#i feel bad and these boots are made for walkin' for pure hell

[dogencool]

I’m not really a character music playlist maker but I think any Hobie Brown playlist that doesn’t have at least one song from Dead Kennedys, The Damned, Pure Hell, and X-Ray Spex on it has something wrong with it

[babbushka]

*insert Bernie voice* I am once again asking for a Clyde blurb for size kink 😩❤️❤️❤️

1.2k, NSFW (soft dom!Clyde, size kink, car sex, semi-nudity in public)

Late at night, when his shifts drag on into the 2’am hour, you get a real strong desire for your man, your Clyde. Sometimes, if you’re in a desperate enough mood for him, you’ll drive on down to Duck Tape and spring your achin’ need on him, and he’s happy enough to comply. But sometimes, you’re too desperate, and you can barely throw enough clothes on to be decent, so Clyde’s gotta meet you at the car.

You’ve called him to let him know you’re on the way for one of those times, and when you pull up to the front of the parkin’ lot, the place jam packed for bein’ a weekend and all, Clyde’s already waiting for you.

Damn it all, was he big. Six foot three without his boots on, and seemingly just as wide. A proper fuckin’ line backer, your Clyde was, and he’s heading your way. One of the things that was so tantalizin’ about him, was the way he was solid, real solid, all the way through. He didn’t have any curves really, he was thick, a brick wall. It made your mouth water, made your hands tap tap tap on the steerin’ wheel in anxious need.

“Hey there lil’ lady,” Clyde opens the rear passenger side door, cuttin’ right to the chase, “Heard you were in need of a good fuckin’.”

“Clyde please, I missed you too bad.” You whine, eagerly climbing over the center console and landing right in his lap, your legs straddling his strong thighs.

“I’ve got ya darlin’, don’t go apologizin’, I’ve got ya.” With a deep rumbling chuckle in his chest, Clyde tugs his cock out and strokes it with his good hand, mouth already seeking yours as you wriggle and whine impatiently above him. He nips at your bottom lip and orders, “Spread them pretty legs for me real nice and slow, let me see her.”

You’re in nothing but a see-through robe, one of the ones Clyde got you as a joke gift one valentine’s day, the mesh type with feathers around the hem and the cuffs. It does absolutely nothing to conceal any part of your body, but you do as he says, spreading your legs, wanting to be good for him.

“I should be punsihin’ you for showin’ up to the bar naked.” Clyde jerks himself off for a minute or two until his cock is so hard it’s got that delicious curve that you’re anxious to get stuffed up into your cunt.

“I’m not naked! I’ve...” You gesture down to the flimsy and see-through robe, huffin’ out a laugh, “Well I’ve got somethin’ on.”

“Not enough sugar, what if I wanted you to come in for a drink? Say hello t’some friends?” Clyde taps the side of your thigh then, and you rise up up up onto your knees, the leather of the car seat creakin’ under the shifting of your weight.

“You wouldn’t.” You breathe as you start to sink down on his cock, the head of it teasin’ right at your folds.

“No?”

“Nope, you want me all to yourself, ain’t that right?” You moan on the last word, as you let gravity pull you down onto Clyde’s dick, needing to steel yourself from the sheer overwhelming sensation of being so fuckin’ full.

“Fuckin’ hell you’re tight.” He grunts lowly, his hand rubbing circles on your back, eyes shuttin’ tight from it all, “C’mon darlin’ relax for me.”

“I can’t help it you’re -- oh yes! -- you’re so big.” You moan, because he was! He was ten inches of pure fucking power, and all of it was buried down to the hilt inside your body. You can feel the head of his cock knocking against your cervix, and it’s almost painful, but not quite, just so much.

“You like that I’m big?” Clyde eggs you on, an uncharacteristic speech that only tends to come out this late at night, when it’s just the two of you in the whole wide world, “Like how I can fill ya up real good?”

“Yes yes yes, I do, I love it Clyde, fuck I love you.” You’re bouncing on his cock, now that your body has had a minute to adjust, you can’t stop yourself from thrusting down onto it, taking the pleasure that his massive body gives you. You rock and grind your hips against his, your hands clutching and clinging to his shoulder for leverage. He’s so sturdy that he doesn’t barely move even as you bounce and moan wantonly loud.

“Alrigh’ stay quiet for me now, don’t go makin’ me cover that pretty mouth o’yours.” Clyde leans in to kiss at the spot where your neck meets your shoulder, and you have half a mind to tell him to gag you anyway, wanting to be stuffed from both ends, all over.

But then that would mean he doesn’t get to touch your clit and make you cry in pleasure, so you shut your mouth and swallow the louder shouts down into somethin’ less attention-grabbin’. It was a full bar after all.

“Come for me darlin’, get what you came here for.” Clyde is close, you can tell just from the husk of his voice, the way he’s startin’ to thrust up into you erratically, no longer as composed as he was.

“Oh fuck!” You suck in a sharp breath, tryin’ not to be loud in case anyone’s in the parkin’ lot, as the two of you come in tandem, the heat from your bodies steaming up the car.

A minute or so later, Clyde helps you off his lap, and buttons himself back up into his jeans. He gets out of the back seat and reaches onto the floor where you’ve stashed a little towel for this exact purpose, and dutifully cleans you down while you grin up at him through hooded eyelids.

“I came to see you too, y’know. It ain’t just about your cock or nothin’, honest.” You say sincerely, and he blushes deeply, his ego shootin’ through the roof.

“I know.” He kisses you gently, that big bear of yours shy and snuggly underneath his hardened exterior, “But I gotta admit, I like that you like it so much. Ain’t never had a girl go so wild over me.”

“Good thing you married then, huh?” You wink, and he blushes even deeper.

“Yep.” He takes a good look at ya, sighs out a little, “I wish I could bring you in for that damn drink. I don’t want you to go just yet.”

