"Vic? What are you still doing here? I thought Ferg was on duty tonight."
It was 9pm and Walt was tired and the sight of her feet in what looked like black motorcycle boots crossed at the ankle and casually supported by the open desk drawer brought him up short. He hoped she didn't notice his appraisal as he took in the not-her-usual jeans and form fitting definitely non-regulation black t-shirt.
"He is," she drawled, head tilted sideways and supported by an arm bent at the elbow and propped on the desk. "He went to check out an alarm call down at the hardware store. Their Detex has been on the fritz for weeks so it's probably nothing."
Her spun gold hair was loose, with that slight curl he'd noticed it sometimes had if she let it down after keeping it pulled back all day. Walt was a natural at noticing things, but when it came to Vic it had become more than just a habit. If he were honest with himself, it had crossed over that fine line into the treacherous territory of addiction.
Hat held loosely in his hand, he raised an eyebrow. "So…?"
Matching his stare, she toughed it out for several long moments before finally deflating with a sigh. "I'm gonna catch some sleep here, okay? I'm working in the morning anyway."
"Why?" He was honestly curious, but also worried. The last time he remembered her sleeping at the station, things hadn't been good.
She was fiddling with her hockey puck now, eyes fixed on the beloved hunk of rubber as she flipped it over in her hands. "Sean's at the house and I don't want to be there."
Sean. It wasn't a name Vic said often these days. After Walt had served her the divorce papers from her husband things had gone a bit crazy for a while for all of them, and by the time the dust had settled Sean had moved from his temporary lodgings in one of Durant's rent-by-the-week motels to a semi-permanent post in Billings. His transfer to Australia was imminent, predicated on a small amount of additional training from Newett and the finalization of what Walt absently understood to be an acrimonious and hard-fought divorce settlement.
Trying not to frown, Walt looked down at his boots and then back at his off-duty deputy. "What's he doing in town?"
"Getting the rest of his stuff and dropping off the papers— fucking finally. Have I mentioned lately that Sean's divorce attorney is an asshole?"
The corner of Walt's mouth turned upward just slightly. "Once or twice."
Hockey puck abandoned on the desk, Vic raised her arms above her head and stretched, almost certainly unaware of the way the motion caused the thin black cotton to hug and enhance her curves. Walt rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to imagine what those perky, un-ignorable breasts would feel like under his hands.
"Well, whatever. Compared to most jail cells this place is like the Taj Mahal. It's just one night."
Walt's jumbled thoughts crashed against each other and apparently managed to deactivate the filter that usually prevented him from blurting out ill-considered combinations of words. "Why don't you just come stay at my place instead?"
Her eye widened, dark but sparkling in the low light. "What? Oh, no, Walt. I wouldn't want to put you out."
A knot twisted in his stomach as he wondered whether that was the truth, whether she just didn't want to be under the same roof as him, or if maybe Vic was remembering the last time she had spent the night at his cabin and simply couldn't bear to contemplate that level of awkwardness. The air was heavy between them, and something told Walt that the latter option was true for her just as it was for him. He tried to lighten the mood, to take some of the uneasy weight out of the proposition.
"You sure? The new blankets Ruby ordered are extra itchy, and you'll never catch a wink once the Ferg gets back— his chair squeaks."
That earned him a smile, at least. Allowing her booted feet to drop back onto the wooden floor, she paused as though she might actually be considering it. "I'll be okay. Maybe a little grumpy from the damn springs poking into my spine all night, but I'll survive."
Walt peered over at Vic, and his expression might have been what one would call wistful. She pressed her lips together, watching him in return, and he wondered for the hundredth time whether she ever thought about him the way he almost constantly thought about her. This seemed like a perfect illustration of his total inability to do anything about it, a fact that filled him with unplumbed reserves of frustrated longing. And still, the status quo remained.
Nodding in resignation, Walt palmed his hat onto his head and moved slowly toward the exit. Before he'd made it even three full steps Ferg bundled into the station, and Walt was surprised to see that he was confidently wrangling what appeared to be a skinny twenty-something detainee.
