#arthur morgan x reader smut | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

photo1030 · 4 months

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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."

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x reader smut #arthur morgan x f!reader

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mrmorganslove · 20 days

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ride it cowgirl .

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• Arthur morgan x fem!reader

• rating: explict :3

• Warnings: smut, fluff, arthur getting his pretty girl to ride him! degrading and blah blah. its just smut 🥸

• somewhat low honor and high honor…?

•a short lil fic because this has been on my mind for a while. (it is not the best because its quick 😞)

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The afternoon sun shined through the curtains at the Saint Denis hotel. “Alrigh’ come on up on my lap sweetheart” he was laid back half sat up against the soft white pillows, he still had his hat, shirt and pants sitting on hid muscular thighs, his hard cocking resting against shirt. he reached over, grabbing your bare hips, your wet cunt hovering above his throbbing erection. “Jesus Darlin’ yer drippin’ fer it.” teasing you as he slowly lowered your hips down moving them back and forth at achingly slow pace. “A-arthur.. oh god p-please..” Stopping the movement he gave a dirty smirk.

One hand stayed on your hip rubbing slow little circles as the other snaked up towards your breast massaging as his thumb swiped your nipple, a whine escaped your swollen lips, it made you shiver, weak in the knees. “Sorry darlin’ i need ya to speak up fer me, can you do that for your daddy baby?” he said in the most teasing tone as he continued to knead your tit. “Please fuck me arthur.. i need you so bad please” you pouted as you lowered your hips down and searched for that sweet friction.

As he saw your desperate and lewd acts, he chuckled darkly. “look at c’yew, such a lil’ slut aching fer it. rubbing all up on it, so fuckin desperate.” as he raised you up, he got ahold of his cock and put you down on it with ease sinking down. You let out a pathetic moan, your eyes closed softly as you both twitched. His groan was like music to your ears.

Taking his hat off he placed it on your head, he loved the way you looked in any form of his clothing. “Now cowgirl, yer gonna do exactly as i say n’ yer gonna ride like there’s no tomorrow.” you let out a mewl at his words, starting to slowly bob up and down on his cock, every noise was escaping your lips. “ah! a-arthur, you feel s-so good” you whine as he presses wet kisses against your neck, also leaving love bites that you were sure enough that were going to be there for a while. “Yer such a good lil’ girl for my cock, ain’t c’yew darling” you let out a whine and nod. he smacks your ass and grips it. “Use yer words. like good lil whore.” “yes im a good girl for y-your c-cock!” He groaned at your submissiveness. “Git up and ride.” he smacked the underside of your thigh.

“Fuckin’ christ..” his head fell back as he let out a gravelly groan, it made you clench around him tightly. Arthur slapped the underside of your thigh again a little harder which made you gasp. “Cmon cowgirl, ride faster. i know yew can” he scowled as you moved your hips doing as Arthur asked. his gaze was fixated on your body as your muscles tensed, face contorted in pleasure. “Shit… Yer doing so well for me my good girl, my pretty girl.” His words nearly made you climax on the spot. Your hand reached down to find your neglected bud. “i-im so close.. fuck. im gonna”

Arthur growled, he replaced your digits as his thumb found that little pearl under that hood, adding the right amount of pressure. Arthur couldn’t hold back as he started to thrust up into you. “d-daddy gonna.. cum!”

You choked on your whines and moans, eyes rolled to the back of your head at the sudden delicious movement, his one hand focused on rubbing at that pearl of yours and the other held on your hip he lets out a low groan “Cmon darlin’. cum fer me cum for daddy.” just those words and the knot in your lower stomach comes undone. The most pornographic moans were leaving your lips. You were sure other guests in the hotel heard. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your legs twitch and shake as arthur continues thrusting into your convulsing pussy. you can tell he’s so close, his breathing is heavy and shaky as he groans “Oh shit, oh sh- fuuuucckk!” ropes of cum shoot up into your sensitive cunt. his thrusts slow down until they come to a stop, you both heavily breathing from the event that just occurred.

“Christ woman ya never fail to amaze me; and ya look tew good with my hat on.” you giggled at his words, he softly smiled and leaned towards you giving you a slow & passionate kiss. Slowly he pulled out of you, a and went to retrieve a cloth to clean you up. Arthur got rid of the cloth and hopped into bed next to you, cuddled against each other. “I love you arthur.” “Love ya too darlin’.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

how cute !!!!!

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x reader smut #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 fic

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reaveries · 1 year

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▬ a warm place for numb fingers (18+)

summary: after a conversation with a friend, tension arises between the reader and arthur. action is ultimately forced into her hands... or fingers, more like.

pairings: high honor!arthur morgan x female!reader

warnings: mature content (18+)// explicit descriptions of fingering, cunnilingus, and some good ol' fucking

word count: 5.7k (estimated 23-minute reading time)

a/n: this goes out to all the cold and horny girls out there. i see you and i salute you. enjoy the fic

masterlist archive of our own

The chill was an inescapable thing and it followed her closely wherever she went. It burned her face red whenever she emerged from the mining town cabins. When she’d been forced to ride against it in fierce storms, it possessed her hair to lash violently across her cheeks in a blinding fury. And once those storms passed, it continued to insatiably lap at any skin left exposed to its gnawing teeth. Numbness in her fingertips became commonplace, leaving her defenseless as her trigger finger trembled beneath thin leather gloves. Like a starved coyote, the chill searched for any scrap of flesh it could find and devoured it to the bone. It wasn’t forgiving, as nature often isn’t.

She draws her coat closer to her body now, but the little winds continue to hungrily nip at her cheeks and dust them pink. What once ravaged her has become meek since they’ve descended the peaks of the Grizzlies. But it’s still there, and will continue to be until spring thaws the world.

“Can’t believe I’m lookin’ at one of the most wanted outlaws this side of the Dakota.”

She looks up from her feet and sees Karen smiling, holding a cigarette between her fingers. She brings it to her lips and draws out the smoke.

“God, if the Pinkertons knew how big of a baby you really are, maybe they’d have tried their luck in Colter,” she says with a cheeky grin.

“That’s the only way those fuckers could’ve taken me down,” the outlaw says, laughing bitterly into her scarf. “I’ve never done well in the cold. Every day that I wake up and can’t feel my toes, I’m closer to packing up and fleeing to New Austin. Thinking of building myself a house made of cacti.”

She walks through the frost-laden grass to where her friend stands, overlooking the Dakota river.

“You’re fulla shit,” Karen says, rolling her eyes. “The day you leave this bunch will be the day God, himself, shoots you off your horse. Got too much love in your little heart for the lot of us.”

The woman chuckles dryly, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Got too much love for you, Karen,” she says in a sickeningly sweet tone and leans in, tilting her head dramatically to the side as if to give her a sloppy kiss.

“Get the hell away from me!” Karen screeches and fumbles to push her away.

The outlaw stumbles backward lazily with her head thrown back in laughter.

“You play around too much, you know that?” Karen says, shaking her head, but the forceful tug on the right side of her lips gives her away.

She smiles down her nose at the blonde woman, “Yeah, that’s what I keep hearin’.”

Once they both settle down, Karen extends the cigarette to her, offering whatever she can manage as it quickly dies out. She takes it between her forefinger and thumb and lets the smoke warm her from the inside.

“You know what I overheard some of the workin’ girls sayin’ when I was in town?” Karen speaks up as the smoke escapes the woman’s throat.

She hums in question. Words out of the mouth of a working girl can hardly ever be taken for truth, but damn if they weren’t entertaining.

“Apparently, the number of clients they get skyrockets in the winter months. Somethin’ about men subconsciously wantin’ to be warmed up so they seek out activities that make ‘em break a sweat.”

She nods, “I guess that makes enough sense.”

Karen shakes her head, “That’s not all. The girls were also sayin’ that as it gets colder, the men are more and more riled up. Almost like it’s something with the moon, but instead of turnin’ into the dogman, they just wanna bury themselves in a woman real bad. But all I’m hearin’ while these girls are sayin’ this is that we got ourselves a bunch of fools too dumb to think clearly down in that little town.”

She stomps the life out of the cigarette with the toe of her boot, her spurs jingling as she drives it into the dirt.

“Ain’t no way that’s true,” she says with a sardonic smile. “That last part, sure, but the moon’s got nothin’ to do with it.”

“Well, somethin’s gotta explain it,” Karen says and crosses her arms defensively across her chest. “I can tell ya, once it gets colder the men start lookin’ at ya different. I never noticed the link ‘till now but it kinda makes sense.”

She has to fight the laugh rising in her chest as she tries to seriously process the idea that men are becoming more aroused due to a giant orb in the sky. It takes everything in her not to but Karen sees right through her.

“It ain’t that ridiculous, you know. You can’t tell me you ain’t never noticed Arthur actin’ different.”

The amusement rapidly drains from her face and is replaced by a look of bewilderment.

“What are you talkin’ about Arthur for? Arthur and I are just friends, we ain’t like that,” she sputters out.

“Oh, sorry,” Karen says, putting her hands up, “I forgot you was still on that.”

Her flustered reaction surprises even herself, causing a creeping warmth to crawl its way to her cheeks. A biting retort fumbles dumbly in her mouth.

“I’m not on anything. Don’t know what got in your head but it ain’t never been like that between Arthur and me.”

“It ain’t just in my head, honey. Everyone here knows it. You think folk ain’t seein’ the way you two touch up on each other the way you do? How neither of you goes nowhere without the other? Get real. It’s plain as day to everyone but yourself.”

She tosses a quick glance over her shoulder, hoping no one is near enough to hear their conversation. Instead, she sees that the camp has slowly come to life while she’d been distracted by Karen. Folk have begun their morning chores, migrating from washboards to clothing lines or splitting logs of wood in two. Her eyes flit across their faces until they land on the one she’s searching for. He’s far enough away, speaking with Pearson by the food supplies wagon. The cook waves his hands around animatedly but he’s turned away from her so she can’t tell what they’re speaking about. Arthur looks past the man and meets her eyes. He smiles and nods at her, to which she returns with a forced thin smile of her own.

“You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Karen,” she mutters, and without turning to say goodbye, walks away.

And yet, Karen’s words burrow themselves deep within her mind and linger in the spaces between each normal thought as the day continues. Surely she'd been exaggerating and not everyone in camp suspects her and Arthur to be intimate with each other. Karen just thinks she knows more than she does sometimes. It was very much like her to be overly confident about certain things, proclaiming them as fact even past the point she knows she’s wrong. Then again, that also wasn't the first time someone had mistaken their closeness for something more amorous in nature. Dutch, having watched her throw an arm around Arthur and share from his bottle, assumed the pair had made themselves official. This prompted some proud fatherly spiel wherein he clapped Arthur on the back and congratulated him. It was vague enough that neither of them knew what he was referring to until later. Once they both realized, it gave them a good doubled-over, tears-from-the-eyes sort of laugh. But Arthur quickly cleared it up with the man, assuring him that there was nothing of that sort going on. Apparently, Dutch remained unconvinced.

As she sharpens her knife, an interesting thought intrudes past the others. For a moment, she wonders if Arthur might be an exception to this phenomenon the working girls were talking about. He never spoke of women the way that most men did. So, if he’d ever been interested in that sort of way, she wasn’t privy to it in the slightest. But, he’s still a man and he isn’t immune to the desires of men. Could it be possible that Arthur wishes for a woman to warm his bed at night? Or perhaps, on the coldest nights, a woman to warm himself inside?

Her blade slips against the whetstone and nearly slices her hand open as depraved imagery flies behind her eyes. She curses loudly and the knife drops to the dirt with a muffled thud.

A horse gallops and skids next to the hitching post beside her and the rider quickly flies off the mount, hitting the earth with heavy feet. She looks up from her hand and it’s him. There’s a pristine buck carcass flung over the back of his mare from a hunting excursion he must be returning from.

“You alright?” He asks in a raised voice, meeting her with a walk that holds no patience. He looks down at her hands, likely expecting to see them covered in blood. His shoulders drop in relief when he can’t find any.

“I’m fine,” she says, standing up quickly and brushing dust off her pants. She forcefully clears her head of the intrusive thoughts, worried he might be able to see them if he looks too close.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack, woman. Don’t know what I’d do if you went and chopped off your trigger finger,” he says, running a stressed hand through his hair.

“You’d have to find a new riding partner, that’s for sure,” she quips unenthusiastically.

A breath of laughter leaves his lips to tell her she’s being ridiculous.

