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It’s not like Rick hasn’t seen the looks Shane still gives Lori or the ones Shane shoots him. Shane’s anger is flat like rusted metal, burning hottest in the sun. He plays the role Rick’s given him, no more outright disobedience, just simmering resentment that he won't let boil over again. But, Shane came back, exactly as Rick asked him to, and though the path was rougher than Rick thought it should be, he has to be grateful for that.
The prison reminds Rick of the abandoned old Victorian he and Shane used to dare each other to camp out inside during summertime. It has voices, groans through the old pipes that carry, and it’s eerie, the sun filtering through the high windows pale gold, afternoon edging closer to twilight. Shane keeps pace behind Rick, Glock drawn from the waistband of his pants as they do their final sweep. This part of the prison seems secure.
They go on sweeps together like this often. When they do they don’t talk much, and never about anything too personal. Rick can’t think of a conversation he’s had with Shane in weeks that wasn’t about safety, clean water, or canned goods. The baby is a thing they’re careful about. It’s never mentioned, never acknowledged, not until now, Rick absentmindedly letting an idea for a name slip to Shane. Shane makes a comment, whatever you want, huh?, and then Rick is slammed backwards into the wall.
His jaw clicks shut, tongue clamped between his teeth. He tastes blood faintly, pain vibrating like a shockwave through his body. Shane has his jeans open before he can think, Shane’s rough hands easing his cock out of his boxers, warm because Shane licks his palm before he pumps Rick once, twice, three times slow. His breath huffs hotly across Rick’s dick the closer he leans in, tongue wetting his fat lower lip, and Rick’s fascinated, suddenly, by the curve of Shane’s throat, the dip of his head downwards, his dark hair cast into shadow.
He hisses as Shane’s mouth closes around his cock. Shane mouths him gently, softer than Rick expected, cradling him more than anything, pulling back to press a kiss to the head with both lips. Then they open and Shane takes him in again, all the way to the base. Rick follows the heat instinctually, seeking out more of the slippery slide and the friction, Shane’s tongue and bottom lip dragging along the underside, throat tight each time he sucks hard on the withdrawal. He knows he should do something—anything—his hand squeezing Shane’s shoulder, his other tangled in Shane’s hair.
There’s nothing he can do. There’s nowhere to go. He’s crowded against the wall, back and ass against cold concrete and every movement forward just shoves his cock further into Shane’s mouth. He can still hear Shane taunting in him that field, I’m a better man than you ringing in the moonlight like a promise, and he figures now it must be true if this has happened—Rick, years married, fucking his best friend’s throat.
He finds the strength to shove Shane away, mouth sliding off his dick with a wet pop. Shane stares up at him from where he’s kneeling; lips spit slick and shiny, plush pink as they catch the light.
Shane stands, backing up like he’s only just starting to reconsider what he’s done. That, more than anything else, more than Shane blowing him, makes Rick angry. He goes after Shane, jeans bunched awkwardly at his boot tops, and spins him around. The air whooshes from Shane’s lungs when he collides chest first into the opposite wall.
“Is this what you want?” Rick asks, panting in Shane’s ear harshly. He grinds his cock against Shane’s ass. “Me because you can’t have my wife?”
It must be, judging from the noises Shane starts making, groaning as he helps Rick unbuckle his belt. Rick tugs Shane’s pants down just far enough that he has access to ass. He spits into his hand, rubbing two fingers through the saliva before he presses them inside. Shane just kicks his legs out wider, his moan a guttural thing, heavy with pleasure. Rick is relentless, and maybe he’s taking his anger out, fucking his fingers into Shane deeply, relentless jabs into his prostate, Shane’s muscles squeezing around him even as he opens him up.
Shane’s hand snags around behind him and it takes a moment before he realizes Shane is handing him lube. Rick tears the packet open with his teeth, dribbling it over himself, lube warm from being in Shane’s pocket, so close to his skin. He strokes himself, smearing the lube onto his cock thicker, spreading Shane’s ass wide with his fingers to wipe the excess across his hole. He plasters himself to Shane’s body, head of his cock catching Shane’s rim, and the only warning he gives Shane is to bend him more forward as he’s pushing in.
Shane’s ass shoves back to meet him, toward the penetration, getting fucked and still not letting Rick have control.
Shane’s hot, tight, clinging to his cock each time Rick gets all the way inside. He should be concerned that they’re doing this out in the open, tucked near the stairwell, probably in full view of anyone who might come by. He can’t be bothered. Not when he’s looking to where Shane’s stretched tight around him, Rick’s dick flushed red and gleaming with lube where it’s sliding in. Both of Shane’s hands brace against the wall in front of him, fingertips white, pinpoints of contact and pressure while he rocks himself into Rick.
Rick snaps Shane onto him, fingers digging in where he’s gripping Shane by the waist, screwing his hips up like he can get in deeper, find space to press himself in just a little more. Shane seems to want that too, thighs forced apart so widely, legs trembling with the effort to hold himself up in such an awkward position, half bent into something resembling a football stance. The slap of their bodies coming together echoes loudly.
Shane’s breathing ragged as he gets closer, inner muscles clenching, balancing himself against the wall with a forearm now, hand he’d used to touch Rick earlier busy jerking himself off, knuckles sliding over the head of his cock given the sound. Rick would do that for Shane himself if he thought he could stop his motion—driving forward, Shane’s ass flush against him and fucked so open and full—for just a second. But he can’t, and it feels like he might die if he even tries to, cock so hard and balls close against his body, nearly jealous when Shane gives a full body shudder and comes into his hand.
Rick keeps fucking Shane even after he’s gone boneless, no longer moving with him, just going along with it, riding out his thrusts. He comes hard, like a whitewash of pleasure, setting every nerve to fire before it fades—ephemeral, the orgasmic rush quickly flittering away. He comes down, sweat on his skin cooling, his face pressing damply against Shane’s back. His hold on Shane slips, Shane’s feet finding steadier purchase on the ground. He keeps the both of them upright while Rick clings to him, just breathing, before he puts himself back together, pulling out of Shane and tucking himself away. Shane hitches his pants up and spins, grinning in a way that Rick remembers, something secret and soft and pretty—the way Shane had smiled when Lori and the baby and Carl weren’t a mess between them.
“C’mon,” Shane says, motioning toward the stairwell, heading back to the group without another word.
Rick follows close behind him.