hyperfixation blog

You took it slow the next morning. You’d cried for a long time after Shane had left, sitting in the bath until it got cold, staring at the white tiles bleary-eyed. When you’d dragged yourself out, aching and shivering, you had put on sweats and Shane’s hoodie and opened all of your windows wide to let in the petrichor; it had rained hard while you’d been in the bathroom, and you had sat in the tepid water so long you’d missed the whole thing. The hoodie smelled like plastic and cheap cans of beer and Shane, but it was clean-ish but for a grass stain, and warm. You cooked instant ramen on the stove and ate it in silence sat on the cold tiled kitchen floor. You scooped your cat up and brought her into your room, burying your nose in her fur as she mewled sleepily at you, and then put her down and let her take the bigger side of the bed, curling up on the side you slept on. The farmhouse was suddenly so big. You had a headache. You were so lonely. Oh, god. You put your hand on the pillow across from you as though someone would be there. They were not.

It was a cool, clear morning when you woke, which promised sun later on, which was a great shame since you were nursing a mean hangover. You spent time with your chickens, cooing and hugging them as they made soft clucking noises at you, and filled your cat’s water bowl behind the coop. You fed your cows, petting and stroking and laughing as the new calf wobbled as she walked under her mother’s legs and mooed nervously at you. You took it easy. You took your time. You ached. Your legs hurt, your groin burned, your shoulders and neck littered with marks where Shane had got his mouth over your skin. Those, at least, didn’t feel bad - Shane had ironed that nagging ache to be touched right out of you for now, thank fuck. Your mind was clear, quiet, but your chest hurt with sobbing, and you were a little nauseous from too much beer and too much crying. Throwing crops into the shipping bin, you re-entered your farmhouse and forced down a soda and some fruit and cheese, threw it up, and then went back to sleep for a few hours. Woke up again. Tried to eat some more. Kept it down. Thought about texting Leah. Didn’t. You felt sort of like you were on autopilot, like your body was going through the motions and your mind was just trying to keep up. You cried. You put Shane’s hoodie back on. Elliott rang, and you didn’t pick up. Man. Fuck this shit.

By two in the afternoon you were starting to catch back up with yourself, starting to feel real again. And what do real people do? Real people go and see their friends. You had a jar of strawberry jam with Maru’s name on it - she’d be at the clinic, yes, but it was Harvey’s day off. No doubt he was in his apartment, doing whatever it is he did all day. You imagined him often in his room. You’d seen it a few times when you were friends, before the beach; he never really told you what he did with all his little gizmos and radios, always pink in the face with embarrassment when you asked about them. Something to do with planes, he’d mumble, and smile into his glass. You’d gone over for lunch a few times, looked around and imagined what he was like when he was alone. What he wore. What he did. What he looked like in bed, shirt discarded, reading, smoking over whiskey in the evening, sipping hot espresso in the morning, hair messy, in the grey cotton briefs that stuck out from his bottom drawer. Fuck. Fuck. Stop it. Stop it.

You took a deep breath in. You put concealer under your eyes. You dug out a Chapstick from the back of your bathroom cupboard. You washed your face and neck and hands, and did your hair, and left Shane’s hoodie on the couch. You scooped the jam into your bag and stepped out of the door, down the path, towards the town.

The next few minutes blurred. Bus stop. Hole in the ground. Stray rock. You tripped, and crashed down, headfirst, into the dust path, smacking your head on the stone, crying out. You tried to pick yourself up, but God, you were just so dizzy, and oh, there was blood coming from your head, so much - and your stomach had been cut, a long, deep thing, your short blooming red. You sat up, and stared at your hands, feeling the glaze of shock come over you. You heard the muffled sound of sneakers on the path, and saw Alex approaching quickly.

“Hey! Hey, what the hell? Holy shit!” Alex panicked, looking down at you. “Oh, shit, shit, I need to get you to Harvey’s. Okay, okay,” he took his jacket off and you grimaced as he pressed it into your stomach. “Hold it. Hey, hold it here. I’m gonna pick you up now, o-okay?”

“Fuck’s sake, please, please don’t take me there, Alex, he hates me,” you whined weakly and sucked a breath through your teeth at the pain. You were mumbling, not really able to get the syllables out properly.

“Don’t care.” Alex scooped you up in one fluid motion and hoisted you up into the air. You let out a cry at the movement, pressing your shirt into the wound. He near sprinted the short distance to Harvey’s and burst through the door, kicking it open with one foot. You felt tears running down your face and you balled your fists in Alex’s gridball jacket, holding it to your stomach, trying not to look, trying not to retch.

“Harvey!” Alex yelled. Maru was at the desk. “Harvey, get out here!”

“Oh - he’s off today,” said Maru. “We aren’t expecting any patients.”

“Look at her!” Alex yelled at her, and Maru walked around the counter to look closer, gasping. “Get him. I don’t care that he’s on his day off. He’s gonna treat her.”

Maru disappeared upstairs, banging on Harvey’s door audibly. You heard nothing for a second, and then Maru screaming through the door. Your head fell limply back, and your hands softened in Alex’s jacket. Your breath was shaky and jittery. So dizzy. So faint.

“Get out here right now, Harvey, the farmer’s here!” There was a muffled mumble from the other side. “It’s not a social call, idiot, she’s got a head injury!” You heard nothing.

“I’m gonna pass out,” you muttered to Alex, the hyperventilation slowing as you felt so very sleepy.

“Losing her!” Alex cried desperately. “C’mon. Please don’t go to sleep, don’t sleep. Stay with us.”

“Harvey, she’ll bleed out!” Maru pounded at the door.

Harvey appeared in the doorway. His eyes were red, lips dry, hair a mess. His glasses were sitting crooked on his nose, and he was in a white tank, covered by a blue plaid shirt, and matching pajama bottoms. You could barely see him through the tears blurring your eyes and the oblivion creeping up on you. The pain was numbing. So was everything else. You heard ringing in your ears.

“Get her on a bed. We’re going to have to stitch her up and stop the bleeding. Maru, get me an IV, gas and some painkillers. And she needs blood. Check the records for her blood type.” He strode towards the back room and opened the door for Alex, who brought you through and laid you gently down.

“Thank you Alex. You need to leave now. Quickly, no protesting.” He rolled his sleeves up, put on a medical gown and washed his hands to the elbows. He pulled on two layers of gloves and a mask, and suddenly you just felt that if you closed your eyes and just rested for a moment everything would be all right. “Gauze, sanitiser, needle and- no, no, don’t fall asleep, sweetheart, please…” You heard Harvey softly trying to keep you awake, distant, Maru wheeling in a tray, the doctor cradling your cheeks in his hands. He was saying something. A short sentence. You couldn’t hear it. You just needed to sleep.

You woke in the same spot. Were you dead? You opened your eyes painfully and looked down at yourself. You were bandaged, IV cord hanging from your arm, and you coughed at the oxygen tube in your nose. You forced yourself to look around at the room. Clean, white and blue, sterile and fresh-smelling; the sun was low in the sky, white light indicative of the morning. And, of course, Harvey. He was softly snoring in a plastic hospital chair with a book open, pressed against his chest on the opposite side of the room. You could hear the jazz and soul Harvey liked to play in the clinic sounding softly from the waiting room.