“Naw… There ain’t no replacin’ you. Ain’t a single person here has what it takes to put up with half the shit you and I do. We’d just have to teach ya to shoot with four fingers.”

His tone is lighthearted but there’s a hint of sincerity to his words that makes her cock her head in intrigue. He notices the change in her expression and quickly backpedals.

“Ah, don’t let that get to your head, now! I can barely tolerate ya most days. There’s just… no denyin’ you’re one of the best shots here,” he says, avoiding her eyes.

She smiles smugly and pats his chest.

“Tell me something I don’t know, cowboy.”

“Like I said, I can barely tolerate ya,” he says, swatting her hand off him. “Anyways, you mind takin’ that buck to Pearson? I need to have a word with Dutch about tomorrow.”

“Sure thing,” she says and slips past him to retrieve the fresh game.

She hoists the buck over her shoulder and nearly gasps from the unexpected weight. The animal is nowhere near light and it’s a wonder he managed to cleanly take down the thing. He looks over his shoulder at the sound of her boot scuffling in the dirt as she steadies herself.

She stumbles over to Pearson’s wagon and throws the carcass down on the ground. The cook is nowhere to be found so she figures she’ll save him the trouble and put her sharpened blade to good use. The knife cuts cleanly through the skin like warm butter, separating the hide from tender pink insides. As she’s making the final incisions, she looks up from the gruesome sight and sees Arthur talking to Dutch outside his tent. He seems relaxed enough, his hands resting on the buckle of his gun belt while he talks. It’s something he does often, just like someone might stuff their hands in their pockets for the sake of keeping them occupied. An endearing little action. And yet, for some reason, the common and utterly insignificant act of him doing this makes her forget herself.

Maybe it’s the suggestion of him holding a different object hidden beneath the confines of denim, right below his loose grip. Because the longer she looks, a vision of him taking himself into a fisted hand begins to overshadow her mind. He’s lying in his cot, and while everyone else huddles together for warmth in their makeshift beds, he’s fucking his hand in the darkness of his tent. His eyes are screwed shut and his mouth is parted slightly, but no noise escapes his lips to save himself the mortification of someone walking past and overhearing. He quickens the pace of his pumping hand and breathes out a quiet, ragged moan as he coats his stomach with ropes of sticky seed. His chest heaves, then slows to normal before he wipes the evidence away with a worn shirt.

Arthur looks at her with a confused look on his face. He waves a hand slowly in mock greeting to rouse her from her dazed state. Dutch, mid-sentence, turns to look over his shoulder, but she averts her eyes before they can meet his.

“Holy shit,” she whispers. She frantically finishes skinning the deer with her chin to her chest to hide the furious blush tormenting her cheeks.

Once she’s finished, she practically sprints back to her tent before Arthur can ask her what her deal is. She closes the flaps hastily and goes to sit on the edge of her bed to collect herself.

It’s not like she’s never fantasized about a person before, and she’s taken people to her bed more times than she can remember. This flustered feeling isn’t rooted in some virgin-like innocence, and yet she might as well be a pastor’s daughter with the way she’s blushing over it.

It’s because it’s him. He’s her partner. Her friend. Someone who’s grown to understand her better than she understands herself. She’s been the same person for him ever since they crossed paths in Montana all those months ago. Many feelings, albeit platonic, have come and gone since that fateful encounter, but lust? Lusting after a friend may be the most foreign feeling she’s stumbled upon in all her years of living.

A griminess so thick and so palpable enshrouds her, weighing heavily, filthily, on her skin. And there’s only one solution that comes to mind.

She straddles the firmness between her thighs as it bounces rhythmically beneath her. A moan unintentionally escapes her lips in response to the merciless feeling down below. Her blouse sticks to damp skin and plasters itself lewdly against the curves of her stomach and chest as her hips rock back and forth. Another moan. This one more pained than the last.

Her thighs have always burned something fierce whenever she’d mount her horse directly after a bath. Soft, herbal-scented skin would grate against thick cotton of riding trousers, eliciting the pained gritting of teeth. But this time, the minor uncomfortable sensation is preferable, simple, compared to the complexities of her consuming thoughts from earlier. A hot bath was her saving grace as it turned out. It cleared her head and made her feel like her normal self again. Whatever thoughts she’d been having of her partner had been washed away and left behind at the bottom of the steel tub like some tainted baptism.

She rides through the trees that fringe the perimeter of camp and calls out to Javier, who stands guarding the entrance. He gives her a short wave, and nothing else. The two of them haven’t talked much, despite having ridden together for over a year now. Most of the men in camp tend to keep to themselves, she’s noticed. It’s a shame the talkative Irish man went and got himself killed in Blackwater. He knew how to have a good time. He always claimed the two of them were kindred spirits, but she heavily denied it each time since it read like an insult.

She swings herself off the saddle and, like a moth to a lantern, migrates toward the fire to warm herself. The sun has sunk beneath the horizon and with it any amount of heat it provided, leaving her a shivering mess. Dinner bubbles inside the stew pot, prompting her to grab a portion before taking a seat on one of the logs.

The fire is reduced to glowing embers that do little to warm her bones. She nudges the logs with her boot but they just shift and plume ash. Sighing, she tugs closed the lapels of her coat and brings a spoonful of venison stew to her lips. The steaming broth slides down her throat and settles in her belly, making a furnace of her stomach. It’s a nice feeling, one that quiets her mind.

Suddenly, the log shifts as someone sits beside her.

“Where’d you disappear off to?” He asks. “I couldn’t find ya anywhere.”

Arthur settles to sit hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees, a bowl of stew in his hands. He’s wearing a dark long-sleeve shirt and a light jacket, but not much else to protect him from the cold. In fact, when she looks around, no one else seems to mind the chill as much as she does. Maybe Karen was right in calling her a baby.

“Nowhere special. I just had to go into town for a bit,” she says, taking another sip of the stew.

He nods his head, “Had to go into town and get yerself a bath, huh?”

She turns sharply to look at him, her brows drawn together in confusion.

“I could smell the lavender oil the minute ya hitched yer horse,” he explains. “What’s that about? Are ya plannin’ on finally actin’ like a lady or somethin’?”

She shoves his shoulder with her free hand.

“Shut up Arthur. You act more like a lady than I do,” she accuses. “Also, it might do ya good to take a bath for once.”

That last part she says a little lower than the first. Sometimes when they’d be out on extended errands they’d bathe in the river together. But no matter how much he scrubbed his skin, the stench of cigarette smoke and sweat would linger in the closed tent when she lay beside him in her bedroll at night. She always put up with it though because it likely meant she didn’t smell much better.

“The hell’s that s’posed to mean?” He asks, looking visibly taken aback.

“It means you smell like—”

“Naw, not that. Whatchu mean I act like a lady?”

“Oh. It means you’re goin’ all soft, big guy. Take it as a compliment,” she says, trying to suppress a smile.

“Great. First Dutch, now you. I ain’t goin’ soft, girl. And I sure as hell ain’t turnin’ into a woman,” he says, looking away from her and shaking his head. “As if you even knew what it meant to be one. Look at yerself!” He adds with an indignant wave of his hand that gestures from the top of her head to her feet.

She doesn’t need to look. Her coat is crafted from bear and bison pelts, made to fit a man larger than herself because the trapper lacked the expertise to tailor one for a woman. It keeps her warm enough, which is all that should matter. Wearing clothes that flatter her figure ranks relatively low on her list of priorities when every day is a fight to not freeze to death. On top of that, folk have always been mighty eager to remind her of her femininity whenever she dared step outside the docile role of her fairer sex. Which, in her line of work, was often.

“I’ll have you know I consider myself an expert on the matter… ma’am.”

She starts to snicker but when she looks over at him his jaw is set and he’s giving her a side-eye that makes the noise die in her throat.

“Keep callin’ me a lady and see where it gets ya, woman. Y’ain’t gonna be laughin’ when I’m forced to prove myself to ya.”

If there was ever any heat being produced in her body, it's all gone and rushed to her face just now. She stares at him, unblinking.

“What?”

“Mm, s’what I thought,” he says, bringing a spoon of potatoes and broth to his lips. “Now, if you’re done foolin’ around, are you comin’ with us tomorrow or not? Dutch said you might but I know you’ve got a lot on your plate as is.”

He said he’d prove himself to her. Prove that he’s a man. There’s hardly any innocent way to interpret that.

“Tomorrow?” She asks. “What’s happening tomorrow?”

He looks at her all funny-like, slightly annoyed even.

“Did you drink the bathwater or somethin’? The O’Driscoll told us they was all holed up in some cabin not far from here. Mentioned Colm is with’em. I only told ya about it a handful of times.”

She hears him but isn’t really listening. The phrase repeats on a loop in her head. She wants to ask him what he meant by it but the moment’s passed and she knows there’s no real answer. If asked, he’d just say he was teasing her and there’s nothing more to it.

He calls her name, bringing her out of her stupor. She opens her mouth to say something but the wind picks up. A bone-rattling shiver possesses her, making her shrink inside herself. He stares at her, unphased by the chill but with concern etched into his handsome features.

“Sorry, Arthur. I- I don’t know where my head’s at,” she says through clenched teeth.

“S’Alright,” he says, looking her over. “I forget how sensitive you are to the cold.”

He sets his bowl on the ground and brings his hands to cup around his mouth, heating them with hot breath. He then takes her hands into his and clamps around them, transferring warmth to numb fingers.

“Jesus, you’re freezin’,” he says.

He brings her hands close to his mouth and repeats the same action, trying to warm them back to life with his breath. He presses into her palms, massaging heat from the pads of his fingers into hers.

Had he done this simple gesture for her yesterday, she likely would’ve just felt grateful to feel her fingers again. But today isn’t like yesterday. Yesterday, she wasn’t acutely aware of the ever-present moisture nearly dripping down her thighs or the dull, aching pain at her core as it practically begs to be filled by a man. Yesterday, she didn’t envision that man to be Arthur. She didn’t envision herself blissed out and bouncing on his cock, being guided by his hands gripping her ass and forcing her all the way down on him every time. She also didn’t visualize their sweating naked bodies pressed against one another as he hoists her legs around his waist and fucks her relentlessly against the side of his wagon. Yesterday was, without a doubt, much easier than today. Today she’d thought of all these things and more.

She watches attentively how he holds her slender fingers in the thickness of his own. Those hands have snuffed out the lives of many, brutally at that. She’d seen them wrapped around the necks of men, crushing their windpipes and severing their spines when he’d been provoked on the wrong sort of day. Lots of blood on those hands. But there’s just as much on hers and in this moment, those blooded hands are so tender towards her.

If these same hands could kill without remorse, yet be so gentle when the time came for it, then by God, what else were they capable of?

She slips her hands out of his faster than she intended to.

“Thank you, Arthur,” she whispers, looking away.

“Sure. Maybe that’ll help ya to start actin’ normal again. Get the blood flowin’ to yer brain and such.”

If only he knew it was doing the opposite. Blood is flowing elsewhere and she’s the furthest from normal she’s been in a long while.

She stands up, leaving the bowl of stew unfinished on the ground.

“Here’s hoping,” she says, her hands clasped together to preserve his heat.

Her boots crunch ice-bitten dirt loudly beneath their heels as she makes her way through the quiet camp and to her tent. She doesn’t realize she’s holding her breath until the flaps close shut behind her.

“What… What is wrong with you?” she asks no one. Her tent is empty, and even though she wants to be alone, this is no comfort.

Her palms dig into the concave of her eye sockets, rubbing them furiously to wake herself up. She groans and shrugs off her coat, letting it collapse onto the floor. Her boots are kicked off her feet and her shirt is made quick work of before it’s thrown violently across the room. Her pants meet the same fate, being unbuttoned and kicked off, then kicked again so they lie atop the other garments. She collides with her mattress in a huff and lies there to stare at the ceiling of her tent, chest rising and falling rapidly.

She’s not going to be laughing when he’s forced to prove himself to her.

Why is that phrase repeating over and over in her head? More importantly, why is she closing her eyes and slipping her hand beneath the waistband of her combinations?

She pauses. It’s wrong to do this. So wrong. To touch herself with visions of him in her head is sick. But she needs it so badly, so desperately she needs this to be taken care of. The throbbing at her core ultimately wins over her conscience, and forcefully pushes guilt to the side.

