𝐋𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐲𝐝𝐨𝐞 ⋆⭒˚.⋆ @lambydoe - Tumblr Blog

Leather & Sandalwood 𓃗

Arthur Morgan x Reader

Words: ~7.4k

Summary: You're the daughter of a renowned horse merchant, and your father's left you alone while gone on a business trip. A cowboy's arrived in Rhodes, looking for aid for his ill horse. You do what you can to help. He does what he can to repay you.

Warnings: porn w plot, heavy smut, cunnilingus, fingering, age difference, soft dom arthur, unprotected p in v, creampie, praise, enemies to lovers, angst, mentions of drinking, mentions of smoking.

Authors note: This is my first ever real, full-blown smut, so feel free to critique in n give feedback in comments. This was written for a friend of mine :) enjoy!

𓃗𓃗𓃗𓃗

Rhode’s had always been as reclusive as it was prim. Your father had taught you that long ago—though it took years of missed Sunday masses, and the hushed whispers that followed, for the lesson to truly sink in. Even once it had, it was one of those truths that proved impossible to undo. Being unmarried at your age was unorthodox enough; overseeing your father’s stables while he travelled the county for days at a time was worse. He was a horse merchant, and for your entire youth, you had lived accustomed to hunger pangs and dirt under your fingernails. There wasn’t a large market for horses in Rhodes- as the town was generally wealthy in comparison to the neighboring towns- and so for the sake of your wealth and your family, your father had often been forced to leave for days at a time on trips across the county.

Only two weeks ago, he had told you he’d be leaving again—only this time, for far longer than a few days.

“Honey, I’ve got to,” he had said, voice feigning sympathy. “We’ve got two fellas in Valentine willin’ to pay ten times what the folks ’round here will. I can get you those dresses you been wantin’. We could be eatin’ good for months.”

You’d seethed at his words, pushing back from the dinner table so abruptly your chair scraped the floor. You knew your father like the back of your hand, and you could see the way his eyes shone in excitement and the prospect of making money, and getting out of this town, altogether. You hated him for it, to be honest. But with the bright morning sun filtering in through your lightly cracked window, illuminating the thin layer of dust that had settled over your family home- with its little decor, and its worn-down furniture- You could feel the hate settle into shame, knowing that money was necessary. You and your father had been living off what coins he had saved from his last sale, and you had known that it wouldn’t last you both much longer. You saw the way he paced around his study at night, writing letters to young families in Valentine and Strawberry, offering deals far too low on his best horses. You watched as your breakfast scraps grew slimmer as money grew sparce. As much as you couldn’t stand to be left alone again; part of you knew it was what had to be done.

“And what’ll the townspeople say?” you’d murmured angrily, turning back to face him. “You’re gonna come home and find me tied up and tried for heresy at this rate, Daddy.”

The worry had settled deep into the lines of his face then, his mouth opening and closing as he searched for the right words

“It—it won’t be like that. I promise,” he’d said. “I’ll talk to the businesses. Let ’em know I’m leavin’ you here alone, a-and you just can’t help it.”

You’d dragged a hand down your face, exhaustion already setting in. It was late July, the height of summer, and the air clung to your skin. It felt suffocating being alone with him like this.

“Christ, Daddy,” you’d muttered. “a whole month.”

And with a sad raise of his greyed, bushy eyebrows, he gave a look as if to say: What can be done?

And that had been the end of it.

Days later, he left on said month-long voyage, taking the stable’s best stallions with him as he rode off in your family’s worn, wooden carriage. You watched until he disappeared down the road, dust settling slowly in his wake.

By mid-August, the silence had grown unbearable. You knew it was bound to happen- You had said it yourself. But to walk through town and watch women avert their gaze and mumble to their sons, or men whisper words like “whore” and “hussy”, was more than you had assumed would be the case. You had hoped his promise of talking to some of the local business folk had held up, but even if it had- They still offered you only judgement. It was bound to happen; you reasoned with yourself. Rhodes was a small, religious and wealthy town filled with old folk, and snobby rich debutantes. It was only natural that an unmarried woman being the sole, temporary guardian of a business and estate would turn heads, but to be this socially outcasted stung worse than you could’ve imagined.