“Well, maybe you could lay out here with me for a while? Ain’t like the bar’ll turn to anarchy if you sit with me for a couple more minutes.” You offer, and he nods, takin’ you up on it, climbing back into the rear seat and settling himself on your chest, listenin’ to your heart beat.

The whole damn thing could go up in flames and he wouldn’t give a shit, if it means he gets to sit here with you, he thinks, and even though he doesn’t say it, you hear it anyway, and hold him extra tight for those few golden minutes before you make the drive back home, knowing he’ll be walkin’ through your door again soon for round two.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Taggin' some Clyde lovin' friends! @mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @steeevienicks @lovinghufflepuffgirl @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @groovetoob @bxnnywriting @glassbxttless @angel-bxby3 @smallgirlbigpersonality @lovelyyy-luna @2000andwhat @raddo1975 @cornmousequeen @caillea @painttheskylineforme @holding-on-to-starwars @kylo-ren-is-alive @caitlin-was-here

[rcris123]

“Go to sleep.” Sebastian caught him awake again; man said he’d keep watch.

But things just ain’t sitting right by him. Arthur gets up with a heave.

“Get back to sleep. It ain’t even been two hours-”

“I know.” Arthur finds his way to sit by Sebastian. A sigh. “But there ain’t no rest for the wicked.” A faint smile as he leans against the post on the porch.

A glance at the man: he looked clouded by thoughts, by the way his brows were knit together and eyes were lost somewhere in the distance those thoughts ain’t nothing nice. Part of him’s meaning to ask what that’s all about; what’s the story behind them undead and how it all came- It’s why man ended up a dandy in the first place. A scratch of the beard before he speaks:

“Watchu thinking about?”

Sebastian sighed, a long drawn out sigh: “I think you already know.”

“The goddamn walking swamp corpses?” A huff. “Me too...”

That got his attention.

“Was thinking what the hell’s up with them. I mean I’ve seen some odd stuff ‘round, but-” Arthur sighs. “I’m getting worried there ain’t no more hiding.”

“They’re not invincible, thou.”

They did burn the corpses...

“And purely strategically this is a good hiding place. It’s inconvenient for the law and with the undead walkin’ around it’ll scare off those curious.” Sebastian continues. And then another long drawn out sigh. “I know how to fight these, but the memories ain’t nice.” Teeth bare in a snarl at the end.

“Sebastian-”

“A man came to Rhodes once, said he was a lawman from Saint Denis, barely got away with his life after going to investigate some murders up in the swamp.” Man looks at him then as if he was to confess some great sin. “Me and my wife took him in. I was a Sheriff.” His gaze returns to the fire. “His name was Joseph. Handsome, determined, intelligent. Wanted to get his hands on whatever was out there in those swamps. And we went out together, saw the things we saw, had an...” Air is sucked in between teeth. “Had an affair...” Man falls silent then.

“I get that.” Arthur says, as a means of comfort.

“Things got complicated... Joseph got shot-” Words came hard. “I was still a Sheriff then... They... Well Myra did. But they found out. I wasn’t allowed in the house no more.”

“And you put ye’rself out there like there ain’t nothing more than that you fucked a feller...” Arthur’s heartbroken, but he quite sure how else to offer comfort.

“Yeah...”

“I’m sorry, Sebastian. Real sorry.” He tries to close the gap somehow.

And it’s Sebastian that lets his head fall on Arthur’s shoulder. Cheek leans against it.

“It’s been 5 years since...”

A hand runs down the man’s back for support and relief; Sebastian seems to lean into the touch.

“Ya’know, I always thought there ain’t nothin’ more to me than a killer.” Arthur says after a while; a lil something to show he ain’t alone.

“And are you?”

“Don’t know...”

Sebastian laughs, grimly: “A prostitute and an outlaw.”

“I’d say that’s a fine couple.”

And Sebastian snorts again, leaning further up against him, now both o’them got one arm’s round the other back. Fingers draw faint lines above fabric, barely moving, then picking up more courage. It’s almost comforting.

“Arthur, I...” He stops midway, the strokes above his spine become firmer before ceasing. “You should get some sleep.”

“You need sleep more than I do.”

Another snort.

“Then stay with me.” Sebastian says after the quiet’s settled again.

“Will do.” A smile on his lips as Arthur looks down at him however he can. Fingers ghost above the shirt’s collar, feeling skin and hair. And the warm sensation nestles back within his chest like a bird in spring.

It’s May after all...

And he fears he’s already too far gone.

 They didn’t close an eye all night. It was quiet at first, then they started talking, lil’ things, like hunting, different stories of all types of animals and whatever other monstrosities they ended up encountering, like goddamn giant remains he and Isaac found up by mount Shan, then Sebastian mentioned the deal with the gunsmith in Rhodes where the owner chained someone in the basement pretending to be his child, chain ganged and all. After that discussion slipped to children. He found out his daughter’s name was Lily, a beautiful name, and ‘bout how vivacious she was, found her Daddy reading and asked him to teach her, writing too. And how all that happened just short before the entire Joseph thing. She loved stories and he’s sure she’d be writing some of her own if she was given the chance. Arthur taught Isaac as best he could, but the boy had Dutch and Hosea as back-up in case Arthur ended up a failure o’a father, which he ain’t too sure he wasn’t. Sebastian on the other hand sounded like the parent everyone could be hoping to have, and he knew that, by the way he was around Isaac, Jack and the other youngest in the camp. And a great husband to boot- why’s his chest this tight thinking about that. If anything this fool ain’t deserving Sebastian.

The fire was long quenched to simmering charcoal when the sun starts rising and Charles wakes up as if on cue. The man looks at these two idiots leaned in on each other as if he’d stumbled upon some teenagers kissing somewhere: compassion and an urge to look away.

