#arthur morgan x reader smut

[appalachiancowboy99]

After Dark

Arthur Morgan x CurvyFem!Reader Established relationship, high honor, grumpy Arthur in desperate need of release, 18+, MDNI (Minors DO NOT ENTER)

Arthur comes back to camp later than usual, with nothing but a bad disposition and a desperate need to release his pent-up frustrations.

Warnings: longer read, sexual content (oral, unprotected p in v, rough sex), mentions of violence, mentions of anger, and dabbles in sensual fluff.

Gif by: @sunwingsunset

A/N: Thank you so much to @photo1030 for not only being my sounding board in the never-ending chaos that is my writing process but also for being such a wonderful friend through it all. So grateful for you, don't know what I'd do without ya, C! <3 Thank you so much to @rivetingrosie4 for being an inspiration for my little works and being so supportive of my creative endeavors, not to mention the kind generosity of your friendship! Forever grateful for to have met you! @tortureddpoett I'm so excited to explore this budding friendship with you! Thank you so much for showing so much excitement for my work, IT MAKES ME EXCITED (EEP!). It means an absolute ton to me <3 @mr-inkslinger your friendship has been an absolute delight to explore! Thank you for posting that toe-curling smut that always has me giggling and kicking my feet! So happy to have met ya! And thank each and every single one of you for liking my first drabble and expressing interest in this next one. I'm so sorry it's taken me forever to publish this post, but hopefully, the next ones won't take me as long. I'll forever be grateful for your patience and kindness <3 But now, enough of my babbling, y'all enjoy yourselves with this one- I know I did ;)

Fuck. From the second he opened his eyes, he knew that the day was going to be fucking awful; his neck had a crick in it, his head was pounding from what little sleep he’s received over the last few nights, and now he had to trudge back out into the goddamn muggy heat to work. One disaster after another had piled up; everything that could have gone wrong, went so terribly awry that he wound up farther away from camp than he originally intended and managed to add a solid fifteen-dollar bounty to the mounting collection resting atop his head. Dutch had sent him out on a wild goose chase, following a lead from Micah that, of course, ended up being a complete waste of time. And that meant he was coming back to camp empty-handed, which almost certainly meant he'd be on the receiving end of another one of Dutch's lectures on the endless responsibilities placed upon his shoulders. He dreaded it, wanted to avoid spiraling down another conversation that would end in Dutch questioning his faith in the ever-evolving plan he’s found himself working on these days.

As if he needed any of that horseshit tonight. All he wanted was a moment of peace and quiet, a chance to catch his breath after the disaster of a day he'd just had, but instead, he was headed back to camp with nothing but bruises, a bloody lip, and a bad disposition to show for his efforts. Trees and other bits of scenery whipped by in a blur as Arthur spurred his horse onward, his surroundings melting together into a muddy mess of shapes cast by moonlight. He passed through New Hanover, his furious pace leading him down the familiar roads of Lemoyne, reaching the clearing outside of camp. Lenny and John are the first to spot Arthur approaching the thicket of trees disguising Clemens Point's main entrance. “Hey, who goes there?” Lenny’s voice echoes through the forest, bouncing off the thicket until it reaches Arthur’s ears.

“‘S me.” Arthur grunts out through gritted teeth, clearly not in the mood for any chit-chat. Even underneath the shadow of leaves and limbs, the scowl etched upon his face is easily distinguishable, a clear sign for anyone with any common sense to give him a wide berth for the rest of the night. Lenny and John, both, had a pretty good idea of what might happen when Arthur steps foot into camp and they don't want any part of it. As a result, they give each other a little knowing glance and stay in the treeline, preferring to avoid the impending shitstorm and let Dutch or Hosea deal with it instead. He strides past them in a fit of frustration, dismounting his mare with a jerky movement before she's even come to a complete stop. Kieran spots him and hesitantly approaches. That poor fool. "H-Hey, Mr. Morgan. Would ya like me to unsaddle the 'ol gal here?" Kieran's question was nothing more than an innocent query, but his expression turned the young man into a nervous wreck. If looks could kill, Arthur’s certainly could; his steely eyes are set ablaze with annoyance and irritation as he casts a hateful glance in Kieran's direction. Even Kieran knew better than to talk to Arthur when he was in this state, knowing that it would only lead to suffering at the hands of his unbridled wrath. Kieran’s eyes immediately darted to his feet, desperate to avoid Arthur’s icy gaze as his fingers trembled with the frayed ends of rope in his hands. Quickly as to not start any trouble for himself, Kieran took hold of the mare's reigns and led her away to the field of horses, putting as much distance between himself and Arthur as he could. A slight pang of guilt runs through him when he sees the way that Kieran high-tailed it out of his line of sight. He doesn't want to be harsh to the boy, he's been a useful asset to the gang, but his temper is just too far gone for him to muster up an apology. As fast as the angering thoughts snapping through his mind, Arthur turns on his heels and storms into camp in search of Dutch. His boots furiously hit the grass and reddened Lemoyne dirt as he passes by a few of the wandering eyes from those still awake at this late hour. Charles casts him a wary glance, and so does Sadie, but neither of them cares to look long enough to entertain what's about to happen. He passes by his own wagon and heads straight to Dutch's tent. Dutch is nowhere to be seen, yet the lamp light inside casts its soft golden glow upon the closed canvas flaps of the tent, indicating that he might be inside. Not wasting any more time than he has to, Arthur approaches the tent, not bothering to stop and think until it's too late. His hand raises, readying to peel back the canvas flap, when all of a sudden he hears the sweet amorous sounds of lovemaking echo through the night air.  Molly’s sweet voice gasps out between each movement of their squeaking cot, calling out for Dutch as the unmistakable sound of skin slapping skin penetrates through the thin canvas walls, revealing exactly what’s occupying Dutch’s time tonight.

“Oh, Dutch. Don’t stop,” she encourages through strained, unabashed moans of pleasure. Dutch’s deep, husky voice murmurs back something unintelligible, but the increased squeaking of their bed and the filthy little noises coming from Molly are a clear indicator that Arthur should be stepping away to give them some privacy. Embarrassment washes over him, causing a faint rosy flush to heat his face and bloom across his cheeks. For once, he's grateful for the distraction from his current frustration. On most nights, he'd find comfort in your presence, seeking you out to vent his grievances as a distraction from the ever-present aggravation that seemingly follows him around these days. But tonight, he just wants to retreat to his tent, away from everything and everyone, to try to calm down before he says or does something he regrets.

He strides past the dying campfires and tables that are askew from daily camp activities, and his mind tirelessly races from thought to thought, stealing his attention away from his surroundings. If Arthur had even bothered to look, he would have spotted your sleeping form laid out upon his bed the moment he stepped inside. You had been waiting for him all evening. After working yourself to the bone doing laundry, dinner prep, and other camp chores for Ms. Grimshaw all day long, you wandered your way over to Arthur’s tent in search of a quiet place to sit. Part of you wished to find him seated right there on his cot, wanting to simply have a conversation with the man who has stolen your heart, but to your disappointment, he wasn’t anywhere to be found. So, you waited for him.. And waited until the very idea of waiting became too tiresome and you unknowingly fell asleep.

Sneaking away from the gang for private talks with him has been one of your favorite things to do since you joined the gang so long ago. Y'all have always had a knack for avoiding the company of others. But somehow in the midst of squirreling yourselves away, both of you have come to find that you'd prefer being alone together. Eventually, this led to many nights where Arthur would seek you out just to speak his mind, allowing you to see the world through his eyes for a short while. You have not only embraced Arthur's thoughts, but in doing so, you have captured his heart all the same. If it weren't for you, he's certain he'd have lost his damn sanity long ago.

Arthur takes that dusty old gambler's hat off his head and runs his fingers through his hair, taking a moment to calm himself down. His eyes glance over the things laid out upon his bedside table before catching a glimpse of your figure awash by the pale moonlight in his periphery. Your hair is sprawled out over the small blanket you've rolled up into a makeshift pillow; curls flowing like a roaring waterfall, laying a mess, and finally free from the bun that was atop your head earlier in the day. His eyes rake over your voluptuous figure, noting every dip and curve from your plump waist and hips to the ample swell of your breast hidden by a layer of clothing. The moment his mind registers that your presence isn't a dream, his eyes soften and his mind no longer races with anger. You are his peace, the only thing in this world that he cherishes above all else. 

Sighing softly, he finally discards his hat from his hand and places it onto his nightstand before working off his worn leather jacket and satchel, resting them on the back of the chair nearest his shaving mirror. And while he's on his feet, he takes the time to carefully roll down the canvas walls of his tent, unraveling them with the quiet precision of a mouse, and securing them in a few simple knots to hide you two away from the world.

It's quite dark by the time he wanders over to the cot, dark enough not to notice himself brush against your legs as he takes a seat on the edge of the old creaking bed. The familiar, welcomed-warmth of his body pressing against your shins rouses you from your restful slumber. Your eyes flutter open to find his figure perched next to you, shrouded in a darkness so thick that you are sure you're still dreaming. His head and broad shoulders are slumped over as he begins working off his dusty boots, caked with remnants of mud and manure.

"Hmm... Arthur?" Your voice floats through the quiet darkness, laden with fatigue and clearly carrying the lassitude of someone who could fall back asleep at the drop of a hat.

He quickly glances over his shoulder at the sound of your voice, his eyes already adjusted enough to the shadows to see your tired face staring back at him with confusion. He silently curses himself for waking you. "Shhh, Darlin'. Don't wake up on my account. I'll be done in just a minute," Arthur lightly grunts out the last word as he struggles to remove his right boot.

Even in your own weary state, the exhaustion in his tone isn't lost on you. Thinking it best to rouse yourself as quickly as possible to free up his bed for him, you sit yourself up and will yourself awake with a slight stretch. "'S okay. You need rest more 'n me."

"No. You was restin' 'fore I got here. Go 'head and lay back down." He isn't having any of your courtesy tonight. He's worn out, far too tired to argue with you about whether or not it's appropriate for you to share his bed for the night.

The rest of the gang, aside from John, Abigail, Susan, and Hosea know nothing about the true nature of y'all's relationship. Although, the rest of the girls have picked up on the changes you've brought about in Arthur since your arrival so long ago now. Seeing him get all soft and doey-eyed at you over these last few weeks has most definitely tipped them off about what y'all really get up to when you're out running errands together. But they catch wind of you sleeping in his tent tonight, it will all but confirm their suspicions. And yet, you just can't bring yourself to move from the comfort of Arthur's cot with him sitting so close to you.

"What time is it?" The question falls from your lips, carried on the soft currents of a gentle breeze pushing through the tent flaps. Fine sinewy muscles flex beneath his shirt as he leans over to work off his other boot and you are powerless to admire the shape of his body beneath.

A muffled grunt escapes his mouth the moment he finally frees his aching feet from the confines of his boots, "Late," he simply replies.

You take a deep, cleansing breath, allowing the tranquility of the night to settle around you like a soft, comforting blanket. Outside these walls, no sounds of chatter or lively activity can be heard, aside from the gentle hum of crickets by the riverbank and the faint sounds of a squeaking cot stopping abruptly. The gang is unusually quiet, the air filled with repose now that Arthur's returned safely to you. Only a few stragglers tend to the campfires, their focus solely on themselves, interested in anything beyond the flickering flames; not even the sounds of Dutch and Molly or Arthur's irritation can disrupt the peaceful bubble encompassing Clemen's Point tonight.

The plush heel of your palm rubs over one of your eyes as you flit them toward the tent entrance, watching how the wind slightly ruffles the bottom of the canvas. It's only then that you realize that Arthur has tied down the walls for privacy on your account. Normally, he wouldn't bother setting up the walls before collapsing on the cot for a few restless hours of sleep. But tonight, he's gone out of his way to ensure your comfort. Your heart couldn't feel any more full of love for this man by your side, a man who puts your well-being above all else, even above his own. Never did you think that love would have been like this for you: sitting in the comfortable silence of privacy for lovers when that luxury is rarely afforded for women like you. But despite your gratitude for his thoughtfulness, a pang of guilt gnaws at you knowing he made the extra effort while you took up residence in his bed, a cot that's barely big enough for the two of you given your plump frame.

In an attempt to make up for taking up so much space, you roll yourself forward along the thin mattress and quickly slide past him, crawling toward the foot of his bed where his trunk of clothing is kept. You've decided to give him his space for the night, even though in your heart, you'd prefer to stay. Before your foot even slides off the trunk to touch the soft grass below, you're reminded of John stopping by Arthur's tent earlier in the day.

Through a half yawn, you speak, not giving Arthur the chance to catch-on to where you're headed, "'Fore I forget: John stopped by while you was out."

Arthur slightly leans back as his fingertips mindlessly fumble with the buckle of his gun belt. The slight clicking of the metal rings out as he works to remove the clunky accessory from his body. His strong back brushes against you as he moves with the comfortable ease he's come to enjoy over these last few weeks of secretly being yours.

"What about it?" His concentration is split half between himself and the presence of your body behind him.

Your words don't register in his mind until he's completely removed the belt from his body. He figures it was that stagecoach job he reluctantly handed off to John; it had completely slipped from his mind until this very moment, much like yourself. The cool metal filigree atop his trunk moves under your feet as you rest them just shy of slipping off its edge, causing the hazy memory to play out behind your tired eyes.

-

You were just settling yourself in, resting your weary body on the edge of Arthur's cot, just as you're doing now. Little beads of sweat accumulated on your forehead from working out in the intensity of Lemoyne's miserably humid heat. Grimshaw had you and the rest of the women working on camp chores, which you hadn't complained of, since it usually occupies the time until Arthur's usual return. However, the day was far too hot for you to not complain about the harsh conditions she had y'all in. Eventually, evening came and you were finally finished with the laundry, allowing you a moment's rest to seek out the comfort of Arthur's cot.

In the midst of wiping your brow down with one of his neckerchiefs you'd secretly swiped, the hard thump of boots hitting grass caught your attention. You'd anticipated Arthur's arrival, but something didn't feel quite right. The boots didn't move with Arthur's measured stride; they scuffed the grass and dirt, signaling a different, but familiar presence. The moment you look up, you spot John standing at the entrance of the tent, not at all surprised to see you sitting upon his cot as if it were your own.

For a brief moment, his brow furrowed in a mix of frustration and exhaustion. It was as if he was caught between the two warring emotions, each pulling him equally. Clearly, he expected Arthur to be back already.

"He not back yet?" The gruffness of his voice has you believe the former, rather than the latter.

"Not yet," you say in kind, hoping to ease some of his burden. "Was you needin' him for somethin'?"

John did and the news certainly wasn't going to sit well with Arthur at all.

-

When the thoughts finally coalesce within your fatigued mind, you internally grimace knowing that Arthur isn't going to like the reality of the situation. Gentleness has always been your strong suit, especially when it came to dealing with half of the bull-headed men in camp. So, you lace your words with the softest tone you can manage, "Said it weren't as much as y'all had planned on: about fifty-dollars tied up in what little him 'n Charles found."

And you were right. The news doesn't sit well with him at all. All of the compiled frustration of working a nothing-lead and now knowing that the other job didn't pay well either boils beneath the surface of his skin until he explodes like a whistling kettle. Preventing himself from lashing out at you, Arthur kicks his boot toward the other side of the tent, knocking it into the chair. The loud thunk of its sole hitting wood claps harshly and causes you to flinch, startling you fully awake from the suddenness of noise and his movement.

"Every goddamn day it's some shit," he spits through his teeth.

Although you know he'd never intentionally hurt you, the anger in his voice sends a cold shiver down your spine and your stomach flips and churns in knots. Usually, you'd blame yourself, reprimanding your big mouth for even opening up to mention something that you knew wouldn't bode well for his weary mind. But you're in too much of a shock to even consider self-deprecation as an option. Your wide eyes search through the darkness, watching the shadowed outline of the man you love heave in a deep breath to steal his nerves. His shoulders slump forward and head hangs low as he rests his elbows on his knees, utterly defeated from the compiled anger and exhaustion coursing through him.

It's at this moment that you remember the job Dutch sent him on earlier in the day; Arthur didn't want to go and had very little sleep after working on yet another lead that barely got them anywhere. If it had been left up to you, you would've made Arthur stay right here in this bed to get some rest like he deserves. You would've taken care of him so tenderly, but, as usual, what Dutch wanted would have far outweighed any of your concerns. You've learned to recognize the pattern of these situations by now, and given Arthur's aggression, assuming that today's job didn't go quite as planned would be hitting the nail right on its head. You test the waters with a quiet question, "Lead didn't pan out today, did it?"

The soft shake of Arthur's head, coupled with the shadow of his palm running over his face tells you all that you need to know: no, it hadn't gotten him any farther than where he had started. Another useless effort. Your heart aches watching him struggle with so much weight on his shoulders. No matter how strong Arthur might be, he's just a man struggling to carry his own burdens, let alone everyone else's. Ever since settling down here, Dutch has placed so much responsibility on him that you've wanted to scold the man for even mentioning Arthur's name in passing. He's worked himself thin and thread-bare, barely having any time for himself outside of the time he spends on the road traveling from place to place at Dutch's convenience.

Empathy for the man that you've fallen in love with so long ago breaks your heart, aching in desperation to relieve some of his pain. Instead of walking away, keeping to yourself, and silently shouldering any of the blame for setting him off, you choose to stay the night. Despite knowing full well that the girls will have their gossip circulating by morning, Arthur's needs are far more important than any snickering comment or playful jest that'll inevitably come your way.

You scoot back where you were and lean toward him with less apprehension than what your words had suggested. Resting your delicate palm between the broad expanse of his shoulders, you feel him tense at the soft slip of your tender touch over his shirt. The tips of your fingers glide over his shoulder and silently take purchase on the taut muscle there. With a gentle, yet firm pull, you coax Arthur back toward you.

"C'mere. Lean back 'n talk to me..." Your dulcet tone pierces through his irritation, encouraging him to rest in your awaiting arms.

Arthur slowly reclines back, allowing himself to unwind in your embrace as his much larger body sits snugly against your plump bosom. Relaxing doesn't come easy for him. Hell, you'd be surprised if it had, given the high tensions between him and Micah these days or the tiresome back and forth between the two rival families in Rhodes. He has every right to be terse and tensed up like a snake ready to strike, but you aim to comfort him even if that means you risk getting bit. Silence hangs in the air between you, aside from the gentle breaths and the occasional strained grunt catching in the back of his throat while he struggles to get comfortable against you, due to the remaining stress insisting on clinging to his tired body. Your loving hands splay out over the firm expanse of his chest, feeling the steady and reassuring thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms as you try your best to soothe your brooding lover. It's as if your mere presence cracks away at the anger lingering in the stiff tendons and taut plains of muscle along his torso until he relents and finally lets go. His body relaxes back into you as if he were sinking into the plush, luxurious drapery and bedding found in the finest hotels of Saint Denis; much like the bedding of the room he'd paid for the very same night he had whisked you away to bed you properly for your very first time.

He's silent for a long while, almost reluctant to burden you with his troubles. So, you take it up on yourself to start the conversation by spilling what had happened to you earlier in the day, thinking it might earn a laugh or two, "Well, I'm sure my day weren't as rough as your'n," you hum. "But I did fall off the dock, landing my hind-end right in that water."

The image would usually cause a humorous snort to escape him, but the irritation still bristling at his nerves prevents him from reacting with anything else other than a huff of annoyance, "I told ya to watch your footin' out there. Ain't no use to nobody if you get yourself drowned."

Fortunately, as he chides you his words begin to lack much of the anger from moments ago. But you sigh softly anyways, relenting to his incessant need to protect you from life's dangers, despite being able to handle your own, "I know, I know..."

With a few buttons of that old blue work shirt popped open by your deft fingers, the smallest opening there is just big enough to slip your hand inside and rest it up on the soft but wiry hairs at the very center of his chest. "You shoulda seen me, though," you murmur as you lean down toward his ear, lowering your tone as you press your cheek to the side of his head. "Was drenched head to toe, clothes clingin' to me like feathers on a wet chicken."

He sulks, trying to stay mad at anything and everything he can to give into the bristling anger at the back of his mind, but he can't. No, not when he can clearly envision you all soaked and surprised from falling into that cold lake. A faint smile curls up the corners of his lips and then, just as he almost chuckles, he clears his throat, holding his laugh back. However, you catch on far too quickly for him to play it off so easily.

You gasp softly in mock surprise as if offended by the idea of him laughing at you, "Arthur Morgan. Are you laughin' at me?"

That's when his temperament breaks, giving way to the huff of laughter rumbling through his chest. "I ain't laughin' atchu, per say..." he counters. "Just maybe at the thought of what ya mighta looked like comin' up outta that water: madder 'n hell, hair clingin' to your head," and as if to illustrate his point, Arthur reaches his hand backward and turns his head to try and catch a glimpse of you in the thick shadows, barely making your face distinguishable to his eyes, as he brushes his fingertips over the bits of hair clinging to your forehead from the muggy heat.

Though you narrow your eyes in mock annoyance, you lean into his calloused fingertips, accepting the gentleness of his touch while a giggle of your own creeps up into your throat, "Oh? Is 'at so? Maybe next time I find you out on that dock, I'll think 'bout pushin' ya in 'n lettin' you see how it feels."

He huffs out a skeptical breath and raises an eyebrow at the very thought of you even trying something like that with him. It'd be a futile effort and one that you truly wouldn't consider without the clear consequence of him pulling you right down with him.

And just as soon as the laughter came, it was gone again, replaced instead with a comfortable silence that settles between you two once more, giving him some space to think about what's happened to himself today. Long before the days of your arrival, Arthur would keep to himself and dwell on the ever-present burdens troubling his mind, brooding for hours. But with you, he feels a safety that men like him are rarely afforded.

"Well, if ya think fallin' in Flat Iron's bad..." he continues, "Try goin' halfway 'cross the state lookin' for a man that don't exist. Then when ya find someplace to get a drink, ya end up catchin' a few stray hits from some drunken bastard."

A soft gasp enters your lungs at the revelation. Another fight? You lean over his shoulder, reaching to take his scarred chin into your hand. It's hard to see through the inky-black darkness of the night, but even in the haziness, your eyes can make out the bruising along his jaw, the harsh scrapes of knuckles cutting over his cheek, and the jagged cut on his upper lip. It isn't a rare sight to have him come back battered and bruised by some job from time to time, but that still doesn't quell the uneasiness in your heart at him going through such pain and aggravation.

Your eyebrows furrow in sympathy for your rugged cowboy, eyes softening to match as you breathe out, "Oh, Arthur."

He's quick to dismiss your concern with a soft sigh, pulling away from you to lean forward and distract himself from your sympathetic gaze, "Ah, don'tchu go 'n worry yourself over me none, Darlin'."

Being fussed over or thought of so tenderly still isn't something he's used to; he's shown you that time and time again. But it never deters you from trying to make things better, to make things easier on him however you can. Whatever turmoil Arthur's got rolling about in his mind is far from the usual and it takes patience to understand; a patience that he finds only you can give.

You reach your hand out toward him. The delicate ends of your fingertips reach up to brush over the nape of his sun-kissed neck, grazing over the ends of his slightly overgrown hair, silently making a note to yourself that you'll trim it for him tomorrow. His body shuffles slightly backward, leaning in to accept your touch while he slips off his suspenders: pulling them down his shoulders heavy with burden, before taking his time to unbutton that tattered old work shirt you're so used to seeing around his muscular frame.

"'Sides..." he starts. "I did have some good that came from today."

"What's 'at?" you hum softly with a lilt of dryness. "Hittin' that feller back?"

He can't help the chuckle rising in his throat at the dry sarcasm touching your words. Arthur shakes his head softly, "Nah, Darlin', " the last word strains from his lips as he rises to his feet with a groan, leaving the safe comfort of your touch as he stands to undo his pants.

He glances over his shoulder, peering down at you through the darkness with a smirk curling up at the right corner of his mouth. Watching as your sweet eyes follow his every movement, Arthur turns to face you, allowing you to gaze at him as he slowly pushes the brass button through the eyelet at the top of his riding pants. The fabric opens effortlessly, revealing the red cloth of his union suit underneath. The sight of him before you, suspenders hanging loosely on either side of his long legs and his pants aching to be peeled from his strong form has your lips parted in awe at the man standing mere inches away from you.

He continues from just seconds before, "Seein' you laid out on my bed, purdy as a dream."

After stepping out of his pants now crumpled around his ankles, Arthur lowers one knee upon the cot nearest your thighs. He leans over you, using his thick fingers to tilt your chin upward, meeting his crystalline eyes. "Was one helluva sight I could get used to seein'."

The low timbre of his voice sends a shockwave of desire straight through your heart and into the aching pit of your stomach. Your lips draw up into a shy smile, and a faint dusting of pink envelops your cheeks just like the moment you'd first professed your feelings for him under that canopy of trees he led you through so blindly. Although it hasn't been long since that fateful night, the closeness of your relationship has escalated so quickly that your head and heart dizzy at the mere mention of his name.

Arthur's calloused thumb brushes over the supple swell of your bottom lip, enticing you to part them just for him. You comply, of course, unable to resist how a ghost of his touch makes you so pliant beneath him. And when he leans down to meet your lips with his own, your heart swells with tender affection. Those warm, slightly chapped, but pleasantly plush lips are heady as they connect with a passion that stokes the burning coals of desire in the very base of your core.

"Been waitin' to use that one for a while, hmm?" You hum contently while blindly guiding your hands toward the flare of muscle encasing his ribs. God, how you could worship this man and never tire of feeling how warm, how strong he is beneath your palms.

"Depends. It workin'?" He murmurs, smirking cockily against your lips.

Your mind begins to spin as the calloused pad of his thumb dips from your chin and swipes over your jawline. His fingers splay out over the side of your neck, fingertips gripping you with tender passion to hold you in place. He could easily break you, bend you with his finger and thumb as if you were nothing more than a twig beneath his rough and weathered hands. Never have you felt so small and fragile, always knowing in your heart that you took up much more room than other women. But, when you're with Arthur, he makes you feel as delicate as the petals on a beautiful flower, something so precious and worth loving; it's so much more than you'd ever experienced in your whole life. He touches you so tenderly as if you were made from nothing more than ash, a veritable pile of matter waiting to slip through his fingers at any moment.

You want to hum your praises to your lover, to let him know exactly how much you've wanted this, how much you've missed him, how well he's kissing you, touching you... But you can't. There are no words. He's stolen them from you, drawing all the air out of your lungs with his lips, leaving you gasping for the air coated in his divine masculine scent: sweet tobacco, wood ash, and mossy earth. He encompasses you, wrapping one arm around your waist as he pulls you close to his body, all the while shuffling himself forward to join you on the small cot. Your back presses against the hard wooden frame of the wagon making up the other half of his tent. He presses against you, holding you close to his strong body as he slides his right hand from your jaw, trailing it down over the soft skin of your neck, and down to your chest, where he heatedly palms your breast hidden just beneath your blouse. To have him touch you like this, like a man frenzied and dying for a taste of intimacy, has your head spinning and your heart on the verge of exploding if it hadn't already; for all you know, you could've died the moment his lips crashed into yours, and all that's left is a heaven you'd only dreamt of.

A low growl of appreciation rumbles through his chest for the plumpness of your body. Most men do not know the fine pleasures that extra curves on a woman can bring. But Arthur sure does. And oh how he worships your full figure, despite your opinions about yourself. His large, calloused palm shifts his attention to your other breast, kneading you tenderly while his lips work from your mouth, and instead, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses over your jawline and supple neck.

His name is a breathless sigh across your trembling lips as you allow your hands to explore his body in return. Touching over the large expanse of his torso and gliding your fingertips over the worn fabric of his union suit, you desperately search for the button that would bare him wholly to you. In the time it takes you to undo one of his buttons, his skilled fingers undo two of yours. Button after button unthreads upon both of your bodies, though his hands are much quicker at ridding you of your layers, leaving them strewn about on the ground until he's stripped you down and laid you beneath him in nothing more than your chemise and bloomers to conceal your decency. Arthur then crawls over you, his movements deliberate and enticingly slow as he cages you in with his hands pressed into the thin mattress on either side of your head. Shadows danced and shifted restlessly, playing tricks on your perception as you try to focus on what little of Arthur you could see through the haziness, making the absence of light feel alive. To feel him above you like this has your stomach in knots, tightening with a firey passion that's ready to snap at any given moment. Hearts are pounding, thrumming wildly against your ribcages like birds desperate to escape the confines of your chests. You hear it, hear how his breath shutters with each wild thump of his heart, and you feel it in his breath as it puffs over your cheek. He's losing himself to you and you him, slipping so quickly that rational thinking is no longer of use. You need him and he needs you.

The flaps of his union suit hang loosely from his body, allowing your hands to reach in and press flat over his heated skin. He shivers slightly at the contact, his muscles tensing and flexing beneath the tender meeting of your palms placed upon his scarred, goose-pimpled flesh. Your fingertips ghost over a scar on the right side of his ribcage, causing your face to crinkle with sorrow for what hardship your lover, this great outlaw, has had to endure in his lifetime. The damaged tissue is the result of a nasty fight he had as a young man: when someone stabbed him with the broken end of a beer bottle; they had aimed to kill him, but he had survived. The spot still aches with the memory of Hosea digging out the shards of broken glass from the angry, bloodied wound. But somehow, the way your delicate touch brushes over that old scar with such love and care causes the outlaw's skin to tingle, and his cock to ache with the pride of knowing that you love him so.

He takes his time with you here, laid out beneath him like a perfect little thing he's captured and kept safe by hiding you away in the privacy of his tent. After the day he's had, he wants to savor every bit of loveliness he's blessed with in your presence, so he can't rush this with you, not now. Arthur takes his time admiring you, letting his eyes rake over what he's able to see, and feeling what he cannot. Leaning down close enough to your face to capture that seductive glint in your glittering, lust-blown eyes, Arthur searches for any change within them as he maneuvers his right hand away from the mattress to trail along your sensitive flesh. The rough pads of his fingers ghost over your thigh, caressing the plump deposit of flesh along your middle, snaking up over your collarbones, and over your neck in search of your delicate face before sealing your mouth with his own in a kiss so tender you whimper from the initial contact.

Shivers of anticipation roll through him as your body responds to his touch: back arching off the bed, hands pulling on the nape of his neck to hold him down and assure that his lips won't leave yours, and the way your bloomer-clad hips roll upward in search of some much-needed friction. God how he could spend hours with you like this, letting his hands roam over your body to make you shiver and plead for any ounce of affection that he can give you. Your needy state is only exacerbated by the slight tremble in your thighs as he snakes his hands down over the pillowy flesh, seeking out the waistband of your bloomers. Ridding you of the cloth separating your pussy from his line of sight is an easy feat: the clad, slightly damp undergarment peels away from your plump hips with ease at the help of his precision; the Lemoyne heat causes the clothing to stick to your slightly dampened skin, but dammit if the temperature pales in comparison to how heated Arthur makes you feel. He tosses them down onto the ground, and places his hands upon your knees, spreading them apart as he sits above you to admire the feeling of your plump body beneath him.

His hand is unhurried and exacting, gently brushing his calloused knuckles down over your inner thigh, then lightly petting them over your soaked need covered by a soft thatch of hair. He can't see you fully, but that does nothing to stop his mind from envisioning how your cunt glistens with slick, all for him. The moment he presses his fingertips to your seam, parting you with the practiced precision of a lover, he lets a low, ragged breath escape his nose in appreciation for how wet you are. You shiver and instinctively try to close your knees from the pleasant surprise of his touch, and fuck does it feel good to have him brush over your folds like that.

"Always so ready, ain'tchya?" He murmurs, a teasing lilt to his voice as he takes his time in savoring the feeling of your slick upon his fingertips.

Your hips involuntarily twitch, bucking upward into his hand, seeking out his fingertips to make him swirl them over your aching little clit. You want him to touch you right where you need him, feel him right on that little spot upon that nub of nerves that makes your mind swirl and your body careen into a blissful orgasm. But he doesn't give that to you, not yet. He wants to work you over slowly, savoring every little sound he can draw out of those pretty lips. You're far too shy to answer him directly, instead favoring to cover your face with your forearms as he takes pleasure in taunting you like this. But the moment his fingertips threaten to part your folds, you let out a delicate little noise, someplace between a whine and a prayer to let him know that you're in no mood to endure his teasing tonight, "Arthur... Please."

Oh, how he loves to hear the sound of you begging; he's already half-hard at the idea of you wanting his touch, let alone hearing how desperate you are for it. He answers your prayer with a long, smooth stroke of his thumb parting your puffy, wet folds. You keen at how just a simple touch causes your stomach to flutter and your slit to clench around nothing at all. Your thighs, thick with strength, covered by a layer of squishy softness, part for him, relaxing lazily as he guides his thumb over each of your labia.

It was nearly impossible to get you to lay like this for him a few weeks ago; you'd been concerned about the unsightly appearance of your inner thighs: scarred over with dimples and imperfections, as well as the slight discoloration of having them rub together after so many years of being a larger woman. Most women that you've seen naked, don't have the same ailments upon their bodies as you have on yours. Just the other day when bathing with some of the girls in the lake, you'd noticed that even on Karen's body, a woman closer to your size, still didn't have the scars or discoloration across her skin in the same way that you have. And that night that Arthur had you laid out for him for the very first time, he'd noticed that apprehension in you, taking it as having second thoughts. But once you had explained how you felt about your own body, he hadn't even given the idea a single thought; his own body is mauled up, covered in old and ugly scars, and carrying more than three colors from all his time spent out in the sun. So, he couldn't have cared less about some scars, a little extra hair, weight, or even the discoloration over your thighs. What he did care about, however, was making sure that you felt loved in spite of it all. And now, it feels no different. To have you spread your legs for him like this, without a single worry holding you back, is a goddamn treat.

Fuck how good it feels to have the soft press of his thumb tease over your cunt, tracing the delicate path between your weeping entrance, to your swelling bud with a pressure so teasing and light that you squirm to feel more. Your plush lips tuck between your teeth to hold back any sounds that give away what you two are doing in here after dark, but it's useless; the lewd sounds of his thumb circling over your clit echo throughout the tent: a dead giveaway to anyone that dare walk by. Holding your breath like this isn't easy, not when the pounding of your heart echoes in your ears and your chest feels as if it's being seared from the inside out. A ragged gasp finally inhales through your nostrils, desperately trying to fulfill your body's need for air when you can no longer restrain your breaths.

He huffs out a low chuckle in amusement at the state he has you in: clearly desperate and in need to have your clit rubbed just the way you like it.

"Hmm.. Hear that?" He rasps out before going silent, letting you hear the sounds of your own slick being spread over your soaked cunt. He only continues when he finally reaches your clit, circling over the throbbing little nerve-ending to make you sigh out in pleasure for him. "So goddamn wet. All for me."

In a blur of movements, Arthur's chapped lips and teeth skim over your knee, slowly working their way down over your inner thighs. He nips at you, earning a few little squeaks and giggles until he kisses over your plump mound. His thumbs take hold of either side of your cunt, spreading you open to let the night air hit your wet skin. It's pleasant like this, to feel yourself spread out beneath him like a meal ready to be devoured and dammit if he ain't starved for a taste. Being eaten out has quickly become one of your favorite acts of intimacy in recent weeks; his tongue is so skilled at finding spots on you, making you come so deliciously, that most days it's all you've been able to think about. Hell, it's all you're thinking about now as his head sinks down to your core and his hot breath fans out over your aching need. His tongue slips out of that perfect mouth and flattens out over your seam, lapping at you once to earn him that little sigh of pleasure escaping your throat.

Your hands immediately seek out his head, combing through his slightly sweat-dampened hair as he swirls the blunt tip of his tongue over your clit.

"A-Agh, Arthur.. N-Not so fast," you whine out in protest, yet your hips bucking up into his mouth says otherwise. But he relents, nonetheless, giving you a moment of reprieve before he delves back in at the same pace.

He's aiming to make you cum quick and hard: slithering his tongue over your clit with the precision of knowing exactly what side and spot makes you writhe beneath him. Just left and then a little upward beneath that little hood of skin and he has you singing for him. Explicitves roll off your tongue one after another in between sweet little sounds that praise him for what effort he's putting in just for you. To hear you, feel you crumble beneath him like this is better than any robbery or score he gets out on the road. But just before he lets you come, he pulls his head back slightly and puffs cool air over your clit, making you whine.

"Shh.. Shh.. 'M gonna let ya cum, Darlin'. Don'tchu worry 'bout that none. 'M gonna take real good care of ya," he hums lowly as his lips and bristly scruff brush over your quivering inner thighs.

His promise isn't far off from fulfillment, not when he sinks his tongue into your heat and presses his opened mouth over the entirety of your cunt. He sucks hard, feeling your walls constrict around the wriggling muscle of his tongue as he laps inside your spongey center. Your thighs tremble with need as he fucks you with his mouth and slurps up your slick, drinking in as much of you as he can and relishing the tangy sweetness of your delectable taste. You throw your head back against the rolled-up blanket you had been using as a pillow earlier in the night, all while he eats you out like a man who's desperate to consume you.

But the aching throb of his cock, constricted by the thin fabric of his union suit, is far too angry for him to ignore. He's got to have you, now.

As he shuffles back up to his knees, leaving your cunt longing to cum on his tongue, you flutter your eyes open and snap your head up to try and catch a glimpse of what he's doing. Clearly, you ain't pleased with him teasing you like this, but when you feel his fervent movements, you realize that he's trying to work off his union suit. He wastes no time it peeling it away from his torso, but the moment he starts to tug it down his thighs, allowing his weeping cock to spring free, he nearly topples over and just about slams head-first into your body. Thankfully, he catches himself in the knick of time, grunting out a few curses as he grows impatient with his incapability to slide that damn fabric off his legs.

Amid his struggle to bare himself, you can't hide the giggle creeping up your throat as he curses under his breath, frustrated with how the fabric insists on clinging to his muscular legs. You help him slide the old red union suit off his body by digging your heels against the back of his thighs and pushing it down the long length of his legs until it reaches his ankles. The undergarment hangs loosely off his feet, causing him to kick it haphazardly off the side of the bed, letting it fall onto his trunk to skirt down on the grass below.

The instant his turgid length brushes over your inner thigh it twitches with the anticipation of feeling your tight, wet walls clamped around him, milking every drop of spend nestled away in his balls; spend that he so desperately wishes he could drain right inside of you. For now, however, just a single brush of your fingertips against him is enough. He has to hold his breath as he guides your delicate palm over his velvety shaft to stroke the needy ache away; if he isn't careful, he'd cum just like this. He hisses, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth as your fingers wrap around him and your thumb seeks out the weeping slit of his blunt tip. Arthur is, by no means, a small man: his legs are long, torso strong and wide, feet and hands are like bear paws, and his cock.. God, his cock is big. You could use both of your hands to stroke him and still, there'd be enough room for his tip to be entirely untouched. But you make sure as you stroke him with one hand, you pay extra attention to his tip, smearing his drooling precum over as much of him as you can, even down to the dark and wiry curls along his base and balls.

He's trying so hard to hold himself back, but with each tender pass of your thumb over that sweet spot along the underside of his tip, the last remnants of his patience crack away. You feel him crumbling like this, crumbling into a frenzied mess of low-hummed breaths and grunts through gritted teeth, and you fucking love it. Before you can even think about the desire roaring in the cavernous pit of your stomach, aching to be quelled, he smashes his lips into yours so hard that you're sure one of you is bleeding. The pain of his busted lip splitting back open is an angry reminder of the frustration still lingering at the back of his mind; he's as tensed up, pent-up, as a taut rope ready to snap.

With a quick movement, he swats your hand away, preventing you from jacking him into a fast climax. Then, in one swift motion, he grabs hold of your thighs and forcefully yanks you toward him, making the round swell of your plump ass plant firmly against the hard front of his strong body. Your thighs spread out, squishing over and conforming to the contour of his hips, the intimate contact leaving you both ragged and breathless. Your heart drums a frantic rhythm in your ears, drowning out all other thoughts and sensations that belong to you alone. It's as if your mind has descended into a tangled web of strangled noises and glorious sensations that only Arthur seems able to untangle or soothe. The faint outline of his body nestled between your thighs is a constant reminder that nothing beyond this moment, beyond him hidden away with you inside of this tent, matters.

The hard length of his turgid pride parts your folds, gliding over the slick thatch of curls usually concealing your cunt from his eyes, but with his sight hindered, he can explore every single nook, roll, and crevice without you shying away. His weight bares down on you as he holds your legs into the crook of his arms, nearly bending you in half as he drags his cock over your seam. It feels so good like this, even though you can hardly breathe with the thickness of your thighs pressing against your already plump stomach, but when the tip of his cock knocks into your clit, it makes the strained pain well worth it. The back of your hand flies over your mouth as he continues on like this, pleasuring himself and you with each agonizingly slow thrust. Hearing your ragged, strangled half-breaths, he releases your thighs, leaving them to splay out lazily on either side of his hips as he leans down to steal a tender kiss.

Upon breaking his lips away from yours, the low hum of his voice finds its way through the haziness of your lust-broken mind as he murmurs against the shell of your ear, "Gonna take ya just like this..."

Chapped lips skim over your jawline and trail to your lips, where he gives you another tender kiss filled with gentle affection: polar opposite to the rough sex-driven outlaw you've gotten a taste of tonight, but aligning perfectly with the man you fell in love with all those years ago. Scraped knuckles skim against your slick heat as he slips his hand in between you both and presses flat over the thick, dark curls at the base of his throbbing length. His fingers spread wide over his pubic bone, holding his cock between his middle and ring finger, stiffening himself outward to seek out your clenched entrance. With a slight pullback of his hips, he guides himself to your slit, catching right on the taut muscle before pressing forward and splitting you open.

A soft cry hums in the back of your throat and he shushes you so tenderly, sliding his hands over your knees and down your shins to soothe the ache he knows you're feeling. You're so fucking tight, hardly different from the first night he took you and bedded you properly back at the Saint's Hotel. It nearly shatters him when your walls flutter around him, squeezing and pulling him in inch by inch as if you were carved out just for him to sink into. He stills only for a short moment, letting you feel him nestled up against your cervix before he slides himself out and enters you again with a sharp snap of his hips. Lingering anger and frustration from the shit day he's had still pulsates at the back of his mind, desperate to be released as the tension in his body rises.

The tight walls of your cunt clench onto him for dear life as jolts of pleasure and pain rack through your body.

Behind the shield of your palm, you cry out, "A-Agh, Arthur!"

