A Gunsmoke Story

POV: Kitty

The Long Branch was no stranger to action of just about every kind. It was a rare evening that didn’t see the doors finally being locked long after midnight. To a casual observer this particular night wouldn’t appear much different than any other, but most of the observers weren’t casual. In fact most them weren’t observers at all, but full-fledged participants in the festivities that practically rattled the rooftop.

They were deep into a spirited celebration, orchestrated by the citizens of Dodge to welcome back the man most considered to be the face – and the heart – of Dodge City. Even the mayor was present, proclaiming Matt’s return as nothing less than a miracle and declaring that he would set everyone up for a round of drinks – but just one round, of course.

The trip hadn’t been easy, four days of rough stage and train travel with Matt enduring it stoically but not fooling any of them, and Doc muttering, “I told you so,” over every stifled grunt or grimace. As soon as the train pulled into Dodge, Kitty had intended to whisk her stubborn marshal off to bed – strictly for rest, but to the surprise of all of them, a huge crowd waited at the depot, hustling them to the Long Branch revelry.

That had been over three hours ago, and although the crowd had thinned some, the party was still going full blast. As the evening wore on, Kitty cast quick, concerned glances toward the honoree, who, despite the smile on his face, looked like he was on his last reserves of energy. While the latest piano player Sam hired pounded out a lively tune that sounded like a confusion of “Camp Town Races” and “Oh, Susannah,” the celebrants danced and drank and slapped their resurrected hero on the back until Kitty saw the grimace tighten his lips and intervened.

“Okay, fellas,” she reminded, sliding between Matt and the well-wishers. Closer to him now, she could hear the slightly labored breathing, see the dots of perspiration. “How ya’ doing, Cowboy?” Her tone was light; her eyes were not.

When he managed only a nod, she stood decisively. As much as they both appreciated the affection the town was showing, it was time to call it a night. Most likely if Doc hadn’t been called away to set the broken leg of a drunk drover, he would have insisted on it even earlier.

Leaning in so that her lips were next to his ear, she whispered, “Give me a few minutes to lock up and we can go upstairs.” Even though everyone in Dodge knew how it was between their marshal and saloon owner, she and Matt still tried to be as discreet as possible.

Tonight, though, he surprised her. “Why don’t we just go on up now?”

“What?”

“Let’s just go on up now.”

Just go on up now? While everyone was still there? While everyone could see him climb those stairs and know exactly whose room he was going to? And know exactly – well maybe not exactly – what he would be doing, and with whom?

“Matt?” she asked, suddenly worried that maybe he couldn’t wait until she ran everyone out. Maybe he was about to collapse right then.

But his smile was steady enough, even if his hands shook slightly and his eyes were dark and red-rimmed with fatigue. “I want to,” he said simply. “Maybe you could – help me?” Pushing up from the table, he stood and lifted his left arm in invitation for her to slide beneath it.

It was a blatant demonstration for anyone watching, and it stunned her. “Are you sure, Matt? It won’t take long to close up – “

“I’m sure. No need to break up the party.”

Heart pounding with joy and with love, she eased her body next to his, slipping her right arm around his waist and letting him guide them toward the stairs. The front stairs. They took them slowly. He grunted a couple of times as he pushed to make the climb. About halfway up, Kitty turned to give a final glance back, surprised to see that no one paid them a bit of attention. No one except Festus, who nodded and gave her a satisfied grin.

XXXX

They were gritty from the small bits of soot that were common to rail riders, but Kitty could see Matt was too far gone to take the time for a nice, hot bath, as comforting as that might have been. He stumbled twice on the stairs, his face draining whiter with each misstep. No, bed was his first stop tonight. Leaning heavily against the doorframe as she opened up, he favored her with an exhausted smile when she eased an arm back around his waist to help him in.

“I’m all right, Kitty,” he assured her, but his tone didn’t convince either of them.

“Sure you are.” She watched as he eased his long frame onto the bed, his hands reaching up to the top button of his shirt. Unable to resist, she brushed away his fingers and took on the task herself, her eyes holding his in a connection of love that almost immediately flamed into passion. Carefully, she slid the shirt over his shoulders, unable to keep from wincing as she looked down at the raw scars that had finally started to heal, thanks to Alice’s persistence and Doc’s expertise. A strong hand reached out and tugged her chin back up, and she melted into his gaze once more. It had been almost three months since they had been alone – truly alone – together. Slowly, Matt leaned in until his lips touched hers, a tender caress, a gentle press. Kitty returned it in kind, her heart trembling with the need to fall against him, to feel his body against her, inside her. But he wasn’t in any condition –

The pressure of his lips intensified suddenly, and his mouth opened, his tongue searched. His arms tugged her into him so that her hands were trapped against his chest. Taking advantage, she flattened her palms against the hard planes and gave in to the kiss, noting absently how his beard scratched softly against her face, how the mustache tickled her nose. Then he leaned back, pulling her with him, and she didn’t notice anything else except her hunger for his touch.