Sebastian straightens up with a groan.

“I don’t judge.” Charles lifted up his arms defensively and Sebastian pins him with a look of mild suspicion before relaxing. “You two should be resting. Weren’t you injured?”

“Yes...” Sebastian says through gritted teeth, Arthur guessed just ‘cause the evidence for exhaustion and pain were undeniable.

“So what’re we plannin’ on tellin’ Dutch about this lil’ endeavor of ours?” Arthur changes the subject.

Charles thinks for a moment: “I’ll go tell him of this place, see what the situation’s like back at Shady Belle, and I think you three should keep on looking.”

Sebastian squints as if he caught onto something, Arthur scratches his beard.

“I’ll look for you if anything goes wrong.”

Realization strikes: “You lettin’ us run away...”

“I said I would.”

“Why?” Sebastian is stern and Charles frowns but still continues:

“Because he has a life outside the gang-”

“I still got people I need to take care of back there, Charles.” Arthur cuts in. “And don’t you fool yourself, you’re among them.”

“The weight of our lives shouldn’t be on your shoulders.” Charles speaks with stinging honesty and quite some concern.

And Arthur remains silent, so it’s Sebastian that speaks up, without looking at any of ‘em:

“There’s still the question of money. I’ve barely got enough.”

And there comes his resolution. Arthur searches through his satchel and hands Sebastian no less than 1500 dollars:

“You get this. And you take Isaac with you-” He said he’ll get him and the kid out, not himself.

Sebastian catches his hand and refuses to let go: “I won’t-”

“Watchu want me doing then?” His voice ain’t as scolding as the words imply, it’s low, above a whisper, meant to be private.

“Keep the money for when you get out yourself.”

His lips purse: “Sebastian-”

“I’m still going off alone.” Charles insisted.

“Why-”

“Don’t play fool, Arthur.” Charles became stern; Sebastian squeezed his hand as if Arthur’s the only one of ‘em that didn’t understand what that meant. “They ain’t kind.”

Now it made sense... And it makes him clutches Sebastian’s palm tighter into his own, as if he’s clinging. It feels somewhat like his actions took decisions for him long before his brain could make up its mind on what it wanted.

To take some time for himself... That’s a foreign concept, and he ain’t deserving it either way-

But maybe they do. Isaac, Sebastian. They deserved the levity, and he can’t be selfish now. Not for them, ‘cause he’s been allowed that. Mind goes back to that pen, the necklace that he mindlessly touches. He’s been allowed, gifted those things, and it ain’t been ‘cause he earned any of it. It’s for them, they earned it, Arthur just somehow managed to be that idiot in their lives, so he better make the best of it.

Charles takes off shortly after; simply gets up on Taima and sets off.

And Arthur’s left there to mull over his thoughts and maybe stare at the man next to him. He’s thinkin’ he’ll do the latter first, leaning into him with a drawn-out sigh.

“What’re thoughts on this, Sebastian?...” he looks up at him, gaining quite the appreciation for this low angle, the way the jaw made a sharp line, jutting forward in a chin, then slim lips and a strong nose.

And he has brown doe eyes glancing down at him now.

“Well Charles ain’t too bad-”

Arthur scoffs: “Ain’t meant that-”

“I’m just needling you, Arthur.”

“I know...” A sigh, another absentminded stroke of the necklace; it’s quite heavy, hard to forget it’s there. A groan and Arthur’s up, face turned towards Sebastian; there’s half baked sarcastic lines sitting on his tongue but he better keep his mouth shut ‘bout those if he ain’t wanting to be slapped ‘cross the face. He knows he ain’t romantic.

“You got anything you want to do?” Sebastian asks.

“Was gonna ask the same thing-”

“Hm.” Man ponders. “Well yesterday’s got my fishing appetite back up and I know there’s a monster sturgeon just at the mouth of the Lanahachee by Saint Denis. And there was also that bounty hunt you was talking about...”

“A fishin’ contest?” Arthur chuckles. “Sure.”

“And while we’re at it we’ll be able to scout Saint Denis, see how the city feels in the absence of Valentini. Maybe there ain’t no need to move.”

Another laugh bubbles in his throat: “Ye’r a better outlaw than me.”

“Or maybe you’re just particularly bad at being one. Though I heard you were pretty good- 5000 dollars...”

“You flirting with me?”

“I’m letting you decide on that-” One of Sebastian’s fingers tugs at the collar of his shirt, unbuttoning it-

“Did I hear anything ‘bout fishing?” when heads turn realization strikes that the kid’s been wide awake for half the conversation. “Or do you want me to turn away and-”

“You’re a goddamn menace, Isaac.” Arthur shakes his head with a smile and a chuckle. “Not letting ye’r ol’ man get some lil’ bit of peace and quiet.” He tries to stand up

“No, I think we better keep the smooching for private.”

“I said I can turn away, if you want-”

How’d he, Arthur moron Morgan, got himself to be father to this treasure of a child; boy ain’t ever judged anyone and to think somehow this... this whole thing is comin’ so easy to Isaac as if it’s second nature has him at ease. Somehow... somehow he’s thinkin’ they ain’t ever really been a family, that they ain’t ever really been whole. Boy’s been missing a mother all his life. Can he even remember her? His Pa surely doesn’t... They don’t really talk of her... And now Sebastian. Is Isaac simply that desperate for a real parent that he’ll cling on to anyone.

“Pa?...” He noticed the silence, ‘course he did, that smart kid.

“Is nothin’. Was just thinkin’ of things and I-” a sigh. “Sorry.”

Sebastian stood now too, puts a hand on his shoulder.

Isaac got up from the bed:

“If there’s something I can help you with, ever, you know I will.” Boy rolls up his sleeping bag. “Just tell me, please...”