Ferg paused momentarily, noticing that he had an audience. "So it turns out someone actually was robbing the hardware store this time! Probably wouldn't have even caught him if they'd bothered to have their alarms serviced— must have been on my way over there before he even broke in. Talk about bad luck!" He chuckled and steered the suspect around the dividing wall and into the jail cell, fishing the key out of his desk and freeing the young man of his handcuffs before locking him in.
Mildly amused by this turn of events, Walt looked at Vic out of the corner of his eye. "Looks like your hotel reservation just got cancelled. Rethinking my offer?"
Eyes darting around the room, calculating, Vic released a long breath as though she had been holding it in for several minutes. Reaching under her desk, she retrieved a small gym bag and rose to her feet. "I would say I hope you have cable, but last time I checked you didn't even have a TV. Guess you'll have to lend me a book or something."
A thought flashed briefly across the movie screen of his brain, an image of Vic snuggled up against him on the oversized sofa while he read out loud from some book or another, with neither of them paying attention to the words so much as the simple act of togetherness. Shaking his head back and forth to refocus, he gestured for her to walk ahead of him. Bidding the Ferg a good night and telling him to call if he needed anything they left the station together, and Walt wondered just exactly what kind of trouble he was getting himself into.
How the hell did you let him talk you into this? You didn't even bring your own vehicle, so what if this is just as bad as last time or worse, and there's no way for you to gracefully take your leave?
As if 'graceful' is even a word that exists in the Vic Moretti vocabulary primer…
It would have been rude not to accept, she told herself. Walt was just being a gentleman, making sure she had a comfortable place to sleep. There was no way he could read her mind and know that the thought of being alone with him like this got her heart racing and her toes tingling and her imagination traveling to forbidden lands where clothing was prohibited and physical contact was enforced by depraved and salacious law.
She kept her eyes fixed on the road ahead of them, focusing on the white line hugging the right shoulder in hopes that it would stop her from sneaking glances at his strong profile as he drove. The silence was increasing her nervousness, but it was a known fact that Walt didn't respond well to prattling small talk. She'd given up on the county's available selection of shitty radio stations a long time ago.
The quiet air swirled around her, stirring Vic's thoughts and making her wonder if Walt ever even thought about that other night at his cabin, where Lizzie had accused them of being involved and Vic had gotten an eyeful of Walt's dripping wet nearly naked body. The night had been a sleepless one after that, between the guilt of secretly wishing there was a basis for Lizzie's accusations and the unquenchable mental thirst caused by the memory of that towel slung low around his waist.
"Vic? We're here…"
Great. She had been so distracted, thinking about the unexplored delights hiding beneath the plain white bath towel of her mind's eye, she hadn't even noticed they'd arrived at the cabin and Walt already had one long denim-clad leg out the door and on the ground.
This was going to be a long night.
Once inside Walt had offered her food, which she'd declined, and a beer, which she had happily accepted. They sat at opposite ends of the sofa, boots discarded by the door, and the sight of Walt's sock-clad feet left Vic's turbulent emotions wedged somewhere in the no-man's land between softhearted affection and raging lust.
With a wry smile he half-jokingly offered her a browse of his book shelf which, to her mounting sense of panic, was located in his bedroom. Vic quickly perused the titles, running her fingers over the spines of a few obviously well-loved volumes. Walt appeared to have wide-ranging taste in reading material, which she supposed wasn't surprising. She settled on what looked like a reasonably readable crime thriller, figuring the chances of her actually being able to focus on the contents were pretty slim in any case.
They read in companionable silence for a little less than an hour, right up until Vic released a small yawn. Walt seemed to take that as a signal that it was time to turn in, and they bickered good-naturedly for a few minutes over the sleeping arrangements.
"Nope. You're taking the bed this time and that's that."
"Walt, don't be ridiculous. I'm perfectly comfortable right here—"
"I sleep out here often enough as it is, and this way I won't wake you if I get up early to take care of the horse."
He picked up her overnight bag and carried it into the bedroom, plopping it on the bed and placing his hands on his hips as she finally followed him. "There."
