Requests Closed! Masterlist 🌹'Written by me' - writing tag 🌹 British Female 🌹 Nerd 🌹Hopeful Writer 🌹Gamer🌹 Arthur Morgan 🌹 Mafia 🌹 Generally Nuckin Futz! 🌹
then a kiss on your palm, his whiskers scratchy against it as he brought it to cradle his face.
saying goodbye to arthur was never easy. tears welled up the moment he approached his mount. the silhouette of him walking from you was almost too much to bare, and dripped down your face in silent runs.
“sweet girl.” he’d say scoldingly when he turned around to see you, though his turquoise eyes swam with softness. “crying for me.”
he’d press his mouth against the tears in gentle kisses. then, mounted with his dark hat shadowing the panes of his face, he’d begin the ritual worship of your hands. he was leaning down towards you now, eyes closed as he savored the feeling of your hand against his cheek.
“i love you, darlin’. you know that.” he’d say this with his eyes still closed, as if he was feeling your love in his very bones.
you did, and you loved him. desperately. hungrily. with every cell in your body and without a moment’s doubt. you loved the outlaw like he was god. all of these thoughts raced through your head but you could only reply with, “come back to me in one piece. ill hunt you down after a fortnight.”
his eyes would open then, sparkling with humor. “you promise?”
you’d kiss him through his scratching laugh.
the days would pass painfully slow. laundry was scrubbed, a shirt of his nearly pressed and starched for him and hung in the closet. bread was baked and ate alongside a solitary bowl of stew. the small cabin you had for yourself become a prison. the days you spent with friends in town were the only reprieve.
but when he came back to you… oh lord, when he came back to you.
you’d spot him on the horizon. he galloped towards you with an eagerness that made you laugh. the book you clutched as comfort was thrown onto the floor as you barreled out the front door and down the steps.
and there he was, dirty and sweat-stained, smelling like gunpowder and coffee.
and there he was, taking you in his arms and bringing you close, breathing your name like a healing prayer.
Request- I NEED ARTHUR TO STEAL DUTCHS GIRL AND SHOW HER A REAL MANS LOVING. FILTHY PASSIONATE LOVING. WORK YOUR MAGIC
A/N- I got incredibly carried away with this. Is basically prawn with no plot honestly. And far softer smut than I think you intended it to be but. Here we are. Enjoy.
Warnings- 18+ | implied toxic relationship ( reader is in love with Dutch van der Linde what can you expect here ), smut: affair, Arthur being desperate to please!!!, fingering, oral ( reader receiving ) , unprotected p in v and he accidentally finishes inside oops, like the tiniest amount of cockwarming ( WC-8.9k )
AO3 | Masterlist - requests are open :)
Arthur didn’t involve himself in Dutch’s relationships. He stayed polite to whatever young woman he had hanging off his arm at the time, but that was about it. He’d seen too many girls come and go- usually in floods of tears at being dismissed by the man that had seduced and charmed them into loving him. Just working his way through shiny new plaything to plaything, hiding his unending sorrow for Annabelle under the skirt of some new girl.
Unfortunately you were no different.
In your defence, he supposed, you had lasted far longer than the rest. The only real exception to that being the famed Annabelle herself. But as was almost inevitable, your time in the honeymoon phase was slowly crumbling down around you.
Arthur did wonder if it was simply because of the current stress levels in camp. They had all been on the run for longer than he cared to try and count, but after the mess in Blackwater they had reached new heights of being hunted. It had never been this bad. Nothing had ever gone this wrong. Because before everything had gone to complete shit, he’d actually seemed quite taken with you. In truth Arthur actually had begun to consider the idea that Dutch really did love you. Had finally been able to move on from the weight on his heart of his dead lover.
But no.
Arthur was observing the same pattern as always, it had just taken far longer with you. And that just seemed to make it all the more cruel.
He barely even looked at you most days now. Barely uttered a few words in return to any question you asked.
And the arguing was growing ever more fierce. It was practically everyday.
Arthur didn’t like it. Didn’t like the way Dutch treated you. Didn’t like the way Dutch was treating anyone lately. But you in particular had never been anything but nice to him, kind. Sweet. Incredibly naive but sweet. To Arthur too. Some of the girls Dutch had strung along had been vile, rude and entitled and stuck up. But you? You were a genuinely nice person it seemed. And maybe that was your greatest flaw, for someone like that did not belong with Dutch Van Der Linde.
In fact Arthur had come to like you from a distance. The times he had spoken to you you had been interesting, intelligent. Far cleverer than him and he had always liked that in a woman if he was honest.
But still you clung to Dutch. Though your patience with him of late seemed to finally be wearing thin.
Dutch had never really been one to be ashamed or afraid of airing his dirty laundry within the gang. Whether that be packing on the PDA in camp in a way that often made Arthur want to vomit up his breakfast, or the even more puke inducing sounds of the two of you making up all night long. So arguing was no exception to that either.
And today was no different.
“ you barely even look at me! I’m right here! I always have been, I’ve always been such a good girl haven’t I? I do as you say. And look at how you repay me! “ Arthur sighed as he dropped a stack of bills into the box, successfully recovering yet another of Strauss’ debts for him. You were both screaming at each other again, the tent flaps pulled down as if that would over any form of soundproofing. It was the camp's regular ambience now it seemed.
He did feel sorry for you, he really did. You’d left everything you had for Dutch. Some beautiful, intelligent, well spoken girl. Heiress to her daddy’s mining fortune up north, used to the finer things but seeking some adventure. And Dutch had offered you both. Drowned you in jewels and gifts- though unlike the ones you had once owned the ones he gave were not his to give- Shown you off like a shiny new toy on his arm. Expressly informed Miss Grimshaw that you were not to be lifting a finger, that you would not have to earn your keep with chores like the others.
You earned your keep by looking beautiful beside him, by boosting his ego with your constant devotion to him, by letting Dutch use you for his own source of pleasure and by the sounds of things- that Arthur truly had no choice but to overhear- not getting very much back in return.
“ You know I don’t think I’ve ever met a more selfish woman in my life! “ Arthur sighed and sat down on his cot, debating whether or not to make some attempt to get the sleep he had been planning the entire long journey back to Clemens Point. But his tent was but a stone's throw from Dutch’s.
“ I have needs too Dutch Van Der Linde!” Everyone else in camp didn’t seem to mind it though, most of them preparing to settle in for the night. Whether that be passing out on their bedrolls or drinking by the fire. But Arthur wasn’t sure he could put up with another moment of the damn yelling.
“ oh? You have needs? “ Dutch’s voice was condescending. Mocking “ I give you everything! You are acting like a spoiled child”
“ a child? A child!? “ Arthur stood back up again, deciding he’d fare better trying to sleep on the damn ground rather than next to the likes of you and Dutch. So he headed out towards the edge of camp, hiding himself in the woods by the water. He slumped down against a tree with a heavy sigh and wished he’d thought to pick up a bottle of beer on the way.
But it was no matter. He was far enough away that he couldn’t hear the fighting anymore, but close enough that if he was needed anyone calling his name would be heard.
He looked out across the water, enjoying his rare moment of peace. It was a clear night and a full moon, the reflection bouncing off the water in the most beautiful way. He pulled out his journal and started to sketch it, wishing he could capture its beauty better.
‘ Dutch and the girl were arguing again. Got out of earshot for a bit to try catch some sleep. Thought the water and the moon looked mighty pretty ‘
He scrawled underneath when he was done, tucking it back into the satchel discarded at his side. Javier's guitar had silenced back in camp now and he figured everyone had gone off to bed. But he was quite content there by the water, so dropped his hat over his face and settled in to try and catch a few hours himself.
He was just dozing off when he heard the sound of boots marching quickly through the undergrowth, snapping twigs as they went. And then the soft sound of someone mumbling to themselves. He silently hoped whoever it was would keep well away from him. But the boots grew nearer and came to a halt not so far away. The crackle of a match being lit and a heavy sigh.
“ thinks he can talk to me like that? Bastard. Bastard he is. I’m a lady I deserve better than. Than that “
You.
He cleared his throat lightly to inform you that he was there, but unfortunately still seemed to startle you.
“ Christ! Gave me a damn heart attack Arthur “ he placed his hat down with his satchel with a sigh and looked up at you. In the light of the moon reflecting off the water he could see your cheeks were tear stained, the glow of the end of your cigarette illuminating your face further and showing your makeup in streaks.
He couldn’t lie that it made his heart ache for you. He didn’t particularly have any solid feelings for you, but he did feel sorry for you. It was hard not to feel sorry for the woman seduced by Dutch.
And you truly were a cut above the rest in his opinion. Beautiful as the early morning sun and, when you weren’t screaming at Dutch, as kind and warm as it too. But maybe that was fitting. Because much like the sun you could bask people in warmth, but burn them too. Beautiful and bright but scalding and he found he couldn’t look at you for too long, no matter how many times he wanted too. Simply blinding his eyes with your flaming beauty and having to turn away.
But maybe he was just getting caught up in his metaphors.
“ shouldn’t be out this far from camp “ you simply shrugged, taking another drag of your cigarette “ ain’t no one nice lingerin’ in woods at night miss” even if no Lemoyne raiders were sneaking around the trees, there were plenty of species of wildlife that would happily do a number on you. Chew off a leg or bite you with poison fangs. You didn’t know how to take care of yourself. You couldn’t handle a gun, didn’t have a single survival instinct in you.
Dutch had quite made sure of that, he’d heard you ask once or twice. And had been denied. Charming you with some string of words about how you were far too delicate to be handling a gun. To leave it for the men.
“ you’re lingering in the woods aren’t you Mr Morgan? “ he chuckled and shrugged.
“ and I ain’t that nice. Point proven lady “
“ not like Dutch would care if someone took me anyway. He’d probably be thankful “ your voice was hoarse from the shouting and he couldn’t tell if you were going to cry again or not. You took a long drag of your cigarette before seeming to suddenly remember something, dipping your hand into the waistband of your skirt and pulling out a pack “ sorry my manners. Want one? “ he took one with a nod of thanks “ can I sit? “
You sat down carefully beside him then with a long sigh, tucking your legs beneath you, and leant forward so he could light the cigarette between his lips with the end of yours.
“ thanks “ you both sat quietly for a short while. Smoking and watching the ripples in the water. He didn’t mind it actually, as much as he had been slightly annoyed at you disturbing his attempt to sleep. You were decent company.
You rarely strayed from Dutch’s side, but on the odd occasion you had and Arthur had stumbled upon you having a moment to yourself at the edge of camp it had been quite nice. So he didn’t mind sitting there with you, company. For you both.
“ I think you’re nice. By the way “ you said to break the silence, refrenching his previous comment of bad men lingering in the woods.
“ No offense to you Miss, but you’re in love with old Dutch. I don’t think you’re particularly qualified to be sayin’ whether folk is nice or not “ he said it teasingly in some hopes of making you smile. And it did. A little.
“ maybe not “ he watched you bring your cigarette to your lips again, glancing at your hands. Nails perfectly trimmed and not a single speck of dirt or sign of a scar. Hands that had never had to lift a finger. Ever. It was an interesting contrast to his own. Calloused and scarred and bruised “ but Dutch he… he…Can I ask you something? “
“ Sure “ he said and flicked his cigarette away.
“ Do you think I’m beautiful Arthur? “ you asked meekly. Your face was sad. Lingering innocence yet to be wiped away by life somehow, the kind that only remained because you had lived a life so sheltered. Even with Dutch you were as sheltered as could be “ and don’t lie. Please “
“ I think you’re beautiful, sure “ you turned back to the water again, tossing your own cigarette before promptly lighting another.
“ Dutch doesn’t. Not anymore. Barely even looks at me “ Arthur ran a hand over his face, not entirely sure what he was supposed to say to you in the situation. At all “ I know I know I don’t expect you to agree. You two you’re…you’re like two peas in a pod aren’t you? “ you said with a small laugh, but it held no humour. You took a long drag of your cigarette.
“ me and Dutch it’s… we go back a long way. But… I will agree the way he’s been treatin’ you. Ain't nice. Not when you done nothin’ but be loyal to him for so long “ you turned back to him again and gave a small smile. It was like a wave of relief had washed right over you.
Someone was finally listening.
“ I think he’s got his eyes on Mary-Beth “ you mumbled, red stained lips wrapping around your cigarette again. Much like how he had found himself admiring your hands he now found himself admiring your lips. Soft and plump and stained red in the way they often were.
He blamed it on his fatigue.
“ he’d be a fool to give you up. You’re kind, loyal, hell you might jus’ be the most beautiful woman I know. He’s in a weird place right now. He’ll snap outta it, be back to readin’ you Evelyn Miller in no time. You’ll see “ maybe the last part wasn’t entirely true. But the first part was. And you seemed to bask in his compliments. He wondered when the last time Dutch had said something nice to you had actually been.
“ Thank you “ you looked as though you might cry again. And he really hoped you wouldn’t. He didn’t like to see you cry. And he really wouldn’t know what to say to you then. Once again you turned your attention back to the water and gave a small sigh “ maybe I chose the wrong outlaw “ you said with a small laugh “ always have thought you were quite handsome “
He nearly choked on his own saliva, clearing his throat in hopes to pass it out smoothly. He didn’t know if it had worked.
“ Really? “
“ Hmm “ you mused, tilting your head inquisitively to the side “ but you were oh so hung up on that Mary girl when I found Dutch”
“ Yeah well. Mary she’s- that’s all done with now “ maybe Mary was the reason he seemed to sympathise with you so. Because he too had had a broken heart. Though he was sure his was not as brutal as yours.
“ Guess we both have bad taste don’t we Mr Morgan “ he chuckled and nodded.
“ That we do miss. That we do “ he placed a gentle hand to your shoulder and squeezed in some form of comfort “ don’t worry bout Dutch though. Really. He’ll come to his senses and if…if he don’t then. Any man would be lucky to have ya “ you sniffled and he figured you’d started crying again “ I didn’t mean to upset- “
“ No. No I’m fine. It’s just…you mean it all don’t you? All these kind words? “ he shrugged and then nodded.
“ Sure I do. You’re a beautiful woman. Inside an out “ something seemed to flash across your face, a million and one things whirring away behind your eyes. He’d never been that good at reading people, never one for knowing what people were thinking. And the look on your face was the most confusing he’d ever seen.
The next part happened far too quickly for him to process it. Maybe because he was tired, maybe because he truly hadn’t even slightly suspected you to do it. You flicked away the butt of your cigarette and leaned forward, one hand to his leg and the other to his neck. And kissed him.
He was taken aback and you pulled away before he could make any attempt to figure out what you’d just done.
“ Sorry “ you sighed in slight annoyance, seemingly at yourself, sitting back beside him again. Like it was no big deal. Just something that had happened and had no real consequence “ shit- sorry “ Arthur scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and shrugged with a small laugh. Attempting to play it as cool as you clearly were.