“Matt,” she gasped, her mind scolding her for her weakness, her body urging her on. “We – we can’t – you can’t – “ But the swollen ridge that pressed urgently into her thighs told her that he could, he most definitely could.

“Kitty,” he groaned in between kisses, “it’s been so long.”

Long and hard, she thought wickedly, but didn’t say it.

She ached, a pulsing, delicious ache, one she had been afraid she might never have the chance to feel with him again. But there it was, just as intense as always, just as insistent, just as incredible. She ground against him harder, her tongue licking at his earlobe, her left hand tugging at the light spread of hair on his chest.

“Ki-tty – “ She felt him rock hard against her, could tell he was close, too close.

Her fingers worked to tug at the buttons of his pants, which was easier said than done with the material straining so powerfully against the fabric. After a moment of concerted effort, they gave, and she slipped inside to grip him through his long johns.

No time – and no need – for seduction. His fingers pulled at her clothing. Her hands tore at his trousers and underwear, shoving them just far enough past his hips to liberate his eager erection, which thrust out hungrily. He kissed his way down her body with the noble intention of leading her to climax first, but she shook her head and urged him back up, even as her body screamed for immediate completion.

“No, Matt. Together. Now.”

“Yes,” he groaned.

Moving over her, he positioned himself at her entrance, but she was still coherent enough to remember his wounds and urged him onto his back so that she straddled him, her fingers grasping the hot, throbbing shaft, guiding him inside. She was more than ready for him, her excitement making his path smooth and swift, despite their time apart and his daunting girth. As he filled her, the intense burst of sensation drew his name from her lips in a torturous gasp.

She writhed above him, her thighs clamped around his hips as he thrust inside her, grunting in rhythm with her gasps. She celebrated the amazing feel of him driving into her heat and pulling back out, over and over. Leaning down, she let her breasts press against his chest with each deep push. Her hips jerked, and her legs squeezed him, and she felt the first frantic convulsions of her inner muscles around his throbbing shaft.

“Matt!” she cried out. “Oh, yes!”

He pumped harder, reached a hand between them to add to her pleasure. She groaned, her head thrown back, her hands clutching his shoulders until his pained grunt reminded her of his injuries. Then, the burst of release hit her, rushed with shuddering power through her body. His movements accelerated, hotter, slicker, and she was still arching against him when she heard his cry and felt the first pulses shoot through his thick shaft to explode at her center. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. They were locked in place, muscles seizing with each violent spurt, concentrated on where he burned inside her, again and again until they both surrendered to the overwhelming sensations and collapsed, breath heaving, hearts racing.

XXXX

A gray dawn peeked through the curtains of her bedroom as Kitty awoke slowly, focusing on the sensations that touched her: the warmth of Matt’s strong body beside her, the moistness between her legs, evidence of their passion. He groaned in his sleep, and she turned instantly at the sound, worried. “Matt?” But his forehead was cool when she laid a gentle hand on it.

Sitting cross-legged next to him, she let her eyes trace over his body, her own skin tingling at the memory of their frenzied coupling. Matt was usually a gentle, tender lover, but last night they had both been too impatient and too excited to take the time for tenderness. She winced a little at the twinge of soreness, but smiled because it was a wonderful soreness. His long body was sprawled on the bed, one arm over his head, the other across his stomach. The covers had twisted so that his right leg stretched exposed, the neat bandage Doc had wrapped around his hard thigh not so neat anymore. She studied his face, the strong planes still distinguishable even under the beard, his features softened in sleep, his mouth slightly open. She had watched him like this before – many times, in fact – and always imagined what he must have looked like as a boy, what his own son might look like. What their son might look like.

Pushing away the sharp pang that twisted in her chest, she shook her head, knowing better than to dwell on such a fruitless thought, berating herself for letting it take away from the moment. She had long ago accepted the way it was, the way it had to be. There was no need to start imagining something that would never happen.

Instead, she eased from the bed and pushed open the curtains, relieved that the overcast day was easy on her eyes. Rummaging through the contents of his saddlebags, she pulled out the appropriate accoutrements. Another groan, this one not as pain-filled, drew her attention back to the bed, and she found him watching her, blue eyes hooded from sleep, hair tousled, a half-grin on his lips.