“Harvey?” you croaked. The doctor jolted awake and looked at you. Eyes widening, he looked like he was about to say something, but then closed his mouth again and stood, clearing his throat. A picture of professionalism. You didn’t like it.

He nodded stiffly. “You’re awake. Good.” He tightened his fingers on his book. An annotated edition of Othello. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” you mumbled. “And my head feels like... fuzzy. I- how long have I been out, Harvey? And - please don’t be so formal with me, it makes me feel weird. We are supposed to be friends, you know.”

You could see him clench his jaw. You were silent. He had never been curt like this with you, not even after the beach. “You were asleep for about two days. You’re on some quite intense medications. Any feelings of fogginess or general disorientation should be gone within a couple of hours. Maru will write you a form when I give the green light to send you home in a few days.” He brought out a stethoscope as he spoke, sitting down on the side of your bed and pressing it to your chest. Everything he said was short and factual. He was then quiet for a moment, whilst he brought out a small light and waved it back and forth in front of your eyes. “I’m going to take those bandages off you now. Feel free to look away if you’re squeamish.” You still said nothing, not meeting his eyes. You’d really fucked it up now, hadn’t you? No doubt stories of your Shane-related antics were all over town. And all over town also meant here. “Leah is looking after your farm for the foreseeable until Maru and I can get you up and out of here again. You’ll have to stay as still as you can in the meantime.” He pulled back the bandages to reveal three jagged lines of stitches stretching across one side of your ribs.

“I- Harv, please,” you said softly; you felt your eyes welling. “I- come on, talk to me like a normal fucking person-”

“Maru will be in with some breakfast and a coffee.” He cut you off, and you were silent as he re-bandaged the wounds. He stood again and made to flounce out of the door. He paused in the doorway. “And just to be clear, I think you’ve made it quite apparent that we are very far from being friends.” He closed the door behind him before you could even open your mouth to answer.

You sighed. This was going to be a long few days.

The anxiety of the previous few days had, in Harvey’s head, been replaced with the metallic twang of anger. She always had some visitor or another, beloved as she was, after she woke up, and Harvey was left mostly alone to stew in his jealousy. Alex passed through at the first moment he could - forgivable, thought Harvey, as he’d been the one to bring her in - but all the same, it left the doctor with a hatred in the pit of his stomach seeing the tan, muscled twentysomething with a bouquet of wild flowers and a box of chocolates for her. Evelyn and George came with him, at least, George complaining all the way as per the norm. The following day, Haley, Maru, Penny and Emily bustled into the clinic, Maru going with them to see the farmer with a little homemade music box before she changed in the bathroom and started her work in the clinic for the day. Haley was toting a fluffy pink teddy bear, and Emily had brought her a shiny shard of selenite she’d found in a geode. Penny stayed the longest, and Harvey could hear them giggling as they shared the little charcuterie board she’d brought the farmer. Doting as ever.

Elliott brought her books and fruit, and giggled over daft smutty romance with her, and read to her from Austen until she fell asleep, shooting Harvey a glance as he left that he knew meant something. Leah came to bring her a little paperweight sculpture made of oak, and stayed hours with her in silence, holding her hand and sketching flowers as the farmer read Elliott’s novels.

He kept himself out of the back room whilst the visitors were there. He couldn’t bear it. If he was going to try and forget about her after this, which had been the plan since he arrived home from that night he saw Shane at the farm, he needed to pry himself away. It was not, so far, going at all well, and he often busied himself without thinking in the same room as her. They coexisted in relative silence other than the occasional word of curt greeting, or Harvey re-bandaging and re-patching her stitches. His fingertips touching her skin was enough to send him spiraling. God. He felt awful.

Harvey’s real problem came the following day, at which point he narrowed his eyes from behind the front desk as Shane sidled into the clinic. He was carrying a clumsily wrapped gift and a bunch of orange marigolds, clearly picked from Marnie’s garden. He was fresh out of work but missing his Joja hoodie - still undoubtedly on the floor of the farmhouse where it had been left, the doctor remembered with a grimace. Harvey felt his stomach turn, and brought his hand up to his forehead, massaging his temples for the sheer stress of it all.

“Visiting hours are over.”

“I’ll only be a couple of minutes,” Shane leaned awkwardly against the doorframe. Harvey drew in and then let out a long, tired breath, taking his glasses off and sitting back to rub his eyes with the heels of his hands. He was such a spineless moron.

“Sure. Whatever, sure, go through. She’s in the back.” Harvey pointed him through the door defeatedly. Shane said nothing and ambled through the clinic, and Harvey tried to stop himself from straining his ears to hear, giving another long breath out and then putting his head on the table.

“Oh! Shane! I thought you were too busy with work to come and see me.” Her voice drifted through the corridor, bright and bell-like.

“Can’t leave my favourite lil’ farm girl here all alone, now can I?” The older man chuckled. “Got somethin’ for ya.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have… Awh! Oh my god, Shane, did you make this?” Harvey’s ears started turning red, hearing her squeak with excitement.

“Just a little somethin’-somethin’ Emily’s been helpin’ me cook up. Been doin’ a lot for me the last few months, y’know, helpin’ with…” he trailed off for a moment. “With the drinkin’. And all. Thought now would be a good time to finish the damn thing.”

Harvey could hear the rustling of packaging and the tissue paper and ribbon being discarded on the floor, the sound of fabric. “Never taking this off.” She was giggling, and Shane laughed heartily. Harvey flicked on his live CCTV to see that the farmer was now wearing a large, thick knit sweater - clearly made by someone with slightly lacklustre technique - which had a big cartoony chicken on the front.

“Y’know. Since we, uh… bond over our animals a lot.”

“You don’t need to give me a reason, Shane. I love it.” He saw her lean forward for a gentle hug. His heart pounded and his stomach turned flips as Shane stroked her hair on the little screen.

“Anyway.” He broke away, helping her lie back down. “How’re things? Doc treatin’ you right?”

Oh. Oh dear.

“Don’t even.” She rubbed her forehead with her hand. “Been awful. Can’t even bring myself to speak to him.”

“Damn. Sorry, kiddo.”

There was a moment of silence. “I really think I fucked up.”

“Yeah. About that.” Shane cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair. “I came to, uh… well. I ain’t just here to give you my best and wish ya a couple o’ get-well-soons. I’m here to say I’m sorry.” Another silence. “The more I think about it the more I think I mighta… taken advantage of ya and been to blind to see it ‘cause… I guess, I just thought you were pretty hot and a bit of fun and I just wanted that to myself for a while. And that ain’t to say the reason I did it wasn’t to help. I know you needed to just forget for a while. But it ain’t right. I know what it’s like to try and take your mind off things in a way that ain’t so healthy, and… yeah, I’m just tryna… I’m just tryna say sorry. I feel like I’ve ruined somethin’ between you and… well. Someone you’re in love with.”

She said nothing for a long time. Harvey’s throat dried up and he balled his hands into fists in his pockets.