Her fingers slide between the delicate folds down below, the slick moisture coating her digits easily. She imagines it’s his hand. Large and warm, playing with her and teasing out moans by dancing around her clit. He asks her if it feels good, but only incoherent noises leave her lips.

He chuckles and the breath of his laughter hits her center as he dips his head between her thighs. Lips replace fingers, sucking and leaving open-mouthed kisses heavy with tongue, ravishing her like a starved man. Her thighs clench around him and her calves tremble against his bare back. She whispers praises to him when she can find the words.

Please keep going. You’re doing so good. So good.

Both of her hands tangle themselves in his hair. She can’t help but pull on the strands the minute he slides his thumb inside her all the way to the knuckle. Her back arches off the cot at the sudden sensation but he pulls her back down, locking her in with a hand wrapped around her thigh. She can feel him smile against her, momentarily letting up the relentless forces of his mouth. He’s loving watching her squirm beneath him, because of him.

But the combined sensation of his thumb fucking her and the concentrated movements of his tongue at her clit nearly drive her to the edge. She squirms and brings her knees up around him, causing him to pull away and leave her empty.

Ya have to keep still, darlin’.

He coaxes her legs back open, spreading them apart with firm hands. But before he can return, she whispers desperate words that fall sweetly on his ears. He changes direction and begins to kiss his way north, traces of her still on his lips as they press wetly to her stomach, then her breasts, and then her neck. While he trails up her jaw, she tugs down his union suit from where it gathers at his hips. He assists her clumsily by shaking it off his legs and kicking it to the floor, where it now lies atop her own discarded clothing.

Before he takes her, he hovers on rested elbows and searches her face for any sign of reluctance. Only half of his features she can see clearly as warm oranges and yellows flicker across it from the lantern at her bedside. The fringe of his hair tickles her forehead, teasing her into closing the distance between them. With a hand on the back of his neck, she brings him down to her level and connects their lips. Their mouths move roughly against one another, their noses squishing and bending against the pressure of their touch.

He’s warm, so warm. His mouth is hot against her tongue and the points on her body where the two of them meet are ablaze with a fire that spreads down, and down, until it rests in a sweltering mess at the apex of her thighs. She needs him, were the words she’d whispered. And she needs him now. She reaches down between their two bodies to where his cock grazes against her legs and with a sure hand, takes hold of it and guides it to her entrance. She can’t see it but it feels thick in her grasp; her hold not permitting thumb and forefinger to meet.

The head slips gently inside and opens her up to him with a slow, shallow movement of his hips. He removes his lips from hers and rests his forehead against her own, looking down and indulgently watching himself disappear inside of her inch by inch. It fills her deliciously, stretching her open until he eventually bottoms out and their pelvises lie flush with one another. She lets out a sharp exhale at the contact, knowing he’s sheathed fully inside of her. Before he moves again, she brings her legs around his waist and crosses her ankles so his movements are limited to being shallow and forceful.

The cot squeaks beneath them as he pulls out and thrusts back in, slow at first. He quickly picks up the pace, pistoling his hips to give short thrusts that fill her to the hilt each time with a near-bruising force. One hand wraps around the meat of her thigh and another hand starts rubbing furious circles at her clit. She throws her head back with a wide-opened gasp at the explosive euphoric sensation of being filled by him and the simultaneous attention given to the sensitive nub. He goes even faster when he sees how close she is, and within seconds she unravels beneath him.

She notices through her clouded gaze his brows screwing together and lips parting as her soft muscles throb around the swell of his cock. It’s too much for him. He hurriedly pulls out and releases himself on her belly, coating it with spurts of his seed. He looks at her breathlessly through hooded eyes.

The two of them lie panting, him still stationed between her legs with a heaving chest and weary gaze. He leans down and places a chaste kiss on the inside of her thigh before slumping beside her and laying there in his nakedness.

She cums hard against diligent fingers. Hot and tingly ecstacy spreads from her core throughout her limbs, fluttering her eyes to the back of her skull and leaving her a panting mess. Once that passes and the drowsiness that always follows a dumbing climax sets in, she realizes she’d conjured a strange ending to her fantasy. It was one of genuine intimacy, not driven by the carnal desires of her body.

Thankfully, sleep takes over before she can begin trying to process whatever that means. She drifts off as remnants of pleasure buzz beneath her skin and warm her beneath ticking sheets.

Morning comes quickly, and the accompanying chill of a new day forces her off the cot in search of heavier clothing. She pulls fleece-lined chaps over jeans and buttons them at the waist before throwing on the bear coat she’s worn every day since Colter. As she slips her arms into the clothing, she thinks back on last night. There’s no reason to make a big deal of it. Surely men get off with much worse ideas in their heads about the people they know. She hopes all of that is behind her now that it’s been forced out of her system.

But this is not the case.

This hope is massacred in vain shortly after being conceived. For the day is ablaze with yearning, shame, and raging inferno.

Accompanying Arthur to the hideout was soon realized as a mistake. Every small, inconsequential thing he did served to stoke the fire blistering her loins. Every word whispered atop the secluded hillock, every incidental brushing of skin, and every intentional one too. It all fanned incessantly at consuming flames.

She rides back to camp alone with heavy pockets and a heavier conscience. And as she approaches the grounds, she sees her friend, the blonde woman, standing guard outside. Without thought, she throws her reins and swings herself off the horse, hitting the earth hard and swift. A blustering storm brews inside her, fighting against fire and losing. She approaches Karen, treading heavily over branch and stone, a wild look in her eyes.

“Karen!” She calls out.

The woman turns to face her, her rifle lowering just as quickly as it’s raised.

“Oh, it’s just you. You here to tell me I don’t know what I’m talkin’ about again? If so, you can keep on walkin’, bigshot.”

She sighs and runs a frustrated hand through her wind-tangled hair.

“No! No, I- I didn’t mean it,” she says, with an unmistakable sound of desperation in her voice. “Karen, you were right.”

Karen’s tensed shoulders sink beneath her coat and her features soften. She doesn’t seem to understand, but she’s no longer angry. It’s difficult to be when her friend stands before her, uncharacteristically vulnerable and fumbling with words.

Whatever forces are at work here, be it the chill, the moon, or an unknown third thing, it can be certain she is out of her depth, adrift in deep ice waters. And he is calling to her like a siren’s song but she knows it is an illusion she has conjured up and there is no solace allowed to be found there. He cannot take her like she needs so deeply to be taken by him. It would ruin them, for certain. Because they are not a wholesome people, and despite that, their bond has been forged by goodness. Something like that is uncommon for folk like themselves. It should be held closely, protected from whatever may destroy it, even if it is from herself. It’s for that reason she withdraws her hand, rides alone, averts wandering eyes, and tries her utmost best to quench the flames.

And yet, it has been only a day.

“You were right.”

#red dead redemption 2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr #rdr2 fic #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur x reader #smut #rdr2 smut #red dead redemption smut #arthur morgan x reader smut

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elfven-blog · 2 months

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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.

#arthur morgan x femalereader #arthur morgan x reader #arthurmorgan #Arthur morgan xF!reader #arthur morgan x fem reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader smut #ghost rider!arthur morgan #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 smut #rdr2 x f!reader

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stoutpancakes · 4 months

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differences: arthur morgan x reader

warnings: smut, afab!reader, mdni 18+, slight angst if you squint

another arthur morgan drabble for my bestie :) smut underneath the cut!

Rough fingertips drag along stiff nipples, callouses hard against smooth skin. Skin that was free of scars unlike his own.

And the realization of how different they were seemed to settle on Arthur’s shoulders, a weight that began to feel heavier as the days passed. For he was an outlaw, living his life on the run, and a lowly cowpoke that had to kill and steal just to get by.

And well, she was far from that. She was but a lady that yearned for excitement from her dreary life as the daughter to one of the upscale men in town, and he supposed that she found her excitement by getting tangled up with the likes of him.

Tangled like their limbs, left in a sweaty mess with twitching bodies and stolen kisses between catching breaths.

It was a wonder that even with their differences that she fell for Arthur, that he fell for her. He reckoned it was hard not to. Because she was soft, tasting of peaches but far sweeter. Especially the nectar that he discovered between her legs.

Legs that were wrapped around his thick middle, ankles locked at his back with his cock rocking in and out of her gummy walls.

It was with open-mouthed kisses that he would worship the entirety that was her body. Heaving breasts and a nipple in his hot mouth, a squeeze of her cunt around his cock made him forget about life outside these hotel walls that were the only way they could enjoy each other's company. While they were different – him and her – those differences were wiped away with a single kiss.

A kiss to each other’s lips in a final goodbye: a semblance of their forbidden love as he wipes away the cum that slowly cools on her heated skin.

#arthur morgan #rdr #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x reader smut #rdr2 fanfic #implied smut #slight angst #body worship #rdr2 arthur #red dead redemption #rdr2 #red dead redemption two #requests are welcome #fluff #rdr2 smut

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sad-sweet-cowboah · 1 year

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Secrets of The Moon

Summary: As much as you'd like to try, you just couldn't escape the hungry predator in the night.

Warnings: This post contains CNC, aka consensual non-consent. If you have any issues or triggers associating, please do not read any further!!

Word Count: 2,771

A/N: So....this is something that has been brewing in the back of my mind for a while and debated on writing it, well I'm certainly glad I did. Hope you guys all enjoy!

Howling winds tore through the underbrush, stirring the leaves. Snaps of twigs and dried bracken echoed against the forest floor. Hooves like thunder provided a quick melody, filling your ears to match your racing heart.

Sweaty palms gripped the worn leather reins as you leaned forward like a jockey, urging your mare faster and faster the despite the difficulty navigating the barely lit forest path before you. Her mane whipped against your face as you squinted ahead, hoping the dense trees would allow proper cover. Your eyes watered, blurring any hope for a clear path.

You blinked and shook your head in a desperate attempt to see once again. The effort proved almost futile; yet somehow your trusty horse knew where to go. She galloped between the trees effortlessly, even startling you with a jump—enough to allow you to miraculously get your bearings.

It wasn’t until the hooves echoed loud, much louder than you anticipated—only to realize you were not alone.

Your heart plummeted. Digging your heels into your mare’s ribs, she leapt again, clearing what looked like a large fallen tree. A split second of silence encompassed you, followed by the snort of another steed, in the distance.

You didn’t dare glance behind you in fear of what you’d see, but you already knew.

Still, you wanted to escape. Even when that window was narrowing with each passing second and the forest becoming denser was forcing your horse to dodge and veer.

But by God’s grace, an opening manifested ahead. You steered toward it, hoping the straightaway would push more distance between you and your pursuer. Standing in the saddle and leaning almost completely against your horse’s outstretched neck, you could almost feel the moonlight on your skin.

You broke through the tree line into what appeared to be a field. Even when it allowed better vision for yourself, perhaps you could figure a way to—

“You ain’t runnin’ from me.”

That voice shook you to your core, echoing through your bones. You hissed out a swear and pleaded for your mare to go faster, even with the roaring beast giving it her all beneath you.

Within a few strides you’d reached halfway across the field, bathing in the silver moonlight lighting the forest like a beacon. All you had to do was disappear into the tree line for an advantage. The temptation of glancing behind you taunted you like a shadow, even though you knew your predator was hot on your heels.

A literal shadow chasing you through the night, following your frantic footsteps nearly in-sync. Your hopes to get away diminished more with each fleeting second.

Something passed over your gaze, and the next thing you knew, the splintering fibers of a rope tightened on your torso, ripping your hands from the reins. Your horse slowed immediately from the slack, and you wriggled helplessly in the saddle. One strong yank sent you tumbling off the side, the breath stolen from your lungs as you landed in the tall grass below.

While you gasped for air, the soft thud of worn boots traveled through the earth beneath you. Rowels clinked within their holdings, stepping oh so slowly until his unholy presence loomed over you.

Frantically, you flexed your arms in a last feeble attempt to escape, the twine of the rope digging painfully into your exposed flesh. It proved fruitless; gloved hands grabbed at your wrists, forcing them together behind your back.

“No!” You cried out, so desperately trying to free yourself from his grip. Your predator was unfortunately much stronger than you, and could easily snap you like a twig.

“Shut up,” he growled, your wrists bound tightly in his seemingly expert grasp.

That voice, so dangerously low and snarling like a grizzly bear. A man not to be trifled with, a man that’d sooner bury a bullet in your skull than ask why you had the gall to look at him the wrong way.

But if you were to die, you’d die fighting.