You're trying your best to be quiet, to still your ragged breaths and hide your whimpers, but he's making it incredibly difficult. Each slow drag of his cock coming out of you with a satisfying pop, only to pierce you with a hard roll of his hips, sends you reeling. You're seeing stars, shaking from the pleasurable burn of the passionate fire he's stirring within you. Strong hands grip your hips, keeping you still as his thrusts guide you into a steady rhythm that makes the old wooden frame creak and groan with every subtle and sharp movement that your bodies make. Being discreet has left his mind entirely, no longer concerned with what sounds are coming out of his tent as he fucks you good and proper. No, he couldn't care less when the sounds of your slick pussy squelches as he presses himself flush against you and groans against the pulse point of your neck.

"Don't want ya hidin' them purdy sounds, Darlin'. Let 'em out for me," he grunts out between slow but hard thrusts.

Usually, intimacy like this is savored in the shaking breaths and whispered little sounds only audible to your ears, but tonight... Tonight Arthur is something else entirely. Primal. A damn, dirty outlaw. You love this new view of him, but you can't allow yourself to let the others hear. What if someone were walking by? Or Hosea or Dutch hear you two going at it? You wouldn't be able to look at them for a week! But he doesn't give you much choice in the matter: snaking his hand down between your bodies, his muscular forearm presses against your plush belly while his thumb immediately finds your clit.

"O-Oh, God," you whine as the pad of his thumb circles over you, followed by his name dripping off your tongue like the sweetest honey. "At's it... Such a good girl takin' me so deep. Mmm.. Gonna cum 'round me ain'tchu? Gonna give me a real good one, baby?"

God damn him if his mouth ain't filthy. The way he croons out those little praises and words of encouragement has your climax building faster than you ever could have anticipated. And the swirling of his thumb? It has you shaking, whining, pleading, practically begging for your release as he talks you through it, "C'mon, Darlin'... I feel ya squeezin' me real tight," he praises, "'At's it. Focus on me."

With one more swipe of his thumb over your sensitive clit and his cock hitting that sweet spot right against your cervix, you're tensing, digging your heels into the thin mattress, and cumming around him so hard that you see white. It takes everything in you not to scream, but the strangled sound coming out of you is loud enough to warrant some head-turning if anyone were awake. The moment your walls flutter and start milking him, he falls forward and drops down onto his elbows to cage you in. His thrusts are relentless as he takes his anger out on you in this way, using every movement of his body to release the bristling anger clutching onto his mind like a damn vice grip. No matter how fervent and frenzied, he's still careful not to hurt you, always thinking about how good he's making you feel while chasing his own release.

Arthur isn't a man of many words, but when you're gripped around him like this, clutching him with your arms, legs, and your fluttering pussy, he is downright mouthy. "Oh, such a good girl for listenin' to me. Shh.. Shh. I gotchu, baby. I gotchu."

His mouth hovers over yours, claiming your lips as he kisses you hard and possessively. Moans spill out of you, traveling through the expanse of his throat until it hums within his chest and he echoes one back. To talk like this with him, in a language only two lovers could understand, is far more intimate and pleasurable than anyone could ever know. Arthur is yours and you are his, no ownership or proprietary claim, but just the pleasant knowledge that both of you choose to love each other is enough.

With a few more rolls of his hips, he's nearing his own orgasm: length twitching and engorging as his balls tighten. In desperation, he quickly climbs off of you and pulls his cock out from your core. His right hand tightens into a fist around himself, and although you can't see it, you hear the lewd, effortless slide of his hand vigorously pumping over his tip like his life depends on cumming for you.

Finally, his orgasm hits him, working its way out of his tightened balls and spurting over your plump mound and belly. If he could see his spend on you like this, it'd be enough to make him cum all over again. But both of you are far too exhausted to even consider that so soon. You're still shaking, panting heavily as he lowers himself down onto you, not caring that his sticky spend is now covering the front of his body as well, as your sweaty bodies come down from such an enormous height.

His touch traces a slow, deliberate path down your leg until his fingertips reach the softness of your hip, where he gives your flesh a gentle but firm grasp. Reveling in the smoothness of your skin and the feel of your curvy form beneath his palm, he lets out a slow exhale through his nose. The heat of his breath spills over your neck and shoulder, doubled by the heavy breaths leaving his lips as he lazily peppers your clammy skin with kisses.

After a long stretch of quiet spent nestled into his hair, breathing in the comforting remnants of campfire intermingled with his musky scent, your breathing finally begins to steady. Slowly, your senses return to you one by one, like pieces of a puzzle falling back into place. Shock and disbelief jolt through your entire being as it finally hits you how easily he manipulated your body with his own strength and skill as a lover. You'd heard of men being rough with women, but never did you think it could be this pleasurable.

Your voice finally cuts through the relative silence, carrying a deep sense of satisfaction and astonishment with it, "Wh-here in the hell did that come from?"

An amused chuckle rumbles inside his chest, slightly huffing out of his nose as he slightly pushes himself off of you to gauge your reaction, "Reckon I were a little pent up. Why? You like it?"

To say you liked it was an understatement, but you'd like anything as long as Arthur were right there with you to experience it just the same. While his right hand slides up over the plump contours of your body, appreciatively grabbing at the plushness of your stomach and breasts, he lovingly brushes a few stray strands of hair off your forehead stuck there by the sweat covering your body. You hum softly in agreement to his question, deciding that you did enjoy this different side of him you hadn't expected, despite his rough exterior.

"Mhmm.. 'S always good with you," the loving words you murmur cling to his heart and earn you a pleasant kiss that tastes like the remnants of his busted lip.

As his lips trail back down over your jawline, his beard delightfully scratches over your sensitive skin, causing you to hum in appreciation for him loving you like a man who worships the very ground you walk upon. Your own body follows his lead, fingertips glide down the entire length of his back, tracing the contour of muscle that hint at the immense strength lurking beneath. You can't help but marvel at his shape, this man you love so dearly, and how his body was molded for love and carved from such a hard life. While your fingertips glide across his muscled frame, you can feel the subtle shift of his body as he adjusts himself on top of you, notricebly more relaxed than before: a clear testamanet to the calming eddect your touch has on him.

Curiosity peaked, you murmur, "You relaxed now?" as your fingertips idly trace the two little dimples that grace the base of his spine, just above the firm and muscular curve of his ass.

An amused smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, obviously enjoying the path your fingertips are carving out over his back. He'd never admit it, but he loves it when you grab him unabashedly, palming his ass like he so often does to you. The warmth of his cock brushing over your leg, hardening much faster than he expected for a man his age, tells you all you need to know.

He agrees with you, humming softly against your chest as he inches himself down to where his mouth hovers over the plump swell of your breasts, "Thinkin' that we just might need a little more time for relaxin', don'tchu?"

A/N: Big thanks for the divider from @saradika-graphics and the beautiful gif from @sunwingsunset, please go send them some love for their work! <3

Other creators that expressed interest and drew inspiration from: @subpopizzy , @cassietrn , @coltermorning , @redwritr, @zae-heeyyy, @twola , @amorgansgal

Please do go check all the blogs I tagged! You surely won't be disappointed!

As always, sending my love - M. <3

[hihomeghere]

Heat | Alpha!Arthur Morgan x Omega!reader

Happy Valentines day! <3

Word Count : 3.5k

Summary : Nursing Arthur's rejection, you go to the saloon while your impending heat hangs over you. Will he be able to save you before another alpha tries to stake their claim?

Warnings/tags : A/b/o, knotting, marking/biting, slight angst, reader is referred to as she, has female parts, arthur is our miscommunication king, unwanted advances from another man, dubious consent (reader has expressed consent earlier but is not in the right state of mind), Ruts & heats, unprotected piv, creampie, slight breeding king (It's me, what do you expect)

Divider by @saradika

Tags : @photo1030

The lively piano filled the saloon, doing little to raise your spirits. Resting your palms against your cold glass, trying to ease the fire that burned in your belly. You were foolish, you knew that, coming into town this close to your heat. 

But the flush in your cheeks wasn’t entirely from your impending heat. No, the burning coil of rejection was what was causing blood to crawl up your neck and flood your cheeks. 

You sipped the whiskey, wincing as the liquid burned your throat. You thought it would ease the pain in your chest, but it only seemed to amplify the hurt. The painful memory of your fight with Arthur replaying over and over in your head. His jaw clenched, refusing to even look you in the eye. His voice raised as he snapped at you.

You shook your head, quickly downing your glass. Shivering as the liquid ran down your throat, heat blooming in your chest. You couldn’t ignore the subtle clench in your lower belly for much longer. The second tell tale sign that your heat was fast approaching. Like sand pouring into an hourglass, the time for you to find a place to ride out your heat was dwindling. 

Sweat dotted your brow, raising the back of your hand to wipe it away. The fabric of your dress was rubbing your skin raw, you itched to ditch the fabric. Although you weren't stupid enough to strip in a bar full of all kinds of designations. You ordered another, placing two coins down on the bar top.

The scent of an alpha invaded your nostrils, nearly suffocating you with how strong it was. You silently cursed yourself, you hadn’t bothered to cover how your distress was pouring off of you in waves. Anyone could have smelt it, omega, beta or alpha. Unfortunately for you it was the latter.

“Hello sweetheart.” The man cooed, his lips pulling back in a wolfish grin as he took the seat next to you. His suit jacket cut tight to his body, obviously tailored. Younger than you, his pocket watch hung from a golden chain, an easy target if you were here to do ‘business’ as Hosea called it. Robbing rich men blind.

You ignored him, a bead of sweat rolling down your back. 

“Omega.” Unable to stop the pull of your designation, you turned to look up at him. You realized too late that you were in the worst situation possible. Half an hour max, away from your heat, and this fucker looks like he knows it. “Why don’t you say hello, hm?” He asked, his tone dripping with command. 

You opened your mouth to respond when the familiar scent of pine and leather filled your noise. Wrapping around you like a warm embrace. 

Arthur, alpha. You didn’t have time to speak before his hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you off the chair and behind him. You could feel the anger pouring off of him in waves, your omega pumping out calming pheromones at his distress.

His chest heaved as he glared at the other alpha, fire burning in his eyes. 

“She don’t have to say shit to you.” He growled, “Now why don’t you run along, pup.” A fresh wave of slick dampened your thighs at his possessive words, your inner omega preening. You knew the two alphas could smell it, each of them stiffening respectively. The man’s lip twitched, as if debating whether or not to stake his claim. Although you doubted the man in front of you had a death wish. Arthur stood tall, trim waist and broad shoulders. A perfect alpha in every way. The man mumbled something along the lines of ‘not worth it’ before walking off. As the younger alpha retreated off to lick his wounds, Arthur’s hand wrapped around your wrist. In a flash he was dragging you out of the saloon, the night air doing very little to cool your feverish flesh. His touch was searing against your skin, branding you like a hot iron. 

He didn’t speak, his spurs clinking as he stomped across the dirt road. Pulling the lead off the hitching post.

“The hell were you thinkin’?” He growled, dropping your wrist, “You know how damn close your heat is and you go and pull this shit! Any of those bastards could’ve-“ He cut himself off with a frustrated growl, his hands on his hips as he faced away from you. “You’re lucky my scent is still on ya, only a young pup like him would've tried it.” 

Your lower lip wobbled as you stared at his back, tears pricking your eyes.

“Why’d you come after me?” You asked, wrapping your arms around your body. That caused him to pause, the hard line of his body tensing at your question. Your legs were starting to wobble, your breaths quickening.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked with a huff, turning to face you. You tilted your chin up, using the remaining bit of your strength to face him head on.

“You ain’t my alpha.” You said, tears stinging your eyes as you looked up at him. “You made that clear.”

-

He had been helping you ride out every one of your heats for the last few months. You were sweet on each other, the whole gang knew it, hell the whole world knew it. 

The way your eyes seemed to follow him wherever he went, drawn to him by some magnetic force.

Most would blame your designation. An unmated omega is going to naturally be drawn to any alpha, it’s in your nature. But you weren’t that kind of girl. Never had been. 

Sure, those few days every month when your skin turned feverish and debilitating cramps overtook you, you could do little but beg for an alpha to knot you. That’s why you were careful, leaving camp for a few days to hide away in an empty cabin, to ride out your heat.

When your biology took over, you couldn’t trust yourself. Your omega begging for any alpha, no matter who they were, to mate and knot you. Even the toughest omegas turned to putty around their heat. And ending up mated to an alpha who couldn’t control marking you, was oftentimes a fate worse than death. Breaking a bond, even an accidental one, could sometimes lead to death. That was in the case the Allha agreed to breaking the bond. Far too many omegas had been trapped in abusive bonds for your liking, and you wouldn’t be one of them.

Your fingers were a sorry excuse for a knot, hardly giving you any relief. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, and there hadn’t been any alpha you trusted to take care of you. To not take advantage of your clouded judgement. That was until Arthur.

You had been running with the gang for quite a while, maybe a year or two. You would be lying if you said Arthur’s personality had first drawn you to him. He was an alpha in every sense of the word. Strong, loyal, caring, fierce. And he smelt so damn good, his scent covered damn near everything in camp. Pine and leather dusted against the hay bales, near Pearson's wagon, and absolutely covered his makeshift tent. 

You would catch yourself breathing in deeply whenever you walked past him, or his tent. Unable to stop the deep pull in your gut. 

But you never thought he’d look your way, never thought he’d see you. See you as more than an omega.

But he surprised you, treating you as more than just your designation. That had been what made you fall in love with him. To your delight, he had felt the same way. One thing had led to another, and he had offered to work you through your heats. How could you refuse? 

So when you walked over to his tent, your skin red and flushed, you thought he would jump to get you somewhere secluded. 

“Arthur.” You said softly, your heart faltering as he refused to look up at you. His eyes trained on the open page of his journal. “Arthur.” You repeated a little louder this time. His scent was nearly overpowering, settling over you like a heavy blanket. Pine, leather, tobacco, gunpowder.

“What?” He huffed, not raising his gaze. His jaw set as he shielded his eyes with the brim of his hat. 

“Well I…” You faltered, feeling yourself shrink in front of him. Trying to make yourself look smaller to appease him. “My… my heat is coming.” You watched as he took a deep breath, his chest expanding, before he exhaled shakily. No doubt smelling the slick spreading between your thighs. It was like time paused, both of you hung suspended as you waited for him to react.

“Don’t know why you’re talking to me about it.” He mumbled, scribbling in his book. You swallowed thickly, your brows furrowed as you took a step closer. 

“Well we-“ You spoke softly, tilting your head.

“There ain’t a we, don’t you get it woman?” He snapped, shaking his head. “I ain’t your damn alpha, it ain’t my job to help you through your heats.” His blatant rejection was like a slap to the face, your feet moving backwards as you stumbled. 

“What?” You asked, hoping, praying, that you had heard him wrong. 

“There ain’t nothing to discuss. Now I suggest you find somewhere to ride out your heat.” His words hardly a suggestion as his alpha command seeped into his words. You were helpless to do anything but obey him, turning on your heel as tears clouded your vision. 

-

“Damn it woman.” He sighed, the leather leads creaking in his hands as he clenched his fists. “That don’t mean I don’t care for you.” His words were tight, spoken through clenched teeth.

“I don’t need you Arthur.” You whimpered, hot tears rolling down your cheeks. “If I want to find someone to knot me through my heat, I’ll do just that.”

“Like hell you will!” He growled, snarling as he turned to face you. Your eyes widened as he met your gaze, red lined his eyes, the sigh of an incoming rut. A pitiful whimper left your lips, watching as his chest heaved with each labored breath. 

“You’re going into a rut.” You whispered, staring up at him as you clenched around nothing. He looked away, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed harshly. 

“You think I don’t wanna help you through your heat? You think I want you to be in pain?” He asked, shaking his head as he looked down at the dirt road. “But I can’t- I can’t promise it- it won’t take over.” It being the alpha inside him. A shiver ran down your spine despite the intense heat that burned you from the inside out.

An alpha in rut and an omega in heat was a recipe for disaster. Well, an unmated omega in heat. Bonded pairs often went into ruts and heats together, one being triggered by the other. But most omegas didn’t come out unmarked if their alpha was in a rut. Not to mention, it was the best time to breed.

“What if- what if I don’t want you to fight it.” You said breathlessly, your lids feeling heavy.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.” He sighed, shaking his head.

“I do!” You urged, stumbling forward. “What if my heat triggered your rut. What if-“

“Don’t say another word.” His scent was only getting stronger, and you had no doubt yours was the same. The gland on the side of his neck was red and glistening. 

“What if you’re meant to be my mate.”

“It’s your heat talking.” He snapped, turning to look at you. “If you were thinking clearly you wouldn’t- you wouldn’t want this. Wouldn’t want me.” His tone is harsh, covering up his obvious self deprecation. Wouldn’t want him? Wouldn’t want Arthur?

You scoffed, shaking your head. “I’ve always wanted you.” You confessed, laying your hand on his arm. As your skin connected, your stomach clenched, your legs giving out from under you as Arthur’s hands grasped your waist.

“Let’s get you inside.” He breathed, his chest heaving as he pulled you along to the nearest hotel. Your mind was going fuzzy, his scent too overpowering as he led you into a room. “Make your nest.” He said, his tone gentle as he leaned against the door. You ripped at your clothes, tearing them off of your body as you began to build your nest. Tearing the bed apart as you laid the blankets out to your liking, adding your own dress and underclothes. For the first time all day you felt some sort of relief.

But you were missing something, missing Arthur. 

“Alpha.” You whined, sweat dripping down your body as the fever started to overtake you. The ache in your core growing as you rubbed at your clit. He stiffened, his fists clenched at his sides. “Please Arthur.” You cried, slipping a finger inside your dripping cunt, “Alpha please.” You arched your back, pushing your breasts up as you tried to entice him.

“It ain’t right.” He said through gritted teeth, shaking his head, “I can’t-“

“I want your knot, I want your mark.” You cried, adding another finger to your heat. Pumping them in and out as you writhed on the bed. It wasn’t enough. Your entire body was ablaze, and the only remedy was his knot. 

“You’re not thinking clearly.” He repeated, his boots scuffing against the floor as he fought against his primal instincts. 

“Oh fuck me Arthur!” You cried out, throwing your head back as your first orgasm washed over you. It soothed the ache, but only for a moment before the next cramp ripped through your body. 

His expression was pained, his brows drawn tight as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Darlin I-“ He shook his head, his resolve crumbling, “You know I want you so bad.”

“Then take me, please.” You whimpered, spreading your legs, his red rimmed eyes immediately drawn to your wet cunt. 

“Christ almighty.” He whispered, dropping to his knees as he crawled towards the bed. Pulling off his clothes as he drew closer. He laid his hand on the edge of the bed, his eyes finding yours.

“Come here.” You pleaded, giving him permission to enter your nest. He climbed onto the bed, a deep growl rumbling in his chest as he quickly slotted himself between your legs. His hands gripped your thighs, his thumbs pressing into the swollen glands there. Slick mixing with your pheromones as you writhed under him. “Alpha!”

“Shhh,” He shushed you, “I’m gonna take care of you ‘mega, you know I always do.” He ripped off his shirt, sending the buttons flying across the room. You grabbed the blue fabric before he could discard it, tucking it into your nest. 

“Want you- want your knot- need your knot.” You babbled, reaching for him as he shucked off his pants. His cock bobbed up against his belly. Thick and weeping, as he settled between your legs. He lowered his head, running his nose against the gland on your neck as he scented you. 

“Fuck me darlin’-“ He groaned, white knuckling the fabric as he fought the urge to knot you right then and there, “Smell so damn good- always so goddamn good.” He dipped his hips, the mushroom head of his cock bumping against your clit. A cry ripped through your chest as you raised your hips, chasing after him. “Easy, easy sweetheart.”

“I can’t-“ You cried, tears springing to your eyes, “I need you, need you to knot me! Mark me!”

He thrust into you with a growl, filling you completely. Even with your slick it’s still a pinch, your mouth opens in a silent cry as you clenched down around him. Too sensitive and on edge to stave off your orgasm. Not that you would want to.  He doesn’t wait, pulling out to slam back into you. His cock rubbing up against your walls in a way that has your toes curling.

With each thrust he pushes you higher up on the bed, the headboard thudding against the wall. If the other customers at the inn couldn’t tell what was happening by the stifling scent of pheromones and moans, the slam of the wood against the wall was a dead giveaway.

“So tight- how the hell are you still this tight?” He gasped, clenching his jaw so tight his teeth ached. Fighting the urge to bite down on your swollen gland. His tongue darted out, tasting the sweet skin of your neck. You jolted, clenching down on him as a gasp left your lips. Your nails raked down his back, locking your legs over his hips.

“Y/n… omega…” His breath fanned against your neck as he panted against you. The sound of skin slapping against skin filling the hotel room. 

“I want it-“ You whimpered, baring your neck as you pulled him closer. You knew what he was thinking, a pained groan rumbling through his chest. “We’re meant to be.”

If he marked you, you’d be branded not only with his mark but his scent. Anyone would be able to smell him on you, know that you were his mate. While that wasn’t a problem for law abiding citizens, Arthur had too many enemies. With a bounty on his head that size, not to mention O’Driscolls and Pinkertons on his tail. You’d be an easy target, something to be used against him. 

But goddamn it, he wanted you to be his. You were in every sense of the word, but still unmarked. Which meant any alpha or beta out there could still have you. 

Your hand reached up, cupping his cheek as you made him face him. Your eyes hazy, lined with omega silver as his hips pistoned in and out of you. Wincing slightly as the bulb of his knot began to swell. Catching around the ring of your cunt with every thrust. 

“Mark me. Make me yours.” You pleaded, your voice shaking as you clung to him. 

Arthur considered himself a strong willed man, with a good head on his shoulders. But at the end of the day he was only a man.

“I’ll take good care of you, omega.” He promised, sinking his teeth into your gland before he could change his mind. As his teeth pierced your neck, a mix of pleasure and pain washed over you. He growled against your skin, pushing deep inside you with a final thrust as his knot slipped within your pussy, locking the two of you together. Another orgasm washed over you as he began to fill you with his cum. The cramps in your belly almost nonexistent as you breathed out a content sigh. His jaw loosened, pulling away from your neck. His tongue lapped at the torn skin, cleaning you up as you laid boneless under him. 

His knot was still pulsing, pumping load after load inside you. Maybe this time it would take. That thought sent a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“C’mon darlin’.” He cooed softly, gently moving your legs off his hips. He tilted your body so you were on your side with him behind you. Both of you moaning as his knot tugged at your walls from the movement. “That’s better.” He whispered against the shell of your ear, his arms wrapped tight around your waist. His hand spread across your belly, warming your skin.

You could sense his fear, the insecurities lying deep within him. Your bond now set in stone, his feelings, his scent, all that stronger. 

“It wasn’t my heat talking.” You promised, his arm tightening around your waist.

“You’re still in heat.” He mumbled against your skin, running his nose up and down your neck as though he couldn’t help himself. 

“I’m clear enough to know that.” You said, turning your head to look back at him. “I’ve wanted you to mark me ever since you started helping me.” 

“I believe you.” He whispered, a myriad of emotions shining in his eyes. “I just- don’t know why you’d want to be tied to an old outlaw like me.” His gaze lowered, an almost shameful expression crossing his face.

“I don’t care what you’ve done Arthur.” You said softly, his thumb rubbing small circles against your skin.

“You should.” He mumbled, “If you were in your right mind you’d run as far away from me as possible-“

“I don’t care because I see you.” You said cutting him off, “Past the bullshit, past the persona you have to play, past even the alpha.” You placed your hand over his, lacing your fingers together. “I see you Arthur.” 

He pulled his hand away, your heart sinking. But before you could dwell on it, his hand tilted your jaw. Turning your head to look at him as he covered your lips with his. You eagerly returned the kiss, parting your lips as his tongue darted out to taste you. The metallic taste of your blood still heavy in his mouth.

“Don’t know how I got so lucky.” He mumbled breathlessly as he pulled away, “But I swear to you, I won’t let nothin’ hurt you. Even me.”

“I know you won’t.” You said, pressing your lips against his.

[morganismss]

loving in silence

Title Inspiration: Song, “we’ve been loving in silence” by MARO Pairings: Arthur Morgan x Reader Summary: “You and Arthur seek shelter in an abandoned cottage from a raging storm.” Content Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, smut, soft smut, fluff, fluff to smut back to fluff Other Tags: one shot, pwp, song fic, vague description of reader's physical appearance, female reader, slightly dominant reader, slightly submissive arthur, no use of "y/n", established relationship, high honor arthur Locations: Deer Cottage - Roanoke Ridge WC: 6.2k AO3 Link a/n: hii it's been a while! i worked wayy too hard and wayy too long on this but we got snowed in and i finally sat down and decided enough was enough. this is my first bit of writing in a several years so i am very rusty and i am the only person to proof read so please expect grammatical errors. i apologize if it's too wordy or too long! feedback is greatly appreciated though! i really hope you enjoy ♡

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The air was thick and heavy, sweet with the smell of dampened grass. Dark ominous clouds loomed out in the distance across the tree line in mountains of varying shades of grey. Distant cracks of light ripped through the sky followed closely by low rumbling, and threatening winds whistled through the tree branches blowing leaves all around you as you rode. 

It had been days since you left camp with Arthur for an adventure. Now, you two found yourselves in the hills of Roanoke Ridge about to get caught up in a storm.

You looked up to the sky above you and noticed the blue fading into green, darkening as the storm grew closer. The horses snorted in protest as you both pushed against the winds urging them forward. Fat droplets of rain started to fall one by one, tapping against the leather of your hat and fading into the hair of your horse. You looked forward to Arthur who was riding a few feet ahead of you on his own horse. 

Neither of you were expecting to be gone this long, and this storm was going to delay your journey back to camp by at least another day. He turned to look back at you, opening his mouth as if about to say something when suddenly the downpour came. 

The rain came fast and heavy, creating a thick veil you could barely see past. You shielded your face with your arm trying to stop the assault on your skin, your other hand held the reins and your coat tight to your body. “Up ahead!” You barely heard Arthur's voice shout back to you over another crack of thunder. You glanced upward past your arm trying to see through the curtain of rain and noticed a faint outline of a building off to the left side of the trail. Arthur spurred his horse forward with a faint “Hyah!” causing you to do the same and follow suit. Though difficult to see, you could just barely make out the details. It was a small log cottage with painted blue shutters, there was a covered well next to an outhouse, and a garden by the front door. It seemed vacant; no horses were hitched to the outside post and there was no stirring happening on the inside. It looked homely enough, but most importantly, it looked dry. The horses approached the cabin at a steady trot, their hooves squished into the mud as they reached the hitching posts. You swung your leg over the saddle and dismounted with a splash as your boots connected with the wet ground. The wind continued to rip through you as you struggled to keep your hat on your head and your coat from blowing open. 

Arthur clung to his own hat and ushered you along with him, his arm wrapped around your shoulders keeping you close to him as if afraid you would blow away with the winds. You couldn’t help but lean into him and his warmth, not complaining about how tight he was holding you. You two reached the door and Arthur knocked firmly. “Hello!” He shouted. “Anyone home?” The seconds passed by with no reply. Arthur muttered a curse under his breath. 

“I’m not standin’ out here all night.” His grip around you loosened as he took a step closer to the door. He took the handle in his hand and turned it open. A gust of wind pushed past you both and ripped through the threshold, snatching the door handle out of his grip and causing it to fling wide open with a loud creak. Arthur quickly drew his gun and turned to you. “Wait here.” He ordered. You nodded, your hand now hovered over the gun in your holster as he took a step inside, his revolver leading the way. 

Arthur turned quickly around the corners of the door frame, checking to see if anyone was there. You watched as he disappeared around the corner of the door and out of sight further into the cottage.

You stood there outside clutching your coat closed, quickly becoming drenched while waiting for his all clear. You glanced around you and looked back into the tree line and up the path from where you two had rode down from, not a single sign of life around. The winds continued to rip through the trees, snapping off clumps of twigs and leaves from their branches. 

“Anything?” You turned back and shouted impatiently into the cottage, not wanting to be stuck in this storm any longer. 

A few seconds passed without an answer and for a brief moment you held your breath, worried. Your hand wrapped around the handle of your gun and slowly lifted it from its holster. Suddenly, Arthur came back into your sight as he rounded the corner of the door, startling you. “Doesn’t look like anyone's home, c’mon.” He gestured for you to follow him inside and held his hand out for you to take. 

You let out your anxious breath and released your grip on your gun, reaching to take his hand instead. His fingers wrapped around yours as he gently pulled you inside, guiding you through the threshold and out of the rain. 

Upon first glance, the cottage was cozy and pleasant, an instant improvement from the usual filth and abandonment you had encountered in your previous travels. The door shut behind you and you breathed a sigh of relief to be out of the rain, reaching to take off your hat. Arthur chuckled at your sigh as he walked towards the kitchen, taking his coat and hat off and setting them down on the wooden table. You shrugged your wet coat off your shoulders and set it on the back of the chair that was positioned next to the fireplace to dry. 

The place was well furnished; wooden trim painted the same blue as the outside shutters, cabinets and shelves filled with books and trinkets, a stone fireplace built right into the wall adorned with trophy antlers and a golden mantle clock softly ticking away. The bed, positioned right beside the fireplace, was old and worn with faded bedding. The kitchen was well kept with clean dishes hanging up on the walls above the counter tops and decorative plates lined up along the shelves. Everything still looked lived in, like it hadn’t been neglected for long. Hopefully the homeowner wouldn’t mind if you and Arthur took shelter here for just the night. Arthur walked across the room, spurs clinking and wood creaking with each step he took. He knelt down in front of the hearth and prodded at the partially charred logs. He reached into his satchel and pulled out a box of matches, striking one before tossing it in. The fire slowly sparked to life as the flames clung to the logs, illuminating the room in an orange glow. Your body instantly relaxed as you felt the room begin to warm. “You think anyone's comin’ back?” You asked, concerned about the two of you trespassing. He stood up with a grunt and turned to you. “I don’t know, maybe,” his tone was low and his voice gravelly, “bread’s stale and food’s starting to rot. Been sittin’ out a few days at least.” He rubbed at his jaw, scratching at his grown in stubble. 

You turned and looked at the kitchen table Arthur had just placed his belongings on, noticing the half eaten and neglected food. You walked over to inspect the mess and wondered about the stranger who lived here, questioning what might have happened to them and if they were coming back. 

“We shouldn't stay long,” you say, “let's eat, get our strength back, and head back to camp.” 

At that moment, another clap of thunder cracked loudly through the valley as the rain and wind continued to slam against the wooden structure.

“I don't think headin’ back out in this rain is wise darlin’.” He hesitated, his heavy steps creaking the floorboards as he walked up beside you.

The way the pet name sounded against his lips made your heart skip a beat, but it wasn’t enough to mask your concern. “We’ve already been gone longer than we said we would. The gang’s gonna worry.” 

“We’ll leave as soon as the storm breaks,” Arthur walked to the kitchen window and peaked past the tattered curtains, “suns goin’ down too, we don't wanna get stuck out in the rain and the dark. It's too dangerous.” 

You frowned but didn’t protest, realizing your oversight. You knew it would be too dangerous, especially in these hills. The storm alone would make your path home much more treacherous, and between wandering the woods in the pitch black darkness and being surrounded by Murfree Broods, it would have been a death sentence to leave now. 

Arthur noticed the look on your face. “Hey,” the calm tone of his voice drew your eyes to his, “they’ll understand, ‘specially Hosea. We’ll get back tomorrow, it’ll be okay.”

“And if whoever lives here comes back and shoots us for trespassing?” You quipped.

“For their sake,” he paused, a smirk tugging at his lips, “they better be a faster draw.” 

You rolled your eyes and turned away from him and back to the kitchen table. You grabbed your satchel and rummaged through it, pulling out two cans of food and a wrapped loaf of bread.

“We still need to eat.” You sassed, holding a can out to him.

“Looks like someone’s already started without us.” He joked, pointing his thumb over to the neglected food before taking the can from you. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his joke. 

Arthur pulled his knife from his side and stabbed it into the top of the can. He peeled back the aluminum top and brought the can to his lips, slurping down its contents. You both hadn't eaten all day and you felt your stomach grumble at the sight of food.

“I bet this wasn't the kinda adventure you were expecting.” He spoke, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. You pulled out your own knife and cut off a corner of your bread loaf, bringing it up to your lips and taking a bite.

“I think I’d still prefer this to being shot at.” You chewed, cutting off another corner of bread and handing it to him. Arthur chuckled as he took the piece. 

“Yes, the rain is more preferable than being shot at,” you both were quiet for a few moments as you chewed on your food, “but this was a nice change of scenery for you, right?” Arthur's voice faltered as he started to grow self conscious about this trip he had taken you on. 

Arthur had decided to take you up into the mountains for a few days to teach you how to hunt and to look at the beauty of the mountain side. Thinking back, it was a bit strange how you were able to be out and away from camp like this. You rarely ever got to go on adventures, outside of running from lawmen and bounty hunters. For you, it was all chores, reading, and more chores and if you were being honest, you were starting to get sick of it. 

You longed to be a part of the action, even Karen got to help with heists every now and then, but not you. If you couldn’t help out on a job, you at least wanted to see more of the world. Arthur had all but gotten down on both knees and begged Dutch to let you come with him, talking about your “expertise in flower picking” or something of that nature, anything just to get you out of that camp for a little while. If it wasn't for Arthur, you would be back at camp right now probably doing laundry with the girls or helping Pearson with the stew.

“It’s better than dealin’ with Uncle’s drunken ramblings or gettin’ yelled at by Miss Grimshaw.” You joked as you ate the contents of your can.

Arthur didn't respond and you noticed the slightly unamused look on his face, realizing he wasn't joking. You swallowed and reached out to grab his hand, the touch bringing him some comfort. 

“Arthur, I've had more fun these last few days than I’ve had in a long time. Thank you for this. I mean it.” You told him earnestly. His eyes met yours as you gave him a smile and he smiled back.

“I think I’d rather be soaking wet in some stranger's home than dealin’ with Uncle too.” He joked and you laughed.

The storm had darkened more now as the sun fully set behind the clouds. You grabbed the neglected plate from the table along with both of the empty cans and placed everything in the kitchen sink. If anyone was going to come back, the least you two could do was not leave the place messy; you were outlaws, not pigs. 

You heard Arthurs heavy steps slowly come up from behind you followed by two warm hands sneaking their way onto your hips. His touch was comforting and you felt the butterflies erupt in your chest. He ducked his head down into your neck, placing his lips against your skin leaving gentle kisses along your shoulder. You tilted your head to allow him more access and closed your eyes with a contented smile. 

“Been waitin’ for this,” he hummed, lips and stubble brushing lightly against your warm skin, “wantin’ to be alone with you.” The vibration of his voice against your skin sent shivers across your body. 

“Arthur, you’ve been alone with me for days now.” You sighed, leaning back into him and feeling his chest rise and fall against your back. 

“Hmm, not like this.” His thumbs rubbed circles on your hips against the fabric of your clothes.

You two didn’t get to show your affection for each other much while in camp or around the others. Occasionally you both might steal a glance from each other while doing chores or you might catch one of Arthur’s longing stares when he got back from working a job; maybe even trade some secret smiles when he was alone in his cot or get to gently touch his hand for a brief moment in passing. 

All efforts made by you two for intimacy were quiet and discreet, like trading secrets only you two knew about. You both rarely got a moment alone together, but standing here in this space with him like this made the rest of the world around you disappear. The running, the bullets, the bloodshed, none of it mattered in this moment with each other. If you were going to be stuck here with each other, then you both were going to savor every second you could.

You turned around in his arms and leaned into him, his arms now wrapped fully around your waist keeping you as close to him as possible. Arthur ducked his head down to rest his forehead against yours. 

Thunder rumbled softly somewhere out in the distance and the rain continued to patter against the cottage as you both held onto each other, gently swaying to the ambiance. You wondered when was the last time you got a moment like this with him.

“Did you miss me?” You teased him already knowing his answer.

“Oh I missed ya alright.” He grinned and lifted his head back to look at you. 

You peered up at him through your lashes, the look in his eyes all too familiar to you. It was a look you only got to catch from him every so often, a look full of all the love and desire he had in him. He looked at you like you were a sky full of stars, and to him that’s what you were; dazzling and enough to shine through his darkest nights. The way he was with you in moments like these were a stark contrast to how the rest of the world viewed him, the way the gang viewed him. He was tender and gentle when he needed to be; when he wanted to be, with you. 

…

Arthurs head started to lean down to yours and your heart started to race. You met him halfway as his lips connected with yours like they were a missing piece to your puzzle, slotting against each other in smooth and slow motions. He was savoring the moment, the taste of you, he didn’t want to let it go. 

He couldn’t resist you no matter how hard he tried. Being near you back at camp but not being able to touch you was torture to him, and it was torture for you too. All those glances and brushes of your fingertips left you wanting more of him. 

It was a desire so strong that even now you couldn’t help your fingers from making their way from around the back of his neck to the collar of his shirt. You took the buttons between your fingertips and undid them one by one until his dress shirt was completely opened. Your hands lifted the hem over his shoulders as he helped to shrug the fabric off, discarding it to the floor and leaving his chest bare. 

Arthurs hands made their way to the buttons of your blouse, unbuttoning each one and slowly revealing your chemise underneath. Your lips separated for a brief moment leaving you breathless as one of his hands reached up to softly palm your breast, his thumb brushing across your nipple. 

The touch caused a soft moan to pass your lips that you couldn’t hold back. His lips feverishly connected back to yours as the sound you had let slip sent him over the edge, your tongues slipping between each other's lips leaving hungry kisses in their wakes. 

You felt as his hands continued to feel over your body, slipping underneath the fabric of your blouse and onto your back pulling you impossibly closer to his body. It all felt too good to stop, but you wanted to try something.

Your palms pressed against his bare chest, pushing him gently away from you. Your lips separated again and Arthur looked down at you with a concerned yet questioning look.

“Go wait on the bed.” You blushed at your sudden confidence. Arthur blinked at you for a moment trying to register what you had said and then looked at you pleasantly surprised, a wide grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Yes ma’am.” He flirted, nodding his head to you. You smirked back at him as he walked over to the old bed. He sat down on the edge and started to take off his boots, his eyes still glued to you not wanting to miss a single moment.

You continued to smile at him trying to hide your nerves as you kicked off your own boots. Your hands slipped the opened blouse off of your shoulders letting it drop to the floor near his shirt. Your fingers made their way to your waistline as you unfastened your ribbon belt, and your thumbs slipped under the waistline of your skirt as you tugged it past your hips. All of your garments fell to the ground in cascades of fabric leaving you to stand there in front of Arthur in only your chemise and nothing else.

He sat there on the edge of that bed, taking in the very sight of you, completely at a loss for words. His heart quickened along with his breathing and you could tell he was flustered. He wouldn’t admit it but he was a little nervous too. His face was flushed a deep red and his gaze softened, hungry eyes wandering up and down your body until finally meeting your own. 

The only thing he could muster in that moment was a soft, "C'mere." It was sensual yet wanting; it sounded like he was begging for you to come to him. 

You smirked slyly at him as your hands rose to your body. You slowly started to sway your hips from side to side, taking the sheer fabric of your chemise in your fingers and teasingly pulling the hem up ever-so-slightly over your thighs, teasing him with only a glimpse of skin. The wood floors creaked softly beneath your feet with each shift of your weight. 

You took a step towards him and your hands started to wander your body, gently feeling over your waist and up your chest. You took another achingly slow step towards him, and then another, keeping up with the same swaying movements. Arthur let out a frustrated and breathy chuckle knowing full well what you were doing, and he'd be damned if it wasn't working. 

You continued to move your hips side to side, slowly taking more steps closer to him until you finally stood there in between his legs. His hands connected with your body, finding their way to the space just above your hips. His fingers felt warm through the fabric as he gently gripped you, holding you close to him. He leaned forward and placed his lips against you leaving soft kisses across your abdomen, his warm lips separated only by the thin fabric.

You picked up your leg and placed your foot on the edge of the bed beside him, the inside of your thigh now brushed up against his ribs. His hand traveled its way along the curve of your hip, feeling along the outside of your thigh until reaching under your shift. His hand then felt its way back up the bare skin of your thighs. The warmth alone made you weaker to his touch.

“Shifts still damp,” he mused, his other hand feeling the fabric between his fingertips, “should probably take this off too.” Arthur shifted his eyes up to yours, giving you a soft look as if they were asking for permission. Your lips parted and you let out a soft breath, nodding your head slightly. His hands dropped the fabric and the grip on your thigh and made their way up your body, warm skin separated by cool fabric. His hands felt over every inch of your outline before finding the exposed skin at your collar. Two fingers slipped under the fabric and slowly glided the sleeves of your shift over your shoulders. The neckline of your chemise softly tugged down over your chest exposing you completely. Arthur continued, tugging the shift down your waist and past your hips, letting it fall to the ground in waves of white.

Thunder rumbled out through the trees again as the rain softly pattered against the windows. A subtle symphony to accompany this tender moment between your bare body and him. Arthur looked up at you once again, admiring the sight of you before him. Your hands found their way into his hair, fingers raking through his golden brown locks.

“You’re so beautiful.” He cooed, lips finding their way back to your body in praise. Your body was an altar he could worship at for the rest of his life, finding his salvation in your touch alone.

Without a word, you dropped one knee down onto the bed, and then the other, now straddling his thighs. His eyes never looked away from you once. He was being patient now, admiring every move you made and savoring every touch of your skin, but every second left him needing more of you. 

In a smooth motion, he softly took your face into both of his hands and brought you closer. Your eyes fluttered closed as his lips met yours again in more feverish kisses. His hands fell to either side of your bare waist as yours tugged at his hair. A groan passed his lips and against yours causing you to smirk into the kiss. 

You felt yourself growing hot and desperate for more, absolutely drunk on him. Your hands made their way down to his belt buckle undoing the clamp from the leather and then fumbling with the buttons underneath. You tugged suggestively at the open flaps of his pants. Arthur got the hint and hurriedly helped you get them off him, letting them fall onto the ground beneath you with a soft thud. There was nothing to separate you two now. 

Arthurs hands grasped onto your hips again as you climbed back on top of him and you felt his hard erection pressed against you. Your arms wrapped around his neck as your lips connected with his again. Your tongues shamelessly found their ways back to each other, slipping in between each kiss and gasp for air. Your body rocked against his as his hands felt all over you.

One of your hands dropped down and firmly grabbed hold of his member, the touch and warmth causing him to buck his hips slightly and groan again. You lightly tugged, stroking your hand up and down with pressure. You felt him pulse under your touch as he hardened more than before. He was achingly hard, and it was taking everything in him to not grab you and toss you onto the bed and selfishly have his way with you. 

