Up and Ready

by mahc

She let her eyelashes bat playfully. 'So Marshal, in that case, how about you make everything up to me, huh' Companion Piece to 'If a Tree Falls Before Bedtime'

Up and Ready

A Gunsmoke Story

Companion Piece to "If a Tree Falls Before Bedtime"

By Amanda (MAHC)

POV: Kitty

Spoilers: "Hostage!;" "Quiet Day in Dodge"

Rating: Mature (definitely)

Summary: The part of "If a Tree Falls" that you didn't see.

Author's Notes: I promised this to Piglet a long time ago. It's the "missing scene" from "If A Tree Falls Before Bedtime," and it's for all of you who like it hot. Here's your warning! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I didn't create these characters.

Kitty Russell had been halfway up the stairs to Doc's office before she realized the deeper significance of Sam's warning: "You could be – molested."

Maybe it was a good sign that it took her that long to understand he was thinking of Jude Bonner. An involuntary shudder ran through her – as it always did – when that name brushed her thoughts. It pleased her, though – the fact that she had found humor, sarcastic humor anyway, in the comment before she heard fear. The smile crept to her lips, a warm swell of fondness for the man who was more friend than employee.

A soft rap of Doc's door went unanswered. A stronger rap produced the same results. No Doc. He could be anywhere, of course. Maybe even gone all night delivering a baby or sitting up with a feverish patient. Sighing, she plopped down on the top step, chin in hands, and contented herself with observing the comings and goings on Front Street. The cooler evening air breathed across her skin, and she felt the ire that sharpened her temper dull a bit.

It was not that she was mad at Matt – not exactly. She knew he was tired, knew he had a rough day – or several days. But she couldn't help it. After standing her up over the picnic, and promising to make it up properly over dinner – and especially after dinner – how could he just fall asleep?

Of course, she admitted to herself that her disappointment might be sharpened by the rather unflattering idea that her charms had held no power over him. He chose sleep over her. No, that wasn't fair. She doubted he actually chose sleep. Rather, sleep chose him.

The Long Branch had been empty when she pushed back inside some time later, not even Sam left to greet her return. Crimps and Dooley were gone; only the memory of their rambunctious celebration remained – that, and a few coins on the bar. She smiled at the thought of the harmless old fellows leaving the money to make up for their rowdy fun.

Shaking her head, she began a weary climb up the stairs, no anticipation of what-might-have-been lightening her step. A noise from the upper hallway stopped her momentarily. For a second, her heart raced, thinking it might be Matt, but then Sam emerged from behind the curtain that separated her quarters from the rest of the rooms.

She narrowed her eyes curiously, suspicion tickling her thoughts. "Sam?"

He flinched uncharacteristically. "M – Miss Kitty." Was he stuttering?

"Everything okay?"

"Fine, Miss Kitty." His words offered reassurance; his demeanor contradicted them. "I was just – ah – checking doors before I locked up – "

"Checking doors?" The suspicion bloomed into an outright theory.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Upstairs doors?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She debated whether to be angry with him or to be grateful that he cared enough to check on her – and Matt. After a pause, she nodded. "And everything's secure?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Toying with the amusing prospect of playing the game a little longer, she finally decided to let it drop. "Okay."

It took every ounce of control not to burst into laughter at the relief that flushed across the bartender's worn features.

"Good night, Miss Kitty," he wished, passing her.

She looked up at the door, knowing an evening of sleep was the only thing that awaited her. "Good night, Sam."

His footsteps reached the stairs; then, she heard him stop and turn. "Miss Kitty?'

Curiously, she looked at him, watching him fight himself. Finally, he took a breath and said, "He's been awake for three days straight."

Involuntarily, a red haze swept across her vision, renewing the anger and frustration that had propelled her from the saloon earlier. She knew very well Matt had been awake.

"It's awful hard to fight three days worth of sleep," Sam continued quickly as his eyes met hers. "Even if you have a very good reason to try."

In a moment of self-revelation, Kitty had to admit that some of her angriest moments came when she knew someone else was right – and she was wrong. A smile pulled at her mouth. "He could barely keep his eyes open during dinner," she revealed, her wrath at Matt fading. And in that instant, she dropped all anger, a sudden, shameful feeling washing through her. Poor Matt, exhausted from the trail, harassed by Mrs. Pry and who knew how many others before he could get any sleep, and finally snubbed by his own woman for something he had no control over.

"You know," Sam offered unexpectedly. "I've noticed the marshal doesn't usually need much sleep. When I've gone out on posse with him, I've seen him catch a couple of hours on the trail and then be up and ready to go."

Kitty felt her jaw drop. Had Sam said "up and ready?" Sam? "Really?" she managed to ask.

His gaze dropped. "Really." Ducking his head, he murmured, "Well, good night, Miss Kitty. Sleep well."

