This is the first in a series of stories - some lighter, some more serious, that were inspired by the predilection of several GS writers I know for removing a particular article of MD's clothing as soon and as often as possible. In their honor, and for their entertainment, I present…
Shirtless
Prologue
"Good morning, Miss Kitty! What can I do for you today?" Mr. Jonas was always happy to see one of his best customers.
"Good morning, Mr. Jonas. I need some coffee – a pound should do – and I was wondering if those shirts I ordered had come in yet."
"Oh yes, the Marshal's shirts. As a matter of fact I just unpacked them this morning – the usual order, a dozen extra large extra tall men's work shirts, eight red, four blue." Mr. Jonas paused, then added almost apologetically, "You know, there are work shirts available in his size in other styles and colors, if the Marshal ever wants to try something different.…"
Kitty grimaced. "Believe me, if I thought he'd wear them, I'd have you order different ones, but he won't – says two colors are enough to choose from." Kitty sighed in resignation. "That man can be stubborn as the day is long, sometimes."
Mr. Jonas smiled affectionately at the disgruntled woman. "Won't argue with you there, Miss Kitty. In any event, I'll go get them, and your coffee."
Kitty smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Jonas. The way that man goes through shirts, if they'd been delayed much longer, he'd have to stop marshalling or risk having to go shirtless!"
Chuckling at this thought, the storekeeper headed for his storeroom to retrieve the package. Kitty wandered over to the fabric display to see what else might have arrived. After just a few minutes, Mr. Jonas returned.
"Here you go, Miss Kitty." Mr. Jonas proffered a squarish package wrapped in brown paper and string. "And here's your pound of coffee. I'll just put it on your account, shall I?"
"That would be fine, thanks." Kitty offered a final friendly smile as she scooped up the packages and headed back out into the pretty spring morning.
Turning toward the jailhouse, Kitty strolled along the boardwalk. She'd leave half the shirts at the jailhouse, then take the other half back to the Long Branch, as Matt was equally likely to need them in the one location as the other. Last time she checked, he'd been down to one spare at the office and two at the saloon. She'd only been half kidding about his ending up shirtless if he wasn't careful!
That man was harder on shirts than anybody she'd ever met, Kitty mused. If he wasn't brawling with bad guys, or worse, getting shot, he was catching them on sharp branches or protruding metal objects or any number of other hazards he seemed to have an almost magnetic attraction for. She smiled to herself as she recalled some of the many times over the years that Matt Dillon had in fact ended up shirtless…
Part 1 – White Knight in a Red Shirt
A high-pitched scream pierced the night air, cutting through the usual friendly din that marked a successful evening at the Long Branch. Conversation halted and all heads turned toward the bar, where Marshal Matt Dillon was occupying his usual spot. Leaning his large frame against the polished wood, the legendary lawman was sharing a quiet conversation with the beautiful red-haired proprietress of the establishment.
The fact that she also happened to be his woman was undoubtedly the worst-kept secret in all of Dodge City, and for that matter, the State of Kansas, but nevertheless, the couple were, as always, observing the proprieties. Though they might be standing a little closer than was absolutely necessary, their quiet conversation creating a small circle of intimacy that kept intrusions to a minimum, they displayed no overt signs of affection. A sharp-eyed observer might see his fingers catch hers in a brief caress as she refilled his glass, spot her hand gently stroking his back as she moved by him to tend to some bit of business, or note the way his eyes melted into hers when she favored him with a smile. But most of the time, you could never tell from their public actions that they were as committed a couple as any who had ever stood before a preacher.
Their friends and neighbors had long ago figured out how things stood between their Marshal and the Lady of the Long Branch, and after ten years all but the most prudish had come to accept them as a couple. Some could not get past the fact that Kitty Russell was the Marshal's 'woman' not his 'wife', but most understood that the lack of formal vows was due to his commitment to protect the people of Dodge. The couple were careful and discreet, and if on occasion in the middle of the night their Marshal came running to the scene of a crime from the wrong side of Front Street, nobody felt the need to notice.