Heart bursts a lil’, feeling leak into his expression; Sebastian’s grip tightens on him.

“Isaac, com’ere.” Boy looks at him for a second before Arthur opens up his arms wide, catching the kid when he comes running. He clutches the boy tight against his chest: “I love you, Isaac, ya’ hear. I love you, son.”

And Isaac muffles a response against his shirt.

And maybe he didn’t need to speak, but Sebastian did: “You deserve the world, kid.” And Isaac sneaks a hand and pulls on Sebastian’s vest to drag him closer, pressing him up against Arthur who ended up sandwiched between.

“I like you too, Sebastian.”

Maybe this a bit too sweet for a bunch o’ wayward outlaws, but it ain’t too bad. No, it ain’t bad at all...

Moment lasts a lil’ while longer, a pile of awkward limbs and awkward feelings, as if he should stop fighting all that this is and just let it happen. There’s been plenty other things that just happened to him, and there were few that were this happy.

“Now about that monster fish Sebastian was talkin’ about?”

“C’mon I’ll show you.”

The day was bright, and whatever cool air there was in the morning, not even an hour later was gone; the muggy soupyness of the swamp made itself at home again. The insects came again, roaring loud, felt like summer and quite some. It was past midday when they got there, got themselves some bread, cheese and salted beef to munch on just by the rail tracks, Isaac deciding it’s a good idea to have his feet dangling off the side.

They found themselves a boat just a bit downstream from the bridge and ‘cause Sebastian was as he was it was up to Arthur to row the boat.

“So which one o’ you will be usin’ as bait for this monster fish?” Arthur jokes.

“Isaac looks more bite-sized.”

“M~aybe, but you won’t struggle so much so we might just get a chance at catching the bastard.” Isaac smiles, cocky, full of himself as if he just murdered his biggest enemy.

Arthur can’t help but giggle.

“Touché.” Sebastian says; Isaac’s nose crinkles.

“What does that even mean?”

“It’s when your opponent makes a good point.” Sebastian explains. “Some years in Saint Denis and you start learning French.”

Arthur stops next to where the water’s rippling, sin of fish coming out for a breath; he gets up and takes out his rod, there’s a funky, odd lure attached and he ain’t bothering changing it.

“But you also know Spanish.” Arthur beckons back to Sebastian as man threw the line out.

“My Daddy was a foreigner, came all the way from Spain. He and Momma moved around a lot until we settled somewhere near Rhodes. He became a bounty hunter, then got deputized by the Grays. Was a teenager back then, and after he passed, a drunken accident, they made me a Sheriff. Momma got to see me married with a kid until fever got her.”

“Sounds like a happy life.” Isaac interrupted, carefully reeling in his line. “Did Pa ever tell you what happened to Ma?”

“Yeah...” Sebastian replies.

“Oh...”

“Do you remember anything of that time?”

There was something nibbling on the line; Arthur carefully keeps going slow and steady maybe it bites.

“I remember I cried.” Isaac replies back to Sebastian. “Some men shot her for money; I hid under some crates, then I ran away.”

“You’re a really brave kid, I hope you know that.” Sebastian continued and the two of ‘em shared a smile while Arthur stopped for barely a moment to watch. Felt a bit like things were mending-

“Shit!” Line is yanked with force, such force that he’s afraid he’ll fall off the boat. Sebastian catches him before that’s the case.

Teeth clench and he tries to hold the wire from unspooling but that ain’t possible.

“Think I found him!” Arthur yells when the bastard’s calmed down and he can try to reel him in.

Another struggle. Isaac lets out an awed sound when he sees the tail of the fish splash the surface.

“Did you see how big that was!?” Isaac was all excited.

“Yeah.” Sebastian chaffs in. “I bet that thing eats human.”

“AH, heard that Isaac-” Arthur struggles against the beast. “You better start praying ye’r Pa ain’t ending up fish food!”

Boy scowls then keeps on watching.

He fears his arms might just give in from all the strain they’re under, but there’s Sebastian holding him so he don’t fall over. Heart thumps madly in his chest: effort, heat and the firm grip the man had on him. And the tug o’ war between him and Devil’s fishy spawn goes on for a while, quite a while.

But it’s getting closer, inch by inch closer- There’s the head of that monstrosity! Sebastian leans over the side of the boat and grabs the fish by the gills, heaving to bring it inside the boat. Arthur bends next to him, helping the behemoth onboard.

It fills the entire goddamn boat.

And it struggles some more, slaps Isaac in the face, before boy, pissed as hell, climbs on top of the fish’s spine and sits as if he’s ready to ride it to battle. Then a look up: the kid’s beaming.

At last, with a groan Arthur falls down into the boat: “Gotcha, you hell fish.” He ends up poking the snout of the monster with his boot: those round expressionless eyes almost looked at him with anger.

“Now what we gonna do with him?” asks Isaac.

“I think...” Sebastian intervened. “We can get quite the money off this beast. Say we take it in Saint Denis, at the market.”

“And how the hell we do that-” Arthur laughs.

“I think Sir Lancelot’s big enough to carry him.”

“I meant myself, Isaac.” Arthur’s exhausted and all a sweat. He lets the coat off of him, unbuttons his shirt.

Sebastian looks at him. A smirk forms on Arthur’s half parted lips and he opens up another button; half is chest is visible through the crack of the collar. And he can’t say he ain’t enjoying that half frustrated look Sebastian gave him. He can only wonder now how a cock feels up his ass- Jesus Christ!

Fish. Saint Denis.

He wanted to get up to row, but Sebastian’s faster, takes the task from him and it’s clear on his sweaty face how much it hurts to move that shoulder. He’s groaning all the way through, louder the more he strains. And he’s knowin’ that; his shot left shoulder’s still as stiff as ever, movement came with a pop of joints and a feeling of numbness; in all honesty after this goddamn fish he’s barely feelin’ his left arm at all: it tickles and crinkles as if he fell asleep on in.

