#insomnia marshmallows

Insomnia Marshmallows (Part 1)

Pillowy white clouds covered everything that you could see as you looked out of your kitchen window, not that you could see many surfaces due to the angry pelting of dusty snow falling from the sky. The “blizzard of the year” had started, and you were cozied up in your house, ready for a few days of silence and peace.

Content to sip your hot chai tea and snuggle on your couch in your warmest sweatshirt, you turned on your current tv show, enjoying your evening while the snow poured out over the ground. You were basking in peaceful bliss, that is, until your power flickered, veiling you in near pitch black.

“Fuck.”

You knew in the back of your mind that this could happen. Hell, your new friends had warned you when you moved up here that it would, but you hadn’t been worried. You’d been stuck inside without power during a few of those famous ‘buy all the milk and bread’  “snowstorms” that happened in the South. You knew how to manage… right? How bad could it be?

As you began to dig around for all of your supplies, a mild panic began to set in. Blankets were abundant in your house, but as you came to the end of your blanket collection, you suddenly started to irrationally convince yourself that you could freeze to death. Your new house didn’t have a secondary heat source. You had no generator, no fireplace; you knew you were screwed. To top it off, you became painfully aware of your inadequate lighting as you lit all four of the candles and powered on the single lantern that you owned, only managing to light up your kitchen and part of your living room. You looked around, feeling defeated.

“Fuck me, why am I so stupid?”

You were jolted by the heavy knock that boomed from the living room.

Your savior appeared as you opened the door, his snow-chained truck still running in what might have been your driveway. Your brow furrowed, thinking that it could have also been your front flower beds, though you couldn’t be sure. The snow was coming down thickly now, blowing sideways as the wind picked up and swirled broodingly behind him. Your brawny neighbor, Detective Walter Marshall, stood before you with a large spotlight and a lantern, his gorgeous features illuminated by the glow of the lights.

“Pack a bag and get in the truck. You’re not staying here.”

“Hi Walter, how are you? That is what people normally say when greeting each other.” He was not amused. Instead, he looked at you with unwavering concentration. His bulging arms were crossed, showing off his biceps even in his thick sweater. “What are you talking about? I’m going to be fine.”

Why are you lying? You just panicked mere minutes ago.

He didn’t hesitate a bit at your words. Instead, he looked behind you at your sorry excuse for lighting, then at the huge pile of blankets you’d placed on the kitchen table. He carried an unimpressed expression and raised his eyebrow in your direction. “You have no heat and the power grid for the entire area is down. This storm could last for a few days. I am not leaving you here stranded with no heat when you would be perfectly warm at my house.”

“Walt, I’m fine. I have tons of warm clothes and even a space heater that I can plug into my car to charge. Look, I appreciate that you came all the way down here…”

“.. And because of your appreciation and all of those Southern manners that you tell everyone you have, you’re going to pack your bag and get in the truck.” Walter looked pointedly at you. “That space heater is a joke. Your car battery will die before you ever get it charged enough to turn on.”

“I promise that I’ll be okay, I —”

“Pack a bag.”

You knew you’d already lost. Closing your eyes and sighing heavily, you asked him, “You won’t take no for an answer, will you?”

“I’m not asking.”

The man looked at you with serious sternness, though his eyes seemed to soften the longer yours held his. He broke eye contact and ran a hand over his beanie-covered curls, his hand moving to comb at his beard. “Come on, I’m going to worry about you down here alone. Go get your things, you can stay with me until this thing is over. I have an extra room for you and a wood-burning stove and fireplace to keep us warm. At least I’ll know you have heat and aren’t shivering to death, alone.” He glanced back over his shoulder at the swirling of the storm. “Too much longer, and I don’t think anyone will be able to drive in this, even with snow chains.”

You desired to argue with him if only to push his buttons. This was your house, after all — you could stay if you wanted to. You were a grown woman who could take care of herself even without the gruff detective; you didn’t need a knight coming to your rescue.

Although deep down, you knew he was right  — there was no way you would be able to keep warm if this lasted more than one night. You also knew his stubbornness wouldn’t let you stay here; it was the natural protector in him.

Damn, I don’t want to admit he’s right, he’s a smug bastard when he knows he’s right.

Walter’s words brought you out of your head —

“Alone.” He reemphasized and frowned at you. “With no one to save you.” His stare intensified.

“Okay, okay! I get it. I’m coming.” You invited him in as you quickly made your way to your bedroom, grabbing a bag and pulling warm clothes out of your closet. Walter followed and stood in the doorway, keeping watch over you, almost like he expected you to try and run away.

You should have been embarrassed when he watched you pull pairs of lacy underwear out of your drawer, but you weren’t.

