Well hi! Shockingly I have more fic to share already. Blame it on my overactive imagination and all the kind feedback everyone left on my last piece! This is in fact a multi-part story, planned to run about five chapters or so. Nothing epic, but hopefully interesting and a bit hot. ;D
This is the first chapter, which serves as a bit of a prologue to the overall story. Hope you guys will like it!
Funky herbal tea that promotes a more 'fully restful' night's sleep? Check.
Fluffy comforter? Definitely check.
Husband? Non-check. He will be in Billings until tomorrow afternoon, and you are leaving for Jackson Hole on Thursday.
Inappropriate sexual thoughts about your boss? Check, check, and check again. Yeah. Like herbal tea is going to stop you from having 'those' dreams about Walt.
Vic had been having the dreams for a while now, and although they weren't the only reason why she was glad Sean was spending so much time away for work she could admit that they factored in. Waking up sweaty and tangled in the sheets after an imaginary sex romp with your superior officer was a lot less awkward without your actual husband lying next to you, it had to be said.
Sighing, she fell back against the pillows and glared at the chamomile-scented steam wafting from the mug on the bedside table. This was not helping. She didn't even like chamomile, and she was pretty sure the point of these so-called 'Celestial Seasonings' was not to make you angrier than you were before steeping the damn environmentally friendly stringless tree-hugging teabags.
Oh well. Maybe she wouldn't dream about… that… tonight anyway. Vic had eaten a deliberately bland diet throughout the day, nothing spicy and a simple salad for dinner. No cheese. Wasn't it cheese that gave you the crazy dreams?
She'd certainly had a doozie last week when she had recklessly wolfed down one of Henry's chili cheeseburgers at the Red Pony after forgetting to eat all day. The fact that she'd been joined at the hip with Walt all afternoon and evening hadn't helped on that occasion, especially not with him in the dark blue textured flannel shirt that just made her want to reach over and pet him.
Note to self: do not use the phrase 'joined at the hip' while entertaining thoughts of Walt. Just… don't.
Somewhere between arguing with herself about semantics and wondering who came up with the dumb idea of counting sheep to make people fall asleep at night Vic drifted off, slumped against the pillows with the blankets tucked up around her chest. Her slumber would be restful indeed, but her wishes for a dreamless sleep were destined to go unanswered…
xxx Vic's Dreamland xxx
"Walt just called, there's a situation at the Red Pony."
Vic flipped her untidy ponytail to the side, peeking at her newly acquired charge out of the corner of her eye as they traversed the gravel surface of the parking lot. The 'situation' was in hand, and his car keys were in his pocket where they evidently belonged. Walt wasn't drunk, not by Red Pony standards anyway. A bit tipsy, maybe. His body language was more relaxed than usual, his movements on the looser side like a big cat at play.
"Hope I didn't interrupt anything important," he drawled.
"Not much. Just some particularly breathtaking sex."
"I didn't know your husband was back in town. Anyway, I thought you two were fighting."
Were they really having this conversation? She threw him a look over her shoulder.
"We are. Which is why the sex was so magnificent."
"Well," he paused, clearly still sober enough to make sure the tailgate of his truck was locked as they passed by. "Then uhh… I'll have to apologize to your husband."
He might be under the legal limit for drunkenness, but the way he smiled at her just then should most definitely be considered an arrestable offense.
Raising an eyebrow, she pressed her lips together and twisted them to the side. "I'm pretty sure that's not such a good idea."
They walked the remaining few yards to Vic's truck side by side, his bicep brushing against her shoulder. "Why not? Seems like the polite thing to do."
Vic's higher consciousness was vaguely aware that this was not how the conversation had gone in real life. In real life Ruby had summoned them over the radio, and they would have been back to business and on their way to the Sublettes by now.
"Because he thinks I'm fucking you. That's why."
Walt pinned her with a drawn out look, seemingly unaffected by this piece of information. She broke the slightly unnerving eye contact, looking at her boots as he opened the passenger side door and poured himself into the truck.
The call from Ruby never came, and fifteen minutes later they had pulled up outside of Walt's cabin. He made no immediate move to leave the vehicle, so she put it in park and watched him glance out the window with his hands resting atop denim-clad thighs.
"You wanna come in for a few minutes? I can make you some coffee, or…"
She released a snort of laughter. "Why, you need help getting your key in the lock?"
There was a banked heat behind his gaze that took her by surprise. "Nope."
…Oh. When had her mouth transformed into an innuendo factory? And why was Walt so goddamn calm about it all?
Vic absently registered that she was now alone in the truck, and Walt was walking toward the front of the cabin with those familiar long strides. She knew he was expecting her to follow, so she cut the engine and hopped out of the driver's seat. Levering herself up onto the porch, she shook her head at the puzzling lack of steps. Easy enough for his 6'2" frame to deal with, but clambering up onto the platform made Vic feel like a four year old.