“Fuck you,” you shot over your shoulder, mustering any sort of venom in your voice despite your position.

From the corner of your eye, the man’s own beady eyes beneath the brim of his worn leather hat looked surprised.

“Fuck me?” He drawled, a grin splitting his face. “Now that ain’t polite, lil’ missy.”

“Fuck you!” You repeated, throwing your hips up in a feeble attempt to force yourself forward. Strong hands squeezed around your waist, dragging you back with what seemed like comically little effort.

A tsk-tsk was heard, along with a dark snicker. “You gave me a lotta trouble chasin’ ya down,” he leaned over, his hot breath ghosting across your ear. “I oughta fuck you.” his torso pressed against yours, the unmistakable strain beneath his jeans painfully apparent.

Your heart dropped, swinging your head back to give him a pleading look. “N-no!” you whined, every forethought of defiance leaving your system. “Just turn me in, please!”

The grin he still held was sickening. A cat cornering a frightened mouse, quickly extinguishing any hope of running freely before facing their bitter fate. His right hand left your waist to caress the curve of your hip, the gentle touch nearly betraying his rough exterior. It only lasted a split second before he grabbed a fistful of your skirt, yanking it down to reveal your drawers.

You squeezed your legs together as hard as you could, biting your lip to offer whatever resistance to prevent him from going further, even if it just meant for a few seconds. He didn’t like that, shoving his hands between your thighs and splitting them apart with ease, pushing them far enough to make you wince from the stretch.

He was not so kind to your underwear, tucking his fingers beneath the waistband and ripping them free, the poor fabric never standing a chance. The cool air hit your exposed bottom like a slap, showing you to the world above.

Your pursuer let out a breath of air behind him, no doubt selfishly enjoying the view. His fingers daringly intruded your slit, cold and thick and rough against your warm, velvet skin.

“Oh my,” he purred. “Seems like you’re enjoyin’ this.”

Your face burned. You wanted to deny it, wanted to shout another obscenity for even defiling you in such a manner, but your body betrayed you too well. Bucking your hips to free yourself only made his invasion much easier, his fingers easily welcomed into your soaked inner walls.

“You takin’ me that well already?” he chuckled, his other hand holding you still while he began to pump his digits in and out.

The sensation was oh-so delicious, your body trembled from the pleasure beginning to build, swiping away any higher thought of still attempting to escape this dangerous man. A moan bubbled in your throat, but you managed to staunch it before it passed your teeth. What were you doing?

“You like that, ya dirty whore?”

You kept silent.

A swift smack on your ass made you cry out, the fresh sting making you wince.

“Answer my question,” he growled, “Do ya like that, ya dirty whore?”

You swallowed, closing your eyes in shame and burying your face into the grass. Finally, you uttered a soft, “...yes.”

The hand holding you left its place to find your jaw, wrenching your head to force you to look at him. “I can’t hear you, girl.”

His fingers began to curl, dragging against a particular sensitive spot that forced out an involuntary moan. “Y-yes!” you mewled. “Yes, I like it!”

The look of satisfaction almost made you want to slap him in the face if you weren’t bound right now.

“That’s what I thought,” he chuckled again, releasing your jaw to smack your ass again.

You hissed in response, and quickly forgot about the pain the faster he went. Another moan escaped your throat, your hips quivering for more. The absolute ravage he bestowed upon you had you forgetting about the hunt, the chase, whittling down to the pure animalistic instinct.

Your body was beyond harmonizing with your mind anymore, instead hurtling toward that blissful sensation dawning upon you with a rush of warmth deep in your belly. It was a losing battle; giving in to your dark, twisted desire. It coiled in your guts like a constricting snake, pulling you the precipice—

The implosion was immense, erupting, spilling like hot lava throughout your nether regions. Your body tensed and shuddered, heart pounding wildly inside your ribcage. The sound you uttered would put a harlot to shame, singing only to the wilderness around you.

“God damn,”

The lewd slick of his fingers exiting your soaked entrance suddenly made you feel empty. Muscle spasms began to ease with the wane of your climax, leaving you both satisfied and utterly ashamed.

A muted thud of something heavy hitting the ground pulled you from your quick bliss. Turning your head, the handle of his six-shooter gleamed in its holster, which now sat in the grass along along with the rest of his gun belt.

He himself was already unbuttoning his jeans in haste. The bulge straining against the black denim finally released, revealing—

Oh, lord.

Your eyes widened in shock. He was certainly girthy; veins spidering along the length, tracing to the bulbous red tip, a pearl of pre-cum illuminated in the silvery moonbeam. “No…please,” you pleaded, mustering every effort to appease his merciful side, if that even existed. “Please don’t take me like this!”

The chuckle that passed his smirking lips was all that told you your attempt was wasted. “Don’t think so, y’ little whore,” he grabbed your hips again, yanking you back to feel him prod your soaked lower lips. “Seems like you’re more than ready for me.”

Before you could answer, he plunged himself in, your body giving no resistance. You winced initially, your walls stretching almost uncomfortably to accommodate his width, filling you to the brim.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice nearly stuttering. “So damn tight...”

You were once again robbed of a chance to respond before he pulled back and slammed his hips forward, sending forth a wave of absolute knee-trembling ecstasy. He soon picked up a rhythm as rough as his personality, driving himself deep with abandon.

The force was driving air out of your lungs, your breathless gasps the only sound you were able to form. There was no hope; the remaining speckle diminishing the moment he invaded your body. He chased you down, defiled you, humiliated you with your own pleasure. Any sane woman would plead for an end.

But you were at his complete mercy, even at your state of helplessness, you could not be more aroused. The way he thrusted, drawing out every inch of pure carnal desire once locked away.

You moaned lewdly, closing your eyes and letting that same desire take over, a second climax soon on the rise. You hadn’t realized one of his hands moved until it snaked into your hair, knotting his fingers in it and yanking your head back. Your eyes flew open to stare at the night sky above.

“C’mon now, you gotta be louder than that,” he hissed to you. “Don’t be shy.”

And shy you were not. With a gulp of the cool air you made it known to the stars and heavens, surely carrying into the snowy peaks of Ambarino. Some small part of you was thankful you were away from any form of civilization.

“That’s a good girl,”

Those words. That hoarse, low voice, thick with sex and passion. The praise settled like hot coffee in your belly, warming and igniting and stirring, hurtling you toward another—

It crashed upon you at an instant, a blast of energy bringing forth the intensity of the heated sun during midday of New Austin, rocking your entire body so hard that you would have melted into the Earth itself. The forest and its inhabitants were no stranger to your voice now, unashamedly announcing every bit of pure erotic, animalistic desire.

Any minimal control you had over your body had been lost to the reaches of your orgasm, its ribbons allowing only a slow release. Recovery wasn’t an option as a finger immediately located the nub of sensitive flesh between your folds. Tears sprung to your eyes as the overstimulation hit, and you pleaded for an end.

He was persistent. Evil, even. Your cries fell upon deaf ears the way he played you like an old fiddle. You writhed in his grasp vainly for an escape, only for your tresses to be released and you suddenly pinned down by his free hand without a break in his rhythm. “I know you got another in ya,” he huffed, leaning down so closely you could feel his breath again. “Show me.”

Jesus, when will this torture end?

Did you even want it to end?

No.

As much as you wanted to escape his touch, your body had other plans. Your third peak swallowed you whole, encapsulating you and filling your veins with fire. Your lungs weakly expelled a noise, having no chance of recovery from the previous.

“That’s it,” he praised in that same tone, finally allowing you to recover despite still pile-driving you. His hand returned to its previous place on your hip, pulling you back and closer. With your legs now folded beneath your torso, the new angle was heavenly.

His breath shuddered, his voice strained. He was close. The walls around this dangerous, tough man began to fall with the ascent to his own finish. All you could do was lay there, the muscles in your arms flexing helplessly, still tightly bound behind your back. The fibrous grass and gritty earth were rough against your face.

The need for him to fill you up was desperate, a burning desire to hold every drop of his spend. The minuscule sanity you had left ought to be utterly disgusted, but at that moment, you couldn’t care less.

“Arthur,” you gasped out his name, finally breaking from the character you’d so meticulously held together. You turned your head to look him in the eye. “F-fill me up, please!”

Something snapped in the outlaw, the grunt he unleashed oddly vulnerable, negating the abrasive exterior he’d presented himself with. With one deep shove, his head jolted back towards the sky, appearing almost wolfish with the way he called out his peak.

His hips stuttered against yours weakly, and then the air stilled. The roaring pounding of your heart finally subsided, and the melodic sounds of nature resumed around the two of you.

Arthur slid out of you, the emptiness followed with a rush of hot fluid dripping from your abused entrance. You sighed at the feeling, resting your head against the ground.

His eyes, no longer holding a glint of danger, softened as he gazed upon you. A small smile warmed his chiseled features.. “You okay?” he asked quietly. “I didn’t hurt ya, darlin’?”

“No, not at all,” you assured him, although you were certain to be plagued with soreness in the morning, especially from being pulled off your horse. The sting of the rope on your wrists made itself known on your wrists as you failed to sit up.

Arthur didn’t hesitate, reaching for his knife from the fallen gun belt and made quick work of releasing you. As soon as you were on your knees, his fingers ran down your arm, undoubtedly observing any potential wounds. Your eyes followed his and noted just some red markings and nothing more.

You smiled, reaching to wrap your arms around his neck. “How’d I do?” you simply asked.

“Amazin’,” he responded with a lopsided grin. “Real convincin’. Good thing it’s jus’ us two out here, or else I’m sure someone woulda come runnin’.”

You hummed in response, satisfied with his answer. “Glad I can please, Mr. Morgan,” you were glad he’d agreed to this initially. At first he was hesitant, understandably so as not to harm you. But after much convincing, he eventually relented.

Maybe now this would become a regular occurrence, if he enjoyed it well enough. “Did you like it?”

The grin he sported turned hungry. He placed his hands at your hips and pulled you flush, seating you on his still naked lap. “Ain’t gonna deny, I loved seein’ ya all tied up n’ helpless...” his lips trailed along your jawline to your lips, kissing you tenderly for a moment before pulling back slightly. “Beggin’ for me to fill ya up, that’s somethin’ else.”

Oh yes, it would be something to look forward to.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader smut

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elixolo · 6 months

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I swear some ppl make such disturbing Arthur Morgan x reader smuts that it stops u from reading

#Arthur Morgan x reader smut #red dead redemption 2

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mysadcorner · 4 months

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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

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cowboyfromh3ll · 5 months

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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

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead redemption 2 x reader #red dead redemption community #writing #red dead fanfiction #van der linde gang x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #Arthur morgan smut #Arthur Morgan x reader smut #arthur morgan hc #Arthur Morgan headcannons

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photo1030 · 8 months

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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.

Tag List: @rivetingrosie4 @bimbo-dollz @pine4pple-b0i @redwritr @kuri-chans-blog @queer-sadie-adler @joelmillerswifey @gimmethosedaddymilkers @pcotarelo @delilah-grimes @maemortem @wistfulwisteriawitch @lilacxxdreams @mentallyillfrogs @absolutegeek @spurz @sophiaj650 @uniqueclodzinevoid @lookingformaurice @pawoui @randomidk-123 @yyiikes @eddiemetalheadmunson @twola @kmartkiddieisle @red-dead-simp @regwishesshehadmagic @rhehr241 @earwen-x @akariver75 @djennty @nervousmumbling @xliliths @unbotheredbeeeee @onnetonprinsessa @kittiowolf210 @ezrynn @suhiss @arthurmargon @codnerd1999 @queer-sadie-adler @alice-vanderlinde @sweetandstoned21 @j4llyf7sh @spooky631 @m0r4rx @ilovrxats @i-69-urmom @ddbluesie @ivuravix @nervousmumbling @sickvictorianangel @tirededuxhours @ezzythereal1 @chloepluto1306 @ivys-valentine @spiritcatcherxo

*I tagged people who expressed interest in the continued story. If you’d like to be added or removed, please let me know. There are a few that would not let me link, so I apologize if this doesn’t ping some people.

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.

