#even replayed the colter chapter to get into the vibe

[sir-walton-goggins]

Seeking Warmth

Summary: After a rough escape from Blackwater, Kris and Arthur take refuge in Colter on a stormy night. Exhausted and shivering from the cold, they find some warmth in each other.

Rating: Mature (+18)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem oc

2.9k words

Thank you @raevennsge for being my beta reader and general counselor :3

The storm hissed violently in Kris’s ears as she pressed forward, begging her mare to resist just a little bit longer in the brutal, relentless blizzard. She neighed nervously, dragging the woman’s body as well as her own tiredly through the thick wall of snow.

“We’re almost there, girl” she reassured Cloud, weaving her fingers through the candid mane and across her long, speckled neck. Kris shivered, a breath of icy wind infiltrating down her neck through an opening in her thick scarf. She really hoped they were close: it was damn near impossible to tell, with that thick wall of fog and snow making everything disappear into a white, shapeless hellscape. Her face felt like it was being burned off, if she even had any sensation left on her skin. She curled into a ball, desperately trying to gather any remaining body heat to keep going.

Cloud pushed through the snow stubbornly, following the caravan before her. The stagecoaches carried the rest of the Van Der Linde gang in a bunch of neat little frozen packages. Kris felt like she was headed to Bethlehem to give birth to the next Messiah. If they had snow in the Middle East, that is.

‘I have my donkey’, patting on her mare’s back;

‘A cow’, she bitterly scowled at Susan Grimshaw, whom she recently had a very heated argument with;

‘Even the three wise men… each with their own unique, extravagant brand of wisdom…’

Uncle, Reverend Swanson and Simon Pearson all sat huddled together in the back of the coach, leaning against the food provisions. The cook had neglected to get most of them, so they were basically running out, and it wasn’t like food was gonna sprout up from the snow… He was gonna get an earful as soon as everybody else found out.

The baby was young Jack Marston, even though he himself had claimed that now, having reached his fourth year of age, he was ‘all grown up’ and ‘basically a man’, as Abigail liked to tease him. Still, he was the only one of them small enough to fit in a manger, so that made sense.

What about Joseph, the father? Easy: the father was her husband. Arthur Morgan, handy worker much like Joseph. And much like the surrogate father or the Lord, he went door to door to find a place for Mary to give birth… or for the gang to camp out.

He’d been gone for what seemed like hours. Kris was starting to get worried the blizzard had made him lose his direction.

Suddenly, a loud, muffled cry coming from the road up ahead.

“I found something!”

She could’ve recognized that voice everywhere.

A warmth of relief spread across Kris’s chest as she saw her husband trot closer to the first wagon, telling Dutch about the dilapidated shelter he found up ahead.

And dilapidated it surely was.

The half rotten wooden sign that greeted them read ‘Colter’. Apparently, it was an abandoned mining village, decked with empty, old wooden shacks the gang could temporarily use to wait the snowstorm out.

Kris made sure nobody was following them, staying behind in case any Pinkertons or lawmen showed up to surprise them. In the meantime, everybody got off the coaches and brought the few belongings they’d managed to snatch inside the shacks. A few fires were lit in the vacant fireplaces as the young woman hitched Cloud next to Arthur’s Boadicea, assuring they were fed and at least somewhat repaired from the sharp wind. She stood behind the two mounts, satisfied by the order of things: the married couple’s horses, resting next to each other. As it should be.

“Kris, go inside” Arthur materialized behind her, making her flinch, “They got a fire started. Go warm up, honey.” He laid a gloved hand on her shoulder.

She spun around to face him. Arthur stood in front of her as tall as ever, as broad as a wooden armoire. He was a comforting sight in times like those: he was always her rock, her buoy in the storm through all her troubles. His cheeks were particularly red, his rosacea not mixing well with the frigid cold of the Grizzlies, and his beard was overgrown from the many months on the run. He still managed to look dashing, tough.

She leapt in his arms, cringing from the initial coolness of his thick blue coat, but soon warming up against his torso. Arthur chuckled, cradling her head with his hand.

“Did’ya think you would get rid of me that easily?” he joked, taking in his wife’s warmth and secretly relieved to see her again.

Kris didn’t respond, all too focused on feeling Arthur’s body under her touch, taking in his smell, as if making sure he wouldn’t be torn from her again.

“Come with ,” she pulled him towards the shack, but Arthur had other plans.

“Sorry, Kris. Gotta deal with Dutch and Hosea first” he said, reluctant. Kris pouted and flashed him her signature doe eyes, so he rushed to add that he would join her as soon as he could.

“Fine” she conceded, letting go of his hand and striding towards the orange glow coming from the small shack.

Kris crouched next to Mary-Beth and Tilly in front of the fire, hovering her icicle fingers towards the wholesome, crackling heat. The women checked up on each other, making sure they were still in one piece.