Twisting her fingers, Vic refused to think about the myriad acts she had imagined performing in this very room. Deflecting her own train of thought, she peered over at him and used one hand to gesture toward the bathroom, now fully equipped with a door. That was new…
"Don't you need to, umm…?" It seemed he had a proclivity for showering at night and, whimsically ulterior motives aside, she really didn't want to disrupt his routine.
"Hmm? Oh, nope. I can wash up in the morning. If you want to, though, there are clean towels in the linen closet next to the sink."
She did feel a bit gritty and ripe after the extra-long day at work. "Thanks, I think I will."
"Okay. Well…" Slapping his thigh with one hand, Walt waved awkwardly with the other. It made her want to tackle him down and pin both his arms above his head. "Goodnight, Vic."
That soft look was back in his eyes, the one he probably didn't realize he gave her sometimes. He'd done it all those months ago when she'd tossed him her truck keys at the Red Pony, causing butterflies to flutter in the bottom of her stomach even back then when their lives were so completely fucked up. She tried not to imagine what he might see in her answering gaze, biting her lip involuntarily as he backed out of the room.
Her voice nearly failed her, one word barely escaping in a low almost-whisper. "Goodnight."
He refused to think about it, the idea of Vic's unadorned body being caressed by rivulets of hot water in his shower. Would she use his soap, lathering all her curves and secret places before rinsing off and drying herself with his towels? Walt was overtaken with wild thoughts of sweat and pheromones and the natural reactivity and sensitivity of skin. He tried to relax and breathe slowly, half-reclined on the sofa and pointedly ignoring the suddenly thriving evidence of arousal inside his jeans.
Telling himself it was nothing, that he had invited Vic to stay the night because it was the polite thing to do and she had accepted because it was the logical choice in the circumstances, Walt briefly shut his eyes and adjusted his limbs into a more comfortable position. He'd already untucked and partially unsnapped his shirt, as he generally did on the rare occasions when he enjoyed downtime at home.
Moving his left leg, Walt's foot encountered a hard object wedged between the cushions at the other end of the sofa. It was the book that Vic had been reading, dust jacket carefully marking her place. Would she want to read some more before she went to sleep? He often drifted off that way himself, since it helped to calm his perpetually dancing thoughts. She was probably still in the shower— weren't women notorious for taking forever in there? So he could sneak in and leave it on the bedside table for her.
He figured better safe than sorry, knocking softly on the bedroom door and quietly calling her name. Upon receiving no response, he gently pushed the door open and stepped into the bedroom. The bathroom door was shut, and Walt carefully ignored the simple but provocatively skimpy sleepwear that was laid out on top of the quilt.
Book still in hand, Walt realized he'd made a grave miscalculation when the door to the en suite clicked open and his towel-clad deputy took several unsuspecting steps into the room.
Several things happened then. Vic gasped, jumping slightly. Walt froze, mouth dropping open in stupefied awe at the sight of all that dripping wet golden skin. The white rectangle of cloth barely covered her, hitting at the top of her thighs and nearly giving Walt an aneurysm at the sight of those glistening toned legs and elegant bare feet.
Vic's mouth worked, perhaps trying to form words. At first no sound came out, and her eyes raked over him in an unguarded and hungry way that he never, ever would have expected. Finally, she spoke. One husky, uncertain word.
Overcome with a sudden weakness through all his limbs, Walt barely registered the sensation of the hardback novel slipping from his numb and uncooperative fingers and falling to the floor with a solid thud. The sound acted like a snap to break Walt out of deep hypnosis, filling him with trepidation as he tried to train his eyes anywhere other than all over her enticing and freshly showered form.
"I… Sorry. Uhm— thought you might want your book, but you didn't answer so I just— I didn't mean to—" One of Walt's hands rose up to rub over his jaw in an involuntary nervous gesture. He averted his eyes to the floor, seemingly unable to do the sensible thing and get his legs to carry him out of the room before Vic's temper caught up with the momentary shock and he ended up with her capable fist forming a pugilistic alliance with his nose.
