"The only difference between good girls and bad girls is that good girls ask for permission, and bad girls ask forgiveness. But we all just want the same thing..."
Walt is not made of stone. On a normal day, he can deny his feelings for his younger deputy until the cows come home (sometimes literally). But there's something in the air on this particular night. The warm Arizona heat feels like a heavy blanket that he wants to take off like a shirt, but that's only part of it. It's also Henry being in deep shit, Cady nearly dying, Branch looking like a walking corpse and fixating on that ghost who tried to kill him thing--it's everything and nothing, if Walt is honest. He's fed up with following the rules; he's done trying to sweep his daydreams under the rug. Walt has always considered himself a good man, but a certain "bad girl" is testing him. It's a test he's ready to fail.
This all goes through his mind as he hears the knock on the door that he shares with Vic at the motel. It's true he's been staring at that door ever since she chivalrously helped him figure out the key card. They're alone, they're hundreds of miles from home, and fuck it. Fuck the fact that Vic works for him, that he's only had sex with one other person since Martha died (he supposes he owes an apology to Lizzie one of these days, but for now he can't be bothered), that he's her boss, and, oh, yeah... the small detail of Vic being married.
On the other side of the door, Vic has been considering all the same details. God, she couldn't stop talking about being a bad girl earlier--what is that about? Vic knows Walt has a lot on his plate right now, and yet she still can't stop herself from staring at him through the window when she told Ferg that "No, we're going to spend the night here." All kinds of interesting thoughts raced to her head when she said that. So many possibilities. She also noticed Walt eyeing her wedding ring back at the bar, considering his options. Yeah, she saw that. And it makes her heart race, her pulse pound, her stomach flip. Is it too much to hope that this is actually going to finally happen? She's been working with Walt for nearly two years, and it didn't take very long for her to start fantasizing about Sean falling off the face of the earth while Walt comes in on his horse and sweeps her away to his cabin. Yeah, she's got issues, so what? Who doesn't? Walt has this presence that Vic can’t ignore. She’s drawn to him, whether she wants to be or not.
Vic drinks another beer and tries to talk herself out of doing this. She's married, Walt is her boss, they are in Arizona for work, and wouldn't it be easier to just take a sleeping pill, wake up early and do what they came there to do--bring their fake Russian adopted child to another couple who promised to raise them right?
Her marriage is basically over, anyway, they just haven’t pulled the trigger yet. Sean is such a pain in her ass. Did she ever really love him or did she just want to show Gorski that she was moving on, and with someone who was basically the exact opposite of him? That's a question that plagues her frequently in the middle of the night. Something's gotta give there, and soon. And who's not to say he's doing his own share of cheating while he's gone all the time? Vic will consider anything that makes this decision easier, even though she knows what she wants to do to and with Walt would no doubt be constituted as cheating on her husband.
In the end, Vic knocks on the door. Because that's what a bad girl does.
He finally goes to answer the door, and for a minute, Walt thinks he blew this thing way out of proportion--Vic just wants to borrow a towel or tell him she talked to Ruby and they have another lead to chase. But no, there she is in her tank top and jeans, looking like all she wants to do is cause some chaos. And Walt is ready to let her.
"I, uh, I just came to offer you some beer, since, you know, I stole yours earlier," Vic says, and Walt chuckles. He takes the beer from her, grazing her hand accidentally on purpose. Their eyes meet, and Walt is positive that the air around them is full of a strange electricity. He should walk away. Run away. He needs to walk out of the door and insist on getting another room that is not attached to his deputy's. Walt is a sheriff, a reputable and professional man, and he didn't get that way by feeling up his younger employees. And yet, he can’t stop thinking about feeling up his younger employee.
Vic sits on his bed and drinks her beer. They don't talk. They should definitely talk, but they don't. Walt takes Vic’s lead and sits down next to her on the bed. It’s not awkward. They both know why they are there and what’s about to happen. Neither of them have any discipline or will power left, at least not tonight. So instead, they regard each other carefully. Who will make the first move? This will be on the record books for years to come.
