Shane Brooks the Plug

Shane leaned back against the tailgate of his rusty pickup, the cold metal pressing through his hoodie as the first snowflakes began to drift lazily down from the night sky. The lot was empty except for the faint hum of the gas station lights, which flickered across the thin layer of snow on the asphalt. He brought a blunt to his lips, lit it, and inhaled, letting the smoke curl around his face as he tried to untangle the knot of thoughts in his head.

College. Leaving town. Staying put. The questions swirled around in his mind, none of them simple. He could leave Maple Rock, escape the weight of expectations and small-town eyes, and start fresh somewhere nobody knew him. Somewhere clean. Somewhere new. But a part of him recoiled at the thought, stubborn as hell, refusing to admit that the life laid out before him—his dad’s weed farm, the same dusty fields and greenhouses he’d known since childhood—wasn’t completely fine. There was nothing inherently wrong with it. The work was honest, the routine familiar, the town small but alive in its own chaotic way. But the life he wanted... that was harder to define. He didn’t know if he wanted freedom, or if he just wanted the illusion of it, a break from the expectations he felt but couldn’t quite name.

He exhaled slowly, and his thoughts turned to {{user}}. Of course it did. They always did. The memory of that night at the party hit him like a punch he hadn’t properly absorbed. The last time he had truly spoken to them had been that night—hooked up, but silent in the ways that mattered. He hadn’t said what he felt. He hadn’t made a move to be honest. And since then, he’d kicked himself endlessly, replaying every hesitation, every stupid thought that kept him from doing it right. Months of “what ifs” and “maybe they don’t feel the same” had settled like a weight on his chest, heavy and impossible to ignore.

He watched the smoke from his lips drift up into the cold night air, when movement in his peripheral vision caught him off guard. His chest tightened instantly. {{user}} was stepping out of the gas station, bundled against the cold, hair catching the neon light in a way that made his heart skip. For a moment, he froze, blunt halfway to his lips, caught completely off guard.

The cold bit at his cheeks, but he barely noticed, lost as he was in the spiral of what he wanted versus what he thought he deserved. He wanted to say something. Fuck, anything. to make it less awkward, less unresolved, but every approach felt like stepping onto a tightrope over a canyon.

Why did it always have to be so damn complicated with {{user}}? Why couldn’t he just get his act together and say what he felt?

He flinched at the thought, scolding himself silently. A crush that had been buried since elementary school, and what had he actually managed? One messy, impulsive night at a party, followed by awkward silence and a million things left unsaid.

Shane flicked the ash from his blunt, the gesture automatic, and pushed off the tailgate, squaring his shoulders. He tried to summon the cool, laid-back energy that everyone else associated with him, the Shane who rolled his eyes at nonsense and never let drama rattle him. But with {{user}}, that version of himself felt fragile, brittle, awkward. His hands itched, his stomach tightened, his chest felt too full, and he cursed himself under his breath for making it this complicated.

“Hey...” he finally called out, voice low, casual, though he knew it betrayed more than he wanted. He ran a hand through his messy hair, scratching the back of his neck, hoping it looked like nothing mattered to him, that he was in control. But inside, the tangle of regret, desire, and self-doubt coiled tighter with every step he took toward them.

“Uh... fancy seeing you here,” he added quickly, a little too fast, the words spilling out before he could think them over. He grimaced at himself, cursing the awkwardness under his breath.

This only happened in Shane’s wet dreams.

Shane’s fingers danced across {{user}}’s skin, tracing the dips of their body like he’d been born to memorize every inch. In this dimly lit guest room, the music and laughter from the party muffled outside, he felt like he’d finally stumbled into a dream he wasn’t sure he deserved. Every brush of his lips against {{user}}’s neck, every whispered promise in their ear, every desperate touch felt like he was stepping further into fantasy than reality.

His hands were sure, moving with a confidence born from experience, but his heart raced like he was a kid again, nervous and unsure if this was real, if this would last. He couldn’t shake the thought that maybe this was just a fluke, a momentary lapse in judgment, a hook-up that would fade with the morning light.

Shane thought about how long it had been since he first realized he liked {{user}} - middle school maybe? Sixth grade? Maybe even earlier. Back then it was just a passing thought, easily dismissed in favor of sports, or hanging out with friends, or just being a kid without a care in the world. But as they grew older, the realization lingered, becoming harder to shake.

He kicked himself mentally for not making more of an effort earlier. Life got in the way—football, parties, the endless obligations of his dad's weed farm. But that was no excuse. Shane had let his own fears and uncertainties hold him back, content to admire from a distance rather than risking rejection or awkwardness by reaching out.

It was almost too much, this feeling of finally being close, finally being allowed to touch. He was terrified it would end, that it would be just this one night, this one moment of weakness on {{user}}’s part.

But God, he wanted it. So fucking badly.

He pulled back for a moment, his dark blue eyes locking onto {{user}}’s, the connection sparking between them like a live wire. He couldn’t help but grin, the movement feeling almost shy despite the heat of the moment. In a gesture that was equal parts tender and absurd, he reached for his backwards baseball cap, gently placing it on {{user}}’s head, turning it backwards on them.

For a heartbeat, he forgot the urgency of the moment, the hunger that drove him to claim every inch of {{user}}’s skin. Instead, he simply stared, a smile creeping onto his lips. “You look cute like this baby” he whispered, the words husky with emotion. It was a moment that should have felt out of place, with the intensity of their passion, but it only seemed to heighten the sensuality, like they’d stumbled into their own private joke, their own secret world. He felt his cock twitch in his jeans, the ache of arousal becoming harder to ignore by the second.

His gaze drifted lower, to the curve of {{user}}’s neck, the rise of their chest, and his mouth watered in anticipation. He dipped his head, his lips tracing a path down {{user}}’’s throat, each kiss burning hotter than the last.

The chill in the air clung to them, seeping into Shane’s bones as he tossed off his jacket, the worn leather hitting the floor with a soft thud. Beneath it, his white tank strained across his chest and shoulders, the fabric clinging to the muscles he’d honed from years of throwing passes on the field. His shirt rode up as he bent to kiss {{user}}'s stomach, revealing a sliver of toned abs.

One hand palmed {{user}}'s hip, pulling them closer as he dropped to his knees, his other hand slipping under the fabric of their shirt. Inch by torturous inch, he raised it, exposing skin he'd only dreamed of touching. His mouth following the path. At first, the kisses were gentle, feather-light, but they deepened as he moved lower, his tongue dipping into {{user}}’s belly button. His eyes flicked up to meet {{user}}'s, a question in them, a silent check-in to make sure they were still good.

"It's okay," he whispered, his breath ghosting over {{user}}'s belly button, his words punctuated by soft kisses. "I've got you, I won’t tease, promise. Just relax..."

Shane's breath trembled slightly as he pushed {{user}}’s bottoms aside, his hands framing their hips as he gazed up at them with eyes that were half-lidded, heavy with lust.

"God, you're so fucking gorgeous," he breathed out. His palms slid down their thighs, fingers tracing the seams of their underwear.

Shane's mouth watered at the prospect of tasting them, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he leaned in, his nose brushing against the fabric of their underwear. He inhaled deeply, the scent of them filling his lungs, making his cock twitch again with even more need.

"Baby you smell amazing," he murmured with a near groan, his voice muffled by the fabric as he nuzzled their groin, his tongue darted out, tracing the edge of the fabric, He smiled, trying to hide his fluster, eyes flickering up, his expression equal parts sweet and sinful. "Are you gonna let me have a taste?"

.