Arthur's hand left your hip and dipped down between the two of you. You felt as his finger lightly traced the skin along your hip bone and down into your inner thigh, his fingers slipping right into your folds. You gasped at his warm presence as your hips rolled in response.

“Looks like someone’s ready for me.” He teased with a smirk, referring to how wet you had gotten. His finger slipped from your entrance up to your clit, swirling around the bulb, and you found yourself not being able to respond in words but in cursed moans instead. The sensation made your legs shudder as you closed your eyes and leaned your forehead against his. Your hips rocked forward with each swirl and you found yourself struggling to focus on your hand that was stroking him.

“Shit.” You breathed as Arthur continued his finger movements. You felt yourself getting closer, but as much as you would have loved to finish right there on his fingers, you wanted him. 

You moved his hand away before you could get any further and straightened up as you positioned his tip against your entrance. You looked up at him again searching for any sign of hesitation to stop. His eyes met yours and he nodded giving you the go ahead. You swirled his tip around your entrance before slowly settling down onto him, making sure to give yourself time to adjust to his size. 

You closed your eyes and let out a soft breath, your arms returning to wrap around his neck as you leaned your forehead against his once more. You slowly settled all the way down to his base, taking all of him in. You started to move yourself up and down, feeling him fill every inch of you. Arthur secured his arms around you as you moved, biting his bottom lip in concentration as he slowly thrust his hips up to meet you with each bounce. 

“Arthur.” You gasped as the softest of moan passed your lips. He loved hearing his name in the tone of your voice, and being the greedy giant he was, he needed to hear more of you. 

His hands gripped your hips as he guided you back and forth at a quicker pace. You threw your head back as another moan escaped your lips. His lips connected with your jaw leaving feverish kisses down your neck and subtle marks across your collarbone as he nipped at your skin. He groaned again against your skin as you rolled your hips, his hands moving to grab your ass and roll you forward on him again and again. 

It was just the two of you, skin against skin, bodies entwined and moving against each other like parts of a machine built to work with each other. No one else could touch you like this, not like how he could.

You tilted your head back as one hand gripped his shoulder for support, and the other gripped his bicep. Oh god, his arms, you thought to yourself and you bit your lip holding back another moan.

Arthur reached for your chin and angled your head back down gently with his thumb. He wanted you to look at him, but more importantly, he wanted to look at your face as he pleasured you. He wanted to see your puffy lips opening as you moaned out his name, he wanted to see your flushed face and furrowed brow twist into pleasure as he sunk deeper into you, he wanted to see the effect he had on you. 

Your eyes met his with your mouth agape as the moans spilled freely out of you. His thumb brushed against your bottom lip as you continued to grind up and down on him. 

“So damn beautiful.” He praised and you felt yourself melt in his touch, your heart pounding in your chest.

Your pace faltered for a moment as you leaned yourself back, your hands reaching behind you to steady yourself using Arthurs legs. Arthur leaned back mirroring you, both palms now on the bed behind him, the perfect view of all of you before him. You continued your pace as you moved up and down, his member slipping in and out of you.

You looked down at him underneath you, his face and body veiled in a thin sheen of sweat, his brow furrowed in pleasure and his face flushed as he moaned for you. It was unbelievably attractive to you seeing such a strong and stoic man like him reduced down to a blushing, panting mess, absolutely weak to your touch. 

You continued to bounce your hips up and down on him. Arthur shifted his weight to one arm as he brought his hand to his face. You looked at him confused for a moment as he licked his thumb. His hand now moved down between the two of you as his thumb connected with your clit, slowly swirling around. The movement amplified the pleasure you felt across your body and you knew you were getting dangerously close now.

“Arthur, I’m-,” you struggled to get the words out as the sensations became too much. You felt your legs start to weaken and your pace start to falter.

“That’s it darlin’,” his hips thrusted up to make up for the rhythm change, “keep going for me.” You tried your best to keep going between feeling him pound in and out of you and his finger swirling around your clit, until-

Your body suddenly tensed and you held your breath as you reached your climax, waves of bliss and release crashing over you, over and over again. You cried out as your body shuddered. 

Arthur continued his pace as you pulsed around his member, clenching tightly around him. His body rose up to yours again, hands grasping your hips as he continued to move you up and down on him, moaning into your neck over and over. Your hands cupped his cheeks and you lifted his head to look at you, your face burned as it flushed deep shades of red. 

“Come for me.” You whispered, your lips hovering over his, brushing slightly. His breaths were heavy against your lips and his moans grew louder until suddenly he stilled for a moment. He took your lips in his with one last grunt as his thrusts faltered, his kisses sloppy and irregular as he pumped into you.

Arthur pulled you down onto the bed with him, arms still around you. Both of you panted hard trying to catch your breaths as you slipped down beside him. You looked up to him and gave him a tired smile. His hand reached up to caress your cheek, they were calloused but you didn’t care as his thumb softly traced hearts along your cheek.

“How am I supposed to keep my hands off of ‘ya now?” He let out a breathy chuckle giving you that same look of love he always gave you. You grinned and wondered the same for yourself.

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” You suggested knowing damn well it wouldn’t last. You bet that within the day of arriving back at camp he would be all over you again.

He chuckled again. “Don’t think I could if I tried.” He pulled you closer and placed a kiss on your sweaty forehead and you rested your head back down between his collar and jaw. His fingers gently traced along the curves of your back leaving a tingling feeling in their wake as you sank into the warm feeling of his arms around your body, your eyelids growing heavy. 

The unrelenting rain drummed against the wood like a lullaby and for a moment you imagined that this cottage belonged to both of you. The pictures on the walls were of you and him, the trinkets on the shelves all collected from your travels together. You imagined living room dancing in the warm orange glows and more nights close to him just like this. It was a silly dream for a couple of outlaws but maybe in another life it was possible. 

Arthurs breathing evened out as he started to drift off and you hadn’t even realized your own eyes had closed as you replayed the prior events behind your tired eyelids. You let out one last contented sigh as you drifted into cozy darkness.

…

Morning light peaked through the windows and your eyes blinked slowly. The rain had long stopped and instead of hearing the thundering, you could now hear the birds singing in the trees. From this angle, you could look out the window and just barely make out the mountain ridge peaking into view of the window frame. Trees blanketed the surface in rich shades of green as the sun rays beamed out from behind the ridge line. 

You patted the bed around you reaching to touch Arthur, but you noticed he wasn’t there. You sat up in the bed holding the blanket close to your bare body and looked around the cottage. The chair you had placed your coat on the evening prior was pulled up beside the bed, all of your clothes dried and neatly folded resting on the seat, but there was no Arthur in sight.

You got dressed, grabbed your belongings, and headed for the door. You took one last look around and smiled slightly as flashes of the evening played in your head.

You stepped out of the cottage and back into the wilderness. The sky was a bright blue without a single cloud to blemish the sky. You wouldn’t have ever known a storm had passed through if you hadn't been caught in it only hours before. The leaves in the trees rippled lightly as a gentle breeze passed through. You took a deep breath and looked around, spotting Arthur tending to your horses. 

He was in the middle of feeding them, his hand rubbing along the bridge of his horse's nose as his eyes wandered over and caught yours. He instantly smiled upon the sight of you and waved you over and you couldn’t help but smile back at the sight of him too. You walked over to him and to your own horse and brushed your hand along its mane and neck.

“Mornin’ beautiful,” he greeted you, “how’d you sleep?”

“Haven’t gotten a good rest like that in a while.” You let out a relieved sigh and reached into your satchel, pulling out an apple and lifting it to your horse's mouth for it to eat. 

“A good workout will do that.” He winked and you blushed looking back to your horse. He smirked at your sudden shyness, not willing to forget any time soon the new side of you he saw last night. He reached out and took your wrist in his hand and gently pulled you to him. You melted in his arms as they wrapped around you and he pressed his lips to yours in a single passionate and loving kiss. You sighed into him not wanting to pull away, but you remembered the journey you two had to make back to camp. You pulled away and looked up to him. 

“Ready to get an ass chewin’ from Dutch?” You teased, turning to hoist yourself up onto your horse. Arthur groaned as he turned to get on his own horse.

“Maybe we should just stay gone another day.” He muttered knowing he wouldn’t hear the end of it from Dutch. Arthur wanted nothing more than to just bury his head into your neck and your warmth and stay here for a moment longer.

“Come on Morgan,” you pulled the reins of your horse and directed it towards the road, spurring forward, “maybe you could stop by my tent later tonight.” You turned back to him with a wink. He looked up towards you with a smirk playing at his lips.

“Yes ma’am.” He grinned as he followed you down the path and back towards camp.

[cowboyfromh3ll]

ever since your sex hcs included arthur and strength kink and getting lifted effortlessly i need More… part 2 of sorts of arthur sex hcs pretty please how rough he is his hidden kinks and things he wants to do to you how he likes to go down on you all of it 🙏🏻 he is a giver and i want to be tossed around by him very badly

Arthur Morgan NSFW HC

I didn't proofread this

Warnings: smut, size kink, strength kink, breeding kink

Depending on how he's feeling for the day his roughness would vary

Overall his touches are very heavy handed and firm

Manhandles you like you're a weightless toy

One minute you're getting pounded the next you've been flipped into a completely new position

Picks you up by your wrists and drags you across the bed or into a new position

Grabs your ankles and pulls you towards him

Or grabs your waist and moves you around like that. He especially loves doing this when you're riding him

Gives you absolutely no warnings either so you're just swept up

Wouldn't want to tie you up, instead opting towards using his sheer strength to hold you down or in place

I think for a more hidden or lowkey kink he has he'd have a breeding kink

Wouldn't indulge in it until the two of you have actual talks of having a family together

He probably also discovered for himself just how much he liked doing it

Dreams of having his own family one day and the thought of finishing inside you and you having his children gives him goosebumps

Constantly finishes inside you, it's a regular practice during sex

Even if you do fall pregnant he'll continue to do so

Watches himself go in and out of you after cumming inside you and just revels in the sight of copious amounts of cum being pumped into you

Like you said, he's a giver

He takes his time with it and everything, traces open mouthed kisses up to your inner thighs before tracing them back down again

Removes your underwear with his teeth, he knows things are about to get wicked

Kisses and breaths on your pussy, blowing on it and drawing it out before finally giving in

He's really skilled but he isn't the most messy eater, slow but passionate

Literally buries his nose into you and shoves his face in, even let's you grab his hair and push him in

Like Cardi B said, swipes his nose like a credit card

Lots of fingering while he's sucking on you, maybe he'll even slide s pinky into your ass

ALWAYS makes you finish with head too

His beard will be glistening by the time he's done

If you're smaller than him he'll want to see you wearing his clothes while he fucks you

Or if you dress in his clothes and put on his hat and try to act big and bad while domming him

Has a huge thing for you wearing cowboy boots.

Would be a little nervous to introduce weaponry to the bedroom but he'd have fantasies about rubbing his gun on your cunt through the fabric of your underwear

[irissfoot]

arthur morgan x fem reader

him drawing you nude… fluffy and smutty please

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Soft Lines

╰┈➤ After a few weeks away from each other, Arthur takes his beloved wife to the saloon for a night of drawing and soft love making. ♥

Word count: 890

Warnings: unprotected p in v, kissing, nudity (obvi lol), author has zero sexual experience, not proofread

A/N: This is my first ever fic ive written so please be kind lol, also sorry for the delay ive been rlly busy and everytime I sat down to write it i got scared lol.

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Soft giggles met the gentle crackle of the fire, the warm glow casting a soft shadow over her curves as she posed on the rich red chaise couch.

Dutch had sent him and Lenny on yet another wild goose chase, a habit growing annoyingly common. Because of these pointless missions, he hadn't had time to catch up with the love of his life. To correct this, Arthur took her out to dinner at the saloon in Saint Denis - promptly followed by booking a room for the night. 

And that's how you ended up laying on your side on the couch, as bare as the day you were born. You were reluctant at first, I mean, who wouldn't be? Laying naked as your husband who looks like he was sculpted by the gods, sitting there, drawing you. But with a few kisses and a promise that it wouldn't take too long, you obliged. 

“Are you almost done? I feel silly”

“Don’t worry sweetheart, you look gorgeous.” He mumbled as he continued scribbling away, a small smile crept its way onto your face.

“Do you really mean that?” you already knew what his answer would be, but you were growing tired and figured teasing him would help aid that.

He looked up, surprised almost. As if he didn’t say it enough. “Well ‘course I do!” Suddenly an idea popped into your head as he put his head back down.

“Well then show me.” You got up and started walking across the room towards him. Hips intentionally popping out, accentuating your curves.

A smirk made its way onto Arthur's face as he put his pencil and journal down, reaching out to grab onto your soft waist. Pulling you down to have your ass sit flush against his lap. Smiling at you gently as you play with the tuft of hair at his neck, looking lovely into his eyes.

“Don't know what I did to deserve you.” He continued staring into your eyes for a moment, muttering a faint beautiful before leaning in to kiss you. Soft and gentle, those are the words you’d use to describe how Arthur treats you. Holding you like you’re the most important thing in the world to him. 

The kiss became more passionate and deep, kissing down your neck before standing up with you in his arms. Walking back towards the couch, delicately laying you down. You wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him closer as you start to unbutton his black blouse - his favourite but only because you always tell him how handsome he looks in it. 

His hands start to move from your hips and up towards your soft breasts. Massaging them tenderly, making you let out a small sound of protest before breaking from the kiss.

“Arthur, take your clothes off.” Your tone was kind but he knew better than to test you. 

“Yes ma’am.” He sat back on his feet, pulling his arm out of his suspenders as you untuck his shirt pulling it down his shoulders. 

Caressing his shoulders and buff chest as he unbuckles his belt, “God I love you.” Just as he takes his pants off you pull him into a deep kiss. His hands find their way back to your breasts, teasing your nipples as you massage his growing erection.

Mumbles and groans grow louder and you just couldn't take it anymore, pulling away slightly whispering a soft, “Please Arthur.”

You don’t even need to ask a second time before Arthur takes his length in his hand, trailing the tip of his penis between your wet folds moaning at the sensation. 

“Good god women.” He rests his forehead on yours, staring oh so lovely into your eyes before entering you. You couldn't help but moan. It had been a long time since he stretched you out, his ridges rubbing perfectly against your warm velvety walls. Letting out a low groan as he bottomed out. He pulls his hands to your sides, caressing you with a desperation you absolutely adored. 

He started moving, slow, deliberate, and deep. Relishing the noises you were making, the desperate grabs at his back. You needed this just as much as he did. Speeding up a little, hitting your g-spot everytime. Reaching down to bring Arthur's hand into yours, placing a gentle kiss on the back of it. 

“Oh God Arthur.” You weren’t gonna last much longer, walls clenching around his  length. Heels digging into his back, pushing him deeper.

“I know sweetheart, I know.” His pace speeding up a little, he wasn’t gonna last much longer either. 

With a few more strokes and messy kisses, you came undone. Walls spasming on his cock with such a vigor he had never felt before. Moaning loudly, you pulled his sweaty forehead down to meet yours once again. He looked into your eyes as he came, watching the way your face contorted when you felt his warm cum filling you up. 

Panting heavily as his thrusts slowed, collapsing down onto you as you panted. Wrapping your arms around him, kissing his head tenderly. 

As you both layed there, the world around you seemed to dissipate. He looked up at you, the orange glow of the dying fire highlighting the sweat on your face and the frizziness of your tousled hair. And he swore, you never looked better.

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[lonesomedovescry]

nsfw*

thinking about arthur whose breathless chuckle sends you teetering over the edge of the orgasm he had led you to over and over.

arthur who laps up the sweat at the seam of your neck and your shoulder, tonguing your sweet spot with wet heat and teeth, and groans deep and low in his chest as you begin tugging at the fabric of his leather jacket.

arthur who prefers for you to be fully bare before him, and only takes off the layers of his clothes each time you listen well enough to his muttered commands.

arthur who swears he could tear apart the world for you when you take his two, calloused fingers in your sweet mouth to mute your keening whine as he finally, thankfully sinks into you.

arthur whose hips stutter when they meet the apex of your thighs and bottoms out in a single thrust.

arthur who, as he begins to bully the shape of his dick into your cervix, tells you in long, languid detail about how much he loves you.

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

Peace? Wishful Thinking (RDR Secret Santa)

Summary: You've been piling your losses within the gang, and what happens when you nearly lose Arthur again?

Warnings: Violence/injury, angst, and smut. The holy trinity.

Word Count: 4,115

A/N: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone! Especially to my @rdrevents Secret Santa recipient, @twola, who requested Arthur Morgan x reader with the prompt "The only thing I ask is that you outlive me, so I don't have to live another day without you." Hope you enjoy!

Pain spiked down your blood-streaked arm as your fingers spasmed open from it, dropping the six-shooter with a heavy thunk to the dirty wooden floorboards. 

Your chest rose in ragged, shallow breaths as your head spun and the rush of fear flooded your mouth with saliva, your stomach churning as the sting of the gunshot wound and nausea rolled into one. 

Gunshots still fired. The shout of men and the thundering hooves of horses echoed through the forest, though nowhere near the abandoned cabin you’d chosen for your spot of safety, thank God. 

But it wasn’t just your spot, it was also supposed to be his. Arthur’s. 

Your back hit the wall of the cabin as you attempted to catch your breath, eyes closing to fight off the dizziness of panic. Everything had happened at once. What was meant to be a simple stagecoach robbery went awry when that stagecoach turned out to be a group of Pinkertons. 

By some pure luck, you and Arthur managed to outrun them, but they were hot on your tail. Knowing they wouldn’t end their pursuit, Arthur quickly suggested you headed to the rendezvous point while he drew them away. You hated the idea and protested immediately, but there had been no room, or time, to argue. 

The state line of New Hanover and Ambarino was a woodsy and mountainous area with thankfully plenty of hiding places. There’d been a sharp turn that allowed just precious moments of an advantage. Arthur instructed you to disappear into the forest while he remained on the main path, and you did just that, urging your mare between the pines and over boulders. The gunshots behind you didn’t ease your concern, and you dared not to look back just in case they managed to see you through the brush. 

It was either a blessing or a curse that they chased you closer toward the rendezvous point the two of you scouted out just days earlier; an abandoned hunting cabin that none would be the wiser to. Far enough off the main path that no one would find unless they were specifically looking for it. 

Which is now where you stood, waiting, listening. Your hammering heart began to slow and you breath was slowly evening out. The only two windows in the cabin were filthy, only allowing the blurred shapes of the outside to be seen. 

But the sounds continued to lessen, giving way to the silence of nature. Slowly, you straightened, the movement causing your arm to burn once more. In the craze you’d been shot at, and you glanced over expecting to find a hole in your arm. 

By some luck it wasn’t that, instead just a nasty, bloody slit just below the curve of your shoulder. You’d been grazed. 

Breathing in a sigh of relief, it caught in your throat as you thought about Arthur. You knew he could outrun the law, he’d done so many times. But the Pinkertons had been hot on everyone’s trail since Blackwater, and it felt like their pursuit was slowly closing in over the past few months. 

Would he be captured, or worse? 

Another wave of nausea rolled over you at the mere thought of— 

No. You can’t think like that. Panic would only make the situation worse. 

Taking a deep breath, you pushed the now torn jacket from your body with intent to patch the wound. You then stepped outside only briefly to retrieve supplies from the saddlebags, and giving a cursory glance of the surroundings. 

Still no sounds, no angry lawmen on horseback. 

No Arthur either. 

Pursing your lips, you hurried back inside and got to work. It wasn’t deep, but it stung like a nest of angry wasps when you cleaned it. No need for stitches. 

As you applied a balm and then a bandage, a memory surfaced. 

Arthur had come back to camp one night in shambles, after having been kidnapped by the O’Driscolls. You’d known something was off even before the men rode out to meet with Colm. Both you and Arthur knew it, but there was no arguing with Dutch. 

And when they came back without Arthur, the feeling festered. Dutch had no straight answer as to where Arthur was, only pushing your concerns off stating he was fine, probably off elsewhere for a while. It was in Arthur’s nature to go off on his own, and you knew that...but, something in your gut told you otherwise. 

You’d argued, shouted, demanded that the entire camp go out to find him as the day grew into night, but Dutch wouldn’t let up. It was only by Hosea’s calming words that you were able to tamper down from almost outright punching the leader, albeit with frustration. 

And you’d been right. Arthur was right, when he appeared with one foot in the grave, too exhausted to even sit properly on his horse and his shoulder in shambles from a nasty gunshot wound. 

Berating Dutch was the last of your worries, devoting those next few weeks to restoring Arthur’s health. Though it didn’t come unscathed; Arthur had always been strong. He’d never been so badly wounded and the thought of losing him...almost sent you into a spiral. 

And he saw it, saw you barely holding yourself together every time you changed his bandages, every time you fed him stew when he just had enough strength to lift his head and swallow. 

He wasn’t shy about his affections the moment his strength began to seep back in, pulling you onto his cot in the night, pressing sweet kisses on your cheek, your lips, your neck and whispering small “thank you”s against your skin. 

And when his shoulder healed, there was no stopping him from taking it further. 

Three weeks later, it was as if nothing happened, the only reminder was the knot of a scar branding his skin. He’d been ready to go right back out and contribute once again. 

But those weeks changed you, a harsh remembrance that mortality wasn’t a toy to be carelessly played with. Every thought you had about him leaving camp, going on another heist, everything that was considered a daily life now shadowed. 

You’d lost people along the way. Hell, you knew what came with this life. How many of those died when escaping Blackwater and making your way up to Colter? Sean was killed not that long ago. Almost lost Jack to a crazy woman’s antics. A child. And Kieran...poor Kieran. Who was next? 

The losses were piling up, and yet...Arthur kept going. And every time he rode out of camp, he took a piece of your heart with him. 

The memories burned in the back of your throat as your vision blurred. Angrily you swiped the tears away before they could fall, focusing back to the present. Arthur had to be okay. He had to be. 

Your wound was patched up, and you had nothing else to do but wait. You weren’t sure how safe it was to leave, and you knew Arthur would make his way back here. He knew better than to head back to camp in case he was still followed. 

Ambarino was harsh, unforgiving territory. No doubt he’d lose the Pinkertons fairly quick in the terrain. 

And so you waited. 

And waited... 

Minutes ticked into hours. You’d paced the cabin at least a hundred times. You’d glanced through a window at every pass hoping to catch a glimpse of the silhouette of the horse and rider you knew so well. You’d attempted to eat, but the rock in your stomach just made you nauseous again. 

Encroaching thoughts turned your mind into a warzone. Arthur received a tip about this job and asked you to come with him, knowing how it bothered you to leave you behind. Stagecoach heists were nothing new; you’d done it hundreds of times both with and without him. 

It has to have been a set-up. There was no way it wasn’t. Unless someone got the information wrong. 

You sighed and kicked at a clump of dirt on the floor. There was no point in pondering what went wrong and why, especially now. 

The sky steadily grew darker with the passing time, and you didn’t dare to reach for one of the oil lamps just in case someone was in the area close enough to see it and come snooping. 

But what if Arthur was close, looking for the cabin? Would the light be enough to beckon him closer, or draw him away? 

Exhaustion suddenly hit like a brick wall, and you found yourself collapsing into a rickety chair. The bed in the corner, as dusty as it was, looked welcoming, but you wouldn’t risk sleeping when there were too many unknowns still in the air. 

The cabin was nearly pitch black, aside from the weak moonlight peering through the grimy windows. A hoot of a closeby owl was the only other presence. The quiet sneeze of your mare just on the other side of the wall. 

Your gun rested in your hand, your eyes staring at the faint outline of the door. You only had to wait for Arthur to come in, or a Pinkerton, or wait until morning to leave. 

You hoped the first would be the only option. 

You didn’t know when you fell asleep, only that the rattle of the doorknob yanked you out of slumber. Heart racing and the grip on your gun tightened, you threw your hand up just as the door swung open. 

A large silhouette took up almost the entire frame, standing only slightly stark against the pined background. Your heart lurched to your throat as your finger hovered over the trigger. 

“I’m armed!” you warned, attempting to hide the waver in your voice. 

A voice carried in the space between you. It was just one word; your name. 

A voice that was so familiar, you almost dropped your gun. 

“Arthur?” 

Your legs, as tired and wobbly as they were, brought you from sitting to standing, to striding across the small cabin in a matter of seconds. 

He met you halfway, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you into a tight embrace. You sunk into his hold, relief flooding your entire being as fresh tears stung your eyes. 

His scent enveloped you, leather and tobacco and the slight earthy smell of his horse lingered on his clothes. He was warm, and you hadn’t realized how cold it was until that very moment. 

You looked up at him, his features slowly forming in the dimness. His blue eyes were bright, brows pinched as he searched your face. 

“I’m okay,” you confirmed. “You?” 

“Fine,” he said gruffly, and drew you in for a kiss, pressing his lips to yours. 

You melted immediately, leaning into his strong body, arms wrapping around his neck. His arms tightened around you, one hand leaving your waist to draw up your back, burying his fingers into your hair. 

The stark relief mixed with a heavier emotion, one that opened your mouth to Arthur’s silent inquiry. The kiss deepened then, lips and tongues and teeth clashing. He held you so close it was as if he was trying to absorb you into his body. 

Hell, you would do the same if you would. Your hands reached up to his head, clumsily knocking his hat off as your fingers found his soft locks. All that worry, concern, fear...melted into a heat that pooled into the bottom of your stomach. 

And Arthur was on the same wavelength. 

He backed you up, until the backs of your legs hit something solid. It caused you to fall back, hitting the lumpy bed. A cloud of dust swirled around you, and Arthur was anything but gentle. His roaming hands found the front of your pants, unbuttoning them and yanking the denim down from your hips. Your own hands busied themselves, unbuckling the gun belt from his waist then his jacket. 

The cool night air caressed the skin of your lower torso as more clothing was shed. You weren’t sure how long exactly before you were completely naked, but Arthur’s presence suddenly disappeared. You blinked in confusion, about to voice your displeasure when the glow of an oil lamp erupted into life, washing the cabin in a faint golden glow. 

Blinking again from the sudden light, you saw Arthur standing just above you. He was just as bare as you, your eyes first roving over his body. Dark blood spotted his forearms, but you saw nothing indicating injury. As your eyes dipped below his waistline, not shy about peering at his arousal, you then slowly brought your gaze upward, meeting his scrutinizing stare. 

“I needed to see you,” he murmured. “I needed—” he paused abruptly, eyes widening slightly and you knew what he was looking at. The bandage around your arm. 

“I was grazed,” you said. “That’s it.” 

The relief that took hold of him was immediate, washing away the tenseness in his muscles.  He then knelt before you, his callused palms sliding up and down your hips and thighs as he planted sweet kisses to your skin, working his way up to the aching space between your legs. His fingers were on you instantly, expertly finding the bundle of nerves nestled within the curls. You gasped as he rubbed, hips bucking against his palm. 

You spoke his name like a prayer, writhing on the dusty quilt as he played you like a fiddle. His other hand slid up the midline of your stomach, finding purchase on your breast. He rolled and pinched your nipple while his fingers prodded your entrance before invading your inner walls, causing a burst of pleasure to ricochet through your system. 

His thumb and fingers worked in tandem, his eyes never leaving your face the more you squirmed, sweet ecstasy ramping up almost too quickly. 

“Arthur, I—I’m close!” you whined, back arching and hips shuddering in his touch. 

“Let go, sweetheart,” he encouraged, his voice low and thick. 

And you did just that, the flame that burned in your core exploded like a firework, encompassing your entire body as you moaned your release, muscles tensing for a moment before it faded. 

Arthur eased his hands from you, and as you caught your breath and your heart slowed, you met his gaze. There was a glint of hunger in those beautiful eyes, one that you knew all too well. He leaned forward, planting his arms on either side of you, caging you between his body and the bed. 

His forehead pressed against yours, his breath almost as ragged as yours had been just a moment ago. 

“Need you,” he murmured. “Need t’ be inside of you.” 

You smiled, lifting your arms to find home around his neck again. “Then what are you waiting for?” 

He groaned, grabbing your hips and angling himself between your legs. He wasn't slow about his next move, plunging his hips forward and burying himself within you in one smooth motion. 

You gasped out loud, your nails scraping against his skin. That’ll be the only marks on him for a while, you decided, as any other coherent thought was lost with a deep kiss. 

His mouth moved on yours while he thrust again. It was hard and deep, absent of the gentleness he usually brought. No, this was fueled by carnal need and desperation. Driven by high emotions lingering from the failed heist, built up from the weeks of that slowly festering terror. 

But he was here with you now, together and real and—fuck, you were just...here. 

He pistoned in and out of you, his hands digging so hard into your flesh you’re sure there would be bruises later. But you didn’t care, especially as your nails scored down the expanse of his back. The marks left would be that reminder that you both made it back to one another tonight. 

His lips left yours to favor your jaw, then your neck, nibbling and sucking at the heated skin. It seemed his thoughts were aligned with yours. 

“Fuck,” he breathed against your skin. “Y’ feel amazin’” 

You returned that sentiment with a whine, wrapping your legs around his waist which only served to bring him deeper inside. His large frame twitched in your grasp, a deep grunt emanating from his chest. 

Every bit of your body was inflamed, nerves singing from the absolute need and desire surging through your blood. Nothing else mattered in that moment but him. Alive and well and safe...for the time being. 

That burst of reality hit you like a train, and you mentally shoved at its unwelcome invasion. You needed to take control, then and there. 

Your hands slid to his chest and you pushed, though kept your legs around him. Arthur seemed to understand and ceded, switching positions with ease. He stretched on the bed while still enveloped in your warmth. His gaze swept to yours with a heated stare, and you moved. 

Up and down and gyrating, riding him like a well-practiced bronc. He groaned deeply as his hands flew to the curves of your waist, twitching underneath to keep with your rhythm. 

God, you loved when it was like this. The power, the control of his pleasure from being on top of him. The way he melted underneath you. 

Arthur was all force. Built with muscle, angled planes and power. The way he exuded his prowess had you trembling in more ways than one. There was a time when you would admit he scared you, but never like this. 

Sure, you were a force to be reckoned with all your own. But to wield this man...this outlaw...this honed weapon, to your will like this— 

His hands cupped and squeezed your breasts as they bounced, drawing a gasp from you and pulling you from your thoughts. 

“So damn beautiful,” he rasped breathlessly. “Ridin’ me like you stole me.” 

A smirk crossed your lips at the same time a flush colored your cheeks, momentarily breaking eye contact. You stole him, alright. Stole his heart straight from his chest, just like he had yours in a vice grip. 

And you’ll keep it for life, despite what the others say or think. They can all fall off a cliff if it meant you and Arthur were never separated. 

You leaned forward, hands grasping the wrought iron headboard for support as you took him deeper, driving your hips against his over and over, watching as his face contorted. His grip went from your breasts to your hips again, snapping upward and bringing himself to eye level with you. 

Arthur held you hard, meeting your rhythm with equal haste. The cry you uttered was swallowed his fervent kiss, all lips and tongue and teeth. 

Your second release was barreling toward you, fast and powerful. Your entire body convulsed as it crashed into you, moaning like a whore, and Arthur’s deep groan indicated he felt your spasms. 

His pace increased, erratic and rough as you came down trembling from your high. The way his grip tightened and his breaths shortened, he was close too. 

Your hands left the headboard to cling to his neck, deepening the kiss as his bucking never ceased. You knew the instant he gasped into your mouth when his climax hit, and you ground your hips against him simultaneously, pushing him inside you to the hilt. 

He froze, a deep grumble in his belly as he released, pulsating between your now drenched walls. Pulling his mouth back just a few inches, he let out a low, breathless curse. His forehead rested against yours, your chests heaving in tandem as you fought to catch your breaths. 

Silence encompassed the cabin, the only other movement the slight flicker of the oil lamp, casting dark shadows against the wooden walls. 

A moment passed, then two, as your breathing quieted and the sweat on your skin cooled. 

Arthur sat up straighter, his eyes flicking to yours. He gazed at you, half-lidded and face flushed beneath the stubble and slight streaks of dirt. You raised your hand to wipe one away, just across his cheek bone. 

There were no words at the moment, but the post-orgasmic bliss began to fade. 

“I thought the worst happened,” you admitted quietly, turning your face away. 

You felt his fingers against your chin. The touch was gentle but firm, guiding you back to look at him. “It didn’t,” he reminded you softly. “I made it back. I always do.” 

You nodded, but that lingering thought from earlier clouded your mind again. “But what if you don’t next time?” You asked, your chest beginning to knot. 

His brow furrowed. It wasn’t the first time you’d had this discussion with him, it’s happened more than once after his ordeal with the O’Driscolls. “You know it—” 

“Can happen, of course I know,” you said thickly. “But nowadays, it’s just…more of a possibility than ever, Arthur.” 

He was quiet then, his gaze breaking away and you knew he was thinking about the others.  

“It’s been nothing but one tragedy after another,” you continued. “And I…I can’t take watching all this play out, knowing that it may be you next.” 

Arthur grit his teeth at that, but the flicker of pain that crossed his expression meant it hadn’t been just your concerns alone. 

The words we should stop always rose to the back of your mouth but never landed on your tongue. How could you ask Arthur to leave his family and the life he knew for twenty years? When he didn’t even want to leave it for his once fiancée. 

But how much longer was he willing to go? 

You leaned in, resting your face against his bare shoulder. “I love you, so much,” you sighed. “I just want you...want us...to be safe.” 

His hand slid up your back to curl into your hair, and his head moved to place a kiss to your cheek. “I know, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice heavy. 

Your throat burned with unshed tears. You blinked, trying to force them away, but they ran hot down your cheeks. God, how many times would this conversation play out between you two? Until Arthur would stop trying to reassure you and just agree? 

“I wish we could just...go,” you said, finally releasing those words out. 

That statement hung heavy in the air, the tension becoming more palpable by the second. He shifted then, leaning back as far as the headboard allowed him to look at you. 

His gaze was searching, a small furrow in his brow. There was no taking back what you said, and you met his stare levelly, although your vision was slightly blurred by tears. 

“We...need to,” you said, voice thick. “Before we...before you get hurt again, or worse. Or if someone else dies, or—” 

He kissed you then, so deeply and passionately that it almost caught you off-guard. His hands rested gently on your cheeks, swiping away the tracks of tears. He pulled back then, his throat catching on a swallow. 

“I might be too wrapped up in this,” he admitted. “It’s too late—” 

“No, it’s not,” you cut him off. “Arthur, how close were you to losing your life last month? How many people have we lost recently? We almost died just hours ago! How much more will it take?!” 

He closed his eyes at that. You knew what all of those deaths meant to him, even Kieran’s, when Arthur merely tolerated his existence in the group. It was wearing him down even if he didn’t want to admit it. 

“I can’t take another funeral,” you continued, fresh tears stinging your eyes. “Especially not yours.” 

He shook his head at your words, as if trying to physically shoo them away. He was quiet for a moment, his face full of tense contemplation. Finally, he met your gaze again. 

“The only thing I ask,” he started, his voice steady. “Is that you outlive me, so I don’t have to live another day without you.” 

Those words twisted your insides. It was as if he was saying goodbye to you. 

“Arthur, don’t do that,” you said. “Please don’t.” 

He drew in a deep sigh, his expression pained. “I don’t know what else to say.” 

There were a million other things you could think of. To agree with your ideas, to assure you that the two of you could outlive all of this, not have to rely on breaking the law countless times over to live a life of peace. 

What started off as promised paradise slowly turned into poison, and you had to make him see that somehow. 

And that’s what you silently vowed to do. 

[moeitsu]

The Dark Tide Siren!Arthur Morgan x Reader Modern AU Ch 4 - The Current Knows No Master Summary: Hosea is a steady presence, helping Arthur unravel his past and the dangers that come with it. Tension builds between you and Arthur during a heated moment, where your physical closeness stirs unexpected emotions. You begin to sense that your unspoken connection could change the relationship forever, as feelings of vulnerability and trust deepen. wc: 10k tw: none really, exploring anatomy, slight nsfw Swim Back! ↞ ﹏𓊝﹏ ↠ Sail Ahead!

AN: This might be my new favorite chapter. Got a bit carried away, but I'm pretty proud of it! Serving up some sweet hot angst :)

I've also started a tag list! I'm still blown away that people are reading this let alone enjoying it! If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters please let me know!

tag list: @photo1030 @v3lv3tf0x @ireallyhonestlydontcare

Hosea shifted his weight, flipping through Charles’ medical report with one hand while his sharp eyes flickered between the clipboard, Arthur’s imposing figure, and me. He repeated this process several times, skimming the notes, muttering under his breath, then stealing another glance at Arthur as if to make sure he was real. For a man who had spent over three decades running an aquatic rescue center, he was taking the discovery of a mythical creature with remarkable composure.

The deep lines on his sun-weathered face twitched with contemplation, but there was no fear—just curiosity. Hosea Matthews was a man who had seen it all. As the owner and benefactor of the Heartland Aquatic Rehabilitation Center, he was more than just a businessman—he was a scientist, a teacher, and above all, a protector. He thrived on educating the public about marine conservation, often leading school tours and speaking with journalists to spread awareness of our mission. No creature was too broken or beyond saving in his eyes. If an animal found itself within these walls, Hosea would sooner strike a deal with the devil himself than abandon it to fate. And that devotion extended to the people under his care, too. He treated his employees like family, fiercely loyal and deeply invested in each of us.

The clock on the wall ticked past 7:10 AM. The facility would open to the public in less than an hour, it was typical for Hosea to arrive early and check in on his employees and resident patients. But I had a gut feeling he would be clearing his schedule today. Not when something like this had landed in his lap.

“Two hearts…” he muttered, rubbing his bearded chin thoughtfully. He looked at Arthur again, then back at me, as if I could somehow confirm what he’d read in the report. “Incredible. One to pump blood to the gills, the other to circulate it through the body, if I were to guess.”

His voice carried the same fascination I had felt the first time I pressed my ear to Arthur’s chest and heard that mesmerizing, rhythmic thrum. But unlike me, Hosea’s wonder was tempered with calculation—already, I could see the gears turning in his head as he tried to piece together Arthur’s biology. I had no doubt that by the end of the day, he’d be buried in every marine textbook and research paper he could find, chasing the impossible.

Hosea tossed the medical notes onto the counter with a soft pattering clink, exhaling as he stepped closer to the pool. His boots scuffed against the tile, the sound swallowed by the steady hum of filtration systems and the gentle slosh of water as Arthur shifted ever so slightly. Despite my presence, Arthur’s slitted eyes remained locked onto Hosea, watching his every movement with wary precision. His dark blond hair drifted like kelp caught in a current, fanned out around his partially submerged face. Even now, after everything we’d been through together, his instinct was still caution.

With a groan that betrayed his age, Hosea crouched at the pool’s edge, resting his forearms on his knees. He ran a weathered hand through the white strands of his hair, lips tugging into a wry smile. “I have to be honest—I really thought John and Charles had teamed up to play some kind of sick prank on an old man.” He chuckled warmly, shaking his head. “But I can see now that I was the fool.”

I huffed a quiet laugh. “I bet John wishes this was still a prank. He had a hard time with it all last night.”

Hosea’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “Sounds like my boy.” He glanced back at Arthur, studying him as though he were trying to commit every impossible detail to memory. “What did you say his name was?”

“Arthur,” I answered softly. “And he can talk. You just need to be patient, he’s—”

I trailed off as Arthur’s eyes found mine, those deep blue depths glistening with something fragile. A silent plea. Fear, uncertainty, trust all woven into one unspoken look. That strange, aching need to protect him surged through me again, something deeper than instinct, something almost primal. I couldn’t explain it, but I felt it down to my bones.

“He’s had a rough night,” I finished, voice quieter now.

Hosea hummed knowingly, his gaze flicking to Arthur once more. “Well, Charles isn't one to spare any gruesome details in his reports. Sounds like he’s been through hell.” He leaned in slightly, offering a warm, reassuring smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Arthur. My name is Hosea Matthews—I run this rehabilitation center. I can see you’ve already met some of my crew. They’re good people. And we’re gonna do everything we can to help you, son.”

Arthur didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. The slow, deliberate flare of his gills spoke for him, a flicker of unease passing through his body like a ripple on water. At first, I didn’t understand why—until I caught the briefest twitch in his expression at Hosea’s choice of familiarity. Son. The word struck something in him, something painful.

He told me about his ‘family’ only moments ago.

My stomach twisted at the memory of his broken voice, the raw truth laced beneath the simple words: Don’t have a home. His trust was slow, a fragile thing, and I knew then that Hosea’s kindness—though genuine—was still too much, too soon. But not with me, a small voice in my mind whispered. Arthur trusted me. That realization wrapped around my heart and squeezed, an intoxicating blend of responsibility and something deeper, something I wasn’t ready to name.

“Once that wound starts making some progress, we’ll get you into a bigger tank,” Hosea continued, his voice gentle, coaxing. “You’ll love it here, I promise.” He winked, as if that alone could lighten the weight of everything Arthur had endured.

Arthur remained silent, but his gaze flicked back to me, as if waiting for my confirmation. And for the first time since last night, I wondered if I was becoming more than just his rescuer. If I was becoming his tether. His anchor in a raging sea of uncertainty. 

It almost felt…good to be needed, to be trusted with something so beautiful yet fragile.

I crouched next to Hosea, exhaling a hesitant sigh as I searched for the right words. “About that, Hosea… There’s something rather, uhm—miraculous I discovered about Arthur this morning.”

Before he could ask, I extended my wrist, tilting it so the sunlight filtering through the skylights caught on my skin. The light refracted off four iridescent scars, polished like streaks of opal, running in perfect parallel lines.

Hosea’s sharp eyes narrowed. He reached out, taking my wrist in his weathered hands and pulling it closer. With a quiet hum, he retrieved a pair of glasses from his breast pocket and perched them on his nose.

“Count my lucky stars,” he murmured, smoothing a calloused thumb over the scarred flesh, where the once-torn skin had knitted itself back together seamlessly. “I’ve never seen something like this in all my days.”

“Me neither,” I admitted, still in awe of the truth I had barely begun to comprehend. “He’s got some kind of accelerated regeneration ability—and it’s not just his own body that heals. He can use it on others. I don’t know the extent of it yet, or its limitations, but the wound he suffered last night has nearly vanished.”

Hosea exhaled, thoughtful as he turned my wrist this way and that, watching the scars catch the light like shifting pearls. He was a man who had seen plenty of strange things in his lifetime, but even this seemed beyond his understanding.

“He’s truly something incredible,” I continued, voice dipping lower, heavier. “But I’m afraid there are some bad people who want to take it from him.”

“The harpoon, you mean?” Hosea asked, cocking an eyebrow. Of course, nothing ever got past this man. The moment I mentioned Arthur’s ability, he had already pieced together that there was more to this creature than what was written in the report.