So it was that evening in the Long Branch, Marshal Dillon was allowed to enjoy his lady's company without interruption – that is, until the scream stopped everything.
As soon as he heard it, Matt Dillon turned, discreetly squeezing Kitty's hand beneath his as he pushed away from the bar. As he strode out into the night, he could hear several men following, but he didn't wait for them. Another scream, more muffled this time, came from just down the street. Matt loped along the boardwalk to the alley beyond the General Store, where he could now identify the sounds of a struggle. Whoever the poor woman was, she was putting up a fight.
As he rounded the corner into the alley, Matt saw them. The man was big and burly, in the ragged clothes typical of hill folk. The woman was a petite blonde in a saloon girl's outfit; he was pretty sure her name was Alice, and she worked over at the Lady Gay. The big hill man was so busy trying to pin her against the crates stacked in the alleyway that he didn't even notice they were no longer alone.
"Stop right there, mister! Let her go!" Matt charged forward toward the struggling couple as he spoke. The hill man turned to assess this new challenge, giving Alice an opening to escape. Dropping to the ground, she rolled away from her attacker and scurried behind a nearby barrel.
Matt had only a moment to realize what was coming before the big hill man, clearly enraged that this intruder had cost him his sport, launched himself at the oncoming lawman, knocking both of them off their feet.
Grappling in the dirt of the narrow alley, Matt wished he'd thought to step aside rather than take the impact full on. Now he had 300 pounds of angry drunken hillbilly by the neck, and no way to use his gun to get the man under control. Instead, he'd have to find a way to knock the man out before the idiot sat on him and crushed his chest in, or worse.
Using his good leg as a lever, Matt managed to roll his assailant onto his back. Not letting go of the man's neck, he pushed up, hoping to put his back into the task of cutting off the big man's air so he'd black out. From this slightly more advantageous position Matt redoubled his efforts, but the man had a neck like an ox and the pressure seemed to have little effect.
Giving the plan up as hopeless, Matt let go of the hill man's neck and pushed off the burly chest. Unfortunately, one big hand was clutching the front of Matt's shirt, and his sudden retreat sent half a dozen buttons flying. Yanking loose and scrambling to his feet, Matt backed out of reach. The hill man followed with an angry roar, huge hairy arms reaching out as he lunged forward to capture and crush his opponent. This time Matt ducked out of the way, but just as he thought he'd escaped, a giant paw clutched at his neck, finding a handhold on the top of his buckskin vest and jerking him backward like a fish on a hook.
Stumbling from the sudden reversal of direction, Matt might have fallen were it not for the big man's firm grip on the buckskin, which inconveniently demonstrated its superior strength by not coming apart the way his shirt had. Regaining his footing, he did the only thing he could think of – he grabbed the sides of his vest and flung them open, shrugging his shoulders out of the armholes and throwing himself forward.
The hill man howled in frustration as he saw that his fish had slipped the hook. Matt managed to get a few steps away and turn back to face his opponent before the angry hillbilly flung the empty vest aside and charged.
This time Matt tried crouching low and tackling him. This was partially successful, as the man's legs went out from under him, but partially not, because he took Matt down with him in a tangle. Plus, it seemed to make him even madder, if that were possible. Snarling with rage, the hill man reached for his neck to choke him, and Matt found himself once again grappling for advantage as they both struggled to rise.
Just as they regained their feet, his opponent suddenly twisted and pushed and Matt found himself flying backwards, crashing into the stacked crates a few feet away. A sharp burning pain between his shoulder blades told him he'd hit an edge or corner of something. As he slid to the ground, he heard the sound of ripping cloth – clearly some part of one of the crates had found purchase in the back of his shirt. Jerking forward, he tore himself free, feeling the air on his skin as a large piece of shirt flapped open.
Feeling a bit riled himself at this point, Matt quickly gathering his long legs under him and launched himself back into the fight. Luckily the huge hillbilly was not a particularly competent fighter – with his size, he probably didn't need much skill most of the time – but he had arms like tree trunks, and Matt found it impossible to do more than keep from getting trapped in the angry man's meaty grasp. Finally Matt managed to set his feet and give the man a hard shove that caught him off-balance, sending him thudding into the wall of the General Store.
