2015 Day Two: Banked Fires Burn Longer Longmire TV
Title: Banked Fires Burn Longer
Author: lanalucy
Disclaimer: Victoria Moretti does not belong to me.
Rating: PG
Prompt/Prompter: jaq_of_spades Vic/Walt: She's a detective. She can figure this out, dammit. (Vic tries to understand why she wants Walt Longmire.)
Spoilers: vague spoilers for season four (?) Chance Gilbert arc
Notes: This is my first substantial foray out of BSG. Thanks to jaq for pushing me out of my comfort zone.
Thanks to fragrantwoods and jaq_of_spades for beta
Maybe it's just that she's lonely, needs to get laid. But who the fuck is she going to fuck in this backwater town? State. And what was the point in fucking a guy who wouldn't even remember her the next day? Probably the same point in fucking a husband who only saw what he wanted to see. Not satisfying in any way.
But it was a long way from she's lonely and needs to get laid to being inexplicably hot for Walt Longmire.
He was old. Not ancient, but compared to men she'd been with before, old.
He was attractive enough if you looked at him right, but not by any means could he be considered hot. Besides, he was just not her type.
He was predictable - not a spontaneous bone in his body.
And passion? She might've seen him angry once. Twice. In the entire time she'd known him. And he'd never been excited about anything she could remember.
But if she was honest, which frankly she didn't want to be - because Walt Longmire for fuck's sake! - maybe there was another perspective. He had good qualities, right? She liked him as a person and as a boss, so...maybe she should take another look.
On the job, he'd never treated her like she was anything less than perfectly capable. He knew she could handle herself, and he acted accordingly. Ed had never treated her that way. And she'd been a great cop in Philly, but she was learning things from Walt she couldn't have learned in the city. She was becoming a better cop just by working with him every day. Maybe - just maybe - she was even becoming a better person by being around him.
Walt was old...okay, older, but what did that really mean? Younger men were easier to fool, easier to play. Sean had never really seen more than she'd shown him. Was he even interested in knowing more about her? He had only wanted the good girl side of her, the good little wife, had not so secretly wanted a far more submissive woman. Ed had only wanted the bad girl, the rule-breaker. The more she'd fucked up, the more Ed had loved it. How the fuck had she ever been so stupid?
Walt, on the other hand, saw through everything, even if he never said a word, seemed to like her no matter which her it was. He never seemed surprised to see another side of her, always took her moods in stride. The hugs or touches on the shoulder, which would have been sexual from anyone else, told her he saw when she needed a bit of steadying. He didn't make a big thing of it, or act like she was flawed because she was having a vulnerable moment, just put a hand on her and let her settle.
And yeah, okay, he wasn't movie star handsome like Sean. But looks weren't everything. Ed hadn't exactly been George Clooney either. And when she thought about Walt's callused fingers trailing at a snail pace up her arm, she ached in a way she never had with anyone else. It really was a good thing this place was cold and she wore long sleeves most of the time. Much as Walt touched her, she'd never get any damn work done.
And predictable...maybe that was another way to say dependable. Always there, no matter what. She couldn't count on Sean to show up if she needed him. Half the time, he wasn't even in the state. And Ed had shown up at that place, but fuck, it'd been his fault she'd been abducted in the first place. Him and Sean. Always making plans without bothering to ask her what she wanted. Assholes.
Walt though, he had come running when Sean had called, worked with Ed to get onto the property, put himself in the line of fire, kept Chance Gilbert talking until everyone had gotten away. Held her when she cried afterward. She'd felt safe in that moment.
Maybe that was it. Walt made her feel safe, secure, comfortable in her own skin, so she didn't have to try to be anybody special around him. She was good enough already.
His unflinching eye contact was a good quality, the quiet way he smiled when she made a joke, or even better, when he did, was comfortable, their silent moments together were easy. And even when he didn't want to talk about something, he talked to her even if he had to skirt all the way around whatever topic he was avoiding. The silent treatment wasn't something he stooped to using.
And she didn't really believe Walt lacked passion - she had seen him desk-throwing angry, after all - so maybe it was just his passion burned quietly, more like banked coals than a four-alarm fire, slow and steady but longer. So his passion was quiet, covert.
For just a moment, the idea of that intensity of his focused on her for hours on end set her skin ablaze. She could imagine those gentle touches of his changing, teasing her rather than calming her down. She'd bet he could make it last all day with no one the wiser, then take her home and make love to her half the night. The only hurry he'd be in would be to make her come. Or maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d tease her that way too.
So maybe older was a good thing, experience and patience and wisdom and all that shit she certainly didn’t have yet. And less attractive? Well, eye of the beholder, and this beholder was shifting in her seat at the thought of him. And if he’s so predictable …
Why the hell is she sitting here, wondering about this? Driving herself mad with maybe, maybe … will this be the time his touch strays? What will he do when her restraint snaps? Will he push her away, or unleash all that intensity?
He gripped her shoulder, breaking her reverie. She looked up and his hold tightened. Taking a chance, she put her hand over his and squeezed. The low, throaty rumble only she could hear sounded like a volcano set to explode, and she held her breath, wanting. Waiting.
Suddenly she was desperate for the moment all this thinking, wondering, hoping would be done.
