Modern Pleasures (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)
Summary: Arthur has come and gone, somehow making it to your modern-day life before vanishing back into the past. You left him with a parting gift—a phone—and miraculously, it still works. The two of you begin texting, and conversation quickly turns to things you were too scared to say to each other in person.
Author’s Notes: I know this idea is crazy and doesn’t quite make sense, but roll with it. It was way too fun to write not to post!
Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, smut, high honor Arthur Morgan, sexting, masturbation
AO3 Link
~
Modern Pleasures
Word count: 5548
Your phone lit up, washing the walls of your dark room in light. You reached for it hesitantly, hoping it was who you thought it was but refusing to get your hopes up.
Howdy
You cracked a smile. Of course. Of course that was his response. So it really did work, then. You had gotten your favorite outlaw a phone before sending him back to wherever the hell he came from—the technology his only souvenir from his visit to your time. You doubted it would work when he left, doubted to ever get a response, but you had tried nonetheless not even a day after his absence.
You sent him Hey there cowpoke! about an hour ago, waiting and waiting and realizing he probably hadn’t received it in the first place. But, somehow, miraculously, he had. Maybe, you thought with a laugh, he had taken all that time just to get the ‘damn thing,’ as he called it, to work. That was probably it, as it had taken you days to get him used to the phone, used to texting. The hardest part for him had been typing, as he had never used something even remotely resembling a keyboard. That, and the settings and other complicated features were completely beyond him. You used this to your advantage, making your contact in his phone my favorite girl in the world, knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to change it.
You smiled at the thought of that popping up on his screen as you replied How’s the phone?
There was no read receipt, no bubbles popping up in response. You locked your phone and set it back on your nightstand, attempting some kind of patience. Only, a few minutes later when your phone lit again, you snatched it up so quickly you nearly fumbled it.
I feel like a fool
You barked a laugh, hearing the same sentiments the entire time you were teaching him how to use it.
You’ll get used to it. How’s the past?
You waited another long while, his response coming in after a longer span this time. You wondered what it looked like, the big outlaw hunched over a phone screen, typing one letter a minute. You chuckled at the thought, hoping he stuck to his promise that he wouldn’t show the device to anyone else.
Fine. Less interesting than before. And you?
You’d wondered that, if giving him a phone would ruin his solitude, if his visiting the future would shatter the reality he knew and held so dear.
I’m well, thanks. All’s fine. Then, before you could stop yourself, too happy that you were really hearing from him—I miss you.
It took a while for him to respond, and you worried that you’d said too much. Crossed a line. Nonetheless, your phone lit once more.
I miss you too
Nerves curled in your stomach, happiness blooming within you at the response. The pair of you had gotten close while he was here. Very close. You knew your true feelings extended beyond friendship and wondered if he felt the same, if he had secretly wanted what you did—something more.
Too much of a coward to confront him so soon after he’d left, you responded with courteousness, deciding to leave that for another day.
Well, it’s late here. I should get some rest. Goodnight, Arthur.
You set the phone down on your nightstand and curled into the covers, waiting. While Arthur had been here, he had insisted you sleep in the bed while he take the couch, but he still spent time with you in your room some. He’d left the smell of him behind on your comforter—the smell of being outside, of nature and warmth. You closed your eyes and took that scent in, unbelieving how lucky you were to still be able to talk to him even though the scent—the memory of him being here—would soon fade.
Your phone dinged, and you reached for it one last time for the night.
Goodnight Y/N
You smiled as you set your phone back down, turning over to finally get some sleep. It wasn’t easy—your thoughts were riddled with him, keeping you awake as his time here played through your mind on a loop. Eventually, those thoughts gave way to dreams, and sleep found you all the same.
~
When you woke, you turned to stare at the ceiling. That small ache in your chest returned. You wouldn’t walk into the living room to find him there, waiting for you to rise for the day. You were spoiled by that, ruined by that. You were giddy you could text the man, but it wasn’t the same as being with him. Like the longest long-distance relationship in the world. Nonetheless, you rose, getting dressed in your favorite leggings and old tshirt. You smiled as you did, remembering his reaction to modern clothes. His eyes had blown wide, a blush on his face. Of course you knew why—leggings didn’t leave much to the imagination, a definite change from the baggy skirts that covered most women’s entire lower body in his day.
You decided with a devilish grin to send him a picture, to remind him of the modern world’s perks he was missing out on. You went for your phone only to find a new text from him.
You still sleeping later than the dead then?
You smiled wide. He had risen so early everyday it was a wonder he wasn’t bored to tears by the time you got up hours later. But you cherished your sleep, weren’t about to change that for any man.
You shot back You still putting the sun to shame? and switched to your camera app, looking for the best lighting in the room. You found it and set a timer so that you could get a full body picture, tease the man a little. The lens snapped, and you grabbed your phone just as another text came in.
Something like that
You were surprised at how quickly he responded given he had sent the first text hours ago. That, and his text hadn’t taken minutes to type out this time.
You switched back to your camera, looking at the picture. It wasn’t great, complete with a little bedhead, but you didn’t care, too eager to see his reaction to try taking another. You sent it off to him and switched back to your messages. He was in the middle of texting something as your picture attempted to deliver, the bubbles popping up on his side of the screen. But when the picture sent, he stopped.
You waited, staring at your phone. The bubbles eventually popped up again then went away. Then did it again. You smiled through your teeth. Was this really Arthur Morgan, the big bad outlaw, flustered?
You considered sending something to postface the picture, to give him a little relief, but he responded before you could.
Pretty
You blushed hard enough to feel it burning across your face. He hadn’t ever called you that during your time together. He had only gawked at you the first time he saw your clothes then never brought it up again.
You typed out Thank you ☺️ then deleted the emoji. He wouldn’t know what it was or what it meant anyway. You sent off your thanks and put your phone down, deciding to start your day and give yourself a moment to process his compliment.
Less than an hour passed before you were scrambling for your phone again, unable to resist.
You’re welcome
Ever the gentleman. Despite how much you wanted to say back, you couldn’t work up the nerve. Instead, you responded with something you had been curious about.
What’s it like there? Send me a picture. Then, coming to your senses, Do you remember how?
He read the messages after a few minutes but didn’t respond. Probably because he was attempting to use a phone camera, one of the banes of his existence. You let him be as a message came in from one of your friends, your other friend included in the group text.
We were thinking of going out tonight. You down Y/N?
You considered it. You really needed some time away, time to realign yourself with reality—a world without Arthur. It would be good for you. Still, you thought of staying in and talking with him into the early morning hours. You could do both, you figured. But you tended to get a shade past buzzed every time you went out with your friends, and you didn’t know what would come spilling out of your mouth then. Well, out of your fingers.
You weighed your options and chose your friends, knowing life would move on without you if you let it. You would be sure not to text him if you started to drink too much—would hope your friends would hold you to that.
I’m in. Where to? you responded, excited to be doing something other than wallowing over Arthur’s absence.
After doing some laundry and plopping down on the couch with lunch, happy it was the weekend, you got another text from him. You opened it to find a picture that was…well, stunning, to say the least. Surreal. You hadn’t realized how beautiful the place he called home was. You had only ever seen a replica of it, beautiful on its own through a television screen and a gaming console, but nothing like what he had sent you.
He was on horseback, his horse’s ears lifted in curiosity as it looked on through the sunlight, through the surrounding trees, toward the water that stretched on before him. You stared at it in awe, admired it for a long time before responding. It made your heart ache, longing for a place you would never get to see with your own eyes.
It’s beautiful there, Arthur. I’d love to see it one day.
You noticed it was a live photo and pressed down on it, your ears lighting at the sound of the wind through the trees, of a nearby birdcall. Arthur had brought the phone back down at the last second, making the tail end of it a blurry mess of colors. You laughed at that, knowing he wouldn’t understand the concept of a live photo no matter how much you tried to explain it to him.
We’ll find a way to get you here. I’ll show you around he responded.
You smiled sadly, feeling that ache tighten. As much as you hoped for his words to be true, you knew it was foolish. Just a dream. But you played along, happy to imagine the pretty little picture it painted anyway.
How kind of you, Mr. Morgan
The afternoon passed as the pair of you talked back and forth, his usual manner bleeding through the phone, the banter between you making you smile.
It eventually came time for you to pick out what you would wear for the night, how to do your hair and makeup accordingly. After checking with your friends to be sure you were on the same page, you decided on a silky, short red dress, one that hugged your body perfectly. It would certainly make the cowboy blush, at least. You kept that thought in the back of your mind as you fixed your hair and added some dramatic makeup to your eyes. It was simple yet cutting, just enough to catch the eye. You smiled at yourself in the mirror before checking the time, noting your friends would be there to pick you up any minute. You added a few pieces of jewelry before shooting a text to Arthur.
My friends and I are about to go into town. No promises that I’ll be a good conversationalist for the remainder of the night
You waited for his response, debating whether or not to also warn him about what would come through the phone rather than what wouldn’t. He texted back before you could.
How you mean?
Oh. Of course. You kept forgetting how different the lives you led were.
Women go out to get as drunk and rowdy as the men do now. Maybe more
He started to respond when you added I just mean I may drink too much to text very well
He started typing again then stopped. You knew he didn’t realize it, that his hesitation was so obvious through the screen. He stayed silent, the screen blank like he had put his phone away. You thought that odd and promised to make it up to him later with a picture of you dressed to the nines.
Your friends texted you saying they had arrived and you went to meet them, checking your phone one last time before you got in the car. Still no response from him. You pursed your lips and stashed your phone, choosing to focus on having a good time with your friends instead. You got in and barely greeted them before the three of you were speeding off into the night, up to no good.
~
You had started off at a bar that had more of a laid back atmosphere, good to drink in but a bit dull. After catching up with the two of them on careers and sex lives and everything in between (you mentioned Arthur but not the strange circumstances that brought you together, only that he lived far away), you all deemed the place a bust and decided on a bar that would hold nothing but fun—Rowdy’s, the one with a fitting name. The three of you called an Uber and were there in no time, dancing and drinking enough to have a ball. It was some of the most fun you’d had in a while. But no matter the entertainment, your mind kept going back to your phone, back to the man on the other end of it. Tipsy enough to text him and not quite drunk enough to say something stupid, you started to reach out only to find two new texts from him.
Sorry, someone almost caught me on this damn thing earlier. Then, Enjoy yourself
You grinned like a kid, couldn’t help it. You tried to catch one of your friend’s attention to take a picture of you propped up at the bar but couldn’t, the music thumping too loud. A man saw you waving and came over, so you asked him instead. “Hey, could you take my picture? Need something hot to send to someone.”
He snatched up your phone. “Ooh absolutely! Okay, pose.” As you adjusted your dress and crossed one leg over the other, he said, “Is it a boy? Should I be jealous?” You laughed open-mouthed, and he took candids of you doing so.
“Definitely,” you teased. “He’s as fine as they come.”
He opened his mouth wide in feigned jealousy then went back to posing you. “Okay good, now put your hands over your knee and smile. Yes, yes! Just like that. Oh these are going to be so good.” He snapped a few more. “Now give me a little smirk. Like ‘you know you want me’ smirk. Yes, perfect!” He took a few more, smiling in delight. “So perfect, oh my god. You look literally edible in these.”
You laughed, truly appreciating it. “Thank you!”
He looked through a few to be sure they worked then handed the phone back to you. “There should be plenty in there. They’re all good, who am I kidding! What a lucky lover boy!”
You grinned, wondering what Arthur would have to say about being called a lover boy. “I appreciate it,” you called out over the music.
“No problem at all!” he said before squeezing back into the crowd on the dance floor.
You looked through the pictures, liking the ones of you smiling but knowing the ones of you smirking like a cat were better, would have the effect you wanted them to. You picked your favorite, admiring the perfect angle and lighting the guy had captured of you in this killer dress. You shot it off to Arthur, your heart racing.
You locked your phone, too nervous to watch it, and downed the rest of your drink before moving back to the dance floor. You joined your friends in dancing your heart out, trying to keep your nerves away and your happiness at the forefront.
After a half hour, you mentioned another bar that had both of your friends pulling you away, calling a second Uber. You were off to the bar that was as dingy as it was fun in minutes, checking your phone as soon as the car left the curb.
Damn.
That was his response. Your heart pounded at the word as you shot back What?
He typed and typed and typed, and you wondered whether he was again unsure of what to say or trying to text a whole paragraph.
You were less than a minute from the bar when he finally texted back.
Guess I ain’t ever seen you dolled up before
You were about to push, about to ask him how he felt about that, when he sent another message.
You look good.
You felt a familiar rushing of blood from your heart straight down as the car came to a stop. You got out behind the other two, your eyes never leaving the screen as you responded Wish you were here. I look even better in person
He read it and didn’t respond. Your friends were half leading, half dragging you into the bar, scolding you for being glued to your phone, attempting to snatch it right out of your hands.
“Fine, okay!” you said with a smile, putting it away and going inside. Despite walking in, being swallowed by the crowd, ordering a drink so strong it could knock you on your ass, your mind was miles away. It was with him, on that phone, in another world.
People swarmed you as you downed your drink. The air was thick with body heat, sweat already beading on your skin. Or maybe that was from your nerves. You didn’t expect it, his response. But you were drunk enough to flirt right back. You knew one thing—depending on how far he took it, this would lead to a conversation you only dreamt of. And you had to be a shit-ton drunker for that.
You quickly ordered another drink and downed it too. You joined your friends on the dance floor, trying your best to stick with them and avoid the gazes of men who occasionally looked to the three of you. You stayed all of ten minutes before you couldn’t take it anymore, the anticipation eating you alive. You shouted to them about another drink over the screamingly loud music before making your way to the bar. You sat at it, ordering your third as your pulled your phone out.
Shit, I wish I was too
You couldn’t keep the grin off your face. He wanted to be here. With you. As your drink arrived and you took a sip that was harsh enough to kill a man, you responded before you could change your mind.
What would you do if you were?
You wondered what he thought of it, saying these things to each other. He of course had no clue what sexting was, but was there some version of it in his day? Naughty letter writing maybe?
Drink with you. Dance with you.
Oh. Maybe this was more innocent than you thought it was. He texted again.
Hold you close. Tell you things I’d be a fool to say when the sun came up
Heat shot between your legs and you crossed them, taking another long sip of alcohol. I’d like that. What kinds of things?
Before he could respond, your friend came up behind you and snatched your phone out of your hands.
“Aha!” she said, seeing that the conversation was between you and Arthur. “Knew it was the mystery man.”
“Hey!,” you said, scrambling to get your phone back. Your other friend came up and swatted your hand away as they put their heads together, reading every last word of the night’s conversation. You were praying it was just that, that they weren’t clued in on where exactly he resided.
You rolled your eyes at them when their mouths fell open in unison, your face heating up. Then they looked to you.
“Y/N. Y/L/N. You didn’t tell us you were literally sexting this man! Jesus christ, no wonder you’re glued to this thing!”
“Wait, he’s texting back,” the other said before you pounced and snatched it away, not wanting them to see another word. “Hey!”
“Forgive me for wanting a little privacy,” you said with an innocent smile.
They both looked at you with shit-eating grins before one pulled her phone out, her fingers flying across the screen.
“What?” you asked. She didn’t answer. “What are you doing?”
She snorted. “Ordering you an Uber.” She locked her phone and pocketed it, looking back to you with that same grin. “So you can get home and finish that naughty little conversation. Only on one condition though—you tell us everything tomorrow.” The other nodded profusely as you rolled your eyes.
You sighed at them. “Fine. Tomorrow.”
