Longmire: Frames
Chapter 5…..Poses
"Oh Jesus Walt… Damn!" Victoria Moretti fell back to the blanket and rolled to her right side. Beside her Walt ran his fingers through his hair then curled up behind her.
Walt ran his hand up and down her thigh, finally resting it on her hip. They were both sweaty, and the combined heat of their bodies just made him want to sweat more, but he needed to feel her close to him, to know she was there, real, not a dream. It had been too long since he'd needed that kind of reassurance. No, I've needed it for a while, this is just the first time I've admitted it to myself.
"Damn Vic… I feel like I'm eighteen again." Walt chuckled then buried his nose in the back of her neck. Vic surprised him when she reached up to the hand resting on her hip. She laced her fingers through his then guided his hand down to her stomach, idly stroking her thumb across his. She arched her neck and back then snuggled back into his embrace.
"Are you sure about that? I mean most of the guys I met couldn't even do all of that even if they were twenty-five." Vic laughed softly then turned her head to look over her shoulder, eyebrows raised.
Walt just snorted and tried to frame this moment in his mind. He loved Vic's expressive face. Her sharp cheekbones, brown eyes, wide mouth, the fact that anything she felt was open to anyone who cared to notice.
Vic lay her head back down and asked "So, what is in the cooler?".
"A six pack of Rainier, some hotdogs, ice." Walt answered nonchalantly.
"Uh-huh. So your master plan was to get me up here, get me drunk, get my panties off, and have sex."
Walt rolled over onto his back, and stretched his arms. "Something like that. How did I do?"
"Well you got me up here, and got my panties off, and had sex, so… seventy-five percent. Mind you seventy percent is a passing grade in school so… I'll give you a D on sticking to the plan but an A for the execution of the relevant parts." She sat up, blanket falling to her waist. Just as she did, she heard an owl hoot twice off to her right, and heard… something. It was probably some animal rustling around in the leaf litter. She turned her head to look at Walt questioningly.
Walt had sat up just a couple of seconds after Vic and looked around her towards where they had heard the owl. He'd heard something move, but he doubted it was anything dangerous. He shook his head and reached over for the cooler and snagged two cans out of the ice. Handing one to Vic, he reached back into the color, fished around in the ice for the package of hotdogs and brought them out, along with a pair of metal skewers.
"I'm not sure I need any hot dogs right now." Vic smirked at Walt and then laughed at the look he gave her: head tilted down, the look he used to intimidate people with. He handed her one of the skewers.
"You need calories, I need calories".
"For?" Victoria inquired, sure she knew the answer, but wanting to make this quiet man spell it out. She loved the deep rumble of his voice. She could feel it in her core, between her breasts every time he spoke.
Walt tore open the package of wienies and thrust it towards her face. "We just burnt off calories, and are going to burn off more later. Besides what's the use in having a fire without hotdogs to cook?"
He loved it when Vic laughed. Her laughter was the same as her face; anyone who cared to try could read her easily, and he enjoyed this Vic more than the Vic from just a few weeks ago. He knew she wasn't over losing the baby, but she had regained a sparkle in her eyes and in her laughter. "So, did you and your father ever go camping?"
"My father? Camp? His idea of camping would be bitching about the slow-ass power company after a power outage. Although he did keep a couple of propane lanterns around for "just in case". I always loved the hiss the times we used them."
"I miss being back there sometimes, but…", Vic took a deep, deep breath. "I love the smell here. The trees, the not polluted with exhaust from a god damned bus, or garbage in a back ally or vomit behind some shitty bar."
Walt rested his hand between her shoulder blades. He wanted to say something. Some smart-ass comment like she would, or words of comfort. Something, anything, but he remained silent. She scooted over to sit between his thighs, her legs folded, as she skewered her hotdog. "So, I stick it in like this?" she queried, sexual innuendo dripping from her words.
"Uh-huh" Walt grunted as he skewered his own set of calories. "Then you hold it over the fire and…" he never got the rest of the words out. Vic turned her head and kissed him hard.
Later it turned out that Walt was right about needing the extra calories. It had started with him brushing aside a strand of her hair as she ate. She'd replied by stroking her hand down his stubble covered cheek. And as things progressed, neither was aware of the predator just out of site, camera clicking away. Nor did they pay attention to the strident hooting of the nearby owl. For now, it was about primal needs. Fire, food, sex. The world was narrowed to lips and tingling nerves and sweat and moans and desperate need.
The predator continued to click away, wishing he could throw something at that owl. It still unnerved him, just sitting there, staring at him. Condemning him for trespassing onto this property, into these lives, into this moment. Yet his forefinger continued to repeatedly press the shutter button. Walt and Vic are done! He smiled.