Through a collective 3 man effort they manage to get the beast sturgeon up on Big Sir, trying it down with some ropes. Isaac hops on, while Arthur helps Sebastian into the saddle; he ain’t asked, but that’s what a good pardner does.

The market ain’t all that far and by now he’s feelin’ like he knows these places all too well, just a bit ahead the saloon and the Molly House, then across from the market, a bit away, by the Church was the Doctor. He bled on these streets. And he thinks he might have found, above love, salvation on these cobbled streets that he’d otherwise not stand. He hated big cities; and yet forgiveness came from the gutters of a stinking big city, with all it’s fumes and reptiles.

“Please, sir, will you help the poor?” A monk begged by the wall, with pleading eyes.

Arthur gets down from the saddle, again on impulse rather than actual rational thought, and tosses 3 dollars in the man’s platter; a dollar each.

“Bless you, sir!”

He turns away, to get on with selling that monstrosity of a fish, but not without wishing the priest a good day in his own way:

“Well good luck to you, Father. Hope you getting on quite well-”

The monk continues the conversation however:

“It’s quite the apathetic lot I’m afraid, kind sir. And I am just a humble Brother, not a priest.”

It’s a gut reaction when he says: “I ain’t kind.” Forgetting almost that both Sebastian and Isaac are with him, thou it feels like at least his son’s forgiving him all too easy for all the wrongs he’s done.

“You just gave money for the poor, sir, I beg to differ.”

He’s still up on his mare: “I’m a nasty bit of work, Brother.”

“You may have made some poor choices, but which of us hasn’t?” the man’s insisting, and it’s Sebastian that catches on to something that’s amiss.

“You needing help with something, Brother?” Sebastian asks, inching forward with his horse.

“Well, thing is...” the monk’s voice lowers. “Poverty will always be with us, but slavery, I thought we abolished that.”

“I don’t believe you- It’s 1899.” Arthur scoffs.

Sebastian on the other hand: “How?”

“Seems Saint Denis is acting like a staging post for shipping slaves to the islands.” Says the Brother. “Maybe you should see for yourself. I heard the pawnbroker down the block, ’round the corner, the one with the green door, sales more than forlorn trinkets.”

Sebastian jumps down the saddle. Arthur purses his lips, turns to Isaac:

“Son, go see if you find a buyer for that fish. We go take a look.”

He dismounts himself and follows a limping Sebastian, a hand on the back as he reaches him for support.

“Slavery.” Sebastian’s livid, and he looks absolutely convinced it was true. Arthur ain’t that certain, but he ain’t been the one living in Saint Denis for the past couple o’ years.

But all doubt washed away once they got inside. There was scratch marks on the floor, under a bookshelf. A trap door. He keeps silent but looks at Sebastian, nose crinkled. And if that wasn’t a dead giveaway the way the shopkeeper told ‘em that there ain’t nothing there to see sets it in stone. There’s prisoners behind that case. And Sebastian loses no time pawing at the side of the cupboard, searching how and where it comes undone.

“Help me out here-” Sebastian asks and no second doubts Arthur swoops in, jabbing his fingers in the crack at the back.

Heaving, they both yank while the shopkeeper was losing his mind over it. With a bit of effort, the door unlocks.

There’s voices from downstairs; Spanish he reckons and Sebastian quickens the pace.

“Se's bien.” He calls out reaching downstairs. “Yo'm aquí para ayudar.”

Arthur ain’t understanding a single thing, but the cheery gasps from those people are all he needed. Poor bastards are chained to the walls like goddamn animals. Sebastian was already helping one of them and Arthur goes to free the other:

“Please, I’m on your side.” Arthur tries, hoping they understand.

“Él's conmigo. Nos'vamos a sacar.” Sebastian says and the fear in the other’s eyes seems to have dimmed a lil’.

They’re both free now.

“Arthur, lead the way-”

And that he does, gets upstairs first, looks for that shopkeeper to make sure he ain’t up to any funny business, while Sebastian sneaks out with the now freed people, speaking to them softly in their language.

Soon enough they’re outta the shop and back to the Brother who was looking concerned and rejoiced all at once.

“We found these two imprisoned in that shop.” Sebastian says.

“Oh my...” the monk says. “Thank you. Both of you. They’re blessed to have found you.” And the man’s gaze falls on Arthur’s neckline all of a sudden; the necklace glinting in the midday sun.

He ignored that: “I don’t think they speak much English, thou.”

“Ah,” Brother looks at them, then at those poor souls, gesticulating wildly: “Let’s get something to eat.” And that sounds like a really bad French accent. “Manger?”

Sebastian intervenes like the savior he was: “Él's van a conseguir algo de comer. Vamos.” They trust him and they follow behind the monk.

A look at the pavement, at his feet. The platter. He left it behind. Arthur bends down to pick it up and hand it over: “Brother, you forgot this.”

“Oh. Thank you, I-” he takes it, then hesitates and pushes it back: “Here. Payment. For your services.”

“Give it to the poor, Brother.” Arthur says in a heartbeat.

“I couldn’t thank you enough! ... and urhm it’s Brother Dorkins.”

“Arthur Morgan. Sebastian Castellanos.” Arthur introduces them both.

The man’s gaze falls once again on the necklace: “Come see me again sometimes. I often work at the old church on Gaspar street.”

“I know the place.” Sebastian says, the monk smiles as he departs, and only then Sebastian lets out a sigh that feels like it’s been held in for far too long. “Motherfuckers.”

“Whoever said you ain’t a do-gooder was lying.” Arthur rubs a hand on the man’s back.

“Then you’re a liar yourself.”

