Imagine Jeffrey Dean Morgan

Linberg Way to Landlock Pt. 1- Delarue

Character: Henry Delarue

Movie: The Salvation

Warnings: SMUT!

Photo/GIF credits go to the original maker/owner

His horse snorted out a tired breath. They’d been traveling for far too long, but he wanted to get to Linberg Way before the next train stopped by.

He was on a mission to see her. He needed her body, her soft hands, her lips, her bluntness… he just needed her.

The Saloon she owned was dead; last weeks customers having left the day earlier.

As he neared, he could make out all of her girls lounging, relaxing before the new set of John’s arrived looking for a good time.

Going up the wooden steps, they creaked under his weight, the heat drying out the warped wood.

His boots clicked, his spurs twiriling as he entered the Saloon.

Diane, a rather young whore, smiled as he passed the threshold.

“Delarue.”

He tipped his hat in greeting, looking around.

“She’s out back. Want me to get her?” Diane asked.

Henry shook his head, “No. I’ll be in her room. Let her know I’m here?”

Diane nodded, going back to her book.

Going up the wide staircase, he made his way to her room all the way at the end of the hall.

Opening the door, fresh air greeted him, her balcony window opened. A gust of air blew through the room, making the curtains dance.

The natural light created a soft glow, revealing that she hadn’t done much to her spacious room.

In the far corner was her burgundy wood desk, the top of it clean of clutter.

On the other side of the room, a dresser with a porcelain basin, a full length mirror and a vanity.

In the middle, was her king sized bed, loaded with plush padding and the finest linen that could be bought.

He once asked her why she needed such a big bed; jealousy in his tone.

She threw her head back, laughing, “You think I’d let one of those nasty bastards on my bed? Please Darlin’, those days are long gone.”

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he remembered that night.

He went to her desk, reclining back in the chair, propping his feet up on top of it. He smiled, knowing full damn well that she was going to give him hell for having his dusty boots on the table.
°°°°°°
His fingers threaded and resting on his stomach, he was dozing lightly when he heard the click clack of her high heeled boots.

The door opened, her natural apple blossom scent filling the room. Her steps quickened to the desk as she reached out and slapped his boots.

“Nappin’ or not, ya best get yer boots off my desk, Delarue.”

A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. Slowly, he raised his head, peaking at her from beneath the brim of his hat.

“Is that any way to greet your Lover?”

She tapped her toe, her arms folded, “What Lover? All I see is some jackass with his dusty ass boots on my desk.”

She tried to come across as tough, but he could hear the smile in her tone.