Walt can't help but look into Vic's eyes. He's always kind of had a thing for them. Is that a weird thing to say? They're kind of hazel… some days they’re more green than brown, and other days, the reverse. For some reason, her eyes call to him. Like a siren? He is so full of shit, but Vic’s eyes are beautiful. Everything about her is beautiful.
Oh, hell, Walt thinks, and he leans in to kiss her.
Instead of thinking about all the reasons why this is a mistake, Vic kisses Walt back. They instantly fall into the bed, and it. Is. On. Walt is a pretty damn good kisser—somehow Vic already knew this; Walt just has this look about him that says he would be a good kisser. Plus, he’s surprisingly sort of aggressive about it all. Which, Vic thinks, two can play at this game.
They both practically kill each other while trying to get all their articles of clothing off. Walt basically rips off Vic’s tank top, and she’s not wearing anything underneath it. She moans as his mouth eagerly finds his way to her breasts—man, he does not waste any time. While Walt is occupied with that, Vic unbuttons his pants and shoves them off. She can see how hard he is through his thin underwear and wow, she can’t wait to go exploring.
There is more kissing. Walt bites Vic’s lip and she does the same back to him. None of this is gentle, which Vic is grateful for; this is not the time for gentle. Walt is on top of her, kissing her, palming her breasts with his warm hands, sending tiny shocks through her body. It’s been so long since she’s felt this kind of passion. For so long, she was just going through the motions with Sean. Walt is making her body come alive with every kiss, every touch, every moan.
Vic sees something from the corner of her eye, and she gives Walt an evil grin.
“What?” Walt says. Vic looks at the bedside table and Walt follows along—he’s confused at first about what she’s looking at but then he gets it. His grin is as evil as hers.
“I’ve been a bad girl, Walt,” she breathes. “I’ve been a very bad girl.”
“Yes, you have. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” Walt says, and he grabs the handcuffs that he took off his belt earlier in the evening, not knowing what role they’d play later in the evening.
Seconds later, Vic’s hands are in the cuffs, and he moves her arms above her head. He takes a second to glance at Vic’s almost-naked body, and thanks his lucky stars that he finally has the opportunity to do so. Vic enjoys his scrutiny, and she wants him inside her so bad she can hardly breathe.
Walt can sense that she’s getting desperate, and he enjoys it, Vic can tell. How did she possibly go this long without realizing her boss was so kinky? She knows this is going to be a problem when they get back to Durant. They’re going to have to pretend this never happened and it will be especially hard to forget the way he expertly flicked his tongue on her nipples and how adept his fingers were inside her underwear.
Vic exhales sharply when Walt softly bites her nipple while he places one finger inside of her. She knows how wet she is, and she hopes Walt is pleased by this, too. It appears that he is as he sticks another finger inside of her, and places his thumb on her clit. She wants to grab him or mount him or something, but her hands are in the cuffs, so she’s essentially helpless. All of these sensations happening at once sends Vic to a level of ecstasy she didn’t know was possible.
Walt greedily takes off her panties and now she is quite naked in front of him. He doesn’t waste any time—before she can even think about it, he is between her legs, hungrily lapping at her clit, sucking and licking and generally making Vic want to scream. In fact, she does scream when she feels herself on the verge of an explosive orgasm, and then everything goes black for a split second. Wow, Walt is really good at eating her out, Vic notes. Just another thing to add to the list of things she’ll always know about him.
“For god’s sake, Walt, hurry up and fuck me,” Vic finally says impatiently. She needs to feel him inside of her and as soon as possible. Walt grins sexily and takes his pants off. Vic enjoys the view; his cock is hard and long and she gasps when he slides into her. Again she wants to touch him, grab him, kiss him, but she is still bound in the handcuffs, and he’s not taking them off of her any time soon. Instead he leans down to kiss her, devour her as he takes her again and again. Vic grunts and moans and bites his lip repeatedly and it’s everything she’s been fantasizing about since she started having feelings for Walt. Everything they’re doing is so satisfying in every way possible, and Vic wants to stay inside of this moment for as long as they both can bear it.