I stole a glance at Arthur, watching the way the water rippled gently around his partially submerged face. His eyes met mine, and for a moment, he was still. Then, the faintest nod—a gesture so small it would’ve been imperceptible if not for the subtle movement of the water.

He was giving me permission. Trusting me to speak on his behalf. Trusting me to share his past with the only people willing to help him.

And I wouldn’t take that lightly.

Without hesitation, I launched into everything I had learned. If anyone could help us—if anyone could save Arthur from the torment and cruelty that had shaped his existence—it was Hosea Matthews.

I told him Arthur was only half siren, that his father had been human and had taken him from his mother at a young age. I explained how this man had sold him off like livestock, trading his own son to a group of scientists who saw him as nothing more than an experiment, a resource to be drained. They had exploited his ability to heal, used his body without regard for his pain or his will.

But I left out the part about his son. That felt like a piece of Arthur’s past that wasn’t mine to share. He had so little as it was—no home, no family, no freedom. His memories, even the painful ones, were all he had left of his identity, the only proof that he had ever been someone instead of something.

Hosea listened in silence, his face unreadable, though I could see the sharpness in his eyes—the way his mind was already moving, fitting the pieces together. But when I spoke the name, the name of the man who had claimed ownership over Arthur, his expression shifted.

“Dutch van der Linde,” Hosea repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze turned distant, clouded by thought—remembering, calculating, connecting dots I hadn’t even drawn yet. He let out a slow, measured breath, and when he spoke again, his tone was grim.

“Oh dear. This isn't good.”

Arthur sensed the shift instantly. His body tensed beneath the water, muscles coiling like a predator readying for a strike. He rose slightly, his gills flaring and on full display, his lip curling back in a silent snarl. The sharp ridges of his shark-like teeth glinted beneath the morning light.

This was not the fear of a man—it was the instinct of a creature who knew he had been backed into a corner. The predator turned prey. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. The water around him rippled with the force of his body preparing for a fight, knowing that if it came to that, he would not go down without one.

For the first time since I had met him, I saw not just the man or the creature—but something caught in between.

Something dangerous.

Something monstrous. 

Arthur’s entire body was wound tight, his muscles flexing beneath the water’s surface. His teeth, sharp and lethal, remained bared just enough to send a warning. A storm brewed behind his ocean-blue eyes, dark and turbulent, and for the first time, I realized just how close he was to snapping. 

I felt the tension rising fast, thickening the air like a pressure drop before a hurricane.

“Hosea,” I said carefully, keeping my voice even. “Do you know of this man?”

Arthur’s fingers twitched at his sides, his claws flexing, his body poised as if he expected to fight his way out of here. He needed answers, but he also needed to be calmed before he did something that betrayed the gentle nature he had shown me.

Hosea stood slowly, exhaling a long sigh as he scratched his chin, pulling his thoughts together. “Dutch is a kingpin in the pharmaceutical industry.”

I blinked, caught off guard. Pharmaceuticals?

“I’ve never heard of him before,” I interrupted, rifling through the list of billionaires who ran the healthcare industry. Names of powerful CEOs and corporate giants ran through my mind, but Dutch van der Linde wasn’t among them. Surely, if someone in the healthcare industry had a creature like Arthur under their study, the world would know about it. His existence wouldn’t be a secret—it would be a scientific revelation.

“That’s because he operates underground,” Hosea explained. “Think of it like the black market. He has unorthodox ways of testing and collecting data. We crossed paths many years ago, before I opened this facility. He offered me a partnership of sorts, wanted to use my knowledge of marine life to push his ideals. His plans.”

I swallowed hard, the tendrils of fear curling tight around my heart.

“Plans for what?” My voice was quieter now, uncertain. “Is he trying to make a drug from Arthur’s mucilage? To cure cancer or something?”

It was a hopeful thought, but the moment the words left my mouth, I already knew the reality was much darker. I had seen it—the proof was written in the scars scattered across Arthur’s body, each one a testament to suffering and cruelty.

Hosea’s expression darkened. His voice, when he spoke again, was void of any warmth.

“No, my dear.” He met my gaze, unblinking. “Men like him don’t have other people’s best interests at heart. Dutch isn’t looking for a cure. He’s looking for immortality.”

The breath hitched in my throat.

“He—he wants to live forever?”

Was that even possible? Arthur’s ability was accelerated healing, but had this man found a way to harness it? To manipulate it, weaponize it—use it to halt aging entirely?

Was that why they had wanted Arthur to give them a son? So they could continue their exploitation for generations, creating a lineage of sirens bred for their abilities?

A knowing smile ghosted across Hosea’s lips, though it held no humor. Perhaps it was my naivety that amused him.

“Not in the way you think,” he said. “Dutch is a businessman, an opportunist. Money and power—those are the only things he believes can make a man eternal. Wealth that never runs dry, influence that never fades.”

I felt my stomach turn.

Arthur hadn’t just been a captive. He had been an investment.

And Dutch wasn’t going to let his most valuable asset slip away so easily.

The familiar clank of metal filled my ears as the door to the examination room creaked open. The sound alone was enough to send ripples of tension through the air, a reminder that we were no longer in the fragile quiet of the morning. Almost simultaneously, I heard Arthur shift in the water—or rather, felt the splash as he disappeared beneath the surface.

He had retreated again, gliding to the farthest edge of the pool. But the space wasn’t large, offering little sanctuary. Beneath the water, I saw the faint outline of his curled tail, drawn tightly to his body in an attempt to make himself smaller. To disappear. Oh, this poor sweet creature… My heart twisted painfully at the sight.

He was so frightened. Using all his energy, which should be focussed on his healing, to appear brave in the face of the unknown. Every new sound, every unfamiliar scent put him on edge. The stress was coiling around him, dragging him deeper into the instinctual fear of an animal who had spent too long being hunted. The primal impulse to retreat, to hide, to disappear. Already, I wished we could go back to how things had been just hours ago, when he had been more at ease, when he had welcomed my touch.

But now, reality was creeping back in. And Arthur was retreating into himself.

The door fully swung open, and John strode in, carrying a tray with three coffees balanced in his grip. The rich, bitter aroma cut through the sterile scent of the examination room, grounding me in something familiar. Without a word, he set the tray down on the counter with a quiet thud.

I slipped off the lip of the pool, sinking into the water’s embrace. It was warm, a soothing contrast to the cold tension in my muscles, heated by the morning sun and the underwater pads Lenny had installed for Arthur’s comfort. The exhaustion of the night before, coupled with my less-than-ideal sleeping arrangements, pressed down on me like a weight.

I needed rest. I needed a clear mind to tackle this. But even as fatigue settled deep in my joints, the water offering momentary relief, I knew my first priority wasn’t myself. It was him.

Arthur needed reassurance. He needed to know that everything was going to be alright—even if I wasn’t entirely sure that was true.

“Morning,” John rasped, his voice rough with sleep. “Thought you guys could use some caffeine. There’s breakfast sandwiches in the breakroom, too.”

“Thanks, son,” Hosea said warmly, reaching for one of the coffees. The steam curled in the air, fogging his glasses as he took a careful sip.

John walked over to the pool and extended an iced coffee toward me. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect—my body desperately needed the energy.

“Thank you, John,” I murmured, wrapping my chilled fingers around the plastic cup before taking a grateful sip.

Iced mocha caramel. He always grumbled that I was drinking more sugar than actual coffee, but he remembered my order nonetheless. It was a small thing. But right now, these small things meant everything.

Behind me, I hadn’t even noticed Arthur had lifted his head out of the water until John made a disgusted noise.

“Yeesh, he’s even uglier in the daylight. Look at those beady eyes, and those freaky little things coming out the side of his head…”

I snapped my head up at him, mouth already open in protest. “John—!”

“Yeah, well, you ain’t the prettiest either, sunshine.”

The deep, gravelly timbre cut through the room, stopping John mid-sentence. His entire body stiffened, face draining of color and mouth gaping as his eyes darted toward Arthur, who was now watching him with an infuriating amount of amusement.

“What the fuck?” John sputtered, pointing an accusing finger. “H-he talks?!”

I couldn’t help but snicker at his reaction, and I wasn’t the only one. I noticed Hosea’s expression shift as well—the weight of our conversation that had hung over him only moments ago giving way to something softer, something like awe and quiet amusement.

Arthur smirked, swimming closer, his chest puffing slightly as he rose higher out of the water. “What, did an alligator eat half your brains?” he taunted. “’Course I talk. You think I’m some kind of inane half-wit like you?”

John’s face turned an impressive shade of red. “Listen, shark boy, we saved your scaly ass. You best remember that.”

Arthur smirked, tilting his head ever so slightly. “Oh, I remember plenty—like you nearly drownin’ in three feet of water.” His voice was smooth, but his wit was sharp as an urchin’s needle. “I’ve seen beached fish put up a better fight. You swim ‘bout as well as a mudskipper in a desert.”

“That’s enough, boys!” Hosea cut in before John could dig himself any deeper, though he couldn’t quite stifle his own laugh. “Lord above, you two bicker like brothers, and you’ve only just met.”

John huffed, crossing his arms, but I caught the flicker of reluctant amusement beneath his irritation. Really, how could anyone stay mad when trading barbs with a creature as sharp-witted, articulate, and downright magnificent as Arthur?

Hosea patted his shoulder, steering the conversation back on track. “I’ve gotta make some calls—see if Sadie’s heard anything about Dutch or his whereabouts. John, go check on the main tank, make sure it’s suitable for our new friend. And see if Kieran’s got some mussels or fresh fish. He looks like he’s about ready to eat you.”

With a playful wink, Hosea turned back toward Arthur and me, leaving John grumbling under his breath.

Sadie Adler was the local fish and game warden, but calling her that didn’t do her justice—she was a force to be reckoned with. Fierce and unyielding, she handled everything from enforcing conservation policies to investigating violations, and if Dutch Van der Linde was operating anywhere nearby, Sadie was the first to turn up with a keen eye for intel. She wasn’t just a woman of authority—she was a dear friend to the facility, having been there from the beginning, offering advice, helping with the heavy lifting, and supporting Hosea, John, and the rest of the team whenever they needed her. Her loyalty ran deep, and while she commanded respect in the wilderness, she was equally dependable when it came to the people she trusted. If Dutch was on the move, Sadie would be there to track him down, and if things escalated, she’d be the one to lead the charge. 

With Sadie involved, the ball was finally beginning to roll, and everyone knew that when she was on their side, they had an unshakable ally.

John let out a long-suffering sigh, the kind that could only come from someone who was used to this kind of banter, but there was no masking the reluctant compliance in his eyes as he nodded. Then, with a skeptical glance at me, he shot a question over his shoulder. “The hell are you grinning for?”

A giggle bubbled up from my chest, and I leaned closer, lowering my voice just enough so Hosea wouldn’t hear me instigating. “You got schooled by a fish.” I couldn't help the amusement that flickered in my eyes. Watching John get taken down a peg by Arthur was too good to pass up.

John’s eyes narrowed, his grin tugging at the scars on his cheek, and for a moment, I could see the challenge in his gaze. “No wonder he’s taken a liking to you,” he said with a sly chuckle. “Weird attracts weird.”

I rolled my eyes, but before I could throw back a sharp retort, John grabbed his coffee, tipping the cup toward me with a mock salute. “Charles should be here soon,” he said, turning toward the door. “He’ll want to examine him again before we move him, so do whatever it is you do and tame the beast before he takes a bite out of one of us.”

The playful edge in his tone was still there, but I could sense the underlying tension. Arthur was no beast, not really. No matter how much he tried to act like one. And despite everything he had endured, there was something in his eyes that made me want to keep protecting him, keep reassuring him that he didn’t have to be that thing. He wasn’t that monster.

As John stepped out, the door clicking softly behind him, I turned back toward him in the pool, where Arthur still lingered, his gaze distant but locked on me. A quiet understanding passed between us. Like we were both waiting for the moment we could be alone. 

* ‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊

Arthur’s gaze was fixed on the door, his sharp eyes flicking back and forth as if he were anticipating the next stranger to walk through or waiting for John to return and pick up where they'd left off—some battle of wits, no doubt. His posture was tense, as though any moment could break the fragile peace that had settled between us. I leaned back against the edge of the pool, letting the water rise slightly as I sank lower, my chest now submerged in the warmth. The water was comforting, but there was a heaviness in the air that I couldn’t shake.

“He’s an ass, don’t let him get under your skin—or, uh, scales,” I said, trying to inject some levity into the conversation. But even I knew how lame it sounded. Still, it felt important to say it, to reassure him. Arthur's silence was almost suffocating, and I wondered if he even understood the weight of the words I spoke. Was it possible to explain something like that to a being whose species was so vastly different from my own?

It was still surreal to be conversing with a creature like Arthur, an entirely new species that I’d only ever heard whispered about in stories. If word got out about his existence, would the world demand to know every detail of our conversations? Would people try to study him, dissect every interaction like some scientific experiment? Would Arthur ever trust anyone enough to open up to them, or was it always going to be just me?

There was something so human about the way he spoke—his cadence, his pauses, even the faint traces of emotion in his voice—but at the same time, it was undeniably alien. His accent, no doubt learned from his captors, added a rough edge to his speech, but it wasn’t just that. His voice held an animalistic undertone, as if the words were trapped behind sharp teeth, struggling to find their way out. Some of his syllables seemed to catch, like they couldn’t make it past the sharp points of his canines. Others came out incomplete, slipping through his gills before they could fully form. And then there were the growls, the hisses, and the purring—subtle sounds that humans certainly didn’t make.

I closed my eyes and let my head fall back against the edge of the pool, rolling my neck to ease the strain in my muscles. I needed a moment to center myself, to shake off the weight of the day. It felt like the world around me was pressing in, and I just wanted to breathe, to reset. For a while, the only sound was the gentle splash of water as Arthur remained still, his gaze still locked on the door.

After a beat, as if confirming the coast was clear, Arthur spoke again.

“He’s afraid of me,” he said, the words rough but certain.

I mulled this over for a moment, considering the layers beneath his statement. “Well, I wouldn’t say afraid,” I replied, my voice soft but thoughtful. “Definitely a bit anxious, though. He’s... not used to things like you.”

Arthur tilted his head slightly, the faintest flicker of something I couldn’t quite read crossing his expression. It wasn’t a smile, exactly, but it was a subtle shift, a hint of self-awareness.

“Anxious, huh?” he mused, as if testing the word on his tongue. Then he shook his head, as though he was finding some small amusement in it all. “So that’s what I smelled on him.”

Smelled? I jerked my head, gods above. I was so quick to forget I was talking to someone that was more animal than human. I shouldn't be surprised he could smell the chemical changes in emotions. 

Arthur swam toward me, his body gliding through the water with an effortless grace, coming to a stop just inches away. My pulse quickened, the proximity sending a jolt of heat rushing through me. He was so close now that I could feel the warmth radiating from his chest, a slow, steady heat that seemed to pulse in rhythm with the beat of his twin hearts. His skin, still slick with water, shimmered in the soft light, every movement stirring the surface around us. I could almost taste the closeness of him—the way his warmth mingled with the coolness of the water between us.

He was propped up on his tail, using it like a seat, the motion fluid and powerful. The way his tail coiled reminded me of a serpent, sleek and dangerous, its strength hiding in every subtle shift. I could feel the silk like tendrils of his tail fin tickle my feet. It reminded me of just how massive he was, how he towered over me even submerged in the water. I could feel the weight of him without him even needing to touch me, a presence that filled the space and consumed my thoughts.

Hell, if he moved any closer, his hips would be flush against mine. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, my body instinctively responding to the proximity, to the heat of him. The space between us felt charged, thick with something unspoken, and yet, I couldn’t look away. I was caught in the gravity of him, the tension hanging between us like a thread waiting to snap.

I let out a nervous chuckle, trying—and failing—to keep the air light. “John’s been known to skip a wash. You’re probably catching a whiff—”

Whatever composure I had shattered the instant Arthur leaned in, his head dipping into the crook of my neck.

A sharp jolt of electricity shot through me as the tip of his claw ghosted over my skin, pushing my hair aside with agonizing slowness. My breath hitched. The warmth of him was palpable now, his chest so close that I could feel the steady rhythm of his twin hearts. The faint rush of water against my skin wasn’t just from the pool—it was from him, the movement of his gills as he exhaled, hot and damp against my throat.

Was he—was he smelling me?

A familiar heat curled low in my stomach, an unwanted but undeniable thought slithering its way into my mind. What would his tongue feel like there? Would it be rough or impossibly soft? What would the ridges be like? Would he taste me the way predators do, slow and deliberate, savoring the sensation?

“I never smelled fear on you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. The words were felt more than heard, vibrating against the sensitive skin of my neck.

I swallowed hard, my pulse hammering beneath his breath. I should pull away. I should put space between us. But I didn’t. Instead, I tilted my head slightly, unconsciously giving him more access to the most vital spot on my body. Blood rushed to my head, hot and quick making me feel dizzy. 

“Should I be afraid of you, Arthur?” My voice came out steadier than I expected, but there was no denying the weight behind the question.

Arthur hesitated. He pulled back slightly, and already I mourned the loss of his warmth. But before I could process the absence, he shifted again, bringing his face to mere inches from mine.

His pupils had expanded, swallowing the blue of his irises in deep, endless black. I swore I could see my own reflection in them, distorted like a black mirror, the water between us barely disguising the intensity of his gaze.

“I’ve hurt people,” he admitted, his voice lower now, quiet with something that almost sounded like regret. The confession sat heavy in the space between us, thick and unspoken for a long moment before he added, softer still, “I hurt you. And still, you don’t fear me.”

I took a slow, deliberate breath. That’s what this is about.

I lifted my chin slightly, meeting his gaze with renewed steadiness. “It was an accident,” I countered, my voice stronger now, more assured in our proximity. “You acted on instinct. I don’t hold it against you in the slightest.”

Arthur studied me, his lips parting slightly as if he had more to say, something deeper, something unspoken that lingered between us like the charged air before a lightning strike. But instead, he remained still, watching, waiting—his breath fanning softly against my lips, close enough that if I shifted even an inch, we would…

I forced myself to exhale. I wasn’t afraid of him. But maybe, I should have been.

My hands remained beneath the water, hidden between us as I moved with deliberate slowness. Tentatively, I let my fingertips trail up his side, barely skimming the surface of his skin. The warmth of him was staggering, a stark contrast against the cool air above the water, and as my fingers passed over the ridges of his ribs, I swore I could feel his breath hitch.

Then, I touched his gills.

They were unlike anything I had ever felt—soft, impossibly delicate, like wet velvet beneath my fingertips. The moment I brushed against them, a shudder rippled through Arthur’s body, his muscles tightening beneath my touch as he exhaled a breath that was more of a shiver.

His head dipped toward mine, lips parting ever so slightly, as though he were preparing to steal the very air from my lungs. The space between us grew impossibly small, the tension thrumming so thick it felt like it could snap at any moment. My breath stilled, mirroring his as I tilted my chin up, parting my lips just enough, as if my body already knew what came next.

He was so close I swore he could feel the pounding of my heart against my ribs, rolling in like thunder, wild and unrestrained.

But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t close the distance.

A part of me trembled with nerves, another with anticipation, and gods above—I was aroused. That insatiable warmth coiled low in my belly, twisting into something tight and aching between my legs, something that burned hotter with every second we lingered in this breathless moment.

Before I could stop myself, the words tumbled past my lips, my voice barely louder than a whisper. “What do I smell like?”

Arthur inhaled, and for a moment, I swore he was tasting the question as much as hearing it. His pupils, already large from our proximity, expanded even more, turning his eyes into endless black pools. His gills flared around his neck, and that soft bioluminescent glow flickered to life, melting between us like sunlight dissolving into the ocean depths.

“Sweet,” he murmured, voice deep and thick with something unreadable. “Like those little noises you make when I touch you.”

A sharp inhale caught in my throat, and it was only then that I realized—somewhere in the span of our conversation, he had trapped me against the edge of the pool. His arms caged me in, hands planted on either side of me, his body close enough that the water between us felt inconsequential.

And then, as if to prove his point, he dragged the back of his knuckles slowly up my bare arm, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. A small, breathy sound slipped past my lips before I could stop it, a sound that felt dangerously close to a whimper.

Arthur responded immediately.

That sound—my sound—triggered something deep within him.

A low, rolling purr rumbled from his chest, vibrating through the water between us, and fuck—I felt it between my legs. The sensation was subtle yet devastating, a deep, resonant hum that sent warmth curling through my spine, pooling where I ached for something I couldn't name.

His eyes never left mine as he leaned in just enough to brush his lips against my ear, voice dipping lower, rougher, when he added, “And musky… unlike anything I’ve ever tasted before.”

My breath hitched.

He—he could smell my musk?

No. Scratch that.

He could taste it?

My body tensed, heat flashing beneath my skin as I stared at him, equal parts mortified and breathlessly aroused. But Arthur only smirked, that damned knowing smirk, like he could read exactly what was running through my head.

And gods help me, I wanted him to. 

I suddenly felt like my own body had betrayed me, my hormones conspiring against logic, against reason. Of course I should have known his senses of smell and taste were intertwined, that he could sense me in ways no human ever could. The thought sent another wave of heat rushing through me, pooling low in my belly, coiling tighter between my legs. Hell, I was probably saturating the water with it by now.

Arthur breathed in deeply, his pupils darkened, a limitless sea of midnight, his lips curling into a grin that was nothing short of sinful. He was taunting me, reading my every thought, my every flustered attempt to gain control over my body and the way it ached for something I couldn’t deny with words. His gills flared beneath my fingertips, the movement almost instinctual, a silent plea or perhaps a challenge.

I took it.

Slipping my fingers beneath the delicate slits, I stroked the silky underside of his gills, and oh. They were impossibly soft, like the gentlest brush of a cloud against my skin, warm and slick beneath my touch. The sensation sent a shiver down my spine, but it was nothing compared to his reaction.

Arthur shuddered.

A low, guttural sound tore from his throat, thick with raw need, and his hips rolled forward, pressing flush against mine. The friction sent a bolt of fire through me, my breath catching as every nerve in my body ignited all at once.

The sound that followed was entrancing—his siren song. A deep, desperate groan that rumbled from his chest, vibrating through the water, through me. It was the kind of sound that spoke of hunger, of instinct, of a need so primal it threatened to consume him whole.

And gods help me, I had never wanted something so badly in my life.

I was utterly breathless at the sight of him. This massive, magnificent creature curling into me, arching into my touch as if my fingers on his gills were the only thing that mattered to him. His tail lashed through the water, powerful and restless, the motion sending small ripples over my skin, like even the sea itself responded to him.

My hands trembled slightly, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I caught the edge of one of his frills between my fingers, rolling it gently, reverently, sliding my touch up and down like I would a length of the finest silk.

Arthur groaned again, this time deeper, rougher, pulled from somewhere inside the hollow of his belly. His hand shot down, wrapping around my wrist—not to stop me, but to hold me there, to keep me touching him, to anchor himself in the sensation.

He was unraveling beneath me. And part of me wanted to see how far he could go.

Pressed against his chest, I could feel the steady, powerful rhythm of his twin hearts drumming beneath my fingertips, their pace betraying just how much I was affecting him. His hips rutted into mine again, slow but deliberate, and then—I felt it.

A more…private appendage that had been tucked inside his body. It was new. And strangely different.

A firm hardness pressed against me, emerging from beneath his scales—hidden before, but now unmistakable. Heat coiled low in my stomach as realization dawned, my breath hitching as I instinctively glanced down.

Below his slit, I noticed a subtle shift in his body, the scales parting, revealing something I hadn’t seen before. A new opening, a previously concealed gap where something more was stirring to life.

Arthur let out a sound between a growl and a groan, thick with something raw and unfiltered, and then—he said my name. Low, guttural, almost pained.

“You have no idea what this does to me.” His breath came fast and uneven, each exhale warming my already feverish skin.

His eyes snapped open then, locking onto mine with an expression so intense it stole the air from my lungs. It wasn’t just need, though that was certainly there—dark, all-consuming, a hunger I wasn’t sure he could tame. But beneath the desperation, I caught something else. Fear. Anticipation.

Like he was waiting to see what I would do next.

Like he was afraid of what he might do if I didn’t stop him.

And suddenly, the weight of it all came crashing down on me.

Only hours ago, my curious fingers had been teasing his entrance, innocent in my exploration. And now—oh shit. Did he think I was offering myself to him? That I was trying to mate with him? I had no idea what their rituals even entailed, had I crossed a line? Could we…would our bodies…fit? 

I wasn’t even sure myself why I had done it. I had gotten so wrapped up in him. In the way he looked, the way he sounded, the way his body responded to my touch as if I was the only thing anchoring him to this world.

And yet…

If we were in another time, another place, another body—maybe then, I wouldn’t have stopped myself. Maybe then, I would have indulged in the darker curiosities swirling through my mind.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, though I wasn’t entirely sure why I said it. Was I apologizing for touching him? For stopping? For stirring something between us that neither of us fully understood? 

Was I sorry for being the one to rescue him? That John had called me and not one of the other girls? Would it have been easier if someone else had taken my place—if I had never been the one to pull Arthur from the brink?

Or was I sorry for something else entirely?

Sorry that I couldn’t seem to define the ache growing inside me, the pull that had started as fascination but was quickly morphing into something far, far more dangerous. Sorry that I couldn’t understand why his fixation on me felt almost equal to my own fixation on him.

Two creatures, worlds apart, dipping their fingers into a current so strong it threatened to pull us under the tide.

And I was starting to wonder if I wanted to come up for air.

All I knew was that, in this moment, I had tangled myself—and this poor, beautiful creature—into a storm of confusion and frustration, and heaven help me, I wasn’t sure how to unravel it.

My voice came softer this time, barely more than a breath.

“I’m so sorry.”

* ‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍̊

Charles pulled off his blue latex gloves with a practiced flick, sending them sailing through the air before they landed neatly in the waste bin. The movement was effortless, second nature, as he busied himself with tidying up his medical tools, the clink of metal against metal filling the otherwise quiet room.

“His wound is healing nicely—much faster than I expected. Though, if I had known he had accelerated healing, I probably wouldn’t have bothered with the stitches,” he chuckled, shaking his head like he still couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

“You did the right thing, Charles,” I reassured him, my voice softer than I intended. “He was going to bleed out if you and Lenny hadn’t done something.”

Charles hummed in agreement, but my focus had already drifted back to Arthur.

He lay stretched out on the examination table, his massive form suspended just above the water level of the pool. The setup was temporary—meant for quick assessments, not extended stays—but he looked tense, his muscles rigid beneath his slick, bioluminescent skin.

When Charles had arrived shortly after our… moment… it had taken a considerable amount of coaxing on my part to get Arthur to emerge from the shadows curling along the edges of the pool. The morning sun had shifted, casting longer streaks of light through the skylight, but Arthur had lingered in the dim corners, watching warily as Charles entered.

At first, I thought it was fear that kept him hiding, but then—I caught the subtle cues, the tiny tells I had grown so accustomed to. The way his gills fluttered unevenly, the way his tail curled slightly around himself, not in defense, but in something almost vulnerable. Embarrassment. Shame.

Guilt churned hot and thick in my stomach.

Had I ruined something between us?

He had been so open with me, so trusting, letting me touch him, explore him in a way that was undoubtedly intimate. And I—I had let my own selfish curiosity, my treacherous, hormone-addled body, lead us somewhere neither of us had been prepared for. Had I confused him? Frustrated him?

Stars above, had I hurt him?

The sickening thought settled deep in my gut like a stone. The last thing I ever wanted was to make him feel used. To make him feel exploited—like the men who had stripped him of his autonomy, who had treated him as nothing more than a tool, a resource to be controlled.

I swallowed against the rising nausea and cast a glance at the clock on the wall. Early afternoon. I had spent nearly the entire morning in the water, and my body was starting to feel the effects—my fingers had pruned, my skin tight and dry from the salt. And god, I was hungry.

As if sensing my growing exhaustion, Charles threw me a lifeline.

“I’ve got a few more patients to check on after this, then I’m heading home for the day. You want me to give you a ride to Clemens Cove so you can get your truck?”

And some rest.

He didn’t say those words outright, but they hung unspoken between us. His offer was casual, lighthearted, but I caught the concern beneath it—the way his gaze lingered on the fatigue etched into my features, the way his tone softened just enough to let me know he noticed.

And honestly? I wasn’t about to argue.

I nodded, exhaling a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “That would be much appreciated. I was worried I’d have to walk back.”

Charles cocked an eyebrow, his lips tugging into a playful smirk. “Now, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let a lady wander halfway across town after the day you’ve had? Besides,” he added, giving me an exaggerated once-over, “you look about two steps away from passing out, and I’d really rather not have to explain to Hosea why I found you face-down in a ditch.”

A tired chuckle escaped me, shaking some of the tension from my shoulders. “Well, when you put it like that…”

His grin widened, warm and genuine. Charles was an undeniably handsome man—everyone could see that. His soft brown eyes held an innate kindness, warm and rich like melted chocolate, but there was strength behind them too. When he gave orders during an emergency rescue or a high-pressure surgery, his voice boomed, steady and commanding, filling the room with an authority no one dared question. But there was another side to him as well—the one that spoke softly to the children who came through on educational tours, explaining things in a way that made their eyes light up with curiosity. The voice that turned gentle when he muttered to himself while solving a problem, focused but never frustrated.

Charles was smart. Resourceful. A quiet force, yet one that commanded respect without ever demanding it.

My friendship with him was different than my friendship with John. John and I pestered each other like siblings, always quick with a sarcastic remark, always toeing the line between playful bickering and actual affection. But at the end of the day, we had each other’s backs like family.

With Charles, it was something else entirely. Easier, in some ways. More complicated in others.

He had been my mentor when I first started working here, the person I turned to when I felt out of my depth. But beyond that, he was a friend in the truest sense—someone who listened without judgment, someone who understood without needing every detail explained.

And right now, as exhaustion pulled heavy at my limbs, that understanding meant everything.

The gentle clinking of medical tools brought me back to the present. Charles was sifting through a tray, his fingers moving methodically over the various packets of needle tips, checking their gauge and length with practiced efficiency. I watched as he selected one, examined it under the light, then clicked his tongue and tossed it back, continuing his search.

“Everything alright over there, Captain?” I teased, the old nickname slipping out with ease. It came from the early days, back when he’d take me out on his boat to assist with rescues and releases, back when everything felt simpler—before this.

A few strands of black hair had slipped free from his bun, framing his sharp features as he glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah. Just looking for a needle that’ll penetrate his skin. I want to collect a few blood samples and run some tests on that mucilage you told me about earlier.”

I barely had time to process his words before Arthur moved.

He bolted upright on the table so suddenly that I jerked back, the water sloshing around me as my footing slipped. My stomach twisted, not just from the shock of his reaction, but from the raw, breathless panic in his voice.

“I ain’t doin’ more tests,” he said, his chest heaving, pupils blown wide.

Shit.

“Easy, Arthur,” I soothed instinctively, lifting a hand as if to calm a wild animal. “They won’t hurt, just a quick pinch.”

But the moment the words left my lips, I regretted them.

I had been so caught up in trying to reassure him, in trying to help, that I had completely forgotten why this would send him into a tailspin.

Arthur’s jaw clenched, his body going rigid. “I been pinched enough,” he snarled, his voice thick with something bitter and laced with old wounds. His gills flared, sharp and aggressive, and when he spoke again, his tone was low, dangerous, vibrating with barely-contained fury. “I’m not givin’ you blood, or anythin’ from me!”

The air in the room thickened, the tension snapping tight like a riptide, pulling everything under in an instant. His body was coiled, wound so tight with fury that it seemed ready to burst. Every muscle in his frame tensed, his gills flaring wide like a warning. The unspoken threat in his posture hung heavy in the air, a low, menacing hum that made my breath catch in my throat.

A dreadful thought clawed at the back of my mind, growing louder with every second.

Could he be pushed past the brink?

Had he felt this kind of rage before? The kind that came when he was captured, when he fought for his freedom? His words echoed in my head, his voice haunted by something darker. 

I’ve hurt people.

My stomach twisted violently as the terrifying question ripped through my thoughts.

Did he kill his captors?

The weight of the possibility hung in the room like a shadow. As if the earth itself could sense his turmoil as a dark cloud rolled over the sun, shrouding the room in a dark gray light. 

Would he do it again? Would he lash out, and if so, at me? I could see the storm in his eyes, and the way his breath came in short, sharp bursts told me he was on the edge of losing control. It was as though I was standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for something—anything—to tip him over the edge.

Charles, to his credit, remained calm. He didn’t back away, didn’t flinch, but his expression softened just enough to show he was trying to level with him. “Arthur,” he said evenly, “I have no idea what I’m working with here. I can’t give you the proper care if I don’t know what’s going on inside your body. You need to let me study you first.”

The words struck a nerve.

Arthur’s body tensed, his muscles convulsing like he was preparing to strike. His fins flared—all of them. The ones along his arms and head, the ones that normally lay flat against his body, had risen in a display I had never seen before. And they were pointed. Perilous. 

Then, something new happened.

Arthur opened his mouth, but what came out wasn’t English. Wasn’t human human speech. 

A string of guttural, unfamiliar words spilled into the air, rough and raw like stones grinding against the ocean floor. The sound was deep, layered, yet there was something melodic buried beneath the harshness, something that almost resembled a song.

I froze.

Was this his natural language?

Arthur’s chest rose and fell, his throat working as he spoke in that strange, haunting cadence, his bioluminescent veins pulsing faintly as if responding to the rhythm of his voice. My heart pounded as I watched, transfixed, completely unprepared for the deep ache that curled through my gut at the realization—

This was something ancient. Something that belonged to him. To his kind.

And for the first time, I wasn’t sure if I was meant to hear it.

Charles shot me a brief glance, his eyes cautious as he registered my intent. I could see the hesitation in his gaze, but I mouthed the words, I’ll be okay, go, and a quiet understanding passed between us. I tilted my head toward the door, an unspoken trust settling over the room like a heavy blanket. He nodded, not questioning me, as he packed his tools and made his way out of the pool, leaving us alone.

Arthur’s eyes followed Charles as he left, but his anger didn’t fade. Instead, it simmered, a storm still roiling beneath the surface. His dark blue eyes locked onto mine, pupils narrowed to razor-thin slits. The intensity in his gaze felt like it could cut through me, a searing heat that left me breathless, almost paralyzed.

I took a tentative step toward him, my hand reaching out slowly, almost instinctively. To my surprise, he spoke again, his voice thick with panic.

“I—I don’t want to be studied,” he stammered, the words tumbling out in a rush, tinged with fear and raw emotion.

I softened my voice, offering him the calm he so desperately needed. “Then we won’t study you, honey.”

But it wasn’t enough. His walls were still up, defenses razor-sharp. “You gonna chain me up?” He shot back, his voice harsh, laced with bitterness. “Poke me and shock me till I can’t fight back? Cage me here ‘till you get your fill of research?”

I was close now, close enough that I could see the tremors in his frame, the way his muscles tightened beneath his scales. My heart ached for him, for the torment he’d endured. But I also knew I had to find a way to reach him, to calm the storm inside him before it tore us both apart.

I let my hand slide gently up the smooth, hard length of his tail, cautious but tender. The warmth of him was intoxicating, a pull that made my chest tighten, but I kept my touch steady, moving with reverence. I avoided the sharp fins that had risen along his hips, the ones I hadn’t noticed before—pointed and rigid, like a warning.

“I would never,” I said the last word with as much severity as I could muster, my voice low and unwavering. “Do you remember what I said to you last night, and again this morning?”

I knew the memory of my words would be enough to give him a moment of pause. I needed him to breathe, to step away from the raw edge of his rage.

I slid my hands further up his body, feeling the heat of his skin under my fingertips. Slowly, I placed my hands beneath his palm. His webbed fingers curled around mine immediately, the gesture instinctual and comforting. He was still trembling, but the tension in his muscles eased just slightly.

“These hands…” I began softly, giving him the space to finish the sentence himself.

A long, shaky breath escaped him, and for a moment, I thought I’d lost him. But then, his gills flared gently, settling back down as he found his ground again. His voice, when it came, was softer, quieter, almost reverent.

“…would never hurt you.”

“That’s right,” I said, my voice barely a whisper, a weary smile tugging at the corner of my lips. His words, though simple, soothed something deep inside me. I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed to hear that, needed to know that this—whatever this was between us—wasn’t one-sided, wasn’t born from a place of control.

But even as I smiled, the exhaustion hit me all at once. A yawn escaped me before I could stifle it, the weariness of the day creeping up on me like a tide pulling me under. His outburst had drained the last of my energy, and I longed for the comfort of dry clothes and the soft embrace of my bed.

Gods, it had been a long day.

Once I was certain that Arthur’s anger had settled, I moved to help him slide off the exam table. As I shifted it out of the way, I couldn’t shake the weight of everything that had transpired. How the hell had we gotten here?

“I’m really sorry about all of this, Arthur,” I murmured softly, my voice tender as I spoke the words. “You’ve been through so much already... I never meant to cause you more stress.” The sincerity in my tone was almost palpable, a quiet ache threading through my chest as I looked at him.

He didn’t answer, but instead ducked beneath the surface of the water, his sleek body gliding effortlessly through the pool. His tail flicked powerfully, sending waves crashing against the sides, as though he was trying to burn off all the remaining energy, the anger still simmering beneath his skin. I could feel the pull of his restlessness, a quiet undercurrent to everything he did. He needs more space. The thought hit me like a sudden revelation, and I knew then that this was only temporary. His body wasn’t built for such small confines. He needed room to move, room to breathe.

He surfaced again, shaking the water from his hair and glancing at me with that familiar, guarded expression. “John should have everything ready for you soon,” I said, my voice warm, reassuring. “You’ll have more room to swim. Places to hide, if you choose. And I’ll talk to Kieran about getting you some food.”

I was about to step out of  the pool, but before I could even walk away, something cool, slick, and strong wrapped around my ankle.

Arthur.

I froze, the contact sparking an electric pulse that made my heart race. I looked down, and for the briefest of moments, I could swear there was a hint of something innocent in the way he held me—something that didn’t belong in the immense creature I had come to know.

“You’re leaving?” His voice, thick and uncertain, carried through the stillness.

My heart squeezed as I looked back at him. There he was, his large frame hovering in the water, but his expression was so vulnerable, so human, for lack of a better word. His gaze softened with a trace of something almost sad, and god, if sirens could pout, this one was certainly pouting.

“I’ll be back in the morning, honey,” I explained, trying to sound as reassuring as I could. I gave him a small smile, hoping it would settle him, but even I wasn’t sure it would. He needed comfort, but I needed to calm my own turbulent thoughts. “I need to get some sleep.”

He nodded ever so slightly, the gesture almost imperceptible, before finally releasing me. The warmth of his grip slipped away, leaving me feeling hollow for a second. I walked toward the wet mat, grabbing the towel that hung on the wall, preparing to leave the pool and head to the locker room when I heard his voice call my name again.

“Hmm?” I called, surprised by the soft note in his voice. I turned back, still rubbing the towel through my wet hair, waiting for him to speak.

“Do you have a mate?”

The question hit me like a splash of cold water. It left me blinking, caught completely off guard. “I—do I have a what?”

His massive figure loomed there, suddenly seeming so small in the vast space of the pool. His head dipped as if to hide the uncertainty on his face. “Are—are you spoken for?” he asked again, his tone now tinged with a kind of nervousness I hadn’t expected from him.

The silence between us deepened, stretching long and heavy, as my mind tried to wrap around the weight of his words. He was asking if I had a partner. If I was dating anyone. My breath caught. Why would he want to know this? I felt the heat of a thousand questions rise to my lips, but none of them felt right.

Before I could speak, Arthur muttered something under his breath, and in that moment, his voice cracked just slightly, like a raw edge exposed. “Forget it.”

With a swift, graceful movement, he slipped back beneath the water, vanishing from sight.

No, I don’t.

The words hovered on the tip of my tongue as I stared at the spot where he had disappeared. The urge to reach out, to tell him that no, I wasn’t spoken for, that there was nothing tying me to anyone else, was almost overpowering. But I stood there, feeling my heart pounding in my chest, watching the water ripple in his wake.

I couldn’t chase him. 

Not yet.

AN: I love this silly little sea boy. Next chapter is gonna include his pov because I feel like everyone deserves to know what's going through his head right now. Poor thing is so horny and scared, and you know what, me too Arthur. Me too.

I'm blown away by the love and feedback I've received for this so far. I genuinely though this would be something that stayed hidden in the deep dark caves of the fandom ocean. But here we are, thank you so so much for reading. It warms my little monsterfucker heart <3

[photo1030]

Anonymous asked:

Heyy , so i had this smut idea for a while now, but bare with me please cuz my English isn’t that good lol . Anyway it’s about arthur and f!reader who’s been teasing arthur with a lot of touches and stares all day. But they were all busy that day so nothing happened. Then at the end of the day arthur finally got to be with her alone to sort things out (if you know what i mean) and confront her.

Ik … not very fluent in English lol , but I really really LOVE your writing so i figured i should maybe request something

Hello again, my lovely Anon!

Thank you for the "ask"! This was certainly a fun one to write out. I wasn't sure if you wanted Arthur and reader to be friends with longing tendencies, or in an existing relationship. I went with the latter. Hopefully that is okay. Either way, it ends up with some steamy goodness. If you need it tweaked the other way, let me know.

LEATHER AND LACE - CLOSE, BUT NOT CLOSE ENOUGH

Summary: You and Arthur have been trying to get some time alone together all day, to no avail. But by the end of the day, Arthur finally gets what he wants.

Warning: 18+ please. Minors - DNI; NSFW

*This is not my image. I have found it posted on multiple pages on Pintrest but can't find the originator. If anyone knows, let me know for specific photo credit.

Masterlist

The early morning sun tries to cut its way into the woods, cutting the dewy mist with its beams of warm, golden light. The burgeoning glow sets the birds into motion, their busy little chirps filling the brisk air around the camp. 

You are dead tired this morning. It was a long, hard day of chores yesterday and when you had turned in for the night, all you wanted to do was rest your weary head on that lumpy pillow of yours atop of that squeaky cot. And with all of the hustling and work lately, Arthur was hoping to have a little “private time” with you last night, too. 

But much to his disappointment, you had already passed out the moment your head hit the pillow, already fast asleep before he could even get his boots off. So with a sigh and just a bit of frustration, Arthur lumbered onto the cot next to you for the night. 