“I see where you’re coming from. And thanks for looking out for me.” She reached across for his hand. “But I don’t feel taken advantage of. I mean, all of us are assholes, right? I never told Harvey I had a God-awful crush on him because I thought he was too good for me, he was too nervous and worried about his job to tell me, you’re a chronic flirt…” Shane laughed at this, seeming to feel a little better. “Shane, I don’t regret going home with you. It was good. You were really, really good. It was nice to be with someone I knew didn’t want anything serious. And it’ll probably help me get over Harvey now that he hates my fucking guts.” She sighed, sitting back against the pillow and scratching her jaw. The doctor, watching from the front desk, rested his chin nervously in his hands and chewed the end of his pen. He’d seen the marks there, sat and watched her sleep off the stitches and imagined it happening, imagined Shane’s mouth grazing her neck and shoulders. Thought about the sounds of it, the sounds that day at the beach. He took himself back to his apartment above the clinic and went for a shower so hot it left his skin raw after that, and tried not to think about it again.

The worst part of all this was that he could tell Shane was sincere, and it shocked him to hear the words coming out of the other man’s mouth. All he’d heard in the past were grunted retorts when he advised in Shane’s checkups that he should adopt a healthier diet, stop smoking, asked tentatively about how his therapy was going. Occasional witty remarks from the corner of the saloon. Taunts. Flirtatious banter. Excusing himself for a smoke break. Calling for another beer. This didn’t even seem like the same person.

“Hope this ain’t comin’ across like I’m confessin’ my love for you or some sappy shit. We’re still good on that front.” He snorted a laugh.

She giggled again. “Had me nervous for a second.”

So he really didn’t want to be with her. That… changed things.

“Yeah, nah. Appreciate that I’m incredibly good-lookin’, charmin’ and hilarious, but unfortunately for Pelican Town, I ain’t got the commitment skills for all that.”

“Never would have guessed.”

He squeezed her hand. “I should go. Visitin’ hours over ‘n all.” He stood and made for the door. “And let me know if Harvey comes around, I wanna know whether I should put you on my rota next month. Y’know.

“Go on. Get out and go have ten beers or whatever you do on a Thursday.”

“Way ahead of ya. It’s one beer and nine Joja Colas nowadays.”

“I know. Look after yourself, cowboy.”

Harvey heard the door creak open and turned his monitor off, getting back to his paperwork. Shane pulled up a chair, to his disgruntlement, and sat in front of the counter.

“Hope you heard that.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Harvey didn’t look up.

“It’s the truth. Don’t play stupid, Doc.”

Harvey was silent, pursing his lips and swallowing.

“Stop bein’ an asshole and say somethin’ to her.” Shane stood, putting his chair back and then swinging the door open, no doubt to head towards the saloon.

*

He led you by the small of your back inside again, and this time, you really did sit in his lap, let his hand slip a little too far, wrap your arm around Shane’s shoulder. Harvey was silent in his rage, and Elliott and Abigail shot you looks that said What? as Shane lazily kissed the nape of your neck and made you laugh with gently teasing jokes, hot arousal pooling in your stomach. The group continued with their game (“Someone at this table put their dick in a lampshade when they were 14.” “Well, someone else at this table put a Help Wanted poster up for ten bits of monster slime and a cucumber.” “Well, you know what, Sam, someone else at this table owns a Mikasa body pillow.”). You didn’t bother joining in, Shane keeping you happily distracted with his gruff, friendly chatter. Soon the bar was closing, and Shane took your wrist and led you to the door, walking you over to the farmhouse. You unlocked the door and he gently pushed you up against it, a little rough, a little drunk, kissing your neck, hands at your hips.

“How you wanna do this, baby?” he murmured, taking off his hoodie. You let out a soft groan against his cheek.

“Just need it,” you mumbled in his ear, pulling his head back down to your neck, and he grunted, pushing his groin into your thigh. He was already getting hard.

“‘Kay, baby, I gotcha. Why don’tcha tell me about him, darlin’?” You encircled his neck with your arms. “Obvious it was you ‘n him on the beach that day,” he chuckled, and touched his nose to your forehead. “That your little ‘somethin’ happened’?” You nodded. “Go on. If it’ll help get you off.” The thought had you weak. He went to unbuckle his belt, discarding it on the floor, and hoisted you up around his waist, carrying you over to the kitchen counter, setting you down and leaning over you to close the blinds behind you.

“So, what, you and our favourite doctor, all alone at the beach?” He unbuttoned his jeans, and pushed your skirt up, positioning himself between your thighs. He ran his palms over your legs, callused and hot. You gasped into his ear.

“I- yeah, I- it was a really small place,” you began. “A-and we were pressed against each other.” He pressed two thick fingers against your clit through your underwear and you muffled your moan with his shoulder.

“You can bite me if you want, darlin’,” he teased. “I can take it.” He started to draw his fingers in circles. “What did you do then, huh, pretty girl?”

“I teased him,” you breathed hard, hands balling in the fabric of his well-fitting tank as he rubbed his fingers over the thin cotton. “A-and he was really close to kissing me, and said he wouldn’t be able to control himself if he started.”

“Can’t say I blame him,” Shane kissed and sucked along your jaw, fingers still working at you, making sure you were ready for him. “And you called him by his title?” he laughed into your neck. You hummed in agreement, hot embarrassment edging onto your cheeks. “You got some fuckin’ nerve, pretty girl.” He dragged one of his fingers all the way up the middle of your underwear, and you swore and sank your forehead into his shoulder. “Hey,” he cooed into your ear, and then faced you, tilting your chin up with his unoccupied hand. “Ain’t no need to be ashamed with me, baby. Look at me, huh?” He started moving his fingers again, other hand roughly squeezing your ass. You started making soft sounds as you held yourself up against him, hands running over his neck and torso. You could feel the muscle in his arms, his chest, his stomach, but he was pleasantly bulky, a heavy-set, dad-bod type from beer and pizza and Marnie’s cooking. It suited him, suited his hedonism and grumpy, dry-humoured manner, and made you feel totally powerless. Exactly what you needed. He had total control, and you could just let your mind go blank and allow that burning animal want take over. You steadied yourself on his muscular shoulders; he might very well have been a piece of shit, but you felt safe in his thick, strong arms. “C’mon baby, tell me some more.” You could feel your orgasm starting to burn in the bottom of your abdomen. Shane moved his unoccupied hand to your chest, sliding it beneath your shirt to thumb at your nipple.

“He told me- fuck that’s good- he told me he wanted to ruin me,” you panted, “and- uh, fuck - I told him I wanted it even though- even though Elliott was gonna come back.” Your legs were shaking. You were so close. Shane slowed his pace and you whined.

“Yeah? You like bein’ watched, baby?” he was all but purring into your ear now, slipping his hand out of your shirt and holding your hips, fingers digging deliciously into the soft flesh below your waist. “You want someone to fill you up that bad, huh?”

“I- please, please Shane, keep going.”

“Well, since you’re beggin’ me for it,” he patronised playfully, and you felt him smile against your neck as he sucked a deep mark there. You whimpered at the discomfort, driving forward the want. “What happened then, pretty girl?”

“He turned me around against the wall,” you covered your mouth with a hand as he teased you, “and he put his hand in my hair to pull me back towards him, and then we heard Elliott.”