They both smiled at you as one ushered you back to the bar, the other following. “Your Uber will be here in eight minutes. Come down some shots with us before you go.”
~
You arrived back home, your nerves heightening at every step. Arthur’s response before you left had been I’d tell you you’re beautiful and that picture took my breath away
You thought on a response the whole ride home, drawing a blank. Your brain was fried with the compliment. You couldn’t believe he actually admitted that to you, that the man you were pining over felt that way about you. But how would you steer this conversation where you wanted it to go? Is that where he wanted it to go?
You stepped into your room and took off your heels, plopping down on the bed. You contemplated a bit before coming up with You’re too kind. Tell me more so that you could better feel him out. Despite the small break in the conversation, he texted right back. Slowly, but certain.
I’d tell you how bad I want to kiss you, seeing you like that
Damn. He really did feel the same, then. Your heart leapt with excitement.
You texted back And I’d ask you how come you haven’t already. Been waiting for you to
You smiled at his next text. Seriously?
Absolutely. I’ve wanted you to kiss me since the day you came here
He typed a response then deleted it, typed then deleted it. Your alcohol logged brain thought to send ‘wanted to do more than just kiss you’ but you fought off the urge, not wanting to push him too far too fast.
After about two minutes, he texted back.
Well I wish I could. Wish I’d known while we was still together
You couldn’t believe your luck. Had he really wanted you back all this time? You had wasted your time together, truly wasted it. What a pair of fools.
With a pounding heart, you shot back How would you kiss me? Describe it to me.
He seemed to ponder this. He read it and didn’t text back for a moment. Then, Slow. I’d savor every second
You felt that heat rush between your legs again as you imagined it.
The lip gloss I wear tastes like strawberries. Just for your information you responded, teasing him.
Good thing I like strawberries he said.
That made you imagine his lips on yours, warm and sure. You would open your mouth for him, letting him taste you. God, would it be perfect. You suddenly snapped, releasing that hold on your desires, letting whatever you had to say come spilling out.
Say you did find a way to come back here somehow and you were kissing me like that
He shot back Yeah?
What would you do next?
He hesitated a moment. Then, You know what.
Enlighten me.
He typed again and deleted it, the bubbles appearing and disappearing twice. You were out of patience, taught with need. He finally responded You really want me to text that?
You laughed, knowing right where this was headed. You hiked up your dress and moved your underwear out of the way, brushing a finger against your slickness. You let out a sigh, knowing just what to say back.
I’ve already got a hand between my legs, Arthur.
He took no time to respond.
Goddamn, woman.
When he didn’t go on, you sent I’m waiting.
He took a while to respond, and when he did you realized it was because the text was a long one, one that would take time for someone who had never used a keyboard.
I’d get you back to your room. Push you down on your bed. Climb over you and kiss you even harder. I’d strip all those clothes away and admire that beautiful body. I’d kiss your breasts while I traced a hand down and felt how wet you were for me
His words drove you mad. You teased your finger around your entrance, imagining your hand was his, imagining he was doing all he had described. You suddenly needed your clothes off, needed everything out of the way. You sat up and unzipped your dress, shimmying out of it. You took your bra off and tossed it aside, doing the same with your underwear. When you were bare, you laid back down and ran your finger around your nipple before bringing it back to your clit, pressing down enough to make you whine. You texted back with your other hand, slowly.
God, I want you so bad. Tell me more
He responded You first
So you had gotten him as worked up as he had you. You brought your hand up to text faster, the absence of your fingers a disappointment to your needy body.
I’m back home, in my room, on my bed. Naked. I’m touching myself and imagining you’re the one doing it
He shot right back Christ, I wish I could see that
On a whim, you smiled and responded You can
You switched to your camera and turned the lamp on to give him something to see. You propped yourself up a little so that your breasts looked better and brought your hand down between your legs, taking a picture. It was angled low enough that he could see where your arm led but not low enough to see what your hand was doing. Your breasts were on full display for him, a needy look on your face. You fired it off to him, followed by I can show you more if you’d like
He read it and didn’t immediately respond. You were willing to bet he was too busy shoving his hands down his pants. Or maybe he had already done that and was trying to wring some pleasure out of himself instead. After a minute had passed, he said Show me more
You grinned. You first
He again hesitated. You were willing to bet he was a little embarrassed about that one, and even though you desperately wanted to see him touch himself, you let it slide and added Or you can continue describing to me all the things you’d do to me if you were here
The bubbles popped up once more, and you brought your hand back down and rubbed a finger over your clit, wondering whether you would get a text or a picture. You were bound up in pleasure when he finally responded.
I’d push a finger into you and feel you for the first time. You’d feel so good, all tight and hot
You were halfway through a response when he added I’d start pumping in and out of you, watching that pretty face of yours draw up with pleasure
Damn would I love that. Can’t wait for you to do it to me you said.
I can’t wait to do it either
You sucked in a breath, a harsh swirl of your finger making your body jolt with feeling.
Are you touching yourself? you asked him.
Yes.
Good.
You imagined it, his hand around his cock, the man pumping himself slowly. It was enough to make you bite your lip, the image sending so much feeling between your legs that you clenched down around nothing, your finger on your clit driving you higher still.
You switched back to your camera and spread your legs, moving your finger down to your entrance. You pushed into yourself just barely, the wetness there soaking the tip of your finger as you angled the phone. You covered your clit with the rest of your finger and hand so that he couldn’t see much apart from where your finger was hidden, a gleam of wetness there. You snapped the picture and brought the phone back up, admiring. It showed just enough, not too much, but was still erotic as hell. You sent it to him.
He read it and didn’t respond. You wondered if he was working himself over, trying to reach his high from the picture alone. You certainly would have if he had sent you a picture like that. You imagined it instead, his face tight as he worked himself over. You brought your hand back to your clit at the thought and swirled wildly, bucking your hips and rocketing yourself back toward your undoing when he responded.
My lord. You’re beautiful. You that wet for me?
You were climbing too high to respond. You tossed your phone on the bed and gave in to your own hands, moving the other down to pump a finger in and out of you. You imagined him on top of you, what it would feel like to have him inside of you. You bucked your hips in rhythm with your hand, your other running wild across your clit, imagining he was fucking you all the while. You felt your climax nearing, the feeling like lightning coursing through you. You were seconds away when you moaned his name, the word barely more than a breath on your lips. Your body spasmed suddenly, and you felt the familiar white-hot bliss, your eyes rolling back in your head as your orgasm consumed you, as you thought of nothing but him, him, him.
You came down with panting breaths, stilling. You would give anything to have him here, to have him find his own pleasure with you. But, you figured, even though that wasn’t a possibility, you could still help him find it.
You shot to him More than wet. I just came on my fingers from imagining you were here, fucking me into this mattress
He read and didn’t reply. It wasn’t hard to figure why, the man probably so overcome with arousal he was close to spilling into his own hands. You tried to picture it, how he would look all strung out on the feeling of that high coursing through him. After a minute passed, he texted back.
I think I’m starting to like this thing
You laughed and shot back I knew you would. Did you find your pleasure, Arthur? All for me?
All for you, miss
You grinned at the nickname.
Good. Those pictures are there for good by the way, for whenever you may need them.
I may need them a lot. Gets lonely around here
You smiled into your phone. Just wait until we figure this time jump thing out. I’ll make that loneliness fade right away
Oh yeah?
Yeah. I’ll let you fuck me good and proper
Jesus, woman. Then, You can’t say things like that and expect a man to keep his sanity
You pushed. I’ll be yelling your name, letting you take me so good it’ll be all you think about for days
It’s already all I think about, and I ain’t even done it yet
Good. You stay thinking about it until I see you next
Is that a promise? You smiled at the question, wanting to keep this conversation going into next week.
For you, Arthur, that’s a guarantee.
You locked your phone and set it on your chest, smiling at the ceiling. He’d told you he had feelings for you. He’d more than proved it. Suddenly, the weight of not being able to see him in person wasn’t so heavy. You weren’t so upset over a reality that couldn’t be anymore. Maybe, you thought, just maybe, it was because one day you would see him again. He had gotten here once. Who was to say he couldn’t do it again? Couldn’t take you with him when he went back?
You relished in the thought as another text came in and you picked your phone back up in a heartbeat, fully willing to stay awake forever if it meant getting to hear his fondness for you through the phone, across worlds, written in every word.
Oooo! In regards to the WIP game, I always love your work. Any of these will be amazing.
Of your list, I am intrigued with “The Trouble with Two”
Do tell…..
Thank you truly 🥹
I’m so glad you asked about that one because I’m having trouble deciding what to do with it. It’s either going to be reader flirting with Captain Monroe because she knows Arthur will pay her back real good for it later (🥵) or reader inviting Monroe to a hotel room with her and Arthur and seeing how much Arthur will let her get away with before he snaps. Either way, it’s gonna be very low honor Arthur and I’m already fanning myself over what I have written 😅
May make a poll on which people would prefer later!
Rules: Make a post with the names of all your files in your WIP folder and tag as many people as you have WIPs. People send an ask about the title that most intrigues them, then you post a snippet or tell them something about it.
Notes: I’ve been in a writing slump lately and figured this would be the perfect motivator! Thank you for tagging me @photo1030 🫶🏼💖
18+ only
High Honor Arthur:
Modern Pleasures: Sending Arthur back to his time with a phone (sexting with Arthur)
Cover: Finding an interesting way to blend in with the crowd while chasing a bounty (first kiss with Arthur)
Low Honor Arthur:
The Trouble with Two: Rousing Arthur’s temper by setting your sights on another man (Arthur x reader, Captain Monroe x reader)
Lady Luck is a Cowboy: Catching Arthur’s attention before your fellow working girls do (public sex)
Dual Honor Arthur:
Untitled: Going on a score with the man you have feelings for (male reader x Arthur)
Honor, Amongst Women: Finding that Arthur has two sides to him (two parts, high honor and low honor)
Once you get the chance, you should do a fic about Arthur and a female reader, where he places the hat on her head. 'The cowboy hat rule.' And the reader pretends to be oblivious, but of course she knows what it means 🤞🏻
Thank youuu for this one. It ended up being too fun! Sorry it took me so long to get it right, but I veered in a different direction halfway through it and am so glad I did 🙌🏼 Hope you like it!
Cut the Shit (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)
Summary: You partake in your first drinking game with the Van der Linde Gang and a certain outlaw you have your eye on.
Author’s Notes: Cowboy hat rule, anyone?? Thank you for this request, and I apologize for it taking me ten thousand years to get it right. But please enjoy Arthur being flirty and letting loose (God knows he needs it) 😜
Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, smut, high honor Arthur Morgan, drunk sex
AO3 Link
~
Cut the Shit
Word count: 5475
“I ain’t doing it.”
Arthur simultaneously spoke and turned his back, a clear sign that he was done with the conversation. But his usual bluntness carried no weight next to four drunken women.
“Oh, somebody get a drink in him, already!” This from Karen, and Arthur hastened away anyway, much to your dismay. Maybe it was the beer in your hand, or maybe it was that pesky little kick of excitement that reared its head when he was around, but you did what a wiser version of you wouldn’t and stood.
“I’ll go talk him around,” you mumbled, already headed for him. The women cheered you on at your back as you went.
The bastard was quick on his feet, you’d give him that. You went to round Dutch’s tent and found him already near the horses where John and Javier had cornered him.
“Come join us, Arthur. The women want to play cut the shit,” Javier said with a beer already in his hand.
Arthur made a show of declining, drawing out his words to make them plain and clear. “Nah, I know better than that. You boys go on.”
“Told you,” Javier said, nudging John.
“You ain’t no fun no more,” John rasped. “What the hell else you got to do?”
“Someone’s got to protect the camp while you lot lose your heads,” Arthur replied, picking up a repeater from where it laid propped against a nearby wagon.
“Charles just went out,” John said. “Try again.”
You hung back, curious to see if the men could convince him after all.
“Two entrances into camp. Two guards.”
“Bullshit,” John said, a grin growing across his face in the lantern light. “You’re just goin’ yellow over what I’ll ask you about in the game.”
“Over who, you mean?” Javier corrected him, and both men snickered.
Now that was…new.
Arthur’s expression flattened. “I ain’t got time for this.” He started to push past both men when you determined it was now or never.
“Arthur?”
He turned to find you approaching him, his expression softening a bit. John and Javier broke out into muffled laughter and both tucked tail, going to join the game at the campfire. Arthur shot their backs a nasty look but answered you calmly. “Whatcha need?”
“Figured you’d be nice enough to me not to say no,” you said with a shy smile, only now realizing this seemed a little desperate.
“I’m on guard duty tonight,” he assured you, though his voice still had that calmness in it—a gentleness he normally never sported.
“Oh. Right.”
When you looked to the ground in sudden embarrassment, he went on. “But…” He seemed to steel himself, like he knew it was a bad idea but gave in anyway. “Shit, why not? I guess one round won’t hurt,” he said, waving over toward the campfire.
“Oh, great!” you said with enough sincerity that heat bloomed across your face as he went to return the repeater. “I already saved you a seat,” you joked, trying to hide your excitement. That was easier said than done as the two of you walked back to the campfire together.
When you’d first joined the gang a few months back, Arthur hadn’t given you much notice. He was kind enough toward you, but he was a busy man. He had to provide for many mouths and a new one besides, and he wasn’t in camp very often as it was. But when he talked to you for the first time late one night, getting to know more about how you had come to run with an outlaw gang and telling you about how he’d done so himself, you found yourself hanging on to his every word, taken with the man. You’d written it off at the time until he started to hang around camp more often. He was always helping out or ribbing folks in that easy way of his. Not long after, you started to feel a happy flutter in your stomach every time you saw him. Mostly, you’d been trying to ignore the feeling ever since. But it was harder to do when you had alcohol in your system and he had agreed to this only for you, settling on the log at the campfire right beside you.
Arthur heaved an annoyed sigh when the group started needling him, surprised that he’d joined.
“All right, all right. Pipe down before I leave.”
Then there was a chorus of ‘No!’s from the women, you included. And when he caught your eye and grinned, your heart gave a tiny little squeeze of delight.
Lenny handed him a beer from his right, smiling wide. “Good of you to join, Arthur. I was afraid we’d be outnumbered.”
He made an even four men to the group’s four women—Karen, Tilly, Mary-Beth, and you.
“Couldn’t have that,” he drawled, pulling the top off the beer. You tried hard to keep from watching his every movement and turned to the group instead.
“So, explain to me again how this works. We just ask each other questions?” you said, never having played whatever game they were suggesting.
“Good questions,” Tilly said.
“Prying questions,” Mary-Beth added. “You pick someone from the group and ask something, then they have to answer it truthfully. If they don’t want to answer, they drink. If they answer it but we don’t think it’s the full truth, we say ‘cut the shit’, and they have to drink anyway then answer it until we’re satisfied. Hence the name.”
“And if they answer it truthfully?” you asked.
“You don’t drink and it’s the next person’s turn,” Karen said. “But that don’t usually happen with this lot. Especially as the night wears on. Now, who wants to go first?”
“Me!” Tilly said from her seat between Mary-Beth and Karen. And just like that, the game began and you tried hard to think of a worthy question.
Tilly looked straight to Javier. “Where’s that stash you been on about hidden around camp?”
Javier sported a devilish grin and looked Tilly straight in the eye, taking a long pull from his beer instead of answering.
“You’re no fun,” Tilly pouted.
“My turn,” Karen said. “What’s going on with you and Abigail?” She smiled at John as she lifted her beer to her lips.