Arthur lets out a noise, bobs his head around, then lets his eyes fall back on Sebastian’s face. “You did good, Sebastian.”

“You did too.” A smile; for themselves, a lil’ thing.

They should be going to look for the kid. And they find him soon enough, waving at them no more, no less than 40 dollars.

“A few more of those and we’ll be richmen.” Isaac sings.

“If only it’d be that easy.” His father chimes in.

“Ain’t you a sour ol’ man.” Isaac might have been more well mannered than your usual outlaw but he was still an outlaw, and a 16 year old boy at that.

“Let the kid dream.” Sebastian mocks him and Arthur can’t help but scoff: two against one it ain’t a fair fight!

“Ah! Maybe you’re right.” He gives in.

“Thank you, Seb.”

“Seb?!” He’s thrown in on a loop, where that come from? Isaac? And the man in question laughs, loudly. He feels like he’s missing something. “You gonna start calling him Daddy soon?” Sebastian can’t handle it, he’s bent over the neck of the stallion he just got back on, laughing hysterically:

“I ain’t no Daddy-” Sebastian wheezes through tears.

“Yeah, well the kid’s clearly adopted you as a parent.” And with those words from his father Isaac nods, entirely proud of the mess he’s put both of ‘em in. Boy’s becoming a conman like his Uncle Hosea and Arthur ain’t sure if he should be proud or terrified.

“Holy shit-” he’s still chuckling. “I sure am glad I met the both of you.” But it dies down soon enough and tone becomes almost melancholic. “I haven’t laughed like that in a long time.”

The shift’s so sudden that his stomach ends up dropping and a urge to go up and meet that sadness with some physical comfort takes over him:

“Sebastian-” A hand on the man’s knee.

“Now let’s see if how the police’ll be seeing us when we walk in.” the man continues, pulling on the reins.

Just a little bit left behind, Arthur’s last to get back into saddle and spur Ghost to follow suit.

He’s paying attention to everything, especially the lawmen; he bids them good day and they ain’t lookin’ like they recognize him, or Sebastian for that matter. So, Mister Valentini was keeping his lil’ dirty secrets hidden well. At one point against his better judgement he asks one if he’s seen any Pinkertons around. Surprisingly he said he hasn’t. He’s gaining confidence.

And he’d strut into that police station of it wouldn’t fill him with some form of bitter taste; that’s where Abigail told him Jack was taken, and now looking at that poster: Lemoyne Raider Commander, Lindsey Wofford. Bounty 100$. It ain’t no easy task... He shoots a glance back at Isaac; the kid takes the poster and the lawman that was watching almost let out an audible gasp:

“You going after Lindsey Wofford?”

“Might be.” Arthur replies.

“With a kid? You know he’s-”

“Mind your own business, mister.” Isaac’s voice cuts like a knife.

He understands; a hand presses on the boy’s shoulder. He’s smart, real smart and that makes him angry now, but for all that’s good in this world-

“You don’t have to do this.” Sebastian says not even one step outside.

“I want to.” Isaac intervenes.

Arthur holds him back with a firm hand: “Then you better keep your wits about ye’rself, boy.”

And the kid lets his head fall forward with a sigh: “Of course, Pa.”

With a breath sucked in between teeth Arthur climbs back into saddle: “Now it says the bastard’s up by the Mossy Flats.”

“It’s up past BlueWater Marsh.” Sebastian spoke, while at the same time pinning him with a concerned look.

And maybe this ain’t the best judgement or even the best Arthur’s capable of, but he’s thinkin’ it’d be a good lesson for the kid. Revenge is a fool’s game and Isaac must learn that; the sooner the better.

“Isaac.” He speaks up. “Listen here, this ain’t about revenge.”

“We’re in for the money?” Isaac, while sounding absolutely livid, was uncertain.

“Yeah, but that ain’t it, kid.”

“I don’t get it...”

“You might end up workin’ as a bounty hunter so don’t you get ye’r head wrapped up in ye’r work.” Boy doesn’t reply. “Isaac, I know they hurt you-”

“They shot you!” Isaac completely loses his temper there. “You almost died- I’d kill Colm O’Driscoll myself for what’s-”

“Isaac.” The name falls stern, yet not uncaringly from his lips.

“Take a deep breath.” Sebastian chimes in; boy nods, listens.

“Revenge ain’t worth the price.” Arthur continues.

Isaac sniffs in a sob; he rode just a bit ahead so they can’t see his face: “They can’t take you from me... They took Momma away-Who am I gonna have then...”

“You got the gang-”

“The gang ain’t been there!” Another fierce burst. Then silence. “Remember that time I caught fever while out in the desert, Pa? In new Austin?”

“Yeah, I remember...” It was about two years ago, kid got bitten by something and went down with shivers and fever.

“You collected those herbs, ginseng was it, and brought me into that town, Armadillo. You were there. I thought-” Boy’s clearly crying at this point. “Thought I’d die.”

It lasted 2 whole days, and Arthur’s been scared the whole entire time, holding the boy’s hand through it all, wet compresses on the forehead and all that.

“I ain’t letting you die, Isaac.” He says then.

“Neither am I.” cuts the boy with absolute resolution.

Sebastian was quiet throughout all of this, but Arthur had a hunch that if he was to say something it’d be about not letting either of ‘em die, and that’s just ‘cause he did it multiple times already. And if they weren’t at a gallop he’d stretch out his hand to the man.

Instead: “And I guess Sebastian ain’t gonna wanna see you gone either kid.”

“And don’t forget yourself, Arthur.”

“That’s a work in progress.” He tries a chuckle, to lift up the gloom over the boy’s shoulders. It ain’t working.

A song it be; Arthur starts: “I left my home to seek my fame, I traveled in a wagon train... Gold, gold, gotta have gold.”