“Atta girl.” He increased the pace of his fingers a little more and you moaned. Loud. “Would he have fucked you raw from behind right there? Huh?” You nodded, pressing your hips into his fingers. “Did you want him to spank you?”

“I-yeah-ah!” He brought his hand down hard on your ass.

“Like that? That turn you on?” His gravelly, deep Southern voice was thick with desire. You jolted as he spanked you again, gripping the front of his shirt.

You were so close, flashes of Harvey at the forefront of your mind. He slowed again, and you whined. “Shane, I need it, I need it so bad.” He removed his hand and you gasped with the sudden cold, aching with want.

“C’mon, baby. Wait for it a little longer, yeah?” He slid your underwear aside, and pushed one of his fingers slowly into you, gently applying pressure upwards like he’d done it a million times before. You rested your weight on your hands, behind you on the counter, and pushed your hips towards him, head falling back with a sigh. “That’s it, pretty girl. Look perfect.” He added an extra finger, beginning to pump his hand in and out of you a little faster, every time pushing up into that sweet spot, knuckles curling in just the right way. You gasped and moaned with every movement, and saw him stroking his cock with his other hand. Your mouth watered, and you felt yourself getting close to the edge again; Shane’s hand was starting to make a sloppy, wet noise, and he added a thumb, pressed hard against your clit, causing you to buck against his hand. Your mind was absolutely blank, caught up in the moment, only able to think about how bad you needed him to fuck you.

“Sha-Shane, I’m gonna c-cum-”

He tutted no, slid his fingers out of you, lifted you off the counter and spun you around, pushing you against the surface, sliding his fingers into your hair and pulling so you arched your back. He leaned over and kissed the nape of your neck.

“You wanna be fucked like this, baby? You want him to do this to you?” he muttered, and you nodded. He unceremoniously opened a condom from his pocket with his teeth and rolled it on, panting. “Yeah, that’s my good girl.” He pulled your soaked underwear aside and slid the end of his cock up and down your entrance, still stroking himself with his hand. He reached around you and touched your clit again, agonisingly languid, and then slowly slid into you. Like everything else about him, he wasn’t the biggest, but he was so fucking thick, and though you were slick and ready for him, there was still a burning stretch as he finally pushed himself all the way inside you, grunting as he did so. He stayed there for a moment, fully seated inside you, so you could adjust as he listened to you gasping for air, and then started to fuck you, slow and hard, sliding himself fully inside you with every thrust. His fingers kept up the pace at your clit, and you swore loudly as you started to hear the smack of his pelvis against your thighs. He pushed your back into a deeper arch, pressing deeper into you, moving his hand from your hair to stroke down your back, squeeze at your chest. His fingers on your clit kept pace, and you made soft sounds, squeezing your eyes shut. He shifted his weight a little and his next movement hit you right where you needed him, the head of his cock dragging against that sweet spot, fucking you so deep and hard and good you couldn’t think about anything else. You gripped the counter white-knuckled.

“There we go baby,” he cooed. “Shit. Feels so fuckin’ good. Hold still now, darlin’.” You cried out and he kept at it, that burning, tingling feeling rising in your stomach as he increased his pace.

“I- pl-please Shane, I’m gonna-”

“Not yet you ain’t.” He pulled out, returning you to your original position sitting on the counter, and pulled you close by the back of your neck and your hips, pushing back into you so deep you could practically see your abdomen bulging with the tip of his cock, your soaking cunt making a sticky, wet noise. He growled curses in your ear as he fucked you back to the edge for a devastating fourth time, and his thumb sat at your clit. “Fuck. That’s my girl, so fuckin’ good for me.” He was still slow and hard as ever, filling you in just the way you needed, and you hooked your legs around his hips, silently begging for more of that thick, fat cock. His pace increased and you groaned loud into his neck, nails digging into the backs of his shoulders. His thumb made circles on your clit again, and you could feel yourself plummeting towards your finish, thighs slick and sticky, sweat beading on your temples, feeling Shane’s breath on your neck.

“You gonna cum all over me?” he asked, and increased his pace a little further so you could hear his hips against your thighs, sloppy, sticky sounds louder than ever. “Yeah, sweet girl?” He kept up his fingers at your clit, stroking with callused finger pads.

“Ah- shhhit, so close,” Shane breathed. “Fuck, look at you, baby. Drippin’ all over the counter for me, dirty little thing.” You were, indeed, sitting atop a wet, slick pool, steadying yourself with hands balled in the back of Shane’s shirt.

You squeezed your legs together around his waist, his fingers still making slow circles, and dug your nails hard into his back and moaned and swore loud as you came hard, relief crashing over you; Shane hissed at the pain of your nails, and pressed down on your clit so you could ride it out, legs shaking, pushing your hips towards him as his thrusts became fast and breathless. He grunted into your neck and held you against him with one hand hooked under your knee as your muscles contracted around him, made more intense by the squeeze of your thighs around his waist. He increased his pace, and you heard his breath hitch. A grunt escaped him as he came, taking a step forward to press his nose against your shoulder and pull you tighter against him so that he was buried as deep as he could go, holding you with a burning intensity which turned soon to softness. One of his hands was at the small of your back, the other gently moving to rest on the back of your head. He kissed your cheek and checked you over. “Shit, I… I ain’t hurt you, have I?”

You suddenly felt choked as he pulled out, tied off the condom, threw it in the trash and buttoned his jeans, glancing up at you all the while. He lifted your chin to face him. His eyes softened at you, and you suddenly let out a sob, and sank into his arms, face in your hands. He let you go limp and held you up against the counter, arms finding your back.

“I j- just-“ you stopped to suck in some air but you couldn’t speak. Shane stroked your back and kissed your hair. No no, no, no, not now not now, please please just stop crying and shut up and be fine. Please. Please. You willed it. It didn’t work.

“Woah, okay, all right. Tell me. C’mon, breathe and tell me, I just wanna know if you’re hurt.”

“I really-” you took a broken, shaking breath in, not wholly in control of your own body. *Don’t say it. Don’t fucking say it. Fuck. Fuck. I’m gonna fucking say it, aren’t I?* “I r- really think I’m in l- love with him, Shane,” you sobbed, “Oh, f-fuck, fuck, I’m s-so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry. Ohmyfuckinggodimsosorry, oh, Shane-”

“Okay. Oooookay.” He held you until it passed, held you and soothed you as you shook and cried and sucked in air, until it was over. “C’mon, sweet girl, come back. Breathe. Come back to me, okay? You’re here, I’m here, you’re good. You’re good.” And then it was okay again. “All right, darlin’. You’re here.” You sniffled, and he thumbed away the tears, reaching for a tissue on the windowsill and handing it to you.

“Hey. You’re all right, baby girl, you’re all good. Ain’t gotta do anythin’ you don’t wanna. Happens sometimes, y’know, after… when you got a lot goin’ on… all those feelings bottled up… just all a bit much, huh?” You nodded at his cooing, and he scooped you up in his arms. “You ain’t gotta worry yourself,” he said, carrying you over to the couch. He plopped you gently down and handed over his hoodie before heading to the bathroom to clean up. “We’re still gonna be friends. Nothin’ complicated, I ain’t gonna start followin’ you around like a puppy and givin’ you roses and shit. You got enough of that goin’ for ya.” He snorted softly to himself.