Maybe he’d finally cracked and entered some weird fatigue induced psychosis, hallucinations and hearing voices. And kissing Dutch’s woman.
“ S’okay. No harm done “ he was bewildered. Trying to process the last 30 seconds and coming up completely blank.
“ Just the way you talk about me I- Lord forgive me “ he was certain he must have looked half dense. Still completely confused at what on earth was happening with you. And maybe, just maybe, a tiny bit flustered at having a woman like you kiss him. Even if you were begging the Lord for forgiveness right after it “ no one’s spoken to me like that in a long time and…and I wish they had. I want to be told I’m beautiful again. I want to be kissed. I want I want…I want a lot of things “
Maybe Arthur was a stupid, idiotic fool. Maybe too many gunshot wounds and bumps to the head had finally caught up to him. Maybe he too wanted to act on his ever growing annoyance with how Dutch was behaving. But he found himself reaching out, fingers tucking under your chin to turn your face to look at him. Your eyes were so beautiful up close. Practically sparkling in the moonlight.
Oh he was such a fool.
“ could’a jus’ asked “ a small smile tugged at your lips and you laughed a little.
“ Yeah. Of course. Because you’d have said yes Arthur? “ he shrugged. He didn’t know if he would’ve actually. But now the thought was in his head “ alright “ you whispered and shuffled a little closer to him “ indulge me “
His thumb was absentmindedly brushing over your jaw, looking at you in the light of the moon and wondering how on earth Dutch wasn’t constantly begging for your attention. If he had a woman like you constantly hanging off his every word he wouldn’t know how to act. Would be like a mangy dog trailing around after you for food.
“ I might’ve “ you gave a roll of your eyes but you were smiling still, a beautiful, tempting smile.
You were a temptress. A siren. Luring him in with your beauty to do something terrible. And you were vulnerable. Sad and seeking appreciation. And he was truly debating it.
“ Well…“ you started quietly, looking up at him through your long lashes in a way that made his chest go tight “ there is… still time for you to say yes “
“ we ain’t gonna tell no one bout this y’hear? This it’s… it’s jus’ between me and you. Okay? “ your eyebrows furrowed for a second looking up at him intently, as if trying to figure out if he was joking or not. If he was serious. He wasn’t entirely sure himself, needed you to agree or disagree to put the thought to rest. His thumb continued to brush along your jaw tenderly and your eyes fell closed for a moment.
How long had it been since someone had touched you with such care? That something as simple as that seemed to mean so much to you.
“ I understand “ you whispered, eyes flickering down to his lips again. He pulled you in close, barely an inch between your lips and then spoke again “ you’ll give me what I want? Don’t treat me like him “
“ Anythin’ ya want. You got it. I’ll give ya what you deserve “ you let a shuddering breath escape and gave a small nod before closing the gap between you both again.
He hadn’t kissed anyone in a while, but he sure found his footing quickly. You kissed him like he was your source of air, climbing your way into his lap and slipping your hands into his hair. You tasted of cigarette smoke and something almost sweet. Whatever it was, it was an intoxicating mix. You were like a siren singing your call in his ear, drawing him in and taking him for your own. The weight of you in his lap was almost familiar, welcoming. Just… nice.
He had almost forgotten just how fun it was to kiss a woman. How so many men seemed to shun it as boring, pointless- Dutch obviously included. But Arthur had always loved it. Had spent many a night as a youngster sneaking his way into Mary’s room just to kiss her. To spend hours kissing and talking and kissing some more.
Kissing you was something else. Addictive. Intoxicating.
Eventually he had to pull away, his lungs screaming at him for air. Your hands slipped out from his hair and down to grasp at the collar of his shirt, resting your forehead on his.
“ Anything I want you say? “ you asked quietly, breathless.
“ Anythin’ “ you smiled and lifted your head, a quiet determination settling over you. Your lipstick had smeared and he wondered how much of it was now on his own face.
“ okay… undress me then “ you softly commanded, shifting slightly in his lap “ please. Dutch never- he makes me do it myself, barely even looks I- Please “
He almost laughed to himself about now he immediately thought getting you naked was entirely too risky. As if the entire situation alone wasn’t risky anyway. But he didn’t want to think too hard about that, instead simply channelled his recent annoyance towards Dutch into his actions. Tried to tell himself he was doing a good thing, taking care of you.
You watched his face carefully as he gently untucked your shirt from where it was tucked into your skirt, some silky soft thing that probably cost more than everything he owned in his clothing trunk put together. He undid every pearl button slowly, eyes darting up to your face as he did. Your chest was heaving in long, heavy breaths. You were nervous. Or excited. He couldn’t tell which.
You shivered lightly when he pushed it from your shoulders, now only the soft cotton of your chemise between his hands and your chest. Your nipples had hardened, from the slight night chill or lust he couldn’t say. But he found himself unable to resist the sight, leaning forward and capturing one between his lips through the cotton. You gasped softly, a sound so beautiful it made him groan. You sounded delicate. Innocent. You’d never made such sounds when he’d overheard you with Dutch. In fact a majority of the time you almost sounded in pain.
But this sound wasn’t that. This sound was beautiful. And he wanted to hear more. One hand pushed at your back to bring you closer, the other palmed at your neglected breast in hopes you’d make the sound again. And you did. Gentle, soft gasps as his tongue dampened the material of your chemise, teeth tugging at you gently through the material. Your hand found his hair again, raking your fingers through it and arching your back into his touch.
He couldn’t imagine why Dutch had never wanted to do such a thing. How could he not want to hear you make those pretty pretty sounds? How could he not want to feel you writhing in his lap and yearning to be touched. Maybe Dutch was more of a fool than he had originally thought.
“ Need you to touch me- properly I- take this off “ your sentence was choppy, like you weren’t focussed enough to truly articulate the words you wanted to say. But he understood, pulling your chemise over your head and dropping it to land with your shirt.
He took a moment just to look at you, not even entirely because he knew you’d want him to. Just because he wanted to. He’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t wondered what was hiding under your expensive clothes once or twice. How could he not when he had to try sleep through the sounds of you and Dutch of a night.
“ God damn “ he said softly, hands soothing over your waist as you basked in his admiring stare, taking in the feeling of finally being looked at. Properly.
“ like what you see Mr Morgan “ you asked, voice sultry and low in a way that made his cock twitch in his pants.
“ Dutch is a damn fool “ is all he could say, leaning forward to kiss you again, his hands moving to grab at your chest. You moaned into the kiss as he squeezed and massaged your breasts with his large hands, seizing the opportunity to dip his tongue into the warmth of your mouth. Your fingers in his hair, twisting strands around your fingers and tugging lightly. He felt like he was on cloud nine. Certain he’d somehow taken a stumble through the veil and ended up at heaven's gates.
He wasn’t a particularly religious man, but the way he was prepared to worship and praise you could truly be considered blasphemous.
He couldn’t resist the temptation of getting his mouth on you again much longer, dragging his lips from yours and wrapping them around a pebbled nipple instead. You rolled your hips against him, those beautiful soft moans still falling past your lips. This was what you had wanted from him. To be worshipped. To be looked at as the beautiful temptress of a woman you were. And not merely glanced at and then used like some two dollar whore in a saloon.
He wanted to nip at your skin, bite and soothe it with his tongue. But he knew he couldn’t. Couldn’t risk Dutch seeing it if he felt the need to stop ignoring you for a short while for his own needs. But oh how he wanted to. To mark up your smooth skin with reminders that you were desired. That you could look at as they faded and be reminded that you were wanted.
“ I need more “ you whispered “ Arthur please. Give me more “ another roll of your hips followed by a small whimper told him enough.
“ I know I got ya “ he murmured against your skin, pressing kisses up your sternum and your neck. Nose brushing at the underside of your jaw and working his way back to your lips again “ stand up. Lemme get you out of these damn clothes “ he caught the smile on your face as you stood up, he stayed seated and ran his hands over the fabric covering your hips. Something seemed to blaze in your eyes as you looked down on him. He realised it was most probably you that was usually being leered down on, but not now.
Not with him. Not with Arthur. Arthur looked up at you like the goddess you were, looked up at you with what he knew was a silent pleading in his eyes. Dutch would never ask he knew it. Dutch took. Stole. Used. Arthur didn’t. Wouldn’t.
“ I like how you look at me “ you said quietly, hand soothing over his hair “ you make me feel beautiful “
“ Cause y’are “ he murmured, hands reaching to the ties of your skirt. He wanted to see more. Wanted to see all of you.
You helped him with the slightly tedious task of getting your skirts and undergarments off, but all so slowly. Taking his time. Making sure he appreciated every single layer of clothing you removed for him, right down to unlacing your boots and holding your leg gently to help you out of them. Until you stood there as naked as the day you were born, illuminated by the moonlight on the water.
“ well ain’t you a sight “
Your skin was so smooth. Soft. Not a single scar that he could see. The skin of a woman who had never had to lift a finger. Had never known the hardships that he had. The only true blemish on your skin was the almost completely faded bruises on your hips. Fingertips. Dutch.
He soothed his hands up your legs, pressing soft kisses to the pillowy flesh of your thighs as he went, and stopped as he reached them.
“ He can be a little rough. It’s how he likes it “ you answered before he could even ask. Arthur too had been known to have his rougher moments. But he could never hurt you. Never mark you in anyway other than that of affection and care.
“ I ain’t like that “
“ I know. That’s why I want you “ he pulled you back down into his lap, his large hands splaying over your hips as he took yet another moment just to look. To admire. To thank whatever stupid damn God may exist for placing such a heavenly body in his presence “ I feel a little like the odd one out here though “ you said with a small smile, tracing a finger down from the open top buttons of his shirt to his pants.
He’d been far too occupied with you to even really notice the fact that he was ridiculously overdressed in comparison.
“ Can’t have that now can we darlin’ “ your smile grew and you made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders with a gentle sigh. You ran your fingers through the hair on his chest, nails scratching lightly at his skin and peppering lipstick stained kisses as you went. Littering his collarbones, his sternum.
“ much better “ your hands kept roaming and your lips kept kissing. Hands seemingly wanting to touch him all, scratching lightly up his sides and over his waist, his stomach and his ribs. Slowly moving to slide over his shoulders and loop around his neck. You rolled your hips against him again and whined softly. He was so hard it was growing painful as he stayed restrained by his pants. But he wasn’t selfish. Not like Dutch. And he wasn’t about to seek out any form of pleasure himself until he had you seeing the stars you deserved.
“ tell me what y’want “ he murmured, peppering soft kisses across your jaw.
“ touch me “ you sighed blissfully “ please touch me “
His hand slipped down in between your bodies, brushing past the soft curls between your legs and couldn’t contain the groan of a sound that left him when he felt how warm and wet you were.
“ Christ “ he muttered as your head dropped to his shoulder with a shuddering breath “ he ever touch you like this? “ he asked lowly, already knowing the answer. Why would he? He didn’t get anything out of it.
But Arthur did. Oh Arthur did.
“ no “ you whispered “ no never…please. More “ he tested the waters, pressing lightly against your clit and revelling in the squeak of a sound that it caused you to make.
“ or like this? " You shook your head again, breathing shakily as he dragged his finger through the wetness and drew light circles around your entrance.
“ Arthur “ you moaned his name in the most delicious way as he pushed his finger inside, burying it to the knuckle
“ yeah and what about this darlin? “ he again knew the answer. Dutch didn’t care about your pleasure. Didn’t care about wasting time on something as simple as making you whimper and whine for more “ he touch you like this? “
“ no “
“ think ya can take one more for me? “ you nodded again and he withdrew his finger, gathering your slick on his other before pushing them both past the resistance of your entrance “ that’a girl “ he pumped his fingers in and out steadily, curling and probing at your velvety soft walls to test what you liked.
“ This is so… oh god. This isn’t proper at all “ you laughed slightly, melting into a soft moan. Arthur chuckled, lifting your face up so you’d look at him.
“ Ain’t proper at all? It’s damn right filthy darlin” your cheeks were aflame and you closed your eyes for a moment, grinding yourself against his hand “ look at ya. Drippin all over ma fingers like that. Ain’t proper. Not one bit “ you smiled, a cheeky, devious smile that made him lean forward and kiss you again.
You were so wet it was obscene. He couldn’t tell where the sounds of you kissing stopped and the sopping sounds of his fingers began. You continued to grind down against his palm, practically riding his fingers, his whole hand wet and sticky with you.
And he wanted to taste it. To taste you. To flood his mouth with the slick, liquid gold covering his fingers. It was an almost primal desire, like a desperation as strong as needing air. He needed to. He had to.
“ Darlin’ “ he murmured, lifting your head from where it had fallen to his neck again “ gotta let me taste you. You gotta “ the look on your face only made him want it more. Your skin flushed and eyes blown out with nothing but pure lust and desire. He’d never needed anything more. Nothing else mattered, not the painful hardness in his pants, not the realisation that you were very much Dutch’s girl. He didn’t care about any of that. He just needed to be between your thighs.
“ really? No one’s ever- oh god. Yes. Yes. Please Arthur “ he withdrew his fingers making you whimper and quickly grabbed his discarded shirt and lay it down on the ground. Then he kissed you again as he wrapped his arms around your waist, gently turning you to lay back on the shirt. It still couldn’t have been particularly comfortable. But you didn’t seem to mind, tugging at his hair and lifting your hips up against him as he hovered over you.
He took his time moving down. Leaving a long and slow trail of hot, wet, kisses on your skin. You writhed underneath him, whining softly and twisting your hands in his shirt underneath you. He took extra time with your thighs. Kissing up from the inside of your knee and stopping before he could place his mouth where he really wanted to, then repeating with the other.
“ Arthur “ you whined, still squirming around and desperate.
“ I know. I got ya. Gonna make those pretty sounds for me again yeah? "You nodded, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him as his head sank lower, spreading your legs wider to give him full access to the centre of you “ that’s a good girl “ he spread you open with his fingers, in awe of the way you parted for him. Like petals on a flower, dripping with the morning dew.
But you were far more delectable. A forbidden fruit begging to be tasted.
And oh was it pretty. Even in the dark, in nothing but the light of the moon on the water, it was pretty. Begging to be tasted, touched. Admired.
The sound you made as he dragged his tongue from your weeping hole to your clit was like music to his ears. He didn’t know how he managed to not come in his pants just at the sound of it.
You still kept it quiet, but loud enough for him.
His own, deep, guttural moan escaped from his chest as he licked again. Your taste flooding his mouth in a way so so much better than he could’ve imagined.
He ate you like he was starved. Like a savage predator that hadn’t seen meat for days, like a man ready for the gallows enjoying his last meal. His arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping your legs apart for him as you bucked and squirmed against his face. It was visceral. Carnal. You made him feel like his grip on his own composure and control was weaker than ever, that he was holding on to it with nothing but his fingertips.