“Ain’t nothin’ you don’t already whisper about,” he retorted. “She wants a husband and a father for Jack. I ain’t it.”
Karen narrowed her eyes. “Cut the shit, John Marston.”
John scoffed but drank dutifully, already drunk enough to admit, “She won’t let me take her to bed neither.”
“I knew it,” Karen said while you and the other women squealed with delight. If the game had already progressed this much in just two questions, maybe you would eventually be brave enough to aim one at Arthur.
“Go on, then,” Karen said to you, satisfied with John’s answer.
You turned back toward her. “How about…how many men in the gang have you been with?”
The other women voiced their approval of that question, and you had to admit it was a bit forward of you, but so be it.
Karen chuckled at you. “You ain’t meek, I’ll give you that. Two.”
“Two!” Tilly and Mary-Beth screeched in unison.
“Who?” you pushed.
Karen drank anyway but shook her head. “You only get one question. You’re up, Arthur.”
Looking at him was a reward of its own in the warm firelight. Especially when he smirked and repeated, “Who?”
You turned to see Karen’s face redden, but she didn’t hesitate. “Sean and Davey.”
The girls shrieked their surprise again at the latter name, but Arthur didn’t pry. He just smiled and tipped his beer to her before taking a sip. Like his handsomeness wasn’t making it hard for you to breathe.
Then it was Lenny’s turn. “Mary-Beth, what’s the most embarrassing score you ever got away with?”
You fully intended to listen, but you suddenly felt Arthur’s leg brush against yours as he turned slightly to mumble something to John, and it took everything in you to act like you were paying attention to Mary-Beth. Your heart pounded a wild beat as John’s turn came.
“Who you got your eye on these days, Morgan?” he asked. And then you really had to hide your excitement, especially when Arthur stayed dead silent, opting to take a long drink instead. Mary-Beth and Karen booed him.
“Pussy,” John said to him.
“Bad manners in front of the women, Marston.”
“Arthur Morgan!” Mary-Beth cried, offended. “What kind of game do you think this is?”
“She’s got you there,” Javier said on a laugh, and all you could do was join him in his laughter so as not to lose it completely.
The game continued and you got by relatively unscathed. You were enjoying your beer and all the banter shot back and forth. Arthur even went into the second round even though he’d only promised one, seemingly too distracted to notice. It was harmless fun and a lot of it, but the game took a turn when someone brought out a bottle of whiskey. Then one round turned to three. Then the game turned even worse when someone aimed a blunt question at you.
Javier had just asked if you wanted to get with any men in camp. You could feel your face go red the second the words left his mouth. But there was no use lying—they would sniff that out in a heartbeat. “Yes,” you said.
That got everyone in a bother. Arthur whooped with the rest of them, and you tried to hide the fact that his excitement made your face go even redder.
Mary-Beth was up next, and her one-word question was, “Who?”
You drank. The group all hollered then, even Arthur who you could tell was starting to feel the effects of the whiskey.
Tilly was next. “Is the man sitting at this campfire?”
You drank again. Shit, you weren’t that obvious, were you?
Karen quieted the group down and looked to Arthur this time. “Is the reason you don’t want to admit who you’re sweet on because she’s in the gang?”
Arthur took the whiskey from your hand and drank. Now you had to physically calm yourself down and keep from watching as his lips kissed the bottle you’d just drank from. Not only that, but wasn’t Arthur sweet on some woman he knew from way back? Could it be possible that he treated you like he did for reasons that went beyond politeness?
“Cowards!” Karen shouted at both of you. “You don’t answer something sooner or later and we’ll run out of whiskey.”
Javier pulled a second bottle of whiskey out, and right then, you saw your chance. If the whole group was drunk enough, it didn’t much matter what you admitted.
The game kept on, questions fired around the circle left and right. There were a few more than usual aimed at you and Arthur, but not enough that you’d said anything foolish. Yet.
When it got to be your turn the sixth time—or was it the seventh?—you turned and stared Arthur down.
He stared right back with lazy amusement, pulling from the whiskey bottle he still had in his hands from the last question. The women giggled and the men chuckled at your attention toward him, but you didn’t look away. You knew you wanted to ask him something but had no clue what to say, only that you liked holding his attention and that you couldn’t flat out ask the man about his feelings for you without falling into a puddle of embarrassment.
It took you a beat to come up with something, but finally you said, “What’s the best sex you’ve ever had?”
Harmless. Right? But then Arthur was staring you down with that smirk of his, and the group was making enough of a ruckus for Dutch to yell out of his tent for the lot of you to quiet down. And even worse, to your immense surprise, Arthur answered this one.
“Had a girl out back of a saloon once, right beside the back door. We was out in the wide open for anyone to see, but once things got heated, well…we didn’t much care.”
What you wouldn’t give to have been that girl. Arthur still held your gaze as you laughed and clapped with the rest of them. But then it was his turn, and he never looked away from you.
“What was your best?” he asked, and the playful lilt in his voice killed you. He was…was he flirting with you?
“Some stranger who asked me to sit with him while he played poker,” you said without hesitation, holding Arthur’s heated gaze. “Poker table was in a private room. Once everyone else left he…he took me right there on top of the table. Poker chips, cards, and all.”
That really made the lot of them shout. Dutch had no hope of a good night’s sleep now. And maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight either. Because Arthur’s gaze flicked to your mouth when he drank from the whiskey bottle again.
Every single question for the remainder of the round was aimed at you or Arthur. You both answered some, drank some, and caught each other’s gazes a few times. And then Karen asked the inevitable.
“How you feel about Y/N, Arthur?”
Your heart beat so hard you could feel it through your whole chest when you turned to look at Arthur. He was already looking at you.
“Y/N?” he said with that playfulness still in his voice. He paused. There was dead silence around the campfire as he studied you. Then his grin faded just enough for you to know it wasn’t the whiskey talking—it was him. “I think she’s my kind of woman,” he said lowly, never taking his eyes off you. The others exploded in a ruckus of approval, Lenny even leaning over to give Arthur a shove, but the outlaw wouldn’t stop staring at you. He just let the grin take over his face once more before reaching for his hat, removing it, and placing it on your head with a playful shake. The others really lost it then. Wait, didn’t the hat mean—
Karen elbowed you in the side, drawing your attention as she laughed and clapped and carried on. In fact, all of them had officially lost their heads over their senior gun’s rare confession, but all you could do was laugh with them, your face burning red.
“Last question!” Karen announced, getting the group’s attention. She nudged you again and said, “Make it count.”
You turned to Arthur, taking a breath, settling yourself. You knew just what to ask, and you had no qualms about asking it thanks to the whiskey. “You know the rule about a man’s hat?”
“What rule?” he said with a knowing grin.
“Cut the shit!” the three other women screamed in unison.
“Cut the shit, Arthur,” you told him. “You know just what rule I’m talking about, don’t you?”
“I think so,” he said, his eyes flicking to your mouth again as he lifted the whiskey bottle to his lips. “Think you may need to jog my memory.” The others reached a loudness you don’t know them capable of. You ignored them completely, looking at Arthur’s full lips as he took a pull from the bottle. Imagining what they would feel like against yours.
“I think I can manage that,” you answered lowly.
Without another word, Arthur stood tall, his gaze never leaving yours as he held a hand out to you. “‘Scuse us,” he said to the others, but his attention remained only on you. Your heart pounded so fast it nearly hurt, but you took his hand and let him help you up. Then he was walking at your back, leading you away with a gentle touch as the most drunken outburst of the night filled the camp with noise.
This couldn’t be happening. Right? This man you had pined so hard over, taking you past all the nagging and ribbing from everyone else, past all the tents, all the way to the wood line—it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. But there he was, softly pulling your hand to turn you to him in the low light. He was close enough for your nerves to get the better of you, but to your surprise, there was a gentleman buried down deep within him. “Can I kiss you, darlin’?”
His exaggerated drawl from the whiskey was so endearing, you couldn’t answer fast enough. “Please do.”
He chuckled and leaned in, and you could have sworn your heart actually stopped in its own anticipation when he tilted his head to avoid his hat on your head, closing the space between you. The touch of his lips was soft. Tender. A proverbial question mark, curious in all the right ways. Then he backed a breath away, and without hesitation, kissed you again. His hands circled your back this time, tugging you closer.
Whatever you had imagined kissing Arthur would be like, this was so much better. You were hyper-aware of the way he came back for more, still gentle but wanting this time. He had always been polite to you, and you’d never imagined you would feel that in an embrace such as this. But you did as he cradled you softly, not being forceful in the way he took your mouth. It was easy desire you felt from him when you finally realized that you’d been an idiot all this time—he wanted you just as you wanted him. You could feel it in every brush of his lips.
Accepting that undeniable passion, your hands found their way up his broad shoulders and around his neck, into the hair at his nape. You kissed him back, and the motion lost all gentleness. You turned greedy, and so did he, your tongue pushing past his lips and finding his. The warmth of his mouth was perfect. The way he answered your sudden passion with that of his own was perfect. All of it was so good that you knew you were too eager and drunk and would have him right here and now if the pair of you weren’t so close to camp.
“This hat rule,” you said, breaking away but still breathing heavy. His mouth was inches from yours, and you couldn’t resist rising upward and kissing him again. The taste of him and the whiskey was making your head spin.
He responded with a drawn out, “Hm?” even as you kissed each other.
You parted again but kept your hands around his neck. “Does it only include a kiss?”
“Or two,” he said, giving you a soft peck on the lips. “Or more.” Then he kissed your cheek as you laughed, then your jaw. Then your throat. Lord, did that burn you up. You let him kiss you over and over, working his way back to your mouth.
When he kissed your lips again, his tongue finding yours, you lost your head. You tangled your fingers in his and brought them to your clothed breast, letting his huge hand touch you there. The second he rolled his palm against your nipple, you let out a moan.
“Damn,” he said on an exhale as he broke the kiss.
“What?” you blurted, wondering if you’d taken things too far.
He ran his hand down over your side instead. “We’re too drunk for this,” he mumbled. He met your gaze in the dark, those pretty eyes of his wanting but reserved.
That look alone made you realize how much this meant to him—as much as it meant to you. But his politeness, along with the whiskey, wouldn’t be stopping you in the slightest. You had wanted this too much for too long.
“Hm,” you replied, eyes dropping to his broad chest. “Would be bad of us to take this much farther, wouldn’t it?” When you looked back up at him, you made sure he could see the playful expression you wore.
He eyed your mischievous face, then his hat on your head. A slight smile turned his lips. “Plumb wrong.”
“Agreed,” you said, leaning up to kiss him again. “We really shouldn’t.” You muttered the words right into his mouth.
“Would be downright uncivilized,” he said low, pulling you in tighter as his lips met yours.
“Crass.” Another kiss.
“Brutish.”
That one made you smile. You pulled back and met his eye. “No better than a couple of outlaws.”
He grinned. Then he was picking you up effortlessly and throwing you over his shoulder. You squealed and caught his hat just in time before it fell to the ground.
“Outlaws it is,” he joked, taking you farther into the woods.
This was part of what you loved about him—his ability to fall into a piece of himself that was so playful when taken by the bottle. Some folks got mean, some got sad, but Arthur just got fun. And you needed some of that. Desperately.
When he set you down right in front of a giant pine, your back set against it, he still wore a smile. “As long as you swear to me you would want this whether we was drunk or not.”
“I swear, Arthur,” you said, finding it hard not to stare at his perfectly kissable lips. “Been wanting you for months now.”
His smile grew cocky. “Months, huh?” He leaned in until you were pressed up against the tree, the back of his hat brim brushing the trunk.
“Ages,” you assured him, never breaking your gaze from his mouth.
When Arthur leaned in and kissed you this time, his hands came lovingly along with him. His thumbs pressed lightly against your sides, running down the length of your ribs until he was at your hips, tugging you closer. He explored your mouth with his tongue, and as good as that was, you couldn’t focus on anything but the way your hips had aligned with his. He was…Christ, he wanted this too. Badly. His erection pressed against your front. Your head spun from actually having him like this—not just imagining it.
You reached up and took his face in your hands, a desperate edge overcoming you. He let out a low groan when your hips moved against his with the motion. It was the most attractive thing you’d ever heard him utter.
You broke away and let out a whispered demand. “Undress me.”
“You sure?” he asked one last time.
“Yes, Arthur.”
That grin of his began to appear as he reached for his hat on your head. You caught his hand. “Leave the hat.”
His eyebrow kicked up. And when you didn’t respond, just wore that playful expression once more, he snickered. “All right then.”
You laughed with him as his hands moved to your shirt buttons and began separating them one by one. You lost patience and returned the favor, undoing his shirt. Each inch of chest exposed lit a fire in you. He had chest hair over those strength-bound muscles, every bit the man you knew him to be. And the more you saw of him, the faster your heart beat, knowing this was really Arthur. Really the man you had hoped would notice you, let alone return your favor.
Arthur peeled your shirt away then went back to kissing you as you slowly tugged his suspenders over his shoulders, then his shirt sleeves. Each touch over his skin was a riot of feeling, getting to have him this way.
Once his shirt fell to the ground, you looked down to see him like this. Pants, gun belt, no shirt, all desire. His chest heaved with each breath at the effect you had on him.
Your attention only tore away when you felt his fingers on the straps of your chemise. “May I?”
“The quicker the better,” you teased.
He laughed, and for all his usual bravado, you could have sworn there was a hint of nervousness in the noise. But he kept on, slowly sliding the straps down, his gaze heavy on your chest as your breasts were revealed.
His hand cautiously moved up to your breast, touching you there, running his thumb across your nipple. You let out a loud breath, letting him do as he pleased. Then both large hands moved down again, slowly skimming around you to where your skirt was buttoned. He undid it and let it fall to the ground in a heap, then grabbed the edge of your chemise again. This time, when he tugged it down your body, he knelt. His knuckles brushed your skin in places, leaving a trail of fire and want behind. He helped you out of your remaining clothing. And then you were entirely bare, holding onto his strong shoulder for support as he threw your belongings aside.
Like he couldn’t resist, Arthur’s hands felt your skin all the way back up as he stood tall again. You weren’t shy in the slightest, letting him look his fill. And look he did, at your breasts, at your legs, at where they met.
“Knew you were a beauty,” he said lightly, taking your face in his hands. He kissed you softly—just a peck.
You blushed hard at his words, and the whiskey loosened your tongue. “How long have you thought about me this way?”
His hands dropped down again, exploring, kneading over your breasts and nipples. But his eyes didn’t part from yours when he answered. “Too long.”
“Cut the shit,” you said on a smile. “Not an answer.”
Arthur moved forward, his mouth coming down against the side of your throat. He kissed your skin, making you let out another moan for him when his touch got harsher against your breasts.
“Since that night,” he said low, against your skin.
You knew exactly which night he spoke of. Because it had started for you then too. The night the pair of you sat and talked about your pasts for an hour or more. The night you’d learned who he was and chose to adore him anyway. You’d just been clueless, then, to his returned affections.
“Me too,” you breathed.
And when Arthur went completely still, his gaze returned to yours, you moved. Proved it.
You undid his gun belt, tugging him toward you in the process. He caught himself against the tree, his two strong arms boxing you in on either side. Your gaze flicked upward, and he never took his eyes off yours, a hunger in his expression that made your arousal ramp up a notch. Especially when he kept looking at you as you let his gun belt fall. Unbuttoned his pants. His jaw clenched when you pushed his undergarments out of the way. And when you finally laid eyes on that proud length of his, hard and leaking with the beginning of his arousal, you couldn’t resist reaching for him.