Still, things had to be done. Milk and meats had to be bought, hay had to be picked up, and housework wouldn’t be doing itself.

So, you found yourself on a stale, august morning, side-saddled on the back of your oldest mare, Bessie. The town was desolate- Not because of your presence but because folks never got lively around this time, anyway. It was a Sunday, and the town would be gathered at St-Peter's parish for its weekly mass. You never liked to go to those sermons, but then again, neither had your father. For a while he went, you recalled, but shortly after, realized he was better off tending to his merchandise and business than wasting time praying for things he knew he wouldn’t get. Your anger at him eased a little internally at this thought.

He’s only trying to give us what God never would. A better life.

You were lost in melancholic thought as Bessie’s hooves rhythmically hit the road, leaving puffs of dust as her weight shifted from step to step. Suddenly, snapping you out of your trance, you felt as she halted, much too fast. You jolted upwards- and before you could even process what had made her stop, you felt yourself buck up and slide off her back as her large torso lifted off the ground in less than a second. She let out a shrill sound as your back hit the ground in a loud thud, the wind shooting out of your lungs.

The sky seemed to spin for a moment before you could find the strength to catch your breath and lift yourself up. Bessie had trotted off to a fence nearby, still neighing and swinging her tail. From the corner of your eye, you could see another horse, and as you turned around you nearly managed a smile at the hope that your father had return home weeks early.

But your eyes didn’t meet your father. They met those of a man you had never seen before. Tall and tan, with the warmed skin colour of someone who spent their days out in the sun. He sported a cowboy’s hat, and disheveled clothes all in various brown hues.

You looked up in part awe, and part fear.

Is he a cowboy? And if he is, I’m alone, without Bessie, in the middle of a road with no people around.

Before you could come up with a plan to get back to Bessie somehow, he spoke from atop his horse.

“Y’alright missy?”

The voice came out gruff and languid, as if he found what had just happened amusing. You could swear you even saw a smirk playing on the corner of his mouth. You couldn’t help but scoff at the fact that he found you nearly dying funny.

“I’m just fit as a fiddle.” You yelled back, sarcasm ringing through your tone as you dusted off your arms.

He slid off his horse and patted its saddle. “Lemme help you there.”

You put your hand up in protest, and raised your knees, pushing back into the ground and scooting away from him. You couldn’t help but internally groan at the fact that you’d have to spend extra time tonight scrubbing the dirt stains out of your only good skirt.

“I said I’m alright. No need.” You shot back, but without hesitation he wrapped a large hand around your wrist and yanked you up, leaving you to stumble on your feet as you set yourself up right.

“Christ almighty, what part of no need, do you not understand?” You yelled, rubbing at your wrist.

The man only stared, mouth open a little in amusement, and brows furrowed as if he were confused by something.

“You got quite the nerve, girl.” He drawled, shaking his head. “Yellin’ at me like that. If it was any one of them raiders, you’d have a hole put in you by now.”

You swallowed hard at the implication, a cool sweat creeping down your back.

“Well, laughing at folks who fall off their horses will do that.” You managed weakly. “I could’ve broke my neck, y’know. You scared the hell out of her.”

You turned to motion to Bessie but found that she was now happily eating grass as if nothing had happened, tail batting away whatever flies threatened to land on her hind.

He smiled a little, letting out a breathy whistle.

“She don’t look too scared.” He said, tipping his head down to look at you properly. “You sure you ain’t the scared one?”

You stared, a dumbfounded look washing over your face as you tried to decipher his intentions. He waited, patient for a reply.

“Who even are you?” You huffed, tucking a strand of hair that had fallen over your face, back behind your ear.

“Arthur Morgan, ma’am. I ride with Dutch's group.” He paused, eyes flickering over your guarded expression. “I ain’t lookin for trouble.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“Does scarin’ a young girl and knockin’ her off her horse not count as trouble?” You prodded, a hand coming up to rub your elbow where you noticed it began to ache.