“ Arthur “ he dipped his tongue into the welcoming warmth of your cunt, his eyes falling closed for a moment as he felt you clench around him, desperate for more. Desperate for him. And he would give you more, would give you anything you asked of him. But not until he made you come first.
He let go of one of your legs and brought his fingers back to their previous position, wanting to feel you again. To be inside of you, as close as he could get. To make you see stars.
The flat of his tongue found your clit again, certain he could feel you pulsing against him. Desperate and full of desire for him. He felt honoured, privileged. That you were so loyal to Dutch, glued to his side. Never even batting an eye at anyone else. And yet you had broken that for him. Had sought him out because you knew he would treat you well.
Your back arched off the ground as he sunk them back into you, slipping in with a welcome ease. His thick fingers pumped into you at a steady pace, his tongue diverting all its attention to your clit. Lapping and sucking and letting you press his face harder against you as you tugged on his hair.
“ don’t stop please dont- Arthur “ he had no intentions of stopping, none at all. In fact he simply honed in on his ministrations, working harder to push you closer and closer to the edge of the orgasm he knew you had been craving for weeks.
“ Not gonna stop darlin. Ain’t stopping until you come for me. Taste so good, so good “ he murmured against you, curling his fingers and hitting a spot that made you gasp and your body shudder “ there we go, right there “
He flicked his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves, looking at you as best he could to gauge your reaction. You were pulling a little painfully at his hair, squirming and rolling your hips against his face. He let you do it. Let you be the one using a man for your pleasure, rather than being the one used for once.
Your sounds were sinful. Melodic. He took it all in. Basked in the noises you made for him, the delicious taste of you on his tongue, drunk on you. On your taste. Your smell.
“ Arthur- Arthur please I- “ you babbled, a slightly smug smile working its way onto his face as he watched your prim and proper facade melt away “ don’t stop “
He hummed an assurance that he wouldn’t, your hips bucking against his face as he did. You were so unbelievably wet, dripping out around his fingers and soaking the hair of his beard. He would never have thought it of you. The way you held yourself around camp, so poised and prim. The accent when you spoke that made everyone else around you sound so common. And yet there you were. On your back in the woods, chasing an orgasm being offered to you by an outlaw. Repeating his name like a mantra.
And not even that of the outlaw you were in love with.
“ Arthur- “
Only seconds later it happened. You held a hand over your mouth as your orgasm hit you, muffling your choked moans, back arching off the ground and walls clamping down on his fingers as he worked you through it. Tongue still working diligently at your clit until you pushed your hand at his head, squirming away a little.
He almost didn’t want to stop. Could’ve happily stayed there a while longer, but moved back, an obscene wet sound in the late night silence as he withdrew his fingers.
He took his fingers to his mouth, sucking the remnants of your climax onto his tongue. Unable to control himself. You watched him do it, mouth slightly agape and eyes half open with some desperate undeniable look of utter desire. He could almost see the way it made you feel, could see you unable to contain the overwhelming feeling of realising you were desired. Wanted.
“ God. You are unbelievable “ you whispered, pushing yourself up onto your elbows and grabbing at his arm. Your fingers looped around his wrist and tugged his hand towards your own mouth. He shook his head with a chuckle, slightly in awe as you took those same two fingers between your red lips.
Your tongue swirled between his digits, plush lips wrapping around them and sucking. Your eyes locked on his as you did. It made his cock ache. He wanted your lips on him, wanted your tongue swirling around his length and milking him dry. He could imagine it if he thought hard enough. The way you hummed slightly in appreciation as you sucked his fingers clean, sent vibrations straight through his bones. Rattling him to the core. But he would never ask that of you. But the thought was one he would hold onto. It made him shift slightly.
“ you ain’t so prim and proper lady “ he murmured as he withdrew his fingers, a string of saliva connecting his fingertips and your lips “ This ain’t very proper of you miss “ Arthur said with a small smile, teasing “ rollin’ around in the dirt with the likes of me “
“ Oh to hell with being proper if it means I get to feel like this “ you said with a small laugh and he kissed you again for what felt like the millionth time. He wondered if you could taste yourself on his lips, smell the heady delicious smell of you on his beard.
He would’ve been more than happy to leave it at that. No matter how badly he wanted to sheath himself inside you and stay there for eternity. His goal had been your pleasure and he had achieved it.
But as he kissed you your hands began working at the buckle of his gun belt, opening it with a skilled ease that made him pull back.
“ Darlin’ you ain’t gotta do that- “
“ shush “ you pushed at him lightly so you could sit up and went to work on the buttons on his pants next “ I want to. I- Arthur take them off “ he made far quicker work of his own clothes than he had of yours and you leant back on your elbows to watch him.
You looked like a pinup girl. Like something he’d seen drawn come to life. Your eyes seemed hungry as you looked at him, dragging down his body and lingering on his rock hard cock. He was practically throbbing with want, the tip an angry shade of pink and leaking precum slightly embarrassingly “ come here. Please. Back down here “
He did as he was asked, crawling back over your body as you eyed him greedily.
“ We really don’t…I mean, If y’don’t wanna- “ his words stuck in his throat as your fingers wrapped around the length of him with a small sigh.
“ I want you to I just…can I ask one thing? “ he couldn’t get the word yes to escape his mouth, your fingers squeezing him softly in a way that made him see flashes of white in his vision. So he simply nodded “ don’t fuck me. Dutch fucks me, make love to me “ you seemed a little embarrassed at the request. But he didn’t think it was embarrassing. In fact he had had no plans to use you as brutally as Dutch. He was almost a little offended you thought he might.
“ Told you, anythin’ you want. You got it “ you smiled softly and pressed another kiss to his lips before laying back down again. He positioned himself over you, caging your head in between his arms. And it truly was incredibly intimate. He wondered when the last time you had had such intimacy was. If you’d ever received such a thing from Dutch.
He spat on his hand and grabbed a hold of his sensitive cock, stroking himself a couple of times to get himself slick. Not that he really needed to, you were already wetter than he’d ever known a woman to be. But the last thing he wanted was your discomfort. He lined himself up with you, eyes trained on your face as he dragged his weeping tip between your folds. You gasped as he caught your clit, still sensitive and alert from your first orgasm.
“ Arthur please “ you whimpered rolling your hips up against him, so desperate to have him inside of you.
“ So God damn wet for me “ he murmured “ such a good girl ain’t ya? “ you whined in answer, fingers wrapping around what you could of his bicep and digging your perfectly trimmed nails into his skin “ gonna make you feel so good I promise darlin’ jus’ like you deserve yeah? “ you whispered out a yes and brought your other hand to the back of his neck. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, still running his cock along the length of your slit. Teasing.
“ Keep looking at me. Please look at me Arthur “ he continued to do as asked. Again. Though his eyes had barely strayed from your face anyway “ I need you so badly “ Eyes locked on yours, he finally pushed into you, he took it slow. Letting you take it inch by inch, watching the look of ecstasy wash over your face. Your eyes fell closed.
He fought to retain his own composure, overwhelmed by the tight, wet, warmth of your walls enveloping him. He could feel every unique ridge and bump that made your cunt oh so perfect, feel every muscle stretch and contract as you adjusted to him.
“ god- oh god “
“ shh shh easy there. I got ya “ he paused once he was seated inside of you, grabbing at your hip with one hand to angle your hips better. Allowing you to comfortably take all of him in. He waited, let you adjust to his size, not daring to move before he got the go ahead from you “ there you go, look at you, takin’ all of me like that. So good f’me “ you basked in his praise, a dopey kind of smile spreading across your face.
“ so much bigger than him “ you whispered with a small laugh and Arthur couldn’t help the smug smile on his face. Kissing you and touching you and making you come on his tongue had been one thing. But having you like this? Having his cock buried to the hilt inside of you, so unbelievably close together. And to then be told that? To know he was about to do you better than Dutch ever had. Ever could. It felt like the biggest fuck you to the man that had been not only mistreating him of late, but also the goddess of a woman beneath him “ I’m good. You can move. Please move “
He didn’t need telling twice. Pulling out almost completely and thrusting back in in one smooth motion. The pace he fell into was just as you’d asked. Loving. Tender. But hard and deep, making sure his hips were flush with yours with every stroke. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulled his face back down to kiss him again.
If anyone had spotted you they’d have easily mistaken you both for a lovesick couple having a private moment to yourselves. The entire thing intimate and passionate. No one would assume it was an affair in motion, hidden away in the woods by the shoreline in fear of your lover finding the pair of you there.
But it was what you wanted. What you had needed. And he felt privileged to provide.
He pulled back from your lips to watch you again, enthralled by the way your face relaxed and twisted in the pleasure he was providing you. You continued to spill those angelic sounds from your throat, growing breathier and higher pitch as he continued to drag his cock against the sopping, sensitive heat of your cunt. He had to focus hard not to finish in seconds. So much build up paired with being practically celibate for months was truly doing him no favours, but he focussed. He wasn’t letting this end until you came once more. You deserved it.
“ Keep those pretty eyes on me “ he murmured as they fell closed again “ that’s it darlin’, look at me there ya go “ everytime he spoke the slightest word of praise you practically beamed, so desperate to hear it. To be told you were good. Beautiful. So different to Dutch constantly yelling at you about how annoying you were, how much your mere presence bothered him these days. So he kept it up.
“ Doin’ so well for me. This pussy it’s perfect, ain’t that right? C’mon tell me “ he urged, still fighting off his ever looming orgasm. The sounds alone was enough to make him want to burst. Sweat slicked skin on skin, the wet sounds of your cunt dripping around the swollen intrusion of him. And those sweet sweet moans of yours.
“ yes “ you whimpered “ it’s perfect “
“ That’s a good girl “ he increased his pace ever so slightly and your hands slipped from his arms to his back, dragging your nails down him to try to pull him impossibly closer to you.
He moved a hand down between your bodies, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts, grunting and choking back his own moans as you squeezed him. Like your body never wanted him to leave, gripping his cock with your cunt and making it ever more harder to hold back. He couldn’t help but have a look, glancing down to see the way you stretched around him, mesmerised at the way you took him in so deep.
“ tell me I- oh. Tell me I’m beautiful “ you whimpered, sounding almost like you might cry. From pleasure, from upset. He didn’t know. But he continued to do as asked.
“ you’re beautiful “ he murmured picking up his pace a little more, his sweat slick skin slapping against yours. He was desperate to see you come again. Wanted to see your face up close this time, watch your eyes roll back and your kiss swollen lips part in ecstasy “ so beautiful darlin. Doin’ so well f’me, takin’ me so well “
“ don’t stop, don't stop “ he dropped his head to your neck whispering every word of praise he could think of into your ear, your body arching up against his and whimpering and whining with every word.
“ ain’t ever looked prettier than this “ he whispered, his own voice becoming breathless with the effort “ shit- look at ya, takin’ my cock so well. So pretty darlin’ “
Your second orgasm seemed to shock you as much as him, clawing at his skin to hold him close as your body trembled beneath him, biting at his shoulder to muffle your moans.
He didn’t mean to finish inside of you, had fully intended to pull out. But the way your cunt had squeezed him, the sounds you had made as he pushed you over the edge for the second time.
He muffled his own groan of pleasure in your neck, fingers digging into the dry earth beneath you, spilling load after load whilst fully sheathed inside of you. His entire body tensed, a pleasure he hadn’t felt in an incredibly long time. His heart was hammering in his chest, blood rushing loudly in his ears as it seemed to drag on forever.
And then he came to his senses.
“ m’sorry. Shit. Sorry “ he panted as he tried to compose himself and pushed himself up onto his hands to pull out. But you yanked him back down, arms wrapping around his back again and legs tightening around his waist.
“ no. Please. Stay. Stay right there. Just a moment would you “ he had come to realise in the past.. how long had you two even been out there? However long it was, he’d come to realise he was terrible at saying no to you. Could never possibly even dream to deny you of anything you wanted from him. And so he slumped back down onto his forearms, dropping his head against your shoulder for a moment. Your chest heaved beneath him and you caught your breath, fingers tracing gentle strokes along his spine. He felt he could stay there for hours.
“ You doin’ okay? “ he asked, pressing a light kiss to your jaw when he had composed himself a little more.
“ marvellous Mr Morgan “ you whispered with a small smile “ truly. Marvellous “ he couldn’t help but kiss you again, the long lingering kind meant for two lovers.
After a few minutes you both finally moved, re dressing in silence and then sitting back in your original position against the tree. He handed you a cigarette, lighting it and placing it between your lips.
He wondered what he looked like. Wondered what evidence you had left on him. Had he sweated off the lipstick prints on his chest or were they still there? He knew you had scratched his back up good and proper and would have that reminder there for a few days at least.
“ Thank you. Mr Morgan '' you said quietly after a few silent moments of smoking, blowing out a long stream of smoke “ I mean it I- i'm not sure what I’m supposed to say “
“ Don’t say anythin’ “ he said with a small wave of his hand, appearing as blaise as he possibly could but in reality knowing he wasn’t about to forget that night anytime soon “ its fine. Really. Anytime y’need me, for anythin’, you know where I’ll be “ you smiled and he watched your body relax a little more.
“ you know, i might just take you up on that “
He sincerely hoped you would.
Update: I currently have ZERO intentions to ever write a second part to this. I have been asked so many times since uploading this originally that I’ve lost count. But I have absolutely no ideas or inspirations for a second part at any point in the near. Or far. Future. It was always meant to be a stand alone like all my one shots are. But tysm for the love <3
pairing : Arthur Morgan x f!reader
rating : explicit (mdni!)
word count : 15.4k
summary : Back in Saint Denis to recharge after a bounty, Arthur makes an unforgettable encounter. Fate makes you cross paths again months later.
warnings : violence. smut. angst. fluff. I left a couple of things out of the tags not to spoil the story.
Arthur is an outlaw and a bounty-hunter, but the good kind, mention of the Van Der Linde gang doing their gang thing, mention of random people’s death. Mentions of blood and gunshot violence, nothing too graphic. Sexual assault and non con touching on reader. Typical misogyny and sexism for the end of the 19th century. Reader comes from a wealthy family, she has French roots but only because Saint Denis is inspired by New Orleans and has like a French background. Feel free to ignore that detail. She has hair long enough to be braided and wears typical 19th century women’s outfit, but no more description than that (the pic is a marble statue, not representing reader’s skin color). Reader is about to be engaged, but I wouldn’t call this infidelity or cheating because nobody gives a damn about her fiancé/husband. Allusion to non-con/dub-con touching and kissing by reader's fiancé. And then allusion to domestic abuse and violence by reader’s husband.
Kissing, oral sex, vaginal fingering, unprotected piv sex, praises, reader isn’t that much experienced. Arthur and reader pov, but I am also all-knowing. No beta, and remember english isn't my first language so please don't mind all the spelling and grammatical mistakes. Let me know if I forgot anything.