You took Arthur’s cock in your hand for the first time and ran it gently down, all the way into the coarse hair that gathered near the base of it. He grunted.
“You’re beautiful too, Arthur.”
He let out a strained laugh, a smile on his face. “Your turn to cut the shit.”
“I mean it,” you said, running your hand up his length, slowly back down. “I want you. And not just for your kindness. Your humor. Your goodness. Your strength.”
He hung onto your every word, his expression going slack from the pleasure running through him. You gave him a hard stroke as you said, “I want your body. I want your cock.”
He groaned, his eyes squeezing shut, his head falling forward from your touch. “You have me, darlin’.”
Those words…you never thought you’d hear them. But there they were, and here he was, and you could hardly contain your eagerness for what came next.
“Then take me,” you said on an exhale. And he obeyed.
Arthur stood tall and melded his mouth with yours, kissing you hard, backing you against the tree. He took your hand away and guided it over his shoulder, doing the same with your other arm until they were both wrapped around his neck. His hands ran down and found your backside, lifting you upward with a strength that you envied. But when your legs wrapped around his waist and he held you fully supported against him, all thought ceased.
His cock nudged against your entrance. “I’ve waited too damn long for this,” he gritted out. Then he pushed in, inch after inch filling you. Your hatted head fell back at the feeling of him. He stretched you, his length hard and thick. You moaned when he bottomed out for the first time, fitted inside of you perfectly. He stopped there, and you watched him open mouthed and panting, watching how his eyebrows drew together at the immense feeling. “Perfect,” he grumbled. Then he kissed you and moved.
Arthur started slow, a churning motion that you couldn’t believe a man could sustain considering he held you up with his own strength alone. But when his breathing grew heavier against your mouth, he backed you into the tree. The bark bit into your back with a scrape of pain, but you didn’t dare stop him.
In fact, you broke the kiss and let your head fall against the tree, knocking his hat at an upward angle. He kept on, his hips meeting yours harder and harder with every thrust.
“Arthur,” you moaned, your grip on his back tightening. Everything in you was tightening.
He grunted in response, pushing you harder against the tree. His hand came up and found your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers. You sucked in a long breath and held it, close. You were so incredibly close, and it had only been a minute, if that. But that’s exactly what you expected getting to have him like this, his cock pumping so deep inside of you, his hand like magic on your body. Any other man, and you would be nowhere near release. But this was Arthur. You’d wanted him so badly. And now he started panting with you, and both of you had pleasure within reach. So you sought it out.
“I’m- I’m close,” you whined. You studied the way he’d squeezed his eyes shut tight, fighting against his own release. “You gonna find your pleasure with me? Let go when I do?”
“Sooner’n that, if you don’t stop,” he groaned. Proving it, his head fell against your shoulder, like he couldn’t take all the pleasure. Despite this, he still moved, his hips jerking upward and losing control.
You started to flutter around him, the beginnings of your orgasm roaring to life. “Arthur…”
Pleasure coursed through you, making your mouth fall open wide. You came down hard, gripping his cock inside of you, letting out feminine whimpers of pleasure. Absolute ecstasy.
Arthur groaned and stuttered his pace a heartbeat before he pulled out of you. He spilled against your stomach with your name on his lips, holding you fast against him. You both stayed just like that, pleasure running through your blood so thick you couldn’t move a muscle.
After a beat, Arthur lifted his head from your shoulder, meeting your eye with a sheepish grin. “It’s uh…been a minute since I…”
Realization hit you before he could finish the sentence—that he was embarrassed he hadn’t lasted long. “Me too,” you assured him with a smile. “It was perfect.”
He kissed you then. His mouth worked against yours like he was desperate for it.
The only thing that broke the two of you apart was exhaustion. You both came up for air, and Arthur carefully let you unfold your legs from around him and set you back down on the ground. His eyes wouldn’t leave yours then, like he couldn’t resist looking at you.
You blushed under his gaze. “You like me wearing your hat or something?”
He smirked. “Looks good on you. I like that hat rule.”
You smiled wide, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Never figured for hat rules and drinking games ending up being what got us together.”
“Woulda happened anyway, with or without the hat,” he said low, coming in for another kiss. This one was slow but sweet.
“You think so?”
“I know so.” He shook his head and snickered, looking back toward the camp. “Those nosy bastards wouldn’t have let us alone until it did.”
You laughed with him and pulled him in again, soaring with the happiness you felt, with the whiskey in your blood, with the man in your arms.
Rope Work (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)
Summary: You and Arthur practice roping and knot tying to pass the time. The lesson turns heated when the rope finds new targets.
Author’s Notes: Arthur is very sure of himself in this one, and I won’t apologize for it 🤷🏼♀️ Also he is somewhere between high and low honor here, so I didn’t tag it.
Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, smut, bondage, oral sex, rough sex, semi-public sex
AO3 Link
~
Rope Work
Word count: 2886
“Goddammit,” you spat, the rope falling flat again.
“Keep tryin’,” Arthur urged. But when you turned to look at him in exasperation, he sported a grin.
“Don’t you give me that look.”
“What look?” The grin grew.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” you groaned, turning back to reel in the rope.
You’d been at this for thirty minutes. Thirty useless minutes as far as you were concerned, because your talent at this was far from improving. And your anger was building, and Arthur’s amused little comments were not helping.
“Show me again, since you’re such a goddamn expert on the matter,” you said, holding the now-gathered rope out to Arthur.
He took it from you without a word, and oh, how you could have smacked him over that smug look on his face.
Arthur stepped toward the tree with the strange, gnarled knot that stuck out and upward—the same feature that had made you stop to practice your nonexistent roping skills in the first place. That, and the heat. It was unbearably humid out in these swamps. But at least this old, knobby cypress tree gave the two of you an excuse to dick around for an hour or so and think about anything other than the stifling air.
“You gotta release it when the momentum’s going toward the tree,” Arthur said, beginning to swing the rope over his head. “You’re lettin’ it die.”
“Am not. Mine had plenty of momentum.”
“It had a little. But not enough,” he said, flicking his wrist and letting the rope fly. That damn loop landed right around the knot on the tree. Arthur pulled taught, the rope closing tight. He looked back at you with a smirk. “That plus the rope being too flat when you let go ain’t giving it enough clearance.” Without even looking, he flicked the rope upward, and the whole loop came off the tree, fell on the ground, and proceeded to be gathered up by the outlaw’s hands like some sort of obedient pet.
You sneered at the effortless talent. He was good at goddamn everything.
“Well, I give up. This is more work than fun, anyway,” you said, putting your hands on your hips and turning away.
He chuckled. “Alright, smart ass. You’re the one who asked for my help in the first place.”
“I am not a-” You rounded on him. And the look of him made your anger burn hotter. Because he had the gathered rope, both hands on his gun belt, and a smile that took your breath. He was so damn attractive like that, all hot and sweaty and sure of himself. And it only made you madder, because the dolt knew the effect he had on you.
The longer you stayed silent, the bigger he smiled. Then, “What’s the matter? Somethin’ distracting you?”
“You know damn well what’s distracting me,” you grumbled, eyes raking over his body.
He chuckled again. “How ‘bout you cool off then, and we go find somewhere more private?”
“How ‘bout you stop telling me what to do, and I have you right here?”
Arthur’s gaze went hard. You knew that look. He was a practical man, but his arousal tended to throw that right out the window.
The two of you were far enough from the river that you weren’t out in the open. The nearby path, though, was a different story. The tree you’d practiced roping on was right by the road, hence why you’d spotted it. It wasn’t the most well-traveled path, but that didn’t mean someone couldn’t come through and catch you in the act. For some reason, that thought enlivened you, and a plan started to form.
You stepped toward Arthur. “Hand it here.”
He hesitated a moment, just watching you. Then he handed the rope over, staying quiet. You loved the hold you had over him. He was usually mister know-it-all, always having some loud-mouthed comeback, always having to have the upper hand. But not when it came to you.
You stepped in close and took his hands, pushing them around his back as you looped your arms around him, pressing your body against his in the process. All while looking up at him with a grin.
“What you schemin’?” he said, his low voice making you want him even more.
“Seeing as you’re an outlaw, you probably don’t care to be tied up, do you?” you teased, stepping around him to his broad back, keeping his hands clasped behind him.
“Not usually.”
You started binding his hands together with the rope. “But?”
“But I’m curious,” he said, letting you do as you pleased with him. “Your knot tying as poor as your roping?”
“Shut the hell up,” you said on a smile. As it stood, you didn’t need a knot for this part. You’d slipped the loop of the rope around his wrists and pulled tight. “And follow me, smart ass.”
His resulting low laugh made heavy need build right between your legs. You tugged on the free end of the rope, pulling Arthur along with you.
You rounded the nearest big tree so that the two of you were somewhat out of sight, putting a hand to Arthur’s chest and pushing him back against it. He looked down at you, smug. You’d wipe that look off his face yet.
“Stay,” you ordered. The edge of his mouth kicked up in response.
Rounding the tree with rope in hand, you went around twice, slow, so that Arthur could watch your plan unfold. Each time you wrapped it around his abdomen, his hungry eyes tracked you. He didn’t give a damn about being tied up, it seemed, so long as he got what he wanted out of it.
After tying an albeit shitty knot around the back of the tree, you circled again and came around to face your outlaw. “You look good like this,” you teased.
“Uh huh. And you’re gonna look good on your knees for me.”
You scoffed. “Don’t be so pleased with yourself. You and I both know you’ll be begging me before long.”
He didn’t have a response to that, swallowed by his need as he was.
You flashed Arthur a grin and approached him, kneeling down. You slowly, teasingly undid his gun belt. Then his pants. Then his undergarments. And when you pulled him out and started to stroke him, he was already rock hard.
You met his eyes. “You gonna be good for me? Stay quiet when I have your cock in my mouth?”
He let out a deep breath, his gaze already going hazy at your easy strokes. “Mm. May have to let the whole swamp hear.”
“We’re right by the path,” you reminded him. “I suggest you stay quiet lest someone gets the bright idea to come over and watch me do this to you.”
That made Arthur lean his head back and shut his eyes. Sure enough, you knew you’d wipe away that smug look he always seemed to sport.
You went down fully onto your knees and took him into your mouth. Just the tip, feeling your tongue along his head. A soft grunt left him.
He was big, so you slid your hand down him all the way until you met his body, then torturously back up. You stroked him slow and tight, working your mouth onto him an inch at a time. He let out a long breath, already loving this. And you were proud to have that effect on him. Proud to make him yours each and every time you did this.
You worked your tongue along the underside of his cock, taking him in and out of your mouth with the same rhythm as your hand. When you finally took him as deep as you could, he hit the back of your throat with inches still to spare, like always. You reveled in this, in your big, strong outlaw and his big, strong cock. You wanted to tell him so, make him go cross-eyed with pleasure, but your mouth was preoccupied. So you moved instead.
Two things happened at once. First and most noticeably, Arthur groaned so deep that it rumbled through his chest—a sound so masculine you knew you were soaked now if you hadn’t been already. Second, the rope around him made a sound. It tightened and struggled against its hold on him. Surely that stupid knot would hold, no matter how flimsy.
You started a slow pace, hollowing your cheeks, using your hand on him, doing everything you could to ramp up the pressure. You wanted that begging you were talking about, and it took being patient with him to get him there. So you took your time, enjoying this yourself.
He eventually started to buck his hips forward, so you started doing that twisting motion he loved. You took him as deep as you could without gagging on him. He was pushing back as much as the groaning ropes would allow, but with his hands tied behind his back, he couldn’t hold your head against him like he normally did. You could tell it was killing him not to, but there were other things you could do to bring him the same enjoyment. So you moved both hands to his hips and held him back against the tree, taking him as deep as possible.
“Christ, darlin’, that’s good,” he said. All needy.
You beamed with pride, holding back a smile as you worked his cock. You took him deeper and deeper until you gagged, immediately going back for more. He was groaning and straining against you, the ropes around him doing the same, that begging you were hoping for seconds away.
When you kept one hand on his hip and used the other to fondle his balls, he sucked in a sharp breath. You felt his body shift as he went rigid, then to your shock, something fell against the top of your head. You stopped your progress and looked up, confused, only to see that he was pulling the rope off with newly freed hands. He gave you a pleasure-choked grin as he said, “Seems I need to teach you how to tie a proper knot too.” Then he grabbed you and forced you around quicker than you could stop him, backing you into the tree. He left your hands free but trapped your arms under the rope nonetheless as he wrapped it tight around the trunk, not even needing to walk around it with how long his arms were.
You were beyond aroused by this turn of events and couldn’t seem to keep your eyes from drifting lower, admiring his straining cock and how slick he was from your mouth. He noticed your gaze and chuckled. “What was it you said? That I’d be the one begging?”
“Mhm,” you said on a nod, still not taking your eyes off his cock as you bit your lower lip in anticipation.
He got close to tie the rope off and spoke low, right in your ear. “Nah, I think you know that ain’t true.” Your arousal tightened even more.
After a beat, he backed away just enough to admire his work. That stupid smugness was back. Then he closed the gap between you and started loosening your skirt, his eyes on yours. “Gonna keep that pretty mouth shut when I’m inside you?”
Christ, could this man do things to you. You nodded. “I can be good when you have something I want.”
“What is it you want from me, darlin’?” He gathered your skirt and chemise up, exposing your skin to the balmy air. That suffocating heat was torture on your senses.
“You know what I want, Arthur.”
“Wanna hear you say it,” he taunted, finally moving your undergarments out of the way. He exposed your pussy in the process, immediately running his fingers through your slickness.
You let out a low noise. “I want your cock.”
Arthur smirked, taking the slickness gathered on his fingers and running it up and down his length, beginning to stroke himself.
He propped his other hand against the tree above you, leaning in so close you were forehead to hat brim. “How bad?”
Your eyes flicked down to watch how good he stroked himself. “Bad.”
He snickered. “Told you.”
“What?” you asked, wholly distracted by his touch as he pressed up against you, trapping you against the tree. He guided his cock to your entrance, not pushing inside.
“Told you you’d be beggin’ me.”
You met his eye at those words. And he was already looking at you, grinning, knowing he had you cornered. Because you’d say pretty much anything to the man to get him to push inside you.
“You ain’t heard begging yet,” you said, your breathing uneven.
“Then beg.”
Your pussy clenched around nothing at his demand. His sure, handsome stare and his cock held against you—it took the fight right out of you.
“Fuck me.”
“No please?”
Such a damn tease. “Please. Now, before I lose my goddamn mind.”
“You want it?”
“I want it so bad, Arthur, just—”
He thrust into you hard, splitting you wide as you sucked in a strained breath.
Christ alive, his cock was huge. You always forgot just how huge. And as your eyes rolled back in your head and he started a greedy, deep pace, you knew he would make you see stars.
When he grunted and sped up sooner than usual, you moaned for him, watching him drive deeper. Harder. “Yes, just like that,” you urged through your panting.
He looked up and met your eye. Your pussy clamped down on his cock at his forwardness, and he felt it.
“That’s it, girl.” The second those blue eyes showed his smugness again, you knew you were a goner. Because that confidence of his made you find your pleasure every time.
You panted and met his hips at every thrust and strained against the rope, but he pumped into you harder and harder, forcing you flat against the tree. You started to lose it, started to come undone.
And just when you reached the desperation to beg again, just when you uttered the words, “Please, Arthur. Please make me—” you were interrupted by his calloused hand coming down over your mouth.
The move was so attractive you moaned right into his hand. But you understood why he’d done it when you heard hoofbeats behind you. Someone was on the path.