Her toes appeared in his downcast sightline, less than a foot from the tips of his own. Walt flinched at the feeling of a hand lightly touching his arm near the elbow. She was close, too close, and his body was reacting as the scent combination of his own straightforward clean soap and whatever fruit and flower girly shampoo she'd had in her overnight kit reached his nostrils.
"Walt. Look at me?"
The apprehension in Vic's voice struck him right where it hurt, and his eyes snapped up to meet hers. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, expression full of cautious longing as her fingers grasped his arm atop the weathered denim fabric. Her hair was loose, damp strands spilling over her shoulder on one side. Without even thinking about it Walt reached out, using his right hand to brush the wet tresses back and away, revealing the soft junction of her neck and shoulder. His fingertips brushed over the skin absently, and he felt a shiver run through her.
Swallowing heavily and never breaking the electrified wire of eye contact, he finally got his voice to work. His brain was another story, as an awful lot of blood seemed to have pumped its way south. The best he could manage was, "Are you cold?"
Vic shook her head no, moving her hand further up his arm and stepping into his touch. The edge of his thumb traced over her collarbone and her hand clenched into the fabric covering his bicep. She inhaled sharply, lips slightly parted. It was then that Walt realized she was grasping his arm above the elbow in part to support her own weight, a truth further confirmed by the exhilarating sensation of her other hand landing on top of his shirt pocket when she swayed into him.
As she steadied, the fingers splayed on his chest shifted a few inches toward his sternum and slid into the open neck of his shirt. Her warm touch was a mirror image of his own, their bodies forming a closed circuit through that tentative contact. Walt raised his other hand to Vic's face, touching her cheek, brushing the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip.
Eyelashes fluttering, she tilted her head. "I'm not imagining this, am I?"
Drawing a deep breath, he leaned in until his lips were brushing against the sweet, sensitive skin just behind her earlobe. "God, I hope not."
Abruptly she stepped back from him. At first he thought this was the end, that he had totally blown it, tipped his hand and lost his shirt. He thought this must be the ultimate nail in the coffin when it came to his hopes and dreams where Vic was concerned, that she was about to let him down hard and walk out of his life forever.
Instead she reached up with trembling hands, pulled the soft white terrycloth away from her body, and dropped the towel on the floor.
This was the gamble, the moment of truth. Walt's fingers on her flushed skin had swept away the final ounce of patience Vic had kept in reserve for so long, and instinct had gained the edge over doubt in her endless internal war.
It had almost been too much already, showering with such obvious impressions of Walt surrounding her. She felt stripped and exposed well beyond the more obvious removal of her clothing, and had been unable to resist the urge to touch his things and use the products that he had chosen to be part of his every day. It had been oddly thrilling, taking the bar of soap that had recently been in his grasp and gliding it over her skin. Easy to pretend there was something of his hands, his skin and other parts of him infused into that innocent white block.
When Vic had walked out into the dimly lit bedroom and seen him there, disheveled and caught off guard, almost boyish in flustered surprise, she'd known. The knowledge was so enormous she could barely comprehend the meaning, other than the fact that it had been there all along and this was the moment that would make or break them.
He hadn't turned tail and run, and at first she thought he was just too mortified to manage it. Then she had breathed his name, and his eyes had met hers like the iridescent blue in the hottest part of a steady flame. That banked heat had certainly sucked the rest of the oxygen out of her lungs, and the way they'd practically melted onto each other after the first hint of physical connection had given her the needed courage.
Now she was totally naked, but somehow it seemed right. She could feel Walt's eyes flickering over every part of her body that he hadn't previously seen. It was almost like a threat assessment, so she followed her training and made no sudden movements to trigger a reaction. What more could she do? The ball was well and truly in Walt's court now.
For a moment he actually looked angry, face so hard and intense that she almost wanted to shrink back against the wall to distance herself from the apparent wrath. She never got the chance; in the next moment he was hauling her into his arms, releasing a low growl against the side of her neck as her feet left the floor and his lips searched desperately for hers.