He let out a gruff laugh, more breath than sound, eyebrows knit in an expression of mild confusion. He looked bewildered, as if he couldn’t tell whether you were bold or stupid.

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you, girl.”

He had inched closer a little, and you suddenly got a real grasp at just how tall he was. It made your stomach twist in both fear and adrenaline; being alone with someone who could do whatever they wanted to you if their intentions were skewed. He looked down, awaiting a reply with that same strange expression, but your mind was elsewhere, processing what was even happening.

“Nothin’ to say?” He simply said, and you shook your head, a faint blush creeping up your neck.

Flustered, you whipped around and quickly gathered your things off the ground, snatching up your satchel and marching back over to where Bessie stood, still gnawing on some hay.

Hopping back over her hind, boot wedged in the saddle, you grunted as you secured yourself on top of her, and when you finally found yourself much higher than the Morgan man, you found the confidence to look down at him and speak.

“You best get on out of here, mister.” You managed to say, words slow and serious as you white-knuckled your horses reigns. “This town don’t like strangers.”

He tilted his head to look up at you, eyes squinting with a seriousness he didn’t have before. He simply replied with the slightest of nods and then turned back over to his horse. It almost made you say something worse.

He gets a reaction out of me but gets to completely ignore whatever I say?

It was a tempting thought, you couldn’t lie, but part of you just wanted him gone. And when he had turned away, you found yourself breathing a sigh of relief, feeling your chest loosen as if it had been holding a breath.

Mind already elsewhere, you were surprised to hear throat clearing as he spoke once more. You whipped around only to see him now atop of his horse, broad forearms holding the reigns of his stallion. They looked strong up there, you noticed; veins straining against the leather straps of his saddle reigns. He looked strong up there. It made you angrier, in an odd way.

“I guess I’ll see you ‘round.” He smiled, but his face still looked serious. “...Since I don’t plan on leavin’ anytime soon.”

You thought he might’ve prodded further, winking or calling you some sort of name, but he only lifted his chin high enough to look down at you with lidded eyes, and then simply turned his horse around, trotting off back towards the east part of town.

What an asshole.

𓃗𓃗𓃗𓃗

It was a few days later when you saw him again.

You were in the tailor's shop, looking to fix an old skirt you had found at the bottom of your clothing trunk, when you heard the door chimes ring. You were used to not turning around to look at folks; finding that making eye contact with them only ever lead to more comments and mean looks.

The tailor was in the back, sewing up your skirt's hem. He wasn't as reluctant as most businessmen were with you, since he had owed your father a large favor. It was relieving, and you found yourself resting your palms against the large oak counter, eyelids nearly fluttering shut in exhaustion.

You were only awoken by the slow, sudden sound of large boots thudding against the wood-planked floor. A whiff of sandalwood and old leather, and when you whipped around you were face-to-chest with that same damn cowboy.

"My..." He said eyebrows raised in pleasant surprise, giving you a little tilt of the head.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. You offered only a sharp glance, before turning back around to the counter. You would not ruin your relationship with the only understanding business man in this town by associating with a criminal.

He shifted the weight of his feet, and you could hear the floor creak louder now. God, he must weigh easily 200 pounds. You could feel how large and tall he was only by his presence, and as he walked closer to the counter, you could sense him towering over you. Part of you wondered whether you'd see his chin if you tilted your head up, but no. He wasn't that tall... Right?

Never the less he persisted, and that was something you had begun to learn about him. God was he stubborn. You watched as a large arm pressed against the counter, just to your left, boxing you in. You whipped around to find him leaning next to you, little puffs of dust coming off his pants and boots as he settled against the wood. He looked around innocently, but you noticed that nothing he ever did looked truly innocent. He had this serious, stoic expression that only ever let other emotions peek through it in small amounts. He never looked just amused, or just happy, but rather serious- with little traces of amusement or happiness showing themselves through the lines in his face, or the gleam of his eyes.

"Yer ignoring me now?" He drawled, his gruff, slow voice filling the silent room like trickling smoke.

You clenched your teeth, turning slowly but unprepared for how close he'd really be. You met his gaze and found yourself inches from him. Backing into the counter, you scoffed as the smirk you had seen last time once again grew on his face. You waited with your mouth agape, bewildered at his audacity.