Arthur spoke low. “Stay quiet.” He pumped in and out still, slow and deep, not letting whoever passed by stop him. That little decision drove you mad. You let out a whine. He met your eye. “You like that?” He thrust in deeper, harder, the smirk back on his face. “My girl like me fuckin’ her good for everyone to see?”
You whimpered this time, your pussy fluttering around him. “Yeah she does. Want me to call him over? Let him watch when you find your pleasure around my cock?”
That did it. You shut your eyes tight and moaned loudly into his hand, your orgasm coming on so quick you weren’t prepared for it.
Pleasure wracked your body, making you tense up against the rope so hard that you clung to Arthur with the only thing connecting the two of you—your cunt, his cock. And he knew it. He let go of your mouth, took your hips, and thrust in hard.
You choked down your cry of pleasure, trying your best to be quiet. But it was useless with your orgasm burning through you, with him buried so goddamn deep, with the way he pounded in harder and harder and harder. You moaned long and loud.
Arthur’s pace stuttered at the noise. You wanted him to find his own release. You wanted his spend. You wanted to feel his huge, rigid cock inside of you forever.
When you finally started to come down, you used all your will to form words, demanding. “Come, Arthur.”
He grunted. You felt him pull out, and not even a second later, he spilled all over your legs, his spend running down the inside of your thighs. He panted heavily, still pinning you against the tree as he kept on and on, his cock throbbing between your legs.
“That’s it,” you whispered, your head falling back against the tree. “That’s it, Arthur.”
His heavy breathing wouldn’t slow. And even when his pleasure was over, he wouldn’t move an inch.
Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a horse and rider walking away, completely oblivious to the two of you. Oblivious to the spend on your legs, to Arthur’s cock still rock hard against you, to the two of you pressed against the tree, desperate for each other’s touch.
After of few moments of mingled breath and the last traces of pleasure, Arthur met your eye.
“That’s how you tie a knot, by the way.”
You laughed. Sure, the ropes hadn’t budged, and that annoyed you to no end. But you had to admit, there were perks to him being good at everything.
“Is it now?” you taunted. “You’ll have to run that technique by me again.”
He smiled, a flash of teeth and a light in his eyes.
I cannot BELIEVE I’ve been writing for you for three years now. That went by in a flash (likely due to the 19374 business days it took to write Of Love and Loss 🥴).
I wanted to say thank you for all the love and support, every like and comment, every reblog and shoutout. My confidence in my writing has shot through the roof these past few years, and it’s all because you not only take the time to read what I write but also give me feedback and shower my works in adoration. That is beyond what I ever imagined. I will always be happy with my writing simply because one person took a chance on my stories, then another, then another. I am as satisfied as a person can be, and I owe that to every one of you. So thank you again, I’m sending all my love, and I will be posting another fic just after Christmas as my way of saying thanks (endlessly). You’re who I do this for and the reason it stays exciting!
The Fire Within Us (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)
Summary: Arthur finds an intruder in your house, and his restraint snaps.
Author’s Notes: While I work on another fic that doesn’t want to be written, enjoy this little snippet of angry, possessive Arthur :)
Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, smut, low honor Arthur Morgan, gun violence, graphic depictions of violence
AO3 Link
~
The Fire Within Us
Word count: 1817
Something was wrong.
Arthur knew the second he pulled his horse to a halt beside the house. He threw his leg over her neck in his haste to find the source of his unease.
It started with the quiet—your place was never quiet. Between the nearby sounds of nature and your off-key outbursts of song, the place didn’t know silence. But the eeriness continued when you didn’t come out to greet him, when the house was dim, when his mind turned to his past.
This had happened once before. Arthur tried not to let his thoughts wander to two crosses outside a little homestead, to his absence and the silence of death. But the memory touched him now—made his heart race—as he made for the door slowly and silently.
Arthur drew his gun and cocked the hammer when he eased the door open. The hinges didn’t make a sound, but a clang from farther inside made him sure of his cautiousness—the sound of pilfering hands. He knew that sound well. The rushing clumsiness, the unfamiliarity of new objects shoved aside.
Sure enough, when Arthur could see far enough into the room, a kneeling figure came into view by the cabinetry. An unfamiliar one. A man with his back turned that immediately made Arthur see red, enough for him to debate killing, butchering, before he remembered you. Where were you?
He scanned the room, noting your closed bedroom door. He had to know. He had to see you still breathing before he killed the man. And no doubt, he would kill him. He would do it with his bare hands depending on the state of you.
Arthur silently slipped out and rounded the house, making for your bedroom window. He peeked in and saw you knelt in the corner, crying, attempting to stifle your sobs with your hand. He was filled with so much relief it nearly took him out at the knees. But your obvious panic made the anger come back, sharp and boiling hot.
Arthur made sure your room was empty of any other intruders then whipped around. He didn’t bother being quiet this time. He barged in and made the intruder face him like a man as Arthur raised his gun and fired.
There was a shout of pain, a collapse of limbs, but Arthur was sure of his aim—the shot wouldn’t kill the man. Instead, he wallowed around while Arthur crossed the space in two strides, grabbing him by the hair.
He yanked his face upward so the bastard would look him in the eye. “Did you hurt her?”
“Who the hell are you?” the man spat back, his voice hoarse with pain.
“Answer me!” Arthur roared, yanking his hair so hard some came off in his hand and a scream rent the air.
“I don’t- know what you’re talkin’ about-”
“Like hell you don’t,” Arthur growled, but he was done with this. The man would die whether he was truthful or not.
Arthur began dragging him out of the house by his hair with a strength fueled by the hurt of his past, the fragile beauty of his present. No one got to you. No one.
The man cried and carried on, but Arthur had him outside in the grass in seconds. He leveled his gun at the bastard’s head.
“You best tell the truth, or I’m sending you straight to hell. Did you hurt her?”
The man cowered with his hands held in front of his face, but he spoke. “Who? No! I didn’t hurt anyone, I was just-”
“I know damn well what you was doing. And if I find out you so much as touched a hair on her head, I’ll butcher you.”
“Please,” the man cried before wheezing with pain. “Leave me be. I didn’t hurt anyone. I’ll leave right now and never come back-”
“Bullshit,” Arthur seethed through clenched teeth. The fact was, this fool knew where you lived, and whether he’d hurt you or not, Arthur wasn’t taking any chances when it came to you.
Something evil ran through Arthur’s blood, and he caved to it. The man let out a sharp, “No!” before Arthur fired off a quick succession of three shots—two to the man’s kneecaps, one to his manhood. If the bastard had been in pain before, he was positively screaming now. There was no one out here to scream to, no one to come to rescue him from the fate he had wrought.
Arthur let seconds pass, let the man feel all that pain, then stepped closer.
“Did you touch her?” The words were laced with threat—all that anger coursing through Arthur poised to strike.
The man was still screaming, writhing, but shouted through it all, “Go to hell!”
Arthur’s restraint snapped. He leveled his gun and sent a bullet straight through the man’s skull. Then did it again, just because he had one bullet left. The ringing of the shots in the open night were almost as satisfying as the man’s permanent silence.
Arthur stepped back and spat at the corpse. “I see you in hell, I’ll kill you again, you piece of shit.”
Without another thought for the idiot who’d picked the wrong goddamn house to rob, Arthur turned on his boot heel and made for you.
He looked up to find you standing in the doorway, watching him. And aside from the tear streaks down your face, you were whole. You were alive. And that sentiment made the anger that still coursed through him turn possessive.
He was on you in seconds, pushing you back into the house as his mouth melded with yours. He kissed you harshly and pushed you into the bedroom, not wanting to think about the blood that now stained your floor behind him. No, he wanted you, needed you, and now before all this anger overcame him.
Arthur shoved you down on the bed and broke away just long enough to growl, “Did he hurt you?”
You shook your head. “I hid,” you said with pupils blown wide, already reaching for his pants buttons. He weren’t having that shit. He batted your hand away and ripped your skirt up, your chemise along with it. He knelt down and drove you up the bed, burying his face between your legs.
Arthur took no time to work you up. There wasn’t a gentle bone in his body as his tongue dipped inside of you. You were his. This perfect taste, the perfect moan, the way he knew your head had fallen back to the bed—it was all his. No one else’s. So he worked your pussy hard with his tongue, forcing your pleasure out of you.
When you were close, Arthur moved upward and sucked hard against your clit, making your hips buck upward beneath him. He held you down and made you take it, made you sure of who brought you all this pleasure. He nipped and sucked and circled his tongue until your release hit you like a train, making you suck in a big breath and hold it as all that pleasure came down on you.
Arthur’s patience was nowhere to be found, and he propped himself up and unbuttoned his pants, pressing his thumb down against your clit with his free hand.
“Arthur,” you moaned. Just like he liked it. He wouldn’t let you come down off that high, not before he got to be inside of you.
In seconds, Arthur had himself in hand, lining up with you. You were still straining beneath him, and he finally took his hand away only to wrench your hips toward him and sink into you.
You cried out and he cursed. You were so goddamn tight like this, the last of your orgasm making you clamp down on his cock. He didn’t move for a moment in fear of ending this too soon. But when all the pressure passed, his anger finally subsided fully in lieu of need, and Arthur snapped his hips. Burying himself deep.
He did it again, and again, the rhythm causing a single word to break through the haze of his pleasure-choked state: mine. You were crying out in pleasure, like you enjoyed this side of him he rarely showed. And he was groaning at how badly he needed this—to feel you with him, alive, whole.
You wrapped your legs around his back and locked your ankles like you could read his goddamn mind, and Arthur nearly choked with pleasure.
“Easy, girl. I won’t last.”
He spoke the words, but his head was still playing that word on repeat at every slam of his hips. Mine, mine, mine.
“I want it,” you breathed. “Take me.”
Arthur’s brain short-circuited. Your heels dug into his lower back, and he drove you into the bed with how hard he moved. He wanted to say something, to ask some sort of permission, but words wouldn’t come to him.
Then you spoke on a heady exhale. “Fill me, Arthur.”
Christ alive. There wasn’t a shred of doubt left in him. You were his, and nobody would take that from him. Ever.
Arthur’s own orgasm came rushing to the surface fast, but not before he lowered his head to yours and gritted out, “Mine.” The word made everything else dissipate. All the anger and regret, all the hurt. Everything went away, and it was only him slamming into you over and over and over again.
Arthur’s lips met yours, and he came hard, spilling deep inside of you for the first time. It was blindingly good, but he swore he could have cried at how right it felt. He had needed this a long time—someone to love him, anger and all. Someone to protect. Someone all his own.
The two of you broke the kiss to allow yourselves air, both panting at how good this togetherness felt.
“I love you.”
You saying those words…he would never quite feel deserving. But when he looked down at your honest eyes gazing back up at him, he believed them.
He went down onto an elbow, his body finally giving out as the adrenaline left him. “I love you too, darlin’.” Then, after a beat, “I’m sorry you had to see that, out there.” He hadn’t wanted you to watch him kill a man, ever.
But, like always, you pleasantly surprised him. “I have never felt more loved, more desired, in all my life.” You reached up and cradled his face in your hands. “No matter how far you go to protect me. I’m yours.”
Arthur felt a swell of emotion unlike any other rise up within him. He gave you a long, tender kiss, his body and his thoughts finally calming from the threat the world posed to you.
He would be here to shield you from it all. Always.
Hello everyone and sorry for dropping off the face of the earth 🙃🫶🏼
I am still writing, but I have been stuck on one fic for WEEKS now. Every time I work on it, it somehow gets worse?? Anyway. I will post it eventually and work on some other things in the meantime so that I’m actually posting something for y’all. I have tonss of juicy ideas. Let’s just hope they reveal themselves easier than this other one 😅
A Standing Offer Pt. 3 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)
Summary: The next time you see Arthur, neither of you can resist your desire any longer.
Author’s Notes: Sorry this one is so long buttt I think you’ll appreciate why 😉 Part three of this one.
Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, smut, high honor Arthur Morgan, modern Arthur Morgan, lap dance, oral sex, rough sex
AO3 Link
~
A Standing Offer
Word count: 8132
Part Three
The past few days had been a blur. All deep red lights, the fluidity of dancing, a haze of polite conversation. But your mind was entirely elsewhere.
Every waking moment, you thought of what Arthur had told you at his shop. How he wanted you. Just what, exactly, he would get from you. Your mind had roved over the countless possibilities for hours on end. And yet, you hadn’t seen the man since. You were starting to think he wouldn’t come back to the club and that his confession had been only that. A throwing of a bone. Maybe it was your turn to return it.
When even Madison, who didn’t know you as well as some of the other girls, commented on your spacey behavior, you knew it was time to do something. You couldn’t have this motherfucker affecting your work.
When you got home from the club in the early morning hours, you opened your recent call list on your phone and looked to the number you knew Arthur had called from. You typed the number into google, hoping it was his personal one. But on an angry groan, you read the number under Van der Linde Auto Shop and realized he had called off of an office phone. And that left you with only one option—you had to go see him in person in order to ever speak with him again. Fantastic.
Since it was early Saturday morning and the shop would be closed for the weekend, you slumped on your bed and let out a long breath. This felt too much like having feelings for your liking. But you played it off—the butterflies in your stomach were just a result of wanting someone who you knew wanted you back. Cat and mouse. Anticipation. You just hoped Arthur was feeling the same thing, or else you risked making a complete fool of yourself. But you quickly pushed that thought away by imagining Arthur’s heavy gaze on you that night outside the shop. How deliberately he had spoken every word. As it stood, you had an entire weekend to do nothing but think of that. So you threw off your clothes and burrowed down in your bed, letting that heavy blue gaze train on you until sleep took you under.
Saturday passed quickly, and it was soon time to head back to the Rouge. So soon, in fact, that you were afraid you would be late for the first time. You rushed out of the door and down to your car, making sure you had all your stuff with you. You were determined never to forget your purse again after what happened last time.
Flying down the highway, doing your usual cursing and flipping off of your fellow motorists, you watched the Rouge come into view just in time. You were sure Ally would already be on stage and that you’d have to do your own makeup and hair tonight. So be it. After years of doing the very thing, you knew how to make yourself look good.
You rushed past Harry and inside, shooting Ally an apologetic look across the room. She was indeed on stage but had two men stage-side standing mere feet from her, watching her every move. So as not to lose them, she just flashed you a smirk and continued on with her work.
You ducked into the dressing rooms and immediately sat, starting with your makeup. Madison sat nearby and let out a laugh that was so sensual it was no wonder she was the club favorite.
“What’s the rush, doll?”
“I’m late,” you said without looking at her, already at work on your eyes. “Don’t want to miss my cue.”
She let out that laugh again and waltzed over, setting her hands on your shoulders. “Lucky for you, that face of yours doesn’t need much help.”
You smiled at her but kept on, determined to be on time. She left you sitting there but soon came back with an outfit of yours in her hands.
“Wear this one,” she said, hooking it over the back of your chair.
You turned, expecting the Ruby Red outfit, but it wasn’t. It was the one you had worn on your first night here—your favorite one. It was just the right shade of red and cut in all the perfect places for your body shape.
“You like this one?” you asked her.
She smirked like a cat. “You like this one. And I think your performance will be all the better for it.”
You smiled weakly, hoping she wasn’t calling you out again for being so off the past few days. But even if she was, she would be right about the outfit—it reminded you of why you did this. To be able to do what you loved and look good doing it.
“Thanks,” you told her, turning back around to face the mirror. You caught her eye and returned her smirk. “I have a feeling the patrons are going to thank you too.”