There’re some Titanic references here. Title by Dire Straits, I know the song has nothing to do with this scene, but Iron Hand sounded real good to me while writing this. Arthur’s horse is called Hollow (it was my boy in the game until…I killed him by accident, my poor horse). Dividers by @/saradika-graphics
a/n: what can I say… Arthur is a good man, and he deserves everything. The idea appeared in my head on a train ride early one morning and we kept fuelling it with thots so I had to do something about it. I heard about RDR2 a long time ago. Bought it in august, started to play in November, and I fell in love. So here we are. Writing for a new videogame character is not easy, when it’s one as loved as Arthur it’s even harder. So please be kind and I hope you will like it.
I have to give the biggest thanks to my baby @joelmillerisapunk for making me discover this game, being my guide, entertaining this idea, sending me unhinged Arthur edits, and holding my hand the whole time while I was writing it. I love you so very much and this fic is a gift for you my love to celebrate the beautiful friend that you are to me 💖✨🫂
Thank you @sawymredfox darling for your enthusiasm and your support, for reading some bits and for being so amazing, I love you 🫂🤍.
And I also have to give a shoutout to @javier-pena, because she is an amazing writer and she wrote the first Arthur fic I’ve ever read, Embers, and I curiously gave it a go, and now I still remember reading it like it was yesterday. This fic will stay with me forever. So thank you Astrid for writing this ✨🫶🏻.
Hollow’s hooves are hitting Saint-Denis' cobblestone roads. Guiding his loyal horse through the streets, Arthur is keeping an eye on the target he hogtied on the back of the animal. The man is long gone, his snores muffled by the gag he has on.
The fight that led to his arrest took the last bit of his energy, and Arthur is thankful for it, he wouldn’t have been able to ride the whole way back to town with that idiot complaining and threatening to kill him. They are always so talkative, those targets…And Arthur just wants to enjoy some peace.
It took him three days to locate that bastard, hidden in the outskirts of Bayou Nwa. An area infested by thieves, yobs…and creeps. He couldn’t trust any intel he received; there’s no such thing as truth in this land. His target tried to rob a mansion in town and killed two kids and a maid in the process. The parents are inconsolable. Arthur isn’t a saint, far from that, but he has honour. Nobody can say otherwise. And killing innocent isn’t something he can stomach. He would make sure this criminal won’t ever do something like that again himself, if he had the chance… But the victims’ family believes in justice…for what it’s worth in this old world…
He got lucky though, almost got shot in the shoulder, but that dumbass ran out of ammo… He figured his time hasn’t come yet.
Tying Hollow on a horse stop, Arthur throws the unsuccessful robber on his back, and enters the building. A quick talk with the sheriff, a pat on the shoulder and a "congratulation Mister Morgan" later, Arthur is finally free. It wasn’t an easy one, and 300 $ for this catch doesn’t seem enough… But times are hard for everyone, even the police department. Collecting his money from the desk, he puts his hat on his head, and leaves the station silently.
The sun is shining low in the sky now, passer-by are heading to the park, or running errands. Saint Denis is a dynamic city, between the Vaudeville Théâtre and the café, but it’s not really Arthur's scene… He can feel other people’s eyes on him, and even if he occasionally throws a couple of greetings around, it’s not rare for him to witness men or women changing sidewalks when crossing his path. He’s used to it by now, but he still wonders what’s about him that rebukes people… Hell he has rubbed shoulders with scarier fellas, he is not that bad…
The only ones that seem to gravitate towards him are the prostitutes… Arthur declines their offers once again with a shy smile and a courteous nod, while heading to the Bastille, the weakening rays of sunlight warming his back through the fabric of his black shirt. He needs a bath, a steak, and a glass of whiskey.
The Bastille is the fanciest place in all Saint-Denis… and considering the "prestige" of the other establishments, it’s not really difficult.
Your father promised you that moving to the South would help him expand his business, make connexion, he said that you would have a better quality of life… but you hate this place. It’s dangerous, and dirty, and if it’s locals’ conception of a wealthy, fancy city well… you wonder what other places in Lemoyne look like… You’ll never get to discover them though; your father strictly forbade you from leaving the city, you’ve only seen the train station; and the farthest you have been is the pier, but you almost got assaulted on your way back, if it wasn’t for a young banker’s help.
The said young banker is sitting in front of you right now, sipping at his cup of tea, while your father exposes the plans he has for his new conquest… A piece of land, somewhere in the west, where he could build a new town, inspired by some of the prettiest French cities.
You really miss your hometown, the beautiful fields surrounding your house where you used to picnic and take your horse on ballads. Here in Saint Denis, you spend your days inside of your mansion, reading, playing piano, painting, knitting… You only go out to visit the tailor, or meet with your mom’s friends at the theatre. You managed to convince your butler to let you bake, and that wasn’t really difficult, the old man has always been fond of you. It’s a comfortable and luxurious life, but you’re bored. Everyday looks the same, and as you take another cucumber sandwich from the plate, you can’t help the anxiety from growing at the prospect of living the exact same life, forever stuck in Saint Denis, with the man in front of you.
Matthew isn’t too bad but you expected better from a future husband. The way he seems more interested in your father than you isn’t sitting right with you. But he “saved your life”, your mother reminded you earlier while helping you put on your corset… And it’s true… You could have ended up hurt or worse, but you weren’t completely defenceless, you could have fought back, Matthew just didn’t let you the time to do so. He saw a damsel in distress and just hopped off his cab and intervened. This heroic gesture gave him the right to court you. A young, rich banker in his thirties, still unmarried… He had to do something about it quickly, and you were the perfect opportunity: a pretty young woman, well mannered, with a rich father… There is something wrong with his intents towards you and your family. Nothing smelled like love in this story, it all has to do with profit. And you don't like this.
You didn’t want to be here today, you tried to voice your concerns to your father, in vain… Your mom reminded you that you weren’t going to stay young and beautiful forever, and that no man would take a liking in you once you’ll get older. You had no other choice but to obey to your parents.
Now looking at the scene unfolding in front of you, you want to scream and run away… But you just sit here in your pretty dress, trying to eat those mini cakes and biscuits in the most elegant way possible, feeling sick at the fact that your mom isn’t even reacting to your misery…
Toying with your little spoon, pouring too much sugar in your teacup, you can hear her aggravating voice in your head. She would tell you that you’re a grown woman and that marriage is a business transaction anyway and that love you read too much about in books, has nothing to do with it, and you should consider yourself lucky that Matthew isn’t repulsive. Like you said… He isn’t too bad. But you’re not attracted to him, and as you remember the way he unexpectedly covered your neck with kisses while murmuring promises of love to you the other night when you took a walk in the garden after dinner, you can’t help but shiver in disgust.
You eye him silently, offering your fakest smile to the assembly, before observing the other patrons in this place. They seem more interesting.
The main room is big, the huge velvet curtains in front of every window are supposed to give this place some kind of French café atmosphere, but you’ve visited better places in your youth. There’s a lot of indoor plants, and they’re pretty, adding a nice green touch to the décor. A mix of French and English conversations echoes through the room, and it’s difficult to keep track of everything going on around you. Drunk salesmen are playing poker on your right, cursing with restraint every two exhales of their cigar smoke, the coins they’re throwing on the green felt table clicking against the empty whiskey bottles scattered there. There’s an old man at the bar discussing with a young lady in a revealing purple dress… The poor fella is struggling to keep his eyes above her neckline.
Other groups reunited for the afternoon tea, just like you, your parents, and your soon to be family in law… At the table right behind yours, a little girl is being scolded by her mother for not holding her spoon properly… You feel sorry for her, the memories of being once in her shoes a long time ago invading your mind. You give your mother a saddened look, before focusing on the main entrance. You should leave. Take your purse and your coat, excuse yourself and go get some fresh air instead of staying glued to that stupid chair. It’s really hot in here, and fanning yourself isn’t cooling you down. But you know that Matthew would follow you outside, to have another one of his… private talks. Right now, he’s busy with your father, and maybe that’s for the best.
Staring into the void, observing the rays of sunlight filtering through the red tinted window, you jolt back into consciousness when they’re suddenly pushed open by a tall man bathed in a warm glow. It only lasts a couple of seconds, the doors closing right behind him, as he strides across the room, heading to the bar.
As he steps inside the saloon, Arthur is grateful for the shade and cool air he finally gets. The weather in Saint-Denis is unforgiving at this time of the year, the humidity rising from the three rivers is suffocating. As he brushes the front of his shirt to get rid of the dust covering the fabric, all the table Arthur approaches fall silent. The happy chatters are replaced by worried whispers, nosy gossips, and fake tales about who he is, and what he does for a living. He’s not bothered by them, it’s the same thing every time he stops in Saint-Denis for a couple of days…
Sitting on his usual stool, Arthur lights a cigarette, and pulls out a couple of bills from his shirt pocket. The barman refills a bunch of pints with cold beer, and nods towards Arthur.
“It’s been a while since I last saw you here, Mister Morgan”
“Life’s been busy Maurice” Arthur says, clearing his throat.
“I’ve heard about a railway company searching for day workers… If you’re interested”
“Yeah… Not my kind of business Maurice, but thanks”
The barman laughs, wiping the counter in front of him.
“What can I do for you today?”
Arthur slides the bills in front of him. Maurice nods, putting the money in the cash register.
“I’ll call a girl to get your bath ready. I can pour you a drink in the meantime, and… I can serve you stew or… Maybe we have a steak left.”
“Steak’s a’right’”
“Just one night? Your usual room?”
“It would be nice yeah”
“It’ll be ready for you after your bath” Maurice pours him a glass of bourbon, and leaves to the kitchen.
Sipping his drink silently, Arthur turns around to face the room. The chatter started again, laughs getting louder as the glass are getting emptier. There’s still a lot of families; the Bastille usually becomes less…friendly and decent when the sun sets… That’s why he asked for the furthest room in the building the second time he stayed here. He couldn’t sleep for half the night, the noise of the fights downstairs and screams coming from the rooms of other clients who, unlike him, chose not to spend the night alone, were too much for him. It’s nice to have the comfort of a real bed from time to time, but Arthur rather sleep under the stars, on a nice meadow, no screaming, no shouting, just the gust of the wind, the dark sky as far as his eyes can see, and the warmth of a campfire.
The table next to the stairs catches his attention. Two middle aged couples are talking with a man in a grey striped suit, while a young woman draws circles with flower petals on the doily under the vase. She moves her legs from under the table, to the side, as if she’s about to leave. Arthur shouldn’t even set his eyes on her, not when the skirt of her gown is scrunched up like that, revealing her white petticoat. Staring at her shiny shoes instead, Arthur doesn’t even notice the waiter coming back with his plate.
“Mister Morgan?”
Before turning on his stool to face the bar shelves again, Arthur risks looking at the woman’s face, curious to see if she’s still painting with flowers, forced to find an occupation at a table full of people deliberately ignoring her. To his surprise, she’s already looking at him, eyes squinted, focusing on the different aspects of his appearance: his worn-out hat perched on top of his head, the dried blood staining his bruised knuckles, the belt around his waist holding his two favorite guns. A hint of worry crosses her face, and Arthur just raises his glass toward her.
He can still feel her eyes on his back now that he’s facing his plate. Arthur’s stomach rumbles at the sight. He was getting tired of those cold beans.
Half an hour later, Kathy comes down the stairs, the pink shawl wrapped around her shoulders doing a poor job hiding her cleavage.
“Your bath and room are ready Arthur” she sings, leaning on the side of the counter.
Arthur follows her upstairs, the sound of her giggles and flirty whispers diffused around the room in the wake of their leave.
You’re not even pretending to listen anymore, focusing on the couple who just left the bar for the upstairs quarters instead.
Your mom elbows you discreetly, hitting you below the ribs.
“Darling it is very rude to stare at strangers like that.” She whispers, smiling back immediately at your future mother-in-law.
“I wasn’t staring” you retort, now curious about the handsome stranger. What is a man like him doing in Saint Denis in the late afternoon? You’ve heard stories, about outlaws, about men who decided to leave the cities they grew up in, and try to find luck in the west, fearless riders, surviving thanks to their heist and robberies. Godless and lawless, never hesitating to kill their targets and anyone who would stand in their way. That’s the first thing your father told you when you arrived on the continent, hopping on the first train to join the west… Fake tales to scare people away and make sure everybody follows the rules the government tries to establish…
Collecting the petals from the doily, you hide them in the silver sander you carry in your purse. Your initials are engraved at the back of the tiny box, and you make sure to conceal your most prized possessions in it : a seashell you found in the South of France, pearl earrings your late grandma gifted you, and now the dying flower you cut up while the two most important people in your life were sealing your fate without caring about what you really want… You sigh loudly, interrupting your father’s speech.
Every head at the table turns your way, your mother quick to fumble with an apology for your attitude, not trusting you to open your mouth and do it yourself. Your father-in-law glares at you, and encourages your own father to carry on. They’re at the marriage contract part now, both extolling the merits of their respective lawyers, anxious to keep the full control of the situation.
Matthew’s foot finds yours under the table, and you avoid it, quickly pushing your legs to the side again, forcing yourself to look at him. “Are you okay?” he whispers, not wanting to put everyone’s attention on you. You just nod, gather the skirt of your dress, and stand up from the chair. The three men stop their conversation again, jumping on their feet to acknowledge your imminent parting.
Your mom gives you an interrogatory look.
“I am just going to use the bathroom” you announce, tying your shawl around your shoulders.
The men sit back down, as you walk around the table and head for the staircase.
A pianist is on the first platform, in the corner, playing some light and joyful tune, adding to the irony of your situation. The wood they used for this staircase is luxurious, the banister rails a glossy dark brown with golden plated metal incrusted in the middle. It’s quieter upstairs, a couple of dark green courting benches are set at the center of the landing, and multiple doors are in front of you now. You have no idea which one to push open to access the restroom.
The woman who led that cowboy earlier is standing in front of one of the doors, knocking on it.
“Y’really sure you don’t need a hand, Arthur?” she asks, flirtishly.
“Nah I’m alright for now sugar” says his deep voice from behind the door.
You just stand there, wondering if you should ask her for directions, when she winks at you.
“Excuse me…” you start, but she doesn’t give you the time to finish your sentence.
“Restroom is on the second door on the left sweetheart”
“Thank you” you murmur shyly, following her instructions.
The powder room is surprisingly nice, and clean. Floral tapestry from the floors to the ceiling, a rose perfume filling the air, and a huge mirror in front of you. Opening your purse, you pull out your linen handkerchief, wetting it slowly with cold water from the tap, before wiping up the sides of your neck, and your cleavage. You cannot wait to go home and take a bath. Lemoyne’s weather really isn’t suited for you, between the sweat and the mosquito bites... You really hate this place. Before joining back your family, you decide to head for the balcony, betting on some fresh air to calm your anxiety.