"You are one hell of a character." You murmured, shaking your head. "Don't you got poor, old folk to loot? Or cattle to steal?"

He laughed, the sound tumbling out rough and raspy. "Yer a mean little girl, ain't ya?" He said, unable to hide the slight smile on his face. "Pretty, though. It's a shame."

You rolled your eyes, flush creeping up your face. You could smell a hint of some sort of musk behind his leathery scent. It smelt musty, and sweaty, like he had been working all day- But not necessarily bad. In fact you quite liked it. It was this raw, natural scent that smelt unique to him, yet familiar.

"D'ya want something?" You asked, sighing and easing against the wood. "I reckon you ain't here to get your skirt fixed like me." He backed off a little, arms coming to cross in front of his chest.

"You'd be right." He replied and exhaled. "I'm looking for a merchant. A horse seller."

You swallowed, face now bright red in sudden, awkward surprise- And fear.

Did my daddy have debts he never told me about?

Was the first thought that popped in your mind. He was low on money, and damn near desperate. It wouldn't shock you at all if he had done some dirty deals to keep your belly full in recent months.

"W-what for?" You managed to spit out, nearly choking on your own worry.

Arthur sighed, tugging his hat off his head and letting it hang by his side. He surprisingly had a thick head of messy, chestnut brown hair. And for a moment; he didn't seem all too terrible looking. Not by a mile.

"My Boadicea. She's been ill for some time. I heard there was a merchant down in Rhodes who could fix whatever she's got, so I came down here myself. Rode down on Magnolia over there." He mumbled, motioning his head over to the slender, black horse waiting on the grass out on the side of the shop.

You exhaled a sigh of relief so intense that it might've sounded like a whine.

"Well..." You started, heart still thumping in your chest. "That'd be my daddy. But I'm terribly sorry, he's on a trip and'll be gone for another week or two, at least."

Arthur shook his head.

"I ain't entirely sure she'll last that long." He said, voice softening. You felt your heart pang a little at the change in tone, yet his face still carried that same serious expression.

It faltered quickly though, and he shook his head, as if to say: What can be done?

The same way your daddy had before he left. And so you did what you hadn't been able to back then.

You stepped forward, hesitating for a moment before rubbing a consoling hand on his arm.

"I'm terribly sorry. I know how...hard it can be to look after horses. Finicky things."

His eyebrows furrowed subtly, but he remained unmoving, almost frozen.

"They steal our hearts and take em' when they go." You added somberly.

He looked at you, eyes squinting in mild confusion, and then within a second, they were turned away. He patted your hand with his, and you felt the floor heave and creak as he backed off.

"I oughta get goin' now. It's a long ride home and it's gettin' dark."

He mumbled, avoiding your gaze as he walked over to the door and tipped his hat in your direction.

"You take care now."

And at that, Arthur walked out of the shop, the tinkling little bells chiming as the screen door shut behind him.

𓃗𓃗𓃗𓃗

It took you a moment to react, but you did, nonetheless. Finding the unforeseen courage to move your feet and rush out of the shop, slamming open the door and shouting out to Arthur as he stood fixing the saddle of his horse.

"Sir! Wait, mister- Arthur!" You shouted out, watching as he turned head around, an eyebrow raised at your sudden appearance.

You stopped just a few feet in front of him, chest heaving and feet skidding against the grass.

"I'm sorry, I just-, I figured-" You stuttered, face flushed red at your abhorrent show of false confidence. The sun was setting, and a sudden warm breeze shot by you, sending whisps of your hair swirling, framing your face in the lantern light of the tailor shop.

Arthur looked at you, waiting. His face was as serious as ever, but as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, he had this strange expression you couldn't quite grasp. It looked almost pained. But a split second later, his face returned to its normal stoicism.

Your mouth hung open, unable to find the words you had thought would come easy.

"I-"

He shifted his feet, tilting his head a little. "C'mon now, girl. Spit it out." He said, voice serious and tired.