Vic had never been swept off her feet before, literally or figuratively, but this was both and so much more. She met his fire with her own, finally, after wanting exactly this for so long. His strong hands held her against him, one splayed over her back and the other sliding down to the soft area beneath her left ass cheek to support her weight. Both of her own hands had shot up to frame his face, feeling the delicious texture of his stubble under her fingers as they engaged in a fierce and ravenous first kiss.
Breathing in through her nose, Vic squirmed in Walt's arms. A small moan erupted from her throat as her sensitized nipples pressed against the fabric of his shirt front and her lower half sought and met the hard evidence of his desire for her. Walt shuddered and squeezed her tighter in response, grinding his hips against hers. Dragging her touch down the side of his neck and beneath the open collar of his shirt, Vic pushed at the sturdy cotton material and gripped the warm skin of his shoulder.
Soon Walt was trailing hot open-mouthed kisses down her throat, and Vic was so dizzy and out of it that she almost didn't register the swift turning motion as he spun her around and lowered her onto the bed. She felt boneless and light with the cool quilt beneath her, weak with anticipation as Walt crawled on top of her. Reaching for him, she pulled the front of his shirt completely open, helping him shrug out of the sleeves as he slinked his way up her body until they were face to face.
He loomed above her, wearing a tender expression and running one hand along the skin of her neck before propping it beside her on the bed. Dragging her fingers over the muscles of his bare chest and arms, she peered up at him, imploring.
"I hope you aren't thinking about stopping."
Bending, he kissed the corner of her mouth with a gently lingering pressure. "Nope. I just want to look at you for a minute."
She smiled, feeling sexy and powerful. "Take your time, I'm not going anywhere."
Walt kneeled up, his jean-clad legs sandwiched with her smooth naked ones. "You're so beautiful." Her breath hitched as he traced the fingertips of both hands up her flat stomach. "I want to touch you."
Covering his hands with her own, she guided them up to her breasts, arching as his palms molded over her curves. Exhaling, she licked her lips. "What else do you want?"
His eyes darkened to a stormy midnight, voice low and rough as his thumbs circled sensuously. "Everything."
Slowly, Vic raised her arms up so that they lay prone above her head in a gesture of total surrender. "So take it. It's all yours…"
Apparently Walt got the message, sliding his hands up the soft skin of her inner forearms and twining his fingers with hers, pinning them firmly to the mattress before plundering her mouth with a kiss that was deep and possessive. When they broke apart for air Vic scraped her teeth over his bottom lip, soothing the bitten area with her tongue as he tilted in to renew the contact.
"I'm yours," she whispered against his mouth.
The declaration seemed to set Walt off and imbue him with greater confidence, hands roaming all over her. His lips explored her face and neck, mapping her out for future reference. He sucked on the delicate skin beneath her earlobe and she moaned, her own arms wrapping around to grasp and stroke his broad back. After continuing his attentions to that spot on her neck for long enough that Vic hoped it would leave a mark, Walt continued his descent.
She had always assumed that Walt would be a thoughtful and giving lover, but she would freely admit that she hadn't allowed her imagination to travel quite this far. As his lips blazed a trail down her body, taking time for a detour to nibble and tease at her already aching breasts, Vic's mind reeled with all the possibilities she had never contemplated.
Possibilities such as Walt's tongue flattening against the skin of her stomach, circling around her belly button, and sliding even lower until—
"Ohhh, holy shit!"
The texture and heat of his mouth exploring her most sensitive parts was a mind-blowing, pleasure-drunk surprise. Groaning against the inside of her quivering thigh, Walt pushed her a little further up the bed so that he could stretch out and concentrate on his target. All she could do was gasp for much-needed oxygen, grip the side of his neck, and slide her fingers through his hair while she hung on for the ride.
Vic's hips bucked at one particularly effective flick from the tip of Walt's tongue, and she felt one of his large hands bracing over her hipbone to still her uncontrolled movements. She could hear the smile in his voice as he paused.
A breathy laugh escaped her. "Are you fucking serious?"