Your small heels are hitting the wooden floor, the hem of your skirt caressing the carpet underneath your feet. You’re lost in your thoughts, trying to picture how you’re going to get yourself out of this untoward situation… Maybe you can beg your parents to drop this stupid idea of marrying you to Matthew, maybe you can convince them to send you back to France, you could stay with your aunt…
You don’t hear the door in front of you openning, and you don’t see the tall handsome man getting out, a scrunched towel in his rough hands, drying his brown hair in a quick repetitive movement.
It's not until you collide against his chest that you snap out of it, the force of the impact making you stumble backwards. The heel of your right foot lands on the train of your dress, and you lose balance, your body ready to give up on you, and to leave you back flat on the carpet.
But Arthur reflexes are quick. In an instant, the towel he had in his hands flies dramatically across the corridor, his left arm scooping around your waist to hold you still against his body, avoiding a fall that could have definitely hurt you.
You squeal, the contact of his strong hand on the small of your back making you gasp. With your right hand, you grip the leather suspender on his shoulder, hoisting yourself up straight. Arthur has no choice but to lean forward, the strength of your grip on his upper body surprising him.
His strong features and scruffy beard give him a rough appearence, but now that you're so close to him, you see that there's more to him than just a fearless cowboy. You can’t escape his gaze, the blue green of his eyes hypnotizing you, emptying your mind from all your thoughts. There's so much hurt, and sincerity behind his eyes.
It’s just you and him in the corridor, your heart beating frenetically against his, your hand feeling the heat radiating from his body, the smell of pinewood soap mixed with this stranger’s scent filling your lungs… You feel like you’re floating, before realizing that he is, indeed, carrying you in his arms.
“Easy there” Arthur exclaims, maintaining the support on your back while slowly allowing your feet to touch the floor, and making sure to maintain a respectful distance between you.
“I am sorry, I wasn’t looking…” You step back, letting go of the suspender you were still holding in your hand.
“Sorry about that” you add, smoothing the fabric of his undershirt to get rid of the creases you created there. Your face grows hot when you realize how inappropriate it is for you to touch him like that. How inappropriate it was for him to scoop you up in his arms like that… If someone would have seen you, if Matthew would have been there at this exact moment… You don’t want to think about what could have happened.
Freeing yourself from his touch, you step aside, patting down your dress to regain your composure. You sweep your hair behind your shoulders, repositioning your necklace. You feel even warmer than before now, and this is not a good thing.
“It’s fine, don’t worry about that, the floor can be… slippery” He crouches down to pick up the discarded towel.
You don’t react, watching him instead, unable to come up with something to say.
“You alright’ miss?”
“I think… I think I need to get some fresh air”
You leave him standing here in the middle of the corridor, heading for the french doors in a hurry.
The balcony faces the busy streets of Saint-Denis, the sound of the stagecoaches running down the main road amplified by the building’s settings. A guitar player tries to make some money out of his country songs right below the saloon’s entrance.
Leaning against the banister, you take a couple of deep breaths, hoping that your mom won’t come to find you here before you can calm down.
The doors slide open behind you, the sound of spurs moving your way startling you, and you turn around quickly, to face the unexpected visitor that followed you out here.
"We’re making a habit out of it eh… sorry, I didn't mean to scare you Miss"
"It’s okay… I just… I don’t know what is wrong with me today"
Arthur hums low, and sits on the bench behind you, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket.
"I can go smoke elsewhere if you… if you rather be alone"
You turn your head to look at him, smiling shyly.
"Oh no, please, don’t worry about me… I don’t mind the smoke… or the company"
Arthur lights up a match, approaching the small flame from the unlit cigarette. He exhales the smoke carefully to avoid blowing it on you.
"The view is pretty from here" you break the silence, walking in front of Arthur to catch a glimpse at the mountains on the horizon. The sun is starting to hide behind the city's limits, the last rays projecting dancing shadows on the walls behind you.
Arthur gets up, approaching you slowly.
"I reckon it’s not too bad. But it’s better from the field over there…" he points at an area on your left, and you let your eyes following his.
“I don’t have the right to leave town” you admit, defeated.
“Well that’s a shame, it’s good to get out of the swamps sometimes…see something else, the grass is greener and healthier out there”
You scoff, knowing well what he’s talking about.
You stay like that, leaning against the railing, while Arthur returns on the bench, the cloud of smoke following him. You peer over your shoulder, contemplating him as he pulls out a brown leather notebook and a pencil from his back pocket.
With his cigarette stuck between his plump lips, he draws a couple of lines on the white page.
"Are you an artist?" you ask after a couple of minutes, naively.
"I ain’t an artist…" Arthur rich laughs makes you smile.
“Can I?” you ask, enthusiastic, reaching for the notebook
“Sure can, you tell me what you think of my … Artist skills”, he smirks, handing it to you.
Your fingers brush against his as you take it in your hand, the stark contrast between the softness of your skin and the roughness of his sending a shiver down your spine.
You clear your throat, holding the notebook in your hand, searching his eyes to silently ask for permission. He gives you a nod and you start slowly turning the pages. There’s a lot of writing in there, and you won’t violate his privacy by reading the content of his thoughts. You catch a couple of words here and there but… You don’t stop, focusing on the drawings instead: various landscapes, abandoned towns, little animals, a bunch of wildflowers. They’re quite good, a talent you wouldn’t have suspected in such a man.
But the one most recent page, the one he was focusing on minutes ago, leaves you breathless. The view from the balcony is outlined on the paper, your silhouette scanning the horizon, the ruffles of your dress, your hair cascading down your back, the little bow keeping them gathered at the nape of your neck.
You look at him, surprised.
"I hope you don’t mind… I didn’t ask beforehand but …" Arthur starts apologizing awkwardly.
"I am not offended. It’s really beautiful.”
“Glad you think so”
“I would say that you are. An artist. Definitely."
Arthur looks away, not really used to that kind of compliment.
"I can… Well, you can keep it if you want, let me just…" he begins to fold the paper to tear it off the notebook more neatly.
"No… please, don’t. You can keep it, I don’t want you to mess up your notebook"
"That’s very kind of you" Arthur hides the notebook away, secretly grateful for this little souvenir.
The two of you stay face to face, observing each other. Arthur smoking in silence, you, twirling the cord of your purse around your fingers.
You feel troubled… but not uncomfortable. His aura is… unsettling that’s for sure. Leaning on the backrest of the bench, sleeves rolled up his muscular arms, his rough hands flexing each time he brings the cigarette to his mouth. His white undershirt has a couple of buttons undone, revealing a few inches of his chest. And you have trouble keeping your mind empty of improper thoughts. You wonder what it would feel like, to be touched by him, to be protected and loved by him. You wonder if he ever shared that with someone, something real, something he didn’t pay for. Outlaws are depicted as incapable of caring for anyone but themselves, unable to show mercy, sensitivity, gentleness. But this man right here would prove those tales wrong, you can sense it. You never thought anything like this about Matthew…You’ve never caught yourself longing to feel what it’s like to be with him. You dread it. And it hurts you to realize that a man you’ve never met before made you feel more emotions in a couple of minutes, than Matthew in months of courting.
Arthur’s gruff voice pulls you out of your thoughts.
"What are you trying to escape from up here hmm ?"
"What?"
You hold his gaze, pretending to be confused by his question. But you can’t keep that mask on for long… he sees right through it. You quickly look away.
“Don’t want to be asking questions that are none of my business but you just… you just look very sad.” Arthur offers you a comforting smile.
And you just sigh, plopping on the bench beside him, letting your guard down completely.
"My fate…" you let out, the words' heaviness carried away by the wind.
"Hmmm… That’s a pretty tough thing to escape from. Let me guess… mister banker downstairs… wants to marry you eh?"
"You’re pretty observant" You fidget with your purse.
"I know… I don’t look like the type"
"That’s not… that’s not what I meant"
"It’s okay sweetheart don’t worry about it"
Silence settles between you again, and you bite the inside of your cheek, worrying you ruin it all…
"So you know my… you know the banker?" you ask, a shy attempt revive the conversation.
"I know the banker yeah… not my first time in Saint-Denis… won’t be the last either"
"I’ve never seen you around here before…"
"I am afraid we’re not frequenting the same… circles, miss" he states, leaving the sentence hanging, for you to catch up on what he’s silently admitting.
"Right…I figured…So what do you do for a living?"
Arthur shakes his head, smiling. He wasn’t expecting you to ask so directly about it.
"I am a bounty hunter… amongst other things…"
"What does that even mean?"
"Trust me miss… you don’t wanna know… And I think you figured it all by yourself since you saw me entering that saloon" Arthur smirks, kicking the butt of his cigarette out the balcony with a snap of his fingers.
You feel your face grow hot…You didn’t think he noticed you staring at him, fascinated. You smile, standing up from the bench, rearranging your dress.
“I did. I just wanted to see if you would be honest with me or try to preserve my innocence”. You sing in a mocking tone.
“I’m just trying to maintain your perception of me as a good man”
“You don’t need to create some illusion for me. I know that you are. A good man”.
“How can you be so sure about that?”
“Because you’re showing me respect, and consideration. And most men don’t. Trust me. I know some that pretend to be good but are just lying to themselves”
You were about to leave, your hand pushing against the door, when you risked taking another look at him, the dying sun illuminating his face, giving him a surreal glow.
"Can I have your name?" Arthur asks, suddenly turning his head towards you, surprised to see you still standing here.
"My … name?"
"Yeah,.. for the drawing y'know? I don’t draw a lot of people as you noticed but… I’d like to remember you"
You give him your name, and Arthur repeats it, slowly, carving it in his memory.
"That’s a pretty name, it suits a beautiful woman like you" Arthur adds boldly, a bit nervous about crossing a line, but you just lower your head down, smiling. He takes a moment to appreciate the way your face lights up at the compliment.
"Thank you. And…” You watch him take off his hat, and placing it on his chest, his hand extending your way.
"Arthur Morgan."
You seize it, giving it a shy shake, while his other hand comes to cover your joint hands. Your breath hitches in your throat. The warmth of his touch on your skin is overwhelming, and your heart is craving for more. But it doesn’t last long. Arthur lets go of your hand slowly, clearing his throat and stepping back.
"Well Mister Morgan; it was very nice meeting you"
Your heart is hammering in your chest now, you feel giddy from this interaction, but you know right here that it is one of those moments in your life you will never forget.
"Pleasure’s all mine"
Arthur stands up and watches you leave, admiring your silhouette, the cream color of your dress borrowing oranges and yellow hues from the dusk. You turn around one last time, a glimpse of light shining in your eyes, the emotions on your face more hopeful than when he first saw you at the table downstairs.
You smile softly, searching for the right words.
"Thank you… For… the talk. And you take care of yourself Arthur… whatever it is that you do, don’t get yourself killed alright?"
"I can’t promise anything about that miss…but I’ll be careful"
"Good. I’ll settle for that."
"And don’t let them steal your light away… just sayin’."
"I’ll try my best"
The doors close behind you, the skirt of your gown disappearing in the dark corridor. Arthur sits back on the bench, letting his head fall against the wall behind him, setting his hat next to him. His heart slows down, and as the night falls down on the streets of Saint-Denis, your pretty face smiling at him is the only thing he sees behind his closed eyes.
The Pacific Union Railroad Company train you took with Matthew has left on time but now it’s slowing down, and your husband is getting nervous. He asked for explanations from the ticket inspectors but they said everything was fine.
You’re watching the landscape through the window, the sun shining high above the wheat fields. it's so pretty, the gold hues so peaceful. it feels good to be out of Lemoyne’sludge.
The perk of being seated in the first class area is that you have some kind of privacy, no need to maintain appearances, you can sit with your head resting against the pane, even if your husband scolded you twice, asking you to mind your posture. You obeyed, long enough for him to forget all about you and focus on his newspaper again.
The train suddenly comes to a brutal stop, making the luggage and bags fly accross the coach. You lose balance, falling from your seat. Matthew turns your way, not even asking if you’re alright, not even helping you up. You get up from the floor, annoyed by his lack of attention. You just want to get off that train and find the comfort of your bedroom. With the amount of work Matthew has, you will certainly have a couple of days of tranquility before having to fulfill any of your marital duties.
A loud explosion noise at the front of the train echoes, accentuated by the proximity of the rocky hills surrounding the railway. Gunshots follow, and you instinctively throw yourself on the floor, while Matthew launches himself at the door of your cabin.
"What’s going on? What is happening? Sir? Can someone explain to us what is going on in this train? We paid for our tickets! We deserve answers!" He yells angrily at a train controller running away.
"Matthew don’t be ridiculous! Can’t you hear the gunshots? We need to hide, we’re being attacked!" You’re furious, hunched up under the small table.
"You’re being over dramatic again honey I told you to stop being so childish."
You don’t even reply to that, focusing on calming your breathing as screams of terror are heard in the train.
The boots heels hitting the wooden floor are getting closer to you now, the sounds of spurs following deep laughing voice.
"Matthew!" You scream one last time. But it’s too late.
"What do we have here?" You hear a voice saying.
"Gentlemen. I guess you’re responsible for this… event" Your husband says remaining extraordinarily calm. You have no idea why he thinks he has the power to gets himself out of this situation.
"Do you hear this clown speaking Bill? Empty your pockets right now or I’ll shoot you….. And this pocket watch too"
Your husband starts to protest, but the guy shoots a lamp right above your head, the glass smashing into pieces.
"Right now!" he shouts, and your husband empties his pockets to hand them his belongings.
They don’t seem to have noticed you yet, and you really hope they won’t.
You peek at the scene happening in front of the glass door, the three men facing your husband have black bandanas on, and with their cowboy hats, you can only see their eyes. And they look determined.
"That’s a lot of money you got here young fella. What else are you hiding in there?" A second man asks, walking to your husband, forcing him step backwards inside your cabin again.
"Nothing… nothing I swear it’s just me and my wife and…"
You curse mentally… how can he be so stupid…
"Your wife you say! You’re one lucky bastard. Come on don’t be shy woman, come and say hi!"
You see the three men entering your cabin, pushing your husband in the corner of the room violently, making his glasses fall on the floor.
"Please… don’t hurt her" you hear your husband weak voice protest.
You don’t have the time to get on your feet on your own, one of the men grabbing you by the waist and holding you against his chest.
"Well well well… ain’t that a pretty little thing" his disgusting face sniff the side of your neck, while his hand rest on your breasts.
You elbow him in the ribs, struggling to get out of his grip. His long hair is greazy, sticking to his frame. He makes you think of a rat, and you just yell for him to get his hands off you.
"How a limp man like you can handle such a fierce lady?" The third man says, while searching through your suitcases for more money.
