This fic is intended for mature readers due to the vivid
depiction of a consensual adult relationship.
The setting is First Season, post-“The Preacher”, screenplay by John
Dunkel, story by John Meston, original airdate June 16, 1956. This fanfiction
was written with absolutely no regard whatsoever to actual Kansas topography,
geography or meteorological activity, equine expertise, proper medical
treatment, dream states or pioneer homemaking skills.
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Happily, Matt had slept like a log for the remainder of the morning
while Kitty prepared their rabbit stew over the fire, using vegetables from
Rosemary Wills’ pantry. Her heart ached
for this woman whose house she now inhabited.
She pondered Rosemary’s hopes and dreams for the future, fatally dashed
by a lethal fever. It made her speculate
once more about her uncle’s ranch and what the value would be now that it had
been ravaged by the flood. She anxiously
wondered if her own hopes and dreams would be dashed as well. Her eyes lingered for the hundredth time on
the handsome man who lay in the bed, slumbering soundly.
The stew was done, but she let Matt be, mentally willing his
battered body to repair itself with blissful, healing sleep. Her heart swelled in her chest as she gazed
affectionately at his face in repose, so like a little boy’s, innocent and free
from strain. She resisted the
overwhelming urge to kiss his forehead, now thankfully dry and cool. Instead, she settled with a sigh into the old
rocker by the fire and was soon herself fast asleep.
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She startled awake with the sound of the door closing and turned to
see Matt in his grimy union suit, just returned from a necessary visit out
back. “Matt, why didn’t you wake
me? You shouldn’t have gone by
yourself.”
“You looked so peaceful, Kitty.
I didn’t want to disturb you.
Besides, my head’s feeling much better now. I think I can manage the outhouse by myself,”
he said with a sheepish look her way.
She stood before him, arms crossed, nose wrinkling. “Matt, take that nasty thing off and let me
wash it. It is filthy enough that it
could probably stand by itself and take off walking.”
“Aw, Kitty…” he began, but then at the stern look on her face, he
quickly changed his tune. “Okay…” he
grudgingly relented.
She politely turned while he stripped off the soiled garment and
slipped modestly beneath the covers once more.
She circled back around to find him holding it out to her from the
bed. “Thank you, Marshal. I will take care of this as soon as you’ve
eaten.”
“Food smells good, Kitty.
I’m actually feeling a little hungry.”
“Good!” She sat beside him
on the bed with a plateful of stew, thinking that he could probably feed
himself, but she so enjoyed this intimate time with him that she was reluctant
to part with it. “Open wide,” she
smiled.
“Mmm…” was his only response as he chewed.
She grinned happily. “You
like it?”
“You are a mighty good cook, Miss Russell,” he said with a mouthful
of rabbit, his blue eyes sparkling.
A bit of gravy dripped on his chest, and she carefully wiped it
with a cloth napkin, then spread the cloth tenderly over his bare chest. “More?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he enthused.
“Have you eaten yet?”
“No, I was waiting for you…”
He took the fork from her fingers, scooped up a bite of potato, and
held it expectantly to her
lips. She gazed at him, then took it in
her mouth slowly. “Mmm…” she said with a
hint of surprise. “It is
good.”
“I told you…”
She smiled as she chewed thoughtfully. “Yes, you did. I guess I should listen to you more
often.”
He barked out a laugh, and they ate the rest of the stew
companionably until it was all gone. She
sighed as she wiped clean his lips and her own with the napkin. “I guess I’ll go wash your clothes now. You stay right here.”
“Kitty, I wouldn’t be able to get very far in this
state,” he said with a raised brow and an embarrassed glance
downwards.
“No, you’re pretty much my prisoner right now,
Marshal, and don’t you forget it,” she smiled coyly, heading outside to the well
with the offending dirty clothing in hand.
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Matt woke to a darkened room, the only sound a
whispered oath from his dainty red-headed companion, seated quietly before the
fire attempting to comb the stubborn tangles from her snarled hair. His mouth ran dry at the sight of her figure
in the gauzy white shift, backlit by the blazing fire. “Come ‘ere, Kitty.” He stiffly sat up in bed and beckoned to her,
“Let me help you.”