I will hopefully get a couple more done, but either way I've enjoyed playing the last two years! Wishlist away, kind folks!
Author: lanalucy
Disclaimer: Victoria Moretti does not belong to me.
Rating: PG
Prompt/Prompter: jaq_of_spades Vic/Walt: She's a detective. She can figure this out, dammit. (Vic tries to understand why she wants Walt Longmire.)
Spoilers: vague spoilers for season four (?) Chance Gilbert arc
Notes: This is my first substantial foray out of BSG. Thanks to jaq for pushing me out of my comfort zone.
Thanks to fragrantwoods and jaq_of_spades for beta
Maybe it's just that she's lonely, needs to get laid. But who the fuck is she going to fuck in this backwater town? State. And what was the point in fucking a guy who wouldn't even remember her the next day? Probably the same point in fucking a husband who only saw what he wanted to see. Not satisfying in any way.
But it was a long way from she's lonely and needs to get laid to being inexplicably hot for Walt Longmire.
He was old. Not ancient, but compared to men she'd been with before, old.
He was attractive enough if you looked at him right, but not by any means could he be considered hot. Besides, he was just not her type.
He was predictable - not a spontaneous bone in his body.
And passion? She might've seen him angry once. Twice. In the entire time she'd known him. And he'd never been excited about anything she could remember.
But if she was honest, which frankly she didn't want to be - because Walt Longmire for fuck's sake! - maybe there was another perspective. He had good qualities, right? She liked him as a person and as a boss, so...maybe she should take another look.
On the job, he'd never treated her like she was anything less than perfectly capable. He knew she could handle herself, and he acted accordingly. Ed had never treated her that way. And she'd been a great cop in Philly, but she was learning things from Walt she couldn't have learned in the city. She was becoming a better cop just by working with him every day. Maybe - just maybe - she was even becoming a better person by being around him.
Walt was old...okay, older, but what did that really mean? Younger men were easier to fool, easier to play. Sean had never really seen more than she'd shown him. Was he even interested in knowing more about her? He had only wanted the good girl side of her, the good little wife, had not so secretly wanted a far more submissive woman. Ed had only wanted the bad girl, the rule-breaker. The more she'd fucked up, the more Ed had loved it. How the fuck had she ever been so stupid?
Walt, on the other hand, saw through everything, even if he never said a word, seemed to like her no matter which her it was. He never seemed surprised to see another side of her, always took her moods in stride. The hugs or touches on the shoulder, which would have been sexual from anyone else, told her he saw when she needed a bit of steadying. He didn't make a big thing of it, or act like she was flawed because she was having a vulnerable moment, just put a hand on her and let her settle.
And yeah, okay, he wasn't movie star handsome like Sean. But looks weren't everything. Ed hadn't exactly been George Clooney either. And when she thought about Walt's callused fingers trailing at a snail pace up her arm, she ached in a way she never had with anyone else. It really was a good thing this place was cold and she wore long sleeves most of the time. Much as Walt touched her, she'd never get any damn work done.
And predictable...maybe that was another way to say dependable. Always there, no matter what. She couldn't count on Sean to show up if she needed him. Half the time, he wasn't even in the state. And Ed had shown up at that place, but fuck, it'd been his fault she'd been abducted in the first place. Him and Sean. Always making plans without bothering to ask her what she wanted. Assholes.
Walt though, he had come running when Sean had called, worked with Ed to get onto the property, put himself in the line of fire, kept Chance Gilbert talking until everyone had gotten away. Held her when she cried afterward. She'd felt safe in that moment.
Maybe that was it. Walt made her feel safe, secure, comfortable in her own skin, so she didn't have to try to be anybody special around him. She was good enough already.
His unflinching eye contact was a good quality, the quiet way he smiled when she made a joke, or even better, when he did, was comfortable, their silent moments together were easy. And even when he didn't want to talk about something, he talked to her even if he had to skirt all the way around whatever topic he was avoiding. The silent treatment wasn't something he stooped to using.
And she didn't really believe Walt lacked passion - she had seen him desk-throwing angry, after all - so maybe it was just his passion burned quietly, more like banked coals than a four-alarm fire, slow and steady but longer. So his passion was quiet, covert.
For just a moment, the idea of that intensity of his focused on her for hours on end set her skin ablaze. She could imagine those gentle touches of his changing, teasing her rather than calming her down. She'd bet he could make it last all day with no one the wiser, then take her home and make love to her half the night. The only hurry he'd be in would be to make her come. Or maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d tease her that way too.
So maybe older was a good thing, experience and patience and wisdom and all that shit she certainly didn’t have yet. And less attractive? Well, eye of the beholder, and this beholder was shifting in her seat at the thought of him. And if he’s so predictable …
Why the hell is she sitting here, wondering about this? Driving herself mad with maybe, maybe … will this be the time his touch strays? What will he do when her restraint snaps? Will he push her away, or unleash all that intensity?
He gripped her shoulder, breaking her reverie. She looked up and his hold tightened. Taking a chance, she put her hand over his and squeezed. The low, throaty rumble only she could hear sounded like a volcano set to explode, and she held her breath, wanting. Waiting.
Suddenly she was desperate for the moment all this thinking, wondering, hoping would be done.
I will hopefully get a couple more done, but either way I've enjoyed playing the last two years! Wishlist away, kind folks!