“You promise?” You asked him, eyes watery, and knew he meant it anyway. Surly, gruff, grumpy Shane. Rough-around-the-edges Shane. He’d dragged himself out of hell to try and better himself - for you, Marnie, Jas, his little life at the ranch. You knew he meant whatever he said.

“Promise,” he called from the other room, hot water running. You smiled painfully. “Gonna run you a bath and then I’ll get outta here, let ya have some space, okay, sweet girl? That all right?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” You wandered into your bedroom and kicked off your shoes, still on your feet, wincing at the movement. You were still so sensitive, but now, your head was clear. You put on his hoodie and stripped your underwear, discarding the garment at the bedroom door, and then your skirt.

“No, thank you,” he chuckled from the bathroom, poking his head around the door. You gave a tearful laugh and then hiccupped, losing breath. Shane winced and beckoned. “Come back here ‘n look pretty for me on the couch for a couple minutes, huh, darlin’? Wanna keep an eye on ya.”

*****

Harvey slammed the door to the clinic and yelled.

“Fuck! Fucking idiot.” He couldn’t get it out of his head. The way he’d been too nervous and jealous and angry to just drag her off to the clinic when he found a moment. The way she’d sat on another man’s lap and taken him home with her at the end of the night. He could have cried.

He had to tell someone. He had to. He picked up his landline phone and dialled Elliott.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Elliott, it’s Harvey. I need to talk to you.”

“Good heavens, can’t it wait? It’s so late and you’ve got an early start. Go to sleep-”

“No, no, please. Please.”

Elliott sighed and was silent. A gesture that he should go on.

“I think…” he swallowed, “I think I’m in love with her.” He could see Elliott in his mind’s eye putting two fingers to the bridge of his nose, between his eyebrows, and massaging with the stress of it all.

“You are the stupidest, densest moron I have ever met, you know that?”

“I- what?”

“You’re an idiot. I’m going to be honest, I thought if ever you’d wanted to take her home with you, it would be this evening. You had so many shots and you missed them all. She’s been holding out for you for months.”

“Excuse me? When have I ever-“

“Shut up, Harvey. Listen to me. She hasn’t been with anyone since she’s been in the valley. She used to sit next to you every time we met at the saloon. She used to fix your tie for you, for God’s sake. She used to steal your glasses. The way she used to look at you before the beach should have had an age restriction on it. She wanted you so badly she jumped at the chance even when you were in a fucking cave, fresh out of the sea and freezing cold in a summer storm.”

Harvey was silent.

“And now, when you’ve finally realised you want to pin her down and make her see God as much as she wants it, you’re what? Too shy? You certainly weren’t too shy that day at the beach, mister ‘I won’t be able to stop myself’.”

“I- you…heard? All that?”

“Bits and pieces. I only put it all together when I saw you tearing yourself away from her.” The doctor mouthed a curse as Elliott spoke. “Haley and Emily were sat by the window tonight, you know. Told me everything. You sounded like a real arse out there, Harv. Always excuses - I don’t even know why you brought up that you’re older when we had an entire conversation at the table revolving around the fact that she *likes* that, when she’s spent the better part of two months distracting herself by flirting with a man who’s at least a few years older than you. You’re better looking and have more going for you than half the men in town and you still hold yourself back unless you can keep her a secret because first, you think you’ve got some sort of reputation to uphold and she’d be your controversial young girlfriend, and second you’re scared she’ll find you dull and leave for someone more exciting. This was your shot to miss, Harv. She’s been waiting for you because she respects you. And look at you now,” Elliott spoke with a blunt calmness. “Heaven at your doorstep and you wouldn’t even answer its knock.”

“I- I never…” Harvey stammered.

“Never my arse, Harvey. She’s being railed into oblivion by Shane as we speak and you didn’t do a single thing to stop it. I’m going to bed. I love you, Harv, and you know it, but you’re a stupid fucking bastard for this. Speak to her tomorrow or stop fucking moping. Sick of it.” And Elliott put the phone down with a bang. Harvey threw the receiver hard against the wall. It broke.

“Shit.”

Before he knew what he was doing, the doctor was out of the door, walking towards the farmhouse, praying Elliott was wrong. He picked an armful of daffodils as he went and tied the bottoms together with some string he found in his pocket. The lights were on, and he happened a glance through the window. He could see through her room to the kitchen. He dropped the daffodils.

She was curled on the couch with her cat, covered with what he thought was a blanket, but as he got a little closer his heart sank at the appearance of the Joja logo. Shane’s hoodie, so big on her she could have used it as a dress. She had tired eyes, and was smiling at the bathroom. He was in there with her, Harvey realised, stomach lurching. Shane came out of the bathroom and dug in the kitchen cupboard, pulled out a cloth and some anti-bac spray and wiped down the kitchen counter.

They’d just fucked on the counter. He knew they had. And now he was doing those romantic, syrupy things you do after you really enjoy it, after you leave someone so tired you feel obliged to do something sweet for them, like running them a bath and cleaning up. Shane offered her an uncharacteristically gentlemanly hand, and she pulled herself up and to the bathroom. He embraced her in the doorway for a moment, and they had a short conversation, Shane raising his eyebrows in worry. Harvey’s stomach twisted. Shane gestured something to the effect of ‘you can keep it’ about the hoodie, called a goodbye back to her, swiped his keys from the counter and then, Harvey heard the door open. He flattened himself against the wall of the farmhouse as Shane walked by.

“Save it for tomorrow, Doc,” he called as he went past, not even turning his head. “She’s havin’ some real big feelings in there. And besides,” he turned slightly, looking directly at Harvey, “hell, I ain’t even sure she’ll answer the door. On account of her not bein’ able to walk so well now I’ve finished with her.” He spun back to the path. “Really didn’t think I’d be the one takin’ her home today, but you’re just too damn stupid to realise when it’s now or never.”

Harvey was silent, digging his nails into his palms, trying not to beat the coy bastard up.

“The hell does that mean?” Harvey tested. Shane turned on his heel again and strode towards him, poking a finger at the taller man.

“She is absolutely head over fuckin’ heels for you,” whispered Shane, rage in his gruff Southern voice. He pointed an accusatory finger at Harvey. “I oughta kick the fuckin’ shit outta you, asshole. You wanna know why she took me home? Because you won’t. And she is smokin’, Harvey, in case you’re blind as well as stupid, so I was happy to oblige. Prettiest thing in town she is. The difference between us,” Shane raised his eyebrows, “is that if she wants it,” he was so dangerously close now that Harvey almost took a step back, “I ain’t got no high horse to be on, so I’ll tell her she can have me any way she wants, anywhere, any time, for as long as it takes for her to feel satisfied. Ain’t make a difference to me whether everyone knows I fucked her so good she can’t think straight.” Harvey was trembling, face red, fists clenched. “It’s about pride, doc,” Shane put his hands in his pockets. “You want her less than you want everyone knowin’ doctor’s got the hots for someone a little younger? Be my pleasure to pick up after you if it means I put givin’ that poor woman some human decency down as a reoccurrin’ event in my calendar. Good fuckin’ night.” He turned, spat on the ground and walked away across the farm, south through the fruit trees towards Marnie’s ranch. Harvey looked back to the window, chest aching. He watched the hoodie fly out of the bathroom to land on her couch, and then the bathroom door closed and he saw nothing more of her. He threw the daffodils in a heap to the side of the farmhouse, and started the cold walk home in the grating spring night.