“There’s my girl,” she said before winking and walking away. You were left feeling a deep appreciation over these girls and how they had your back.
You finished your look in record timing and worked your way into the tiny outfit just in time for your introductory music to start playing. And just like that, everything fell away. There was no more thought of Arthur, no more thought of your desire or your anger or anything else. You made your way to the stage and thought of dancing—your one and only love. And within seconds, you were swept away by it.
The night had an edge to it when you finally stepped off stage and into the crowd. For one thing, you’d drawn so much attention that you had men vying for you. Three separate booths called you over at once. You just smiled and flirted, falling into the familiar routine. And when you believed you’d fully satisfied each booth and could continue your rounds, more called out to you. It was flattering if not fully distracting. But you realized why the night was so different when your gaze happened to flick to the corner of the room. When you saw who was sitting there.
Your eyes caught and held on Arthur, raking over every inch of him. And immediately, the ruse you’d spun for the men you currently entertained fell flat. You felt a genuine flutter of arousal shoot through you when that piercing gaze refused to break from yours. So you gave up pretending for the others and excused yourself. Followed that arousal right to its source.
You approached the corner booth with determined steps, each one a steady reminder of what Arthur had said the last time you’d seen him. Of what you wanted to give him right fucking now.
You stopped just shy of the booth. “You’re back.”
Arthur was leaned back, an arm slung across the booth’s back and a beer in hand. He wore a dark brown shirt this time that was somehow even better-looking on him than the black, especially in the low red light.
“I am.”
His simple response was a taunting of sorts—means for you to have to work for his affections.
“What brings you back?” you asked, tilting your head just so.
He nodded toward the bar, and you turned to find Javier and John standing there, both waving and grinning wide when they saw you looking.
You knew Arthur had only come because they had—he wouldn’t have come alone. So you silently thanked them for knowing exactly what the fuck they were doing and turned back to the man you couldn’t keep from ogling. “Babysitting again?”
“Always,” he said, his eyes raking over you this time.
Goddamn him for that greedy look and for making you say your next words. “How about a break then?”
He really stared you down then. Not caught off guard, because he was never that, but challenging in a way that reminded you of how capable he was.
“What kind of break?” he said so lowly that even his voice turned you on.
You tilted your head back to the private rooms, your heart pounding. “A dance. Offer still stands.”
He finally broke your gaze and chuckled, shaking his head. “I told you, I-”
“I know what you said. But this one’s on the house,” you interrupted, sidling closer to him and leaning a hand on the table. You didn’t touch him and wouldn’t, not until he said yes. Because you didn’t think you could keep your hands off of him once you touched him.
He took a sip of his beer and considered you, still leaned back in that ungodly attractive way. “On the house, huh?”
“Yes. Consider it a…preview.”
That got him. Just as his words had gotten you the last time, he was dead silent now, just watching you. Likely imagining exactly what you were suggesting.
“What do you say?” You stood straight and tilted your head again, each movement a reminder of what he could have all to himself.
That final push must have made up his mind because without speaking a word, he moved. He got to his feet and towered over you, too close for you to resist. Not to mention he smelled good, not like the overdone cologne that most men wore but something more subtle and masculine.
He stepped in even closer, his voice shooting low. “Show me.”
You took his hand.
You could hear the faint whoops and whistles of Javier and John but didn’t pay them any mind, and neither did Arthur as you turned back to look at him. Your smile was genuine as you felt his calloused hand in yours for the first time.
Upon choosing the room, you let Arthur settle into the cushioned chair. He watched your every move as you sauntered over to dim the lights a little more. That attention of his was better than gold, making your confidence over what you were about to do run deep.
For once, you didn’t feel the need for any talk as you approached him. Normally, so as not to make the moment awkward, you filled the space with conversation. But this wasn’t just any man before you. No, this one knew you, and well enough that the expectations between you didn’t have to be spoken. So you didn’t speak as you approached his left side, touching him how you wanted to for the first time with gentle fingers on his knee, running up the length of his thigh. You dragged that touch along his muscled forearm, going all the way up to his shoulder and relishing in his broad frame. His head turned with you as you stepped aside and behind him, reaching for his hair. You ran your fingers through the strands and gently tugged sideways, giving you access to the opposite side of his neck.
You brought your lips down just shy of his ear and said, “I can’t stop thinking about what you told me the other night.” Then you finally pressed your mouth to the sensitive skin of his neck, kissing him there slow and warm.
He let out a satisfied breath before answering. “Then you should know it’s taking a lot for me to let you do this.”
That surprised you, but not enough for you to stop your work. Instead, you broke away from his neck and slowly tilted his head back up. “Why so?”
You stepped around his right side this time, tracing your hand down his arm, down his leg, all the way to his knee. Even his goddamn thighs were muscle-bound.
“Because it’s too much like work for you. I wanted this to happen in private. Where I can have my way with you.”
Your breath caught in your chest, but all you did was smile for him as you looked to his heavy gaze. “You can have your way with me whenever you want,” you said truthfully, placing your foot between his legs on the seat of the chair. You ran your hand up the inside of your leg, letting him watch every inch of movement. “Like I said,” you teased, running your hand all the way up the middle of your chest. “Just a preview.”
His eyes lingered on your body even after your hand left it. And satisfaction burned through you over having his attention in full.
What you’d done was nothing compared to what came next though, and you weren’t sure you could be as professional as you usually were when you took your leg away and slowly lowered down onto your knees before him. Especially not when you saw that he was already growing hard. The urge to feel him like that beneath you was so sudden that you pushed his legs together without much warning. He didn’t mind though, just letting out a low, audible breath when you stood again and lowered yourself over his lap, facing him.
Normally, this was the boundary you didn’t cross. You would dance over a man all day no matter who it was, but you always held yourself high enough that you didn’t quite feel their lap against you. But now, you indulged yourself. You sat fully against Arthur, feeling how hard he already was against your ass. You held eye contact with him, noting their blueish-green color this close. You could have leaned forward an inch and kissed him, but you didn’t, wanting this to work him up to the perfect idea of what may happen—of what would definitely happen later. So you sat up straight and began to move.
Arthur immediately let out a low groan, his eyes fluttering shut. You just held onto the chair, going slow, savoring every second. His cock felt sinfully good below you, and you didn’t give a shit about the fact that you were growing wetter by the minute. That was inevitable. What you didn’t expect, though, were his hands.
Arthur reached around you and placed his hands low on your back. Not enough to control your rhythm, which was part of the reason you didn’t let men touch you in here, but just as a gentle pressure that gave away his arousal. Not controlling, not greedy, just wanting. So you let him be.
You ground down on him slow and deliberate, alternating pressure between one side and the other. Arthur’s eyes had opened again and he was looking down, not able to see much from how close you were other than your cleavage.
Vain as you were, you spoke. “What are you thinking about?”
You expected some quip about how you looked, about what would happen between you later, anything other than what he said instead. “About how goddamn jealous it makes me that other men get to touch you like this.”
There they were, those damning feelings of yours. You pushed them down and let out a low laugh, taking his hands from behind you on a whim and placing them over your clothed breasts. “Arthur, no one gets to touch me like this. No one gets to touch me at all.”
His eyes tore from where you’d placed his hands and met yours in surprise.
“Just you,” you said, moving his hands under yours as you continued to grind down on him.
“You ain’t serious,” he replied.
“I am serious. I may touch other people, but they don’t touch me. That’s my line, and I don’t cross it.” But you are, you thought. You gladly would for him.
He stared you down then. Not stating the obvious. You didn’t either, for fear it would reveal too much about what you felt for him. Instead you changed positions, slowly running his hands down your body and standing, pushing your chest out toward him as you rose. Then you backed off of him and asked carefully, “Do you want me to stop?”
He still stared, a little stunned. Then his eyes glanced down your body and back up, and his jaw set.
“Hell no.”
You smiled and turned.
This time, your heart raced when you backed into him and sat on his lap again, facing outward. You brought a hand up around the back of his neck and ground down on him hard, turning your face back to him, watching as his eyes found your mouth. His head tilted downward just so, hardly an inch away as you moved on him.
“I’m guessing you got rules about kissing men that come in here too,” he said so lowly you barely heard him over the music. But at the mention of a kiss, those butterflies in your gut fluttered.
“Usually,” you said, so close to him and pulling him closer still.
“Forgive me then.” His hand cupped the side of your face, and he brought his lips to yours. The feeling it brought you was embarrassingly giddy. His mouth was warm on yours, and it along with your movement began working you up into a state you really shouldn’t be in for a woman who did this for a living. But he brought you there anyway, kissing you slowly at first then harsher, his tongue pushing past your teeth.
You let out a genuine moan, holding onto the back of his neck for dear life. This was not good. You couldn’t fuck this man in here. But oh, how you wanted to. You wanted him to take you over this chair, on the floor, against the wall. You wanted him so badly that when his free hand moved to your hip, you let it stay there. And he used it this time, tugging you down into his lap so hard that you felt every inch of how aroused he was, his cock digging into your ass. And he was moving now too, moving against your grinding rhythm with his hips.
You broke away from his mouth and let out a breathy, “Arthur,” that only made his head straighten up and his other hand join the first, pulling you down atop him even harder.
“Christ,” he groaned. “You’re good at this.”
You smiled. “This isn’t what I normally do in here.”
“Good,” he said, the word possessive enough to make arousal burn through you, straight to the most sensitive part of you.
He kept grinding against you but slowed. “I told myself I wouldn’t do this, you know.”
“Do what?” you asked, watching his strong hands pin you down as you both moved.
“Touch you like this. Not here. But then I saw what you were wearin’ and how you danced up there on stage.” He brought a hand up from your hip, gently touching your jaw and turning your face to his. He kissed you again, his mouth making your whole body burn with pleasure. He was good at this too.
“You saw me dance?” you panted, barely breaking away.
“I did,” he said before kissing you again, this time on your neck. His hand moved across your front, tugging you in tight to him.
You let out a shaky breath. “Was I any good?”
“Damn good. I was half hard just watching you.”
Before you could respond, though your body was doing that plenty, he kept on. “Not to mention how you look tonight. Different than the last time I was here. More…”
“Me?” you suggested, already bursting with pride that he liked your favorite outfit and the hair and makeup you had done yourself.
“That’s it,” he said lowly, giving a particularly harsh grind of his hips as he continued holding you against him.
“Fuck, you don’t stop that soon and I’m gonna lose it” you choked out, feeling a wave of pleasure coming on.
“You want me to stop?” he taunted.
“No,” you shot back, but you made up your mind otherwise. You couldn’t come on this man’s lap, and not at the club. You wanted to do it right, with him inside of you, away from here. Just how you’d been imagining for days. “But you have to,” you added.
With this, you took his hands and slowly ran them down your body before pushing them aside. It took everything in you to get off of his lap, but you did.
“What, they got some kind of rule against your pleasure in these rooms?” he quipped.
You turned and faced him, leaning so that your hands landed on his legs, your cleavage on display as you went eye-level with him.
“No. But I want you inside me when I come.”
That did it. Arthur clenched his jaw so hard you could see the muscles of his face pull in.
You smirked, glad to give him that particular imagery. “Meet me outside the club after my shift. That way neither of us has to hold back.”
You leaned in and gave him a lingering kiss on the cheek, running your hand down his leg one last time as you backed away from him. He just stared hard, looking like a man completely taken by you. You let that look be the lone thing for your feelings to cling onto as you left him sitting there.
~
The remainder of your shift passed quickly, excited as you were over what was to come. You spoke to John and Javier briefly and mentioned they may need to find a different ride home. Their resulting grins made you turn and teasingly smile at Arthur, who only looked away and ignored the three of you entirely. Other than that, you didn’t see Arthur again until you were walking out to your car. You’d parked out front this time, as hurried as you’d been to get here, and saw him leaning against his truck a few spaces away.
“Where are your kids?” you called out.
“I sent ‘em home,” he answered, smiling in that close-lipped, casual way that drove you crazy.
“Some babysitter you are,” you teased as you walked over to join him. With this, you heard a strong voice call out to you.
“All good over there?” This from Harry manning the front door, always watching out for his girls.
“All good, Harry. Thanks!” you said with a wave. Then, turning to Arthur, “So. You want my number or a ride to my place?”
“Ain’t no way I’m getting in that shit box with you,” he joked, nodding to your car. “I’ve seen how you drive.”
You feigned offense. “Shit box? I thought my mechanic fixed it up nice.”
He chuckled. “Looks like he did the best he could with what he had.”
You rolled your eyes then held out your hand. “Phone, then.”
He reached in his back pocket and unlocked his phone, placing it in your hand. You quickly found his contacts app on his nearly bare home screen and added your number with the contact name ‘Best Dancer My Lap’s Ever Met.’ You grinned and handed his phone back over. He let out a huff of a laugh and typed something out, making your own phone ding in response. From there, you just wore that grin and winked, turning on your heel to let him watch you walk away.
You got in your car and sent your address before leaving the Rouge. And as you did with the red neon fading away in your rearview, you knew that for once, you would be too distracted to be bothered by the traffic.
The ride felt short due to sudden nerves that you were having trouble mastering. This was much different than turning a man on at a club. This was intimate. And a small part of you hoped it wasn’t the only time it would happen either.
When you parked and got out to wait, seeing a familiar gray truck pull in, you were overcome by the sight of Arthur. He was so attractive to you that even the way he drove was distracting, wheeling that big truck around to further prove how capable he was. He parked perfectly straight and got out, joining you with a smile. When he stopped just shy of you and all you could do was stare at how handsome he was, he spoke. “You gonna ogle me all night or invite me in?”
You smiled then. “Both.” Then you took his hand and tugged him on.
You were busy thinking of how his fingers were threaded through yours when he took his hand away and brought an arm around you instead, never breaking step as he pulled you into him. You had to keep from giggling at the way he made you feel. And it only got worse when the pair of you reached your door and before you could even get your keys out, he backed you against the wall and started making out with you out in the damn open.
You were overwhelmed in seconds, his hands finding your hips, his tongue reaching yours.
After a moment tangled together, he backed off. “Mm. Seems I’ve lost all my patience.”
Yours was long gone, nowhere to be found. Especially since his body still pinned you to the wall and you could feel how hard he was against your front.
“What are you waiting for, then?” you asked, snaking your keys out of your purse and dangling them in front of him. He took them with a grin and turned, unlocking your door. He opened it wide and motioned you in, still every bit the gentleman that made you want him so bad in the first place.
From there, things got heated. Time melted away and wasn’t measurable in anything but his movements—shutting your door, making for you. Kissing you hard and desperate, causing your purse to drop to the floor. Backing you into the room with his strong hands, holding the kiss with nothing but strength and arousal.
You led him into your bedroom, the two of you never breaking as he leaned you over the bed, pressing his bodyweight into you.
You let him kiss you and kiss you, do as he pleased with you. You’d spent half your life leading the show, and for once you wanted to let go. You wanted to see how he would take the reins. And take them he did, easily leading you as he desired.
After he’d thoroughly turned you on with his mouth, he let you lay back on the bed as he got off of you, running his hands up your sides to take your shirt off. You let him, barely helping so that he would touch every inch of your skin he could. He brought the shirt up and over your arms then did the same with your bra, leaving your top half bare. That vainness in you burned bright when he took in the sight of your naked chest, his eyes hardening with arousal. But he didn’t touch you, taking off the rest of your clothes first. And only when you laid there beneath him completely bare did he touch you, running his hands up your sides and kissing you, mouthing you, running his tongue over your nipple.