Walter’s intense personality had turned you on since the day you’d bumped into him outside the diner, spilling your to-go lemonade all over the both of you. You’d never made any advances towards him – you actually enjoyed his company and didn’t want to make the situation awkward with the two of you being close neighbors, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t hard to control yourself when he was around.

Dark brooding men were your weakness. This one wore sweaters that you wanted to wrap yourself in and had a beard that you wouldn’t mind feeling against your skin.

Walter Marshall was mysterious. Your casual acquaintanceship with Walter had been instantaneous, even though he didn’t seem to be the type to normally make friends. He was your closest neighbor by a mile and was, by far, the most intriguing. You considered yourself lucky that you had a police detective living close. Butterflies erupted in your chest whenever you saw him, but somehow, despite that, his presence managed to calm you; It was the greatest contradiction.  It took a few weeks for you to be able to piece together what he did for a career; he didn’t like telling people — they asked him fewer questions when they didn’t know.

“I’m going to go ahead and assume that you also didn’t buy the snow chains I told you to buy, did you?”

You were in your bathroom now, packing your toiletries, “No, I haven’t, Dad. I wasn’t exactly planning on going anywhere during all of this, so I decided that I don’t need them.”

Walter sighed and shook his head at you, “These winters are going to kick your ass if you don’t listen to my advice, love. I’ve seen too many people get cocky and end up stranded, or worse…”

“I’m going to kick your ass...” you muttered under your breath.

“What was that?” Walter’s mouth was pressed in a harsh line, but there was a glint of flirtation in his eyes as he gave you a chance to redeem yourself. You shook your head at him, throwing the last few things you needed in your duffle bag, and walked toward him. As you passed him in your doorway, you placed a quick kiss on his cheek, catching him off-guard. His face was shocked, but he almost broke into a smile.

“Nothing,” you said, your hand still holding his forearm, “Thank you for coming to get me.”

Walter insisted on taking your bag for you as he followed you back to your living room, grumbling behind you. “You’re lucky to have such a good neighbor, is what I thought you said.”

You rolled your eyes obviously in his direction but chuckled to yourself. He carried your bag out the front door to his rumbling truck. You grabbed the few belongings you had out in your kitchen and threw them in your purse before locking up.

Walter’s cabin smelled like him: earthy, oaky, and masculine. It smelled delicious.

You’d only been to Walter’s cabin twice before, both very brief, though you’d never been inside. Once when you’d gotten lost while walking the grounds around your home and showed up on his property by accident, and the other when you’d brought him your famous thumbprint cookies as a peace offering for said accident. You’d discovered that he had a secret sweet tooth, and you were happy to oblige him. Two or three times a month, you’d take him a sweet gift in return for his constant vigilance when it came to watching our for your homes.

Walt’s entire cabin was extremely well put-together and was surprisingly homier than you had anticipated. Cozy and comforting, his space held big open windows in every room that, even through the darkness, you knew showcased the gorgeous view you’d seen only twice before from outside. Even though the lights were out, you could see the contours of his home by the light of the lanterns Walter had placed around the cabin.

He set you up in the spare bedroom, telling you to make yourself at home as you parted ways for the evening. You were comfortable in the soft bed, snuggled in under all of the blankets you could stand. Not sure if the fact that you were sleeping in his home had you out of sorts or if it was that he was so close to where you laid, you tossed and turned as thoughts raced through your head —

Was he always this sweet or had you caught him on a hero trip? He was always cordial to you… maybe it’s just the cop in him. Did he do this for other neighbors? What were you supposed to talk to him about for the next few days? Why did his brooding intrigue you? Why can you not stop thinking about him? You can’t stop thinking about him because he’s damn near the most attractive man you’ve ever seen… or kissed on the cheek. What was that, by the way?

You peered at your phone on the bedside table, 11:34. Then 12:02. Then 12:47. You couldn’t catch a break. The exposed skin of your face started to freeze and your body started to shiver despite the innumerable layers on top of you. Getting up, you grabbed a heavy blanket off the bed and padded your way quietly to Walter’s living room in search of heat and something to occupy your mind.

As you walked past Walter’s room, you noticed his door was ajar and his bed was empty. You were quiet to not wake your savior, but your heart nearly jumped out of your chest when you saw his dark figure looming on the couch in the living room, reading by the light of the fire. Bracing your hands on the door frame, you huffed out louder than you anticipated. His eyes jolted to yours and his head cocked in confusion at your being awake.

“Sorry,” you spoke lowly, “I couldn’t sleep.”

He sat in his thick sweatpants and thermal top. You don’t know if he’d ever looked so attractive.

Walter closed his book on his fingers, holding his place as he smirked at you. “Coming to look for me, were you?” His pearly fangs glinted in the firelight; he looked at you like a lion who had found his next gazelle.