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x f!reader #arthur morgan x reader smut #rdr2 fanfic

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disappointed-ghost · 2 years

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The very lucky/unlucky moment during D&D when everyone has to reroll initiative because they keep getting the same number as another person, now you're equally nine rolls in and you're coughing up a lung because of how much you're laughing

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sky-is-the-limit · 4 months

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𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢, 𝚍𝚘𝚐𝚐𝚢, 𝚌𝚘𝚠𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕, 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚙𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚠𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕, 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚍𝚘𝚐𝚐𝚢, 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢, 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚘𝚗, 𝚕𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚑𝚘𝚐, 𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚘, 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚘𝚐𝚐𝚢, 𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚍, 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚕𝚎, 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛, 𝚕𝚘𝚝𝚞𝚜, 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚕𝚢, 𝚋𝚞𝚕𝚕, 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛, 𝚙𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚞𝚜𝚑, 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚘𝚙, 𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚎, 𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚌𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚜, 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚛𝚞𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚡 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚝, 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚐 𝚞𝚙, 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚜 𝚞𝚙, 𝚞𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗, 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚍, 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚛, 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎, 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚗, 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑, 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎, 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝, 𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚎.

(gif cred: @itspapillonnoir)

#I'm legit losing it. The things I would do for this man? The things I would do to that man?!?!?!#I'd have him stretch it so wide that he could take a dive in it. It's pulsing his name in morse code at this point.#need his dick so fucking far up inside that my bellybutton would start to worry #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 smut #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x reader

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stoutpancakes · 4 months

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staring: arthur morgan x reader

warnings: implied smut, afab!reader, mdni 18+

back in my rdr2 era everyone. this was for a friend :)

“Does it make y’nervous when I stare?”

Arthur’s voice is low and gravelly as his rough fingers pause their path downwards against her much softer body. Callouses catch on the material of her corset, but he doesn’t mind. On the contrary, it only spurred him on to rid her of the undergarments even more. She shakes her head in response to his question, but that only gets a guttural hum in response.

“Then why d’ya get so shy when I do it? Or when I do this…”

Thick fingers drag along the skin of her arms, causing goosebumps to rise in their wake despite the heat that’s built up in the shared space. Not a comprehensive word falls from her bitten lips as he continues his ministrations: stroking and caressing every bit of skin that was available or even it wasn’t, her still being covered by her undergarments that were suddenly too hot.

All the while, he gazed at her with those eyes of his. Sky-blue eyes with flecks of gold decorating the cornea around a black pupil. Eyes that have seen blood, betrayal, and death, but were gazing at her like she had hung the moon and the stars. And Arthur wasn’t a religious man by any means, but to him she was an angel in disguise.

Perhaps that was why he stared, committing her imagine to memory to only turn to the light his lamp when the intimacy had ended and he had returned to his own tent, to draw her in his journal solely by memory.

Because he would continue to stare as she came undone from his fingers alone. Toe curling, back arching pleasure with a sheen of sweat across her soft skin that never ceased to amaze him. And Arthur would play it back in his memory courtesy of the way he stares.

#arthur morgan #rdr #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x reader smut #rdr2 fanfic #implied smut #fluff #don't judge me pls #rdr2 arthur #red dead redemption #rdr2 #red dead redemption two

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serawritesthings · 4 months

Note

hi! Sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language. I don't know if you're accepting requests, if you not, just ignore. But I'm wondering how you would write something related to a jealous Arthur Morgan, high honor of course (with smut or without smut sincerely you know what looks best). the way you write is addictive and passionate, i believe anything you write from this would be great.

OUR DEAR, GREEN LITTLE FRIEND

Pairing | Arthur Morgan x Fem! Reader Summary | Oh, jealousy. When the thought of you straying too close to the comfort of Charles, the green monster claws its way into Arthur's head. Tags | sexual content 18+ minors dni, tiny bit of angst, description of violence and wounds, fluffy at times, smut Word Count | 10k A/N | Hi everyone! I just HAD to write this request, hope you like it! Also, thank you dearly anon♡

While many found the biting cold of the climate north of West Grizzlies to be bitter–sharp air seeping into your very bones–you saw it oddly liberating despite the current predicament. The circumstance was dire, indeed, and you pondered many times if this would finally be the end for all of you, thinking of the incredible luck you had managed to have so far. Fate, or an astonishingly fascinating knowledge on how to escape the grappling arms of the law with a suspicious amount of people trashing through the roads in utter, sheer panic.

Glancing around you as you huddled closer to the fire, hands rubbing furiously against the wool of your gloves to gain even the slightest warmth to your biting fingers, you were met with the flushed cheeks of your comrades. The skin that now glistened from the melting snowflakes was caressed by the warm, orange glow from the flames lighting up the small hut you had taken residence in.

The road leading to here had been long, and the time spent in the wagon that did nothing to shield you from the penetrating wind that howled into the night, your thoughts had been entirely focused on the man who now lay dead a few meters away, tucked in some fabric to shield the paling flesh of a corpse. While the thought might not make you uncomfortable, it did its thing on the others who looked weary at the covered man.

You had done your best to tend to him amidst the severe trembling of your fingers and numbness spreading through you the longer you rode in the worrying storm, finding his blood still staining the cotton of your gloves–a reminder that you had done what you could to help the poor fellow. Despite not knowing him well enough to shed a tear, death was still a death, and a slight melancholy set its claw in all of you as you tried to regain some warmth.

“Stupid man.” Glancing beside you, you took notice of the dark-haired woman muttering angrily as she held a sleeping Jack close to her body.

“What’s wrong?” You inquired quietly, curious of her obvious disdain.

“John Marston is what’s wrong.” Blazing heatedly into the fire, you could almost see the depths of hell through her furious eyes. “He didn’t come back with the rest.” Shifting her eyes to yours for a quick moment that, although short, showed the worry hidden beneath her anger.

Nodding slowly as you leaned against her slightly in comfort, you realized you hadn’t taken notice of the man’s absence until now. Returning with empty hands and another mouth to feed had instead been the case, no Marston as far as the eyes could see as he probably whirred around in the blizzard somewhere.

“Do you think he…” As you spoke, you trailed off, growing unsure of your words while realizing your comments might be prodded into a sensitive subject.

“No.” Firmly, she sniveled harshly, shaking her head in protest. “No, he wouldn’t leave again.” Although her words were sure, you still felt a lingering doubt cloud your mind, remembering being told of his earlier departure from the gang that caused more scars in their relationships than good–not that it wasn’t faulty from the very start.

As you were about to let your prying win against your common sense, you were interrupted by the door being audibly slammed open, the noisy winds from outside growing louder as snowflakes whirled inside. Walking inside was the prominent figure of Charles, nodding respectfully to its residents as the door shut behind him, once more letting the warmth settle.

“Folks.” He mumbled quietly, treading through everyone huddling by the fire as he glanced curiously at the new woman before settling beside you. You glanced up at him, taking in his snow-covered self before lingering on his hand that rested motionless on his legs, bandages visible under his gloves.

“It’s not too bad; the cold seems to numb the pain.” A slight smile graced your lips at his observance, finding it unique to the man to be so tentative to everyone around him. Letting out a small laugh, you reach to remove your gloves before taking his hand in yours so you could lay it in your lap, unwrapping the bandages to examine the burns covering his skin.

You had given it a quick look-over before you had to tend to Davey, doing the best you could to ease his pain you were sure would be unavoidable. Although the sight was quite gruesome, it didn’t look as bad as you had expected.

“You’re stronger than me, that’s for sure. I would be a crying mess if I burned my hand like that.” Your voice was gentle as you started to rewrap the fabric around his hand, finding it increasingly irritating you didn’t have the tools you usually did that would indeed do a fine job at lessening his pain.

You had managed to gain a slight smile from the otherwise aloof man, probably finding your words humorous. “Let’s hope it’ll never come to that.”

Sharing a look, you heard the door open once again, the irritated voice of Uncle damning whoever was letting in the cold for the second time. Both you and Charles laughed slightly, and as you looked up, you were faced with a pair of squinting, blue eyes, the icy cold from the outside seemingly enhancing their sharpness although making a welcomed warmth spread through you as they gazed over you in a quick motion–departing to look at the hand that rested in your lap.

“A sad loss, folks,” Hosea stated as he stepped onto the wooden planks, speaking out loudly in the otherwise calm hut, groaning as he helped Arthur lift Davey’s lifeless body, limp like a ragdoll.

Glancing subtly, you observed him as Arthur’s bulky form lifted easily, unlike Hosea, admiring how he made it seem so effortless. The others called him the camps workhorse, and you didn’t fail to see why, keeping your eyes firm on the man as he carried him towards the door.

He shrouded you in uncertainty; he did, and you weren’t sure how to behave in his bold presence. You often felt like a goody two shoes, and even though you weren’t the perfect picture of a law-abiding citizen, you could honestly say you were a wimp compared to Arthur.

You should be embarrassed, you really should, but there was something in his eyes– something that made your heart race. Utterly shameless, yet desperate to lock gazes again despite contradicting yourself and avoiding them every chance you could. Before you could get caught this time, you directed your eyes, focusing on tightening the bandages so they wouldn’t come loose.

“Try to be careful, will you, Charles?” You spoke quietly while patting his hand, motioning that he was all set to go, but his hand stayed, giving you a grateful look.

“Thank you.” His soothing voice was hushed as the loud bang of the door slammed shut not long after, ridding you of the tumult after their departure.

–

Oh, it burned. It burned so deep in his loins that it felt like he would erupt into flames any second. Despite the cold surrounding him, he was sure it could be possible the more he was left with his thoughts. The hushed whispers, the soft touches, and the ever-so-gentle look in your eyes made him want to empty the little food in his stomach.

“Sneaky little rat,” Arthur grumbled to himself as he shoveled his way through the deep layers of snow. Here he was, out in the cold, tortured by the howling winds of the snowstorm, while Charles remained inside the warmth of the hut, seated next to you, all because of a slight burn.

He knew what he was up to–what any man would do if it meant getting your attention–and he wasn’t humored. Taking advantage of your good nature was downright uncalled for, bordering on immoral, which Arthur would probably realize wasn’t Charles’s character if his mind didn’t seek to find faults with the man the more his blood boiled.

He scoffed to himself, stabbing the ground maliciously, imagining your warm hands around his instead, the nimble fingers of yours tending to him as you moved in closer, your sweet smell reaching his nose as you gazed up at him, face blushed from the cold with lips begging him to warm them up with his. The thought did nothing more than cover his whole body in shivers, only to be reminded that it wasn’t him that received that attention from you.

“What are you huffing about over there, Arthur?!” Hosea’s strained voice attempted to shout over the loud winds, standing up to rest momentarily.

“Why don’t we just bury him when the storm has settled?!” Annoyance was apparent in his voice, the green jealous monster still wreaking havoc in his mind.

“I told you, the snow will be too heavy tomorrow, so we need to finish it while we still can!” He groaned, starting to shovel once more. “And I’ll be damned, we are going to give Davey a proper burial. He deserves that much!”

As Hosea blabbered on about justice and other forms of respect Arthur had no intent on listening to, he zoned out, feeling sorry for himself as he imagined you might be keeping close to Charles right this moment, warming yourself to his body in a desperate search of bodily heat. Rubbing the melted snow off his face, Arthur damned the heavens above for making him the unluckiest bastard in the West.

Despite Arthur seeming dead set on you being lovey-dovey with a man you barely knew, Charles had left you after making some small talk, mentioning that he would try and get some well-deserved rest after the tumultuous past few days. Many others did as well, attempting to ease their minds from the constant threat against their back amidst the terrible cold.

Although, as days passed and John being back rid you of Abigail’s constant muttering, the cold only seemed to take its toll on you, unlike the others who quickly got used to the environment. Furthermore, the days only seem to get longer up in the mountains, and you wondered obsessively when you would get the chance to leave–damning everyone who thought seeking out Colm O’Driscoll in your compromised state a good idea instead of moving forwards.

Despite your dismay, you put yourself to use like the others, preparing to help Pearson in the grim act of cutting through the poor deer that had been brought back. While the sight gladdened you, knowing you would finally get a meal in your stomach, the brooding aura of a chestnut-haired, blue-coated man seemed to rain over you endlessly.

What could you have done to gain his stinging glare? It was almost cutting through you entirely from the burning that resided deep in his eyes, watching you ferociously, making your hair stand on edge. When he had returned with Charles, it had been nothing short of unpleasant ever since, although thankfully–despite his glare–his harsh words were directed towards Pearson instead of you, which you were glad for.

“How’s the cold treating you?” Glancing away from the two men bickering, you laughed slightly at Charles’s innuendo, dressed worse for wear as you pulled the thick, woolen scarf tighter around your neck, hugging yourself to keep warm.

“Could be worse, I guess,” you said, clouds like smoke surrounding you as you talked.