Starting at his voice, she hesitated for several
moments as she contemplated his serious expression, then rose and walked towards
him as he patted the bed beside him, his covers slipping to his narrow
waist. He took the brush insistently
from her hand and smoothed it over the tousled mass of her neglected tresses,
eliciting soft, involuntary sounds of pleasure from her parted lips until her
hair gleamed in the firelight. He
stroked a hand admiringly over his handiwork before laying the brush on the
nightstand. Then he slid across the bed,
holding the covers aloft expectantly.
Kitty swallowed hard and slipped underneath with him, lying on the warm
spot he’d just abandoned, her head resting on her elbow as she gazed curiously
at his long-lashed, sweet blue eyes.
He took her hand in his and inhaled deeply. “Kitty, I’ve always liked you. A lot.”
Her eyes widened at his admission. “I like you too, Matt.” She looked down, tracing invisible patterns
with her finger on the sheet. “A
lot.”
He reached out and placed a finger under her
chin. “You don’t understand, honey. I mean, I really care about you. I worry about you. It’s not safe, what you do…” He blew out a frustrated breath at his
inability to express what he was feeling.
“Matt, you’ve been such a good friend to me. I’ve always thought I might like it, us, to
go further…” She glanced away
shamefacedly. “But I didn’t think you’d
want me.”
“Wouldn’t want you?
You are the most beautiful...” He
struggled for words, his brow wrinkling in consternation. “…smart, kind… How could I not want you?”
“Because you’re a U.S. Marshal…” she choked out. “And I’m a saloon girl.”
“Kitty, I don’t care what people think. I don’t care that you’re a saloon girl,
serving drinks to customers, but…” he left off, not sure of what to say for fear
of hurting her. “I don’t want you doing
the same sort of work when we get back to Dodge.”
Her face flushed pink at his implication, and she
answered under her breath, “I don’t want to do that anymore either, Matt. I hate that part of my life.” Her voice broke and her eyes filled with hot
tears. “I just can’t do that
anymore…”
“You don’t need that extra money, Kitty. We can repair the damage to your uncle’s
ranch. It’s only a day’s ride. I can work on it. Chester will help, too. I know he will.” He brushed away an errant tear that had
rolled down her cheek. “You can still
sell it, and it might take you longer to raise the rest of the
cash…”
She gripped his hand tighter.
His eyes were pleading.
“But no more business upstairs, Kitty.
No more, you hear me? I…I care
about you too much.” His next words
rushed out while he still had the courage, “I love you, Kitty
Russell.”
A quick, astonished intake of breath and she kissed him soundly on
his full lips, wrapping her small body gratefully around his bare form, holding
him warmly, closely, sweetly, desperately…hungrily.
“You love me?” Astonishment
swallowed her features in the dim room.
“Of course I do. How could
you not know that?”
“Why, Matt Dillon, you’ve never even tried to kiss
me.”
“Can I kiss you now?”
“I want you to kiss me now, Matt.
I want you to kiss me until I can’t breathe. I want you to make love to me.”
“I’ll make love to you, Kitty Russell. Come ‘ere…”
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Exquisitely
smooth, naked skin on sweaty, tangled sheets.
Soft, sensual cries of wonder and longing and deferred passion
unleashed. Greedy lips and insatiable
mouths breathless with rapture—laving and suckling and tasting ripe flesh. Hands ravenous for the feel of the other
beneath fingertips, embracing, clutching, exploring. Legs covetously encircling, velvety softness
urgently impaling silky hard length, earthy exclamations of devotion and
delight. Bewitching, impassioned thrusts
in the flickering firelight, succulent breasts heaving, flaming hair tumbling
seductively. Sweet, blessed,
overwhelming passionate release, satisfying a void too long hollow. Fierce aching, yearning, needing—at long last
fulfilled. Two lovers, entwined,
exhausted…tenderly joined in heart and flesh forevermore…
End
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