Kris inquired about Davey Callander, the gravely injured gang member they had managed to patch up and bring over with them on the run. She couldn’t believe he had managed to survive the trip, but he laid there the whole time, hanging between life and death, resisting. He was a tough one, that Davey.

“I’m afraid Davey didn’t make it, Kris. I’m sorry.” Mary-Beth announced. Such a gentle soul to give such grim news.

“Oh god… poor Davey” Kris lamented, bowing her head, her eyes closed in mournful respect. She immediately thought of his brother, Mac, who got separated from the rest of the group back in Blackwater, after the massacre, along with that young boy Sean. He would be devastated… She really hoped that they were okay.

The departed Callander brother wasn’t known for his kindness: in fact, he made several passes at Kris before Arthur started courting her, so she fended him off fiercely. Despite that, his ego wasn’t bruised for long. He made sarcastic remarks and was always running from one job to the next. He was a great asset for the gang, a hard worker. But if Kris needed help with something, or fancied a friendly late night chat by the campfire, he was there. In those rare moments, softened up by the liquor, Davey had opened up to her about his past. Needless to say, he had a rough childhood, like most of her brothers and sisters did.

She would miss those talks with him.

Mellowed out by exhaustion and made talkative by the comfort of a heat source, the three girls reminisced about their favorite moments with the fallen man.

“Oh Tilly, remember that time you mended one of Davey’s shirts wrong, so when he wore it, he came to you with a huge hole poking through his chest?” Mary-Beth snickered.

Tilly laughed out loud at the memory. “Oh yeah, and then he joked that he should gift that shirt to Abigail, so she could breastfeed Jack easier!” the three all laughed, basking in a simpler time, when the gang had it easier and they weren’t on edge all the time.

The youngest woman smiled, staring off into the hearth. “I had just started learning how to sew,” she reminisced, an unspoken melancholy in her usually cheerful drawl, “and Davey didn’t make me feel bad about making a mistake. He was a good one.”

After that, nobody had much to add to the conversation. They simply sat next to each other, Kris laying her head on Tilly’s shoulder and Mary-Beth imitating her, the only background noise the popping and sizzling of the flames consuming the lumber.

They all instinctively turned their heads as the rickety door swung open.

Arthur walked in, wind whipping inside the room violently before he shut the door behind him.

“Sorry to intrude, ladies” he announced, still shivering from the cold, “but I gotta whisk Mrs. Morgan away to her lodgings.”

The girls snickered playfully as Kris walked to the door, wishing them a good night. The couple reached the main building of the establishment, a slightly bigger cabin with two bedrooms and a small living area with a chimney. Arthur led his wife to their room and shut the door, propping the only chair against it to make sure they wouldn’t be disturbed.

Kris shivered violently, adjusting to the room’s slightly less frigid temperature. Arthur was quick to embrace her, the warmth of his body slowly reaching her through his thick winter coat. He wiped the leftover snow off her hair, careful not to tangle his fingers in her waves, and stroked her back energically to shield Kris from the cold she had endured.

“Thank you” she sighed happily. “It feels much better already.”

Arthur hummed, satisfied. “Ready to turn in?”

Kris nodded, a big yawn emerging from her throat. She suddenly felt exhausted.

They both squeezed themselves in the tiny bed the room provided, snuggling together fully clothed. They had removed their hats and scarves and gloves, but that was the extent of what could be taken off inside an unheated room.

The young woman’s head rested on her husband’s chest, his heartbeat pumping regularly in her ears, Kris finally felt safe enough to relax and unwind. Arthur’s chest rumbled as he spoke to her.

“Today was a lot,” he inquired, “how are you feelin’?”

“Tired. And sad” Kris replied, all the day’s emotions stirring up inside her like a whirlwind. Lately, things seemed to only be falling more and more apart for the gang. She had a bad feeling she couldn’t shake off.

Arthur sighed and sniffled. “Yeah… me too.”

“Didn’t think Davey was gonna make it… but it’s still tough to accept he’s gone.”

“I know.” Kris rubbed his back, giving it a scratch here and there. She knew Arthur loved back scratches. It was her silent attempt at comforting him. “I’ll miss him too.”

They laid there in silence for some time, grieving the loss of their brother, wondering where the missing ones were now. If they had made it out of Blackwater safe.

“Man, what a mess…” Kris whispered, defeated, recounting the events that had sent them on a desperate escape through the snowy Grizzlies.

Arthur shifted, laying flat on his back with a groan. His back hurt more and more often lately, probably because of him getting older and living off the land so often. He was starting to think he wouldn’t be able to put up with that all throughout his forties. Hell, if he even lived to see his forties.

“Let’s not think of that right now,” he said, shifting the conversation elsewhere. “Let’s try to get some rest, darlin’.” The last sentence came out pained and the “darling” was distorted by a whimper.

Kris sat up, worried. She asked if his back hurt again, and Arthur nodded, sporting a new grimace on his face.

“Let me handle it” she gently maneuvered his torso towards the wall, so his back would be in front of her. Arthur gladly complied: Kris’s massages were the only thing that could soothe his back pains. He could’ve sworn her hands had some sort of miraculous healing property.