Touched, but accepting reality, she laughed and muttered, "I'm sure I will," then eased through the door.

Sam really was quite dear, she decided, still not completely sure she had heard him right.

XXXX

Matt still lay where he had fallen an hour or so before, a mighty tree whose limbs spread out all over her bed. She sighed, contemplating how she could wriggle even half her body in there next to him. But she was damned if she would sleep on the settee.

She noted his boots lay on the floor, neatly placed by the nightstand. Sam, she realized. Nothing else had been removed, though. She chuckled at the thought of the bartender trying to divest the marshal's long frame of clothes. Without Matt's help, she wasn't even sure she could do it.

But she was going to try. The pants would go first, she figured. All she had to do was unbuckle and unbutton, then tug. The unbuckling part was easy – she'd had years of practice at it. And the unbuttoning was downright fun. He stirred slightly at her touch, his lips turning up in a smile. She smiled back, wondering what he was dreaming, hoping it was about her and not one of those past outlaw girlfriend that seemed to crop up from time to time. Under her breath, she muttered a friendly warning to him.

Pulling the pants down proved a bit more strenuous, mainly because she couldn't push his 240-pound frame up enough to free them. Finally, after some intricate maneuverings, she had them and his underwear at his knees, after which they cooperated nicely right along.

She turned, then, to his shirt, her fingers deftly slipping the buttons through their holes, baring his broad chest for her viewing. When she had reached about halfway down, she heard him moan softly.

"Lee – "

Kitty stopped her motions and frowned. Lee?

"Sweetheart – " Matt moaned again.

A hot rush of anger swept over her along with a sickening jolt to her stomach. She had been only half joking with herself before, but it seemed now as if her fearful thoughts had been right.

"Oh, Lee – " he groaned.

Furious, Kitty snatched her fingers away from his chest and stood to storm out of the room, her heart and pride sharply wounded. But before she could take a step away from the bed, a strong hand closed on her wrist and tugged her back. She gasped as she turned to encounter a pair of very blue and very mischievous eyes.

"Matt!" It was an involuntary cry.

He grinned boldly, considering how much trouble he was in. "Where ya' goin', Red?" he asked, voice low and husky.

Realization struck her with a clash of anger and relief. "Matthew Dillon!" she scolded. "That was absolutely the meanest – "

But she didn't get any further before his hand pulled her down, and her body fell on top of his, and his lips silenced her with a deep, slow-burning kiss. She felt his heat sizzle through her skin, igniting a fire within her that could only be doused one way.

When his lips left hers to trail down her neck, she tried to muster the ire she had felt moments before, but the effort was weak. "You are – incorrigible," she told him, her tone contradicting her words.

His teeth tugged on her earlobe, sending shivers through her. "If that means I want you desperately," he whispered, "you're right."

"No, it means – " she began, but suddenly lost her train of thought as his hands slid over her hips and pressed her against his hardness. "It means – oh, who the hell cares what it means – " Giving up, she found his lips again and ran her own hands down his shirtfront, ripping the remaining buttons off.

"Hey!" he protested, pulling away just a bit.

Sitting up and lifting the skirt of her dress, she straddled him, fitting their hips together so that his eager erection pushed against the moist lace of her lingerie. "What were you saying?"

He groaned. "Uh – nothing – nothing at all – "

"Oh, Matt," she murmured, softly and voluntarily this time.

"You gonna stop there?" he wondered.

"You want me to stop there?"

"Uh uh."

"You get the vest; I'll get the shirt," she proposed.

It didn't take him five seconds to shrug out of the outer garment. Kitty reached for the remaining piece of clothing, pushing it slowly off his wide shoulders, touching much more of his skin than the material of his shirt. She let her hand rest at the center of his broad chest, enjoying the beat of his heart. Her fingers didn't stop there, though. Instead, they teased over the muscles of his stomach and lower until they danced across his groin, the bare flesh swollen and hard and surging beneath her touch.

Kitty ran her fingers down his generous length, just barely skimming along the hot satin skin. Looking up, she felt her heart race as his eyes burned into her gaze. His breath caught, and he arched toward her when she let her hand grip him just a bit more firmly. It took considerable control for her not to fall onto him at that moment and take him inside her, take him deeper than any other man had even been.

Matt knew he had been her only man for years now, just as she knew she had been his only woman, but sometimes she wondered if any of his former girlfriends had ever found another lover so fulfilling. She pushed back the pang of jealousy that always came with the thought of him being with anyone else. He was hers now, and she never doubted that.

He caught her hands and, breath labored, touched her cheek. "Kitty, I need to tell you something before – "

She shook her head. "Matt – "

"No. Let me finish."

Nodding, she reluctantly sat back.