Author’s Note

Yeah. There we have it. Everyone cheer, Fic&Fix posted her first smut. If it was shit let me know. Or alternatively if you’re currently supine and bathed in post-nut glow as a direct result of my chapter, also let me know. I have been agonising about this for months. Next chapter inbound and I may have to get you to vote on who you want reader to end up with, as I am incredibly indecisive.

Love ya,

Harvey ☕️🔬📚

Slow. Methodical. And soooo gentle. He's taking his time with you. Slow, however, does not mean boring. Harvey loves fine details. And everything about you is a fine detail.

World's switchiest switch. Looks up at you like you're God, when you ask it of him. Like he's under a spell. And, at other times, holds you down and coaxes you directly into oblivion. Keeps you there until you’re shaking.

Genuinely almost loses his shit altogether when you wear his clothes. Wear his button-downs. Wear his boxers. He’s sweating, hands shaking, can’t think about anything else. Fuck. He might as well just give the damn things to you. You wear them better than he does. If he's got anything to say about it, however, you won't be wearing them for long.

Wants absolutely nothing more than to be close to you, skin on skin, for as long as is physically possible. Rubs your neck and shoulders. Buries his head in your hair. Pushes in deep, deep, deep, holds you encased in his arms. Fucks like he wants to touch your soul.

Occasionally, jealous. The only time he gets a little rough, a little messy, a little harder, tearing at clothes, biting at neck, hands at throat. You like to poke the bear for fun sometimes. You don't regret it. You're always his. He knows.

“Fuck. Mine. My girl. Say it.”

Head game is absolutely immense. Legs over shoulders, kneeling in front of you holding your thighs, he doesn't care.

Low groans and stuttered breaths direct into your ear. Mutters curses against your neck. You lucky thing.

Elliott 📜🖋️🐚

Sensual in the most literal sense of the word. Deprivation is the name of the game, and blindfolds, ties, wax, incense and a fairly sizeable number of appliances are the rules.

Gentle but ruthless. One foot in the door of pleasure dom. Won't stop until you're just about ready to collapse, and watches you like you're a prey animal all the while. Not dominating in the traditional sense of the word - but he puts you in your place all right. A choice word or two. A select amount of pain. And suddenly, you’ll do whatever he asks. He doesn’t even have to get undressed.

Talks you through it. Soft, authoritative. Read a few too many books not to have picked up a trick of the tongue or two. Or ten. He never runs out of things to say to turn your brain to mush.

“I know, I know. One more, darling.”

Gorgeous, slender hands. Firm hands. Hands that get to places you weren't even sure existed. Hands that have you trembling at the legs and begging and sweating.

Loves it when you break out the dominance. Has an attitude about it, too. You could always knock it out of him with a couple of ropes and a silk tie in the mouth if you so chose. What a treat.

Whimpers when he gives in. Whines. Squeezes his eyes shut and tips his head back and begs and pants and purrs and lets your name tumble out his mouth. He's good. He knows it. Sometimes, you're better. He knows it.

Shane 🍺🍕🐓

He’s rough. Punishing. He drinks sometimes, but not often any more. He has a new favourite place to put all that hate - a place that loves it, that snaps it up and keeps on coming back for more. You’re more enticing than any other high he’s ever chased.

Wants you hard and messy and often. He can’t ever get enough. There are days when it’s all he thinks about, how he needs it, needs it, needs it so fucking bad. Days when he arrives at the farm early, unannounced, saying nothing. He doesn’t have to speak. You always know how to soothe that ache.

Strong as a bull. He knows it. Holds you down and lifts you and pins you against walls like it’s nobody’s business. He’s wide, has thick everything, and has muscle to boot. Big rough hands. Around your neck, gripping your hips with force. He wants to touch every inch, wants to sink his fingers so deep and bruising into your flesh that you become one person.

Not loud, but fuck if he doesn’t grunt, growl, swear. Sounds like an animal. Fucks a lot like one too.

Mean. Rude. Blunt. Insulting, sometimes. You love it. He’s authoritative, commanding. You do as he asks, and he rewards you well.

“That feel good, sweet girl? Yeah?”

Praise. Kink. Turns his brain to fucking mush. Tell him how good he is. Tell him how well he treats you. Tell him how bad you want it. How hot he is. He can’t even speak. Words don’t come. He can’t function, can’t think, can’t do anything but fuck you harder. He’s an addict. Hearing those words from your lips is like opium.

And sometimes, he’s gentle. Sometimes, he’s sleepy and sore and lays behind you in bed and makes love to you lazily, naturally. Still strong, holding your legs apart, hands over your skin, but so, so loving and close, whispering to you how much he adores you, how good you make him feel.

“Man. You look uptight, farm girl. Stressful day on the job?” Sam asked you, taking a sip of his drink.

“You could say,” you replied. Harvey’s foot was still next to yours. You sat a little further back in the chair, shifting your weight, moving away from the covert touch. Every day was hard since the beach. You felt like you couldn’t eat or sleep or work properly, like there was this ache in your chest you just couldn’t get away from. You caught Harvey’s gaze for a moment. Intense, wine-dark eyes. You wanted him so badly this evening.

“Sounds like you need a night out,” Shane smiled coyly. “Y’know. Unwind, relax a little. Don’t go home so early this evening.”

“What you saying, Shane? She should come back to yours instead?” Sam grinned boyishly, and Shane chuckled with the raise of one eyebrow, shifting his arm from the back of your chair to your waist to tug you closer for a friendly hug. Now that you’d broken through Shane’s thick layer of ice, you’d started coaxing him into talking to the other residents of the valley, sugar coated with the promise of a laugh and a couple of drinks. You could tell he was playfully gearing up to make himself the butt of the joke - for all the hard emotional work he’d done since you’d started becoming friends, he couldn’t quite let go of making fun of himself. You acquiesced. Seeing him talking to the others was enough for you; you wouldn’t deprive him of at least using all that self-hatred to be funny, since he wasn’t planning on giving it up altogether any time soon. You could see Harvey bristling out of the corner of your eye.

Your brain had been teetering between two lines of thinking for some time now: one part of you wanted to lean into it, to see if you could make him jealous enough to snap. And the other part? The other part said if he won’t do it, what gives him the right to look at you that way? Strange path to walk. Funny how quickly the sharp stab of desire could turn to resentment. At least if you stopped liking Harvey altogether, you could stop fucking thinking about him all the time. Maybe eat properly. Sleep well. Stop daydreaming like a hormonal teenager. Move on.

“Peace and love, Shane, but I’m not sure I want to bruise myself on all the empty beer bottles that are probably hidden in between your mattress and your blankets,” you raised an eyebrow and Shane put his hand to his heart in mock offense before returning it to the small of your back. The table erupted in giggles.

Leah had a hand over her mouth and was tearing up with laughter, Elliott next to her snickering into his drink. Harvey wore a wry smile which looked like it was taking some effort to uphold. You followed his gaze. He was tapping his fingers on the table and looking directly at where Shane’s hand rested on your waist.