Despite all the years of intimacy they had shared, she found herself blushing under his intense gaze. “Morning,” she greeted, placing the items on the table by the bed and leaning in to kiss him, but pulling back before the touch could escalate as rapidly as it had the night before. She had business to attend to first.

He grunted in disappointment, lifting his chin toward the table and its contents. “What’s that?”

“Your shaving kit. I thought you might want to see your face again.”

“I would have done that already, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to keep it or not,” he said, rubbing a hand over the thick beard. “You seemed to like it.”

“Oh, I do,” she allowed, letting her hand join his. “I surely do, but I like it naked, too.”

He paused, throwing her a mischievous look. “Are we still talking about my face?”

A heated smirk curved her lips. “Maybe.” Taking the lathered brush, she sat on the edge of the bed and leaned toward him.

With mild alarm, he asked, “Kitty, what are you – “

“I’m going to shave you.”

“I can – “

“I know you can, but it’s more fun this way.”

His wary expression revealed skepticism.

“Trust, me, Cowboy,” she breathed, kissing him so she could feel the beard against her one last time. “You’re gonna enjoy this.”

Using easy, circular strokes, she covered the left side of his face in the lather, then replaced the brush in the cup and reached for the straight razor.

“Uh, Kitty, are you sure – “

“Just hold still,” she instructed, raising the instrument. She had to take it slowly, knowing that the thickness of his beard would require frequent wipes of the blade. As the razor scraped down his jaw with steady, confident motions, he relaxed, his eyes gazing up at her with undisguised desire.

“Watch it, mister,” she cautioned. “You don’t want to distract me.” But the intimacy of the act as she stroked down his face had already sped up her heart rate.

“But you’re distracting me,” he accused.

She wasn’t sure what he meant until she followed his gaze downward and noticed the generous bulge that pushed at the sheet covering his lap. “You keep that up, and I won’t be responsible for what your face looks like when I’m done.”

He opened his mouth as if to shoot her a retort, but when she pinned him with a look and swung the razor a bit lower, he flinched and pulled the heavier quilt across his groin. “Yes, ma’am.”

With each subsequent graze across his skin, her body tingled. As she exposed more and more of the strong jaw, she began to doubt her ability to finish the job without rushing and inadvertently fulfilling his initial fears. Finally, as the last bit of hair was scoured from his neck, she laid down the razor and toweled off the remaining lather. He sat, grinning at her, even more handsome, just the hint of shadow where the beard had been, a reminder of its presence, should she desire to see it again.

“There,” she proclaimed, running a hand over the smooth skin.

“You happy now?” he asked.

“Wait.” She leaned forward, rubbing her cheek back and forth over the freshly shaved area, letting her lips brush his jaw, his neck. When she pulled back, he took a deep breath. “Okay, now I’m happy.”

“You could be happier,” he suggested.

“I could? How?”

She saw on his face that he wanted to show her, but suddenly, the boyish mischief disappeared into seriousness.

“Matt?” she prompted, the light banter gone.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he stood, pressing a hand against his shoulder for a moment before grabbing his trousers and tugging them on. Blowing out a hard breath, he said, “There’s something I need to – to talk to you about.”

A spark of fear flared in her. Every few years, usually after something happened that was life-threatening either to him, or – worse in his eyes – to her, he would get this idea that he was too much of a danger to her, that she would be better off leaving Dodge – or leaving him. Dear God, she prayed, please don’t let this be one of those times. Please don’t let him try to send her away with his misguided sense of honor and nobility.

Not trusting herself to say anything, she simply nodded tightly.

He didn’t seem to notice her sudden stiffness. “Being at Alice’s, seeing how she was – well, how they lived. And being around Petey – I just – I started thinking about – “ Limping to the window, he stood before it, bracing one arm against the frame.

Kitty waited, confused. He seemed nervous – unsure of himself. And she had never seen Matt Dillon unsure of anything. She watched as those broad shoulders squared, as he turned to face her, and the vulnerability in his eyes stunned her. “Matt?”

“Kitty, I’m not sure how to – how to say exactly what I want to – what I’m trying to say – “

What the hell? “Just say it, Matt. This is me.”

A rueful chuckle shook his chest. “Yeah. That’s why – “ He swallowed hard, as if squaring himself for the draw. “It’s just that I got to thinking that, well that if it had been you missing – if I was the one standing over what I thought was your – grave – “ His voice broke on the last word, and he paused, clenching his jaw hard to gather himself.

Kitty stared, incredulous, tears blurring her vision.