Chagrin colored his strong features, giving him that little-boy expression that she never had been able to resist. "Kitty, I didn't mean to, well, I really didn't mean to – I'm – I'm sorry I fell asleep."

She opened her mouth to grant forgiveness, but he silenced her with a tender kiss.

When he drew back, he continued. "And I'm sorry about the picnic." She smiled as a petulant frown crossed his face. "I hear Doc enjoyed it, though," he noted, with an endearing expression amazingly close to a pout.

"Oh, he did," she assured him wickedly. He was not forgiven enough to avoid a little needling. "Especially the pie."

He frowned. "Yeah." But then his frown softened and his voice grew serious. "Kitty – "

"I know, Cowboy. I know." She wouldn't make him apologize for doing his job – not this time. "Maybe I was a little hard on you yesterday," she conceded. "You'd had a rough time."

His eyes brightened at the prospect of mercy.

"Going three days without sleep, bringing in a prisoner, getting stabbed, chasing after a delinquent child, locking Mrs. Pry in a safe – "

"I didn't lock her in there," he protested. "I got her out."

"She blames you anyway. Did you see her face – "

He grimaced. "Don't remind me."

"Still," she said, pitch rising a little in only partially-feigned hurt, "I had been counting on that picnic. And you promised that tonight – "

"Tonight's not over," he pointed out.

"That's very true." She let her eyelashes bat playfully. "So Marshal, in that case, how about you make everything up to me, huh?"

Intensity darkened his eyes. "I think I can do that," he agreed, his hands sliding to her waist and turning her so that she lay beneath him. "Just don't mention Edsel Pry again."

She laughed. That she could guarantee.

"You seem to be entirely overdressed, though," he observed. Then, without further warning, he took his large hands and ripped the fine material of her dress right down the middle.

"Matt!"

"Turnabout's fair play."

"That was just a shirt. This dress cost – "

As his lips flickered over the swell of one breast, her words melted into a moan.

"You were saying?" he mumbled against her glowing skin.

"Um, I was – nevermind – "

With his help, she wriggled out of the remains of her once-expensive gown and lay beneath him, clad only in the scant lingerie she had selected earlier in anticipation of the evening. The fire in his blue eyes confirmed her choice.

"Kitty," he breathed, his hands gliding over her exposed skin. "You are beautiful."

She blushed. It wasn't as if he hadn't told her that before, but Matt Dillon was not often effusive. That made it all the more special when he was inspired to gush over her – or at least it was gushing for him.

His eagerness had already provided sufficient lubricant. Knowing he couldn't handle too much teasing, she slid her panties off and pulled him back toward her, unable to suppress her own moan as he teased her aching body.

"Oh, Matt," she murmured when he clutched at her thighs and rubbed against her, close, but not entering. Her body ached for him, begged for more, but he held strong just at the point of pleasure.

Finally, unable to voice her need, she grabbed his firm hips and pulled him hard against her. He smiled down at her, but the tightness of his mouth revealed his own struggle for control.

"Kathleen," he whispered, and allowed himself to push in slowly, just the tip, before he pulled back out.

"Matt!" Frustration found her voice as she scolded and begged at once.

But he slid in only part of the way again and withdrew, repeating the motion several times before she couldn't take it any more, wrapped her legs around him and arched up hard. They both gasped as he thrust in fast and deep, the pleasure and pain igniting an inferno inside her.

After that, neither of them could slow down the inevitable. He let himself go, and she reveled in the completeness of his thrusts, intense and purposeful.

They were both too far gone now for the usual finesse, the tender foreplay, the teasing caresses. Through her haze of desire, she watched his handsome face as he gritted his teeth and pulled out almost all the way, then plunged back in, all pretense of tenderness gone. They both felt the drive, the need. She writhed beneath him, her legs curled around his waist, his hips pounding against hers, hitting deep and hard with every thrust. Kitty arched her back and lifted her hips to meet his, her body throbbing now with her own need, need he had created, need only he could satisfy.

She wondered vaguely if Sam were still downstairs, if he could hear their passionate cries. Then she decided she didn't really care. Let all of Dodge hear them tonight. Her hands grabbed at Matt's wide shoulders, tugging him down so that she could feel the light spread of hair on his chest brush across her breasts. The surge inside her indicated he had appreciated the move, as well.

His voice, hoarse and strained, betrayed his failing control. "Kitty, are you – "

"I'm ready," she assured him, knowing that was an understatement.

Somehow, he held back a few more moments, running his long fingers over her nipples and bending to tease them with his teeth and tongue. The shock waves zapped their way straight to the deepest point of his penetration, and she felt the uncontrollable spasms grip her body with relentless and overwhelming persistence. Calling his name, she threw back her head and bucked against him, every wild contraction squeezing around him in exquisite agony.