This was new.

Your body felt aflush with flames at his gaze. Honestly? It scared you a little: his intensity, his rugged handsomeness. Somehow, you managed to ignore the warmth crawling through your belly.

“I didn’t want to wake you. It’s a little too cold in there...”

“I was afraid of that. Here, come sit by the fire, I'll get you something warm to drink.” You sat as Walter covered you with another knit blanket. He went to his bedroom and, upon returning to the living space, threw a huge pair of wool socks in your direction.

“That’s part of your problem, put those on.”

“Walt, I have socks —” He didn’t have to tell you to hush, his face and the large hand he held up in your direction did it for him. You pulled on the soft, too big, socks and nodded at him, silently thanking him for them. “Do you normally stay up this late? I’m sorry if my being here has thrown off your normal routine.”

“Oh no, it hasn’t. I don’t sleep much these days.” He meandered away, and you couldn’t help but watch his ass as he walked away from you.

And damn he had a good one.

You glanced at where he’d been sitting — a well-read copy of The Hobbit lay on his seat.

Okay, I would have never guessed that.

Looking around the cozy cabin, you wondered how many nights he sat there, alone and unable to sleep. The more you thought about it, he always looked extremely tired.

It made you sad.

Suddenly, you felt closer to him. How many nights did you both share in your insomnia, wishing for someone to share these moments with, not knowing the other was awake only a mile away?

You huddled on the couch, letting the warmth radiate through you. His couch was plush and soft, like sitting on a cloud. You wondered why, in the home of a man who you barely knew, you felt more at ease than you had with any lover.

Your heart fluttered again when Walter emerged from his kitchen holding a campfire coffee maker and bundling the makings for s’mores in the crook of his arm.

He glanced at you before looking down at what he was carrying, and you could swear you saw a glimpse of nervousness in his expression. “I know you have a guilty pleasure of s’mores lattes from Maeve’s… I don’t have all the fancy coffee shit, but I do have coffee and smores. What do you say?”

“How do you even know that?” You didn’t answer his question but instead reached up to grab the skewers and marshmallows from his grasp, getting them ready for roasting.

“I’m an investigator, it’s my job to notice seemingly insignificant things about people.” He set the other ingredients down and got busy making the coffee over the fire. You arched an eyebrow, doubting his argument was completely truthful. Maybe you weren’t imagining his seductive look earlier… or your gravitation towards him.

He resumed his seat on the couch, this time closer to you. His thick thigh grazed yours. Fueled by the electricity that was running over your entire body, you asked him, “Why does knowing my guilty pleasure coffee order come in handy?”

He was silent for a moment as if he was heavily considering what to say next. Walter finally answered when his hands brushed yours as you handed him a skewer for himself. “Well, if a homicide victim smells of coffee, chocolate, and marshmallow and doesn’t smell like fire, we’ve narrowed down our potential unsub suspects.”

“HEY. Maeve’s lattes are delicious, practically everyone in town drinks them. How would you know it’s me? Or that the victim didn’t indulge in one before becoming… well,  extremely unlucky?” You cracked a half-smile at your joke, and the both of you huddled closer as the smell of caramelized sugar and smoky fire wafted through the cabin.

“Simple, I also know that you like cinnamon in those lattes,” Walter smirked at you. “How many people do you think that narrows it down to?”

How did he know that?

You glanced at the box on the table: cinnamon graham crackers. He gently took the skewer with a freshly roasted marshmallow from your hands and began to assemble your s’more for you. You poured the both of you a steaming cup of coffee, munching on the warm gooey sweets.

The caffeine made you feel bolder, more playful. In the glow of the fire, you watched him, both content in your silence. Walter was a walking contradiction: soft, but tough as iron. You found him secretly kind and funny, but he was still very intimidating. You’d never been alone with him in this close of proximity. The heat flushed through your body as you stared right at him. You weren’t sure if it was the fire or if it was the way he stared back at you, but your boldness finally broke the silence.

“I think you notice because you want to.”

“Hmmm…” he nodded and hummed as his coffee warmed his lips. “Is that what you really think?” Walter questioned you, his face leaning closer to yours. Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest when Walter’s finger brushed the corner of your lips.

“Chocolate,” he said quietly, then proceeded to lick his finger. Your heart was pounding in your head. You knew, then. You knew this couldn’t be one-sided.

“It is really what I think,” you murmured, unable to tear your gaze away from the soft pillows of his lips surrounded by that delicious beard. “Am I wrong? Tell me that I’m wrong, Walt.”

The storm in his eyes captivated you. Closing the distance between your lips, you grabbed the front of his cable-knit sweater, the soft fabric buttery on your hands as you pulled him to you. Your lips met his with a passion you hadn’t felt within yourself in months.