Eventually, Walt does unlock the handcuffs and Vic immediately gets on top of him. She looks deep into his eyes as she rides him, and he looks so satiated, so pleased, so anxious for this to happen. While this makes her happier than she would ever possibly admit, it also saddens her deeply, as this may be the only time she’ll get to see that look in his eyes.
She tries not to think about that as move in rhythm together. Tomorrow’s another day. For now, they’ve got tonight.
Her hair. Walt is obsessed with Vic's hair. He wants to touch it and smell it and run his fingers through it. What's that about, even? It would make more sense if he ever had a thing for blondes, but Vic is the first blonde who's ever really caught his eye--other than Lizzie and she doesn't really count; she was the one who initiated everything. And Martha had the most beautiful auburn hair. But Vic’s hair drives him crazy. It always has.
So when he is inside of Vic, Walt can't help but grab her hair. He does it slowly at first, bit by bit, loose and then tight, and when Vic grabs his hand and says "Harder!" in a voice he doesn't recognize, he grabs her hair tighter, harder, until she gasps and leans closer into him, if that's even possible, and pulls him deeper, as deep as he can go, and they're both loud, and they're ignoring anything else that is not what is happening right. this. second.
Even when he is in the throes of absolute lust for this woman he’s having sex with, Walt is thinking about how wrong this is. Would they even be doing it if Vic wasn’t overwhelmingly dissatisfied with her marriage? What if Walt hadn’t been through all the shit he’d been dealing with lately? He would ultimately decide that even if they didn’t do it now, it would happen later down the road. Because it’s inevitable. There is something in the wind that brought the two of them together like this. And yeah, he’s going to feel guilty about it for awhile, but it’s happening. And it’s amazing, and it’s worth it. At least it is right now, which is all that matters for both of them.
The way Vic keeps looking at him while they breathe each other's name, as they cling to each other with hope and desperation, is also making him absolutely crazy with desire, and something more that he can't put his finger on. She is looking at him like he's the answer to all her prayers... or something. Walt can't help but think how much younger she is, and how she has so much ahead of her and how he can only disappoint her even if there wasn't a husband or a job or a whole county to think about. It's too much, and yet not enough.
They do it in every conceivable position, and Walt feels like he’s going to last forever, because he wants to--well, he needs to. Because once it’s over, it’s over. Maybe Vic feels the same way, but she doesn’t give him the opportunity to last as long as he imagined. When he’s back on top, touching her, looking into her eyes, caressing every part of her, she gets antsy and throws him back on the bed. She gives him a look he’ll always remember before taking him in her mouth. He thinks about baseball, about the cheeseburger at the Red Pony, about the deck at the cabin that needs to be fixed, but she is really, really good at this, and he feels himself losing control quickly.
"Come on, Vic, I--"
"Do it," she whispers. So he does. He comes in her mouth, and he enjoys watching her swallow it. Well, that's not a picture that will ever leave his head.
Walt falls back on the bed, not able to move. Vic pops the top of another beer and drinks half in one fell swoop. She offers him the other half, which he takes gratefully.
"That... happened," Vic says, and he nods. She lays down next to him, and he takes her hand in his. She squeezes it. The two of them exist together for a while. They don't talk. There is plenty to say, but there is also nothing to say.
Walt feels himself falling asleep, but Vic gets up and puts her clothes back on. He knows she needs to go back to her room. They can't fall asleep together--that would just be wrong.
"See you in the morning," Vic says. She leaves out the part where all she can think about is getting a divorce from her useless husband and falling into bed with Walt at the first possible opportunity.
"Yeah. We have a Russian daughter to give away," Walt says. He leaves out the part where he's probably falling in love with her and he desperately wants to do anything but that.
Vic laughs, and goes back into her room. Walt closes his eyes, and wishes everything was different.