So this morning, you are reluctant to crack open your eyes when the feeling of Arthur’s heavy arm makes its way around your waist, slowly exploring your midsection and creeping up to your breast with his fingertips. His chest is pressed up against your back as he spoons you tightly to him, his skin radiating a comforting heat that sinks down through your skin and into the very center of your body. You can already feel his half-erect cock finding its place against the bottom of your rear. 

In this precious little moment, you are faced with a “difficult” decision:  do you try to get some very much-needed sleep? Or do you give in to the temptation of your beloved outlaw? 

“G’ Mornin’, Darlin’”

His low, raspy voice, cracked with remnants of sleep, floats its way into your ear and breaks through your mind’s thoughts…and that is all it takes for you to decide. A smile slowly emerges across your face without you even opening your eyes. 

“Good morning to you too, my lover.” You playfully reach up to encircle your arm around his head, turning your face back towards his. Your greeting is met with a simple low groan of approval as Arthur’s lips seek out the cuff of your ear. 

You gently roll over onto your back, looking up into his awaiting face. His hair is rumpled from the night and his eyes are still heavy-lidded with fatigue. Yet those eyes still sparkle like the bluest sky as they meet your own. And your heart could burst at how that is the first thing you get to see in the morning.

He leans down to gently catch your lips into a kiss. It’s the first of many to come for the day, knowing you two. You push your body upwards to flatten against his, your leg bending up to entwine with his burly ones. A soft giggle emanates from your throat as you deepen the kiss and run your hand along his cheek and up behind his head to pull him down to you. Arthur is quick to roll himself to climb over you, settling himself between your spread legs. Your lips press together, repeatedly working over the other’s as his hands begin to explore along your chest, grappling at the tender flesh there.

You lift your hips just a bit in invitation as Arthur rocks back and forth ever so slightly. Your eyes roll back as your fingertips drag along the thick muscles of his back, trailing through the soft body hair that scatters across his wide frame. 

“Arthur? You in there?”

Your eyes shoot wide open, instantly snapped out of your blissful reverie at the deep-sounding voice coming from the other side of your shared tent. Arthur seems to be oblivious to the intrusion at first as his motions atop of you do not slow down in the slightest. 

“Arthur?” the voice repeats.

Finally, Arthur collects his thoughts enough to respond.

“Go away, Bill,” mumbles Arthur, pausing in his administrations only long enough to warn the burly man outside the canvas, as he has no intention of stopping right now. 

“There’s a group of us heading out. Got a tip on a stagecoach coming through.” Bill pushes insistently. “Come on, we gotta go.” 

“Not now, Bill!” barks Arthur as he keeps kissing you, his teeth nipping at the tender skin of your neck and collarbone. 

You are trying not to focus on the fact that someone is not only outside your tent at this inopportune moment, but actually having a conversation with Arthur as his erect cock is rubbing against your aching heat, mere moments away from being embedded into the warm cradle between your legs. 

“Well, Dutch is askin’ for you. So what do you want me to tell him, then?” Bill asks impatiently.

“Bill!” you suddenly snap, lifting your head to turn your burning gaze over Arthur’s broad shoulder towards the tent flap. “If you do not walk away from this tent right now, so help me God…!”

“Oh!” Bill’s eyes open wide and his face suddenly turns beet-red as the realization of what he is interrupting becomes all too clear. “Oh, sorry! I’ll..uh…come back, I guess.” He snickers as he abruptly turns to hurry-off back to the waiting group. 

An exasperated sigh pushes out of your nose as your head plunks back against the pillow. Arthur has finally stopped the amorous actions, but still lays overtop of you, motionless and reluctant to move. 

“Well, that just killed the mood,” you huff, noting how Arthur’s face has turned down into a hard frown. 

Arthur takes a deep breath to steady himself. “I know I said I can never leave the gang, but there’s moments like this that I am open to the discussion.”

“Don’t tease me, now,” you warn as a tiny grin creeps its way across your lips. Arthur just rolls his eyes and sits up, playfully pushing your legs to the side so he can sit at the edge of the cot to get himself dressed. 

Back at the hitching posts, Bill approaches the waiting group with a smirk on his face, shaking his head. 

“Where’s Arthur?” asks Dutch impatiently, his gaze looking past Bill’s shoulder when he does not see the man in question in attendance. “You were supposed to go get him.”

“He’s…uh…busy at the moment.” Bill offers this obscure excuse to the men with a quirked eyebrow.

Dutch’s ringed hands land on his hips, his impatience growing by the minute. “Busy doing what, exactly?”

“More like, busy doing who?” chuckles Bill. 

It only takes Dutch a moment to realize what Bill is talking about before his dark eyes roll to the heavens. “Oh, for Christ’s sake…”

—-----------------------------------------

Fortunately, the coach job didn’t take too long. Arthur had begrudgingly pulled himself from your warm and loving arms to drudge over to join his companions. He got a good ribbing from the men, as was expected, but all it did was aggravate his already irritable demeanor. He wanted to spend the morning buried between your legs in his tent, not between Bill and John on their smelly horses.

By the time the men get back to camp, you and the other girls are already embedded into more chores. Seems there is always something to do. In fact, the moment he gets back to camp and unpacked, Ms. Grimshaw is quick to get Arthur to the wood pile, stating that the firewood is already low again. He shoots you a quick glance, your eyes meeting briefly across the camp, before giving her an exasperated sigh as he reluctantly heads over to the ax to get started.  

As you work with your needle and thread to mend shirts and darn socks, you delightfully treat yourself to observe Arthur as he chops the firewood. His strong arms slam the ax down onto the chunks of timber, causing them to splinter in his wake. His muscled arms flex with each blow, his wide shoulders set beautifully with each stroke. His burly legs set into a wide stance, the tendons there rippling beneath the fabric of his trousers with each jarring blow. 

The sight of it makes your heart race so fast that it skips a beat in your chest, knowing that this hulking man belongs to you. Your legs involuntarily cross and squeeze your thighs in an attempt to contain your arousal, a feeling that has yet to be quelled since your abrupt separation this morning. You try to finish your mending as quickly as you can so that you can steal away to go over there. 

“Hey, you,” you call to Arthur as you eventually saunter over, swinging your hips with a cheshire-cat-like grin on your face. 

Arthur lifts his head as he tosses a heavy piece of wood as if it were feather-light. The second his irritable eyes land on your beautiful form floating towards him, the tension melts away from his weathered face. He stands up straight, grinning from ear to ear. “Hey, you.”

You hand him a cup of cool water, which he gratefully accepts as your fingers linger across his knuckles like an ivy vine. You intently watch him as he gulps the refreshing liquid down, observing how his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. God, how you want to plant your lips all over his neck right now. You shift your weight from hip to hip and bite your bottom lip as you watch him.

You step up even closer, bumping your hip into his and giving him that look. Arthur looks at you with intrigue. He swipes the back of his gloved hand across his mouth, wiping away the water droplets that escaped his lips. He dips his head to kiss you, but halts mid-stride when you hear Ms. Grimshaw’s shrill voice hollering for you from across the camp. 

“Y/N! Quit foolin’ around with Arthur and get over here! I ain’t done with you yet!” You and Arthur turn your heads to see the woman standing in the clearing, arms crossed and face twisted up in annoyance.

“You gotta be kiddin’ me,” Arthur mutters. He turns back to you and the disappointment is plain on your face. You could be off wrapping your legs around this man’s waist, but no. You are needed elsewhere…to stitch holes in socks. 

—------------------------------------

And so it goes for the rest of the day. It's as if the universe is purposely trying to keep you and Arthur apart. But Ms. Grimshaw is shrewd. Normally, you and Arthur can get a lot of work done when paired together. But when the two of you are acting more flirtatious than usual, the only way she can get anything done is to completely separate the two of you. Like wound-up teenagers, you and Arthur are known to play around and get distracted, sometimes even disappearing altogether. So the matriarch has been keen to assign you tasks on opposite sides of the camp. 

Seeing an opportunity to catch you alone, Arthur comes up to you while you’re cooking. You are over at the food wagon, stirring the heavy cast-iron pot for tonight’s dinner when you hear the grass and leaves crunching behind you. You don’t even have to turn around to know he’s behind you, as the scent of leather and cigarettes, mingled with clove, permeates your senses. It’s a familiar fragrance that will immediately set your mind to race, making your blood run hot. 

Arthur pushes his chest up against your back just enough to create that electricity. You suck your lip in between your teeth to silence any wanton noise that would be in danger of bubbling up from your throat. You turn your head slightly to the side, catching the pale blue color of his faded work shirt as he runs a single finger down the length of your arm.

“Ah, Mr. Morgan, there you are! I haven’t seen you all day.” Mr. Pearson suddenly appears out from behind the wagon with an armload of ingredients for you to cut and chop for tonight’s stew. 

“Glad you’re here! Listen, did I ever tell you about the time I got into a fist-fight with a fella from town? He was an honest-to-God boxer. But I was too quick for him, you see. It was a good fight, too.”

Mr. Pearson is so wrapped up in his own story that the disappointed groan that comes from you goes unnoticed. Arthur’s brow settles into a hard, dangerous frown again. If it wouldn’t land him a stinging slap upside the head from Ms. Grimshaw, he’d land his fist in the portly man’s face just to shut him up. On and on Pearson goes, excited to have a captive audience for his rambling. You try your best to be polite and smile and nod along, but Arthur has never been one for social etiquette and quickly finds an excuse to walk away. 

After you suffer through yet another one of Mr. Pearson’s stories and manage to get tonight’s dinner going, you set off to find Arthur again. The sexual tension is building and you can’t wait too much longer to deal with it. You finally locate him over by the horses. 

Arthur is preoccupied with getting Buck saddled up, fixing the straps of the saddle and filling his saddle bags with provisions. He’s bent over at the waist, checking Buck’s hooves for any muck or debris, and you come up behind him, slowly running your hands up his back, pushing your fingertips into the muscle. You can feel Arthur shudder from your touch. But he quickly switches gears, muscles stiffening up under your hands.

“Quit. I can’t be startin’ that now,” he quickly scolds you.

“Oh really?” you purr as you press up against him, thinking he’s playing hard-to-get.

“I mean it. Knock it off.” He spins away from you, putting his hand on your forearm and holding you at arm's length as if you were something offensive. 

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. “Excuse me?” Your arms cross indignantly over your chest in disbelief. 

But he doesn’t mean to be cruel. He has to focus on what needs to be done. He can’t get sidetracked by those improper thoughts of you. And he has so many of those thoughts about you right now. 

He sighs, rolling his eyes. “Look, it ain’t you, alright? I gotta head out. Dutch needs me to handle something for Strauss.”

You give a long frustrated huff. “Figures,” you mumble under your breath, taking a step back even further away from him.

“Don’t get mad at me for it!” he snaps.

“I’m not.” 

His ocean-colored eyes flash at you. “Yeah, you are!”

“Arthur, if I was mad at you, you’d know it,” you snark back.

“Oh, so this look on your face is one of joy, then?” he says with dripping sarcasm as his hand waves inches from your nose. 

You slap his hand down, your eyes narrowing at him. “Don’t be an ass.”

“I ain’t bein’ in ass!” His voice raises in volume as his limits get tested. He drags his hand over his face in frustration. “Nevermind. Can we deal with this later? I got things to do.” He plants his hands on his hips in impatience.

“Of course you do.” You give him an eye roll, your hair tossing in the air, as you spin on your heels to head back to the campfire. 

—--------------------------------------------------

Later that night, you are walking through the camp. Arthur is nowhere to be seen, which is annoying. You grab the water bucket and head over to the edge of camp to dump it, when you hear a whistle. Confused, you follow the noise as it leads you to the tree line. Suddenly, a massive hand shoots out of the shadows and clamps over your wrist. It's Arthur. He holds his finger up to his lips in a shushing motion, tilting his head to indicate to follow him before you can even utter a word. 

You quietly follow as he leads you away from camp and into the dark and awaiting forest, confused as to what in the world he’s up to. When you get to a thick collection of trees, he stops. 

“Arthur, what are you doing-” but you can’t get another word out before he spins on you and roughly grabs your face, crushing his mouth into yours. You can’t even breathe, as he sucks the air right out of your lungs. He backs you up a few paces, hands still clamped around your cheeks, until your backside hits a tree, trapped and unable to move anywhere else.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day, sweetheart,” he whispers. “Can’t wait a damn second longer. I gotta have ya and have ya now.” He grabs at the fabric of your skirt without warning or permission and starts to hike it up, but you are quick to grab his wrists.

“What?! Out here? Arthur, someone is going to see us!” you gasp, shocked at his brazenness. 

“Don’t care,” he grits out as he pins your body to the tree with his own, his lips attacking your neck. He maneuvers your hands away from his own in order to keep pulling at the skirt fabric which is the only barrier between him and his prize. 

“But Arthur-” You try to take a second to try to talk some sense into him, but he silences you again, shoving his tongue down your throat. Your hands shoot up to his shoulders with a feeble push to try to get him to stop. But by releasing your grasp on his wrists, it frees him to reach up further under your skirt and yank your bloomers off, ripping them at the seam. 

The sudden jerk causes you to gasp and it’s as if a switch has been pulled within you. The culmination of pent-up desire has come to a head as you no longer care about the world around you two. You look up at him with hungry, needy eyes of your own, but see nothing but pure lust reflecting back at you, like looking into the face of a wolf.

Your own pupils are blown wide with yearning and briefly flick from his captive gaze to his full lips. And with that brief glimpse of approval from you, Arthur shoves his arms under your thighs and lifts you up off the ground, slamming you back into the tree trunk. The motion causes the wind to briefly knock out of your lungs as your arms wrap around his shoulders to hold on and keep yourself from falling to the ground. 

His hips grind harshly into you as his mouth devours your jawline and neck. You can feel how hard he is under the fabric of his trousers. Your precious little gasps only spur him on faster. Arthur fumbles with the buttons of his pants, pulling out his rock-hard cock. You can feel the tip of him rubbing hotly against your inner thigh, the length of him dragging along the folds of your heat. He seems impossibly rigid at the moment and you take a split second to wonder if it's actually painful for him. The thought of it causes you to desperately whine and moan in anticipation. 

Arthur can be soft and attentive as a lover, and he can also be hot and passionate. But, every once in awhile, he can be just outright insatiable. A downright, dirty outlaw. 

“You like that, don’t you?” he smirks, pleased with your reaction to his thick manhood teasing your sensitive skin. Cocky bastard. 

All you can do is nod, your mouth agape and gasping for air.

“Good. ‘Cause I ain’t about to stop now.” He lines himself up to you and pushes in, burying himself until his pelvis is flat against yours. You cry out with a wanton little whimper, your head thrown back until it knocks onto the bark behind you with an ungraceful thud. Arthur is large between his legs, always a tight fit within you, but you have zero complaints about it. 

“C’mon, baby, let me hear ya,” he coaxes in your ear. He immediately starts to pump into you, quick and desperate. Your back begins to drag along the tree as he ruts into you. The tree bark cuts into your skin, even through the fabric of your blouse, but you couldn’t care any less. 

“Jesus, Arthur,” you moan. “Right there…(gasping) just like that…just like that.” You try to lean back, pushing your hips towards him and he grunts with a devilish grin. 

“That’s right, girl”.

The beautifully lewd symphony that the two of you create could be heard by anyone in the area if they are close enough. Moans and stifled screams wrap around the wet sounds of tongues and lips clicking, while the unmistakable sound of skin against skin vibrates throughout the ring of trees that encompasses you.  

Arthur lets your one leg drop down so that he can use that hand to reach between you. The pads of his fingers find their way to that sensitive bundle of nerves nestled within your folds and he begins to curl and rub. His other arm that is still hooked under your knee pulls your hip up, opening your gait even more, allowing his cock to ram into the back wall of your cunt with full force. 

It's too much. You loudly cry out at the additional stimulation, your breath gasping as your hands pinch into the meat of his shoulders. 

The sight of you coming undone before his eyes is enough to melt his mind. You lean forward this time, burying your head into his shoulder and letting your whole body go limp in his arms like a rag doll, giving in to sweet pleasure and just letting him have his way with you. 

When you cling to him, he immediately pulls his hand away from your heat and lifts you back up again to get better leverage. He pounds into you even harder, chasing that euphoric ending. You are completely at his mercy now, mercy which will never come. The sexual tension that has been building all day like the pressure of a tea kettle boiling some water has finally been released. And like that scalding hot water, Arthur’s lust burns you.

“Baby, I’m…I’m close…” he sputters, his forehead digging into your temple. You can’t even form coherent words to give him a reply. In fact, you couldn’t care any less about anything he is saying right now, only about what he is doing. 

Your climax is a tidal wave as your hands dig into his shoulder like the claws of a bobcat. The painful sensation of your fingernails cutting into his flesh is enough to push him over the edge as he quickly drops your legs, pulling himself out of you before his spend is sent hurling into the grass at your feet. Lightning clouds his vision as Arthur lets out a loud moan of release, not even bothering to try to hold anything back. His rough hands clasp the rough bark of the tree behind you, snapping pieces of it off in his palms as he braces himself for his own overstimulation.

As his large body comes down from its high, Arthur hangs his head, leaning it against your collarbone, his chest heaving for air. Your legs are shaking, trying to keep upright as you bring your hands up along the sides of his face, cupping his cheeks. Your thumbs begin to stroke his cheekbones to calm him and you press light kisses to his temple as you catch your own breath. 

He slowly pulls his face back to look into yours. Both of you are left speechless. That feral beast that drug you off into the woods to be devoured is no longer in front of you. The man you recognize and love oh-so deeply is back, that sweet grin on his lips. 

“What the hell was that?” you pant out in surprise.

“A man’s got needs,” he smirks with that devilish grin. “And I needed you.” He shakes his eyebrows suggestively at you as he kisses your still-trembling lips. 

“I guess so."

[appalachiancowboy99]

Fireside

Arthur Morgan x CurvyFem!Reader Pure unadulterated smut, 18+, MDNI (Minors Do NOT Enter) Warnings: sexual content, oral sex, cowboy giving

----------------------------------------------------------------------

It was new territory for both of you: this game of stolen glances and shy smiles across Camp, finding excuse after excuse just to feel the thrill of your fingertips dancing over his arms and chest. And then there were those moments where he'd seize any opportunity to pin you up against the side of Pearson's wagon, pressed close against your body just to make you feel the heat and solidity of his frame against yours, no matter how dangerous or reckless it might be. Despite how much he cares for you and how much he enjoys your time together, it's an impossible task to keep his mind from spiraling down every possibility in which he'd be damning you to the same fate, to make the same mistakes he had with Eliza and with Mary, leaving you a shell of the woman you once were. Even if he's riddled with doubt and fear, he won't let you slip through his fingers like a fading dream. It's been quite some time since he's felt so drawn to someone that he can't rationalize why he can't- why he won't stay away. He doesn't quite understand it himself, but for the first time in his life, he ain't fighting it, not with you.

It is no accident that he found himself in this current predicament; setting up a makeshift camp with you outside of Rhodes just to spend some alone time with you. He had made sure of it, insisting on not heading back to Clemen's Point after seeing how pretty you looked all cleaned up and excited to join him on his run to town even if it was just for a pack of cigarettes at the general store. Determined to have some peace away from the commotion of camp, he veered his horse off to the side of the road, leading you through the thicket of trees stretched out alongside the expansive fields of Lemoyne, heading to a clearing just before the edge of Flat Iron Lake. God, was it a good choice. Instead of hearing another riveting story from Mr. Pearson's days in the navy or having you get whisked away for any late-night tasks for Ms. Grimshaw, he's kneeling fireside, watching you fold out his emergency bedroll for the both of you, imaging all the possibilities that the night holds; particularly all those that end with you spread out beneath him.

“C’mere, baby.” His voice is laden with desire as he outstretches his hand for you to take.

"Hmm?" You ask, stopping to glance over your shoulder, only to see his rugged features awash in the orange glow of firelight. Crystalline eyes pierce your heart, crumbling down the walls that protected you and shielded you from the pain of never knowing what love could be. No, there was no idea, no concept of love until he came crashing into your life all those months ago. Love with Arthur is like opening a fresh wound: ripping into your heart and seeding himself so deeply inside of that aching muscle that you fear one day he’ll just bleed you dry and leave you with the dull ache of his memory. However, his presence alone is like a soothing balm to your weary and wounded soul, healing you like the hands of god himself and reassuring you that he’d never leave; he’d crawl through the pits of hell and back just to be spared a passing glance. You trusted him with your life then and against all the nagging self-doubt screaming in your mind, you trust him now.

He can hardly tear his gaze from you as you come closer, his eyes hungrily taking in every inch of your curvy form from the supple sway of your hips to the way the corners of your plush lips curl into an affectionate smile. You place your hand in his as you lower yourself onto his lap, the grass and weeds beneath you tickling your legs just as your knees meet the ground on either side of his hips. Even if you were to pay him no mind, he'd still relish the chance to be this close to you, to see the delicate little imperfections scattered across your skin, to feel the warmth of your love radiating off of your body like a roaring furnace, and admire how your eyes flicker with a sense of hope he'd long forgotten. In the mess of smoothing out your skirts to hide your thighs from his wandering gaze, a lock of hair breaks free from the bun on your head, flopping down on your face in a single ringlet. He reaches up to tuck it behind your ear, his fingertips skimming softly over the supple flesh of your cheek, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. A wave of affection washes over him as he gazes at your face illuminated by the flickering light of the fire, and he can barely contain himself. He longs to shower you with compliments and affection, to give you the love and attention that you so rightfully deserve, but he can't. He has no words; believes there are no words to describe exactly how a single brush of your skin against his makes his heart stop and his mind cloud in a thick fog with nothing to picture but you. You make him feel like a damn fool, a fool so caught up in love that he can't distinguish his left from his right. Words are meaningless here- showing you is the only way.

You never thought you’d find yourself in this predicament: a handsome man like Arthur guiding you toward him, stealing a kiss from your lips like a man starved for the slightest bit of affection. Nor did he think he'd be holding such a beautiful woman in his arms, a woman deserving of so much more than he could ever give. Good things like this don’t happen to you, nor do they happen to men like him, but against all odds, you’re both here wrapped in each others’ embrace without a care in the damn world.

Your plump, pliable lips press against his with a tenderness rarely afforded in the quick, passionate encounters you’ve found yourselves in these days. Tonight, there will be no rush of hands lifting your skirts, no hard press of his cock entering you without warning; tonight, he’ll take his time, drawing out each orgasm after agonizing orgasm from that pretty pussy like you deserve. Arthur breaks away from your lips abruptly and latches onto your pulse point, drawing out that little whimper that sends his head spinning. Your breath is but a whisper as his name drips off your tongue like a fine brandy: silky smooth, "Arthur.." Just as you expect him to reach your collar, unbutton your blouse, and ravage your flesh, he pulls away. Your eyes shoot open only to see him taking off that old gambler's hat while leaning back.

Through a half-laughed whisper, you say, "What're you-" Before you can finish protesting, he rests his back on the plush grass beneath you both, his hat clutched in hand. He sets it aside on a nearby log before turning his attention back to you with a wolfish grin.

“Gonna love you like ya deserve. C’mere,” he murmurs, eyes roaming over your flushed face and heaving chest.

With that, his hands were back on the swell of your hips, thumbs gently pressing into the soft cotton of your skirts, coaxing you with a gentle yet firm pull that guided you away from the comfort of his lap and over his stomach until you're kneeling just above his chest. His eyes lock onto yours, silently pleading for you to rest your fullness on him; he needs to feel every ounce of you as if his life depended on it. You hesitate, looking down at him from above with your pretty skirts pooling over his chest; his face peeking out below a sea of sage green ending just below his chin. Silently urging you to finally give in and settle yourself onto his chest, he reaches upward and gently grabs hold of your waist.

You can’t.

Y’all are already in a compromising position out here in the open. It’d take just a single person to glance in the direction of your camp by the lake to see Arthur delving under your skirts by firelight. His boldness takes you by surprise, a sweet gasp filling your lungs as he leans up, pressing a gentle kiss to your aching cunt through your dampened drawers. That's all it takes for you to give into his touch and rest your hips upon his chest. Your sweet musk alone sends a shiver of pleasure down his spine, pooling straight into his stiffening cock. A low growl of satisfaction leaves his lips in appreciation for your willingness to let him please you. Your eyes are trained on his head ruffling beneath your skirts before looking up at the night sky, noting how the faint white glow of moonlight breaks through the canopy of leaves and limbs, casting shadowed shapes upon the forest floor. His gentle kisses shift from the apex of your desires, the scruff from his beard pleasantly scratching against your skin. While he traces the little blue lace detail on the hem of your drawers, the low timbre of his voice buzzes against your thigh, “Can I take these off of ya?”

There's no denying the desire that runs through you at the thought of being bared to him in such a risque position; to undress yourself and have him beneath you, feasting upon your quivering cunt as if he were savoring you like the very last meal he'd ever taste. Oh, how you remember the first time you felt the wet warmth of his tongue darting out of his lips, pressing against you to show you all the ways in which a real man loves his woman. In truth, Arthur had been the first to awaken those romantic emotions within you, to ignite the spark of desire and affection that had been suppressed for so long. Society had labeled you a spinster, a woman unworthy of love and affection, but he had shown you that you were worthy of so much more than some horseshit label. He had taken your first kiss, been your first intimate touch, and with every moment you spent together, he showed you that you were beautiful and deserving of the kind of love written in those books MaryBeth lets you borrow. The thrill of feeling him once more makes your blood run hot, leaving you with no other choice than to hum softly in agreement. If this is what he desires, then who are you to deny him?

Slowly, you rise off his chest, lifting yourself up to your knees. Your fingers nimbly work to undo the ties that hold cover to the last remnants of decency you have left. You can feel his eyes on you as you undress, watching your every move with an intensity that sends shivers running down your spine. As your skirts fall away, leaving you exposed and vulnerable, you gaze down at his face, the flush of desire dusting his features in a faint reddish hue. His eyes remain locked on yours, unmasked desire blazing in their depths. You begin to work on your blouse and chemise, eager to bare yourself to him, but Arthur's impatience gets the better of him as he struggles with the buttons and ties fastening your clothing. His fingers move quickly and feverishly, desperate to get you stripped down and exposed to his hungry gaze. Through his struggle, he moves his hands back down to your drawers, pressing his thumb against the seam of your body to watch the light fabric catch between your folds. Between your soft gasp and his feigned murmur of forgiveness, he takes hold of the thin fabric and rips it right down the seam of your best set of undergarments. "Arthur! Them's my last good pair," you scold, but it does no good: he's too far gone.

His lust-blown pupils take in the sight of the dark thatch of hair separating him from your aching desire. Oh, for heaven's sake, you internally chastise yourself. Someone could stumble upon your little camp and see you naked as the day you were born, mounting his face like your first ride on a new saddle. But the instant his plush lips meet your seam, all doubt, and all fear subsides, giving way to burning passion. Your back arches, instinctively pressing your hips upon his wanting, salivating mouth, and burying his nose into your plump mound. God how he's missed this, missed taking you so fully and unapologetically. Your sticky sweet nectar coats his lips like the finest honey, driving him wild for a taste of your supple sweetness. His tongue flicks out of his mouth, pressing flat against your slick heat, parting your folds in search of that little bud of nerves screaming his name. You are all that he can taste, all he can breathe, all he can feel.

Darkness clouds his vision as his eyes flutter closed, though flashing behind his eyes is anything but: the image of your face twisting and contorting in agonizing pleasure erases all thought and memory from his mind, leaving only you in its wake. Soft crackling embers, gentle knickers from his steed, the lewd squelches of his tongue lapping at your core, and the sweet flighty sounds escaping your lips create an orgasmic orchestral hymn he's longed to hear these past few weeks. His cock swells, pressing uncomfortably against the rough jean fabric of his usual working pants. Rutting his hips upward, he finds that the tight seam rubs him in the most delicious way: pressing against his cock as if you were leaning back to palm him while he eats you out.

Just as his hips grind upward to find some torturous relief, your hips involuntarily rock against his tongue, guiding him exactly where you need him to be. The strong, wet, muscle glides over your clit, swirling so slowly that your thighs tremble with each expert pass along that tiny bud screaming his name. Embers from the campfire crackles and burns far too close to your bodies not feel the sweltering heat baring down on your skin. Yet, it pales in comparison to the feverish flush that gathered in your face; it spread across the apples of your cheeks to the tips of your ears, leaving them burning almost intolerably. You found yourself struggling to catch your breath as desire worked its way down your throat, squeezing out all the air in your lungs like the first drag off a cigarette before its buzz envelops you completely. His tongue only leaves you for a moment, using it to murmur, "That feel good, baby?"

His voice rumbles through your cunt, causing you to clench around nothing. He needs no answer. He already knows how much you're enjoying this, how much you've been needing to feel his mouth on you by the soft little gasps in between a string of expletives following his name; his favorites being, 'O-Oh Arthur,' 'Oh fuck,' and 'God, pl-please, Arthur.' Pride swells in his chest knowing that he's the only man that's able to ravage you like this. You belong to each other, heart, body, mind, and soul.

Lubrication leaks from you like a damn fountain, coating your pretty little slit like it just begs for him to enter your aching core. And that's exactly what he finds himself searching for. With a small forward thrust of your hips, his tongue parts you, pushes your cunt open, and penetrates you with its wriggling mass of muscle. It wasn’t like his cock filling you, hitting your womb with every thrust, rubbing you so impossibly deep that you could see stars, but it was enough to shatter your pride and make you forego all composure and decency, whatever sense of the word it may be. The very tip finds that soft spongy spot inside, licking and writhing with each dip in and out, all while his nose presses against your clit. “A-Arthur,” you groan. “I’m so close.”

Oh, he knows you're close. Your cunt quivers around his tongue, pulsating in time with the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. Your creamy slick coats his beard, nose, and hell, even his cheeks as you properly use him to reach your end. Everything around you is spinning. Nothing exists beyond this moment shared between two lovers shrouded by nightfall. No, nothing else matters except Arthur's mouth devouring you, drinking you like cold water on a hot summer's day. You're his solace, his sustenance, something worth truly dying for. And if he smothers to death beneath your soaked cunt, then he'd thank God for such a heavenly way to go. His hips rise and fall, undulating as if he were fucking into your tight, gummy channel; it's all he can imagine, all he wants to feel is fucking you and you being fucked. Flicking his tongue inside of you, hitting that sweet spot, pulls you closer to the edge. Your hands are frantic, never taking purchase on any one place until they find the mess of chestnut hair atop his head. It takes everything in you not to rip his hair out as both of your hands take fistfuls into your palms. He growls into you, panting heavily for what little air he's able to take in. Finally, his tongue retreats, moving back up to your clit to give you one hard suck that sends you spiraling over the edge. From the top of your head to the tips of your toes are awash in electricity, burning, shaking through you like a thunderous wave as your climax takes hold. You scream his name, but he doesn't stop attacking your clit with the gentle flick of his tongue through hard suction. No, he doesn't stop, making sure to rip another mind-shattering orgasm out of you until he allows himself to come. You fall forward in an attempt to move from him, but he holds you down with such strength that you're forced to stay seated. You block off his airway, smothering his nose with your mound as he continues his ministrations on your clit. You feel like you're dying, shaking and sweating like a fever has taken your body over, until another orgasm rounds its peak. With one more jerk of his hips, he spends himself in his jeans; cum leaking out of him like a stream, soaking into his union suit while your cream drenches his beard in a frothy white delicacy. Once you gain your composure, you glance down at him to realize that he can't breathe. "O-Oh God, Arthur. You alright?" You pull away from his mouth, giving him a moment to catch his breath as he looks up at you with fiery, hungry eyes. The flame of the campfire casts shadows over his face, the light illuminating him in a warm, golden glow. His beard glistens with your essence, and he gazes up at you with an expression of reverence, silently worshiping what power your body has over him. As you attempt to lift yourself off of him to give him some much needed breathing room, he clamps down on your thighs, preventing you from moving. That familiar smirk draws up the corner of his mouth and a spark of desire flickers in the ocean of blue surrounding his lust-blown pupils, "Where you think 'yer goin'? Ain't done with you yet." ---------------------------------------------------------------------- A/N: Hi! I really hope y'all like this little drabble. My great friend @photo1030 inspired me to post a little something, so I have her to thank for igniting my creativity again. It's my first time posting anything like this, so feedback of any kind would be greatly appreciated! So again, thank you, C, for being my first supporter <3

Other creators I enjoy/drew inspo from: @rivetingrosie4 @coltermorning @subpopizzy @amorgansgal @immajustvibehere @twola

[hihomeghere]

Watch | Arthur Morgan x f!reader x Charles Smith

Summary : You are curious on how two men can have sex, Arthur and Charles are happy to show you. Follows along with the series Baptized by Fire but can be read as a one shot.

Word count : 3.3k, this got away from me a little bit lol

Warnings/tags : M/W/M, threesome activities, oral m and f receiving, unprotected anal, reader has doubts about how she fits in the relationship, Charthur x reader, follows Baptized by fire storyline, Arthur Morgan x reader, Charles smith x reader, Arthur Morgan x Charles Smith, cursing, minors do not interact

Divider by @saradika

You should have kept your mouth shut. Shouldn’t have spoken what had been nagging at you from the back of your mind since you had heard the two of them together nearly three weeks ago. 

But you were curious, a bad trait in the grand scheme of things. The three of you had settled into a new normal as you joined the dynamic between the two of them. 

“So how does it work?” You asked looking up from your needlepoint. Charles raised his eyebrows, looking at you from over his book.

“How does what work, sweetheart?” Arthur asked, not looking up from his journal. He had grown used to your endless questions. Unfortunately, you had grown up very sheltered, the little things you thought you did know were often wrong. Which led to Arthur and Charles constantly correcting you. At first you had felt so damn stupid, had left you keeping your mouth shut every time you had a question. Of course, they saw through your sudden silence, working to get to the meat of the problem. You’d never had anyone care so much about you, maybe your mama, but you hardly remembered her. 

“Well…” You started, pursing your lips as heat flooded your cheeks. “Two… two men. How does that work in bed?” You asked, biting your lip. 

Arthur cleared his throat, his cheeks turning that delicious shade of scarlet that highlighted his freckles. Charles only chuckled, looking over at him. 

“Well darlin’-“ Arthur started, clearing his throat once more, “there’s, there’s a few ways.” He said, setting his paper and pencil down. “You can uh- take him in your mouth as anyone would do.” He ran his hand through his honey brown locks, pushing them away from his face. “Or-“

“Or you can take him up the ass.” Charles finished, shrugging as he looked over at Arthur.

“Charles!” Arthur huffed, the tips of his ears turning pink.

“Oh for chrissake, she asked!” Charles said, chuckling softly. Your eyes widened as you looked between the two of them. Oh.

“Wouldn’t that hurt?” The words fell from your lips before you could stop them. Furrowing your brows as you looked between them. 

“It can,” Charles nodded, “if you go too hard or too fast. But it can also feel real good.” He hummed, glancing over at Arthur who was still a blushing mess. 

“How would it even fit?” You asked leaning forward, your curiosity overpowering the embarrassment you knew you should feel. 

“Salve,” Charles shrugged, “or oil. But I prefer salve, the tin beside our bed.”

“Charles.” Arthur was completely flushed, nearly hiding his face behind his hand as he rubbed his eyebrows. 

So that’s what that tin was for, you were now very thankful you had never used it to moisten your lips. 

“I’m still curious,” You said, shaking your head, “I understand the salve, but the two of you aren’t… small.” You chuckled, biting your lip. You could visibly see the two of them puff up at your praise. Arthur finally came out from behind his hand to look up at the two of you.

“Do you…” Arthur sighed, shaking his head as he chewed on his lip. “Do you wanna watch?”

The idea shouldn’t have sent such a thrill through you, but it did. Heat instantly rushed down through your belly to your core. 

“Can I?” You asked hesitantly, wondering if this was crossing a line. But Arthur had offered, hadn't he? If there was some invisible boundary between you and them, he would have offered it. 

This was the least favorite part of your arrangement. The guessing, the constant guessing if you had pushed too far or crossed a line. You wished that just once they would have to deal with the uncertainty you faced. Although you knew it wasn’t fair to think that way, they were the ones who had first faced uncertainty. They were the ones who had bared their souls to you first, shared the most intimate parts of their life.

“If you want to.” Charles nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips as he looked from you, over to Arthur. He gulped his Adam's apple bobbing.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it.” His accent thick as he cleared his throat.

“What about tonight?” You asked, biting your lip. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as you surprised even yourself with your boldness. You were almost never the one to initiate physical intimacy with them. Again, tip-toeing around this invisible boundary that might have only existed in your mind. You didn’t want to push, didn’t want to do anything that might make them change their mind about you. About welcoming you into their life, their relationship.

“Tonight?” Charles’s small grin had now turned into a full blown smirk, “Eager are we?” He chuckled, heat flooding your cheeks as you looked down. “I don’t see why not, what do you think Arthur?” He hummed, leaning back in his chair as he spread his legs. Moving his hips in a not-so-subtle thrust. 

“Why not?” He shrugged, feigning indifference as he adjusted himself through his pants before he went back to his journal.

The day moved by at a snail's pace. No matter how many mindless tasks you completed, you could not will the sun to go down any faster than it normally would. You didn’t know why you seemed to be bewitched by the thought of the men indulging in each other. You would not be joining them, there would be no way for you to. You did not possess a cock, although you did not wish to possess one anyway. You would just be an observer tonight. Perhaps in some twisted way you had been waiting for this ever since you had heard them all those weeks ago.

You were nearly vibrating by the time you all sat down for dinner. Not even taking the time to savor the stew Charles and you had worked on earlier. You quickly washed up your bowl, along with the men. You could feel their eyes on your back, as you scrubbed the bowls in the soapy water. 

“Think we’ve teased the poor girl enough, Arthur?” Charles' deep voice called from behind you. 

“I reckon.” Arthur chuckled. Your mouth ran dry as you grabbed the towel, drying the remaining water off of your hands. You turned, your eyes landing on them. Their wolfish grins, their blown pupils, were settled on your body. Staring at you like they hadn’t just eaten their fair share. Heat began to pool in your core, your bloomers suddenly very damp between your thighs 

“Now?” You asked, wetting your lips. Both the men nodded, not taking their eyes off of you. Charles got up first, stalking towards you like you were the one who would be absolutely wrecked by the end of the evening. Arthur headed towards the bedroom, no doubt to prepare everything. 

Charles’ arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush to him as he pressed his lips to yours. Effectively stealing the breath from your lungs as he held you against the hard line of his body. His hardening excitement did little to dampen the fire steadily growing in your belly. 

He pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. Your breaths mingled as the two of you panted. The air had turned charged, like when a lightning storm was on the horizon, ready to touch down. 

“Ain’t that a pretty sight.” Arthur whistled from the doorway to your room, already stripped down to his union suit. His cock strained against the maroon fabric. 

“C’mon sweetheart.” Charles chuckled softly, taking your hand as the two of you walked into the bedroom. Arthur was all over Charles the second he stepped through the threshold. His hands were flying to his belt as he pulled it out of the loops. 

“Help me get him undressed, won’t you sweetheart?” Arthur asked, raising his gaze to find your eyes. You hadn’t realized you were frozen until he snapped you out of your trance. You moved beside him, your fingers working on unbuttoning his shirt.

You could feel his heart pounding against your fingertips as you pulled his shirt off of him. Baring his chest to you and Arthur. The oil lamp in the corner of the room made his skin nearly glow, highlighting the perfect imperfections of the scars along his skin. 

“See something you like, sweetheart?” Charles asked, his near obsidian eyes finding yours. Heat bloomed in your cheeks as you looked up at him, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you nodded. You heard the bed creak under Arthur’s weight, drawing your attention back to the other man. He was a vision in the low light, his hand wrapped around his stiff cock. His piercing gaze shot through you, turning your legs to jelly. You felt viewed, instead of the other way around.

The fabric of your dress fell at your feet, leaving you in your chemise. You furrowed your brows, looking up at Charles. 

“What?” You asked, as his fingers untied the string above your breasts. 

“Do you want to stop?” He asked, pausing his motions. You shook your head, swallowing thickly. You felt your nipples harden as he bared your skin to the chill air. Arthur grabbed your wrist, tugging you back to him. His mouth covered your breast, running his tongue over your nipple. 

A small moan left your lips, your fingers threading through honey brown hair. Which had grown in the past few weeks, forgoing a haircut. You curled the strands around your fingers, pulling him closer. A whine raised up through his throat, the sound vibrating through your chest. He raised his other hand to grope at your breast that was being neglected by his mouth. You sighed softly, closing your eyes.

A choked gasp around your nipple snapped your eyes open. Charles has his hand around Arthur, smearing the salve around his head before spreading it down his shaft. His hot breath wafted against you as he leaned his forehead against your chest. Goosebumps erupted on your skin, down your arms. 

“Impatient.” Arthur said with a choked breath, glancing up at Charles. Charles chuckled, turning Arthur’s jaw towards him. He captured his lips against his, your heart pounding as you watched them. 

“Get on the bed.” Arthur growled, his pupils dilating as his hand came down on Charles backside with a loud smack. Charles grinned, crawling onto the flannel sheets. He laid on his back, his raven hair spread out like a halo.

“You too.” Arthur’s hand came down on your ass cheek, a small gasp leaving your lips. 

“But I’m-“

“You want the best seat in the house don’tcha?” Arthur asked, rubbing your reddened skin. You nodded, climbing onto the bed next to Charles. Arthur grabbed the salve, spreading it on Charles' puckered hole. Charles sucked in a breath as Arthur slowly pressed a finger inside. You moved to sit on your knees, watching as Arthur moved one of Charles legs up onto his hip. Charles let out a low moan as Arthur added a second finger. You felt like you were in a trance, unable to pull your eyes away from the scene in front of you. Not that you wanted to. Arthur twisted his hand, smirking as Charles’ hips jolted in response. His thick cock standing at attention on his stomach. 

“You wanna help our boy, sweetheart?” Arthur cooed, raising his eyes. You wrapped your hand around Charles’ weeping head, spreading the precum down his shaft. 

“Fuck-“ Charles groaned, fisting the sheets under him. Your mouth was watering at the sight, a light sheen of sweat covering Charles' skin. You couldn’t help yourself, lowering your head to take Charles in your mouth.

“Atta girl.” You could hear the smirk in Arthur’s tone. You swirled your tongue around his mushroom head, dipping your tongue into his slit. 

“Shit- Arthur.” Charles groaned.

“I ain’t the one with my pretty mouth wrapped around your cock.” Arthur hummed, “Tell her how good she’s doin’.”

“So good- ngh- so good sweetheart.” His hand rested against your head, petting your hair. You pushed yourself down, taking more of him in your mouth. Tasting the subtle musk that was so incredibly Charles. 