"I see you were trying to hide your biggest treasure in here eh? Glad we found it. Come on woman, don’t make us wait, give us the pretty jewelry you got on"
His dirty fingers graze your neck, untying your necklace.
"Sure you’re not hiding anything more down there?" The man says, opening the top of your dress forcefully, the buttons rolling on the floor, leaving your cleavage exposed to their eyes. His hand brush over your breasts again, but he is fondling them now, and you start crying, humiliated.
"Take it easy Micah, we’re only here for the money" the third man says.
"You don’t get to tell me what to do John"
You’re completely petrified, he smells like rotten eggs and having him touching you like that makes you want to throw up.
You can only whisper pleas of mercy, while your husband watches the scene, powerless.
The first man, Bill, find your purse and empty its contempt in the brown jute back they carry around. You watch your little silver sander falling down with the rest of their catch.
The guy that was holding you against him, Micah, throws you back on the floor, your head hitting the wooden armrest in the fall. You wince at the pain, a thin thread of blood sliding down your cheek.
The men are talking together, and you have a hard time understanding what they’re saying, dizzy with the panic and the violence of your fall.
Suddenly your husband is up again, a revolver pointing at the three men, the weapon trembling in his hands.
"Hey! Give me my money back! Or I’ll shoot you!" He yells voice unsure.
The men stop their conversations, assessing him.
"I… I know the sheriff. We’ll put you all in jail!"
You sigh, knowing very well that it will only make them angrier.
More gunshots are fired outside of the train, interrupting your husband’s little threatening session. And the three men laugh, Micah pulling his gun out of his holster and shooting your husband in the stomach and the leg.
You scream in terror, crawling to Matthew’s side as he falls down on the floor, the gun getting kicked to the other side of the room by Bill.
"The hell do you thing you’re doing?" He says to your husband.
"Think you can threaten us like that?" Micah adds.
You’re taking off your husband’s jacket, tying the sleeves around his knee to stop the bleeding while he is whining from the pain, before putting pressure on his injured side.
"I told you this was stupid Matthew what were you thinking?" you cry in shock as you watch the stain spreading on his white shirt. Your hands are dirtied by the thickness of his blood.
"I know what I am doing you should have more faith in me!" He complains.
"Matthew stay still, stop talking!" you order, not knowing what to do to stop him from bleeding to death.
"You heard your woman!" Bill says, laughing with his comrades.
"What the hell is going on here?" A fourth man appears in the doorway, tall, a dark brown cowboy hat on his head, black bandana on, just like the others, green blue eyes betraying his exasperation.
"Dutch asked you to be quick. He’s waiting for you outside, we need to get out of here."
"Why are you always the one giving us orders Arthur? I can’t stand it anymore" Micah complains, pushing the other man.
"Hey hey… not now" Bills says, stepping between them.
"What do we do about her?" John asks, tilting his head in your direction.
"What do you want us to do? Dutch said no more killings. We don't have time for this. Let’s’ go" Arthur says, grabbing the bag from Bill’s hands.
The three men leaves your cabin, whisling like after a good day at work. The last one, Arthur, stays in the doorstep and gives you a long glance, before disappearing in the corridor.
Outside of the train, Dutch is waiting for his crew, already on the back of his horse, the corpse of the train crew members surrounding him, their discarded weapons scattering the ground.
"How did it go? You got all the money?" He asks.
The whole crew walks in front of Arthur, jumping on their horses.
Arthur hands the bag to Dutch. He takes a look inside and smirks, satisfied.
"Alright boys, that was a good one, let’s head back to camp. Arthur? You make sure we ain’t got any…witnesses. Got it?"
"I’ll find my way back." Arthur nods.
"Yeah… don’t take us for fools Arthur, we know you are going to get your filthy hands on the biggest prize in this train" Micah says, his raucous laughter covering up the other’s.
"Ohhhh shut your mouth Micah. You’re already wasting enough air as it is"
"Don’t be vexed Arthur, ain’t nothing wrong in enjoying a lady’s company from time to time. Careful though, cause this one might bite" John adds, lighting up a cigarette, before riding away with the others.
"You bastards…" Arthur mutters, walking back towards the train.
You’re still crouched over your husband when Arthur appears again. Matthew is barely breathing anymore, his face pale as the white fabric of your shawl.
"Ma’am?"
Arthur’s voice makes you stand up immediately, holding your husband weapon and pointing it on him. He holds his hands up quickly, signaling that he is not a threat.
"You can’t stay here alone"
"Are you here to kill me?" you shout, your arms shaking, the small gun too heavy for you to carry in such a shock state.
"I am not here to kill you" Arthur's voice is reassuring, he approaches you carefully, and you drop the gun, too weak to be really threatening.
"I can’t leave him…" your voice is shaking, legs barely holding you up.
Arthur lean down over your husband's dead body, checking for his pulse. With a deep sigh, he rises up.
"He’s gone. You need to leave. Come on"
You don’t even question him, following his lead through the empty train.
"Where are the other passengers?" You ask, afraid to know the answer.
"They’re gone" he simply states.
There’re bodies in uniform on the floor. No trace of the children and women who get on that train with you hours ago…
It a silent walk and you don’t even have the strength to understand what just happened, until you find yourself in a clearing above the rail road.
"Here" Arthur takes off his bandana, and grabs the silver flask from his bag, pouring some of its content on the fabric. He hands it to you, and you just stand there, shocked.
"Mister Morgan?" you blurt out, hands shaking.
"Nice to see you again…despite the… dramatic circumstances" he smiles softly, embarrassed about this revelation.
You struggle to step back, completely petrified.
"I am sorry for your loss Ma'am" Arthur offers, taking his hat of his head.
"You! You’re … ? Why ?" You can’t even form a proper sentence, a dozen of questions rushing in your mind.
"Ain’t got the time to tell you why. You need to clean this wound" he says, bringing his fingers to his face, indicating you the location of your cut. You move mechanically his bandana to your cheek, flinching at the sting provoked by the alcohol infiltrating the raw flesh of your wound.
"Here, to clean your hands" He gesture for you to hold your hands out, away from your dress. You watch him pour the content of his cup on your skin, the grass stained with blood at your feet.
"Come on now, follow me" Arthur says, taking a path through the woods.
"Where are we going ? What are you going to do to me?”
“I ain’t gonna hurt you woman…I just want to make sure those bastards won’t look for me”
Arthur whistles, and a brown and white horse appears from behind the fir trees.
"There you are my boy"
You observe him patting the horse, fiddling with his bag to give him some oat treat.
"You’re ready?" He mumbles, peering at you over his shoulder, tightening his saddle.
"For what?"
"Well I won’t let you find your way back to town alone. But we can’t stay here we need to move. Authorities are going to look for me and my gang…"
"Okay. Yes I understand. Let me just… do you have a knife?"
"What for? Planning to threaten me ma’am?"
"As if i had a single chance against you Mister Morgan….It’s for my dress… I can’t ride dressed like that it’s not practical" you explain, annoyed.
Arthur sighs, handing you his pocket knife carefully, and you squat down, plunging it into the lower skirt of your dress, the sounds of the fabric being teared apart making Arthur flinch.
He stays here eyes wide, watching you gathering your hair, braiding them quickly, before bringing your shawl over your chest to hide your corset. Crimson stains are drawing dots on the pale blue fabric.
That idiot Micah made the buttons of your dress pop out of their place. Arthur feels the guilt falling down his shoulders... He was too slow this time. If only he could have stopped him from touching you…
"Now I am ready" you assure him, throwing the cut fabric of your dress on the ground.
Arthur just nods silently, seriously impressed by the way you’re handling the situation so far. He steps closer to you, ready to help you up on the horse but you don’t leave him enough time. You’re already jumping on Hollow’s back.
You look absolutely gorgeous up there, and if he wasn’t in such a hurry to get out of here, he’ll just stroll Hollow around through the meadows, admiring you on top of the animal. But he doesn’t have time for this.
Fastening his belt around his waist, Arthur loads back his guns before hopping on the horse behind you, careful not to be too close to you.
"You good?" He asks while you position your hands on the saddle to get more stability.
You just nod, not daring to look at him.
"Yee haw" Arthur presses his spurs against Hollow’s flanks and the horse starts to gallop down the hill.
The first hour of the ride is silent, just Arthur giving orders to Hollow here and there, and you, worried sick on the back of his horse, the only thing grounding you being the rough man against your back.
A stranger, an outlaw, a man you never knew you would meet again. A man you spent months thinking about, wondering every time you sat at that table at the Bastille, if he’ll ever push the front door again, bringing his mysterious aura to this place that will never feel like home.
You found the strength to walk around town more often after your encounter, taking your maid with you, silently praying to meet him by accident at the corner of a street, at the tailor, in the park. You finished all your strolls passing by the sheriff’s department. Just in case. You thought you saw a cowboy hat like his on the top of random strangers’ head multiple times. But it wasn’t the same rough leather, never the same shade of brown. It never failed to make your heart stop. Even the idea of him was enough to make you feel alive.
You revisited that moment you shared so many times in the past months, the ghost of his hands on you stirring up the boldest fantasies, the sound of his voice still so vivid in your memory, helping you fall asleep when the weight of your existence was to heavy for you to find peace. A dream, not only because of the man and the way he made you feel desired and seen, but because of what he represented. Freedom. But he isn’t a memory anymore. And now that the shock is fading away, it downs on you.
Arthur Morgan, in the flesh, saving you from a dire fate, repairing, as much as he can, the consequences of the illegal and reckless actions of his gang, right behind you, the inner sides of his thighs brushing against yours as the horse crosses the fields in the declining sun.
It feels like one of those crazy thoughts you used to entertain, bored in your dining room, hosting another event for the sake of your husband’s social life: Arthur Morgan, taking you away on his horse.
Now that you’re living in this dream, you have trouble identifying how you really feel. Should you be terrified and in grief? Why do you feel some kind of relief that he’s the one that found you, that he came back for you?
Arthur slows down Hollow, allowing the horse to drink a little in a small river.
"You uh… you’re tired? We can take a break if you want Ma'am, I’ll find something for you to eat. There’re berries in the woods I can…"
"I am fine mister Morgan. I am not hungry"
He just hums, ready to get down but you shift a little, sliding on the side of the horse. Arthur’s arms circle your waist, maintaining you in place.
"I should maybe walk a little. I can’t feel my legs anymore"
"Let me help you down"
Arthur jumps off the horse, grabbing you by the waist and placing you on the ground, just like that.
You whisper a thank you, and start walking next to Hollow, caressing the sides of the animal gently.
"Where are we heading like that?"
"Well there’s this town up in the north… far enough from Lemoyne, close enough to the Heartlands where our camp is located."
You nod, wondering what will happen next for you…
"How many hours left?"
"Maybe three. It depends on the weather. The clouds aren’t going to make it easy for us"
The road you’re on is surrounded by woods, the trees so high you can’t even see the sky, hints of sun piercing through the trunks as you move down the path.
You watch Arthur, the way he walks, leading his mount with care, giving you quick glances to make sure you are alright, slowing down so you never have to run behind him to catch up. He doesn't meet your eyes once though.
“I just wanna say I am sorry again, bout' your husband...” Arthur mumbles, not really confident about how to start a conversation with you.
“Please…” you laugh sarcastically, making Arthur flinch.
“But I gotta say... And pardon me for it, I wouldn’t have taken him for a coward though...Not even able to protect his woman”
“I am not surprised by any of it… and he got what he deserved" Your voice is laced with hate and bitterness. Something Arthur guesses can only be the result of abuse.
“Did he ever…you know…?”
“Put his hands on me when I didn’t want him to? Beat me up? Mister Morgan…most of the men treat their woman like he treated me. I will get over it"
You can play tough all you want, admitting this to him hurts your soul. You failed to keep the promise you made. You wish you could go back in time and save yourself from this cruel marriage.
Arthur sees the tears staining your cheeks, the wet rivers shining with the sunlight.
“I am sorry…”
“It’s not your fault Mister Morgan. It’s fine, I am fine”
"Wish I could have helped. Put a bullet into his skull myself"
"Oh well… unfortunately it wouldn’t have brought back what he stole from me… Violence cannot resolve everything. It certainly wouldn’t have healed the wounds that are scarring my soul"
Arthur can’t come up with anything to say about this… he just replays your words in his head, seeing the events of your first encounter under a new light now… if only he could have known, he would have warned you, prepared a plan to help you escape that fate, no matter how impossible it seems now.
"Why did you come back for me?" The question you’ve been dying to ask since you left the railroad hangs heavy between the two of you.
Arthur let out a long exhale, pondering his thoughts. He has been asking himself the same question since Dutch gave him the order to kill the witnesses that hadn’t ran away. He knew who was still alive on this train. He recognized you as soon as his eyes landed on you. Still as beautiful as the day you met. His heart aches at the recollection of what you’ve been through because of him.
"I couldn’t let you die on that train darlin’" his voice is soft, and he finally looks at you. You hold his stare, your eyes blurry with tears.
"It would have been easier to let me die on that train Mister Morgan… I don’t have anything anymore in this damned country" you confess, quickly turning away from his stare.
But Arthur doesn’t miss the way you’re shuddering, crying silently. Hollow’s huffs barely cover the noise you’re making, but he pretends he doesn’t hear.
After a while the temperature drops considerably, and Arthur feels that the rain is near.
"I think Hollow will be fine. We should hurry up, don’t want to be caught by the storm."
Before sitting behind you, Arthur carefully places his winter coat on your shoulders, the fur protecting you from the cold.
You ride down muddied roads, the weather change coming quicker than expected. As you approach the first couple of houses in this unknown town, Arthur pulls on the reins to slow Hollow down.
The streets aren’t busy, but it’s dark outside and the rain is pouring, it makes it difficult to see if someone is crossing the road. A bunch of men are gathered underneath the saloon’s porch, ogling you.
Arthur doesn’t even look at them, busy searching for the “Hotel” sign. You could stop and rent a room above the saloon but it’s not a suitable place for you.
Hollow is neighing, suddenly agitated.
“You’re okay boy…” Arthur says, patting his neck.
The poor horse is exhausted, from carrying you for hours. Arthur stepped down of his back for a while, before the rain started falling, to give him some rest. But he needs to stay at a stable tonight. He’ll take him there once he'll book that room.
Turning on the left to the main street, Arthur avoids carefully the lamplighter struggling to keep his candles lit long enough. He stops right next to the general store, getting down the horse and holding his hand out to help you off. You whisper a thank you, and follow him inside the white building.
Stopping at the entrance to get rid of the excess of water dripping from your clothes, you take a moment to observe your surroundings.