You flushed deeper, face growing hot at the vulnerability and embarrassment of the moment. For a second, you noticed the red-flush of his face, and wondered if he might've been just as shy as you; but then quickly realized it was just the red-warm tan that had been burnt into his cheeks and nose.

"There might be somethin' I can give you. I know a little about horses and- If you t-tell me what's goin' on. With Boadicea I mean- I could try and help."

He stared, face open and hopeful behind his regular expression. "You could stay at my father's home. I can pull out a cot, if you'd like." You murmured.

He tipped down his hat so it covered one eye in completion. The other peeked up at you through the leather with a strange look; as if he wasn't quite sure what your intentions were.

"Well... That's awfully kind."

You bit your lip, bracing for what he would say next. You weren't entirely sure what you were even proposing, yourself. Offering to rent your home out to a random man? A cowboy? Staying alone in the same house?

"If you wouldn't mind- I'd take you up on that." He added, shrugging slightly, before offering you a nod of the head as if to say: Thanks.

𓃗𓃗𓃗𓃗

You found yourself in a dreamlike state back at your home, wondering if any of this was even real. 5 feet in front of you, on your fathers sofa, was a cowboy; his holster placed on the footstool, and his hat hung against the coatrack. Here, in the dim lighting of your home fireplace, his face looked more worn than before, and much more visible up close and unhidden by his hat.

He had strong, sharp features, with a broad jaw and low set eyebrows. His lips were surprisingly full- yet chapped from the sunburn and tan that seemed to have had spread across his face. He had little creases in his skin where wrinkles lay, and peppers of grey near his hairline- But hardly any at all. His hair was full, dark brown, and you hated to admit it but, he was handsome. Very handsome.

"I don't supposed you got any spirits round here, ma'am?" He asked after a quick clear of the throat, his voice soft and languid as he settled into the couch. It was strange seeing someone so large and big sit in a place usually occupied by yourself- or your rather stout father.

"Oh, yes. Yes I think my daddy's got some whiskey somewhere." You said, sitting up from where you had taken a seat on the reading chair near the fireplace, and moving to the kitchen to file through the cabinets. Finding a bottle with a little Jim Beam left in it, you poured it in one of your father's crystal liquor glasses, and brought it over to Arthur, feeling suddenly and surprisingly shy.

"Here you go."

You placed the cup in his hands, feeling his calloused finger brush against yours for a moment, before you pulled away.

He sat upright, taking a long look at the glass, and then swigging it down in one gulp. He sighed, and then turn to look at you, as you stood watching in awkward silence.

"Grab some wood." He murmured, his voice gruff and low. He shifted over to leave you space on the sofa. "Unless you got somewhere to be, that is."

You shook your head, and lowered yourself on to the cushioning next to him, getting that same whiff of leather and wood, and now, with a top note of bourbon.

"So..." He started, gaze locked on the fireplace. "Tell me what you can do for my Boadicea."

You swallowed, unsure of what he wanted to hear.

"Well.... Tell me what's wrong with her."

He rubbed at his jaw, and you watched the way he scratched the little scruffs of stubble peppered along his chin.

"She ain't actin'... right." He started, eyes never meeting yours.

"Took her on a ride down to Annesburg and she's been walkin' strange ever since. Poor girl won't even eat. Used to go through three troughs a day, too."

You listened attentively, nodding, and watched as the flames flickered light across his face, shifting his expression from sad back to neutral, and then sad again. You wondered if it really was the flame, or maybe just him.

"Well...How's her dung lookin'?" You asked.

He turned to look at you, eyebrows slightly quirked in confusion. He looked like he thought it might've been a joke, but you waited with an open expression.

"Uhh, well I ain't exactly lookin' down there. But I guess normal. Maybe a little runny." He said, sounding rather shy.

You thought for a moment before speaking.

"Hm, and have you changed anythin' recently...with her? Gave her new food or drink, or maybe she tripped on that ride up to Annesberg?"

Arthur looked away, lost in thought. His brows furrowed, and you couldn't bring yourself to look away. He just looked so...stoic. His face looked chiseled in stone, set in its expression as he was lost in a thought he hadn't shared yet. You wondered what his memories looked like; Wild shootouts and sunset horse rides. Nights of drinking and brawls with gangs in little taverns.