Sebastian chimes into the chorus soon after, and he’s got quite the singing voice that man:

“Gold, gold, gotta have gold. Gold, gold, gotta have gold. Gold, gold, gotta have gold.”

They paused to let the kid have the next verse; a sigh, then: “So many joined this gold rush craze and hundreds came here everyday...”

And then together again: “Gold, gold, gotta have gold. Gold, gold, gotta have gold. Gold, gold, gotta have gold.”

The road ain’t as dreary then, so they keep up with the singing for a while. It started smelling like rain, skies grew darker and there’s thunder up ahead as they cross to Roanoke Ridge. They follow the road nearing the Kamassa River until they come across a fort. And that’s certainly looking like the place a rogue private militia’d be hiding into.

Here goes nothing.

Arthur takes out the rolling block riffle, checks for bullets: 16 left. The repeater’s out as well in case they need more bullets, that’s got roughly 50, but that he hands Isaac. Pistol and revolver ammo checked:

“Before we head in, everyone’s got enough bullets?” Arthur calls out.

“Got some to spare for the revolver?” Sebastian asks and Arthur hands him  a full cartridge. A nod as acceptance.

“Isaac, you cover us from behind.”

It’s the Lemoyne Raiders, there’s gonna be plenty of them. An absent minded touch of the necklace. And in they went.

He almost instantly stops to turn back to Isaac: they got a gatling gun-

“Shit they’re here for Wofford!” People already gather, race to the gun.

Sebastian takes care that the first one that tries to man it falls down from the palisade onto the ground. Another one makes an attempt and that’s Arthur’s to dispose of. Still all three of them are ducked behind a bag-wall, only dipping up when aiming.

Isaac was getting good at this; saw the ones hiding in the ground-level cabin, shot the first one right in the chest, the other he didn’t get to, hid back inside. But that man’s head still peeked up. With a well placed shot he could get him- He did. Isaac moved to the other side: to the people that dared climb downstairs. Sebastian was mowing down those still on the palisades. 3 more left. Consecutive headshots.

Another reload, but the air turned quiet.

“That all of ‘em?” Isaac asked.

“Keep your guard up; there might be more out and about.” Sebastian warns, getting up, cautious at first. “Can I have the poster?”

“Sure,” they gotta find that Lindsey bastard among all these corpses; first he stares at the printed mug for a bit before handing the paper over. “I’ll go check upstairs.” After all Sebastian still had his leg wounded. He should maybe have a look at that after all this is over. But first, smile and praise for Isaac: “Good job, kid. You were real calm, real collected.”

Isaac’s face splits with a smile: “I did it for you, Pa!” Boy jumps up: “Ya’ hear that bastards! That was for my Pa!”

Arthur can’t help the chuckle: boy took revenge and made into an homage. Boy’s real smart. So exceptionally smart and a father’s heart swells inside his chest: he ain’t deserving such a good kid, but now that he’s got him it’s making him real proud.

Okay, but they still need to find the Lindey feller- was that him? He turns the bearded corpse over; it’s looking like him. Up on his shoulder the body goes with a huff, and Arthur makes his sluggish descent.

“Think I found him-” A thud as the corpse’s thrown to the ground.

“Looks like him.” Sebastian said.

“Then let’s get the bastard back to Saint Denis-”

His voice is covered up by the roar of thunder. Downpour comes not even a moment later. They gotta take cover but there ain’t no way they’re gonna sit here just in case the Raiders get back to find their beloved Commander’s met his maker.

It takes ‘em about 10 minutes to get to a small disheveled house right on the shore of the Kamassa River. They’re all soaked to the bone so the first thing they do is to get a fire going inside and take their clothes off and hang ‘em up to dry. The bounty’s hidden behind some crates, covered so it doesn’t rot

It’s got something about it; the way all three of ‘em are bare-chested ‘round a fire, sharing some dry meat and crackers. It’s got something that reminds of family.

“Maybe we should’o’ kept the sturgeon.” Sebastian chaffs, barely averting is gaze from slipping towards Arthur; and he can’t say he ain’t in the same situation. It’s both lust and worry, ‘cause the man still had deep running cuts along his entire body.

Lips purse and he sits with a biscuit in his hand, not replying, ending up thinking of it all. Today felt good. The fishing, even the whole bounty hunt, and now this moment, that’s feeling too tender to be all real, yet somehow, here they are two men and a boy, ‘round the fire with rain still pouring on outside like it ain’t ever rained. Kinda like the situation they were in: the camp was a mess... That whole thing was a mess...

“I think he fell asleep, Seb.” Isaac whispers to the man.

Arthur blinks a few times, pops the biscuit in his mouth, but one look at Sebastian and the man was pretending to be asleep in solidarity. He winked and Isaac shoved him. Both of them laughed, but the boy just pouted with raised eyebrows.

He’s handsome like this. He’s handsome anyhow, but with a smile on his face and flames dancing on his skin, he’s making that poor foolish heart of his thump against his ribs and breath rise shallow from his chest.

Isaac looks at both of them: “Well since you’re both already fast asleep I guess I’m gonna join.” He sits up and goes to look for a blanket or something that’s dry. Thankfully whoever died in this house decided it ain’t worth taking the blankets with them so the boy wraps himself up in them. “Goodnight!”

Arthur scoffs: “Goodnight, kid.” He rubs the boy’s back leaning over to him. “You did real good today. I’m proud of you.”

Isaac hums, sinking deeper in the blanket.

And when he swings his body back into a sitting position he discovers Sebastian looking at him like he’s the whole entire world, chin resting in one hand and eyes soft as ever, dripping with tenderness - and a pinch of lust. And he lunges like a cat towards Arthur, hands pawing at him, luring him in and dragging him closer. He soon finds himself on top of Sebastian, almost fearing he’s crushing him.