Arthur gently pulled you off of him, capturing your lips with his own. Pushing his tongue into your mouth, no doubt tasting Charles on your tongue. 

Arthur lined himself up with Charles, pressing his head into him slowly.

“Damnit-“ Charles hissed, his cock twitching on his belly. His brows drew together, white knuckling the sheets. Arthur pushed into him fully, his pelvis against his ass. His hands ran up and down Charles’ thick thighs.

“Feel so good darlin’.” Arthur hummed, closing his eyes. You swallowed thickly, your mouth going dry at the sight in front of you. 

“So pretty.” You said softly, the words leaving your lips before you could think twice about them. They had this sort of effect on you, like they stopped your inhibitions. Drawing out your deepest thoughts and desires, with no effort at all. 

“Him or me, sweetheart?” Arthur sighed contently, drawing his hips back slowly before easing back inside him.

“Both.” You replied, your attention drawn to Charles as he whined. 

“More.” Charles pleaded, his blown wide eyes looking up at Arthur. 

“Anything you want darlin’.” Arthur snapped his hips forward, rewarded with a deep moan from Charles. You bit your lip, slipping your hands down your body. Dragging your fingers across your nipples before you moved between your legs. Gathering your slick on your fingers before finding your nub of pleasure. You hummed, looking back at Arthur and Charles. 

Arthur had Charles‘ thigh up on his hip, his lip between his teeth as he thrust into him. You picked up speed, a small moan leaving your lips. 

“C’mere.” Charles panted, grabbing your wrist. You sighed as he pulled your hand away from your legs.

“Where?”

“Sit on me.” He almost begged. 

“I- I don’t…” you bit your lip, looking from Charles to Arthur. Arthur slowed his movements, stilling inside of Charles. You swallowed thickly, feeling heat crawl up your neck and into your cheeks. 

“Don’t what sweetheart?” Arthur asked, his chest rising and falling harshly. 

“Well it’s- this is between you two…” You mumbled.

“Do you not want to join us?” Charles asked, wetting his lips.

“No that’s not it.” You said shaking your head, your tongue felt heavy and too big for your mouth. 

“Then what’s the problem?” Arthur asked, his brows furrowing. You sat there, completely exposed. Physically and emotionally, how were you supposed to tell them how you felt? How were you supposed to speak when you could hardly form a thought from the jumbled words and feelings in your brain? 

“This isn’t between Arthur and I.” Charles said, his gaze soft, “This is between us. All of us.” He said, squeezing your hand. 

“I just-“ You bit your lip, tears pricking your eyes. 

“Oh sweetheart.” Arthur said softly, pulling out of Charles. 

“I don’t-“ You huffed, rubbing your eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing.” Charles said, sitting up. “Nothing is wrong with you.”

“Talk to us.” Arthur said, rubbing your back. You took a few shaky breaths, trying to assemble the mix of emotions into a sentence.

“I-“ You sighed, letting Charles pull your hand away from your face. “I don’t know what’s allowed.” You mumbled 

“Allowed?” Arthur repeated, furrowing his brows. 

“I just-“ You groaned, shaking your head, “I don’t want to mess up, or- or intrude-“

“Intrude?” Arthur shook his head.

“There ain’t a way for you to intrude sweetheart.” Charles cooed. “Belong here, with us.” He said, looking from you up to Arthur.

His words struck your heart like an arrow. You sniffled, unable to hold back the tears. You didn’t know that’s what you needed to hear, to be reassured that this was your home. That they wanted you as much as you wanted them. 

“I love you, both of you.” You sniffled, looking up at them. No longer afraid of the consequences of speaking what you had known for weeks now. 

“I love you too.” Arthur smiled, pulling you into his embrace.

“I love you too sweetheart.” Charles said, kissing the crown of your head. “Now,” He started, wiping your tears away from your cheeks. “Don’t make me beg.” He smirked, laying back down. 

“You sure I won’t crush you?” You asked 

“I can promise you, you won’t.” He hummed, reaching for you. You moved from Arthur's arms, climbing up his body. You straddled his chest, his hands grabbed your ass pulling you further up on the bed. You hovered over his face, wetting your lips as you let out a shaky breath. 

“Ready Charles?” Arthur asked from behind you.

“Ready.” He replied before pulling you down onto his face. His tongue dove into you, fucking your hole with reckless abandon. 

“Oh Charles!” You squealed, grasping the headboard for support as he devoured you like a man starved. Charles' moan was muffled against your core as Arthur filled him.

“So damn tight.” Arthur said through gritted teeth behind you. Each thrust moved Charles against you, his nose bumping up against your clit. Sending sparks of pleasure through your body and down to your toes. Charles' arms were wrapped around your thighs, holding you down on him as you started to shake. 

They had tasted you a few times, but never like this. Every moan vibrated through your core. You wonder if he was moaning at your taste or at Arthur’s thick cock splitting him open, probably both. You had never heard of a man that enjoyed eating pussy like Charles. It was almost like an art to him, the way he licked through your folds, sucking on your clit until you were crying out.

“Oh god- Charles- Arthur-“ Their names fell like a mantra from your lips as you got closer and closer to falling over the edge. The coil tightening in your belly, your toes curling. 

“Cum for him, sweetheart, soak his pretty face.” Charles moaned at Arthur’s words which sent you over the edge. Cuming with a wail as you grabbed at the raven locks at the crown of Charles head. Instead of letting up, he sucked harder at your clit, your legs trembling on either side of his head. Arthur sped up his thrusts, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the small room. 

You were floating, hardly able to hold yourself up as you collapsed over to one side of Charles. 

“Fill him up.” You panted, breathless as you looked up at Arthur. 

“Yeah?” Arthur asked, his hair sticking to his forehead. “Want me to fill up our man?” You nodded, trailing your fingers down Charles' chest. Wrapping your hand around his cock, you started to stroke him in time with every one of Arthur’s thrusts.

“Fuck-“ Charles keened, his chest jerking off of the bed. His balls pulled tight up against his body. “I’m gonna-“

“Cum.” Arthur growled, baring his teeth like a wild animal. Charles gasped, ropes of cum painting his belly and chest as you worked him through his orgasm. Arthur slammed his hips against his ass, chasing after his own high. Cuming with a whine as he collapsed in on himself.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was your breaths. Arthur pulled out of Charles, flopping down on the other side of him. His arm above his head as he caught his breath. 

“Everything you hoped for?” He asked, clearing his throat as he looked over at you. You chuckled breathlessly, throwing your arms over Charles' chest as you rolled onto your side. 

“And more.” You hummed, snuggling into Charles' side. Charles chuckled, kissing your forehead. Arthur sighed contently, before getting up. He grabbed a damp cloth, must have placed it in here beforehand, and returned to the bed. He gently began wiping the cum off Charles' stomach and thighs.

“You still curious, sweetheart?” Charles asked with a hum, his jaw glistening with your slick.

“Well…” You started, a wicked grin spreading across your face as you spoke with renewed confidence. “I haven’t seen Arthur take you.”

Tag list : @photo1030 , @emerald-ranch @highlandhour , @buffkirby2020 , @esquilone , @cyb3rsx , @whalecage , @idekraeven , @calcarius445 , @heloixe

[cowboyfromh3ll]

gonna keep the shy reader hcs party going and kindly request how arthur, john, and charles (and any other characters you might have added) would tease her once they’ve been together for a little while. who likes flustering her the most and who would get away with it the longest before she realizes he’s doing it on purpose 👀 as for the smutty part, what’s their favorite ways to rile her up before taking pity and giving her what she wants (i imagine some would be nicer than others lol)

Shy!Reader HC Ft. Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Charles Smith (Smut)

Y'all love your shy reader hcs

Warnings: smut

Arthur Morgan

I feel like Arthur wouldn't be too big of a tease but when he is, they're very non consequential things

You fell off your horse? You were hunting together and missed the shot by a lot? You hurt yourself trying to do something daring on a job? He'd be like omg come over here lemme fix it for you baby

His goal is never to make you feel less than or somehow incompetent with his teasing

But oh you got syrup all over your face and hands? You buttoned your shirt incorrectly? You snort when you laugh? He's gonna keep going until you're blushing and giggling at him to stop

Even if there's nothing wrong with your outfit he'll go over to you and find SOMETHING to fix

Will spend an unnecessary amount of time fixing your collar or scarf

It'd probably be pretty easy to tell what he's trying to do, not very slick

Would compliment you to try and make you blush but he just ends up making himself blush

If you're insecure over something he'll make sure to compliment that aspect of you over and over again

Flirts with the idea of marriage and kids one day and that'll have you SWOONING

Sometimes he'll rub your belly when you talk about it and it'll make you CRUMBLE

NSFW

Oh he's gonna be such a big tease, and he'll do it perfectly

Does it in a way that can be passed off as accidentally and goes unnoticed by anyone else but you

Rubs his crotch on you while making his way past behind you

Subtly brushes your thigh or ass with his hand

Kisses up your neck until you're all hot and bothered and pulls away before saying he's gotta do something

If y'all are sitting around a table in a group setting he'll have you on his lap so you can feel him harden. Keeps playing poker like nothing

If you're sitting next to him he'll place his hand on your inner thigh but never moving it close enough to where you want it

His favorite way to rile you up is to touch you all over during make outs then never going past that

Takes pity on you when he sees you get genuinely frustrated, thinks it's hilarious though

Charles Smith

He's so subtle with it that you wouldn't even catch it until a few seconds later

You gotta think about it before you truly get it

You could complain about how hot it is and he'll recommend you take off your clothes

Oh you say your backs hurting? Charles recommended course of action is visiting him at his tent tonight so he can fix it wink wink

You'll actually show up and he'll actually be surprised you haven't gotten it yet

Will give you a massage nonetheless

Would take you a while to pick up on it and that's the beauty of it to Charles

Would do things without the intention of making you blush but if he notices something does he'll keep at it

You like it when he plays with your hair? Then he'll braid it and put flowers in it and rave about how beautiful it is

Hands you flowers and tells you it reminded him of you

Makes you little trinkets and objects and says the most flowery things about how he tried to make it a fraction of how beautiful you are

NSFW

Like his aforementioned forms of teasing, he'll do just that

In fact, in times where you do catch on, he'll pretend like he never meant it that way and you're the one who's trying to get something going

Will give you THAT LOOK when you're together in public and you BOTH know you won't be able to do anything for hours

During make outs he'll rub your inner thighs or ass or sides but never touching you where you need it.

His hands are very light, his touches never heavy handed

He'd give in real easy to you. Just pout or give him puppy eyes and he'll give in

Even being bold enough to tell him what you want will have him in a trance

He's a giver so he can never deny you for too long for his own satisfaction

John Marston

Oh my God his teasing definitely goes too far

I don't mean that in a cute way I mean he probably ends up hurting your feelings because he does not know when to stop

Sucks at flirting

Your shy nature just makes it more awkward

But once you get used to his failed attempts at being coquettish you'll be able to recognize when he's trying to flirt

Is probably super obvious when he's trying and when he's successful he'll actually make you blush

His successful attempts are probably unintentional. Says something he won't think will land but is surprised when it works

Excuses himself for a moment and celebrates a few feet away before turning like normal

He has like a time to cool down on successful flirting. Only successful once every three days or something like that

Tries to compliment you but it comes out awkwardly and stiff

If you say something back slightly flirty he's gonna blank and not know how to continue from there

As soon as he approaches you and says "uhh.. hey" you already know what he's trying to do

Opposite of Arthur so he WILL tease you for falling off your horse

Awkwardly hugs you and pats your shoulder if you cry while apologizing profusely

NSFW

Can't rile you up for too long without exciting himself

Keeps his arm on your lower back and dips his fingers inside your waist band

Type to pull on your overalls (if you wear em) and lets them snap back into you

Will come up behind you and rub his stubble into your neck before whispering filthy things into your ear

Likes it when you put up a little playful resistence

If y'all are sitting down somewhere together he'll put his hand on your ankle before running it up under your skirt

Ends up giving in mostly because HE can't take it anymore and is too excited

[elfven-blog]

Deals with the Devil ain't so bad

Summary: Arthur Morgan became the devil's bounty hunter...but god does he miss you fiercly. Ghost Rider!Arthur Morgan x F!Reader CW: MDNI, 18+ Only, p in v, fingers, forest/public, nearly caught, fingers, flames used during. Is this technically monster? Word count: 2.9K

He remembers signing that contract like it was yesterday. Remembers how the wind felt against his breath as he looked at the sun rising, how he struggled to breath, the sound of his own raspy voice shaking as he took what should have been his last breath. How his lungs hurt, and his eyes watered from the realisation that this was it.

Then suddenly there was the man. He stood watching Arthur dying on that mountain, his hands wrapped on his cain and the silver skull glinted in the morning rays. His eyes were cold and his voice worse as he spoke “I can help you” was all he said. The outlaws' eyes flickering to the strange man. The corner of his mouth turned up as he watched the dying man give a small nod, his breaths starting to wheeze.

Echoes of his steps fall around the mountain as he bends at the knee, resting right next to Arthur “I won’t ask you to get up”. He unrolls paper, and places it on the ground next to the outlaw. Arthur see’s something shining in that pale man’s eyes, there’s something wrong with him. But Arthur’s greedy.

He wants another chance at life, he wants to right his wrongs, he wants to see you again. He’s a selfish man, he thinks as his hands struggle to grasp the paper, and he doesn’t even read the contract before he tries to sign his name. The man laughs as Arthur coughs and his blood splatters the page “That’ll do just fine Mr Morgan” and he takes the contract away from him, rolling it back up and sheathing it in a metal cylinder. “When you open your eyes next, you’ll be healthy as a horse”. The man grins before he’s gone, and Arthur’s eyes slipped shut.

And now here he was a year down the line. The devil’s bounty hunter. He’d spent the past year collecting souls and returning them back to hell, never seeing you. He should never have taken that contract, he should have died that day on the mountain. You thought he had, Charles and John thought he had. Even set him up a nice little grave that he’d watched you visit time and time again over the year.

His heart yearned to be near you again, to feel your warmth and your softness beneath his fingers but he refused to let Mephisto know his weakness. So he spent his days wandering the west, the shire he’d gotten from Hosea had become his ride and he went everywhere with Arthur. 

Even right now, here he was in the small town you’d settled in, watching as you brought in the washing. Your head turning up to look at the sky causing your shoulders to sag when you saw the grey clouds hanging overhead. Arthur kept his hat down low so if you happened to look, you wouldn’t see that rugged outlaw you’d lost a year ago.

The rider stood there for a little longer watching you but his sadness quickly turned to jealousy, his gaze dropping from that aching to venom as he watched some man he’d never seen before riding up to your house. The stranger dismounting as he pressed flowers into your hand which you seemed to accept willingly. That smile you reserved only for him was present and all Arthur wanted in that moment was to drag that man down to hell.

It was a few days later when he returned to you, and you were out tending to the small garden you’d managed to maintain. The sky had been clear for some time and he watched you worry your bottom lip between your teeth. You disappeared inside the door for a few seconds before coming back out with a basket, leaving the garden and turning down to walk through the trees that your property backed onto.

Arthur stood up straight, his hand shaking the cigarette and throwing it onto the ground once it was out. He pushed his hat slightly down as he began to walk after you. The outlaw watched you carefully, not showing himself just yet, and fooling himself that he was following you because the forest wasn’t safe. Who knows what was here, you needed that protection.

While he had taught you to use a gun some years ago, that didn’t mean you were any good at it. Least not better than him.

He followed you for a while, you hadn’t even noticed. More reason for him to be accurately worried. And he watched as you bent to pick more flowers, adding them to the already full basket. His brow furrowed as he finally took note of them, originally he thought the book you held was full of the information and pictures of them but now, as he looked closer, he noticed the familiar worn leather. His own journal.

You’d kept it. You’d kept it.

And that seemed to be what made him snap. Your head turning fast at the sound of someone stomping towards you. Hands forcing you to stand up, an arm wrapping around your waist and someone's mouth crashing to yours.. Teeth clashing against your own as your eyes widened and you tried to push this sudden figure off you. Anger filled your mind, until he pulled slightly away from you.

Your eyes still wide as you dropped the basket, shaky hands holding his face gently. One of your fingers gently tracing his face, mouth opening and shutting as you tried to speak.

It was Arthur who spoke first “I missed you darlin’” came that rough timber that you’d spent nights trying to replay in your mind “Missed ya somethin’ fierce”.

You were the one to kiss him this time, pulling him forward so quickly it knocked his hat back but he didn’t care as he kissed you back. Tongue pushing your lips apart so he could explore every inch of your mouth, you didn’t fight it like you normally would. His brow furrowed as he tasted something salty and opened his eyes to see you crying.

He pulled away again, shushing you gently as his thumbs brushed away the tears “I’m sorry, I know baby girl but I’m here now” you buried your face into his neck, breathing in the scent of him. Leather, gunpowder and sandalwood flooded your nose and it felt like you could breathe for the first time in a year. Your hands took the hat from his head completely so you could run your hands through his soft strands, looking up at him in wonder.

“You were gone” Arthur swore he could have fell to his knees right there with the way your voice cracked, he had never meant to cause such pain. Maybe taking that deal wasn’t such a bad thing, if it meant he could hold you like this, if he could hear that sweet melody of your voice.

“Let me make it up to ya” one of his hands slowly moved down from your waist to grab your ass, squeezing it tightly as his mouth crooks up into a grin and your cheeks go red at his insinuation. You try to stammer a reply but he just shushes you again “Come on girl, just lay here and look pretty, alrigh’?”

Those words are all it takes for him to quickly have you on the floor, hiking your skirts up over your waist and Arthur’s quickly pushing his trousers down. The gun belt is somewhere near his hat. His hands are as rough as you remember as he pushes your thighs open, his eyes dark at the sight between them “Hold” comes his gruff voice, and your hands immediately go under your knees to keep yourself held open for him.

The way his eyes watch you sends arousal thrumming through your body and your hole clenches around nothing causing the man above you to roll his neck and breath through his nose. His hands trace down the fat of your thighs before his thumb pushes against your clit and he slowly circles it “Missed me that much, sugar?”

You can only nod and grip your legs as he applies more pressure “I missed you so much Arthur” he leans down to kiss at your neck, your eyes fluttering and mouth dropping open as his teeth scrape against the skin. His fingers slide down your wet lips, gathering some of it before he gently pushes against your hole. Your body doesn’t deny the man entrance, he meets almost no resistance as he begins to move his fingers in and out, his thumb still rubbing at the sensitive nub.

“Then I won’t tease ya” he mumbles against the pulse in your throat, and you mewl in agreement. He stretches you gently, adding another finger and this causes you to gasp “S’okay darlin’ just been a while, gotta get you ready” your hand moves to the base of his hair, tanging in the strands and tugging to get his face to move up, pressing your lips to his again.

Your legs tremble in your own hold as his fingers press up against the soft spot inside you, the pressure on your clit and the way he kisses you until your breathless has your back arching. His mouth swallows all the sweet noises you give him. 

It doesn’t take long for the man to expertly bring you to that edge, it’s been so long since you felt like this. You’d tried to do it yourself once you’d thought you were done grieving but your own hand just hadn’t been enough. Oh but Arthur’s hand? It knew exactly where to stroke, how fast to go, the right amount of pressure to apply. “That’s it sweetheart, just like that. Such a good girl f’me”

And his words had you going over that edge, your fingers leaving marks on your own skin, your legs trying to close even as you held them open. Arthur’s eyes watching the way your hole tightened around his fingers, slick drooling down to the forest floor as your eyes fluttered shut and you could only whimper and whine at the feeling.

Arthur’s fingers left your cunt leaving you to whine as he shushes you, his hands making quick work to pull his trousers half way down his thighs, enough to bring his cock out of his underwear. The fabric pressed just under his balls. Your eyes gravitated there, tracing the hard dick he sported. 

You couldn’t tear your gaze away, his own hand barely able to wrap around it as he pumped a few times, his head tipping back with a groan and his cock jumped at the action. Arthur stroked the head against your folds, the precum oozing from the slit and coating your pussy as he gathered the wetness. You pouted up at him, trying to roll your hips up against him and Arthur raised an eyebrow.

His free hand moving to pin your body down as he threatened “Have I gotta crush you to floor, girl?” his tone let you know not to do that again, and your entire body relaxed against the leaves and sticks as he finally pushed into your hole. A gasp leaving you, and he stilled with just the tip inside as he let you get used to the feeling again.

Both of you tensed at the sound of your name being yelled through the forest, seeming to echo as someone called your name and suddenly Arthur’s loving exterior was gone. Your hands let go of your legs and you sat up to push him off you “Oh oh, we got to stop” but the outlaw only pushed you back to the floor, his body weight on you as he pushed the rest of his cock inside you.

“We ain’t gotta do nothing. You gotta lay here and take it” Your eyes widened, you’d never seen him like this before, but as Arthur started to buck his hips up against you, you could only do as he said. Your arms wrapping around his shoulders and clinging to the back of his jacket, his own hands gripping your thighs this time to keep them open. His fingers dimpling the fat as he almost seemed in a frenzy to fuck you.

You couldn’t see his face, but you heard the grunts and growls as his hips humped at you, his cock stretching you out over and over as he used your cunt. The yelling of your name got louder before fading away, the person walking in a different direction “He couldn’t do ya ike this, nah, he aint the type to give you what ya need darlin’”. You had no idea what he was talking about, brow furrowing but you couldn’t focus on one single thought. Not with the way his fingers bruising your thighs as the head bruised your cervix.

And then, all of a sudden, you felt very hot. Your eyes shot open as you watched flames engulf Arthur. His hands burning at your skin and as you looked down all you saw were bones gripping at your thighs “W-what?” you whispered out, your body tensing and Arthur froze too.

His mind went blank as he realised what had happened, and he stammered and stuttered as he tried to think of something to say “Darlin’ I, well, er” Your hand moved to touch the skeleton fingers, and they seemed to change back into his own fingers. And then you realised the flames didn’t really hurt. They were just hot.

Arthur’s eyes widened as he felt your hole clench around him, and it caused him to groan as he thrust into you again. Calming enough that he could morph back into your loving cowboy, his hands gripping your thighs again as he set back into his brutal “Ya like that, dont ya, sugar?” his voice dripped in arousal as he continued the assault on your cunt. This time his touch was accompanied with the flames you seemed to find fascinating. He watched you nod up at him, that devious grin charming up his face.

He brought one of his hands up to your corset, setting it on fire and you gasped as it turned to ash, blowing away in the wind. Mouth going dry as he teased at your hardened nipple, the flame licking at the bud but never burning you. And your hips rolled up forcing more of his cock into you, and your back arched pressing his hand against your breast again. “yeah you like it” came his deep timbre again.

With the added touch of his flames against your skin now, it was easy to get you back into that syrupy head space allowing Arthur to fuck you against the forest floor as he humped into your cunt, his cock dragging along your g-spot in the most delicious way. His words slipping into your ears as he brought you closer and closer to that edge again, his hand making it’s way down your body, burning the pieces of clothing that stopped its path before it could press against your clit.

Your entire body thrummed as he applied some of that heat while he circled your clit, your cunt starting to ache from how he used you and a whimper leaving your mouth as you soaked the floor and Arthur’s pants. He pressed closer to you until you could feel his shirt against your face, his hips keeping your legs apart while his hands moved to grab at the floor. Trying to keep himself grounded as he slowed down his pace “Fuck darlin’!” his voice rang out as you came undone around him.

His eyes rolling as his cock twitched, hot ropes of cum painting your walls white and he stayed as close as possible as his hips rolled and pressed you into the floor. His hands grasped around dirt and leaves as he filled you. “Forgot how good that feels” the outlaws voice was a raspy pant as he breathed heavily above you.

And you both stayed there for a few minutes, until his cock had softened inside you and he pulled out slowly, his hands soothing at your thighs while he shushed you. Your body tensing at the ache between your thighs, and little whimpers left you as he pulled out “I know, I know, ‘m sorry” came the once again gentle Arthur. The one you knew.

As you slowly blinked, trying to gain control over your breathing again, you moved your hand to touch his face. Brow furrowing as you tried to make sense of what you had seen. Not only was the man you loved back from the dead…but he seemed to be some kind of fire skeleton. Confusion swarmed your mind.

The rough man pressed a kiss to your palm, his hand moving to take your own off his face as he gave you a shy smile, his gaze full of concern and something else. Something that seemed awfully similar to that look when he was self-conscious all those years ago “I can explain”

You nodded up at him, looking at him expectedly as he began to explain what had happened. And while it didn’t all make sense to you, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was you had Arthut back. Whether he was tethered to this ‘Ghost Rider’ demon or not.

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

The Heart of Your Home Pt 6

Summary: Arthur comes across a woman in need. What he thought was a simple good deed would take him down a much further path than anticipated.

Warnings: Tension, cursing, smut

Word Count: 6,743

A/N: The long awaited chapter of this! With a new job under my belt it's become easier to write. Have fun my Arthur stans!

Nervous fingers tensed and uncurled endlessly around the worn leather reins, something Arthur had been doing since he left the humidity of Lemoyne behind to the cooler, crisper air of New Hanover once again. The familiar pines and jagged peaks of Ambarino appeared in the distance the closer he and his horse approached. 

He inhaled the fifth cigarette he’s had in the past two hours. The earthy taste long gave way to bitterness and ash, and all it achieved was the burning ache in his lungs. The damn leaf stick did nothing to soothe his nerves. 

The closer he got to your house, the more his heart pounded. The more his stomach roiled. The more his thoughts screamed at him to turn around.  But he kept going, kept moving. Kept along the path he’d become all too familiar with. 

The conversation played in his head. He planned to keep it short and simple; a quick explanation that didn’t give too much away, but enough to hopefully not keep you wondering about him. He tried hard not to think of how you’d react. Would you be disappointed? Sad? Angry?...Maybe relieved? 

He stopped himself short of that thought, knowing he damn well shouldn't even be considering what you'd feel. This visit would be final. Cutting the cord and leaving you to live the life you intended if he'd never intervened. 

But you'd be dead if he hadn't intervened the first time... 

He sighed heavily, flicking the half-finished cigarette to the ground. Strangers came and went all the time in his life, stumbling across them in their endeavors before they requested some odd favor or another. Sometimes there would be a second encounter, maybe even a third. None of which ever led to this point. 

His stallion’s head perked, ears pricked forward as if recognizing where they were, just before Arthur veered off the main path toward the little homestead. The horse nickered in excitement, and Arthur almost smiled. His steed had made a friend of the mare, and a small pang followed knowing they too would no longer be...friends. 

It was only a short moment before the house loomed through the trees. The stallion naturally tried to tug toward the barn in the back, but Arthur kept the reins steady, steering them forward to the front of the house. “Sorry, boy,” he murmured before coming to a halt just before the porch steps. He stared up at the house, his heart suddenly racing beneath his ribs. His hand reached for his satchel, subconsciously wanting another cigarette but instead found purchase on a bottle neck. He pulled it free, uncorking the whiskey and taking a swig, the flavor immediately washing away the remaining taste of the cigarette. 

What was wrong with him? Needing courage to simply talk to you was a strange, unfamiliar feeling. He put the alcohol away and dismounted, slowly trudging up the steps to the front door. It occurred to him that he didn't even know if you were home or not, and he probably ought to have checked the barn for the mare beforehand. 

He hesitated with the thought of what if your husband was home too? That would be beyond awkward. 

He pulled the screen door away, raised his fist and knocked once, twice, three times, and waited, his ears straining for any movement on the opposite side. It was quiet, and for some reason that made his anxiety worse. He was about to turn around when the door creaked open. Arthur stood rooted, his eyes snapping to your figure in the threshold. 

His breath caught, suddenly forgetting everything he meant to say. Since his realization last night, you had been in his thoughts whether he wanted you to or not, it was just hard to push away. 

But as soon as his eyes met yours, a rock settled in his stomach. There was a stoic, cool expression on your face, lips pressed in a thin line as your gaze shifted slightly to break away from his. There was a subtle change to your expression, one that reminded him of...apprehension. 

“Hello, Arthur,” you said in a tone void of all familiarity. “May I help you with something?” 

The reaction caught him off guard. “Uh,” he huffed out, eyes briefly sliding to his feet. “I...wanna talk to ya about somethin’. May I?” 

There was a brief hesitation, but you gave a small nod and stepped aside, gesturing for entrance. He released a small breath and stepped through the threshold, his gaze sweeping over the familiar interior. He'd gotten so used to the warmth and the air filled with a savory scent, that it surprised him it was absent this time around. The door closed, and his attention moved to you. 

The way you moved was both stiff and swift, gliding over to the window overlooking the sink. The counters were bare, no pot simmering on the stove. The air, as cold as it was, felt thick with tension. Or was that his imagination? 

The silence grew, and Arthur couldn't muster up the words. He stared at your back, your shoulders hiked up as you pressed your hands against the edge of the sink. Every inch of your body was tense, as if you were just expecting bad news. Have you somehow figured out his intention for this visit? He highly doubted it, but he had to wonder... 

No, no more wayward thoughts. He mentally scolded himself. Just get over it, you idiot. 

Taking a breath, he said your name. “I wanna tell you something...” he started out. 

The speed of which you whipped around to face him caught him by surprise, your face alight with anger. “Have you come to tell me that you're a criminal on the run from the law?!” 

His breath punched out from his chest. His first instinct was to deflect, but from the look on your face, this wasn't a speculation. You'd somehow found out the truth.  

A fleeting memory brushed his mind. A man of the name Jimmy Brooks in Valentine who recognized him simply because they were both in Blackwater during the failed heist. Arthur chased him down, nearly pushed him off a cliff and helped him back up at the last second, but not without leaving a permanent impression of his character. 

He couldn't do that to you. Hell, he couldn't even fathom having an inkling of a harmful thought toward you. 

What could he do? Nothing. Nothing rational, really. There was no talking his way out of this, no threat to hang over you for holding a heavy truth. With the looming pressure of the Pinkertons on their heels is what drove them further east, how likely would it be that everyone would have to up and move AGAIN? 

Would you turn him in? 

You stared him down expectantly, as if waiting for the defense. Instead, he took a deep breath and finally responded. “So, you know.” 

“I know,” you repeated, your glare sharpening. 

“How?” He asked. 

“I was just in Blackwater, with my cousin. I saw your wanted poster,” every word slid out heated. “I can't believe I let you into my house, multiple times! Were you planning to rob me, kill my husband or—” 

“No,” his answer was sharp, but his posture remained still. “I...” he trailed off, wondering exactly how to even defend his actions for his repeated visits. 

Your eyes narrowed. “I don't believe you,” you hissed, hands gripping the edge of a nearby chair. “Your poster said you committed some heinous crimes, how am I to believe you just came around for—for stew?!” 

More than stew, he wanted to say. But that was pointless to even bring up. His gaze kept steady on you, observing the anger that was nearly tangible, rolling off you in waves. It churned his stomach the way you stared daggers at him, and he inwardly scolded himself. It shouldn't matter. Hell, this process might've just made it easier for him to cut it off now between the two of you, before it got more painful for either side. 

“Y’ gonna get the Pinkertons?” He asked before the question even fully formed in his mind. “Turn me in? I'm sure that $5,000 reward would be more than enough for you n’ Frederick.” 

Now it was your turn to be caught off guard. You reeled back on your heels as if his words slapped you, your eyes widening for a fraction of a second before returning to that cold hard scowl. “I should,” you growled. “From what I've heard, you and your...gang caused a lot of mayhem and death.” 

Arthur gave a half shrug. “Never said I was a Saint,” he chuckled darkly. “Sorry to disappoint.” 

“Disappoint? More like horrify!” You exclaimed. “All this time I've had a wanted man in my home,” you shook your head. “I should've known after that day...with the O’Driscolls...” 

The memory of the bloody massacre that occurred just outside of Valentine flickered to life. The shock on your face when you’d learned he killed at least a dozen of them and got away with non life-threatening injuries. 

“Only to find out you’re no different!” 

That caused Arthur to jolt. “I ain't nothin’ like those Irish bastards!” He exclaimed. “They kidnap n’ kill for fun, n’ a lot worse if they get the goddamned chance!” 

“And you don't?!” You demanded. 

“Course not,” he growled. “I'm mean, nasty, an ugly sunova bitch, but I don't kill for fun. I don't take pleasure in none of that.” 

Your brow furrowed, and there was a second of hesitation before you spoke, “But you've hurt people. Killed. Robbed! How does that make you better than them?!” 

Arthur scoffed. “I never said it did,” his arm snapped in the air with an exasperated flourish. “But I don't tolerate the O’Driscolls. I got no hard feelings about killin’ them that day.” 

You said nothing then, your mouth set in a hard line as you stared hotly at him, body tensed like a bowstring. “And why do you keep coming back here?” You demanded. “Trying to make friends and rob me in the night?!” 

“I said no already!” Arthur snapped incredulously. “If that were my plan, I would've done it weeks ago!” 

“Then what reason, Arthur?” You repeated. “What about me captures the interest of a notorious outlaw?!” 

Arthur took a deep breath. “Nothin’ with ill intent,” he grumbled. 

“So, what? I'm to assume your intentions were noble, then?” You sarcastically quip. 

Arthur’s gaze locked to yours. “I ever gave you a reason I was here to take advantage of your kindness?” 

The tension in your body loosened a touch. “No,” you admit, your brow furrowing with thought. “No...y-you've been nothing but kind.” 

Kind was not a word he'd ever use to describe himself. And he wondered again what was the purpose of continuing this argument, to convince you despite his background, his intentions were nothing nefarious. 

The glimmer of common sense once again touched his mind. He should've left with the first accusation; to leave you believing he was just another monster to make the severed connection sting less. But that thought bothered him more than he'd like to admit. 

“But how do I know you're not fooling me?” You asked, the tone in your voice softer now but your face was still tense. “You said you're mean and nasty, but...you've never acted that way toward me.” 

Arthur folded his arms across his chest, his eyes shifting to the worn floorboards. The answer burned in his throat, with every thought and realization that appeared in the last twenty-four hours, but he kept it clamped tight. 

The silence stretched between the two of you. He knew you waited for him to answer, but his response would be the second most illogical part of this day. Lord, why didn't he just leave it be and stayed put in Lemoyne? This trip was a bad idea, not only risking sight by the Pinkertons, but also further involving himself with you when he meant to just end it? 

He was stupid, an utter imbecile. 

The creak of the floorboards caught his attention, and he looked to see you take one step closer, an inquisitive look on your face. “Why, Arthur?” You pressed. 

He gritted his teeth, looking away again. His heart began to pound, and his fingers itched toward the satchel for another cigarette, or a gulp of whiskey, whatever found its way into his grasp first. 

“Arthur, will you please answer me?” You took another step, your figure appearing in his peripheral. 

His breath shuddered. “You wouldn't believe me if I told you,” he finally said. “Or you'd hate me even more.” 

Without waiting for your response, he turned away to face the door. But before his hand rested on the knob, a soft and warm grasp wrapped around his forearm. 

“Do not walk away without finishing this,” you said with a fierce growl that surprised him. He flicked his gaze over his shoulder to you, noting the determination on your features. “I called you my friend and friends don't do that to one another.” 

“Friend?” He expelled a harsh, humorless laugh. “After all that you found out about me, you'd still call me that?” 

“Answer the damn question, Arthur Morgan! Why would I not believe you?” you countered. 

Arthur flinched for a split second, and his heart began to hammer. You uttering his last name when he’d only revealed his first just confirmed the revelation of his truth. Why couldn't you just leave well enough alone? Why couldn't you just let him go? 

Physically, you had no true hold on him. Not that he'd make an attempt to hurt you, but he could easily rip himself from your grasp and hurry out without a second glance despite what you'd say or do to pry an answer. 

Emotionally? It was like that hand on his arm gripped his heart. The silent plea that lingered behind your hard, impatient gaze. The hard line of your mouth as you stared him down. It was as if you were somehow compelling him to stay without even saying a word. 

God damn it. 

It was like his walls slowly crumbled as his body turned to face you again. But he couldn't look in your eyes to even admit this to you, because he didn't deserve to. 

“Maybe...” he began, staring at your feet from beneath the brim of his hat. “Because I'm a damn fool in thinkin’ you'd remain nothin’ but a stranger to me.” 

There was a second of silence. “What?” You asked, confusion coloring your tone. 

His chest heaved, the lingering effect of those cigarettes still tainting his airways. Or maybe that was the nervousness that made it suddenly harder to breathe. “At some point, I...fell...for you.” He finally admitted quietly. 

The silence stretched for more than a few heartbeats now. Blood roared in his ears at a rhythmic rate as he waited for a response. But there was none. Slowly, he lifted his gaze, traveling up your body until his eyes were level with yours again. 

You looked absolutely dumbfounded. Your brows furrowed and your lips parted as if whatever words you were trying to say were snatched away. He waited for your response. The denial, the disbelief. The reminder that you were married. The demand to get out of the house so he would never have to even shadow your doorstep again. 

The silence once again stretched, becoming heavier by each passing second. The more he waited, the more turbulent his stomach became. He wasn't sure what was worse; his admittance or our absolute silence. He'd much rather you explode on him in anger than this. 

“Comin’ here today was a mistake,” he finally murmured, once again attempting to turn towards the door. Your grip tightened. 

“Arthur...” your voice was barely audible. 

“I know you ain't deaf,” he said. “Cause there ain't no way you wanna speak to me after that.” 

“Arthur, hang on,” you said again, louder this time. 

His head swung to look at you. “Why?” He demanded. “If you had any sense, you'd be tellin’ me to leave!” 

That hard stare returned as you pursed your lips for a moment. “Was that the reason why you showed up today?” You asked thickly. “To tell me...that?” 

“No, I came here to tell you I was leavin’,” he clarified, finally able to give the reason. 

“Leaving?” you repeated, the tone in your voice seemed...offended? That confused him. 

“Yes,” he gritted out, mentally shaking clear of the brief bewilderment. 

“Why?” 

The sigh he emitted may as well echo around the entire damn state. “Why d’ you think?” he asked flatly. “Can’t stay in one place too long, or else risk gettin’ caught. ‘Sides, it ain’t worth the trouble stayin’ when...” he trailed off as the next words halted just behind his lips. When the realization of his feelings toward you would end in nothing but a quickly dashed dream. 

You sucked in a breath then. From the look on your face, it was clear you knew what he meant, and he wasn’t even sure how to feel about it anymore. He’d done the deed, and now it was time to move on. Leave this God-forsaken state behind and return to that little peninsula he wasn’t sure if it were marginally better. 

No, not by any means was Clemens Point any better than...than here. 

Taking a deep breath, Arthur turned again, reaching out to pull the door open. The handle felt too cold even in his gloved hand, and it seemed like the damn thing stuck for a second before finally giving way. 

“Wait,” 

For whatever reason he paused, looking over his shoulder at you. At that moment you took a few steps closer. The anger had since melted away from your features, but a look of...something else...replaced it. It was a familiar look, but he couldn’t place the emotion. 

“I shouldn’t,” he murmured, the door creaking open further. 

“I...” you audibly swallowed, eyes closing for a moment before opening again. Your voice dropped low and rough, as if you were on the verge of tears. “I don’t want you to leave.” 

Those words froze him in place. He recognized it now, what was traversing through your mind. Shit, he’d seen too often over the years, but had become numb to it when it wasn’t relevant to him. When love and romance no longer held a place in his life. A look of longing. 

Hosea’s words echoed in his mind. I know that look of longing. He spun around. It was on the tip of his tongue to demand why all over again, when you drew closer, only a mere half-foot between the two of you. Your eyes were wide and shining with a penetrating stare. A jolt shot through his heart when he was suddenly reminded of the early morning he found you crying by the fireplace. 

And it occurred to him then, he never wanted to see you cry over another man again. 

His hands, his damned hands, acting as if detached from his mind, rose and slowly settled on your hips. You didn’t move from his touch, your own hands appearing to rest lightly on his chest. 

The silence weighed like the thick morning mist in Lemoyne. His skin tingled pleasantly from your touch, as if awakening a sense that had long since lay dormant. A single tear slid down your cheek, and his right hand automatically raised to wipe it away, his palm lingering against your soft, warm cheek. 

“Arthur...” you sighed thickly, your face leaning into his touch. “Please...” 

Don’t leave. 

The unsaid phrase rung in his head as if spoken out loud. His lips pursed and the internal war raged again. He may not be a good man, but pursuing you would certainly tip the scales more against him than they already were. He didn’t deserve you, and you didn’t deserve an unruly outlaw to steal you away from an honest working man. 

But the way you stared at him spoke legions.  

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, and you inched closer, the unspoken plea growing more intense on your face. His breath caught. 

“Y' need to tell me to leave,” Arthur whispered roughly, the hand on your hip flexing. Beneath the pounding of his heart, he hoped you’d take that one last chance to banish him from your life entirely. 

“No,” you said firmly despite the glassy sheen in your eyes. “I want you to stay.” 

He took a deep, stuttering breath. Morals be damned, he couldn’t just walk away now. Not when you had him like this... 

Arthur dipped his head at the same time you stretched up. Lips met, warm and soft, foreign and familiar. The last of the brooding thoughts all but shriveled away the moment the kiss began, but others crashed over him like a wave. It’d been too long without another in his arms, too long since he sought the comfort of another body. 

But you weren’t a body. 

His mouth moved, slowly and gently against yours. It was a tentative, almost nervous move, as if waiting for your refusal. None came though as you reciprocated, matching his movement with your own. Breaths were exchanged between slightly parted mouths with each passing second, the kiss deepening with a slow, heady ascension. The hand on your cheek slid to the back of your neck, tangling into your tresses. 

Every nerve in his body sparked to life in a way he’d forgotten. A rush of excitement and anticipation flooding his senses. He parted from you with just mere inches, his forehead resting against yours. It seemed both of you were out of breath. 

Your hands still fisted in his shirt, but your body was pressed to his in the most pleasant way. 

There were no words, not a single phrase to even describe how he was feeling that moment. His lips tingled, his mind buzzed. All he wanted to do was to hold you, to kiss you, to... 

Your hands suddenly left his chest and you stepped free of his grasp. In the moment of loss and confusion, thinking he’d somehow overstepped, you took his hand in yours and began to lead him to...oh. 

His heart shot to his throat as the door next to the guest room opened, revealing a bedroom not too different than the other, but somehow it seemed more personal, more lived in. He didn’t really have time to ponder the similarities when the door shut, and your arms slid around his neck. 

Arthur’s eyes widened, his stomach knotting as he gazed down at you. There didn’t have to be any acknowledgement of what was on your mind. 

You wanted...him? 

That couldn’t be right. 

His eyes flicked to the immaculately made bed, the quilt soft and clean. That’s where you slept every night, alone...mostly. 

And you wanted him to take you in that very same bed. 