The stories he must have...

You thought to yourself. It made your stomach flutter a little with excitement; the idea of someone so dangerous and experienced sitting on your couch; a live wolf, right in your living room.

He then cleared his throat, and turned back to you.

"Now...Now that I'm thinkin' 'bout it... I did give her some grain I found at down at this old barn. Ran out of her usual stuff and there were no shops nearby, but I figured it'd do."

You quirked an eyebrow, tilting your head in confusion. He watched your expression and continued, explaining.

"I just found it in an ol' trough. Boadicea's a tough girl. Figured it'd hold her over. Might notta been the best decision now that I'm seein' that look on yer face, though."

He continued to rub his jaw, avoiding your gaze; brows still locked in a look of seriousness. There was something about him that looked so boyish then, worrying about his horse in front of the blazing fire light. You wondered if he had always made that face when he was worried, even as a kid- Or if it was something he had picked up from a life of struggle.

Instinctively, you reached a hand out and rubbed his arm, just like you had at the shop. You figured he'd pull away, but he didn't. He just stayed frozen, eyes and mind elsewhere.

"If you're right in telling me that, she's still...um...fertilizing..." You began, your fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on the warmth of his skin, pads grazing the hairs along his forearm.

"Then it was likely that. Nothin' serious. She'll work it out of her system, a-and I can even give you some of my daddy's special herb blend. Helps them digest and clear things out faster."

Arthur looked up at you, eyes locked on yours. He seemed to search your face for a sign of some sort of trick or malice, but you showed only honest, hopefulness. You smiled weakly, and suddenly his eyes dropped, brows furrowed once more, and he exhaled slowly.

Picking up your hand off his arm, he held it in his, practically engulfing it inside his palm. He patted the top of it awkwardly, and lifted it back over to your lap.

He cleared his throat, and began to speak, mouth moving before he could form the words. When he spoke, his voice was rough, but soft, and low. Careful.

"Now, I appreciate that more than I can say..." He started, gaze locked on his lap. "But I can't do- I... I can't do that, darlin'."

You shook your head, hair falling in your face as you looked at your hands, embarrassed. He must've noticed because after a few moments of silence, he spoke.

"Wh- Woah. Hey now, don't do that." He mumbled, tucking hair behind your ear gently, his rough hand coming up and grazing the side of your face as he did.

"You're a mighty clever little girl, you're helpin' me out and I thank you very much." He rambled on, slowly and awkwardly- Clearly not used to this sort of thing.

"...And, I- I'd be lyin' if I said I weren't tempted..."

Your face flushed pink as you peaked up at him from behind your lashes. He was looking at you now, tense and careful, as if you were an animal that might run away.

You turned towards him, waiting for him to continue, biting a little at your bottom lip. "But I'm too old, and too worn, to be... to be messin' with pretty little things such as yourself."

You swallowed hard, nodding. Your face was flushed a deep shade of red, and you couldn't help but fiddle with your hands, embarrassed by the soft rejection. "I didn't mean-" You shrugged, mumbling. "I'm sorry. That was wrong, I just- You care so deeply for your horse. It's beautiful."

He sighed deeply, letting his head loll against the back of the sofa. He looked at your for a moment before turning back to the fireplace.

"She's my oldest horse." He said, simply. You couldn't see his full face but you could hear an edge in his voice, something you hadn't before. "I ain't one to...feel things, deeply. But lord know's that horse has been with me to hell and back."

You nodded, not wanting to break him out of whatever reminiscent trance he was in. He shifted back to where he sat before, face in view of yours, unintentionally closer now.

"I don't got a lot of folk in my life. Bo's all I got. All I deserve, in a lot of ways. And even that, I ain't too sure about." He whispered, his voice slow and sad, for the first time all night.

Slowly and suddenly, you turned to him, wanting to reach out again but not having the bravery to this time.

"That...must be lonely. Do you not have anyone?"

He didn't reply, just exhaled softly and looked into the firepit, which was now crackling down to a soft ember.