There’s a fireplace behind the front desk, a man is crouched down in front of it, adding small logs in the hearth. The flames bring a nice orange glow to the room. A staircase on the right leads to the rooms. Purple carpets and curtains decorate the floors and windows. A big bookshelf is on the left corner, with a couple of armchairs, and a little coffee table with beautiful wildflowers in a vase. It’s pretty, comfortable. But you’re clearly sticking out like a sore thumb, attracting a couple of client’s attention. The two of you are soaked to the bones, Arthur’s shirt glued to his skin, the teared-up skirt of your dress muddy and wet. You managed to keep your upper body dry thanks to Arthur’s winter coat, but you could use a warm bath and a set of new dry clothes.
“Ma’am, Sir, Good evening, how can I help you tonight?” the little man behind the desk asks, pushing his round glasses up his nose.
Arthur steps in front of you, hands resting firmly on the desk.
“We’d like to book two rooms, please.”
“I am very sorry sir, but we only have one room available for tonight…The rooms have their own bathrooms. I’ll ask a maid to get your bath ready, if you want? But you can try to see if there’re rooms left at the saloon… The rain caught every traveler by surprise tonight”
Arthur peers over his shoulder, you’re standing right behind him, worry crossing your tired features. The little man follows his line of sight, taking you in appreciation. He frowns, looking interrogatively at Arthur, and then at you… You give him a little smile, trying your best to look reassuring, and get closer.
Noticing that the owner isn’t going to let you off the hook that easily, you pass your arm around Arthur’s.
“I don’t want to go back out there Arthur. Let’s stay here tonight” you whisper loud enough for the man to hear. But you’re not faking anything. You’re scared. And you don’t want to leave his side.
It’s the first time you called him by his name since you met, and Arthur can’t remember the last time someone said it with such gentleness. He looks at you, giving you a comforting nod.
“Nahh this one will be fine. You heard my wife? She is tired. Just get that bath ready. Do you serve any food?”
“Well the cook has left already, but I can serve you leftover stew, and coffee?”
“Yeah. Perfect” Arthur slaps his hands on the desk, before pulling out a couple of bills from his purse.
“Thank you, would you please follow me?”
You just nod, your hand sliding from Arthur’s arm to his hand, holding it. His heart skips a beat at the unexpected gesture. You head upstairs in silence, and let the night manager do his little speech without really caring about anything he says.
The room is nice, a crimson shade on the walls, a big wrought iron bed, with white linen sheets. Less luxurious than your room back home, but it could be worse, and it’s far better than a sleeping bag on the dirty ground. A maid helps you settling in, offering to wash your clothes for you, but you decline, explaining that this is all you got.
Once the bath is ready and your plates are set on the table next to the bed, Arthur closes the door, joining you next to the chimney. You just stand there next to him, in front of the fire, warming up your cold hands.
“I’ll just… I’ll just eat my plate, and I’ll leave you here so you can take your bath and wash your clothes alright’? I’m gonna see if there’s room for Hollow at the stable. I’ll be back to check on you, I’ll try to walk to the saloon, see if there’s any room left, so you can rest”
“Arthur there’s no need, don’t be ridiculous, we can share this room, it’s cold and flooded outside…”
“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. So you just… Go take your bath”
“What about you?”
“I’ll wait, I’ll make them refill the tub when you’ll be finished, I am sure with enough money he’ll be okay with that”
“I don’t want you to spend all your money on me, I can… I can participate”
“Nah that’s okay, see it as…Compensation… For the trouble my gang caused you alright? Now you go and I’ll be off your hands for the night”
You want to protest, to say that you don’t want to stay alone here, but you don’t want to sound silly, and just nod, disappointed.
Setting his bags on the little table next to the plates of stew, a little clinking noise catches Arthur’s attention.
"Ma’am" he calls you out, before you enter the bathroom, stepping closer to you, holding a bunch of shiny objects in his hands.
"I … I got that back from what my gang stole from you… I know it’s not much but… I figured this little box had sentimental value to you so… I got your jewelry too. I thought you would appreciate to retrieve them"
You don’t say anything, taking the items from his hands, opening the silver box to check if your little souvenirs are still inside. You press them against your chest, eyes filling with tears, before throwing yourself in Arthur’s arms, the surprising movement making his hat fall off his head.
"Thank you Arthur. This means a lot to me"
"It’s not much…" Arthur blushes, resting his hand awkwardly at the nape of your neck.
You part away from him, and he grabs his hat from off the floor, watching you disappearing in the bathroom.
When you find yourself alone in front of the copper bathtub, the steam making the room all foggy, only lit by a couple of candles on a cupboard, you sigh. You step in front of the mirror, and you can’t hold your tears for any longer, muffling the sound behind your hand. You take off your clothes, slowly, trying to avoid brushing the multiple bruises and cuts on your body, dropping them in a pile at the foot of the tub. You’ll wash them after your bath, and try to make them dry in front of the chimney. Your limbs are shaking as you step inside the warm water, but it soothes you. You grab the rose scented bar of soap, and wash out the mud off your legs, massaging your sore muscles, taking extra time to wash your hair, and untangle them. You have no idea if you’ll get to take another bath anytime soon. You have no idea what is going to happen next. Tears fill your eyes again, and you sob, louder this time, not caring about being heard anymore.
Arthur hears your cries on the other side. He needs to leave you alone for a moment. He grabs his plate, and leaves downstairs, closing the door carefully behind him.
Arthur managed to drop Hollow at the stable. It’s still raining fiercely outside, but it doesn’t stop him from heading to the saloon. He needs a drink, and you don’t seem in capacity to share a room with him. You’re upset, and hurt, and he doesn’t want to be a constant reminder of your misery.
Sipping on his whiskey silently, while watching other client playing poker, Arthur waits for the barman to come back and let him know if there’s a room for him… But the guy just shakes his head “no” towards him from the top of the staircase. Arthur sighs, raising his glass to signal he wants another dose of whiskey.
He’s gonna need some liquid courage to go back to your room. Hell he has no idea if he’s going to survive this night. If his coat dries fast enough, he’ll sleep on the floor in front, of the chimney.
As the barman comes back to pour him another drink, Arthur asks for the time. It’s nearly midnight, and he doesn’t know if he hopes that you’re already asleep, or if he rather be able to share a few words with you before trying to find some rest. He sure does hope that you have stopped crying by now, and that you’re not worrying about him. He doesn’t need anyone worrying about him. Finishing his drink in one go, he decides to head back to the hotel, just to check on you. Maybe he doesn’t need you to worry about him, but he’s sure as hell worried about you right now.
Standing in front of the fireplace, you carefully put your wet clean clothes on the iron fire guard. You washed and dried your chemise, to have something decent to wear, just in case Arthur decides to come back… You waited for an hour or two, asking for the maid to help you fill up the tub again. But he didn’t come back.
The water is lukewarm now, and you wonder why on earth did he think it was a good idea to go outside in such weather, just to avoid being in the same room as you.
Three loud knocks on the door make you jump, the thin fabric of the undergarments you still had to hang out dropping from your hands, falling at your bare feet.
You get closer to the door, heart bumping into your chest, asking who’s there.
“It’s me, Arthur, can I come in?”
You just open the door, urging him to get inside.
“I see the weather isn’t getting any better” You watch him standing there, hat in his hands, shirt still as soaked as when he left, looking down at his boots.
“No luck for a room in the saloon?” You ask, searching for his eyes, but his stare doesn’t leave the floor.
“I am afraid not.”
“So you… you want to…”
“I don’t want to intrude Ma'am, I can spend the night in the chair downstairs I just…”
“Don’t be silly… It’s fine, you can stay. I don’t mind”
“Thank you.”
“You should get rid of those clothes; you’re going to get sick. I asked the maid to fill the tub in case… well there’s clean water for you in there, but I don’t know if it’s warm enough now”
“Ain’t afraid of a cold ma'am but you’re right. Water shall be fine, thanks”
“You’re welcome”
Arthur closes the door behind him, allowing himself to breathe for the first time since he entered the room.
The sight of your body only covered by this thin linen fabric, the way he could see the shape of your naked breasts underneath it… he’s not going to make it through the night, he needs to turn off all the damn candles, so he doesn’t scare you away by looking at you like a man starved…
Taking off his clothes he climbs into the bathtub. The water is still hot, and the contrast with his cold skin makes it even warmer. The thought of your body being so close to his in this too small bed makes his cock grow half hard already. He closes his eyes, wrapping his hand around his length. He pictures you joining him in the bathtub, not even bothering to get rid of your chemise, the white linen fabric sticking to your skin, revealing the shape of your body to his hungry eyes, your soft hands roaming down his bare chest, the noise you would make while he slowly stretches you open, his hand holding you firmly against him. But he can’t allow himself to entertain this image of you. You trust him, and no matter how hard he is, he can’t do that.
Sliding further down the tub Arthur dips his head under the water, hoping that drowning his desire for you will help him calm down.
On the other side, you’re pacing around the room, biting your nails nervously, unable to stay in the same spot for one minute. You tried to sit on the edge bed, but felt awkward. The chair wasn’t better. Are you supposed to get under the covers and try to sleep? But you should offer Arthur to sleep on the bed right? He certainly is more tired than you are, he must have been on the roads for a long time before this train heist, who knows when was the last time he slept on a mattress? You’re going to wait for him and just… ask him to sleep in the bed, you’ll take the armchair.
The bathroom door opens suddenly, Arthur appearing in the doorway, skin glistening with water, the droplets drawing patterns along his chest hairs. It’s not the first time you’ve seen him out of the bath, but this time, he is half naked, and the towel he tied around his waist does a poor job at hiding what’s underneath.
You turn around quickly, scared that he would be able to read what’s happening inside your mind, focusing on the fire instead.
“Sorry ‘bout that… s’just… I figured I should wash my clothes too… and we don’t really have this kind of pretty dresses you’re hiding underneath your gown…” he mumbles, glancing at you.
You just hum, watching him walking in front of the fireplace, hanging up his shirt and pants on the makeshift rack you created.
“That’s pretty smart…Seems like it’s drying well” he says, letting the back of his hand brush your corset.
You see it and bring instinctively your hand to rest on your cleavage, wishing his hands were touching you there instead.
Arthur faces you, noticing the way you’re holding your breath under his gaze, your untied hair falling along your neck. You’re so beautiful and maybe he could just…
“We should…” you break the silence, not bearing the tension that settled between you anymore. You move, heading toward the opposite side of the bed closer to the fire.
“Yeah let’s just…” he faked a cough, lifting his arms up to pass his hand through his hair, the towel shifting, revealing more of the skin of his thighs, and you nearly miss the bed. Before making a complete fool out of yourself, you slide under the covers.
Arthur blows off the candles, joining his side of the bed, a strange warmth spreading in his chest at this weird intimacy you’re going to share tonight. He hasn’t actually slept next to a woman in years. He is careful to lay down next to you without making the bed move too much.
“I hope you don’t mind me taking the side closer to the fire, it’s just… I am sensitive to the cold” you whisper.
“I wouldn’t worry about being cold if I were you sweetheart…”
You want to ask why, but as you feel the mattress dipping underneath Arthur’s weight, the sheets lifted carefully from your body, a gust of cold air rising goosebumps on your bare legs, you understand. It is short lived. The heat coming from Arthur’s body makes you grateful for the fact that they didn’t put winter covers on this bed. Your legs brush his by accident, and you move it quickly to the other side.
You both talk at the same time, a surge of panic coursing through you.
“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
“Ya sure you don’t want me to ask them for more covers? I can wake that man up for you, I don’t mind”
“You’re planning to leave the room dressed like that?” You chuckle, wondering how it would look like for the hotel owner to open his door and find himself face to face with a cowboy draped only in a towel…
“I ain’t got nothing to be ashamed of… Besides, I rather not have you dying from cold during the night”
“I am fine Arthur” you laugh.
“Alright, you tell me if you change your mind, good night sweetheart”
Your eyes snap open. It’s not the first time Arthur has called you that since you met him…But it’s different now that you’re in a bed next to him.
“Good night Arthur” you reply back, trying not to overthink it.
You shift a little on your side, making sure to take the less room possible in the bed, pull the covers closer to hide your face, exhaling a deep breath. It’s going to be a long night…The rain has started to fall harder outside, the muffled sound would have been nice to lull you to sleep… But you’re mentally tossing and turning, you’re too aware of Arthur’s presence beside you.
Laying on his back, right arm resting above his head, Arthur keeps his free hand firmly on his waist, making sure that this ridiculous towel won’t open if he moves during the night… It sure won’t be a comfortable sleep…
Focusing on the dancing shadows on the ceiling, Arthur tries to close his eyes, but you’re too distracting. He can hear your soft breaths, the way your leg brushed against his skin is haunting him now… It’s just… impossible.
He pushes all the previous thoughts he had about you away… But it’s just the hardest thing ever. He can feel the heat radiating from your ass, you’re so close to his hips, but still too far for his liking… His hand flexes on his side, brushing the back of your thigh. He doesn’t know if he should apologize or just pray that you haven’t felt anything…
“I can hear your breathing changing Arthur” you mutter.
Arthur curses, tilting his head down to look at you. You’re still back to him, not daring to turn around, even if your right side is getting numb now.
“That damn bed is too small… I wasn’t…”
Jumping a little, you finally face him, left hand resting under your cheek, searching for his blue green eyes in the dark.
“You’re not sleeping?” you ask softly.
“You’re not sleeping either” he affirms, letting go of the tight grip he had on his makeshift underwear. It’s not really a question… more of an invitation for you to expend further if you want to.
“Lot of things on my mind…”
“Pretty much the same for me I reckon…”
“You go first” you whisper with a smile, and Arthur sighs, wondering if it’s really a good idea to go on such a dangerous path.
“M’not gonna lie sweetheart you’re drawing my attention away from sleeping…Not really used to share my bed with a pretty girl like you…”
You shy away from his gaze, biting your lips.
“Now your turn’” he urges.
“I just… I just wondered what it would feel like to kiss you”.
Arthur can’t believe what he’s hearing right now. He clears his throat, ready to fly out of the bed. You notice the slight blush on his cheeks.
“I think you might be more sleep deprived than you think ma'am… You just… You can’t be serious”
He is about to turn his head away from you, but your hand slides between your bodies, stopping him from hiding from you, resting on his cheek, brushing the side of his jaw with your thumb.
Arthur’s heart is hammering hard in his chest.
“I am not sleep deprived Arthur. And I’ve been asking myself that question since we first met” you murmur, and shift a little, getting closer to him, your hand getting lost at the back of his head, fingers messing with his hair gently.
Arthur whispers your name for the first time since he took you away from that train, his tone grave.
“A woman like you shouldn’t be involved with a man like me darlin’”
“You think too low of yourself Arthur. I told you once, but I’ll tell you again. You’re a good man. You proved it to me today.”
“I ain’t done anything today that makes me good enough for you” Arthur scoffs.
You lean in, the tip of your nose brushing his.
“You are good enough for me…” you start, interrupted by Arthur’s disbelieving huff.