Wasting no time, Matt stepped in and swung hard. He delivered a hammer blow to the dazed man's jaw, snapping his head back against the boards with a satisfying thwack. The man's eyes went wide and rolled back in his head as the huge body slid slowly down into a crumpled heap on the ground.
Breathing heavily, Matt took a moment to bend down and brace his arms on his thighs. His hand throbbed from its contact with the man's jawbone, and he could feel burning pain and a trickle of blood between his shoulder blades where the crates had got him. His knee seemed to have come through unscathed, but from the amount of air on his back, he was pretty sure his shirt was a total loss. He spared a moment to reflect that at least this meant Kitty wouldn't have to replace all the missing buttons.
As he stood up, he saw that he'd drawn a crowd. What looked like most of the Long Branch patrons and a few curious townsfolk were gathered in the entrance to the alley. As he watched, the crowd parted to reveal the determined figure of Kitty Russell. He smiled to himself at the sight of his beautiful redhead, come to rescue him from his own heroics.
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As she pushed her way through the crowd of onlookers, Kitty steeled herself for what she might find. Thankfully, she hadn't heard any gunshots, so it was likely that the worst she'd see were cuts and bruises. But she always worried about concussions, and if he twisted his bad knee it meant days of serious pain.
Breaking through the crowd, she saw that her man was standing, and his opponent was not. Definitely a good sign. Matt looked basically okay, if a bit worse for wear. He was covered in dirt, no doubt from rolling about in the alley; his hair was a riot of mussed curls; and his shirt was currently lacking any visible buttons, hanging open to his waist to reveal an expanse of toned chest and stomach, streaked with dust and sweat.
Kitty paused in her mental inventory long enough to admire the very masculine picture her man presented. Noting the frankly admiring stares directed at the semi-naked man from the knot of saloon girls surrounding Alice, she decided she couldn't really blame them. Matt Dillon was as fine a specimen of his sex as you were likely to see, and there was definitely more of him than usual on display at the moment.
As he turned slightly to look down at his erstwhile attacker, she saw that he'd somehow managed to tear a huge piece off the back of the shirt as well. Kitty sighed to herself, mentally debiting his shirt inventory and adding one more polishing rag for the Long Branch. More worrying was the trail of blood running down from between the shoulder blades of his broad muscled back – that would need tending right away to avoid infection.
Okay girls, Kitty thought as she pushed past the crowd, show's over.
Matt gave her a tired grin as she came to his side.
"Matt, you're injured." Kitty took a closer look at his back. It appeared to her practiced eye to be more of a scrape than a puncture, thank goodness.
"It's nothing, Kitty." Matt's answer was so expected she barely registered it.
"Festus," Matt turned to address his deputy, who had appeared just behind Kitty. "Can you see about getting him to the jail?"
"Shore thing, Matthew." The deputy quickly took charge. "You fellas, grab a piece of him and let's get him over to the jail. The rest of you folks, go on back to what you was doin' – nothin' more to see!"
As the crowd began to disperse, Kitty took gentle hold of Matt's arm, speaking so only he could hear. "Come on Cowboy, let's get you patched up, and find something to cover that oh so masculine chest of yours before those girls forget themselves and I have to defend your honor." She smiled mischievously up at him, watching the blush suffuse his cheeks. He'd forgotten his state of semi-undress, and she saw his eyes widen in mild alarm as he registered the expert appraisal of the nearby saloon girls.
For all his fierceness on the job, her man was actually on the shy side when it came to the opposite sex. He had confessed to her once that he didn't understand what women saw in him, though enough of them had gone after him over the years that he knew they clearly saw something he didn't. She was pretty sure that until he'd met her, he'd never really had to do much serious courting. And truth be told, she hadn't made him do as much courting as she probably should have. He still needed periodic prodding to remind him that a bit of special attention went a long way toward keeping his woman happy. To his credit, she had to admit he was always willing to try, even if his job did interfere with their plans more often than not.