You let out a shaky breath as you watched him, his handsome face shaped into that of satisfaction. His eyes had closed, like the taste of you alone was all he needed. And he began to suck and tease your nipple with his teeth, the feeling building up the beginnings of your pleasure.
You heard his boots thud to the carpet before he switched to your other nipple, gently guiding you higher up the bed beneath him. You laid a hand on his hair and had the fleeting thought that you wanted those boots to stay, wanted him here with you every night, showing you this pleasure.
“You want me to dance for you again?” you teased, trying your best to distract yourself from the feeling swelling in your chest for him.
He looked up at you with heavy-lidded eyes, still with your nipple in his mouth for a few seconds before he let go. The sight turned you on so bad you nearly made a face.
“I reckon it’s your turn to sit back and relax.”
You didn’t fully process that before he lifted up on those strong arms of his and moved down. He tugged you with him so that you went all the way to the edge of the bed with your legs hanging over.
Oh fuck.
Arthur knelt and propped your legs over his shoulders for you. “Been wantin’ to taste you for a while now.”
“Fuck,” you groaned aloud this time.
He started kissing a line up the inside of your thigh, speaking between each brush of his lips. “Ain’t no man can do this to you but me I bet.”
He was right about that much.
“No man even comes close, do they?”
“No one but you,” you breathed.
He laughed, low and daunting. “Good.” Then he brought his mouth to the most sensitive part of you, his tongue immediately dipping inside. Your breathing grew short and quick, your fingers tangling in his hair.
He started slow and grating, running his tongue up and in and out. Lapping at your wetness. His mouth was warm on you, his upper lip landing just under your clit. You needed him higher but didn’t dare move, because this alone was working you up, and you didn’t want to rush it. You wanted him to taste every inch of you, wanted this to be the new fantasy you dreamed of every time you pleasured yourself.
Arthur dipped his tongue into you deeper and deeper, running it along the upper side of you in a way that made you start to moan for him.
You were soaked now, there was no doubt about that, but he didn’t seem to care. He just tugged you closer with those strong hands, digging his fingers into the tops of your legs to hold you against his face.
He licked and sucked and drove you to an edge you didn’t know you could get to without him touching your clit. But then he did, and you lost it.
“Arthur,” you whimpered, arching your back, tugging his hair.
He ran his tongue over your clit, slow and steady. The immediate pleasure was so good you didn’t even need him to go faster to come, but he wasn’t done with you yet. He worked you higher and higher, setting a pace that steadily went faster and faster until you were panting, bucking, begging.
He started to suck on your clit hard, his tongue making tight circles against that bundle of nerves. Enough to have you taking in a shaky breath like you always did when you neared your release.
You pulled your lower legs down against his back, trapping him against you. You didn’t even have to focus on the pleasure. It built up all on its own, all because of his strong hands and able mouth.
He groaned at the way you held him against you, and that deep sound against your clit broke you. With a few last swirls of his tongue, you came impossibly hard, and he stayed there and lapped at you, dipping his tongue back into you to taste your release.
You were completely lost in his talent for this as your whole body twitched second after second, pleasure bursting forth.
Only when you could finally take in heavy breaths again did he pull away smiling, wiping your slick from his mouth. “That might just be the hottest thing you’ve done yet,” he said.
“Ditto,” you breathed, letting your head fall back.
He let out that low laugh that lit your ears before climbing back over you, kissing you again. And when you pressed a hand to his shirt, you remembered that it was still there. You couldn’t have that.
You leaned up with what little strength had returned to you and continued kissing him, reaching for the hem of his shirt. When you started tugging it upward, your knuckles brushed against coarse muscle and hair, making you break the kiss and look down. His chiseled body was already turning you on again—what little you’d glimpsed at the shop was nothing next to this. He had a smattering of hair that followed all the way up to his chest. And he was so strong. Built-up muscle that wasn’t refined like a man who worked out but stout like a man who worked hard. Your hands traced those muscles as he took over, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside.
He grinned then, smug. “If I’d known you were watching me through that shop window, I would have taken my shirt off a lot sooner for you.”
“You’d done that, and I would have fucked you right over that office desk,” you assured him, leaning into him and kissing him again. You both fell back on the bed, you atop him this time.
He smiled up at you as you broke away, wanting the rest of his clothes off.
“I don’t doubt that,” he said.
“You shouldn’t,” you assured him, unbuttoning those well-fitting jeans. “I thought about doing exactly that earlier that day. When you had me sign those papers.”
“What, in front of everyone?” he said with a laugh of disbelief.
“Yes,” you said simply, meeting his eye. His mouth parted slightly, the only sign that the idea turned him on. You elaborated. “I was thinking about what everyone would think of what a mess you could make of me on that desk.”
“Christ, woman,” he said lowly before leaning up to meet you, dragging you down atop him in another kiss, pants long forgotten in favor of his desire. You let him be, happy to feel his mouth against yours, his desperation in every sweep of his tongue.
He turned you on so thoroughly with just his mouth, it was no wonder you’d let this happen. Broken every last rule you had as a dancer, letting him into your apartment and into your life. You blamed it on the fact that at his shop that night, he’d admitted his feelings but still hadn’t expected anything from you. That wasn’t just rare for you—it was the first time it had ever happened. So you fell into the feeling now, allowing your arousal to be a result not only of his touch but of how much you wanted it. Needed it.
You broke the kiss and moved down, sliding his pants off his strong legs. He watched as you took his socks and briefs too, allowing his cock to spring up against his abdomen.
All you could do was stare at his impressive girth and let a slight smile turn your mouth, climbing back over him. Your turn.
You took him in hand and immediately set your mouth to his head, licking and teasing. You felt him go rigid underneath you and flicked your eyes up to see his reaction. His head had fallen back, his mouth parting in a heavy breath. You took him deeper, hollowing your cheeks and using your tongue, going up and down, slow and tight.
When he groaned and his hand fell to your hair, you debated letting him come just like this. The two of you had all night—plenty of time for multiple rounds. Plus, part of you was prideful and wanted to pull that pleasure from him. Just as you decided that the idea wasn’t a bad one, starting to take him as deep as you could, he stopped you and pulled you upward in one strong tug. You were somewhat surprised by his ability to do that so easily, staring at him nose to nose with wide eyes.
He cracked a satisfied smile. “You still want me inside you when you come?”
Even though he was just repeating your own words back to you, hearing them out of his mouth made those sensitive muscles of yours clench with arousal.
“Yes.”
“You best cut that out then, or you won’t get the chance.”
You tilted your head. “Figured I could make you come more than once.”
His brows knit together, his gaze showing a seriousness you knew belonged to need. After a beat of the two of you staring at each other, his cock distractingly close to where you wanted it, he said lowly, “We’ll see about that.” Then he flipped you.
You felt a pout form on your face when he immediately raised up, leaving you lying there while he got off the bed. But when you saw why, another beat of admiration for him tangled through you. He was digging through his jeans for his wallet.
“Condom?” you asked.
“Yeah,” he said simply, like it wasn’t a thing in the world. All the times you’d been with shitty men who gave excuse after excuse not to wear one came back to you, and you couldn’t help but smile at Arthur’s willingness.
“You clean?”
He stopped what he was doing. “Yeah. Why?”
“Just that I’m on the pill. And likely cleaner than anyone you’ve ever been with if you don’t wanna fool with that.”
You watched his expression go from hesitancy to intrigue to arousal. It was the last look that had your blood heating, those eyes he pinned you with so goddamn attractive. And when he dropped his jeans and rejoined you on the bed, his broad body enveloping yours, you could feel your heart kick up its pace.
“That so?” he teased.
“That’s so,” you replied before his mouth was on yours again, barely giving you a chance to get the words out.
In your experience, sex work had a different meaning depending on who you asked. For you, it was just dancing. For others, it was the act in its fullest sense. But when Arthur trapped you underneath him and started kissing you deeper and deeper, his cock sliding between your thighs, the entire concept of work went out the door. This was neither. You’d never felt so admired, so wanted, so needed for reasons that went beyond your body. Arthur wanted you. Not a dancer, not a body, but a person. And you knew that because of the way he showered you with attention, one hand sliding around the back of your head, the other running down to your hip. His tongue finding yours and with each brush of it, pushing you down into the bed. He was desperate for this just like you were. And there was only one explanation for that—he had the same feelings for you as you did for him.
When Arthur broke the kiss long enough to look you in the eye and ask permission to fuck you, you were a goner.
“Yes,” you breathed out, the word heavy with the discovery of how much he wanted you. Then he brought his lips to yours and rocked his hips forward. You let out a whimper of gratification when the head of his cock slipped inside of you, already stretching you wide with how thick he was. He grunted, the sound going right into your mouth as he continued pushing in, going deep.
When Arthur stopped, buried as far inside of you as he could be, he broke away and flashed those pretty eyes at you. “This okay?”
“If you don’t fucking move already-”
Your insistence was interrupted by his low laugh. Then he dragged himself out of you, hesitated, and plunged back in, agonizingly slow. Oh, he knew what he was doing all right. The feeling had you hanging onto every ounce of grating pleasure. Especially when he kept hesitating like that, making you want to beg. Not to mention his lips falling to your throat, kissing and mouthing you.
As much as you wanted to go cross-eyed with pleasure, this was about him too. You wanted to see how worked up you could get him. So you spoke.
“Been dreaming of doing this with you every night since I first laid eyes on you,” you said low, right into his ear. Your fingers found his back and started rubbing small circles in the muscled flesh there. His hips hitched then kept on that slow pace—the clearest sign that he’d heard you loud and clear.
“Been thinking of all the ways you would fuck me. At the club. Here. At your shop.”
He sped up his pace, just barely. But his cock driving so deep was enough to make you moan before you kept on him.
“How you would…bend me over every surface and…and how’d you say it? Have your way with me?”
He grunted then, starting to really pick up his pace. That and his mouth coming back to yours made whatever teasing comment you had die a quick death. Fuck, you would come from his cock alone.
He broke the kiss and brought his head to the side, like kissing you was too much for him. His ragged breathing as he pumped into you further proved it. But the worst thing of all, the one that made you forget all about his pleasure, was when he looked you square in the eye and stopped dead, buried deep. “My turn.”
You realized then that he was smarter than you gave him credit for, catching on to what you were doing and stopping himself from nearing that edge. He moved you with him in one smooth motion, pulling out and sliding his body underneath you as he kept you held against him. You laid with your back to him, sitting in his lap from where he’d propped himself back against your pillows. And even better, you had a full length mirror in your room that was letting you in on just how much he wanted you, those heavy eyes of his watching your every movement. The only thing you uttered was a shaky breath as he kissed the side of your neck and said, “Ride me like you did in the club.”
Fucking gladly.
You lifted up and took his cock in hand, making him let out a literal growl of pleasure that had your cunt throbbing with need. You sat slowly, intentionally, letting every inch of him stretch you. Then your eyes flicked back to the mirror, watching as you leaned back against his strong chest and started to move on him. It was a glorious sight, one you almost wanted to take a picture of.
His hands found your hips again, pulling you down against him. You ground down hard, harder than you had at the club. You let every thrust of his cock hit that sweet spot inside you, building up the pleasure you’d so desperately wanted to feel since you’d met him.
“That’s it,” he said on an outward breath, the most blissed-out you’d ever heard him.
His hand left your hip and came down on your lower stomach, and fuck if you couldn’t feel how deep inside of you he was. He bucked his hips up to meet you then, and you watched in the mirror, your mouth falling open.
“You like riding me?” he taunted. “Like watching us in the mirror like this?”
“Yes,” you whined. Then took him harder, your hand circling the back of his neck like you’d done in the Rouge. All thought was blotted out at the feeling of his cock, and how hard you were grinding against him, and how much you suddenly wanted his mouth back. You looked away from the mirror and up to him. “Kiss me.”
His eyes fluttered with the slightest show of desire before his mouth came over yours, sure and demanding. That was when you lost it.
You ground down and he fucked into you slow and rough, and he took your mouth all tongue and teeth and need. Your gaze flashed to the mirror one last time, and the sight before you pushed you into pure ecstasy. You came on his cock, just as you’d promised, moaning into his mouth. He refused to let up, still forcing your hips down and swallowing the sound with how greedily he kissed you. But you didn’t miss how he groaned when you flexed around him, how it sounded desperate this time. So you let him keep on, not realizing how close he was until you pulled him in closer as you kissed him, still fluttering with the last waves of your orgasm.
He pulled away from your mouth and sat you down on his cock with one harsh push, making you watch. The mirror was a damn sight to behold as his eyes squeezed shut and he let out a deep groan, stilling as deep inside of you as he could be.
You cursed low and filthy, unable to resist. He just let out a grunt of pure pleasure, still coming and holding you there to take it all.
After a moment held together like this, his entire body relaxed as he brought a hand up to your jaw, turning you and kissing you again. You could only think about how deep he still was, how much you wanted him to stay there.
He broke away and gave you a satisfied smile. “Even better than I imagined.”
“Me? Are you fucking kidding me? The club should hire you.”
He let out a bark of a laugh. “Now there’s a sight.”
You laughed with him, settling against his chest. Fully content to cockwarm him if that’s what he wanted. He settled with you, running his fingers up and down your side. Your gaze flicked to the mirror again and so did his.
“You always got that mirror there?”
“Yeah. But I’m sure as hell never moving it now.” Not with a sight like this, his cock still inside you as you lay there together propped up on the bed.
Arthur chuckled then teasingly ran his fingers up to your nipple and pinched. Your remaining arousal throbbed between your legs, making him groan all growl-like again. That sound was music to your ears.
“Real question is, how quick do you recover?”
“Why?” he said, that teasing tone of his making you smile. “My cock still inside you not enough?”
You met his eye with a devilish glint in your own. “I want it to stay there.”
His voice dropped low again. “That so?”
You nodded, biting your lip. Because the way he looked at you was a promise of its own. And as it stood, you wanted him to fill you with his come all night long.
He smirked. “Then tell me again about your plans for that office desk.”
With that, you were lost in how infatuated you were with the man, describing every last detail of what you wanted him to do to you. And you were delighted with how the minutes passed, and he hardened while he was still inside you. That was the most aroused anyone had ever made you. Then Arthur did as you asked and started with your first request, rising from the bed and taking you with him. He wrapped your legs around his waist and fucked you against the wall, using all that strength of his you so loved to admire. And before long, you were both panting, grabbing at every inch of skin, kissing and cursing and dying to let go.
When Arthur fulfilled your second request and took you down to the floor, you did come. Twice. Once with him facing you, once with him railing you from behind. And as he kept on through your second orgasm, never letting up an inch, you thought that you had found the perfect man. Unbelievably, you’d found him at the club. And you were so glad you’d given him a chance, all because he held doors open and called you miss and let you decide for yourself how this would go. That meant more to you than you could say. So when he came a second time, half-collapsing on top of you but still holding you up with one steady arm, you couldn’t help but look to those boots of his on your bedroom floor. You finally let your feelings for him take over at the sight, for once in your life unafraid to do so. Because despite what you did for a living and despite how you’d met, you both wanted each other for no other reason than how you made each other feel. And that was all you’d ever truly craved.
“You’ll be the death of me yet, woman,” he said through heavy breaths.
You smiled, allowing yourself to be happy. Then you turned and kissed him.
I have only been reading 2 of your fics but im wondering if you deal with horses in real life? You seem to know a lot about them! Sorry this question is a bit silly 🏃♀️💨
Not silly at all! Yes, I have three horses. They are my babies and I love them so much 🥺🥰 I’m amazed you caught that through my writing that makes me feel so accomplished!!
