Western Starlight

Missing scene from the end of chapter 4 of The Western Star.

This little scene fits with Craig Johnson's book, not the show. If you've never read the books, RUN, don't walk, to your local library, start with The Cold Dish and don't stop until you run out of books. If you've never read one, you need to know that Vic and Walt are together early on, with none of this silly waiting-for-years like they do in TV-land.

The story to this point in The Western Star: Walt, Henry, Vic, and Lucian are staying with Cady in Cheyenne while Walt testifies against a prisoner's early release. When the group arrived at Cady's, Vic took the single guest room, saying "anyone want to join me?" as she claimed the room. For reasons I will never understand, Walt joined Lucian in the other guest room, leaving poor Henry to sleep on the couch. During a Walt and Cady late night talk at the end of Chapter 4, Henry took Walt's place in Lucian's room, presumably leaving Walt to the couch. Walt takes a late night jaunt to see the prisoner, and his return to Cady's is not in the book, but I imagine he didn't settle for the couch.

Edited just a little from when originally posted because Vic let me know she had something to say.

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Trudging up the stairs to Cady's apartment, I tried not to let my feet fall as heavy on the steps as I wanted. I was tired. Dog tired. And weary from fighting the same battle for over 30 years. But now was not the time to ruminate on that. Maybe Cady and Henry were right and I needed to give up the fight and let it go, but I wasn't quite ready to do that. Recent events with Vic underscored my resolve. Something irreplaceable was taken from me and I wasn't going to let the person responsible escape the consequences.

Cady's front door was unlocked, which was convenient for me, but I was going to have to talk to her about that. Entering the small living room, I could see the new couch was empty. Apparently, Lucian's snoring hadn't driven Henry out of the room. But the couch was not what I had in mind.

I left my boots, coat, and hat by the door and checked on Dog. As expected, he held vigil by Lola's crib and looked as if he had no intention of leaving. With no one to worry about, I let myself in to Vic's room and closed the door behind me.

There was just enough starlight seeping through the blinds to let me see she was lying with her back to the door. I stripped off my clothes and climbed into bed behind her. She was naked and intoxicatingly warm. I wrapped my arms around her and buried my face in her hair. Breathing in her scent, I was transported away from whatever cares lingered in my mind, and I existed only in the space that was Vic. Tension seeped from my body, leaving me blissfully content. She moaned a low, contented moan and any thought of the rest of the world was gone.

"Where the fuck have you been? I've been languishing here in my little bed, all alone, for days. I was beginning to think you preferred that old fart's company to mine."

Touching Vic was always better therapy than anything on earth, and guaranteed to distract me from whatever occupied my mind. I ran my hand down her side, over her hip, and along her thigh. She arched her back just a bit and pressed her backside against me—a move I'm sure was intended to illicit a response, and it was successful. I grasped her hip to stop her movements in order to keep from escalating the situation too quickly. Always on her own agenda, Vic reached between her legs and grasped hold of my cock, bringing it to rest between her things, close enough to her center that I could feel the tickle of moisture. It was my turn to moan as she adjusted her hips again, rubbing herself ever-so-lightly along my hard surface. She then grabbed my hand and guided it from her hip, up her torso, placing it on her breast. I massaged the soft weight of it and reveled in our harmony—our bodies in complete contact from her shoulders to her feet. I enjoyed having her hand on mine as I grasped and teased her breast. She didn't guide my movements, but seemed an equal participant in them, which was an oddly provocative feeling.

As I engrossed myself in her nipples and the smell and taste of her shoulders, she again took hold of my cock, gently rubbing her thumb over the tip. She resumed her slow hip movements and before long, all I could do was breathe raggedly and enjoy the sensations she was stirring.

Though the bed was small, she managed to change our position so I could easily enter her. She guided the entry and kept her hand in place and her thumb on her clit. My hands instinctively went to her hips, synchronizing our thrust and retreat.

I have always known Vic to be a vocal lover, freely expressing her pleasure and giving voice to her sensations. The fact that Lucian, Henry, and Cady were nearby must have had an effect, and she kept silent except for deep, ragged breathing. This was the first time we'd made love in a place with other occupants, and the newness of it lent an element of the forbidden.

Not yet ready to stop, I withdrew and lay on my back, moving Vic to straddle me. I knew from our history this position was sure to bring her release, and it allowed me to see and touch all of her. I wasn't disappointed as she lowered herself on to me, pressing down until I was buried completely inside her.

Making love to Martha was … lovely, but I always had the nagging feeling that she was doing me a favor. I guess I assumed her upbringing had taught her as much. She was also a generally reserved and steady person, which held true in our lovemaking as well. While I know it isn't right, or necessary, to compare the women I've loved, being with Vic is a completely different experience. Her exuberance is as evident in the bedroom as it is in the rest of her life. Her self-confidence makes her fierce in her profession and downright ferocious in the bedroom. Her enthusiasm and complete abandon is contagious and allows me to express myself in ways I never thought possible. I desperately want to make her happy and satisfy her every desire, and not just sexually.

It's moments like this when I'm overwhelmed with how incredibly lucky I am to have this woman accept and love me. I was glad the room was dark so Vic couldn't see the slight tears leaking out of the corners of my eyes as I looked up at her, skin flushed, hair tousled, lips full, and breasts engorged. I wanted to devour her and be devoured, and I never, ever, wanted to let go of her.

Vic's undulating movements increased in pace and ferocity. She was breathing through her open mouth, doing her best to do so soundlessly. I bit my lip as I watched her, grasping her hips tighter with every movement, wanting to scream my physical and emotional exhilaration. Wanting to bury myself within her, I flipped us again, pressing her back into the mattress and my face into her neck. She wrapped her legs around me, pulling me tight and deep. We shuddered together as I continued to move, waves of release coming again and again, until she stilled me and let me feel her muscles twitch, grab, and spasm, pulling me in and indeed devouring my heart and soul.

When our breathing had slowed and our legs could no longer stay as they were, we stretched out next to each other, Vic still on her back, me on my side with an arm thrown over her. There was always so much I wanted to say to her, but I'd said it before. She knew my heart.

"Good god, Longmire. Remind me to follow you to Cheyenne more often." She murmured quietly as she ran her fingertips lightly over my arm.

"I think the nearly one week drought might have had something to do with it. And these," I said as I palmed her breasts, still warm and supple, "I have no control or restraint around these."

"Well it's good to know you respect their power," she said with a half-smile, the one that lets me know I'm the prey.

"Always" was all I managed, as I struggled to wrap the too-small blankets around us, pull her close, and snuggle down into the bed.