“Well, I wouldn’t be much use to anybody if you – without you.” The declaration was tantamount to an emotional outburst from the stoic marshal.

“Oh, Matt,” she breathed, wanting to fall into his arms, but sensing that he had more to say and giving him the room.

“We’ve talked about what the badge means, I know. And you’ve been – you’ve been more patient with me than I ever had a right to expect.”

“You never led me on,” she allowed. “You made it clear – the way it was. The way it is.“ She barely suppressed the grimace as she thought of how she almost made the biggest mistake of her life with Ad Bellum.

Dragging in a deep breath, he nodded. “I know, but it was still a lot to ask. And I can’t tell you I’m giving it up, yet. There’s still too much need out there, too much pull in me.”

She knew that. She also knew that in some ways the pull would always be in him. “I wouldn’t ask you to – “

“But I will give it up, Kitty. I promise you that. And I was kind of hoping that maybe – maybe when I did you might – you might still be around.”

They had never really talked about what might happen after he hung up the badge, had skirted around the subject, leaving a hope that was alive, but hazy, indistinct. And now here he was, directly addressing the issue that he had steadfastly avoided for fifteen years.

“And if you were around, you might be interested in hitching on with a used up lawman, start up a ranch or something and – “ He flushed. “And have a baby or two with him.”

What? What? It wasn’t often that Kitty Russell found herself speechless, but words wouldn’t come. She watched his face fall from hopefulness to uncertainty.

After an awkward moment, he stammered, backtracking. “But if you don’t, I understand – “

Shaking herself free from the momentary shock, she flung her arms around him. “Oh, Matt, how can you think I don’t – of course, I want to – oh, Matt!”

He stroked her hair, holding her hard against him as her palms pressed into the long muscles on either side of his spine. “Kitty, I haven’t said it nearly enough, but – I love you. I love you very much.”

“I love you, Matt. I love you so very much,” she choked out,

He held her tightly for another long moment before he pulled back, his voice firmer now, more confident. “So, I was thinking that for starters maybe instead of using the back stairs to visit, I might just go up the front ones like I did last night – if that’s all right.”

The man was just full of surprises. Smiling, she said, “You can swing on the chandelier and hang over the banister if you want to, Cowboy.” Then she laughed at the image her words provoked.

“I’m not sure I’m quite ready for that.”

“We’ll work on it,” she promised. They stood in silence for another few moments, the closeness between them prompting her to ask something that had niggled at her curiosity since before they left Alice’s house. “Matt?”

“Hmm?”

She twirled several hairs on his chest. “Can I ask you a question?”

“What?”

“Well, Alice Miller is a pretty woman.”

“That’s not a question.”

“No.”

“What do you want to know, Kitty?” he asked gently.

“She was smitten with you, you know.”

He smirked. “Smitten?”

“You know what I mean. I think she was in love with you, even though she denied it.”

His chin jerked up. “You talked to her about – “

“Oh, Matt, I’m not blind. Anyone could see the way she looked at you.” She licked her lips, her expression uneasy. She trusted Matt, but – “And she started to tell me something about – well, something that happened, something between you and her.”

“Kitty!” he protested, his hands reaching up to grasp her shoulders. “Nothing happened. How could you even think – “

She merely lifted a brow, remembering Alice’s aborted confession. “Nothing at all?”

He stepped back, wincing from physical pain or emotional, she couldn’t tell which. “Well, it wasn’t – she was – lonely, Kitty. I don’t think Rude – or Rudy – had treated her very well, and then here I came, and – “

“And you were – well, you were you.”

”Me?”

“A gentleman. Kind, compassionate. Not to mention very handsome and very tall,” she added with a pointed smile.

“Kitty, I promise you that nothing happened – “

“Nothing on your part, maybe.”

“She kissed me,” he admitted. “That was it. I was still pretty weak and she was helping me get back to the bed and it – it just happened. I stopped her – “

“After the kiss.”

“It was so fast, Kitty. I didn’t know what to do – “

Despite herself, she felt the flare of jealousy. “A pretty woman kissed you, and you didn’t know what to do? That’s not the Matt Dillon I know.”

“Kitty, I promise, I didn’t do anything – “

She knew that, of course, because she knew Matt. Reassured, she let a wicked impulse run through her. Pursing her lips, she took his hand and guided it to her breast, pressing her soft flesh into it. “You didn’t do this?” she asked huskily.

“No!” His hand jerked away as if it had actually been Alice’s breast he touched. “Of course not – “ But he paused, a sly smile curving his lips as he caught the tease in her tone, and he returned his fingers to squeeze gently. “No,” he repeated, his voice sliding into the same husky tone as hers. “I don’t think I did.”