Their eyes met briefly, and she could see just how serious he was as he used his free hand to drape one of her thighs over his shoulder before returning to the task at hand.
He was good at it. Better than good, and she writhed with abandon as much as Walt would allow beneath his mouth and hands as he worked her. The pressure built and swelled as his tongue fluttered and his teeth joined the action to scrape gently over her clitoris. Vic didn't even know what sounds she was making, all control discarded as Walt made a pleased humming noise and gripped the outside of her thighs, pressing his stubbled face right in where she needed it as a violent, pulsing orgasm tore through her.
The climax was blackout amazing and he didn't let up, relentlessly devouring her through the aftershocks until she finally collapsed from unqualified sensual exhaustion.
Vic managed to find her voice through the fog. "Come back up here."
Walt slid up the bed and lay on his side next to her, shirtless, painfully handsome, and looking just the slightest bit smug. He proffered an arm in invitation, kissing her temple as she snuggled against him. Vic rested contentedly for a moment, burying her face in Walt's neck and stroking her fingers up and down his opposite side. If he thought they were going to cuddle peacefully now, he had another thing coming— hopefully in a very literal sense once she got her hands on the unruly hardness she could spy within his overtaxed jeans…
The softness of Vic's body cradled so willingly against him was making Walt hornier than he'd been in decades, but at least he was still enough of a gentleman to rein those impulses in until she had recovered from her impressively vocal orgasm. Her responses bolstered his supplies of masculine pride, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so unashamedly decadent.
When Vic had dropped her towel it had been like a matador waving an incendiary red cloth in front of an angry bull, and Walt had given in and charged. The sequence of events that followed got the blood pounding into places he'd almost forgotten about, and he hadn't been able to resist the pull of all her smooth inviting skin on display for him. She'd said it was all his, that she was his, and Walt hadn't even had a chance to properly process that concept yet.
Feathering one set of fingers up her bare spine, Walt swept his tongue between his bottom row of teeth and the inside of his lip to savor the remnants of her warm honey taste. The act of pleasuring her had been enjoyable for him as well, as the throbbing erection he was sporting was happy to remind him. Vic shifted as his fingers reached the back of her neck and slid into her still-damp hair, raising her head and bracing her forearm over his chest as she leaned in to kiss him.
Feisty by nature, he should have known Vic wouldn't need much time to recharge. If she felt half of the urgency that he did himself, they would be tangled together again in no time. Cradling her face with both his hands he accepted and deepened the kiss, groaning as her hand traveled down the center of his abdomen until her clever fingers encountered his belt buckle.
With an athletic twisting motion Vic flipped up to straddle Walt's thighs and he was treated to the erotic and dreamlike picture of her, untamed and eager above him as she unfastened his jeans with impressive alacrity. He watched her breasts bounce slightly and her wild hair fall into her eyes as she shimmied backwards to tug the denim down his legs, his lips already longing to renew contact with her kiss-swollen ones.
When Walt's last layers had been dealt with, Vic's eyes focused hungrily on the rock hard erection that had been hiding within. Seemingly fascinated, she ran one soft hand from base to tip and back down again, grasping his length experimentally as she knelt between his legs. Walt released a choked gasp, reaching down to clamp his hand around Vic's wrist and pull her back up his body. She pitched forward, landing splayed over his chest with their bare torsos pressing together.
"This won't last very long if you keep doing that."
"I want to make you feel good. As good as you made me feel."
Walt stretched beneath her, pressing his full and throbbing arousal into the tantalizing indent where Vic's hip met her thigh. "No need to hurry. We've got all night."
She wriggled, rubbing against him in kind as she braced her hands atop his pectoral muscles and moved her face toward his. "Hmm. I like the sound of that…"
Then it was on again, the touching, the twining of limbs, the delicious battle of lips and tongues that fused together and then wandered off to investigate unexplored terrain. They engaged in a sensual tussle for dominance which Walt eventually won, pinning Vic to the mattress with his weight even as one of her legs twisted around his hip to bring him closer.