“I suppose. Still, I don’t want you freezing your fingers off.”

“Mhh,” you nodded thoughtfully, speaking up after silence. “Who would look after your hand if that happened?”

He chuckled heartily at your unsuspected joke, and you glanced up at him bashfully, a light smile covering your face at his apparent amusement. While your embarrassment of being so easily swayed by the cold, it felt nice having someone take notice of your obvious discomfort, even though you would say you were pretty good at keeping it to yourself. You couldn’t be surprised, though, well aware you and Charles were both tentative to your surroundings, always knowing but rarely telling.

“Here.” Taking off the large gloves covering his hand, no doubt doing an excellent job keeping him warm, he grabbed your trembling hands in his, rubbing them between his pleasant temperature hand and bandage-covered skin before gliding the fabric over yours.

“No, Charl-” you protested, trying to stop him from continuing.

“They’ll do you more good than me, I promise. They’re just in the way.” Stubbornly, he planted your hands back into your lap, petting them like you had done to him some nights ago before raising with a huff.

“Thanks for the help, Arthur.” Charles nodded at the now grumpy man observing him as he rested against the wood of the wooden wall with arms crossed, seemingly ignoring Mr. Pearson’s lecture about the navy he felt so strongly about, only providing a quick tilt of his hat before heated eyes were set on you.

Your gaze faltered, the blush on your face from the cold only intensifying the spread of warmth you felt from gaining his profound stare–something you rarely took notice of. It wasn’t that he didn’t look at you; he probably looked too much at times, but he was never so ardent with it, scrutinizing you under their heavy weight–making you feel ten times smaller under his towering height.

“Well, why don’t you skin the deer, Arthur? I’ll help you cut them up in a while, miss.” Mr. Pearson’s words were hasty, and you didn’t miss the bottle glistening under the sunlight as he tried hiding it behind his coat, scurrying away. He would, in fact, not be back; you were sure of that much.

It wasn’t often you found yourself alone with Arthur, and you never strayed too close, finding his presence somewhat daunting. Not that you’ve had many chances to speak amidst all the chaos surrounding you, and being relatively new to the gang meant the trust lacked significantly from both sides. But, the intrigue was always present in every glance and movement.

You felt his gaze fixed on you a moment longer as you stared heedlessly at your hands, rubbing them together anxiously, having no clue what to do with yourself. While you weren’t one to speak the ears of others, you never had any problem socializing with those around you–but Arthur, he was something else entirely. Finally, though, he moved, approaching the hanging carcass.

“How are ya?” His sudden words surprised you, hanging awkwardly in the air.

“Oh, um. Good?” You cringed at yourself, finding the words stuck in your throat as his voice rumbling was loud and confident.

“Cold?”

“A bit,” you said softly, staring at his back as he heaved the skin away from the animal, movements rigid and harsh. “Charles gave me his gloves, so it’s a little less chilly now.” You stumbled over your words, admiring his strength unabashedly as he hauled the skinned deer over his shoulder, slamming it down the table with a loud bang. He gave you no answer, instead bringing out the knife in his belt to do the job you were assigned to.

“Oh, let me!” Standing abruptly from your seat, you stepped towards him hurriedly in shame, feeling like you were just lazying around while Arthur was doing all the hard work.

Grabbing his thick coat to let you take his position, you found him staying right where he was, looking down at you when your hand rested on his bicep. It was unusual for him to be so close, and a blush warmed your cheeks as his towering frame became more apparent when standing a short distance from one another.

“S’alright.” He spoke lowly. “I’ve got it.”

Your breath got caught in your throat as he gazed wholly at you, letting you know he had no problem with helping you. It warmed you, finding his action kind–just like the small acts of kindness he reserved for the other girls. You would sometimes glare after them, intensely jealous that Arthur seemed to have a soft spot for them, yet acting like you didn’t exist.

“Anything else I can do to help since you just did my job for me?” A shy smile found you, peering up at him as he sniveled, glancing at you while you sat on the bench again.

“Well, you’ve already done your charity work for the day, so you’re fine.”

“Charity work?” You wondered, staring at him curiously as he cut through the meat. “What do you mean?”

He only sighed heavily, like you should be able to understand his cryptic words.

“He won’t die from a small burn; it ain’t enough reason to coddle the man like a child,” he grumbled.

It took you a while to get the gears turning, but when you did, you felt yourself grow shy from his statement. “Charles? His hand isn’t looking too good…”

“Yeah? Well, you shouldn’t be so forward. You’ll give the poor man false hope.” He scoffed, stabbing the poor carcass harshly.

Staring at his back in disbelief at the sudden hatred, you had trouble understanding where it came from and why he suddenly grew so invested in whom you diverted your attention. You and Arthur rarely spoke, only changing quick words occasionally ever since you found yourself staying with the gang, and for that reason, you had failed to understand the reason for his hatred.

It seems all you ever did was look after everyone else, paying attention to their various troubles and tribulations regarding bodily harm. It wasn’t strange to you, and by no means did you give anyone false hope, merely trying to find your place with these people, an attempt to prove your usefulness.

“False hope?” You questioned, baffled. “I’m trying to help; I fail to understand how that is a problem.”

“It ain’t a problem!” He grumbled, voice roaring hotly in his chest as he resheathed his knife and began to make his way out, repositioning his hat without glancing at you. You followed him, stopping short by the table as you didn’t want to stray too close to the fuming man.

“Well, it is since you are so angry about it?!” If this was how he carried out every conversation, you were glad the exchange of words wasn’t typical between you, more so the simple fact that your company had never seemed to bring him any enjoyment. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Wha-” He stops short, suddenly turning around and stalking towards you in significant strides. Gasping at suddenly having him so close, you backed away; his sharp eyes penetrated you as the warm blue of his orbs turned ice cold, glaring daggers into your own.

“What’s wrong with me?” He spoke dangerously low as his brows raised, grabbing your upper arms as he hoisted you up the table without an ounce of struggle. “I’m not the one taking every small, insignificant chance to take advantage of your good nature.”

“Charles’s not like that. He’s very kind.” You spoke in his defense, leaning back from his prolonged stare that seemed to cut through you deeper the more he stared. You had always pitied the people who got on Arthur’s lousy side, finding his presence at those times unnerving.

Now, it seemed you were at the receiving end of it, and while it chilled you to the bones, you weren’t sure if your beating heart were because of fear or the thought of him being the closest to you he’d ever have.

You had never quite got to admire his eyes, always hidden under his furrowed brows and squinting eyes. Now that it wasn’t because of the blazing sun down west, it was from the blaring whiteness of the snow surrounding you as you found his eyes glaring at the current climate more often than not–displeased.

His eyes being dead set on you didn’t help as you could hear his breathing grow heavier, the warmth of his breath hitting your cold cheeks as his broad frame blocked the chilly winds from reaching you.

“Kind, huh?” Although momentarily distracted, you recovered as you heard him speak in a low voice, still finding his assumptions wildly out of reach while insulting you and Charles. Times were hard, and if you couldn’t look after one another, it would surely lead to your doom–Arthur, if anyone, should know that.

“Yes, kind.”

Rubbing his eyes with one hand, he backed away from you, shrugging his shoulders while walking away–like your conversation hadn’t happened in the first place.

“Sure.”

–

It wasn’t like Arthur didn’t know how to restrain himself, for he applauded himself for avoiding his apparent anger when Charles had, yet again, stolen away your attention–not that Arthur had any plans on striking up a conversation with you anyway.

It became clear to him that when you two were left alone, you almost turned into a living statue, barely responding to him. It was unlike you, for the time he had spent observing you, you had no problem talking to anyone else–and although it was usually calm, it never deterred you from gaining the likes of the others and liking them in return.

Why did you cringe away from him and not Charles, he pondered, glaring at the picture that plagued his mind. The reason he knew, deep down, but his stubbornness didn’t let him justify your actions. In all honesty, Charles was a more reliable man than himself, intentions often apparent with a slight sense of, well, goodness perhaps—something Arthur didn’t possess in the slightest.

Goodness, in all honesty, wasn’t something he was too familiar with, and he didn’t doubt one second that you found his character to be callous, seeing as the dirty work no one wanted to do fell upon him; work everyone else found to be too cruel to do themselves. He could almost feel your disapproving gaze when he picked up his slack from Mr. Strauss’s poor victims that he always tried to prolong, and while it wasn’t his most favorable way of lending a hand, sometimes he did it out of spite.

If that’s what you thought about him, then he couldn’t do much to sway your opinion, finding it much easier to continue with his ways than realize that your sudden carefulness off him wounded him more profoundly than he let on.

And, he was indeed a harsh man in your eyes, and although his company wasn’t entirely unwished for, he was still grim–ignoring your presence like you weren’t there most of the time. It made you wildly unsure of him, but the allure he had kept bringing you back, always wondering when you would see a glimpse of him again. You chastised yourself for it, more so now that you got a taste of his famously sullen mood that pestered everyone around him, but your eyes were still drawn to him when he was nearby.

Maybe it wasn’t what everyone else would describe him as, but you thought of him as mysterious. Gods, you have stayed with this group for quite some time now. Not once had he spoken to you more than the standard greeting, and you didn’t know much about him besides the sharp-shooting, brutal force of a man who had no problem letting his thoughts be voiced, even though the listeners might be less inclined to its harsh deliverance.

He had been cruel, sure, but you couldn’t help but remember how close you had been before when he spewed words that clung so viciously from his tongue. Faintly, you remembered the deep scent of gunpowder and smoke, something you were certain probably penetrated his skin by now, but also the slightly musky scent hidden underneath. Your head raced in curiosity, wondering how his hands would grab you if it wasn’t in anger. Was he even capable of that, you pondered.

It’s ridiculous you knew those thoughts were born from misconceptions and assumptions. You had heard how he behaved amongst the camp women, forever gentle and careful, and you had sharpened your ear when you’d been told timidly about his earlier flings. He could be more heartfelt than your head let you acknowledge, and the thought made your head spin even more with your endless imagination.

Despite the inner turmoil that filled you from your earlier argument, you had avoided him for some days now, and it seemed to grow easier the colder you got, huddling close to the fire with every chance. It was the only thing keeping your thoughts occupied, wondering when you would get to leave this desolated mining town that grew more covered in snow the longer you chose to stay.

“Do you need help, Hosea?” Just after you spoke, heavy blankets were handed to you, the fabric made from a thick wool that looked heavenly. “Yes, thank you. I take one step outside; I fear that it will be the end of me.” You only stared warmly at Hosea, who patted you on the back. “Don’t you worry, miss. We found more blankets we thought had been lost in that dreadful storm, so we all will sleep warmer tonight.”

“Oh, of course, I’ll help-” Despite the whistling winds that had picked up as the sun shone its last tendrils, you didn’t oppose the idea, but you were interrupted by a mischievous look handed to you by the older man.

“Make sure Arthur grabs one, too; you know how he gets.” Before you could question his meaning, he slunk away, pulling the warm fabric tighter around his shoulders without a glance at you, chuckling merrily. You chose not to ponder too hard on his strange ways, instead making your way to the door, shivering badly as you stepped outside.

Smiles were all you were greeted with as you handed them off, and it was no surprise as it was a welcome sight to everyone to gain some extra warmth to wrap around themselves. Although feeling content by being of help, you couldn’t help but wonder where Arthur could be, a single blanket now left in your hands.

Grumbling to yourself, you stepped out from the hut Dutch and Molly resided in, glancing at a smaller building some paces away, finding the orange glow of a candle lighting up the smaller barn where the horses were kept. A small smile found you, finding it very fitting for him to be where there were fewer people.

Although slightly fearing what could come to be an awkward encounter, you found yourself being too forgiving many times, and you damned yourself for it. What he said hurt you deeply, making you ponder if you had given Charles other signals than intended. It could be a possibility, yet you had never had too many romantic dealings with men to presume that that was the case, but his eyes held something tender the last few times you spoke as you recalled it.

“Arthur…” As you stepped inside after pulsing through the thick snow, you searched for the blue coat you had grown familiar with in this weather. “Are you here?” You asked quietly, wondering if he could hear you.

You cautiously stepped further into the barn, placing your feet steadily on the ground before you so you didn’t slip and embarrass yourself. It was friendly out here, you could admit, the snow muting every sound and almost making every slight sound caress your ears.