Right now though, he was the one who needed some attention, and not the kind he was getting from his flock of admirers in the alley. Kitty turned back toward Front Street and he went with her, clearly eager to reach the privacy of her quarters above the saloon. Kitty quickly led him around to the alley behind the Long Branch and up the back stairs into her rooms.
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When they stepped inside, Matt crossed to the door to hang up his gun and hat, as was his habit, then sat at her table to remove his boots. The left one came off without protest, the sock following. The right one was always harder because he couldn't twist his knee as far, and after he'd tugged on it a few times, he wasn't at all surprised when Kitty knelt down to help. Once he was barefoot, she took his hand and pulled him to his feet. Knowing that he wasn't going anywhere until she'd tended to his wounds, Matt let her lead him into the washroom.
Besides, though he wouldn't usually admit it, he really rather liked Kitty's ministrations. He liked the sure, gentle way she touched him when she was caring for him, and the feeling of being the most important thing in her world, the only focus of her attention. He also liked what often happened after she got him cleaned and bandaged to her satisfaction, though he sometimes had to work at persuading her that he wasn't too injured to handle the more intimate touches of hers he craved.
As she turned away to rummage in the cabinets for antiseptic and bandages, he ran his eyes admiringly over the enticing curves of his woman's figure. After a fight like he'd just had, assuming he wasn't too beat up, he often found himself craving the other kind of physical contact, and tonight was no exception. He could tell his injuries were fairly minor even by non-Matt Dillon standards, and if he cooperated, hopefully she would make quick work of tending to him and they could move on to more appealing pursuits.
He spared a glance at himself and realized he might have another problem – he looked like hell. He'd really need cleaning up before he'd be fit to share her bed. Or maybe he could distract her sufficiently that they wouldn't make it to her bed…
Apparently finding everything she needed, Kitty turned back and ran an appraising eye over him. He smiled at his angel of mercy. "Thanks, Kitty." He spared a glance at the remains of what had been a brand new work shirt. "Looks like I ruined another shirt." At her answering grimace, he gave her his best remorseful look, and was pleased to see her expression soften to its usual indulgent resignation.
"Well," Kitty sighed. "Let's get what's left of it off you so I can see what you did to yourself this time."
Moving to comply, Matt started to shrug the garment off his shoulders, only to stop with a grimace at the sharp objection from his injured back. Seeing this, Kitty stepped in. "Here, hold still – I'll do it." With practiced ease, she pulled the shirttails out of the front of his jeans, then reached around to do the same in the back.
Matt stood still, holding his arms out from his sides a bit so she could reach around him. He was happy to let her do the work, while he enjoyed the feel of her so close to his body, and breathed in the intoxicating scent of her hair. His hands itched to slip around her and pull her even closer, but he held the impulse in check, knowing she wouldn't be diverted until she'd tended to his wounds.
With his shirt now hanging free, Kitty stepped back slightly and looked up at him with an amused smile and a twinkle in her beautiful blue eyes. "I'm not sure there's any dirt left in that alley, by the look of you." And then his breath caught as she touched him, running her finger slowly down his bare torso, all way from the hollow of his throat to his belt buckle, before holding it up to show him the evidence of her claim.
He had to clear his throat before he could speak – damn, but he wanted this woman! "Sorry, Kitty," he offered. "I can wash up first…"
He didn't get to finish, as she pressed a finger against his lips. "Don't you worry, Cowboy, I'll handle it." The warmth of her gaze made him wonder if perhaps he wasn't the only one with non-medical activities on his mind.
He couldn't imagine that he looked very enticing in his current disheveled state, and it might just be wishful thinking, but he swore he saw a flash of hunger in her gaze as she slid her hands up across his chest, catching his shirt and carefully sliding it over his shoulders and down his arms before tossing it into the corner.