Walt was lightheaded with desire as he took in Vic's shining eyes and golden hair fanned out beneath her, wondering how they'd managed to finally arrive here together. In a sudden moment of clarity he decided to stop wondering and start living, and he knew just where he wanted to begin. Brushing one thumb over Vic's cheek, he kissed her softly and leaned in to speak against the shell of her ear.
"Vic. I'm yours, too."
Returning the gesture, her fingers brushed over his temple near the hairline. "Yeah?"
He nodded, telling her all he could without words.
Vic smiled, equal measures of devotion and mischief dancing behind her gaze. "Okay. Prove it."
Blinking slowly, Walt barely missed a beat. He aligned the head of his cock with the slick and welcoming entrance to the pleasures that awaited, taking an agonizing moment to tease up and down the line of Vic's heated center.
His lips feathered against hers. "How do you want me?"
She whimpered, tightening the grip of her thighs around his waist and trying to draw him in. "For now? Just like this."
Giving in at last, Walt slid himself home. With one steady push forward he was fully embedded, overwhelmed by the sensation of her scorching hot silky inner walls squeezing around him. Vic made an unintelligible sound of ecstasy, rolling her hips and digging the fingernails of one hand into the small of his back. Walt flexed into her, watching Vic's face as her parted lips formed a wordless "O" and her neck arched with abandon.
Everything fit together so perfectly, it was easy to find a rhythm that worked for both of them. After a few minutes of deep, slow thrusts Vic begged him to go harder, so he propped his forearms on either side of her head on the bed and leveraged his weight to grind and plunge with rapid and exalted focus. They exchanged a couple brief kisses, but their movements were too intense to maintain the contact.
Walt knew this wasn't going to last long, not with the skyrocketing state of arousal he was experiencing. It was almost a relief when Vic started issuing breathless high-pitched cries, bucking against him and digging a heel into the flesh of his buttock to hold him in hard as she pulsed and clenched around him. Vic moaning his name before sinking her teeth into the muscle where Walt's neck met his shoulder was the last straw, and he released a hoarse shout of his own and bore down to plant himself deep inside as he joined her in the savage throes of climax.
They collapsed together, tangled, sweaty, messy, and completely satisfied. Walt's face was buried in the side of Vic's neck, and he shivered with gratification at the feeling of her fingers playing with the hair behind his ear. One of his arms had ended up buried beneath her as he clutched her against him at the height of their shared release, and his lower body was still resting in the cradle of her thighs.
Shifting slightly, accompanied by a displeased noise from his somewhat insensible partner, Walt gently pulled their fused bodies apart just enough to rearrange them into a more comfortable reclined position. He reached down to the foot of the bed and pulled the extra blanket up over both of them, not caring when this action dislodged Vic's forgotten pajamas and caused them to flutter to the floor.
Pulling Vic into him as he took up a position on his back, Walt smiled at her slack and shattered facial expression. She seemed to sense the attention, eyes fluttering open to meet his own. Snuggling closer, she placed one arm across his stomach and briefly kissed the skin of his shoulder.
"Hey," she offered in a pleased tone of voice.
"Hey." He allowed himself the new and exciting luxury of running his fingertips along the line of her ribcage.
Vic exhaled slowly and slumped against him, like a cat stretching out for a nap. "How are you feeling?"
He had to think about that one for a few quiet moments. "Like a new man."
She chose to interpret that potentially loaded statement with a dose of levity. "Does this new man know how to cook? Because I will need some epic breakfast after the long night of earth-shattering hot sex we're gonna have."
Walt gave a low, almost intoxicated sounding laugh. "He cooks the best pancakes in town, just like the old version. Might need more than a short stack, though, if you've got big plans."
Kissing his jaw, his chin, and finally his lips, Vic leveled him with a provocative gaze. "Oh I've got plans, alright. And the stack I'm interested in definitely isn't short."
Her hand wandered, and a new spark flared between them. Falling into yet another probing kiss Walt was sure of two things— he could definitely take the heat, and it was going to be a long while before he ever made it to the kitchen.