By the time she followed him through the door he had removed his jacket and placed his hat brim-up on the side table next to the answering machine. There was dim light from a small reading lamp, just enough to cast a warm glow over the room. Vic shut the door behind her and stood in front of it, waiting for her host to provide a clue on what she should do next.
Walt was standing a few feet away in the middle of the room, stock still but radiating a sudden tension. Unless that was Vic's own wild imagination playing tricks on her, addled by the low light and the silence and the fact that they were totally isolated here. Her eyes were drawn to his right hand as the fingers curled and flexed, a seemingly involuntary tell that made the suspense just that much more tangible.
A few seconds later, the dam finally broke. Strangely, the first thing Vic noticed was the sensation of the doorknob digging into the small of her back. The minor discomfort was swiftly overshadowed by Walt in front of her, grasping both sides of her face with his large hands and crushing his lips onto hers.
The initial violence of the contact quickly gentled into something deep and warm and alarmingly synchronized. Vic slumped against the doorframe as Walt's tongue plundered her mouth, her hands sweeping up to latch onto his wrists as his fingers slid from the skin of her cheeks further back and into her already disheveled hair. It was all too easy to drag her touch up the line of his arms until she was grasping at his solid shoulders and urging him even nearer.
One of his arms wrapped around her waist, yanking her to the side when the back of his hand encountered the pesky obstacle of the doorknob behind them. Flattening her against the wall he pushed the length of his body as close as possible, sliding one knee between her legs and pressing upward. The kiss broke and Vic inhaled sharply, hazily registering the sight of wild blue eyes peering down at her from a highly immediate vantage. Walt blinked slowly, transmitting unmistakeable arousal with a carefully placed roll of his hips.
"Ohhh…" Her breathy moan broke the silence, and Vic had the impression that the sound rattled them both. What the hell were they doing? She was surprised to feel no particular impulse toward guilt at their actions, instead being wrapped in a blanket of pleasure and overwhelming rightness. Was morality considered optional in this messed up dreamland? Vic chose to follow her instincts, stretching up to kiss him again. Her confidence seemed to spur Walt on, and teasing exploration quickly morphed into a consuming heat.
She latched both arms around his neck, molding her chest and abdomen against the solid bulk of him and holding on for dear life as his lips blazed a damp trail to the sensitive skin below her ear. Vic was so dizzy and out of it that she almost didn't notice when Walt lifted her up off the floor. He gripped the outside of her thigh and the soft curved area just below her ass, encouraging her legs to wrap around his waist. With a slight grunt of effort he turned them around, walking her backwards and through an adjacent doorway that presumably led to his bedroom.
The next thing she knew, they had collapsed on top of the feathery comforter and he was tugging at the buttons on the front of her uniform as their legs tangled together and she worked her hands inside his shirt to explore the bare skin of his lower back. He growled her name into the hollow above her collarbone as he wrestled with the fastenings of her jeans and slid one calloused hand up her ribcage beneath her undershirt.
It occurred to Vic that being laid out flat on the bed negated their height difference, and she arched and twisted until their hips were in perfect alignment. Walt was large and hard and pressing in right where she needed him, and she shuddered at the tantalizing friction offered by the clothing that still separated them as they rocked against each other. She'd managed to get the front of his shirt open, flattening her arms against his sides and digging hungry fingertips into his heated skin. Her ribbed tank top was rucked up all the way to the bottom of her bra, allowing their bare torsos to mold together.
Walt reared up onto his knees, sliding his arms beneath Vic and heaving her further up the bed so her head and shoulders rested on the pillows. His shirt and the front of his jeans were hanging open— when had she managed to accomplish that?— and some hair had fallen across his eyes. He knelt between her splayed legs, moving his hands around and dragging his palms from just below her breasts down to the loosened waistband of her pants. They were both breathing heavily as his fingers continued along that path, hooking into both the denim and the black cotton of her underwear and sliding them over her hips.
Vic wasn't sure she had ever been so aroused. At first she figured the shrill beeping noise she could suddenly hear was just her brain short-circuiting due to the sensual assault of Walt's steady hands or the frenzied, indecent interrogation that his mouth was currently performing upon hers.
But the volume of the repetitive signal increased and the scene began to turn white around the edges. Walt's electrifying touch became a frustrating, nebulous memory as consciousness overtook her.
Back in the real world, Vic Moretti resisted the urge to smash her angrily buzzing alarm clock. One arm thrown across her eyes to shield them from the sudden glare of the morning sun, she groaned in exasperation and stretched her legs to alleviate some of the accumulated tension.
Indistinct but oddly powerful recollections of her dream danced through the periphery of Vic's sleep-bleary vision, phantom impressions of Walt Longmire telegraphing their way across her overstimulated mind and her neglected skin.
"Oh my fucking God…"
This was going to be a long week.
Welp, there's the beginning. Let me know what you think of it! Vic and Sean will be off to Jackson Hole in the next chapter, so that ought to be fun.
I'm not as speedy or prolific as some of you folks, so this will probably update about once a week for the time being. I always accept pokes in the form of reviews, which are a highly effective motivational tool… ;D