Do you…mind…writing omegaverse? I’ve just gotten this terrible idea of alpha arthur being with beta reader…yk?
Okay it’s wild you ask, because the first thing I ever wrote was an omegaverse fic with alpha Arthur. But reader was an omega. It’s like twenty chapters long and very messy because it’s when I first started writing, so I’ll probably never post it. BUT it was wildly hot and I will gladly write something like it again 👀👀
A Standing Offer Pt. 2 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)
Summary: When your car ends up with a minor problem, you’re forced to interact with Arthur again.
Author’s Notes: Part two of this one.
Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, modern Arthur Morgan, eventual smut
AO3 Link
~
A Standing Offer
Word count: 3418
Part Two
“That aren’t gonna buff out, Artur.”
Arthur was doing his best to ignore the Irishman at his side, sweat beginning to bead across his forehead for his efforts. He was trying hard to get your bumper back in working order, but it was proving more difficult than he’d thought.
“What is it they call insanity? Doing the same ting over again and expecting different results?”
“Quit while you’re ahead,” Arthur grumbled.
“Exactly what you should doing there.”
Arthur stood so fast that Sean jumped back to avoid him. Arthur laughed at him. “What you so jumpy for? I’m just getting another cover for this buffer.”
“Oh, sure you are,” Sean said. “Very funny.”
“Unless you think I have reason to beat your teeth in,” Arthur suggested.
“Me? Never,” Sean answered, following Arthur along as he made for the part he was looking for.
“Shit, there’s reason enough to give you a good beating every day,” Arthur said, scanning the shelves on the wall. He found the right cover for the buffer machine and took it off the shelf, feeling along it to see if it would do the trick. He wasn’t quite pleased, but it was worth trying at least.
“You always this nasty toward your friends?” Sean teased.
Arthur finally turned to him. “To my coworker who won’t go work his job, keeping me from mine in the process? Yes.”
“Ahh, you love me though. Besides, I know what it is. You’re just hung up on that girl. What’s her name? Ruby?”
Arthur really could have punched him then, and John and Javier too for ever mentioning you in the first place.
“I ain’t hung up on anyone. Now go do the job you’re hired to do before I fire you myself.”
Sean let out a bark of a laugh. “You wish you could, English.” But, thankfully, he let Arthur be and went back to the old Chevy he had been assigned a week ago.
Even though Arthur’s shadow was gone, he found himself even more aggravated when he continued buffing out the bumper. The breaks in the plastic that resulted when the piece bent back into its proper shape weren’t going anywhere.
Arthur put the buffer down and rocked back on his knees, hands on his hips. This weren’t good. Either you’d need a new bumper, or you would have to come up here and confirm that you were all right with the damage. The second one was cheaper, but Arthur wanted no reason for the boys at the shop to keep ribbing him over you. It didn’t make any goddamn sense, as far as he was concerned. John and Javier were the two idiots who had cornered you in that club. He’d barely even spoken to you in comparison. But no, all he’d heard since was how sweet on you he was, volunteering to fix up your car cheap. He wished he’d never even offered.
Truth be told, Arthur didn’t quite know why he’d done it. There was the obvious, that he felt bad for all the damage his truck had caused that you would have to pay for. But beyond that, he’d told himself the minute he left the Rouge that he would block all thought of you off. True, he couldn’t keep his eyes off you that night, and also true, he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you’d spoken to him. But it was your job to act as you had toward him. He didn’t think he’d ever have reason to see you again anyway. When he got out of his truck in all that buzzing traffic, the last person he’d expected was you, shouting at some poor girl enough to make her look like she was shrinking into her clothes. He was so amused by your change in behavior that he’d told himself right then and there to be done with it all. He couldn’t fall for a stripper who had only paid him any mind because she was getting paid to do so. So, he’d told you the damage, determined to leave it there, then the words that he would help you came spilling out of his mouth before he could stop them. And he’d regretted them every moment since.
Arthur wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his arm, knowing either way, the shape the car was in at least warranted a call. Best to get it over with sooner rather than later.
~
A number you didn’t have saved in your phone crossed your screen, distracting you from your reality TV. You would normally damn whoever it was and ignore it, but a lot of random numbers had been calling you since moving and starting a new job. You groaned loudly and picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Y/N? This is Arthur.”
Well, well. You didn’t like the excitement that bolted through you one bit.
“Hey,” you said simply, not wanting to make this some big deal. Simple phone call, back to your show.
“I got a problem with your car.”
Just perfect. Couldn’t you have one relaxing day?
“What is it?”
“I got the front bumper back in place, but the breaks in the plastic won’t buff out.”
“So…”
“So you’ll either have to keep it like this or order a new bumper.”
“Oh.” That was an easy decision. “It doesn’t affect driving it, does it?”
“No, just cosmetic.”
You grinned at his use of the word cosmetic. “Easy enough. Leave it like it is.”
“Can do,” he said. And, just before you were about to hang up and go back to your show, “I’ll need you to come look at the damage and sign off on it.”
Christ. You really didn’t need to go see this man in person again. You would have to go back up there to get your car anyway, but you were hoping Arthur would already be busy with another car by then. “Can’t you just sign it for me? Take this as my personal attestation that I won’t sue you?”
“Afraid not,” he said simply.
“Ugh. Fine. When do I need to come up there?”
“It’s ready now. Anytime before five.”
“Great,” you said with as much sarcasm as you could muster. “Be there soon.”
“Bye,” he said, and hung up before you could.
“Bye,” you said in a sing-song voice, tossing your phone across the couch. This was just not what you needed right now. You were thrilled the car was done so soon, but you were determined to get this man out of your head. Going to see him at his shop, where he dressed like masculinity given form, would not help. But you sucked it up and called an uber anyway, at least glad that you wouldn’t have to inconvenience Janiyah by bumming a ride anymore.
The entire ride to the shop, you watched the traffic from the back seat and did your best to hold your tongue. But truly, you would have to move closer to the club or something. This road rage was taking years off your life.
Before you could do something stupid enough to ruin your uber rider rating, you arrived at Arthur’s shop. It was named Van der Linde Auto Shop—a mouthful of a name that you’d told them to change upon learning it. Because of it, though, you’d learned that Arthur didn’t own the place, that his last name was Morgan, and way too many other personal things about the guys who worked here. John and Javier included. The owner hadn’t been in the last time, and neither had the rest of their little gang of merry men. But today as you walked up in broad daylight, the place was crawling with them.
“Y/N,” someone called out from your right, and you squinted into the sunlight to find John. There laid another problem—because of the business with the cars and the cops, they now knew your real name.
John loped over, pausing his work on a ridiculously jacked-up truck you had a sneaking suspicion was his.
“Hey. Arthur’s just inside. Said to let him know when you got here.”
“Well, here I am,” you said, curious over John’s enthusiasm. You wondered if it was due to flattery or guilt. Most men couldn’t help feeling one or the other toward you after meeting you a second time.
“This way,” he said, sure as ever. You followed him in through the shop’s big bay doors, thinking he was likely feeling both. But you refrained from calling him on it, remembering the woman he and Arthur had been arguing about at the club. No need to insert yourself there.
“Arthur! Y/N’s here,” John called out to the floor.
You couldn’t see Arthur but heard him call out, “Give me a minute. Almost done here.”
You turned to John and smiled. “Thanks for the help.”
The scars across his face stretched as he smiled back. “No problem. See you.” Then he turned to go, and you could only laugh under your breath at his confidence.
“Yeah, see you.”
Wanting to get out of here as quick as you could, you went looking for Arthur. There were cars in the way and four other men you could see working—Javier and three others you’d never met—but no Arthur. Javier waved at you with a shit-eating grin on his face. You didn’t even want to know, just waved back. But you did spot your car near the back of the shop, so you made for it. Only, you saw sudden movement by your feet and stopped, taking in the sight of…holy fuck.
There were two work boots and a very familiar pair of well-fitting jeans sticking out from under the car at your side. Arthur was on his back on one of those stupid roller things, and the way he reached up to work on the underside of the car revealed a sliver of very chiseled, deliciously sweaty abdomen. You had two seconds to imagine your tongue on those muscles before you mentally kicked yourself and behaved.
You nudged one of his boots. “So, should I come down there, or..?”
There was a moment’s hesitation before he pushed himself out from under the car, rising up and putting those abs to work. You forced yourself not to watch them. Even though the rest of him looked just as good in a black shirt that stretched across his broad chest. He had black streaks across his arms and hands from whatever he had been doing with the car, and he started to wipe them away with a dirty rag.
“What part of ‘give me a minute’ didn’t you get?” he asked, though he sported a smug look as he said it.
You just shrugged. “You look done to me.” Not just done—hot as fuck, you thought to yourself. The way he cleaned his hands with that rag made his forearm muscles turn over, bulging. Something about the movement and the black shirt as opposed to the white one he had been in the last time...
Now that you took him all in, you realized he was undoubtedly threatening in a way that ran past the seams of his shirt and down his coarse arm muscles to his able hands. This man was barely-contained power. And yet, you still wanted it all for yourself.
“I am done,” he said. “But make no mistake, if I weren’t, you’d be waitin’.”
“You sure know how to charm a girl,” you replied lazily, easily. It was so easy to flirt with him you made a point to keep the chit chat to a minimum from then on.
He smirked and threw the rag on top of the car, rolling the contraption he’d been lying on back under the car with his boot. “Car’s over here,” he said, leading the way. You watched his ass in those jeans again, not really caring to divert your gaze. If this was the last time you saw him, it was best to take in the view.
He stopped just before your car and pointed at the front bumper. “Scratches are just there.”
You leaned down to get a better look and were pleasantly surprised. They really weren’t bad. You certainly wouldn’t be buying a whole new bumper just to fix a few pieces of fractured plastic. They were noticeable, but the thing was drivable and had two properly-shaped bumpers again. That was the best you could ask for at the price he was offering.
You straightened up and turned to him, and his gaze flicked back to your face. From where it had been on your ass.
This was a dangerous game the two of you were playing.
“Looks fine to me,” you said. “Where do I sign?”
He just grunted in response, motioning for you to follow him. You really wished he wasn’t so gruff. Rude, really. If he’d just accepted your dance back at the club, he would be gone from your thoughts entirely. But no. He had to make things difficult, like he knew you were a sucker for a challenge.
Arthur led you back to the shop’s corner office, one you noted was walled with glass. Likely so whoever was in here could see what was happening on the shop floor, though your mind went to less innocent things, like what all those workers would think of what a mess Arthur could make of you on this very desk. You shook that thought off before it could take root and looked to Arthur. He had found the form he wanted from the filing cabinet and laid it down on the desk, beginning to fill out the details of the repair. You watched his shoulders and back muscles work against the tiny weight of the pen on paper. This man really was a sight to admire.
“There, if you’ll just…sign there,” he said finally, flipping the paper around for you to sign. He held the pen out to you, and you impulsively tried to catch his gaze as you took it, but he wouldn’t look up. Coward.
You set your purse down in the chair at your side and signed. When you finished and handed him back the pen, he gathered up all the paperwork and the receipt. Then you paid and knew it was time to go or else risk getting hung up on this idiot.
“Here’s the keys,” he said, handing them over. “Try your best to drive a little better from now on.”
“Shut up,” you quipped. “Like you wouldn’t be happy to have me back in.”
He chuckled and shook his head, his face tingeing red. “Go before I charge you for keeping me from my job.”
You gave him one last long look, memorizing that handsome face, before turning on your heel. “Thank you, Arthur.”
All he said in response as he followed you back to the floor was, “Be sure to put it in reverse to back out of here. That’s the one with the ‘R’.”
“Shut the fuck up,” you shot back, though you gave him a smile and a laugh as you did, secretly hoping that just as it usually did at the Rouge, the look would linger.
~
It took you until you got out of your car back at your apartment to realize you didn’t have your purse. It, and your phone, and your wallet, were still sitting in that goddamn chair at Arthur’s shop.
You let out a groan and slapped a hand to your forehead, debating turning right around to go get it. You would need it for work tonight. But you also didn’t want to see Arthur again. You’d spent the entire ride home cursing yourself a fool for how you’d acted toward him at the shop. It was infuriating, really, how you just wanted to be done with him, but seeing him made you turn into the world’s biggest, most obnoxious flirt. You could not get involved with this man. It went against every instinct you had in your professional life. So, you did what any sane person would do when faced with such a problem and avoided it. You stomped upstairs and slammed your apartment door shut behind you, leaving that problem for a later, much wiser, version of yourself.
After eating a ridiculous amount of junk food and bingeing reality TV for the rest of the day, you finally gave in and left a little earlier than usual to go get your purse back before work. You only hoped that John or Javier or literally anyone other than Arthur would be the one to retrieve it for you when you got there.
Upon arriving, not only were you disappointed, you were debating turning right back around and leaving. It was late enough on a Wednesday night that everyone else had left for the day, and only Arthur’s gray truck remained sitting just in front of the office. Fuck.
All you could do was go in and get your shit and leave with as few words as possible, and that’s exactly what you aimed to do as you parked beside him and walked up to the door. But then you saw him through the glass office windows walking around the shop carrying some power tool, lifting his shirt up to wipe his sweat away. You watched that glorious body in silence, not moving a muscle to go inside as he used the tool to saw a piece off of a car. Fuck him and his stupid sculpted body.
Before you could move, he looked up and saw you standing there. He startled a little but set the tool down and walked over to you, opening the door. “Jesus, you trying to scare the shit out of me?”
“Sorry,” you managed. “I was just…I left my purse.”
“Oh. Where?”
You pointed inside the shop to the chair that held the tiny bundle of leather you could have burned up with the spite you felt toward it.
He held the door open wider for you and motioned for you to come in.
“Sorry about that,” you said honestly. “Didn’t mean to take up so much of your day.”
He huffed a laugh. “You sure about that?”
You stopped and turned toward him. “What do you mean?”
He crossed the room and took your purse, handing it to you in an annoyingly courteous way that made you think get out now before you do something stupid.
“Just that I’m starting to think you like my company,” he said, meeting your eye with a smile so charming that it made your flirting look pitiful in comparison.
You were lost on a comeback and settled for a simple, “I’m just forgetful is all.” Even though that couldn’t be farther from the truth—he had distracted you into forgetting your purse earlier.
“Uh huh,” he quipped. “And you just happened to be looking my way when I spotted you watching me work through that window, right?”
You felt your face heat. “Something like that.”
He really smiled now. “‘Course.”
He let the silence stretch enough for you to feel a panic you normally never did when it came to men.
“Well, thank you,” you said, turning for the door. “I owe you.”
“Nah, you don’t owe me anything. We’re even,” he said as he stepped forward and opened the door for you.
You passed him and walked into the night air, about to do the very thing you knew you shouldn’t. But you did, because he was a good person under all that toughness.
“Not even a dance?” you quipped, turning on him with a raised eyebrow.
His face hardened, his jaw clenching just a heartbeat long enough for you to know the comment had its desired effect. But then he leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms in amusement.
“You want to know why I turned you down before? Why I will every time you ask?”
Your heart started racing in a way no man had made it race in years. “Why?”
“Because I don’t pay for it. If I get what I want from you, it ain’t going to be for any money.”
You just stared at him. He stood straight and let the door fall in, retreating back into his shop. “Night,” he said without looking back. And you were left watching him go, for once the one allowing a man’s words to linger.
kianamaiart
blakekathryn
dailybridgerton
areudirty
germansingergirl
andulkaphoto
gummygunk
stormborns
theartofmadeline
gracieabrams