God, he felt good.

His beard scratched and tickled your skin as he claimed his mouth with yours.

“Am I reading this right?” You broke away from him, Walter wasted no time as he kissed over to your ear and jaw, placing sensual kisses over your skin.

You were met with a deep moan and a hearty nod. The smile that crossed your face was borderline stupid.

His kisses were all-consuming. He was all-consuming. His hands were large and strong; you knew he could crush your skull with his strength, yet, he cradled your face with a gentleness that you didn’t expect. The pads of his rough thumbs brushed your cheeks as his tongue tangoed with yours. He tasted like coffee and cinnamon… and desire.

No longer cold, heat was radiating from your skin. The heat of the fire, the heat of him, all of it came together and despite the warmth surrounding you, you shivered with pleasure. Your kisses started soft and sweet but bloomed into needy desire the longer your lips touched his.

You weren’t sure what came over you – well, actually you knew, you just couldn’t believe that you were so free – you uncurled from the blanket, and without breaking your kiss, you grabbed Walter’s shoulders and crawled over into his lap, straddling him. His thick thighs and hips stretched your legs further than you’d anticipated, but he felt delicious under you. Arms tangled around each other as you play-bit his lip, sucking lightly on his plush flesh.

You pulled him as close to you as you could get, running fingers through his luscious locks… you’d been dying to touch them since you’d met. You caressed his curls, suddenly wanting to run your fingers through his hair while he kissed your other lips. You wanted him.

Walter’s large hands ran up and down your back, his fingers teasing you slowly. His groans and kisses became louder the more you squirmed on top of him, begging for any friction to relieve your growing need. His pecs felt meaty and hard under his sweater. Smiling against his lips, you ran your chilly hands under the hem of the knit wool, tickling him as he jumped from the cold. Giggling at his surprise, your fingers were met with the feeling of his hairy torso.

Oh, I need to have this man. Every part of him is going to be delicious, isn’t it?

You caressed him, warming your hands against his skin. He moaned heartily into your mouth, grinding his hips ever so slightly underneath yours. Your other weakness? Men who moaned with no reservations. Walter’s low growls flooded your senses with want. Your walls crumbled with every noise he made.

You wondered if he felt as touch-starved as you did. It was like you both had created this buzzing frequency that only surrounded where you sat together. His rugged hand reached up and held your chin. You didn’t know if you’d ever been more turned on than when his thumb tugged gently at the flesh of your bottom lip while his eyes traveled from yours to where he touched you.

Breaking away, you both panted heavily, trying to catch your breath. He met your gaze, you felt the embarrassment wash over you as you realized you had groped and made out like teenagers. Walter chuckled at your situation and you buried your head, finding a warm place to hide in his neck.

“Warmed up, then?” You could feel Walter’s grin as he turned his head to place a bearded kiss on your neck. His beard scratching you made you squirm from the tickling sensation but soon caused you to moan under your breath.

“Uh-huh. Yep… very warm. I’m going to need you to do that again and again.” His kisses continued over your throat, his tongue giving you light licks as he brought a hand to the back of your neck. He held you in place. His strength was insurmountable — you wanted him to pin you down and show you just how strong he was.

“As much as I don’t want to admit it… You’re right,” Walter murmured between kisses. “ I noticed because I want to.”

You tried to pull away, goosebumps breaking out over your skin, but Walter’s grip held you right where he wanted to. His breath was hot and sensual on your neck, but you had to tease. “I’m sorry, what was that? Could you repeat that? I didn’t quite hear —”

“No.” You giggled as his kisses slowed, becoming soft and loving as opposed to the hungry ones you’d shared mere minutes before. He held you on his lap, arms wrapped around you.

After a while, you both untangled, searching for the makings of another s’more and warming up your coffee, neither of you sleepy, even still. You had found a book on his bookshelf, and decided to read with him in the comforting silence. You curled into his side, happy to breathe in his intoxicating smell and feel his warmth against your body.

It wasn’t the book’s fault that it couldn’t hold your interest. It was impossible to concentrate as you took notice of the way his arm felt draped around you and how his fingers traced your thigh over the blanket as he read. You couldn’t take it anymore. Suddenly, you had a strong need.

You put your book down. Grabbing his hand and bringing it to your lips, you kissed it and asked, “Walt? I’m getting a little cold, again… think you could warm me up?”

He was on you in an instant, pushing your body into the couch, his hips flush with yours. He grinned again, and his eyes were wild with desire.

The lion was back, and you were his next meal.

“I have a way to make sure you won’t be cold again, but it does require less clothing. Why don’t you let me show you, love?”