His teeth grit, suddenly remembering that damn dream. How you felt on top of him, the way his body responded to your touch and kiss. Would it be the same in real life? 

What should it matter, he was not worthy of your desire. It was a miracle you didn’t push him away after that kiss. 

“I...” he trailed off. 

You smiled sweetly at him; the sort of smile that made his insides knot even more. “I want this, Arthur,” you assured him, arms briefly leaving his neck to grasp his hands, placing them at your hips again. 

Do you? He wanted to ask, but he felt the warmth of your body through the dress you wore. His eyes fluttered shut as the meaning sunk in. You trusted him, even though just minutes ago you were screaming at him about his chosen life. Maybe it was your naivety, or your loneliness, the urge to have company in the absence of your husband, or— 

“Arthur,” 

His eyes shot open again, seeing the smile had softened on your lips. 

“I promise you, I want this,” you repeated sincerely. “But if you don’t, then—” 

He wasn’t sure what possessed him, but he silenced you with another kiss. It was rougher than the first, and the gasp of surprise from you was quickly replaced with a soft moan. Your arms were around his neck again, and he tugged you flush with his body. The knots of anxiety dissipated, replaced by a familiar sense of arousal. He leaned into you, forcing you to back up until the resistance of the bed met the back of your legs. 

His hand tangled in your hair once more, holding you to him as he pushed past your lips, exploring your mouth with a clumsy eagerness. Your leg hitched up as your ass rested on the edge of the bed, your inner thigh resting against his hip and damn if that miniscule movement didn’t excite him. 

What was he, a teenager? 

He stopped, fully aware of how his body was positioned over yours. He pulled back slightly just to say, “I want it, I guess I’m jus’ waitin’ for you to stop me,” he growled, finally admitting his thoughts of turmoil. 

“I won’t stop you,” you said breathlessly, a hand resting in this stubbled cheek. “I... need you.” 

He groaned at your words as arousal swelled in his lower stomach, gathering beneath his slowly tightening pants. His other hand soon busied, resting upon your chest to fiddle with the buttons of the dress. One by one he popped them open, revealing the thinner fabric underneath. A brief, clumsy moment passed as the two of you managed to peel the infuriating thing off, throwing it to the side and leaving you in just your undergarments. 

He paused then, eyes slowly roving over your body. He’d seen women in their undergarments before. Hell, living in a camp with next to no privacy, it was a familiar sight. A sight he never paid any mind to. But you...you were different. 

A memory surfaced, one that brought a myriad of emotions. Last time he had a woman like this was... 

“Arthur?” 

He blinked, bringing his focus to you again. The smile on your face was warm, and your hand reached up to cup his cheek. 

“Touch me where you’d like,” you said. “Anywhere.” 

Arthur let out a shuddering breath, erasing the prior thought from his mind. He lowered his gaze again, down your neck to the stretch of exposed skin between your collarbones and the swells of your breasts outlined by a chemise, the curvature accentuated by the corset on top. 

Anywhere... 

He raised a hand to tentatively cup your cheek for the briefest of moments before he trailed his fingers down, tracing the curve of your jaw, down the line of your neck, to the soft skin of your chest. You were warm, so warm...your heart fluttered beneath his palm. 

The corset was simple; clasps down the front. Slowly and deftly, he popped each clasp open, revealing just how sheer that chemise was. 

Your chest rose in a deep breath, and he couldn’t help but to give a slight smirk. He knew these damn things could be difficult to wear at times, but what lay beneath was a sight to behold. As the restriction fell from your waist completely, your back arched to him, your hips sliding deliciously across his, and he sucked in a breath of his own, momentarily distracted by the sweet friction. 

You smiled up at him encouragingly, but a mischievous glimmer briefly sparked in your eyes. You were playful. 

And that only pushed him further. 

His hands grasped at your hips, sliding his fingertips underneath the chemise to explore more of your curves. The fabric bunched up with the further his hands went, exposing your navel to the underside of your breasts, until your arms raised, and he obliged by sliding it off completely. 

Before he could even admire your top half, your hands reached to shimmy your underwear down, and Arthur could only stare as more skin was exposed to him, until you were completely bare. 

He stopped completely then, a breath caught in his throat to take your body in its entirety. Everything about you looked so beautiful; soft skin and curves, your nipples puckered in anticipation, the shadowed V between your legs a beckoning paradise. 

His eyes slowly met yours and he could see a slight flush to your face, but there was no shyness. You didn’t hide any part of you from him. 

His cock pulsed at the mere sight. 

“Are you just going to stare, Arthur?” you said in a soft but challenging voice. 

Hell no. But God damn if his thoughts didn’t give him pause. He wanted to fuck like he hadn’t in ages, to claim you in such an intimate way that there’d be no doubts who’d be on your mind for weeks to come. 

But he wasn’t that type of person anymore. 

He swallowed silently, searching your eyes one last time for any lingering doubt. But he couldn’t find it. 

And you didn’t give him the chance to consider his own. Your hand fisted in his shirt, pulling him down for a kiss. That mercifully erased anything else out of his mind, as he explored your mouth a second time, his hands going for the softness of your breasts, kneading the flesh and pinching your nipples. A soft cry escaped from your mouth that he swallowed eagerly. 

He almost melted when the heat of your touch found its way to the crotch of his pants. You gripped him through the fabric, and he groaned in response, his hips twitching in search of more friction. 

But he wasn't greedy, not in that sense. 

One hand left your breast to slide down your abdomen, the curls of your center brushing his fingertips. Two fingers parted your outer folds, where he was faintly surprised to find you were soaked. 

Oh, Lord. 

Arthur pulled back just an inch or two, a spike of disbelief springing through the haze of pleasure. You wanted him so damn badly. 

The look you gave him only further confirmed this. Impatience wrinkled your brow as you wiggled underneath his grasp, and your hand slid along his length, still hidden by his jeans. 

He breathed out a low hiss. Fuck, you were making it even harder to not succumb entirely and just fuck you raw and senseless. 

“Easy now,” he rumbled, his pointer finger prodding for that bundle of nerves and found it almost immediately. The tentative swirl he made caused you to moan again. “Jus’ makin’ sure you're ready.” 

He soon picked up a rhythm, and your breath caught in a gasp as he increased his speed. “M-more than,” you stuttered breathlessly. 

A smile tugged on Arthur’s lips, and he swiped his finger through your slit. Yeah, you'd been ready, but he wanted to watch you...watch you release first. 

It was like slipping into a memory, one of a younger Arthur, where lust often controlled the forefront of his mind more nights than he could count. A saloon girl once showed him what it meant to bring pleasure to a woman, in more ways than one. There was a time where he was too impatient to care, but learned really quickly how much of a better experience it was if his partner found hers first. 

It’d been years since that lesson, but the picture was still vivid. And picking up the act was like muscle memory. His slid a finger into your heat, marveling at how wet you were. Your inner walls pulsed as he thrust, slowly at first, but then increased his pace. 

You writhed beneath him, the sweet noises passing your lips were so pretty. His name was a soft whine, one that almost pushed him to drop his pants in that very moment. 

But he kept going, entranced by how stunning you were. Your hips bucked up as he added another finger. Your hand clamped onto his forearm, as if encouraging him to do even more. 

Arthur sucked air between his teeth, fighting the urge to give completely into his desires. Your nails dug into the skin of his arm, that sweet sting sending a small jolt of grounding. 

“Arthur,” you gasped, “I-I’m almost there!” 

He moved even faster then, swirling his thumb against your clit while his fingers slid through the velvety wetness. You swore out loud, hips snapping up into his palm as your inner walls tensed, followed by a gush of sinful heat. 

As your body slowly relaxed, he withdrew his hand, eyes fixated on how his fingers glistened in the light. He then shifted his attention to your face, flushed and mouth parted in shallow breaths. He waited for that realization of regret, the one that would inevitably come after the post-orgasmic haze faded. 

But he could detect none of that. As your eyes met his, there was that sweet smile again, that indication that you were 100% for this. You beckoned him closer. 

“You sure?” he asked quietly, giving you one last out. 

“Yes,” you said with firm conviction. You sat up, gaze never leaving his as you reached for his shirt, beginning to unbutton. 

God, he knew he was going to Hell, but he might as well enjoy the ride before then. 

He shrugged off his shirt just as you reached the final button, then working on the union suit beneath just as you reached his pants. He was disrobed in just under a minute, baring himself and his arousal for you. 

He held his breath as you eyed him from head to toe, waiting for you to find a flaw, to tell him he was too plain or ugly to be with you. But there wasn’t any sort of comment. You instead reached to wrap your fingers around his length, and your soft skin against him made his hips twitch in search of that sweet friction. You smiled again, sliding your palm from root to tip, and he groaned softly, closing his eyes and reveling in a feeling that had been lost to him for years. His own roughened hand could never replace this. 

“Arthur,” 

He opened his eyes to look at you again. 

“Take me, please.” 

It was just that one simple request that drove him forward, pressing you back down to the bed, caging you between his arms. He held your gaze as he lined himself up, your legs widening to accommodate. 

“I...ain’t done this in a while,” he admitted almost shyly. Hell, it’s been years. “I may not last long.” 

You reached up to touch his cheek. “That’s okay.” 

He breathed in then, spurred by your touch and the absence of judgement. How were you even real? How was this even happening? It had to be a dream. 

A dream be damned, he pushed his hips forward, sliding the head of his manhood through your folds, coating himself in your wetness before finding your entrance. 

He inched forward slowly, feeling you accept him with ease. He bit his lip as he managed to fully sheath himself into your warmth, the pleasure almost dizzying. 

“Fuck,” he hissed out, and your legs hitched up to wrap around his waist. 

That did it. 

He began to move then, thrusting almost hesitantly, watching your face as it twisted with ecstasy. Soon he entered a smooth rhythm, his eyes never leaving you. Your arms wrapped around neck, nails dragging along his back. 

He hissed again, the sting spurring him just a bit faster. Your head kicked back with a breathy moan, exposing the length of your neck. He dipped down and pressed kisses along your damp skin, feeling the vibration of your pleasure against his lips. 

Your hips snapped up to meet his thrust. The motion brought him even deeper; the sensation causing his arms to tremble. This would surely end him, the way you manipulated him with just simple movements. 

“Arthur,” you moaned, so sweetly, breathily dragging his name like a song. 

No, that would end him right then. 

He squeezed his eyes shut as if that would stave off the impending release. As rusty as he was, he'd feel like shit if this was over in the next ten seconds. 

As your hips rolled along, he halted and let out a shuddering breath, one hand flying to grip your flesh. It was partly in control, partly in warning. Any more movement from you and... 

Your eyes met his and you seemed to understand his silent plea, relaxing underneath him, a small smile quirking the corner of your lips. 

His breath was one of relief, refocusing on his rhythm. Slow and deep, every inch such sweet delicious torture. Your body so warm and slick, your voice melodic. God, how was he NOT dreaming? 

But here you were beneath him still, taking him without judgement or hesitation. No inkling of pain or regret. “Faster, please,” you whined, your eyes hooded and fluttering with pleasure. 

Faster. He was doing good enough for you to demand that. He obliged immediately, losing himself in the lust and pleasure, in you. His head bowed, resting his forehead against your shoulder as he drove you deeper into the bed. The scent of your skin, soap and herbal, the gasps of your ecstasy in rhythm with his skin slapping against you, the rake of your nails down his back, all invaded his senses. 

Your breath hitched and your voice heightened, your body arching against his. You didn't have to vocalize your second release, not when your inner walls squeezed around him. 

Arthur groaned out a low curse, lifting his head to watch your face. Beautiful, stunning, absolutely ethereal were the words he could describe you in this moment, and it still wasn’t enough. 

Your hips bucked to meet his again, though he could tell it wasn’t on purpose. The claws of your orgasm caused you to jerk and twitch beneath him. He grit his teeth, caught between so desperately wanting to fight the building release and chasing it to completion. 

But he couldn’t fight it again, not when he’s been out of practice— 

It barreled down his stomach faster than he could process. He let out another curse and with one final slam of his hips against yours, he pulled out of your delicious heat just as he released. He groaned deeply as his seed spurt out in ropes along your belly. 

His heart raced, his breath shallow as he still hovered over you, watching your face as your gaze drifted from below, slowly back to him, your own breathing matching his. 

Silence fell, each breath taken quieting and evening out. Your eyes never left his. 

As the post-orgasmic haze began to clear, Arthur’s mind began to buzz. The mental fortitude he’d constructed in those previous moments began to falter, and he was expecting the inevitable. For you to push him away, to demand he’d leave. Hell, he should get up and leave as if this never happened. 

But you didn’t. 

Maybe this was a dream after all. 

Your hand raised to cup his cheek, a small pucker appearing between your brows. “Arthur, are you okay?” 

His eyes closed at your touch, realizing his face must’ve given away his thoughts. There were a hundred responses to that loaded question, but how could he explain what his deep thoughts and feelings were, just after you shared an amazing moment together? 

“Yes,” he finally said, opening his eyes. “I jus’...I ain’t been with anyone in a long while.” 

It was the truth of it all, with so much more behind it. 

Your eyes softened at this, and a small smile crossed your lips, and you leaned up to place a quick kiss on his other cheek. “You did just fine, if you’re worried about that.” 

He let out a small laugh. You didn’t understand the real meaning behind his words, but he couldn’t blame you. There was so much and so little he shared with you. But damn if your words didn’t inflate the small flicker of pride that swelled in his chest. 

Pride, not the usual self-deprecation that followed a compliment. It was just enough to squander those old feelings, at least for the time being. 

What would these few moments of paradise lead to next, he couldn’t help but to wonder. 

His downfall? 

[mysadcorner]

On christmas holidays from uni rn, so lots of posts to come!!! Send all those requests in within the rules!

Especially Arthur Morgan. I’ve replayed rdr2 again and I’ve never got over him. Even his voice actor if wanted

[photo1030]

Leather and Lace - Chapter 18: Feelings Revealed

Part 4 - SEE ME, FEEL ME, TOUCH ME, HEAL ME

Summary: You and Arthur finally have your first night together.

Warning: 18+ please, Minors - DNI; This is a long one, too.

*I had another title for this, but as I was listening to The Who, this lyric began to play as I was editing and it just seemed to fit this chapter perfectly. 

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*These are NOT my images. However, I have seen them in multiple versions and on multiple sources. So I don't know who the owners are to credit. But if anyone knows, let me know.

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Arthur gets a small fire going outside the lean-to hunting shelter. The fire burns a deep red and vibrant yellow as the flames lick up around the logs. It’s a soft and comforting sight, the popping and crackling of the wood drowning out all other sounds in the forest this evening. The sky is deepening to a majestic royal purple hue, with its diamond-glittering stars emerging like a crown. The glow of the fire casts its light only upon your little shelter and the immediate area surrounding it as if protecting you inside of an intimate little sphere made just for the two of you. 

With his task complete, Arthur moves into the shelter and sits down on the ground, nervously wiping his hands on the sides of his pants as he looks over and watches as you flit about to fix the make-shift bedding. You’ve rolled out his bedroll and fanned out a blanket overtop. You’ve even taken off your jacket, rolling it into a pillow of sorts and tucking it under the other fabrics. 

Part of your fidgeting is because you want everything to be perfect. The other part is because you are so nervous. Although, you are not really sure why. Arthur is the one person in the world who you feel the most comfortable and safe with. And yet, with all of the previous restrictions and obstacles now removed, you almost feel more vulnerable than ever.  

When you finish fidgeting with the bedroll and blanket, you turn and look down at him, meeting his gaze with a shy smile gracing your features. You nervously bite your bottom lip as you hesitate for just a moment before you hike up your skirts. Loosely balling the cotton into your hands to show just the slightest amount of your calves, you move to sit on Arthur’s lap. And straddling his hips so that you can face him, you slowly lower yourself down on top of his folded legs. 

He tentatively sets his hands on your hips to help guide you down. Your hands come to rest upon the sides of his neck and shoulders for support, but you leave them there for a few moments after you settle, the muscle and bulk of his body keenly radiating through your fingertips.

Arthur’s hands carefully come up around your neck, his long fingers stretching around to the back and into your hair as his thumbs brush against your chin. He cradles your face, staring as if he hasn't seen you in years, because now he sees you in a whole new light, more radiant and precious to him than ever before. 

You and Arthur simply sit and stare at each other with no words spoken, neither of you sure where to even begin. And yet the anticipation is epic. The comforting silence that encompasses the air is like that that follows the rain. The soft crackling of the fire just outside the shelter is the only sound you hear besides your measured breathing.

Excitement fills your mind as you cannot believe that this is finally happening. But suddenly, you have the fear that Arthur is going to change his mind about this whole thing; that he’s going to get up and bolt from you. Now that you are actually here alone together, you are filled with insecurity. What if he doesn’t like what he sees? You are not the prettiest girl in camp. What if you're too forward? What if you're not forward enough? (He is an outlaw after all.) 

But your whole internal struggle is ridiculous, because Arthur is having the same exact conversation with himself in his own mind right now. He’s ugly. He’s riddled with scars and calluses. He’s older than you, too. And, he is not a good man.

But what neither of you realize is that despite how broken you both are, you are exactly what the other wants and needs. 

His hands release your face, smoothing down over your shoulders and arms to now rest gingerly on your upper thighs. Arthur’s mind races as he stares at you perched so perfectly upon his lap, right where he’s always wanted you. He wrestles with his self-doubt, but in contrast, he also has to deal with his own heated desires. He's wanted you for so, so long. It is all he can do to restrain himself from throwing you down and roughly taking you here and now. 

But eventually, your hand lifts and moves slowly like a butterfly hovering in the air to lay across his cheek. His skin is warm and his beard stubble tickles the palm of your hand. Arthur slowly closes his eyes the moment your fingers graze his skin. He slightly leans into your hand as he places his own massive one overtop of yours to hold it in place, basking in the tenderness found there. It is like a gift that he’s rarely received in his life, and his reaction to your simple gesture almost makes your heart break for him.

Your fingers soon leave his face and proceed to his neck to pull at the knot of his neckerchief which quickly comes off and gets tossed to the side. Then your thumbs gracefully hook under his suspenders to lower them down off his broad shoulders. Although your movements are fluid like water, you can feel Arthur’s whole body begin to stiffen a bit in apprehension under you. 

With the suspenders out of the way, you drift back up to the collar of his shirt, hesitating but just for a moment. You slowly begin to unbutton, working the fasteners back through the holes with slightly shaking fingers. Your eyes follow the trail of your fingers, but Arthur’s gaze never leaves your face, watching you so intently as you work. The glow of the fire outside warms your skin and causes copper flecks to dance in your eyes. He takes note how your breathing has become a bit faster, yet shallow. He’s not sure if it is from nervousness or second thoughts.

When you get to the last button at his waistline your hands float up again, resembling the wingspan of a dove, and tuck under the collar. You slowly push the worn cotton fabric back and off of Arthur’s massive shoulders. Your fingertips trace along the thick sinewy muscles of his arms as you continue to push the fabric down to reveal more of his skin to you. The cool air nips at his skin the moment it is exposed. However, it’s a welcoming sensation to wake him up and anchor him to the present before he drifts off entirely and loses himself. 

Once freed from the garment, your fingertips retrace their path, dancing back up along Arthur’s arms again until they find his shoulders. They continue to explore along his strong neck and move back up to cradle his jawline, until you are holding his handsome face in your hands once more. You pull Arthur in to you for another kiss; slow, deep and passionate. You close your eyes, savoring the taste of his lips. This kiss, just this simple kiss is all it takes for your heart to lose its balance. And all you want to do is fall. 

Arthur’s hands suddenly leave your hips to clutch at your back hungrily while you kiss. He pulls at the bottom of your blouse, lifting it up enough so that he can place his hand onto the bare skin of your lower back, which is softer than he could’ve imagined. 

You lean back from him just enough to catch your breath, reluctant to break the kiss, and take the opportunity to pull your blouse and chemise over your head and toss it to the side, leaving yourself now chest bare before Arthur. The movement causes your hair to ruffle, the locks falling softly like fire ash in the wind to frame your face. 

Arthur blinks a few times and locks onto your eyes, as if testing if his are allowed to roam. At this precarious little moment, he is literally standing on the precipice of no return, and happily waiting to plunge over the side and into your arms.

Your soft smile gives him permission to explore and Arthur swallows thickly as he lets his gaze draw down your face and over your delicate throat, where he catches the skin flicker as you swallow and your pulse quickens. His eyes continue to float down across the delicate curve of your clavicle, until finally landing on your breasts. You watch his reaction closely, noticing his breath hitch slightly as you feel his body shift underneath you. 

Arthur sits motionless, taking in the sight and taking time to appreciate the sheer beauty before him. He has waited and prayed for this moment and he wants not a second of it to be rushed. You reach down and collect his left hand into both of your own and bring it to your lips to softly kiss his dirt-stained knuckles before placing his hand on your right breast, closing his thick fingers around it. A soft puff of air huffs out of his nose at the intimate contact. Arthur draws his thumb across the bud of your nipple and gently squeezes the flesh, amazed at how supple it is. 

You slowly remove your left hand from his and reach to set it upon his firm chest, trailing your fingers through the soft curls of golden-brown hair that is scattered across his body. You start at his collarbone and drift downward before placing your small, delicate palm directly over his heart. 

"I can feel your heartbeat." You smile, pausing to experience the fluttering under your fingertips. "Can you feel mine?" you innocently ask him, staring at him with wide and hopeful eyes. You look at Arthur as if he is so special, so wondrous, that the feeling seems so foreign to him; almost as if it actually hurts him to be gazed upon so intensely like this. But it is not so much as the way you look at him, but how you can’t bring yourself to look at anything else.  

“I feel your heart, your breath, your skin, your hair," he rambles as he gently pulls at a lock. "…everything.” 

The poor man is so overwhelmed. All of his senses are saturated:  seeing you perched on his lap so close that he can count the freckles on your cheeks, your honeyed voice and soft giggles of excitement ringing in his ears. He can taste you on his lips as you kiss. 

And the kisses… dear God, you have lips so soft yet firm that they draw the very breath from his lungs. The feeling of your tongues rolling over each other is heavenly. But it’s your touch that does him in. When you caress Arthur’s tired face, or run your hand along his strong and burdened shoulders, he sweetly shudders beneath you. 

It's been a long time since Arthur has done this; has allowed someone else to touch him in this way. Sure, there were Mary and Eliza, with the occasional working girl for the dire release, but those instances were far and few between. But Arthur has cut himself off for so long that he can’t even remember the last time he was touched like this. He can't even stand to look at himself, how could he manage to let a woman see him in this state? 

Touch starved doesn’t even begin to describe it. And Arthur didn't notice how bad it was until the moment you ran your fingers along his bare arms and chest, your fingers caressing his face. Or, maybe it is just that it is specifically you touching him that is driving him crazy with desire right now.

You eventually begin to explore his body, and trace your fingers along several scars in particular along his chest, arms, and torso, mesmerized by them. Some are larger than others. Some are less angry-looking as time has healed them. But all show the contrast between an old wound and the tanned skin they bury into. 

Being self conscious, Arthur instantly stiffens and tries not to instinctively recoil from you as your attention focuses on his scars. You don't pull back in revulsion as he had expected you to. But you simply stare and curiously run your finger over each one that you can find, like studying the fine thread work of a tapestry, and wondering how it got there. 

"I know I ain’t much to look at for you," Arthur mutters lowly and embarrassed. 

The comment causes you to look up into his eyes with a twinkle in your own before you lean over and softly begin to kiss each scar that you can reach with your lips. Each patch of hardened tissue is a target of your divine attention. The gesture catches Arthur off-guard and his eyes roll shut with a sigh at the feeling of your delicate lips on his damaged skin.

After a few moments of sweetly-delivered kisses, you sit up to look him in the eye again. "Your scars aren’t ugly, Arthur. They tell your story.” Your voice is an angelic whisper, both light-hearted and earnest at the same time; almost childlike in its wonderment. “They are a testament to how strong you really are, and of all of the things you’ve been through. Others would have crumbled under half the weight you’ve had to endure. You're like a tree; strong and weathered, and where everyone takes refuge." 

Your hands dance along his chest again until your index finger lands on one scar in particular that is about three inches from his heart. Your face turns dark for a second, your brows furrowed at the thought of the glaring hardship that he unquestioningly assumes on behalf of everyone else that he cares for. 

"You take the brunt of the storm while everyone is protected by you, Arthur." You gaze at him from under your thick lashes with a look of concern that darkens your once-bright face, worried about his well-being. 

“Yeah, I’m rough and gnarled like an ol’ oak tree”, he sighs with a sad little self-deprecating grin as his fingertips drum nervously on your back.

The effervescent giggle that bubbles from your lips at his statement is music to his ears as that grin of yours that Arthur loves so much blooms across your cheeks.

“Yes, you’re rough, I’ll give you that,” you chuckle in agreement. “But, also like an old oak tree, every once in awhile, Arthur, you show the most magnificent colors.” The demure little smile that graces your face is enough to make Arthur’s heart stop. 

He’s not used to this. He’s been denied attention for so long. Which is ironic, as all you want to do is touch him: run your fingers along his face, draw your leg along his, push yourself up against his bare chest. It's hard for you to imagine anyone ever thinking Arthur is not enough as he is all that you ever seem to think about.

Arthur pulls you to him again for more kisses which you happily reciprocate. The more you touch each other, the more the two of you relax and let go of the inhibitions and hesitations; the comfort settling upon you two like a warm blanket. Your kisses quickly lead to tight embraces, holding each other so close that it's possible that a rib may crack. Heavy breathing and gentle, needy moaning begins to fill the quiet night air.

Getting bolder, Arthur places hot, wet lips along your jawline, down your neck and over your collarbone, getting more and more greedy as your chin gently drops back to grant him access to the sensitive skin underneath. A contented sigh pulls from your slightly gaped mouth as his tongue darts out to leave trails along that soft spot on your chest above your breasts. Your arms affectionately cradle his head to you as your fingers comb through the amber-colored locks of his hair that are forever-embedded with faint hints of woodsmoke.

It is such a blissful moment as you feel each other wrapped in the other’s arms, held so close that every inch of you is heightened and yearning for more. 

Arthur eventually rolls you to lay you down, his own body pinning the side of yours to the ground. Your leg lifts to intertwine with his as your arms slot under his own like a puzzle piece as he deepens the passion with hungry lips and curious hands. Closing your eyes only enhances the extension of his touch as he continues. Everywhere Arthur’s fingers and lips graze, the sensation bursts forth to travel the entire scope of your body.

He eventually sits up on his knees, straddling your right leg, to pull at the strings of your skirt. He’s trying not to get impatient when his giant fingers fumble with the ties. But quick enough, the waistline comes loose and Arthur’s fingers hook underneath and slowly pull the fabric back to expose your hips, and all their glory in between, before showcasing your legs. 

Arthur’s hand comes up to cover his mouth in awe as he takes in the sight of you lying naked beneath him. Slightly embarrassed under his heated gazed, you instinctively pull your legs up a bit, curling in on yourself like a potato bug to try to hide from the exposure. Upon seeing your reaction, Arthur gives you a reassuring smile and leans overtop of you to protectively shield you from the world outside the shelter. His hand caresses your face, a gesture so gentle that belies his gruff exterior. 

“You are so beautiful, you know that?” he whispers to you, kissing your temple. But Arthur’s compliment only makes your cheeks turn as red as the fire outside as you hide your face into his bare chest. 

“Stop it”, you mumble into his muscles, self-conscious of his praise. 

“Oh, so it's okay for you to say nice things, but not me?” he teases with that gruff baritone voice. “I see how it's gonna be.”

“You deserve to hear it more than I do.” Your voice is small and humble, averting your eyes from his as you roll your fingertips around his chest hair.

“Bullshit. If that ain’t the biggest lie I ever heard…”, his nose nudging against yours before encompassing your mouth with his own again.

Arthur carefully moves to crawl completely over you. Both of you are shaking slightly, but it's not from the chill night air. His movements are slow at first, terrified of hurting you physically or offending you with his pent up lust. His hands begin to roam more freely over your skin, which is softer than he ever dreamed. 

Now that he finally has you, Arthur is eager to see every bit of you. His lips kiss over the faint lines and stretch marks that occasionally decorate your skin. His fingertips trace them first as he discovers every bit of you. His attention eventually lands on the soft swell of your breasts, which he caresses before clamping his hot mouth over the nipple, his tongue flicking and swirling over the highly-sensitive skin. You softly hum as your hands find their way to come up again to finger through his hair, your nails dragging slightly across his scalp before lightly grabbing onto the thick waves. 

Your image, your shape, gets burned into Arthur’s brain as he continues his line of kisses and fingertrails all over your body:  every curve, every freckle, even the soft roll of your stomach and hips. Everywhere Arthur touches makes you melt, as his hands are hot like the sun from his own want mixed with his nervousness. 

Your heat is so sensitive as his hand carefully drops to caress it, causing you to jump slightly with a whimper. His fingertips linger around your soft mound until they dance along the delicate folds, already slick with want as you buck slightly into his hand, panting hotly into his mouth. His face now hovers so close to yours, close enough for his eyelashes to tickle your skin, as he gently slips a digit into you. Your spine arches back at the sensation of it, a breathless moan escaping your kiss-swollen lips and your toes begin to curl in pleasure. 

Arthur watches your reaction carefully as he pumps his finger into you. Your eyes roll back as your chin lifts, your mouth sharply sucking in air. Your hand desperately reaches out to grasp his bicep with desire. Your eyes open again to meet his gaze, burning into each other with such intensity. His hand moves faster, adding a second digit now, and curls them to rub that certain spot so perfectly. The sensation draws the most beautiful moan from your lips. It is a sound that almost makes Arthur weep.

Suddenly, the realization of what’s about to happen hits him. What if he’s not good enough? What if you reject him after this? What if he hurts you? What if this ruins the one good thing he has in his life? Arthur pauses in his worship of you, retracting from between your legs for a moment. His hand graces over your forehead as his thumb lingers at the corner of your eyebrow. 

“Are you sure this is what you want, (Y/N)?” His eyes crease with concern as he searches yours, not 100% sure if he should continue. “We don’t have to do this right now.” 

But you are getting restless. You’ve been pushed to the limit in body, mind, and soul by this man and it is time to put an end to your longing. You cup Arthur’s face again with a look of seriousness settling across your features as you are afraid that maybe he is having second thoughts after all.

Your (y/e/c) eyes burn into his with such intensity and longing. “I only want you, Arthur. Of that, I am certain.” 

Arthur inhales deeply, weighing the possible consequences. “If this is too much, you need to tell me. Promise?”

You lift up slightly and give him a chaste kiss upon his plump lips. “I promise.”

Giving a faint smile in acceptance, Arthur pulls away from you. He carefully stands up again, stooping slightly in the small shelter, and begins to unbuckle his pants. With no union suit on today, his remaining layers of clothing are quick to come off. His hardened cock springs forth from its confines as he bends to shuck the pants and boots from his legs. 

You watch him intently, taking in the vision of him. Arthur truly is a beautiful specimen of a man. You have patched him up multiple times after jobs and fights, and of course there was that time when you accidentally stumbled upon him bathing in the river, so you have seen him before. But now you are free to observe his body, to truly take in the sight of him and appreciate the man standing before you.

Of course, he is muscular, his arms and thighs thick from years of hard labor. His entire body is littered with hair, but not in an unpleasant way. Now that he is completely naked in front of you, even more scars are made known to you. You notice old knife wounds on his thighs and an old white scar creeping up along his shin. He almost resembles a ragdoll, one that is tattered and has been stitched back together over time. 

Arthur tosses his pants to the side and looks down at you, hesitating when he notices how keenly you gaze at him. Seeing his look of concern, you sit up to run your hands up his thighs and reach over his abdomen, making the mental note of how his bodyhair trials downward towards the V between his legs. When your face tilts upwards towards his, he leans in for another impassioned kiss before gently pushing you back down and settling himself between your legs. 

Arthur shifts between your hips, getting his knees and elbow set. Caging you underneath him, he begins to rock back and forth causing his whole body to rub against yours. The rhythmic motion lulls you into a relaxed state like no other. You can feel his cock beginning to twitch as it pushes against your heat as if begging for attention. You hear him hiss slightly under his breath, fighting to keep his composure before he loses all self control. The sound makes you moan and mewl on your own accord.

Finally, it’s at the point where Arthur just can’t wait any longer, and neither can you by the way you're grasping and whining at him. He reaches down between you to line himself up and pushes himself into you so gently. Your hand immediately shoots out to his shoulder, bracing yourself. He's well-endowed between his legs and he knows it. Your eyes meet his, holding his gaze as he stretches you so wonderfully below, causing you to lightly gasp. He watches your face as you wince slightly, letting out a brief whimper as he pushes. He's trying to be so mindful of your comfort, knowing he's going to fully bury himself into you to the hilt. 

"You alright?" Arthur cautiously asks as he grabs and hooks his arm under your leg, lifting it up and over his hip to open you up more to him. 

"Yes", you pant out, smiling sweetly and lifting your face up to kiss him gently again. He takes a brief moment to get himself adjusted and then begins to move, causing your breathing to be heavy in his ear. He pushes his cock all the way into you, grunting at the heavenly sensation of it, before retracting again. He moves so slowly at first, but then begins to move at a steady pace. The experience is so utterly amazing to you both as you can feel every inch of each other in the most intimate of ways. 

He begins to pump himself in and out as your whole body moves with him. You hook your arm around Arthur’s wide shoulders and neck while the other hand has a tight grasp onto his bicep, fingers digging into the muscles there. After a few moments, he wants to ask again if you're okay, but when your mouth falls open and he hears the words, "damn, Arthur" whispered into his ear, he knows his answer. 

But you can still see the apprehension in Arthur’s face; feel it in his fingers as he touches you. He buries his face into your neck and holds you so tightly as his hips find their place in a steady rhythm between yours. Yet Arthur is still so hesitant, still holding back from you as if nervous.

"Arthur…I need you," your whisper to him barely audible. 

“You're sure about this?” he asks again, lifting his face from your neck to look into yours. “I mean, I really don’t want to hurt you, (Y/N), after everything and all.” Arthur sweetly searches for any misgivings, for any sign that you are not ready for this next step.

“I want all of you, Arthur," your voice yearning with desire as you cup his face again. You are so touched that this sometimes-brutal man can be so careful with you, especially in this situation. "It’s okay. I’m tougher than you think." You give him a little nod as his favorite little smile graces your lips once more.

And just like that, that confirmation is all that Arthur needs as he suddenly crashes into your lips, hot and all consuming this time. His thrusts instantly become deep and steady as his hips begin to snap sharply into yours with the ferocity of a caged beast that has been released back into the wild. And you gasp in the most satisfied way as you give in to him. 

“That’s it,” you pant, praising him as you wrap your one leg around his waist to pull him deeper into you, while using the other to stabilize yourself against his force and push yourself up to receive him. 

It doesn’t take long for Arthur to give in to his long-denied desires and lose himself completely, drowning in his senses. He didn’t realize just how empty his soul was until you were there to fill it again. And you are more than happy to be the one to provide that comfort to him. It’s the simplest, yet most selfless thing that you could offer him with your humble existence. 

Arthur used to think that he just wanted to disappear sometimes, to get lost from everyone and everything in the world. But what he realizes is that all he’s ever wanted was to be truly found. And clinging to him, you are just as desperate as Arthur is. Loneliness isn’t something just for an outlaw. You wrap yourself up into him, into his arms, against his barrel chest which is heaving and trying to catch the air for the lungs within as he moves faster and faster on top of you.

“Don’t let me go." Your plea wafts into his ear as tears form in the corners of your eyes as the weight of everything that you've been through and everything you've been waiting for, finally comes to a culmination. 

”Never” is all he manages to murmur in response, not even sure if you hear him. 

The feeling of Arthur on top of you, of him inside of you, is so wonderfully overwhelming and electric. The fullness of him inside you, his rough hands on your skin, his soft lips nipping at your jawline, and his hot breath on your neck, it’s all as if lightning has hit you and is traveling throughout your entire body. Your skin is buzzing with the exquisite sensation, acutely aware of even his chest hair as it drags and rubs against your sensitive breasts as he moves. 

Arthur grabs onto your hip again, digging his fingertips into the soft flesh there. There will be slight bruising there for sure later, but neither of you are in any frame of mind to acknowledge or care right now. His cock continues to ram into you, hitting the back of your walls as his girth stretches you so wonderfully. His thrusts are sharp and hard, more desperate than harsh, chasing you, as if you’ll vanish from him in moments like the sun burning the morning fog away.

It is a good thing that your first time together is out and away from anyone else in camp. It gives you both the opportunity to explore and appreciate each other properly. But it also allows you to be free and unrestricted, as the sounds of your lovemaking burst forth in waves of moaning, squeals, and grunting, only getting louder and louder with each cascading wave of building ecstasy. 

Looking down at you, Arthur never thought he’d see you like this:  flushed and pupils blown, your mouth fallen open and making the most incredible noises in his ear. In all the time he's watched you from afar and sketched your image to keep privately for himself, Arthur never dreamed it could be like this. He looks down at himself pounding into you, watching how your body shudders with each stroke. Like a musician playing a fiddle, you move and moan with his fingers. Your chest heaves while your back arches at an almost inhuman angle, desperate to receive more of him. It makes him want you even more. It's crazy how your body responds in perfect union to his. Every time you moan his name in broken syllables and wanton whispers, Arthur shudders and groans even more as it is a confirmation that you are really here for him and only him. And like a selfish child, he wants you all to himself.

The two of you form a beautifully ungraceful knot of limbs and noises, hard to tell where one of you begins and the other ends. Arthur rocks into your hips like a wave on the ocean, repeatedly surging and retreating. Your hands wrap under his arms to grip the planes of his back as your fingers dig into the hard muscle there, clawing for a handhold. You draw your knee up, causing your hips to open wider and granting Arthur more access to your core before your heels dig into the backs of his thighs. And in reaction to your movements, he swallows each of your gasps with his mouth, hungry for you. He winds his hand up into your hair again, pulling slightly to tip your chin back to expose the delicate area of your throat and allowing him to claim what is his with a twinkle of pure delight in his eyes. Your mouth opens up into a soundless scream, an airless breath that fights to escape your chest. And all the while, you are completely absent of coherent thought. Your mind is taken over by the feel of Arthur completely encompassing you. 

This goes on for what seems like hours, as time seems to stand still. For the first time in forever, this feels different for both of you. You cling to Arthur as if your life depends on it because maybe it does. Arthur is the very air you breathe. But that is okay, because he clings to you just the same. The two of you lie there, skin against skin, yet you still try to pull each other even closer. It's a wonder that either of you can move at all for how tightly you hold each other. But it's because you move in perfect unison together that you are able to make it work so heavenly.  

In this beautiful moment, nestled in the thick of the forest and caressed by the darkness of the night, yet kissed by the glow of a fire, you and Arthur give in to each other so completely and so deeply, each finding that missing piece in each other to make you both whole once more. He is the strength that you so desperately need, and you are the hope and humanity that he lost so long ago.

Lightning begins to build in your abdomen as your climax is soon to come. You can’t even form words to tell him, but Arthur can tell by how much faster you're panting and squirming beneath him. Your hot breath dances across Arthur’s neck as your bottom teeth drag along his earlobe, causing an almost animalistic grunt to erupt from him. 

Now it’s your turn to dig your fingers with bruising pressure as your fingernails begin to cut into the flesh of his strong back, holding onto him desperately while the crescendo builds between your legs. You throw your head back with a loud and overwhelmed moan the moment it hits, stars clouding your vision as your climax comes hard with full force like a tidal wave. Arthur stares at you, mesmerized, as his hand comes up to cradle your face as if he’s trying to actually catch the feeling of it into his palm. He is utterly amazed by you. He can’t remember when, or even if, he’s seen a woman react to his touch like this. 

And with this sight, Arthur is soon to follow you. Moaning loudly, his eyes shoot wide before screwing tightly shut again to brace himself for the impending sensation about to rock his entire body. And the intensity of his orgasm hits him like a ton of bricks. Arthur quickly reaches up to fist your hair again as he pulls himself out of you just in time to release between your thighs. The muscles of his entire body tense up and restrict, clamping down tightly onto your body underneath him. His breathing becomes staggered and jagged as he sputters to catch his breath.  

Arthur has a split second of panic as he pulls out of you, not sure if he has timed himself properly. He almost doesn’t make it because he can barely pry himself from your reflexive grasp to move. Aside from the obvious precautions against pregnancy, Arthur doesn't want to offend you by assuming he could release inside of you. 

Arthur remains motionless for a few moments, still trying to catch his breath from his own orgasm, before his bear-like frame collapses onto you. You notice how sweetly his legs and arms tremble as he tries not to crush you beneath him. His face returns to the crook of your neck, panting hot breath onto your sweat-glistening skin. The cool night air is a blessing as a slight breeze chases away the excessive heat that radiates off of your naked bodies. You slowly drag your fingers up the valley of his spine, dancing along the back of his neck and into his hair as the feather-light touch of your fingers causes him to shudder again. You let out a satisfied moan as you flex your fingers into his sweat-damp hair. 

Arthur eventually pulls himself up onto his elbows to look you in the face again and is relieved to be greeted by the softest of smiles. You place your hand along his cheek again, just as you did before, and lift up to pepper his face with sweet kisses along his jaw and his cheek and over his eyelids and nose. 

Carefully, Arthur rolls off of you and onto his left side, but keeps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him as he moves. He reaches over you to grab his neckerchief that was discarded earlier and uses it to gently clean your legs and then himself before tossing it aside once more. 

Laying there wrapped up into each other’s arms, you forget that the rest of the world exists. You stare into each other's eyes, soaking up the reality of what has just happened between you, as your hand floats up to nestle your fingertips in between the pectoral muscles of his chest. There is a new sense of depth to Arthur’s ocean-blue eyes, a calmness that you haven’t seen before. Arthur studies your face, taking in the way the firelight catches in your irises and mapping the curvature of your lips that he has to fight the urge to kiss again and again. 

“So now what?” Arthur asks, finally breaking the blissful silence.

You release a hum of contented exhaustion as you smile at him. "This doesn’t have to be anything that you don’t want it to be, Arthur. Although I’m really hoping it goes past this moment." 

“I gotta be honest, (Y/N), I haven’t done this in a long time. I...I don’t know if I can.” He draws his lips inward, biting down slightly as he’s embarrassed to tell you this, worried you’ll reject him here and now. 