It’s a strange feeling, sweaty, drenched skin sticking to each other, chests rhythmically rising and falling together, seemingly faster and faster. A moments silence where all there is was that look Sebastian gave him with breath hitched, before he runs fingers through the other’s hair. And he leans into the touch ever so slightly.

“Arthur-” it’s so soft; he’s a sinner to this saint and yet that’s how he calls out his name. It makes him grind his hips upwards: “Umgh--”

Arthur promptly covers his mouth.

And Sebastian, spins him ‘round, to then straddle him underneath him.

“Se-” He don’t get to finish; the rest of the name in a breath given to the man’s mouth when it falls onto his own. Breath fastens; kiss deepens. Sebastian pins his arms above his head and Arthur’s feeling tight at the navel-

“Outside...” Sebastian whispers against his lips. Promise and incentive.

Then he’s up.

 Rain is still pouring outside, but it ain’t like it’s gonna matter, Sebastian spins him round, lifts his arms against his head again and mouth’s on his mouth again, rough and hungry:

“You’ve been teasing me all fucking day-” Sebastian grunts against his beard; man’s hands cup the sides of his body, running up, stopping on his chest with thumbs on the nipples.

He ain’t known those could go hard as well, or feel so pleasant under touch like that. He bites his lips as not to moan. Rain soaks them through once again while the kissing and the fondling continues, with only pants to give away what’s been doing to them. That and the legs that part beneath Sebastian and arms that pull him closer in by the waist and have him grind up against him.

“You want that-” Sebastian coos by his ear, voice heavy, husky, a rumble tumbling out like the thunder outside

“Thought you was curious to find out.” He can’t handle what this feeling’s doing to him; teeth graze along the man’s bearded jaw.

A groan; he unbuckles Arthur’s belt and shoves a hand right between his thighs, cupping his cock into his palm. And Arthur has to throw his head back with a grunt at the sensation, it itches between his legs and up his navel. With thumb still coiled ‘round his now throbbing erection, fingers slip up, searching for the crack. He involuntarily bucks his hips forward, letting man access it. The one digit’s button presses against his hole and moves in a circle. Eyes are closed; Sebastian’s panting against his neck. Muscles contract and relax and that’s all he’s focusing on before the hand retracts to get lubricated by spit.

It’s promptly back, but this time Sebastian’s down on his knees: one hand teasing his ass, the other his cock, thin, wet lips fawning over the tip of his cock. Arthur’s knees are weak, trembling already and the knot that’s nested in his guts begs for touch. His own palm sneaks into Sebastian’s hair, grips, coaxes the head to move forward, put that damn mouth round his cock.

“Oh-” it’s soft, not loud and still that one free hand he has goes to cover his mouth. ‘cause he moans into it, muffled, when finger shoves up his anus, mouth working his length like it’s candy, tongue on the underside, firm against the ridge, making pleasure crawl up sweet.

A second finger slips in; the pain makes him bite his lips hard and fast, mid moan, and that sound escapes shamefully; the hand meant to muffle it swats to the side, grabbing onto the wooden paneling. There’s so much going on between his goddamn legs he ain’t ever felt as weak, or good. And it builds and builds. Hand grips the wall tighter, teeth keep biting down.

And Sebastian finds a spot within him, rubbing fingers firm against him in such a manner that he can’t help it:

“There- AUGH-” Mouth’s covered, shots fired. “Shit!” Hands rush to cup Sebastian’s face. Man swallows and looks up at him with a crooked expression of satisfaction: “You goddamn-” His fingers are still deep inside Arthur, and when he moves them the other arm reaches up to cover the man’s mouth before the boy realizes what was going on.

And he’s pinned there until Sebastian has his way with him: pace quick and rough and despite flacid the knot builds up again just as fast, in ever higher, waves. He can barely hold himself up at this point. There-There-There!...

This time it shakes his body from his core. Sebastian ends up holding him within his arms, against the wall. Christ what’s he done to him. Arthur can’t even catch his breath.

“I made sure you’ll be sore tomorrow.” A kiss on his cheek.

Arthur chuckles; he’s already kinda feeling it: “Bastard.”

Sebastian just smirks; and he’s still hard.

A few more pants till he gets his strength back up before it’s his time to straddle the man against paneling. He ain’t quite as delicate or as skilled, but Christ A’mighty he’s trying his best: a few rough strokes down the length of the man’s cock, before he bends down and swaddles the tip with his lips. Tongue rolls ‘round it and over, then head dips down the shaft, gaining himself a big gasp form Sebastian. And he likes hearing that. He reckons he found the rarest of sounds: the moan of a man in that lolls his head backwards, lips half open, hand to cover them. And he feels like he learned a thing or two, tries to replicate the motions Sebastian practiced on him just earlier and man exercises the same control over his skull, bobbing it up and down with on hand clenched into his hair. And he’s barely got the motions proper when he feels cum fill up his mouth: sticky, salty, tasting more or less like roe. It’s hard to swallow, takes a few tries ‘cause it stuck to the roof of his mouth, but when he’s done he finds himself roaming Sebastian’s body with his hands. From the hips up, lulling the man around, as close as possible, letting his breath roll heavy on the side of his neck.

Sebastian’s arms are wrapped around his wet back. It’s still pouring. Hair is sticking to skin, that’s threatening to get cold any minute now. But they don’t let go of each other. Almost naked, pants hanging low between their legs, they’re pressed against the wall, panting and not speaking one more word; Sebastian’s simply drawing circles on his back.

Exhaustion gets to him soon as he stands there; the cold too, and still he finds himself cupping Sebastian’s face, running thumbs down his cheeks, head still pressed to his forehead. And only after he’s done feeling the realness of this, the realness of him, that he’s there and that he’s Arthur’s to have as company does he whisper:

“Let’s get ourselves warm.”