As you stepped further inside, it turned out he was here, and he took no notice of you as you rounded the corner to gaze at his seated form, seemingly writing something in his journal. It was an unusual sight. Sometimes, you observed him as he wrote in his journal back at camp, yet you didn’t make a habit of it, too shy to question him at the time.

How he didn’t freeze to death in this climate was beyond you, his fingers bare as he scribbled, fingertips red from the cold and dirty from the chalk. You made a motion to speak up once again but found yourself tongue-tied as you took him in, and as you did, the thought struck you that he wasn’t writing but drawing.

How unlike him, you thought, watching his brows furrowed from time to time, fingers moving expertly while the soft glow of the candle beside him almost softened his features. Your presumptions might be harsh, but you had never found him to be a man well-versed in the creative aspect of life, and while the brutal ways of his life spoke for him, you found it to make him slightly more approachable.

“I didn’t know you draw.” You stated fondly, his eyes fitting into yours the moment the first word left your mouth, growing visibly stressed as the journal was planted into his coat pocket. A rough cough left him as he did, eyes faltering when he saw your observant gaze linger on him unabashedly.

“I don’t.” A small laugh left you at his abrupt words, not teasingly but perhaps warmly, choosing not to bug him since he grew uncomfortable before your questioning eyes.

You were given an expectant look that reminded you of your actual business here as you stepped inside the building, closing the barn door behind you to shut out the wind that somehow managed to find its way through the cracks in the walls.

“Here, we found some more blankets. Hosea asked me to bring you one.” You met his eyes briefly as you stretched out your arms for him to take the blanket, eyes faltering to it at his piercing gaze.

“Hosea, huh?” A scoff left him, resuming his arms to cross over his chest, shaking his head slightly. “You keep it.”

“No, I-”

“Nah, you chattering your teeth keeps us up at night. Take it.”

His words should have taken you back since his voice was stinging, but a light laugh left you, knowing he was right. Wrapping yourself in the soft, warm blanket, you surprised Arthur by sitting beside him, heavily clad shoulders touching each other as you did.

“I don’t understand.” You stated, staring at the large shadows that flickered on the wooden wall before you. “How can you not be cold? I feel like if I spend one more day out here, I’ll freeze to death.”

You turned your head towards him, caught off guard when you felt his gaze already set intensely on you. Your eyes faltered to his chest, growing shy as you always did when you had his attention on you. It wasn’t unwanted, but you didn’t know what to do with yourself in moments like that, unused to the fire that always burned so deep in his eyes.

“Used to it, I guess.” His voice rumbled hotly in his chest, fingers flexing against his will as he took the chance to observe you. He had never had the opportunity to see your face this close. Your wet lashes clung together as you blinked, undoubtedly from the heavy snowfall outside, framing your eyes that Arthur always noticed were so very easy to read, yet at many moments also locked away.

“I don’t believe you.” How could anyone possibly get used to this? It was raw, pure torture.

You didn’t get an answer, and as you returned your gaze towards the wall, Arthur’s eyes found your features again. He had indeed been cold before you came, but it was his only chance to find a moment of peace; the thought of spending another night in that god-forsaken hut with his dear friend and his lover giggling the night away grew incredibly distasteful.

Here, he could finally hear his thoughts, the solitude of the snow muting every sound heavenly; the only noise was the familiar scribbling in his journal as he wrote about the past few days. Though his head was calmer than before, he still dreamt of your fingers encasing his like they had done Charles, the small, elegant touches rising his arms slowly, making him shiver wildly as the scene flashed before his eyes.

He knew he shouldn’t think of you like that, and he certainly had no right to be angry at Charles since he felt so unabashedly filthy things about you, but he couldn’t help it. Your every scent, every motion set his blood afire; small deeds of good you always found yourself doing so harshly contrasted his actions he couldn’t help the fact that you intrigued his whole being.

So good, so… soft and warm. As he stared at you, all he wanted was to reach out and pull you closer to him so he could feel your shivering body close to him, knowing many ways to warm you up. Sighing, he removed his hat, running his fingers through his hair as the thoughts took a turn he always hated himself for.

“Hey, I uh…” Arthur trailed off, finding the words he wanted to speak stuck in his throat. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way, like I did back then.” He stared before him, yet he felt your eyes heavy on his.

He did feel bad, and it had been the reason for his brooding temper since then, not coming to terms with his wrongdoings until now. He had probably scared you, he concluded, and could only assume he was right as you had done your utmost to avoid him as of late.

“Don’t be,” you said with a light smile, not expecting his apology, even though he didn’t say sorry directly. “It’s a lot right now, I understand. But I still don’t understand why you’re so angry at Charles.” You were briefly met with a light sigh, eyes flickering to yours before diverting the flickering candle.

“Nah, forget it. Just me being stupid is all.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid. Maybe you’re mean sometimes and grumpy,” you said, giving him a teasing glance. “But not stupid.”

A scoff left him at your words, yet you could see the corners of his mouth chirp up lightly. “You’d be surprised.”

As your snickering died down, you rested your head on the wall behind you, not wanting to leave the quiet comfort you found yourself in nor the conversation that panned on longer than you had anticipated, much to your surprise.

“Why are you out here if you are so cold, girl?” He questioned you, catching a glimpse of your almost blue lips. “Go on inside; you’ll freeze to death if you stay here.” It would be best for you to return because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if his thoughts progressed like they did before in your presence. As he placed the hat on his head again, he glanced down quickly, doing a double take as he found you staring at him.

Was the cold finally getting to your head, or was it simply being in the presence of the man you were so unsure of but wildly intrigued by? You couldn’t tell, but the warmth spreading in your stomach as he glanced down at you spread ferociously through your stomach, almost warming you to your fingertips.

Suddenly, Arthur moved his arm slightly, and the motion made you jump, leaning away from him as you unconsciously drew closer to him. You couldn’t tell, but it almost felt like your body sometimes contradicted your mind, defying your sense of morality.

“Are you afraid of me?” He questioned, gazing at you unexplainably. Both of your breaths were audible in the quiet night, blowing like smoke out your mouths as the world around you blurred. It wasn’t like Arthur couldn’t contain himself around women, but you were something else entirely. Only in his wildest dreams did you stare at him like that, like you were expecting–waiting– for him to do something.

Yet, you looked guarded, like a cornered lam, waiting for the right moment to sprint away. You pulled away, only to lean in further, the cogs in your head turning something so awful in your mind, observing his every move yet not registering your own that reached out to him.

And gods, did he want to do the same; his internal battle proved to be more difficult as your hand gripped his coat tightly, only wanting to warm your blue lips with his own and show you how he could warm you up better than Charles’s damned gloves ever could.

“Sometimes.” You let on, voice shaking from both anticipation and uncertainty.

Leaning down towards you hesitantly, he felt hot all over when he realized you didn’t shy away from him like expected, mouth only parting further as he drew closer. As you did, you felt your breath hitch when a hand was placed on your upper back, Arthur’s weight only making you glide further down the wall until your head was resting in the crook of his elbow.

“Arthur…” He was so close now you could almost feel his heartbeat through the vast amount of clothing, breath hitting your cold, blushing cheeks as he leaned closer, the calling of his name only drawing him in. He was sure you had bewitched him, for not a single thought in his mind was about anything but the woman in front of him, entirely and utterly overtaken by what was solely you.

And through those few moments between frustration and desperation, all senses of logic disappeared as the skin of your lips conjoined, drawn together like magnets that snapped together like they never wanted to be apart again. Eyes grew shut, the only sound now the deep humming in Arthur’s chest as your hands found his cheeks, caressing the chilly skin under your palm with your thumbs.

It was ragged and scarred, a deep contrast to your own that had never tasted the metal of a gun and the blood of a foe, and the thought made a gasp rise in your throat as his weight fell heavier onto yours, pressing you into the hay-filled, snowy ground.

“Tell me to stop.” He grunted against your now wet lips, only taking a second before joining them again. He was covering your entire body as he lay above you, resting his weight on his elbows as your head rested on his arm.

“No…” You mumbled, words almost not audible against his desperate mouth, feeling just as affected by the desire as he did. You felt his face scrunch up almost painfully before he took the hand that rested on your back to glide under your coat, resting it on the side of your waist as he stroked gently, feeling the curves that hid underneath the damned fabric.

It was torture. It was an unexplainable torture that you would freeze to death if he removed the clothes that covered you, and he would surely go insane if he couldn’t feel the skin he imagined would be so very soft under his rough fingers. Just a taste, he thought sinfully to himself, slowly lifting the fabric of your shirt from under your skirt’s waistband, worming a freezing hand inside to feel the warmth that hid underneath.

You gasped at the sudden sensation but were quickly silenced as his tongue massaged your own, and the slight moan that left you only made a groan rumble loudly in his chest. The feeling of his cold hand rose your skin, stroking every bit it came across as if memorizing it to his brain, mapping out every single inch.

It was too much for you, the sheer desperation and want, not knowing what to do with yourself or how to dampen the intense feelings that nailed your firm to the ground. Every bit of you grew into static, and every touch from Arthur sent shockwaves through your body as his fingers caressed you.

“Come here.” Opening your eyes, you found his, although lidded with desire, gentle eyes gazing into yours, pulling his hand reluctantly from your waist to help you sit up. “I won’t let you lay on the ground.”

You only stared at him as he seated you on his lap, chest flush against his as his hands stroked along your arms as if to warm you up, tightening the blanket around your shoulders. You felt your heartbeat pick up at his actions, your stomach fluttering fiercely as he ensured you stayed warm.

You could tell he grew wildly unsure as you remained silent, clearing his throat as if he had been in a daze before speaking.

“If you’ll have me, that is.” You didn’t give him a chance to say more, hands finding sanction in his hair as the motion knocked off his hat, exposing the sandy locks he always kept hidden underneath it.

“Stupid question.” You mumbled softly against his mouth, pressing yourself closer to him as your fingers started fiddling with the buttons on his coat. You could already feel the heat emitting, and your fingers grew hasty as you tried to move faster, the motion of your lips faltering against his eager ones.

You would have been ashamed if it weren’t for Arthur being just as stressed about getting the buttons of your coat loose, hands wounding their way around your waist and pressing you closer to him the moment they became undone. Likewise, you wormed your arms under his shoulder, gasping as you felt the heat buried underneath the fabric, hugging him close as you placed your face into the crook of his neck.

Breathing in your scent, Arthur revealed in the way you nuzzled against him, feeling a warmth spread in his groin when the thick coat didn’t keep the pressure of your middle away from him any longer. It was heaven, he concluded, trailing his hands down to your backside as he caressed the curves, pushing you flush against his.

Oh, how he reveled in it. He was selfish; there was no denying it any longer, but he craved you so profoundly it would eat him up bit by bit if he couldn’t have you. It wasn’t about Charles any longer; it was about the fact that you had never spared him a glance, almost bordering on fearing him, deciding that everyone else company had been much safer than his own.

He knew it and had seen it in your eyes countless times. Arthur wasn’t unfamiliar with the look of utter horror plastered on people’s faces, for he faced it every day, and he wanted nothing more than to show you that you had no reason to feel that way with him, for he would never put a single finger that was unwished for on you.

And he couldn’t possibly hold it against you, for he wasn’t a good man, quite the opposite actually, and every lingering touch made him hate himself even more, wishing you would find it in you to push away from him–let him know that if he ever touched you again, you would kill him.

But, he would find that you didn’t, instead only pressing yourself even harder against him in the cold of the night, breath shaking something so terribly as he moved your lower region against his in a gentle movement. It only fueled his want for you, hands struggling their way up your skirt, caressing your stocking-clad legs as he did, reaching your undergarments with a content sigh.

His touch lighted a path up your legs, the cold nothing but a memory now even though the brisk air found its way underneath your skirt, following his hands that caressed your inner thighs in soft motions.

It was suspenseful, waiting for the skin to touch the skin, for his strong hands to wound around you as he had already wormed himself around your heart. And as he did, the coil in your stomach grew so incredibly tight you felt like it was too much like his touch alone wounded your every fiber, but instead of hurt, it was an undeniable pleasure that hit you tenfold.

The hand that had crawled its way inside your undergarments stroked alongside your tender parts, never touching you where you wanted him the most–the place that longed for his touch. He had to be teasing you; there was no other explanation as he smiled softly at your expression, gasping for air as you gripped the sides of his arms, trying to push against his fingers.