Kris rubbed her hands together, doing her best to warm them up before laying them on his exposed skin. She lifted his shirt and got to work on those sore muscles and ligaments, stirring up some moans and groans from Arthur as she worked to undo the knots and inflammation he had gathered in the last few weeks of work and travel. Eventually, the moans were replaced by sighs of relief.

“You are such a blessing” he laughed, feeling the pain ease up already.

“Yeah, a regular angel” she scoffed, urging him to roll back over so she could lean down to kiss him on the lips.

God, she had missed him.

She put all her feelings, the relief of him coming back alive, of them being still together, of finally having found shelter, in that kiss. Arthur’s chapped lips felt familiar and comforting in this new, strange environment.

He kissed her back, grateful he got to keep their little family intact amidst such troubles and death. As long as he had Kris, Arthur was content.

His beard scratched and tickled her, rough against her sensitive skin, but Kris didn’t mind. One hand on his chest, the other gently pressed against his unshaven cheek, she kissed him and everything else simply ceased to exist.

Kris pulled back just for a moment to catch her breath.

“I’m glad you weren’t swallowed up by the blizzard” she murmured on his lips. He laughed softly, looking up at Kris adoringly.

“Me too.” Arthur circled his fingers on her cheek, noticing it was quite red. He frowned, caressing it ever so gently with the back of his hand. He asked if he was hurting her, already cussing himself out internally for being so rough even when he didn’t mean to.

“I don’t mind” Kris reassured him, placing another soft peck on his lips. “I would never ask you to shave in this tremendous cold, honey.”

Arthur appeared conflicted for a second. The shaving kit was one of the many things that had gotten lost when they fled, so he couldn’t shave even if he wanted to. The cold was terrible and he despised it with all of his being, but Kris always came first to him, and he would’ve made the sacrifice.

He was torn between just trying to shave with his knife and cold water and stop kissing his wife… No. that wasn’t an option. Simply unreasonable. How could he not kiss her, when she was laying there next to him, so warm and soft and inviting...

He was seriously considering the knife, when Kris stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Don’t even think about that” as if she read his mind. The woman was something else.

“I’ll tell you when it’s too much, alright?”

“Alright.” Arthur decided he would try to be as gentle as he could. He turned her over so he was on top, and got to work with the gentlest kisses he could manage, all over her face, lips and exposed neck, watching her carefully for any sign of discomfort. She giggled, delighted, and enjoyed the ticklish, new sensation. Soon her cheeks were flushed, but not because of the cold or the irritation.

The rickety bed squeaked with their every movement, untimely reminder of what husband and wife usually do in bed together to make it that squeaky. An overwhelming warmth spread in her lower abdomen, and she bit her lip, conflicted.

If they took their clothes off, they would’ve froze their asses off. Plus, Dutch and Molly were just on the other side of the wall and, outside the door, sleeping on the floor on his bedroll, was Hosea.

Arthur recognized the look in his wife’s eye. It was familiar to him, having seen it many times when they were alone: that twinkle of desire that always made his guts turn inside out and stomach fill up with butterflies. He had an idea.

He whispered something in Kris’s ear which turned her from slightly flushed to a full tomato red in seconds. But she nodded in agreement, already suffocating a moan as Arthur pressed himself against her, rocking back and forth in a slow pace.

She instinctively lifted her hips to meet his, rutting against them, every movement sending lightning bolts and pangs of pleasure towards her pubic area. But there was an unwanted obstacle between them: their coats.

Already feeling much hotter, they got rid of them, throwing them haphazardly to the side, all the while continuing to dry hump each other, picking up the pace fast as they both got desperate, huffing and puffing and swallowing most of their moans and whimpers to avoid being heard.

The friction became even more delicious without an extra layer in between them, and they slid effortlessly on each other. A loud groan escaped Arthur’s lips without him even realizing, as he was quickly approaching his climax. He was trying to resist, but the sight of Kris all sweaty and grinding against him was making it even harder (no pun intended).

The creaks of the wood and mattress springs multiplied as they sped up, racing towards their orgasms, which swept them both off their feet quickly, taking them to a much sweeter place for a few, wonderful seconds.

They laid still and breathless, limbs weak and limp against the mattress. Arthur collapsed heavily on Kris, exhausted but content, and he wrapped her in his arms, but not before gently kissing her lips, as he always did after.

She exhaled happily, enjoying the pressure of Arthur’s weight pinning her down to the bed. It made her feel safe, and loved.

“Guess you ain’t so cold anymore” Arthur breathed shakily, making Kris laugh out loud. The ironic emphasis he always put on words never ceased to tickle her.

“Not a problem we’re gonna have, when we’re together” she joked back, patting him on the back and giving his butt a playful squeeze. He let out a surprised gasp, but didn’t protest.

Instead, he rolled over, wrapping himself around Kris’s waist, head on her back as they both drifted off into a restful slumber.