The feel of her fingers brushing across his bare skin sent goosebumps skittering down his arms. In a bit of premature timing, it also sent blood rushing to certain nether regions. Clearing his throat again, he called up the image of the big ugly hill man. That helped a bit, as did Kitty's retreat from his immediate vicinity as she collected a washcloth, soap and a basin of water, laying them on the small table near where he stood.
It was going to take all his willpower to resist the urge to lift her off her feet, press her up against the door, and … stop that you idiot! Matt glowered at himself. Kitty was sure to notice the results if he didn't halt that train of thought right away. Think of the hill man – big ugly hillbilly with arms like giant hairy sausages… ahh, much better. Matt sighed with relief. Now if he could just keep this up once Kitty started touching him again…
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As she dipped the soft washcloth in the basin and rubbed some of her expensive lavender soap into the pile, Kitty smiled to herself at the thought of the exquisite torture she had in mind for her heroic cowboy. She knew that fights like tonight's often made her very masculine man want to demonstrate his virility in more intimate ways as well, and that this was one of those times. She'd seen his eyes darken when she touched him, felt the involuntary shiver run through him when she removed his shirt.
She could tell he was trying to be on his best behavior. No doubt he would uncomplainingly let her fuss over him, hoping to move on quickly to more amorous pursuits. And she planned on accommodating his desires, oh yes she did, but not before she had a little fun testing his willpower.
Besides, even though she was sure he didn't get it, those saloon girls had fully meant every salacious look they sent his way, and for good reason. Standing there in the alley, running a big hand through his tousled hair as he struggled to calm his breathing, with his ripped shirt hanging from his broad shoulders and sweat tracing rivulets through the streaks of dust on his bared and heaving chest – well, he was, to put it simply, all man, and every red-blooded women there couldn't help but respond in kind.
Conveniently for her, Matt Dillon was all her man, and she was going to show him just how much she appreciated that fact… after some medical preliminaries, of course, and just a wee bit of teasing to make sure he'd fully appreciate the end result as well.
Wringing some of the water out of the washcloth, Kitty turned back to Matt. She gave him a particularly warm smile, amused to see him swallow hard as he watched her approach. Giving him a slight break, she started with his face, gently wiping the dirt and sweat from his cheeks and forehead. He sighed happily at the sensation, keeping his eyes shut as she ran the cloth gently over his face and down and around his neck.
Pausing to rewet the cloth, she turned back to find him watching her, his blue eyes once again revealing the heated direction of his thoughts. Kitty put on her best poker face – time for a bit of fun. She smiled innocently at him, getting a sweet grin in return. He really was adorable sometimes. But no matter, she was on a mission, and she wouldn't stop until she had him hot and bothered and ready to do whatever she asked.
Slowly she ran the cloth across his shoulders, pressing up close to him to reach around and stroke it across the top of his back as well. She could feel his breathing speed up slightly as she let her breasts brush against his chest. Then she stepped back and slowly ran the cloth down the front of his chest, drawing lazy circles across his pectorals, making sure that she 'accidentally' stroked across his nipples as she went. She was pretty sure he'd stopped breathing entirely at that point, so she paused once more to wet and wring the cloth.
Returning to her task, she stroked straight down one side of his chest, past the ribs to the sensitive skin over his stomach. When she reached his pants she slowly slid the cloth sideways, just grazing the skin under the waistband. His eyes were closed again, and she was pretty sure he was trying to think dampening thoughts. A quick glance south of his belt confirmed that her efforts were clearly meeting with more success than his. She had to make a conscious effort not to lick her lips at the sight of his solid length straining against the taut material.
Before she gave in to the urge to reach for him, she started the cloth heading north again, stroking up until she reached his armpit, then down again over the sensitive skin on his side, across his stomach again a bit more quickly, and up the other side. A small tremor passed through his body as she finished by stroking one more time across his pectorals, her nails gently catching on the taut buds of his nipples as they passed under her cloth.
She smiled in anticipation – the only problem with teasing her man was that she had to tease herself as well. Damp and disheveled and looking impossibly sexy in nothing but his pants, he was damn near irresistible. If it weren't for the need to take care of his back injury, she'd be sorely tempted to take him right where he stood.