He groaned, and she felt him swell even thicker, heard the quickness of his breath, and knew that he was about to go over. Tightening her legs around him, she concentrated on tightening inside her body as well. It was the final straw.

With a harsh grunt, he thrust in and froze, his arms, usually steady and strong, trembling as he held his body in position to explode inside her. She felt the contractions grip him, the involuntary pulses sweep through him until the liquid heat burst out and burned deep within her. Over and over, his release continued, filling her with waves of pleasure until he gave a final push and dropped onto her, lingering spasms pumping randomly while he remained inside her.

XXXX

Kitty woke to find herself alone in the bed, but the evidence of the night's activities remained. Blushing, she thought of Sam's comment and decided he was absolutely right. Once Matt had a couple of hours sleep in him he was good to go. In fact, he had been good to go three times before they finally collapsed into each other's arms for what remained of the night.

He had certainly made things up to her. Even now, her muscles protested from their hours of rigor, and deep inside she ached pleasantly.

"Matt?" she murmured, missing him already.

The bed dipped, and she felt lips brush hers. "Morning."

"What on earth are you doing up already?" she managed, sleep slurring her words.

His voice was light. "That's not how you felt last night. You seemed to want me up – a lot."

One peek showed her he was already dressed. Damn.

"Rounds," he explained, sighing. "Besides, I figured you might need the rest."

"And you don't?"

He just grinned. "Maybe later."

"Well, Sam said you didn't need – " she started before she caught herself.

His eyes narrowed. "Sam said I didn't need what?"

"Uh, nothing."

"Kitty?"

She scrambled for a save. "Sam said you didn't need to worry. He'd open up today."

"Sam always opens up," he knew. A suspicious frown pulled his brow down. "And by the way, how'd you get my boots off last night? You usually need my help – "

She caught his eye and held his gaze for a long moment. Finally, she asked, "Do you really want to know who took off your boots last night?"

Face flushing with comprehension, he stared at her.

"And do you really want to know what Sam said?" she pushed.

"No. I don't think I do," he finally decided, then leaned in to give her a soft, brief kiss. "I'll see you later, Kitty."

But as he braced an arm to push up from the bed, she cupped one hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down for another kiss, deeper and harder and hotter. At the same time, her other hand rested in his lap. Before the kiss had ended, she felt the expected pulse against her palm.

"Kitty." The word fell somewhere between a scolding and a plea, but he didn't try to move her away. Encouraged, she began to stroke below while her mouth moved on his above.

"Kitty – " This time it was a groan. Somehow, he managed to pull back from the bed. Her eyes twinkled mischievously as she saw the uncomfortable-looking bulge beneath his pants.

Taking a shaky breath, he said, "I've – I've gotta do rounds. Festus – uh – Festus and Newly'll be back, then they'll – "

She reached out and stoked him again, bolder this time, and he closed his eyes.

"Ungh, Kitty, if you don't stop – "

"You don't know what you're missing," she told him, pushing hard against him.

"Oh, I do," he groaned. "Believe me, I do." Prying open his eyes, he looked at her. "What if – what I stop by in about an hour after my rounds?"

"Come back upstairs? There may be folks in the bar." She squeezed slightly.

His breath sucked up quickly. "I'm tellin' ya, if ya keep doin' that, I'm gonna have to change clothes again."

She grinned, delighted with the control she had over him. "Come back in an hour. I'll have you another set."

"It would be too obvious."

"What about my office?"

"Your office?" he frowned. "Kitty, that's too close to business. Anybody could – "

But her hand ran over him again, pressing hard; her lips nibbled at his neck. She watched his will crumble.

"Office – " he gasped. "Okay."

Abruptly, she withdrew her touch, almost laughing at the pain that tightened his eyes. "You are an evil woman, Kathleen Russell," he accused, standing awkwardly.

She didn't contradict him, but simply advised, "You might want to wait a minute or two before you go out in public."

He could only nod.

She smiled as she watched him lean against the doorframe for a good five minutes, trying to calm his uncooperative body. Finally, he was successful enough to meet the world without displaying his significant attributes.

"Your office," he verified hoarsely, looking back at her and tugging on his hat. "One hour."

"My office. One hour," she confirmed, already regretting the wait as the door closed behind him.

She hoped they hadn't been too impetuous. Her office was anything but ideal. Still, somehow that didn't much matter. In fact, it provided the element of danger, the chance that they might be discovered – not that she really wanted that to happen, but the thought provided guilty excitement.

Then, her practical side nudged into her thoughts. What was she thinking? There wasn't a bed down there, or even a cot. An office chair and table – which was probably not strong enough to hold them. She shook her head. That left nothing –

But in that moment, another idea pushed in and she grinned, her body tingling in anticipation. That left nothing – except a very sturdy, very functional desk.

Her office. One hour. She lay back on her pillow and sighed.

It would be a long hour.