Unfortunately, he looked absolutely devastating this evening. Blazer discarded over his chair, shirt sleeves rolled up, a glass of wine or two having put a healthy colour in his cheeks. His curls were a soft, golden brown in the light. His tie was crooked. You thought about leaning across to fix it for him like you would before the beach, and then decided against it. Guilty guilty guilty. The road to Hell was, as they said, paved with good intentions, and simmering just below the urge to fix the red bit of fabric was a very strong ulterior motive to touch his shoulders, something you absolutely should not have been considering. You drank a fairly large glug of beer instead. The way things were going, you’d probably end up strangling him while you were at it anyway.

“Really are looking to let the hair down, ain’tcha?” Shane whistled at the speed of your drinking. “Not that I’m complainin’. Nice-lookin’ hair to let down.”

You glanced at Harvey, who was looking at the table, expression laced with acid.

“You all right, darling?” Elliott asked. You clenched your jaw with a nod at the redhead over the top of your beer.

“Probably just kinda high-brow for this conversation,” Abigail sipped her drink. “City girl and everything. She’s got a degree, you know. I’m not sure our favourite farmer is the type to discuss who she wants to get freaky with. Besides, there are better ways to de-stress than making out with Shane. Making out with me, for example, since I don’t smell like chickens and pizza boxes.” The table erupted in peals of laughter again.

“Oh, come on,” you put your head in your hands and let yourself sigh.

“Hey, let’s take five. You ain’t actin’ yourself.” Shane motioned to stand. “Come let me buy you another drink.” He patted you on the shoulder and manoeuvred you over to the bar. Harvey’s eyes followed you all the way. “Y’alright? You seem… kinda out of it.”

“Yeah, no, I’m… it’s as I said, just stressed.” Harvey was not on the cards. He was not on the cards. You had put him in that position. And yet, that other voice in your head, circling your mind like a vulture. If he doesn’t want it, why is he still making you feel like this?

Shane took you by surprise and put his hand on your waist, pulling you into a hug. His hand stroked your hair, the other on your back again. You could see Harvey’s face reddening as you looked over his shoulder. “You’re a bad liar,” he muttered quietly into your ear.

You sighed and pulled away. “Gus, can I have a whiskey?” The bartender smiled and nodded.

“Been seein’ a certain someone makin’ eyes at ya for weeks. Gotta make a girl, y’know… feel some kinda way, huh?” He raised his eyebrows briefly, suggestively, at you, waiting for a response.

You frowned. “Just don’t know how to feel is all. I, um… we sort of… something happened a while ago. And we’ve not talked about it since. And when it happened he was all ‘this isn’t right’ and then was going to go through with it anyway, and now he’s doing this whole ‘holier than thou’ thing because, you know, I’m his patient. And because he probably doesn’t want a controversial younger girlfriend. Or whatever.”

“Seen the way he stares at ya. Ain’t nothin’ holy about that,” Shane turned towards the bar and rested his forearms on the varnished wood, looking up at the empty wine bottles lining the wall as decoration. “I’m sorry darlin’.” It was genuine. “And just so you know,” he grinned, eyes crinkling at the edges, “I’d be real fuckin’ pissed off if I were you. You ain’t a kid. Anyone with a pair of workin’ eyes can see that,” he sent you another soft wink and you laughed. “I can see how that would make you feel a little…” He poked his tongue into his cheek in thought, assessing the next words. “Hot under the collar. So to speak.”

“You can say that again,” you said through your teeth. “Haven’t so much as been on a date since. Or before. But we don’t need to talk about that.”

“Damn. Got it bad, huh?” He grinned and clapped your shoulder.

You groaned dramatically and put your forehead on the bar. He snorted a laugh, and then was silent for a moment.

“Baby, if you just need a little quick, hard and messy, I’m all yours, y’know,” his voice was lower when he spoke this time. You could see him glancing around to check whether anyone was in earshot.

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks, looking up; Shane was looking absently down at his hands, flicking his lighter. “Come again?”

“You heard.” The corner of his mouth turned up in a charming, tempting smile, and he looked towards you. “Tell ya what. If he ain’t gonna work for it, we’ll just have to show him what he’s missin’.” He put a comforting palm on your knee. “You want me to stop, just let me know. And if you don’t,” he pulled up a bar stool to sit closer to you, leaning in towards your ear, “then we can take this back to yours, and I can show ya just what it’s like to be with a man of his word.” The southern drawl was soft and honest. “Ain’t gotta be any feelings involved. Just a little stress relief.” You looked over his shoulder as Harvey poured himself another wine. Gus put your whiskey on the bar. You slammed it.

He was right. He was so right, actually. You did have a right to be kind of pissed off. So what if you had a massive crush on Harvey? What were you even hoping to accomplish by holding out for him when all he was ever going to do was get jealous and not address whatever had happened on the beach? So what if you wanted to take someone home? Harvey could have had you. He’d had plenty of time, he’d had plenty of courage spare in that stupid cave. If he’d wanted it - really wanted it - he would have taken it. You could feel yourself starting to get pleasantly buzzed from the alcohol, felt heat creeping into your cheeks.

“We’ve decided we’re gonna play a little game,” Abigail announced lightheartedly as you returned to the table, Sam and Sebastian nodding enthusiastically. “We’re gonna go around and share some secrets about each other, and then guess who they’re about.”

“Sounds dangerous,” you replied, sitting a little closer to Shane than last time. His arm returned to the back of your chair, thumb grazing your back.

“All right, I’ll go first,” the purple haired girl folded her arms and leaned back in thought. “Someone at this table is really into older men.” You felt your cheeks turning red. This was an awful idea.

“Has to be Sam, right?” Shane chimed. Laughter erupted.

“Right, suuuure,” Sam looked between you and Shane. “I think there’s an obvious answer. Dilf enthusiast over here.” Sam poked you across the table. More giggles from the table. You hid your face in your hand, giving Abigail a playful shove. Peeking through your fingers, you could see Harvey’s eyes darkening across the table. Shane was chuckling into your ear, arm coming forward to settle gently around your shoulders.

“Not sure I needed to be told,” he said softly, rough voice heavy with charisma. He glanced over at Harvey, who you saw meet his eyes. Your move, said Shane’s steady gaze.

“All right. Sam, you go next.”

“Uhh… Sam furrowed his brow. “Someone at this table… has a secret romantasy collection.”

“Elliott,” Leah blurted, immediately covering her mouth, and Elliott snorted with laughter.

“Inspiration strikes at the oddest of content,” he threw his hands up. “If it’s a princess and a stablehand getting it on in an enchanted rose garden then so be it.” Peals of laughter.

“My turn,” Elliott said. He looked down and stroked his chin as if deliberating. “How personal am I getting?” You suddenly felt a ball of nerves inside your chest. You had an awful gut feeling you knew what was coming.

“Go on, be mean,” Sebastian said, with that quiet, curious tone you knew well.

“I once saw,” Elliott grinned, resting his face innocently in one hand, elbow propped on the table, “two people at this table in an incredibly compromising position in a cave by the beach.”