“But what you don’t realize, Arthur, is that’s where you have me at a disadvantage,” you tell him with a voice so soft and gentle. “At least you’ve had love before. I’ve never been fortunate enough to have what you had, even if it was only for a brief window of time.” You lovingly reach over and run the pads of your fingers over his lips and chin. A lop-sided grin dusts your face as you study him for a moment. “You are capable of so much more than you know, Arthur. I can’t wait for the day that you realize that.” 

Arthur hums in contemplation, averting his eyes for a moment as the corners of his mouth lift a bit. His fingertips roll over the delicate skin of your back as your words embed themselves into his mind.

“I don’t want anything from you, Arthur. I just simply want you.” Your breathy voice carries your warm proclamation, assured with the glinting look that you give him. 

“This could go so wrong, you know,” he warns, his eyebrows knit with concern as his gaze meets yours once again.

“True. But, it could go so right, too,” you counter with a smirk. “This could be the best thing to happen to either of us, Arthur." You reach over again and gracefully run your fingers through his hair before cupping his cheek again as your thumb gently swipes over his bottom lip. "And I think you’re worth the risk.” 

Arthur runs his hand along your back and over your hips, taking in all of your beautiful words. He thinks he is just so ordinary. Or maybe not even that. But to you, he is extraordinary, vast and breathtaking like the bluest sky over the valley. And he can see it in your eyes when you look at him and it makes it hard for him to breathe.  

“Do you have any idea what you do to a man?”, he finally smirks, his eyebrows arching questioningly at you. 

A coy smile dances upon the petals of your lips in return. “Don’t care about other men. Just you.” 

That affirmation causes Arthur’s heart to soar higher than the stars sparkling in the sky above you, and he surges forward and into your lips again. He doesn’t want this moment to end, but only to fold the two of you up into it forever. You smile and hum into Arthur's mouth as his tongue pushes over yours again and again as you can feel his confidence building with each caress of his strong hands across your body. 

When you feel him harden against your legs again, you take advantage of the opportunity and gently push the man over to climb on top of him. Your hair falls to create an intimate curtain, housing your two faces so sweetly as you catch Arthur’s lips with your own. You pull away from his mouth and begin to place kisses along his neck and over his shoulder. The thin blanket that Arthur had wrapped around the two of you slowly falls away to expose your naked body to the cool night air once more, causing goosebumps to prickle your skin. 

Using one hand to steady yourself, you use the other to explore Arthur’s muscled chest, rolling over the chest hair that decorates his weathered skin. Playing on both angles, you draw your leg up along Arthur’s body, running your knee and leg along his side, while simultaneously moving your hand and lips down his thick torso. The full body caress makes Arthur’s whole body come to life. His body is used to hardship and blows; to be abused and pushed to the limits of its capabilities. Certainly not this type of coveted affection and touching that you are providing him now.

Arthur’s head rolls back with a moan as he is now the one being taken care of. His head thumps back against your make-shift pillow with a soft ‘thud’ sound as his hands land on your shoulders, massaging the muscle there between his strong fingers as you travel downward along his body. Your trail of kisses leads you down to his hips as your hair feathers out over his abdomen. 

His breath suddenly hitches as he quickly looks down as you hover over his cock. You look up at him and meet his gaze, before you duck back down, gently taking his large cock into your hand. Arthur’s eyes go wide then immediately heavy-lidded as the heat from your mouth envelops his tip before slowing working down the thickness of his shaft. 

You have only done this a few times before now, and Arthur is much larger than you're used to. But desire is a wonderful motivator. Your head starts to bob slowly at first before picking up a faster pace. Using your hand, you're able to take him entirely into your mouth without gagging. Your tongue wraps around the shaft before teasingly flicking at the tip. The muscles of your mouth firmly encompass his cock, creating the most blissful sensation of pressure and suction as you pull up and down. You can hear the hissing and moaning sounds the man is making and it only increases your confidence in your performance, and you change your technique to elicit the specific sound you desire from his trembling lips. 

Right now, you only want to take care of Arthur; to make him feel good and show him the attention that he so rightfully deserves. And yet, the idea that you could hold this strong and fearsome outlaw hostage in the palm of your hand is incredible. This position also gives you the opportunity to take note of just how large Arthur is. It’s little wonder how he was able to pull such an intense orgasm from the depth of your body just moments ago. The very memory of it causes your own desires to ramp up, as your heat begins to tingle and get wet between your legs again. 

Once Arthur is at the point that he is rock-hard again, you slowly remove his cock from your mouth with a soft “pop” and gently rise-up to place yourself on top of him. Arthur watches you, captivated, as you crawl over him like an animal stalking its prey, and slowly rock back and forth, rubbing yourself against him. He’s tempted to take himself in hand, line himself up with your heat and push up into you again. But he’s too transfixed by your dominance at the moment to do anything but watch you move atop of him. 

As if reading his mind, you smirk and you lift up a bit more, wrapping your hand around his rigid cock to guide yourself as you lower onto him, moaning softly and biting down on your lip as his size fills you up yet again. Your head drops back, hair cascading down your back, as you start to slow-grind on him in a hypnotic rhythm. 

Finally able to pull his mind out of its lust-drunk fog, Arthur runs his hands up the front of your thighs, his thumbs rubbing small circles into the plush skin there. He snakes one hand along your stomach and up into the valley between your breasts as the other hand lands on your hip, his fingers digging slightly to help hold the pace you are setting. Letting you take the lead this time allows Arthur to take in the sight of you as you straddle his hips with your own. 

You're not perfect. But it’s your imperfections that make you perfect to Arthur. It really is as if you are made for each other. You have curves, for sure. You're not as small as some of the other girls in camp, but you fit into Arthur’s large hands perfectly. He doesn’t feel like he’s going to break you as if you are a porcelain doll. Your individual features are pleasant for sure, but taken in as a whole, you are striking. At least to Arthur you are. 

He savors the touch of your soft skin against his which is rough and weathered; how the large orbs of your adoring eyes are looking down at him right now, and how you so generously take him into yourself. You are beautiful, you are kind…and you are his. And the two of you can’t get enough of each other. 

For you, you had been so worried that what happened in Rosewood would have ruined you. And it almost did. But you didn’t want that act of depravity to define you. And you pulled from the common adversity of your new family to help rebuild your spirit like a phoenix rising from the ashes. And if that hadn’t happened, you wouldn’t be here now, like this. With Arthur. 

If it were anyone else touching you like this, you’d probably curl up into a ball, retracting into yourself in fear or self-loathing. But with Arthur, you feel safe and shielded as if no one else in the world would, or could, touch you. 

Arthur is different and you’ve always known it by the way he makes you feel, even when he simply speaks to you. He is warm and instantly feels familiar to you, like he has always been the other half of yourself. He feels solid and secure to your touch and almost makes you feel drunk with emotions that can’t even be named. The best feeling in the whole world is to be with someone who wants you just as much as you want them.

It's amazing how life works sometimes. Some people always have the sunshine in life while others always seem to get the rain. But sometimes, you really do need to suffer through the storm to see the magic of the rainbow at the end of it. 

As you continue to ride him, Arthur can see and feel both of you rapidly approaching your conjoined climax again as he can feel the velvet walls of your heat clenching around his twitching cock inside of you. As you begin to move even faster, you take your hands off of where you've been holding on to Arthur’s forearms and lean over him to plant them on his shoulders. This angle gives you more leverage to grind Arthur even deeper into yourself, if that’s even possible. Harder, faster. Deeper than you thought possible, until you feel as if he’s up into your ribcage. Arthur reciprocates by bucking his hips up into yours with each stroke, causing you to gasp as the breath is taken right out of your lungs with the feel of it. And it’s shortly thereafter that you both start to grasp at each other again, bracing for the overstimulation about to hit. 

Your climax is intense and hits first again. A sharp moan erupts from your lips as your head instantly snaps backwards. And as your muscles begin to go limp as you come down, Arthur grabs you and takes control, sitting up slightly to wrap his strong arms around you, and rides you through the surge of it. 

Watching your eyes roll back into your head with a strained cry, he is quick to hit his own climax and swiftly lifts you up to pull himself out of you again. He pitches you forward, causing your trembling arms to brace yourself against him as he spills his seed along your conjoined thighs once more. It’s a good thing Arthur has a hold of you, too, as you are completely undone at this point, your whole body seemingly boneless. You roll your head to the side and close your eyes before leaning forward to collapse against his chest. 

You both lay there for some time, motionless except for your heaving chests. Arthur’s massive arms encircle you to hold you tight to him as you curl up onto the plane of his chest, your fingers clutching at him. Eventually, you shift to lower yourself to lay along Arthur’s side. You turn into him and snuggle your face into his chest as your hand rests across his heart which you can feel beating like crazy beneath your palm. You absentmindedly rake your fingers through his chest-hair and lift your leg up and over to entwine with his, still trying to keep as close to him as possible. 

Smiling slightly at the feeling of your warm body against his, Arthur pulls the blanket around you again to cover your naked body as it drapes over his own. He lays his hand atop of yours that rests on his chest and wraps his other arm around you to cradle you back into him, his hand tangling in your hair as he holds your head. 

And here in this perfect little moment of satiated bliss, Arthur is happy.

“We could have done this a long time ago, you know,” you snicker as you roll your eyes up to look at him. 

“Hmmm, don’t I know it. Remind me next time to listen to you, would ya?” He pulls his rough fingers along your spine and up over your bare shoulders, still fascinated by how soft your skin is. 

“It’s like I told you before, Arthur:  you look out for me, I’ll look out for you,” you say drowsily, as sleep is about to take over your worn-out senses. And within moments, you are asleep. 

When you go silent and the only sound he hears is the crickets in the night, Arthur looks down at your form, curled up into him like a kitten and almost as fragile looking as one, too. He runs his fingertip along your shoulder again, admiring how the appendage curves. And as he watches you in your euphoric slumber, his mind starts to wander now that it’s quiet and his wits are about him once more. 

It is amazing how this person who was once a total stranger to him can suddenly, and without warning, mean the world to him. You are everything Arthur has ever dared to hope for. And somehow, by some miracle, you have graced him with your affection. And Arthur knows it now: time, distance, background - nothing could separate you two. This is real and this is right. Arthur understands now that you are the person that he was always meant to find, and he is unimaginably captivated by you. 

In the quiet night air, now that the symphony of moans and panting are done, the only sound carrying through the still night air is the popping of the fire as it dies down. The faint noise of a hooting owl in the trees can be heard off in the distance. Left to his own thoughts, Arthur’s reason and self-doubt begin to creep up again, but it’s only for a moment. Spreading like black ink, Micah’s words ring through his mind : if Arthur really cared for you, he’d save you the heartache and keep you safe from him and the trouble that someone like him brings. 

But now, Arthur doesn’t think he could ever do that even if he tried. Selfishly, now that he has you, he doesn’t want to let you go. It would be like taking the air from his lungs or the blood from his heart. Arthur is all-consumed by you now. He could die tomorrow and he'll be a happy man. 

What if he doesn’t run this time, but stays and lets your affection for him, possibly even love, overtake him? Arthur never fathomed that even something as simple as the sound of your voice could ever calm his soul like you have. 

So instead of the foolish notion to leave you in order to protect you, Arthur determines he’s going to do everything in his power to keep you safe and protected in his care. He is your guardian, and you are his angel. 

As he comes to this conclusion, Arthur’s powerful arms involuntarily tighten around you as if someone was going to come and take you away from him. He leans down and places an ever-so soft kiss on the top of your head, causing you to shift even closer into him in your sleep. 

“I got you, baby-girl. I got you”, he whispers. 

-----------------------------------------

Several hours go by and you slowly wake from your blissful slumber to the sound of chirping birds in the air. The lightening sky of soft lavender and subdued pinks washes over the landscape and creeps its way into the hunting shelter, intruding upon the blissful solitude where you and Arthur are still tucked away. 

The last few plumes of smoke from the dying fire slowly waft through the air. Both of you must have been worn out from your passionate love-making as you are both in the same position as when you fell asleep in each other's arms. The slightly damp, cool breeze of the morning blows across your exposed shoulder, causing you to stir. You slowly stretch and curl into a tighter ball around the bulk of the man beneath you. You inhale deeply as your muscles flex and you instantly catch his scent. The smell of leather and cigarettes, mixed with a bit of clove from his soap, fills your nose. It instantly makes you smile in your hazy sleep, remembering where you are and that this is indeed not a dream. 

Arthur refused to sleep much overnight, keeping a watchful eye on you as you slept, but he did end up dozing lightly here and there. When he feels you move against his bare skin, warm and soothing, he peels open his blue-green eyes with a sleepy grunt and peers down at you. 

“Hey you,” he murmurs softly as he runs his thumb across your temple. You smile, inhaling deeply again, taking a moment to appreciate where you are before you reply with your own sleep-hushed “Hey you”. 

“We’re gonna have to get goin’ here soon, little miss. Dutch ain’t gonna be too happy if we’re out much longer.” Arthur’s voice is thick with sleep and, of course, carrying with it the reluctant tone to enforce what he's saying.

You groan in disappointment, burying your face back into him as you shuffle a bit as your limbs slowly awaken once more. “You sure that’s the way you want to go?” you ask coyly, as you start to leave kisses on Arthur’s chest while seductively drawing circles on his skin with your fingertip. 

“Aw c’mon, you’re killin’ me,” he whines, causing you to giggle mischievously. Arthur wraps you up into his arms and squeezes tightly before relaxing again. When you’re able to lift your head, you reach up to pull his face to yours and plant a soft, yet very intimate kiss on his lip. Your eyes create that dreamy, longing stare again as you look up into his face and run your knuckles along his cheek. 

“You’re gonna get me in so much trouble, you know that?” Arthur raises an eyebrow at you.

“Oh, I know.” With a quick kiss to his nose, you slowly sit up and stretch, looking around for your clothes with a sigh of disappointment. “But I suppose you’re right. We should get going.” 

Arthur reluctantly sits up as well, leaning over to kiss your naked shoulder as he runs his hand slowly down your back, his touch tickling your skin. Your eyes slowly float closed as you turn your head into his, trying to savor every last bit of time you have alone together.

“Trust me, Darlin’, I’d stay out here with you forever if I could,” he mumbles into your skin as his nose and lips smoosh into your shoulder as if trying to melt the two of you together.

“Yeah, yeah, promises, promises,” you joke as you roll over to grab your blouse and skirt. Arthur sees the perfect opportunity and playfully smacks your exposed butt, pulling a slight squeak from your lips.

But soon enough, the two of you get yourselves together. You reluctantly pull apart from one another long enough to pack up the few things you had brought with you in your hasty departure yesterday and prepare to leave the little hunting lean-to and head back to camp. The sun has awakened as well at this point and begins to shine down, its beams freckling through the tree branches. It is a gloriously beautiful morning and you look upon it with a whole new sense of wonder and happiness in your heart. 

As you shake out the blanket and roll it up in your hands, Arthur stands hesitantly behind you, watching you gracefully move as you tuck the last bit of things onto Buck’s saddle. Noticing him out of the corner of your eye, you turn and give him a curious look. “Everything alright?” 

“I’m fine. Just rolling the last 12 hours around in my head," he mumbles, swirling his hand in the air by his temple. "It’s hard to believe what just happened.” Arthur smiles sheepishly, rubbing his hand along his chin as he thinks about his current situation. 

So much has changed in the last few days, let alone hours. From the fighting between you, to his ride to Rosewood; from the confessions to the embrace. And of course, the beautiful night you’ve just spent together. The river of emotions have weighed heavily on Arthur, leaving him delightfully overwhelmed and uncharacteristically content. 

You beam with sparkling eyes as you take a few steps over to him. “Well, now you can touch whenever you want to. That should be fun, yeah?” You reach your arms around his barrel-chest, squeezing him to you, and lift your face upwards to start placing sweet kisses along his face and neck. 

"Whatcha doin?” Arthur asks cautiously, a suspicious eyebrow raised, but one that belies the grin creeping across his bearded face. 

“Just lovin' up on you again,” you giggle into his neck. "Something tells me you're past due and I got a lot of time to make up for." 

A low hum rumbles from deep in his chest as Arthur folds you up against him, squeezing you into a strong embrace in return. He collects your beautiful face into his giant hands and leans down to kiss you deeply. Your breath rolls over each other’s as you indulge your senses yet again. Once more, the rest of the world falls away the moment your lips touch. The feeling leaves your knees weak and you have to fight the urge to push it farther as your arms tighten around his torso and begin to creep up his back. 

When he pulls back again, Arthur looms over you, looking down into your face and admiring the precious gift he’s holding in his hands. He gives a slight shake to his head, absolutely blown away by his dumb-luck and how he’s managed to fall ass-backwards into your life. Arthur stares at you for a moment, those vivid blue eyes of his bright with a whole new purpose behind them as you reflect back to him the most resplendent smile he has ever seen.

“Mine,” he whispers.

“Yours,” you respond breathlessly. 

----------------------------------------

It is mid-morning by the time you and Arthur make your way back to camp. You’re not too sure of what you’ll come back to, but prepare yourselves for the teasing and cat-calls you’re sure are coming. Thankfully, though, it’s mostly knowingly smirks and waves that greet you. A slight wave of relief settles over you at that, as you are not sure how Arthur would react to such personal teasing. Despite the connection that the two of you have, he is still very much a private person. 

You both get Arthur’s horse taken care of, offer your apologies to a very agitated Blue for being left behind, and then head over to Pearson’s wagon to get some much-needed coffee. The camp is relatively quiet this morning, with a few members milling about with their own agendas. The slight breeze waffs the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee in your direction and pulls you like a tether. You inhale deeply, your eyes briefly rolling shut, and smile with the feeling of “being home”. This little moment is so perfect:  a beautiful morning, surrounded by friends, hot coffee on the fire, and your man at your side. 

“There’s the love-birds,” Pearson chimes loudly with a wink when he notices you and Arthur. The cook stirs the last remnants of breakfast in his pot, clanging the utensil loudly on the side to shake off whatever coats the spoon. The portly man quickly puts down the ladle and grabs the coffee pot and a few cups for you. 

“Yeah, yeah,” says Arthur, waving him off as his face turns a slight shade of pink. You simply smile and gratefully take the cup from Pearson’s hand. A quick, eager sip of the hot, bitter liquid cascades down your throat, warming you from the inside out and a soft “Ahhhh” escapes your lips. And before the two of you can do anything else, you are greeted by the sound of Dutch’s voice carrying through the air. 

“Well, well, nice of you two to join us again!” 

You and Arthur both turn to see Dutch and Hosea approach and notice Hosea holding a few rolls of paper in his hands. 

“Are you two done foolin’ around so we can get some work done around here?” asks Dutch, raising his eyebrows at you both in impatience with a slight wave of his arm. 

“For now,” you quip back. “But I was hoping to fool around a bit again before dinner”. You give Dutch a cocky smirk and a wink. 

Hosea's face wrinkles delightfully as he tries to stifle a laugh while Arthur lowers his head to hide a huge smile under the brim of his hat at your insinuation. But the look on Dutch’s face is anything but amused by your comment right now. 

“Not in the mood. Right,” you say awkwardly under Dutch’s impatient glare, clearing your throat and quickly minding your place. “I’ll just...go somewhere over there.” You wave your hand dismissively towards the center of the camp before turning to Arthur. “I’ll see you later, Arthur,” you giggle. 

Placing your hand on his arm, you give it a slight squeeze along with a big smile. He gives you a quick nod before you quickly scurry away from the men. Arthur’s eyes continue to follow after you, landing on the curve of your rear as you walk away, instantly missing your presence. He reluctantly turns back to Dutch only to be met with the older man’s stink-eye look. 

“What?” asks Arthur innocently, chuckling a little. 

Dutch plants his ringed hands onto his hips in annoyance, tilting his head to the side just a bit as he looks at Arthur. “This is going to get really old, really fast, isn’t it?” asks Dutch with an exasperated sigh.

“Oh, leave him alone, Dutch. He’s finally got a good thing goin’ there for himself,” interrupts Hosea approvingly with a knowing grin on his face. “Now, come on you two. We need to go over these carrier routes.” Hosea waves the papers he’s been holding in front of them and motions to the nearest table with his head. 

Leaving the three of them to their business, you take your cup of coffee and saunter over to the fire to take advantage of a rare quiet morning to relax. Noticing that you are back in camp, Abigail is quick to run up to you with a huge cheshire-cat-like smile sparkling on her face.

“Well, good morning, Miss (Y/L/N),” Abigail sings as she hustles over, shimmying up to you and elbowing your arm. “Soooo?” she questions you with a smirk.

But you playfully roll your eyes at her and shake your head as you take a seat next to the other girls who are already gathered around the fire and trying to wake up for the day. “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell," you tease Abigail with a grin, demurely pulling your shoulder to your chin. 

“Well, we know there was more than kissin’ going on last night, so why don’t you tell us about that then?” jokes Abigail, swatting your arm.

"So tell us, (Y/N)! How was it?" Karen blurts out eagerly. Her sleepy face instantly perks up the moment you sit down.

"Karen!" scolds Mary-Beth in a hushed tone. Judging by their snickering, you can only imagine that your departure last night has been the talk of the camp.

"What?” Karen protests innocently to Mary-Beth. “I'm genuinely curious.” She waves her hand nonchalantly towards you. “I wanna know if it was worth all the trouble and the wait.” When Mary-Beth gives nothing but a disapproving stare, Karen leans in to her and swats her friend’s leg. “Oh c'mon, like you ain't dyin' to know yourself," she hisses. 

"Actually, I'm kind of curious about it myself," interjects Abigail, looking back to you with that same cat-like grin.

“Yeah, (Y/N), how’d it go?” asks Tilly, leaning forward in her chair and planting her elbows on her knees in keen interest.

It is so sweet to you how your friends want to share in your excitement. You’ve never had siblings, and even your friendships as a young girl were never as open and close as the relationships that you have quickly cultivated with these women. Your face begins to bashfully dust pink at their attention, yet you can’t help yourself as your smile gets even wider by the minute. 

“Some of the best moments in life are the things that you can’t tell other people about,” you gush, yet still trying to be elusive.

“Oh, come on! That ain’t fair! You gotta give us somethin’!” begs Karen, smacking her hands on her thighs and leaning in towards you.  

You simply reply with a long, mockingly-impatient sigh before your face turns a deeper shade of scarlet. You cover your face with your hands for a few moments before pulling them down to peek over your fingertips at your friends, blushing and giggling like a school-girl. 

"It was...perfect," you say with a dreamy, love-drunk grin on your face. 

“Ooooo” They all let out a collective excited giggle, elbowing each other and so happy for both you and for Arthur. 

—------------------------------

Fortunately, it is a bit of a slow day today and Ms Grimshaw is not chasing after everyone to get back to work for once. So you are able to just sit and socialize with the girls. You pass the time sipping coffee and gossiping, discussing what the plans are for the day and watching Jack play “swords” with a stick with Uncle. It is a perfectly content afternoon for once.

Somewhere off to the side you hear the sound of someone clearing their throat before they approach your little group. You turn your head when movement out of the corner of your eye catches your attention and instantly grin ear to ear when you see that it is Arthur. The way your whole body lights up the moment that you see him makes Arthur instantly wish you were back at the hunting shelter. You’ve only been apart for a little over an hour and yet it already feels like days. 

"Ladies", he addressed the group of you with a nod and polite touch to the brim of his hat.

"Hey, Arthur" they all giggle and smirk at the outlaw at their inside joke. You are quick to swat at them, trying to get them to hush.

"Uh...right.” His hand comes up behind his neck as he stands there awkwardly, suddenly a little uncomfortable with their smirking faces all turned to him. “(Y/N), can I talk to you for a minute?" He waves his hand to usher you away from the small group to speak in private. 

“Sure.” You bounce up from your seat to follow him, turning back over your shoulder with a quick glare at your friends in warning to knock it off with the teasing cackles. 

You and Arthur walk a few feet away from the girls before you stop and turn to face each other. "Don't mind them,” you say quickly to Arthur, waving at the girls.  “They're just..." and you roll your eyes and shake your head, totally at a loss for words.

“Hmmm…yeah I know how they can get,” Arthur acknowledges with a chuckle. He pauses for a moment, looking down at you with a bit of a dopey grin. This is the first time you’ve had a moment alone together again since you’ve gotten back and he’s missed you already. 

“Listen, I gotta leave for a bit. Hosea’s got a lead on some work, need to check it out. But I’ll be back as soon as I can.” His eyebrows raise a bit, waiting to see how you will react to this information.

“Okay”. You nod in understanding, giving him a simple smile. Your response is so easy and accepting. Arthur was expecting a protest or for you to be upset, but he’s pleasantly surprised when you are not. 

“Well, after last night, I wasn’t sure if it was proper to leave.” He gives you a sheepish, guilty look as his thumbs tuck into his gunbelt in his usual, comfortable stance.

You place your hands over his arms as you lean in closer. “It’s alright. Go do what you gotta do. I’ll be here.” 

Arthur hesitates for a moment as something else is clearly on his mind, and he shifts his weight from one hip to the other before he speaks again. “One more thing. Would you do something for me?” His eyes squint just a bit as he thinks on how to pose his next question.

“Anything.” You smile at him, moving your hands onto his chest now, and your fingers begin to fiddle with the knot of his neckerchief. Arthur hums a little, his eyes following your fingers and trying not to get distracted from his task at hand. 

“Stay here in camp ‘til I get back, would ya? Don't be goin' out with the girls or nothin'. I’d feel better knowing you were safe here 'til I got back.” Arthur’s face becomes more serious now. You instantly realize what he’s asking of you and why, and his protectiveness is quite touching. You are relieved to see that Arthur has already taken to the idea of the two of you being “together” and it warms your heart. 

“Sure, I can do that,” you agree and your smile grows even bigger like a plant that has been watered and set in the sun. You take Arthur’s chin in your fingers and pull him down as you raise up on your toes to kiss him sweetly. He blushes a bit at the public display of affection that he's not used to. But he loves it just the same.

"Be careful, please." You playfully scold him, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Always am," Arthur smirks. 

From somewhere behind him, you can hear Bill yelling for him. “Come on Morgan, let’s go!” Arthur lets out an exasperated sigh as he looks at you, rolling his eyes before he turns to leave and making you giggle. 

“Play nice!”, you call after him as Arthur begrudgingly walks away.

"Never do!" he calls back with another smirk and a wink at you over his shoulder. 

Your eyes follow Arthur with a contented sigh escaping your lips as he walks towards the awaiting group that is about to head out. His broad shoulders rock slightly with his slow, swaggering walk; his burly arms sway at his sides, hovering above the guns that hang so naturally on his hips.

Yep. No doubt about it. You are just stupid for, and hopelessly in love with, this man. 

You shake your head at the wonder of it all and turn to head back to the girls.

Arthur makes his way over to the hitching posts to join the others in getting ready to head out on the scout job. He lifts his chin in acknowledgement to John who is already sitting atop Old Boy, waiting for Arthur to join the group. Then suddenly Arthur is brought out of his reverie by an unwelcome sound. 

“So you and (Y/N) have finally done the deed, eh, Morgan?” The sound of Micah’s voice grates on Arthur’s nerves like a knife scraping across metal as the man saunters over to follow Arthur to the horses. (Ugh, of course Dutch wants him for this job, as well.) 

“Well, how was she?” the bastard grunts.  “I bet she’s real frisky. Like a cat.” Micah shakes his eyebrows suggestively at Arthur, knowing full-well that he’s pressing his luck.

A lightning bolt of anger shoots through Arthur’s very being at the very mention of your name from Micah’s despicable lips. His jaw flexes tightly as he grits his teeth together. He reaches out and shoves his massive hand onto Micah’s chest, stopping him dead in his tracks. Arthur pulls a deep inhale through his nose in order to collect himself before he speaks. His eyes turn to that hard, icy-blue color as they pierce menacingly into Micah.

“Let’s get something straight right now.” Arthur points his finger at Micah’s chest. “You don’t talk about her. You don’t look at her. In fact, do yourself a favor and don’t even think about her. Or you and I are goin' to go rounds. Do I make myself perfectly clear?” Arthur’s voice is low and unyielding. That hardness that the outlaw is known for rears its dangerous head in Micah’s direction and the weasel freezes, instantly knowing where that line in the sand has been drawn.

“Say it,” Arthur slowly grits out between clenched teeth as he menacingly towers over Micah. “Say you understand me, asshole.” 

Micah narrows his eyes at Arthur, the argument right there on the tip of his foul tongue, trying to decide just how far he wants to push this right now. But ultimately, he slowly swallows and concedes to back off. For now.

“Sure, cowpoke,” utters Micah, holding his hands up in surrender. “Anything you say.” His scummy, snakelike grin leaves Arthur with an unsettling feeling. If he didn’t like you being around Micah before, Arthur sure as hell doesn't like it now.

—------------------------------

It’s well into the evening when Arthur and the others come back to camp. It’s been a long, yet productive day and Arthur just wants to sit still for one damn moment and relax. Everyone who was left at home is sitting around the fire sharing stories and passing a bottle or two. Your head perks up when you hear the sound of hoofbeats in the distance and you watch Arthur ride in. You notice how he slowly climbs down from Buck’s saddle, almost bone by bone, with exhaustion. As he turns to head into the camp, the outlaw’s tired eyes immediately seek you out amongst the group. And once your eyes meet, your smile draws him in like a moth to a flame. 

Arthur stops to grab a bottle of his own out of one of the crates before ambling over to the fire to take a seat next to you on the ground where you are curled up on a blanket. You nudge your shoulder into his side as he gets settled, placing your hand on his knee and giving it a gentle squeeze. The corners of Arthur’s mouth turn up as his eyes slowly blink at you with fatigue. The feeling of your warm body curled up against him instantly calms and centers him. He didn’t realize until now just how nice it is to have someone waiting for him when he comes home.

“Before you two get too cozy over there, you’re on guard duty tonight, Arthur,” announces Javier over the fire pit, interrupting your little private reunion. 

Arthur quickly throws an annoyed look in Javier's direction. “What? You gotta be kiddin’ me.”  

“I covered for you last night, amigo” Javier tips his beer bottle towards Arthur with a knowing smirk. 

Arthur groans with disappointment. Feeling his frustrations, you lean into Arthur’s side, your face close to his. “Don’t worry, it’s alright,” you whisper. “We’ll have plenty of time later.” Fortunately, you get at least an hour together to relax at the fire before Arthur has to take his leave to head to the look-out post.

Soon after, after the darkness has snuffed out the sunlight of the day, the camp begins to settle for the evening and the people begin to meander back to their respective places for the night. You stand up from your spot at the fire, stretching your stiff joints before bending over to pick up the blanket you were sitting on. Shaking out the fabric, you neatly fold the blanket over your arm and turn to head to your tent. 

You haven’t wandered too far off when you begin to hear the shuffling of footsteps behind you. And before you can say or do anything, the sight of Micah Bell comes into your line of vision. Your eyebrows crease in confusion as you wonder what in the world he could possibly want right now. 

“Looks like you and Arthur have finally "consummated", as it were. Tell me, (Y/N),” Micah sweeps his hand out in front of him, “Can anyone take a ride in that saddle?" 

You can only glare incredulously at him for such an insinuation. God, he is such a disgusting pig. Apparently, Micah is not only going to antagonize Arthur about it, but he’s going to make an attempt at you as well. 

"I mean, if you're gonna spread them pretty legs of yours for the likes of Morgan, can't imagine you got any high standards." Micah arrogantly drags his dirty fingers over his nicotine-stained mustache as if he is about to eat a delectable meal.

You slowly tilt your head at him, your gaze cold. "And that is what burns you up the most, isn't it, Micah?" Your eyes narrow at him, trying to figure out his angle as you play his little game. 

Micah licks his lips and nibbles a bit, taking the bait in return. "What's that, Princess?"

"That I would concede to lay with a man like Arthur, yet I won't even give you the time of day.” You cross your arms over your chest as you hold his gaze in defiance. “That must really get to you, hmm?" you purr.

The smugness instantly drops from Micah’s face being replaced with a sneer. You step a few paces closer, right up into his face so that he can smell the lavender oil you wear. His eyes rake over your body, noting how your cleavage gathers under your crossed arms. He can feel your warm breath scattering across his face. Your boldness, your lack of fear of him, is as annoying to Micah as it is arousing. He sucks his teeth in an effort to regain his composure as he stands in front of you. 

"Know this, Micah. Arthur Morgan is twice the man that you could ever even dream to be," you say with a chilling dead calm. "And in more ways than one, I might add.” 

Micah’s mouth twitches at that last rub. "Well, (Y/N), I guess it's a good thing I ain't ever aspired to be more than I am, then." His tone challenges yours as he leans even closer to you, the tone in the air bordering on threatening.

"That is unfortunate," you say coolly as you confidently hold your ground. "For all of us. Good night, Mr. Bell." And you turn to head into your tent, leaving Micah standing there alone in the cold night air. 

—----------------------------------

Arthur leans his shoulder against the large tree, staring out into the darkness of the woods. The moon is full tonight, looming high above the tree tops and cascading its bright silvery light upon the silent world below. He stands guard over the camp as a brooding sentinel as he slowly draws on yet another cigarette. Smoke huffs out of his lungs like that of a locomotive. 

This is not the place he wants to be right now, as his thoughts drift and focus on you and your night together. Even now, as he recalls even the smallest detail of last night, it seems like a dream to him. He half expects to wake at any moment alone in his tent, surrounded by nothing but the lonesome night, as it all seems just too good to be true. He still has no explanation as to how you seem to pull him in, but you just do. Like that same silvery moon hanging above that pulls on the ocean tides, you draw Arthur to you; just as unyielding, unchanging, and just as magical.

Suddenly Arthur’s daydream is interrupted by the very person he’s thinking about. He catches a wisp of fabric in his peripheral vision. Turning his chin over his shoulder, Arthur sees you coming down the path. He watches as your breath swirls in the frosty air, preceding you as you approach. Like an ethereal being, the moon’s glimmer casts your hair in a soft backlight, causing your gown to be almost see-through in the luminescence as he can see the outline of your calves as you walk. Your delicate hand clasps your shawl around you in the chill air while you carry something else in your other hand. As you get closer, Arthur can see that you have come to bring him a steaming cup of coffee. 

A huge smile instantly erupts across Arthur’s face as he pushes himself up off of the tree. "Hey there, Beautiful. What are you doin’ out here this late?"

The nickname causes your cheeks to burn red more than the chill night air that nips at your tender skin. 

“Coming to see you.” You hand him the cup of coffee, which he gratefully accepts and immediately takes a sip. The hot liquid instantly chases the cold from his tired body and offers just the pick-up that he needed. “How’s it going out here?” you ask as you shiver a bit before pulling the knit shawl tighter around yourself.

“Oh, loads of excitement.” Arthur’s dead-pan drawl makes you laugh a bit.

You snuggle up to his bulky frame, putting your hands around his ribs and looking up into his face with your beautiful (y/e/c) eyes. With his free hand, Arthur snakes his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him. Despite the cold night air, he is so warm that you just want to curl up into him again like you did at the shelter. He leans in to kiss you, his plump lips finding yours once again. Starting off slowly, your tongue quickly begins to wrestle with his. He tastes like the cigarettes and whiskey he's been consuming while out here. 

Dropping his chin, Arthur starts to kiss the tender skin underneath your ear before he proceeds to drag his fingertip along the area. “I love this spot,” he says, his voice a husky murmur in your ear..

“Do you, now?” you sigh with a silky tone of your own.

“MmmHmm. Because when I kiss it, you make that sound.” And he leans in again, placing another kiss in the same spot, only this time sucking a bit harder as his teeth catch your skin. And as if on command, a breathless whimper escapes your lips before you can control it and your eyes flutter closed again. It makes you melt at how playful he’s become just from simply providing him the opportunity and the feeling of being safe to do so. 

After a few more moments of delicious kisses and nuzzling, you pull away just a bit, leaving your faces hovering close to one another's.

"I’d better get out of here," you whisper, "before I’m any more of a distraction." 

"Too late for that now," Arthur hums, dipping his face down as he rubs his nose to yours, trying to entice you into another kiss. 

"Tell you what.” You pull your face back a bit more to get his attention only to be met with a playful scowl of disappointment from him. “I’ll be waiting for you in your tent. When you’re done here, you know where I’ll be." You reach up to set a soft kiss upon Arthur’s stubbled cheek. And with a teasing grin, you turn and saunter back toward the camp, hips swaying exaggeratedly. 

Arthur’s eyes follow you, the movement of your hips almost hypnotic, causing him to sigh deeply. And just like that, you are gone just as quickly as you had arrived; almost like a dream. 

"Damn..." he says with a slight amazement. 

—---------------------------------

It’s shortly before dawn when Bill comes down the path to relieve Arthur from his post. The large man ambles towards Arthur rubbing his bear-paw over his eyes and yawning profusely.

“I swear he’s walkin’ slower by the damn minute”, Arthur grumbles to himself with a huff when he lays his exhausted eyes on the man. He shoots Bill a look of annoyance as he briskly walks past the burly outlaw to head back to his tent. “I got things to do, Bill,” he snaps. 

Bill simply chuckles with that deep voice of his as he adjusts his hat on his head against the brisk early-morning air. “Oh, I bet you do, my friend.” 

Arthur can’t get back to his tent fast enough. He quickly strides across the camp, hurriedly passing by the other snoring and sleeping residents. It's still quiet out and the sun has yet to poke its radiant head above the horizon line. With any luck, Arthur will have a few hours alone with you before the flurry of daily activity kicks up again.

Excitement travels through Arthur’s exhausted body as he reaches his tent. The very sight of his humble little nest that waits for him in the shadows offers him a whole new level of tranquility. He is quick to notice that it is all silent and dark in the space. He half expected a candle to be burning or something. 

Arthur hesitates outside the canvas before quietly pulling back the flaps and peers in before entering. And he is elated at the sight of you asleep on his cot, waiting for him just as you said you would be. In the back of his mind, Arthur harbored some doubt that you would be here, thinking maybe you’d change your mind for one reason or another. He cherishes the idea that someone, but especially you, would be waiting for the likes of him. 

Arthur quietly creeps in and fixes the flaps back down to ward off the cold autumn breeze before it wakes you. He smiles to himself as he quietly shucks off his jacket and holster, his eyes continuing to rest on your sleeping form as he quietly moves about the tent.

He carefully sits on the edge of the cot, taking a moment to watch you sleeping peacefully. His eyes roam over your body from head to toe, taking in the sight of you and marveling at the treasure he has in front of him. 

You're laying comfortably on your back, hair splayed round your face on the pillow. Your one arm rests up by your face, the other lays gracefully across your abdomen. Arthur’s head tilts to the side as he observes how your chest slowly rises and falls with calm breaths. Your eyelids occasionally flutter, making your lashes dance upon your angelic face. Oh, what it must be like to rest so peacefully, he wonders. Maybe now with you by his side, he’ll get to know what that’s like. Maybe. 

Arthur places his hand beside your head as he leans over to gently kiss your delicate lips. The action causes you to startle awake, a sharp gasp crossing your lips as your hands shoot to his chest in surprise. But you are quickly relieved to see his handsome face hovering above yours. 

"Sorry," Arthur murmurs with an apologetic grin. "Couldn’t resist." 

You hum with a sleepy countenance as you slowly sit up, the heel of your hand rubbing your eye in an effort to wake yourself. You reach over to cup Arthur’s face and kiss him back as a welcome. When you pull away, you look him over, noting the sheer exhaustion that coats his whole body. 

"You look so tired," you say with a sympathetic smile. 

"I am tired." A deep sigh of acknowledgement escapes from Arthur’s chest as he reaches up to rub his eyes with his thumb and forefinger with his one hand.

You nod in understanding. "Okay, then." You smile sweetly as you take a moment to curl your fingers through his hair, touching your forehead to his, before you swing your legs over the side of the cot and start to stand up. 

Confused, Arthur sits up straighter with apprehension. "Where you goin’?"

You turn back around with a fluid and graceful movement as you catch his chin between your fingers in reassurance. "I’m just going back to my tent so you can get some sleep, is all." 

"Well…", Arthur huffs in disappointment, his face dropping and his hands flopping into his lap.

"What’s wrong?" you ask, slightly amused at his pouty face.

"I mean…I know we’re not gonna…you know…” Arthur waves his hand at you suggestively. "But I was hoping you’d stay with me while I get some sleep."

"Oh." A big smile erupts on your face. "Okay, then," you gush, biting your lower lip a bit and trying to contain your excitement. You move to settle back down onto the cot, scooching over and fidgeting to make room as Arthur lays down alongside you. 

“Boots, please” you say in a soft scold, tapping his shoulder.

"Huh? Oh!" And Arthur quickly sits back up to take off his boots. He’s so used to being on his own that he’s often just falling into bed, not even bothering to take off his jacket let alone his boots. Arthur is not used to having anyone in his space, let alone a woman in his bed. You look down with a soft smile as he pulls at his mud-dried boots with thick, clumsy fingers. 

He lays back down and gets settled once more. You both wiggle awkwardly, giggling as you do, so that you can both fit onto his squeaky one-person cot. You face each other as his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you close. You lift your leg over his, so that you can snuggle in tight, laying almost nose to nose to make room for each other. 

Finally finding a comfortable position, Arthur inhales deeply and lets out a long exhale. You smile as you watch the tension drain from his shoulders. (You swear he just lost about 2 inches in height in doing that.) You gently reach up and lay your hand along Arthur’s neck, fingers resting along his jawline, as your thumb sweeps across those scars on his chin. Your eyes scatter across the tired features of his strong and handsome face. 

You have no idea how this is going to play out between you two, but right now, you don't care. He is a risk, as you told him before, and your future together is an uncertain mystery. And yet, this is the most certain thing that you have felt in what seems like forever. Here, at this moment, in this precious, precarious little bubble, you are with Arthur, and that is all that matters.

"Hmmmm…that’s better," says Arthur, finally relaxed and content. 

“Happy, now?” you affectionately tease.

“Quite.”

"Goodnight, Arthur." Your honeyed voice sings to him in the darkness before you close your eyes again.

"Goodnight, (Y/N)."

See me, feel me, touch me, heal me

-Pete Townshend - The Who

*The line about the storm and the rainbow is based on a quote from the wonderful Dolly Parton, whom I idolize. And the “guardian angel” line is based on a meme that I saw.

***Ahhh! Finally! I've been working on this for over a year, but had to write the events that lead up to this first. But good news, this is not the ending! I have much more taking place after this. Some of it is fluffy, some will be smutty, some will be angsty! For those who are interested in reading a continuing storyline, I can tell you that my plan is to see this through to the end (which I have already written, btw). If anyone is interested in being on a taglist, let me know. (I am really bad at those, so I am trying to figure out how to keep track of that kind of thing.)

Comments and feedback are welcome! As I continue this story, I also want to develop my writing skills. So please let me know what you like and don't like.