"You're not thinking straight, woman" He whispers, trying to fight back, but the feeling of your body pressed so close to his makes him want to throw caution to the wind and kiss you. Would it be so wrong for him to touch you like that?
“It’s true Arthur. I wish you could see it too.”
Before he can retort anything, you lower your head and press your lips against his, timidly. Arthur stays frozen, his mouth completely still against yours, and your heart sinks, terrified that you might have been too straightforward. But then he moves, forcing you to fall back down on the bed, his hand finding the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. It’s rough and messy, and no other man has ever kissed you like that. You moan into the kiss, ready to open your mouth for him to taste you, but Arthur parts from you.
“You sure you want this?” he asks, his eyes never leaving yours, and you can feel the worry in his voice.
“Yes” you reply, out of breath, grabbing him by the neck and kissing him again. His tongue plunge into your mouth, and you finally understand what it feels like to kiss someone you really want.
Fumbling with the ribbons of your gown, you reveal your bare chest to him, and Arthur doesn’t waste time, mouth moving down your neck, kissing the side of your breast.
“You’re so beautiful, so soft” he says, in between kisses.
You wouldn’t have expected such gentleness from a man like him, the way he touches you, caresses you like you could shatter under his rough hands makes you feverish.
His hand finds the hem of your gown now, the tip of his fingers moving along your naked thigh. He tilts his head from off your chest, silently asking for permission, and you nod, holding your breath. You can feel his palms caressing your inner thighs, moving onto your stomach, leaving goosebumps in their leave, avoiding the part where you want him to touch you the most.
“Arthur…” you moan, begging for more.
You’re not used to be unraveled by a man, and you feel like you could come just from having him touching you like this.
“I don’t want to hurt you darlin’ you’re so delicate I just…”
“You won’t, please touch me Arthur, I need you”
Arthur kisses you again, his hand caressing your pussy, spreading the wetness that gathered there since your lips touched his. With his thumb caressing your clit, he inserts one finger in your entrance, and your body contracts.
“You’re okay there?” he asks, concerned, stopping his movement.
“Yes… I am okay… It feels good…I think I am just nervous”
“You gotta relax…but if it’s too much, I understand we can…”
“No it’s fine, please, keep going”
Arthur hums, accelerating his cricles on your clit before pushing another finger in your wet pussy. You whimper, bucking your hips to meet the thrust of his fingers.
“Arthur I am close… I… Oh my god…” you manage to say before your orgasm catch you by surprise, white hot pleasure washing over you.
Arthur smirks, kissing your cheeks, praising you for being so good for him.
You can feel his hardened cock resting against your thigh, the towel he has around his waist not thick enough to hide the warmth radiating from him.
“Can I take that off?” he asks, seizing your waist in his hands.
“Hmm please” You help him getting rid of your gown, throwing it on the floor.
Arthur just stays there, sitting on his heels, admiring you, the way your chest is heaving right now, glossy mouth slightly swollen from his kisses, your pretty eyes shining with lust. He dreamt about this moment after you met, but he wouldn't have bet a dime on it happening for real.
"Arthur I want you to take me, please, make me yours" your breathy voice breaks the silence.
He sighs, looking away for a second, overwhelmed by this whole thing… the shy and pretty bride-to-be who made his heart melt with her smile months ago, naked in his bed.
"Ain’t that a sight…come here" leaning over you, he helps you back down on the bed, peppering your body with kisses, his beard leaving slight burns accross your skin.
He slides down your body, arms wrapped underneath your thighs, opening your legs for him.
"What are you doing?" You ask giggling nervously.
“I gotta make sure you’re wet and ready for me…"
"No one has ever… I mean… I…" you confess implicitly, troubled by the feeling of his mouth on your lower stomach, his thumbs brushing reassuring circles at the back of your knees.
"Now I can’t believe that a man lucky enough to call you his wife wouldn’t want to spend his nights between your thighs"
The mention of your husband makes you quiver. Maybe you’re doing something wrong, maybe you will be punished for it, but you’ve never wanted anything more than giving yourself to Arthur in your entire life. He could have taken you away with him that day in Saint Denis you would have followed him.
"Arthur…"
"I want to taste you darlin’, will you let me?"
You feel your cheeks burning at the way he’s talking to you, not ashamed to show you how much he wants you too.
"Please" your hand find his on the side of your body, and you grip it, needing something to keep you from becoming insane.
The first licks he gives you are enough to make you chant his name, not caring about the other clients sleeping in the rooms down the corridor.
Arthur smirks against you, closing his mouth against your clit, his free hand sliding around your thigh, pulling your body closer to his face. The tip of his tongue finds your entrance, collecting the juices of your pussy. You’re so wet and the noises he’s making are so sinful, he is groaning against your core, the sounds reverberating through your body.
He can feel that you’re still tense, not really giving in entirely to your pleasure.
He adds his fingers in your pussy, working in tandem with his tongue to bring you to your orgasm again.
You had no idea it could feel this good to have a real man taking care of you like Arthur does.
"Be a good girl for me and let go darlin’ I got you"
You find yourself growing wetter at the praise, your hands find the top of his head, gripping his hair and pulling it gently. Your moans are getting louder and louder, jagged breaths escaping your lips, and Arthur can feel his cock leaking against the sheets. The sounds you’re making for him will stay in his mind forever.
"There you go… my good girl, you’re being so perfect for me"
You come all over his face, body shuddering as he raises from between your thighs, finally getting rid of his towel, wrapping his hand around his aching cock, revealing what you’ve been dying to see.
You’ve barely collected your thoughts, mind foggy with bliss, and the sight of him, mighty and beautiful, his strong chest heaving, his erected cock resting against his stomach, the coarse hairs surrounding his base, makes your pussy clench and your heart race. He is so handsome, and the desire you’re feeling for this man is so intense, you’ll never forget the way he is making you feel.
You watch him stroke himself, your own hands flexing on the sheets, eager to touch him. You’re transfixed, mouth parting on its own accord, wondering what he would feel like in the palm of your hand, at the back of your throat. You’ve always felt repulsed by your husband, but this is different.
Kneeling on the bed, you get closer to him, your hand caressing his chest, your mouth dropping kisses down his neck and shoulder. Sliding your hand down his lower stomach, you replace him, the tip of your finger ghosting timidly along his length, before you find the courage to massage his cock gently. He’s hot and throbbing and you just can’t resist the urge to take him into your mouth.
Arthur throws his head back, a ragged breath escaping his mouth. You smile satisfied to have the chance to return the favor.
“Ohh yeah keep going, just like that”
You lick the underside of his cock, and accelerate the movements of your hand, the pad of your thumb finding his tip, spreading the precum that leaked here along his head.
“Ohhh this is really good, you’re being such a good girl for me…but I want to feel you come around me darlin’”
His hand stops you, circling your wrist. Arthur maneuvers you down on the bed, before positioning himself between your parted legs. His lips find yours once again.
"You still want me to make you mine?"
"Yes… yes Arthur please, I need you"
His thumb brushes your cheekbone softly.
"You’re gonna take my cock like a good girl, ain’t you?”
You nod excitedly, desperate to feel him inside of you.
“Atta girl”
You feel the tip of his cock breaching your entrance, and you whimper at the slight discomfort.
“Shh shh you’re okay” He reassures you, kissing the side of your head.
"You’re so big, I’ve never had anyone as big as you before I don’t know if…"
"I’ll slow down, ´promise I’ll be gentle with you" he presses his lips against your forehead.
The way he is gazing at you, with such want and affection… your heart skips a beat, tears filling your eyes. You capture his mouth with yours, to distract yourself from the stretch that leaves you breathless, as he slowly eases into you, your walls contracting against his member.
Arthur curses above you, he never wants this feeling to end.
"Oh dear…" you bite back a moan, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the weight of his body on top of yours.
"Don’t act shy now… let me hear you" he groans, and the first thrust he gives you have you screaming.
“God dammit girl that’s…you’re doing a good job for me darlin’” he praises, his mouth finding your naked breasts, sucking on your nipples.
You moan louder, the heat spreading in your whole body.
"I need you deeper Arthur… please"
"Y'need me deeper eh? How about that?"
The weight of his cock inside of your pussy feels so good, you want to cry in pleasure at the sensation of being full of him.
"Tell me how you feel darling"
"So good Arthur… you feel so good" you whine, unable to keep your eyes open.
Arthur thrusts his hips forward, before scooping you up from the mattress, his big hand finding your back to press you against him. Your nipples brush against his chest. You straddle him, the back of your thighs sticky with sweat resting on his.
"Don't stop" you manage to say, voice shaky.
You roll your hips to meet his thrust, following the same rhythm, while his free hand tangles in your hair. You crash your lips against his mouth, tongue licking his lips, both of you moaning and whimpering each other’s names.
"Please… Arthur please"
As he feels you contracting around him, Arthur’s hand leaves your hair, and finds your clit, his fingers helping bringing you closer to the edge.
“You’re gonna come again for me?”
You didn’t think you were able to come more than once for a man, so used to fake all your sounds of pleasure, to pretend to be satisfied so you can move on with it quicker and go back to reading your books. But you don’t have to fake anything with Arthur tonight, you never want to leave this room. He proved himself worthy of your body and soul, and with a hoarse cry of his name, your walls clench around him, a new wave of wetness coaxing his cock.
Arthur is chasing his own orgasm, hands finding your waist, slamming his hips into you while you find yourself surprisingly coming again on his cock. He moans your name, hiding his face in your neck, while spilling his cum inside of you. His breathing is heavy, and the feeling of him pushing his seed deeper inside of your pussy has him feeling drunk on you. Your skin against his, your scent surrounding him, he wishes you could stay like this for hours. He kisses the top of your head, trying to catch his breath, whispering how good you felt around him, how beautiful you are when you come for him.
You’re resting boneless on his lap, head against his chest, completely out of breath.
Arthur lays on the bed, taking you down with him, pulling you close to his chest. You place your head against his heart, lulled to sleep by its echoes, and the way Arthur caresses your hair delicately. Legs tangled together, your hand finds his, and you hold it against your heart.
"I didn’t plan any of this darlin’ I hope you know that… it just… well let’s say maybe it was meant to happen, but I ain’t came back here just for that"
"I know Arthur." You laugh.
"But you gotta understand that… I have nothing to offer you here and I…"
"Arthur"
"No no you gotta listen darling. I can’t take you with me. It’s not a good life for you and I don’t want you to get hurt or … I can’t do that. And I can’t have you hating on me because your life won’t be the same. I ain’t no banker darlin’ I ain’t living a respectable life… our camp ain’t a place for you, ain’t’no fancy bed, no afternoon tea, no piano…"
"I don’t care about that Arthur…"
"And i can’t promise you anything. We’re living a dangerous life, ain’t no wish to make you a widow again, you’re young… ya deserve better than this… y'deserve better than me"
"Arthur… I…I am not asking you to marry me I just… I just want to be free." You know it’s a lie. Your heart will never beat this hard for another man.
"Darlin’ that’s not a good idea" he says, his eyes focusing on the fire.
"I don’t have anyone but you in this country now Arthur just…don’t leave me in this town alone"
Arthur sighs, staring back at you. You’re pleading him with your eyes, and he's just...He doesn't want to hurt you more.
"We’ll talk about this in the morning okay?"
You nod, defeated, your cheek finding its place back against his beating heart.
You munch on your lips, fighting to keep the tears at bay. Arthur’s breathing is heavy, moving the tiny hair on your forehead while his hand rest against your upper back.
Having him holding you like this, so close to him is comforting, but it’s not enough to stop your heart from breaking at the prospect of being left behind.
The fire is crackling on the other side of the room.
You close your eyes and breathe out, tears slowly running down your cheeks, invisibly staining Arthur’s skin. He can feel them, the lukewarm drops hitting his chest.
"Take me with you Arthur please…" you breathe out in a timid whisper.
Arthur feels his resolve crumbling. He doesn’t think it is a good idea… but leaving you behind would be a mistake.
"Freedom you say?"
"Yes" you tilt your head up, looking at him, hope lighting up your face. Your heart is pounding in your ribcage.
Arthur shakes his head, smirking.
"Okay then… freedom… that’s something I can do"
You smile so bright, throwing yourself in his arms.
"Thank you Arthur" you whisper before kissing him.
His thumb wipes off the tears from your face.
"Now let’s get some rest, we have a big day ahead of us"
The two of you fall asleep in each other arms, the moonlight illuminating your tangled limbs, warmth spreading in your chest at the feeling that even if you've lost everything, for once in your life, you are exactly where you are supposed to be.
a/n: thank you so much to anyone who read this. It was such a beautiful experience for me, and I hope it was for you too. Reblogs and comments are always greatly appreciated ✨🫶🏻
npt for the lovely moots that showed interest in the wip 💕: @itwasntimethatdidit40 @almostempty @probablyreadinsmut @milla-frenchy
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.
This might sound cringe but I can’t stop thinking of those two scenes from titanic where rose jumps back on the ship despite it sinking and runs to find jack and when they find each other she’s like “you jump I jump right?” or where that old woman refuses to leave her husband and says “wherever you go I go”
So here’s my resident evil version of those two scenes.
So I’m imagining Karl forcing Y/N to go with duke to get her out of the village before the mold takes over the village and the battle he has with Miranda, because in this y/n is a normal human no powers and Karl knows that she would have no chance against Miranda and despite y/n’s protests that she can handle herself since in this she learned how to fight with her fists, guns and knives but Karl wants her to return to her life she had before she came to the village a few years ago.
So reluctantly she goes with duke but she never takes her eyes off Karl while he stares back at her with a sad smile. Y/N then starts thinking about the few years she spent with Karl and how they started off as two idiots bickering and annoyed with each other to eventually friends and lovers and just seeing how much she loves Karl. She realizes she doesn’t want to be without him so she barges out of dukes carriage and starts running towards the village again.
Karl freaks out and calls out her name in panic. Y/N notices that some mold has blocked off where Karl is but she spots another opening a bit further away. Karl runs to where she is heading, while she makes her way through that opening before it seals off with the mold and then she’s running around corners and looking around frantically for Karl.
When she rounds one final corner she sees Karl and runs into his arms crying. Karl then starts saying she’s fucking stupid while kissing her and asking her why she would do something like that.
She says: where ever you go I go right? Referencing the time he followed her around so she wouldn’t get her dumbass killed.
Karl, smiles a little and gives in and kisses her again and hugs her before both of them prepare to take on Miranda.
FULL DISCLOSURE
I'm a sucker for that kind of scenarios for the drama or the romcom vibe of "and then! they won and lived happily ever after"
This is a masterlist of my Karl Heisenberg x female reader smut series. What started as one simple post to get thoughts out of my head turned into a series that I'm obsessed with writing.
origamiaround
ellievsbear
kaledo-art
annaxmalina
pixelskylines