Taking his other hand, she trailed it down her body to rest over her rounded buttocks. “Or this?”

“No.”

Arching forward, she urged his reawakened erection against her stomach, her own voice breathy. “Or this?”

He groaned, arching up. “Ah – n-no.”

“What else didn’t you do?” she murmured, her blood pounding.

The fire in his eyes sent a flame straight to the pit of her belly and she knew that she trembled as he slowly caressed a shoulder, then a thigh, then behind a knee. “I didn’t do this.”

He bent, his lips nibbling at a nipple, gently at first, then harder. Electrical pulses shot from her breasts to her groin. “Or this,” he breathed.

Trailing his mouth down her belly, he knelt, slipping his tongue over the hard bundle of nerves between her legs, flicking once, then twice until she groaned, clutching at his head, pulling him against her, her legs shaking, threatening not to support her. “Or this.”

Finally, he pressed inside her, softly at first, then with increasing pressure that accelerated the already surging sensations. Throbbing nerves screamed for him to let her go over, but he toyed with her, tapping, brushing, blowing, then stopping just as she reached the edge. “Or – “

“Please!” she gasped, neck arched back, legs buckling.

Standing, he shed his trousers with one movement, then swept her up into his strong arms. She was too far gone to protest that he would damage his tender wounds. She felt the rumpled linens beneath her bare skin just before he crawled over her, pausing only long enough to tease her wet, swollen folds before slowly pushing in, deeper and deeper until she couldn’t take him any farther. The sensation raced along her ravaged nerves and launched her into a dizzy ascent that could only end in orgasmic fireworks. Still teasing her unmercifully, he pumped hard, then slowed and held back. Sweat glistened on both their faces as she arched against him. She tried to thrust up, to relieve the almost unbearable ache in her loins, but he wouldn’t let her. He placed his big hand on her stomach and smiled down at her, and she gritted her teeth, fighting for control. It wasn’t easy. Again and again she knew she could not hang on and gasped his name, begging for release, but he controlled her with his hands, his voice.

“Matt!”

His name was torn from her throat as she reached the absolute limit of her endurance. As many years as they had been lovers, he knew that cry, and she knew he would hear the desperation in her voice. Sure enough, he pushed down hard, thrusting deep inside her and she cried out, trembling at the magnificent agony he had caused.

“Come with me, Kitty,” he coaxed, his own voice hoarse. “Come with me.”

She gritted her teeth and groaned, feeling him drive into her several more times before her tortured nerves realized they could let go. As the first wave of release washed over her, her breath caught and tears welled at her eyes. She bucked against him over and over, hands clawing at his hips, forcing her eyes open to watch his face contort with the torturous pleasure she was giving him.

His choked cry, ragged with emotion, echoed in the room as he came, hard bursts inside her again and again, his arms shaking, his hips bucking until they both froze with the final, nearly unbearable spasms. As the amazing sensation began to fade, she felt the usual pang of disappointment that it had to end, but reminded herself that she had just gotten him back. They had lots to make up for. Treasuring the feel of him still inside her, Kitty kissed his neck softly before letting her head fall back onto the pillow. After a few more moments, he pushed up, hissing.

“Matt?”

“I’m okay,” he assured her, but she saw him rub his thigh as he lay back and gathered her against his side.

“Matt?” she asked, suddenly feeling generous in her sated state.

His chest was already lifting in the deep steady rhythm that signaled his descent into slumber. “Hmm?”

He loved her. Whatever happened, she could never doubt that. “You don’t have to worry. I won’t hold you to that promise.”

For a moment he didn’t move, not even to breathe. She waited a beat. Then another. Finally, she heard him exhale, felt his lips brush against her forehead, his arms wrap around her possessively. Voice ragged with emotion, he said, “You’d better.”

New tears welled in her eyes at his simple, earnest assertion. Without another word, she laid an arm across his stomach, wondering if she might actually be glowing with the incredible joy she felt. In the swirling haze that preceded sleep, a dozen visions floated through her head: a disturbing vision of a lonely grave in Jeddo; a miraculous vision of a living, breathing Matt Dillon; a sensuous vision of passionate blue eyes, dark, curly hair, and hard, flexing muscles; and a final vision, the one she saw just before sleep claimed her – two children, laughing and twirling, with eyes that matched their father’s and hair that matched their mother’s. As consciousness faded, Kitty Russell smiled, her mind telling her that it was just a dream.

Her heart whispering that it was a hope.