drunk enough to walk herself into that one.

"Patricia."

She felt his laugh, his shoulders vibrating just a little under her touch. The song came to an end just as Beth had wrapped her arms around his neck and neither of them made a move to leave. Instead the next song kicked in, and Shane was so close that Beth could feel his breath on her lips.

"Who sings this?"

"Billy Currington," she answered, feeling his hands open and start to explore her lower back, his fingers swaying to the rhythm of the song. Just like the lyrics suggested, Shane must've been doing something right, because Beth's hands started to explore him too, her fingers massaging the nape of his neck, stroking his hair. The moisture on his neck didn't go unnoticed, or the shiver that went down his spine, tension settling between their hips.

"It's not half bad."

Beth had no reply. Especially when he started humming the tune in her ear, followed by a few words.

With sober ears his voice probably needed some work, but it sounded just fine to Beth. She rested her head on his chest and said nothing more. Instead she just listened - to his voice, to his heart's steady beat, to the sigh that escaped her own mouth when his hands continued to lay claim and explore the base of her spine.

"We should go after this," he whispered, reading her mind. "Sober up, drive home."

Beth wasn't sure if the heat between their bodies was from her sunburn, the alcohol, the eager stares, or something else. Quite possibly a mixture of everything. It was definitely time to go. When the song came to an end, she pulled back and caught his dark, heavy eyes staring back at her.

"I thought you didn't dance."

Finally, their bodies parted but Shane's hand stayed on her lower back.

"I don't," he shrugged.

She couldn't quite object, especially when that had felt different than any dance she'd ever had.

He guided her outside, but only after he dumped some bills onto the table they'd shared, not bothering with a word of goodbye to anyone. If eyes had been watching when they'd walked in, eyes were definitely watching as they walked out, no doubt assuming what would happen next.

Of course, it was nothing nearly as scandalous as people probably imagined.

Shane popped the tailgate of her truck down where he took a seat, Beth following suit.

The air was muggy but somehow managed to still feel like relief against Beth's sweltering skin. She blamed the sunburn, even if it was a lie.

"You gonna hold me hostage until I'm sober?" Beth asked, her feet dangling next to Shane's.

"Yup. That's my job."

"Will I be treated to a sobriety test?"

"Maybe, don't give me anymore ideas."

It turned out that she didn't need the sobriety test. Smacking mosquitoes off their skin proved to be sobering on its own, random whacks and slaps filling in the air between their conversation. She wasn't sure what she'd expected when they'd sat down but the words continued to flow effortlessly, Shane usually telling her a dirty secret about whoever came and went from the bar they'd just left. When the stories got old they both laid back in the truck, boots and sneakers still swinging, and talked about the farm.

With a little effort, he agreed to Sunday dinner, even though Beth had known he would. Neither mentioned the dance and she knew neither would. Beth could still feel the nape of his neck under her touch, still smell the beer on his breath. It was a scent that usually turned her off, and maybe it was because she'd been equally as intoxicated, but he wore it well. Just like that tight black t-shirt.

When midnight rolled around, they were both tired of scratching bug bites and decided to call it a night. Beth knew she was sober but she had to admit there was something nice about having his cruiser follow her truck down the highway, especially when she realized she was the only person the road that could speed in front of a cop.

Parking in front of her house was a bit of a reminder of what was inside, her mood dipping just a little. For a few hours Beth had blissfully forgotten her dad and while she'd desperately needed the break she also knew it was time to get back to reality. Then again, a few more minutes wouldn't kill anything.

"Thanks," Shane told her, grabbing his gear from the trunk.

"You paid."

"Yeah, but it was your idea."

She noticed the hesitance in his step.

"See you in the morning?" She asked, just making sure.

"If you insist."

And just like that they were back to the way it always was. Shane complaining, but with a shit eating grin.

Beth told him goodnight, he gave her a nod, and they both walked away at the same time.

Back inside, her body wanted to do nothing but crash. The alcohol had worn off but it'd left her exhausted, overheated, and the hour long drive didn't help. Even with that in mind, she went straight towards Herhsel's room, just to make sure everything had been fine in her absence and maybe tell him a bit about her day and the work she and Shane were planning.

Instead she found Patricia.

The other woman was fast asleep in the chair by Hershel's bed, the Bible still open on her lap. Beth decided to leave it alone. She didn't wanna think about a day when her dad wouldn't be there, but she didn't wanna think about the day when Patricia wasn't either. There was no stopping the first but selling the farm sealed the deal on the second.

When her head hit the pillow, Shane's suggestion was still playing in her mind. As was the sway of his hips and the scent of his skin.

Shane wanted to collapse but a shower was in order. He was covered in sweat, bug bites, and reeked of sleazy bar. There was another scent mixed in there, something soft and sweet, one Shane knew he needed to rid himself of if he were going to get any sleep that night.

The hot water worked out a few of the kinks in his muscles, soothed the headache starting to pound at his temples, but did little to relieve other parts of him that had begun to throb. If anything the humidity just warmed his body up, gearing up for something he had no real way to relieve, not the way Shane wanted to anyway. Every bit of tension and need in his body had collected low in his gut, making his cock ache for a touch as all the blood in his body traveled south.

Shane bit down on his bottom lip, rested his freehand against the tile, and finally gave in. With the water scalding his flesh, he gave himself one slow careful stroke, shutting his eyes and gripping himself tight.

He'd never sleep without unloading, but he also knew he'd never get through tomorrow or the next day. He wouldn't think of her.

With a cautious hand, Shane stroked his hot, hard skin, patient but tight, just how he was craving it. A quick jerk would've worked but he didn't want a quick jerk, he wanted something tight, wet, and steady. A slow grind would've been best but there wasn't a damn thing to grind into except his hand. His cock begged for wet and nasty but it was forced to settle for Shane's firm grasp, throbbing under slow painful strokes.

It didn't matter how tight he shut his eyes, her thighs were there...spread out on the bed of that truck, in the cutoffs so tiny that her pockets hung out in the front. Firm and young, just like the other parts of her that sometimes hung out of the back of those shorts. The view had been nice but the real thing hadn't been so bad either. Beth's backside had felt tiny in his arms and he was positive that to take a man his size, she'd have to be prime and ripe, warmed up by a man and not a college boy. Try as he might to think of the good conversation they'd shared instead, Shane was only human. His dick burned, forcing him to a place he knew he shouldn't go. It was rigid and at full attention, pulsing every time he gave himself a jerk.

The shower was steaming up as his paced quickened and Shane knew he was close. He whispered a quiet curse to himself, hating himself for needing something more than the palm of his hand, for simply needing to relieve the pressure building in his body. It'd been far too long, he told himself. He also told himself the pressure between their bodies on that dance floor had been nothing but the few drops of cum leaking from the head of his dick said otherwise.

A shiver of pleasure shot from his belly button to his nuts and with a rough jerk, he felt himself empty against the tile, a grunt echoing off the walls. He thanked God he was alone. Even if coming down a shower drain didn't feel as good as coming down something else, it would have to work. Shane had just wanted to release the valve a bit, before the pressure became too much.

After collecting his bearings, Shane switched the water over to ice cold and realized he probably should've tried that first. But it was too late and the job had been accomplished either way. By the time his head hit the pillow, Shane was immediately dead to the world and his demons purged.