Your face drained of colour. A chorus of “oooooh” sounded at the table. You tried your best to look natural. You weren’t sure how well it was working.

“Has to be Sam and Sebastian, right?” Abigail smirked. Laughter again.

“I’ll be damned if I ever fuck in a cave.” Sebastian spoke flatly, eliciting more titters.

“I’ll be damned if I ever fuck Sebastian,” Sam retorted.

“Hm. Well, two suspects eliminated. By the skin of their teeth,” Abigail said lightly. “I’m not really a cave dwelling type myself, at least not in a romantic sense. Can’t be Harvey, surely?” she wondered aloud. “I imagine you like to keep it sterile, huh, Doc?” Harvey swallowed nervously and said nothing, just sipped his wine. “Oh my God, it’s soooo Shane. You’re not above caves, are you? And I’m sure Little Miss Minecart over here wouldn’t mind it either,” she raised her eyebrows.

“As much as I like our darlin’ farmer,” Shane smiled slightly, “I’ll have to say it wasn’t me.” He returned his hand to the small of your back, giving your hip a small squeeze. Harvey’s hair was practically standing on end at this. He was looking at you like a wolf looks at a piece of meat.

“So farmer and… someone. Doesn’t really narrow it down frankly. Could be any one of us. Not me though. Obviously.”

“Harvey? You wanna go next?” Shane asked jovially. A challenge. The doctor drew in a long breath, deep in thought for a moment.

“I suspect that someone at this table,” Harvey spoke up, never looking at you, “gets off on calling me ‘Doctor’.” Stunned silence followed.

“Fuck,” Sebastian’s jaw was on the floor. Silence for a few seconds. “That really is kinda hot honestly.”

“Mystery solved,” Leah giggled. Harvey’s eyes pierced into yours as Sebastian argued with the table.

“Didn’t know you were into those sortsa things,” Shane purred into your ear, and your stomach tied itself into knots. “I know it’s you. Dirty girl.” His thumb stroked at your upper thigh next to your hip. You couldn’t help it. You hadn’t meant to say it that day at the beach but it had just come tumbling out.

“‘Scuse me, just going to run out for some air,” Harvey announced.

“Yeah, I’ll come for a smoke,” you said quickly. “You got a cigarette, Shane?”

“Anything for you, sweet cheeks,” he dug in his pockets and handed you a packet of Camels and a lighter, and followed Harvey to the door.

Outside in the quiet, Harvey lit up his own smoke. He didn’t look at you.

“Harvey?” you tried. He didn’t say anything, just took another drag. “Harvey,” you walked towards him, “Talk to me, what the hell is going on? Why the fuck did you say th-”

He pushed you back against the wall, holding your shoulders against the brick of the saloon. You fell silent, his breath heavy with cigarette smoke and wine. You thought that he might kiss you then, that it might have worked, that he might pick you up and whisk you back to the clinic, that he might lock his door behind him and prove that you were all his, that only he could make you feel like this.

“Is he fucking you?” It was a soft sentence from deep in the back of his throat, almost a whisper. You felt your chest tighten. It wasn’t husky. It wasn’t the kind of low, tempting question which could be a prelude to something good and hot and dangerous. It was the kind of soft, quiet rage only Harvey could possibly muster.

“You’re drunk.” You spoke the realisation out loud. Your heart sank. This was about as honest as you were going to get him.

“Answer me.” He was almost shaking, ash falling from his smoking cigarette.

You opened your mouth for a second to try to form an answer, blood rushing to your cheeks as he held you tight against the wall. “I- well, y-you’re not fucking me. So I can’t see how it’s your problem.”

“It’s my problem because he’s a piece of shit,” Harvey spat, the end of his cigarette lighting his furious face.

“Harvey,” you said, incredulous. “What the fuck are you on about? He’s your patient too. Don’t be so fucking cruel.” You pushed him off. “You don’t know him. Certainly not like I do.”

“I know him well enough to know he isn’t good for you.” He tapped ash from the end of the Marlboro. “I doubt most people know him as well as you do,” he said with no small amount of snark, cigarette back between his teeth.

“You jealous fucking ass,” you hissed through your teeth. “‘What’s good for me’? You’ve had every chance on the fucking planet to take me home and that’s all you can manage. As if it’s any of your goddamn business.”

“Oh, right, every chance. Every chance is pretty fucking rich when every time I see you you’re practically sitting on his lap.” He smoked again.

“You wait up all night to come and fetch me from the desert,” you snarled at him. He stopped in his tracks and looked at you. “I’m not fucking stupid, Harv, I know you do. You know where I live, you know when I work, you know when I sleep, you know when I come to the bar. I come into your office at least twice a week, every week. So yeah, you have had every chance.”

He pursed his lips and turned away to smoke again.

“You could have dragged me out of here at any point tonight and taken me home,” you hissed at him, stepping closer. “You live alone above the clinic, for God’s sake, you could have taken me upstairs after work for a goddamn hour or six any time you wanted. You could have dropped by some evening, or some morning, or I don’t know, any fucking time. You could have had me against this wall in the time we’ve had this conversation. But you won’t, will you, you total idiot?”

“No. I won’t. Because what kind of asshole would I be to take advantage of someone who’s - what, ten years younger than me?”

“The same kind of asshole who would have fucked me until I couldn’t walk at the beach if Elliott hadn’t arrived,” you snapped. He brought his cigarette to his mouth again, hand trembling. “So. There it is. You know I want it. You know you want it. I don’t think moral high ground has anything to do with it. You’d have got what you wanted by now if you weren’t such an insecure fucking coward.” You looked through the window to see Shane walking towards the door, and stepped closer to the tall doctor. “If you won’t, I’ll go home tonight with someone who will.”

Harvey glowered down at you for a moment, and then brushed past you, throwing his cigarette butt on the damp ground, and opened the saloon door, trembling, stared down Shane for a moment before entering the building and slammed the door behind him. Shane took the cigarette out of your hands and took a drag, backing you up slowly, methodically, against the wall and putting his hands either side of your head. He blew smoke to the side of you.

“Bad news?” he leaned forward, a good couple of inches taller than you, to press his lips against that little area behind your ear. You sighed.

“You guessed it. He fucking hates you, dude.”

“Too bad, baby,” Shane stroked your cheek roughly and offered a smile. “Ah, that’s okay. I ain’t exactly the most likeable guy.” He winked softly and put the cigarette to his mouth, taking another drag and then returning it to your own lips with two fingers, hands coming to rest rough on your hips, thumbs squeezing your waist. “I’d love you to tell me all about that time in the cave. I knew it was you and him by the way his ears got all red. Sounds hot. Maybe you could talk me through it tonight, work out some of those town doctor-related frustrations, huh, sweet cheeks?” You laughed lightly, desire burning you up. You’d prefer it was Harvey tonight, and Shane knew it and he didn’t care, and he was still attractive, all big hands and Southern charm and broad shoulders. You liked him. You needed something, and he was glad to be whatever you wanted him to be for a while. “C’mon, let’s finish that drink.”

*****

I absolutely loved writing this. Hope you likey. More of our favourite chunky and hunky JojaMart minimum wage employee next time, folks (a good few inches more, in fact), so make sure you're tuned in and ready to use Tumblr dot com with one hand only.