But she was concerned about his injury, and it was time to get serious about making sure it wouldn't cause him any problems. Rewetting and re-soaping her cloth once more, she moved around behind him to inspect the situation more closely.
"This may sting a little." Carefully she wiped away the blood and dirt, revealing a three-inch gash just to the inside of his left shoulder blade. It didn't appear to be too deep, thankfully, but it would require some alcohol and a bandage. Leaving the cloth in the basin for the moment, she poured some alcohol onto a clean piece of the cotton wadding Doc supplied her with for just these occasions.
Placing a hand on his arm, she squeezed briefly. "You were right, Matt, it's not too bad, just a gash, but I am going to need to disinfect the wound with some alcohol before I bandage it." She could feel him tense slightly in anticipation of the pain he knew was coming. She wished she didn't have to do it, but Doc had made it very clear how important it was to disinfect thoroughly any time the skin was broken, especially with a not-very-obedient patient like Matt. As gently as she could, she pressed the soaked cotton against the wound, hearing his hissed intake of breath.
Having had more practice than she cared to think about, Kitty made quick work of cleaning and bandaging the wound. When she finished, she dropped a light kiss on the middle of his back. "All done with the bad part, Cowboy. Now let me get the rest of the alley off of you, and you'll be almost presentable."
She heard a deep chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Whatever you say, Kitty."
She smiled at that. Still being Mr. Cooperative. It was time to make him forget about that wound. She rewet the cloth and returned to her task, stroking firmly but gently across the rest of his broad back, then running it up and down his arms, savoring the feel of the hard muscles under her touch.
There, that should do it. Now to dry him off – very, very deliberately. Kitty dropped the washcloth into the basin and picked up a length of soft toweling. "Okay Cowboy, let's get you dried off." Kitty moved around in front of him again, noticing his intense blue eyes following her every move.
Slowly she repeated her earlier motions, patting his face and neck dry before rubbing the toweling sensuously over his chest and stomach and arms. As she finished that task, she was pleased to observe that his breathing and heartbeat had sped up again. Pressing up against him, she wrapped the toweling around his torso, rubbing it over his back and sides with sure and careful strokes. By the time she reached up to use the toweling on his hair, she was pretty sure his little deputy was standing tall in the saddle again, ready for action.
She didn't have long to speculate, as it turned out. Apparently Matt had reached the limits of his willpower, because as soon as she dropped her arms and tossed the towel aside, she felt his hands sliding across her hips to pull her close. Bending down, he captured her lips for a loving kiss. "Thanks, Kitty. I couldn't have a better nurse."
She smiled up into his warm blue eyes. "You're welcome, Cowboy. Any time."
Stepping back from his embrace, she played her final card. "Well, shall we see if we can find you another clean shirt to ruin?" A mischievous smile. "After all, you can hardly go back out like that – too many swooning females."
Matt blushed adorably, then cleared his throat, stepping up close and pulling her back into his arms. "Um, about that…"
Kitty let her hands trace lazy patterns on his bare chest. "Yes?"
Matt swallowed hard. "Well, Festus is doing rounds, so I don't actually have to go back out, at least not right away…" He looked at her intently, clearly hoping she'd gotten the hint.
Kitty slid her arms around his neck. "I see, well, you are injured, so perhaps it would be a good idea for you to take it easy for a while. I could read to you, if you like…"
Matt pulled her hips tightly against his, erasing any possible doubt as to his intentions. "That wasn't exactly what I had in mind, Kitty."
She smiled up at her handsome shirtless hero, finally letting him see the desire she was feeling. "Hmm, well, perhaps we can find some other way to occupy the time."
This earned her a full-wattage Matt Dillon smile. "I have a few ideas…" With that, he lowered his head and captured her lips for a heated kiss.
When they finally parted to breathe, she gazed lovingly up at him. "I like the way you think, Cowboy."
And that was the last complete sentence either of them spoke for quite a while…
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