“Ah, sweetheart.” He only cooed at you, gripping your wrists with one hand as his other finally glided over the wetness of your heat, gazing directly into your eyes with his sharp gaze, admiring your pleasure-filled face that begged him to give you more, to provide you with his all. And, as he spread your folds with his fingers, the filthiest whimper of pleasure left you, laying its noise into the quiet night with no worry about anyone hearing, only fools deciding to stray outside in this bleak, frigid night.

Falling into his arms yet again, you let him enter a finger into your warm cavern, gasping desperately for air as the unfamiliar stretch widened you, dragging wonderfully against your clenching walls. It was vile, the way Arthur reveled in how tight you felt against his finger, and as he pondered on how you would feel when he pushed it you. The thought made a striking, white pleasure shoot through him, making him grunt out against your neck.

“That good?” He spoke out, adding another finger into you while placing wet, hot kisses against your blazing neck, wanting nothing more than to hear your heavenly sound of approval.

You attempted to nod, but the motion was interrupted by the increasingly more extensive stretch from both of his fingers; gasping like a madwoman as you moved against his hands, wishing to pull his fingers even deeper into you, dissatisfied when you realized it didn’t do the job.

He could only groan when he realized your intention, slipping his coated finger from your warm heat, bringing them to his mouth quickly while his other hand found the zipper of his jeans, fumbling in a stressed fashion to get rid of the constraint.

A dissatisfied moan left you as he did, wishing for nothing more than to feel the delicious stretch yet again carry alongside your walls. But, as he fumbled with his zipper, you quickly got your senses together. You helped him undo his suspenders, then slipped underneath the fabric to trail your hand alongside the apparent bulge that stretched underneath, finding his groans to fuel your actions.

For a short while, your eyes met amidst the hurry your bodies experienced, and the moment slowed down to a halt as your lips found each other once more, moving against one another like starved men. You couldn’t be closer to him, and he couldn’t possibly be closer to you, and while you earlier had pondered that this was a good idea, you couldn’t imagine anything else at this moment.

And, as your hand wrapped around him momentarily, Arthur could feel his brain’s short circuit, like he had never been able to hold a single thought in his mind his entire life. You had to have bewitched him, for he complied to your every touch, body moving against your every move like your hand was glued to his body.

“God,” he mumbled against your lips that massaged his own, thrusting against your hand as you stroked him tenderly, gasping against him quietly. It wasn’t hurried but warm and slow, basking in each other’s presence like you had never before discovered the feeling of another’s touch against your own.

“That good?” You replied teasingly, mimicking his earlier words as you smiled a toothy smile, feeling him chuckle lowly at your apparent teasing, giving you a playful slap on your behind as his breathing picked up.

Suddenly, you felt a hand encase your own. As he removed it from his throbbing member, he only grabbed you closer, wounding his arms around your back as he pulled you into a hug, the feeling of him underneath you wonderful as you glided along it–moaning wantonly as the friction shot sharp streaks of pleasure up your body.

“Come on, sweetheart. I’ll warm you up.” As he spoke, he could feel himself shudder as your wet lips encased his tip, groaning audibly as he thought you rubbing against him. You were illegal, he concluded, for nothing could ever be allowed to feel this good–it wasn’t possible.

“Please,” you gasped against his lips, moving your hips slightly as you felt his hands circle your waist. “Please, Arthur.”

He hushed you quietly, finally feeling you wrap your lips around him as he slowly entered your warm cavern, the walls fitting him snugly as a grunt left him unexpectedly, lost in the pleasure you brought him.

While it felt too good to imagine, you could only keep your mouth open at the sensation, wondering how something could ever fill you up quite as good as this. Without a single thought, you sat down entirely, feeling him stretch you wonderfully as you wrapped around all of him, wounding your hands around his neck.

You didn’t need to move much, for he thrust up into you when you had gotten used to his size, feeling yourself being hitched up to his body as the motion made your whole body rise to then fall back down on him, once more filled to the brim. His grunting in your ears filled your senses, and while the slight consciousness entered your mind, wondering what you were doing, you pushed it far back, relishing in how your body responded to his.

Despite the cold that was surely creeping into your bones the more you stayed out here, the sound of skin against skin filling the empty spaces around you made you feel more connected to each other than you had ever felt with anyone else.

You started to move with him, bringing down your hips to meet his while he thrusts into you, growing more desperate by the minute. You found the hands hugging your waist, circling their arms around it, pushing you even further against him as you rested your hands on his cheeks, having no choice but to stare into his lidded eyes as he grunted roughly underneath you.

God, how he wanted to push you down onto the ground and drive into you, damning the snow that covered the ground. Instead, he glided down further from the wall, feeling your weight press against him more as your head found sanction in his neck, feeling his thrusts grow more in power as he pistoned into you harder from the new position.

“Arthur.” You breathed out, feeling the stretch of him grow as the position made him reach even deeper inside you, one arm reaching down to grab your bottom so he could hold you firmer against him.

“I know, honey.” He murmured, head growing dizzy as you clenched around him so wonderfully, mewling sweetly into his ears as you let him take control.

Did it make him an evil man for reveling in what he knew Charles would never gain from you? Maybe it did, but those thoughts were placed far back in his mind as your lips found his, small moans now muted as you grew desperate for his affection, growing insatiable to once more feel the fondness that laid in his every touch.

He had been so angry that someone else had gained the courage to do what he couldn’t, realizing he had been too late. Yet now, as you remain unknowing above him, it only made his lips plant themself firmer against yours, determined to make you understand that nobody could make you feel this way except him.

Grabbing the blanket off your shoulders, he threw it down towards the ground as you gasped, stroking your waist tenderly before slowing his movements.

Your breath heaved something so terrible, your voice shaking as you spoke. “Don’t stop, Arthur. Please.” He felt his stomach coil at your words, throbbing inside you as he moved to a seated position.

“I ain’t stopping, sweetheart,” he let on, leaning you backwards lightly. “Lay back for me, okay?” You did as he said without a protest, the cold now gone as your legs spread from him.

He almost groaned from the sight, taking a moment to observe you as you stared at him through lidded eyes, blushed cheeks so wonderfully red against the whiteness of the snow you almost looked like an angel–your hair spread like a halo around your head where you laid on the blanket.

Crawling over you quickly, he grunted as he felt your hand encasing itself around him, stroking slowly as you guided it to your clenching hole. For a moment, he felt a relief spread through him at the feeling of your walls surrounding him before the sheer and utter desperation set in, beginning to move into you at a faster pace than before.

Your breath hitched at the sudden movement, yet you gripped his arms to keep him there, not baring the thought of him stopping again. Being over you gave him more control, and his primal instincts set in as the coil in his stomach shot burning flashes throughout his body, wanting nothing more than to feel your warm walls around him forever. Maybe it was the desire talking, but he swore that the thought of you being like this with any other man than him would make him heave.

Encasing his arms around you as your hands found his hair, he felt your legs wrap around his waist, now so close he was grounding into you relentlessly. Rough yet tender, he moved into you with care, but you could feel that he was holding back as he panted above you.

“Don’t stop!” You begged him once more amidst his thrusts, pulling on his strands as his lips found the softness of your neck. Why you were begging, you couldn’t say, oblivious to the words leaving your mouth in utter bliss.

“Hm?” He mumbled, smiling lightly from hearing your ruined voice beg him. He felt like a sick man gaining pleasure from it, but his mind was too hazy to take notice, longing to hear those words leave your sweet mouth once more. “What was that?”

“Don’t stop,” you voiced breathlessly as his hand found your breast, rolling the nub softly between his rough fingers. Despite your begging, for his own sickly twisted pleasure his hips ceased their movements, moving torturously slow as he raised his elbows to stare at your tear-filled eyes.

They shot open as he slowed his pace, displeased he didn’t listen as you already felt shameful for sounding so desperate. You couldn’t help it, for it felt too good, and now that he had stopped, you wished he never had. Was he teasing you? The thought made you blush from embarrassment and annoyance, pleading with your eyes.

“No…” You mumbled, trying to move against him, yet his hands held you firm against the ground.

“Say it.” Arthur’s voice was coarse as he spoke, grabbing your hand to place tender kisses on it as your displeased sounds reached his ears. He only got a confused look, smirking slightly at the longing and apparent dissatisfaction plastered on your face. A biting shadowed lust replaced his usually sharp eyes as he watched you, carnal written deeply in his eyes.

“My name, sweetheart. Let me hear you say it.” Suddenly, he pistoned his hips against you, driving up your wet walls as a mewl left you from the sudden force. You felt his intense eyes on you as your eyes shut momentarily, and through your blurred vision, they didn’t stay open for long.

“Arthur,” you moaned, eye-rolling into the back of your head as your back arched, a wave of pleasure shooting through you at his demands. He held the same controlled yet sensual pace, knowing he’d slip out of you if he went any harder. Still, his accuracy was wicked–hitting the right spot with every move.

“That’s it,” he praised you, placing another kiss on your palm as his thrusts increased, grunting roughly as your walls squeezed him tightly. You break into sobs as you reach out to grasp his arms, tilting his head up just enough to let you know he’s watching you, his hazy gaze roving over the devastation on your face.

The snow around you mutes the sound of skin hitting skin as he sets a brutal pace. “I didn’t tell you to stop, sweetheart.” The deep rumble in his chest as he spoke the words laced with possessiveness made your heartbeat pick up faster than it already was, the light ringing in your ears increasing as your body was hoisted up with each of his thrusts.

You call his name like a prayer amidst the pleasure, and satisfaction at hearing his name come so sinfully from your mouth made his eyes roll back, knuckles turning white from gripping the ground so harshly. Oh, you had no idea that every noise you let out from his advances made his heart soar with pride, feeling the softness of your skin under the palm of his hands.

Arthur feels the abrupt stop of movements from your hand, gripping tightly on his arms as you spasm around his cock, clenching tightly as the pads of his fingers come down to rub at your swollen nub as your orgasmed, a loud whine leaving you at the contact. It’s too much for you, the sensation too unfamiliar yet devastatingly addictive–not knowing if you wanted to drive your hips away from his brutal assault or enjoy him even more profoundly.

Even if you had decided on the prior, he didn’t let you, pushing you firm against the ground as he twitched inside you at the noises you let out, groaning lowly as he came inside your warm walls, planting himself deep inside you.

“Christ-” He grunts out, teeth clenched as you feel his cock throb inside you, cum gathering at the base of him as his hips slow to deep thrusts, grinding into you in sheer pleasure as the knot in his stomach unleashed, feeling you placing small kissed on his neck.

The slight motion made him smile amidst his pleasure-filled mind, caressing the curves of your waist as he nestled his head into your neck, still panting heavily. As you both calmed down, it didn’t take long for your hand to find his, fingers wounding themselves around the others in the blissful aftermath.

As you opened your eyes after catching your breath, you found a pair of blue ones already gazing at you. You didn’t speak for a while, both of you trying to digest the situation as tiny snowflakes could be seen falling from the sky through the cracks in the walls. It reminded you of how cold you should have been, but with Arthurs’s broad chest covering you, it felt like you were clinging to a furnace.

“Shit, you must be freezing.” He suddenly let out, shaking his head slightly as if in a daze before rising to pull you with him. As he pulled your skirt down your legs, rubbing them between his hands to warm you up, you could only stare at him in quiet wonder.

“What?” He grumbled out, sniveling lightly as he glanced at you. Had you not wanted this, he wondered, doubt starting to fill his mind. You were too quiet for his liking, only staring at him as he tried to prolong touching your soft skin, fearful of the hurtful words that were sure to come.

“Are you jealous of Charles?”

If crickets had been this far north, they would surely be the only thing audible as Arthur stopped. Bear of a man, hardy and stubborn to many, yet a faint blush could be seen rising to his cheeks as his face lowered–wishing so dearly he could find his hat that had seemingly disappeared so he could hide.

If he had been looking at you, he would have seen the toothy smile covering your face, a tender laugh leaving you as your assumptions became reality. You had to give him credit, though, for he had you completely and utterly fooled.

“No.” He stated firmly, rising on his legs to pull up his pants. He found himself unable to, though, your hand grabbing his suspenders to pull him back down. The same heat that had lessened in his stomach came back as he felt your nimble touch caress him through his pants, gaining a mischievous look from you as you widened your legs.

“Don’t worry, Arthur. I’ll give Charles his gloves back if you stay here and keep me warm.”

Oh dear, that would do it. Whatever thoughts that filled his mind flew out the window, wholly consumed by you as your hands caressed his back, staring expectantly up at him.

“Only me, right?”

“Only you, stupid.”

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