"Ain't in the works for me." He simply said after some time.

Moments passed in silence, letting the weight of what he said sit in the air between you until it become unbearable, and you found yourself turning to him, staring at him, unashamed.

You waited, just looking, until you finally spoke, softly.

"I know how it feels. To be alone."

He didn't reply, he didn't even move. You continued to speak.

"...To be ignored and tossed aside...seen as strange or, bad..."

You took a deep breath, watching him attentively.

"...Makes you hope for other lonely people. To find- people who understand you. People who can make you feel normal. Even... Even if only for a night."

You stuttered, face pink and hot, either from the fire or the vulnerability of the moment.

Something in Arthur seemed to change, and he slowly turned around to look at you- really look at you.

"You're relentless, ain't you." He mumbled, closer to you now.

You managed to smile, weak and soft. He did the same, but shortly returned to his stern expression. You found yourself reaching for his arm again, and he didn't move, nor turn away. He kept watching you, softly this time.

"We shouldn't do this." He murmured, languidly. "What would yer daddy think?"

"I'm a grown woman, and my daddy ain't here." You said, shaking your head. "I... I want to feel understood, just for a night..." You whispered.

He shook his head, eyes pressed together in frustration, closer to you now. He stayed like this for a few minutes, internally fighting something you weren't aware of. Suddenly, after time had passed in silence, he spoke.

"Christ." He simply said, and then quietly and slowly, he kissed you, closing the gap between you two and pressing his lips to yours.

It was soft and slow, so slow that everything seemed to be drawn out for ages. The kissing, the smell of his breathe- the slow, lazy intrusion of his tongue- the taste of bourbon in your mouth. It melted your senses into a puddle of just him. Just the rough feeling of his calloused hands on your arms, his fingers running through your hair and holding you by the back of your head, turning you to putty in your hands. All so, so slowly.

You found yourself growing desperate, needing him to fill all the gaps between your bodies. You pressed your chest against his and he laughed against your mouth, teeth grazing your lips.

"Easy, girl." He murmured, before laying you against the cushioned sofa and kissing down your chin, thumb grazing your jaw while his hand stayed wrapped around the back of your neck, holding you up. His stubble tickled your neck, and your head threw itself back in reaction. You felt him exhale into your neck- You guessed he had liked that.

His actions were never rushed, only ever soft and drawn out, as if he was pacing himself, or trying to make a temporary thing last. You supposed it was the ladder, and felt your heart pang for an instant, but quickly melt back into it's rhythm of flutters as he kissed down to your neck, sucking softly at the skin. He licked at the sensitive spot right near your throat, springing goosebumps onto your skin. In reaction, you slid your fingers into his hair, gripping tightly and letting out the quietest of noises.

Your eyes were shut but you could feel his teeth graze your bottom lip once more; either because he was getting more desperate now, or because he was smiling at your reactions. You weren't entirely sure which it was. Either way you let him do whatever he pleased. You trusted that whatever he did do, would be pleasurable. With him, it had to be.

"What would yer daddy think?"

He murmured, slow and gruff in your ear as his large hand snaked its way down your stomach. His fingers ruffled the fabric of your top until he reached where your skirt met the hem of your shirt. You gasped at his words, and then bit your lip as said gasp quickly turned into a hiss once you felt his calloused thumb dipping under your skirt's waistline, and rubbing circles on the skin of your hip.

"I need you." You managed to let out, and it was honest. It wasn't just dirty talk this time; you had become completely limp for him, and felt as any ounce of bravery or independence you had used in order to initiate, began to completely drain from you.

He only kissed you deeper in response, stoic as usual, hand snaking further down until he toyed with the band of your panties, eyes dazed in a look of concentration, watching you yet simultaneously zoned out, focused on the movement of his fingers.

When he finally moved further down, you felt as a single digit slid between your folds, running up and down the slit. He made a slight hissing sound, and you peeked up to catch his expression.

I wonder if he can feel how wet I am?

Seeing the raise of his eyebrows and how his lips were lightly parted, you realized how stupid of a question that had been.

"Christ almighty."

He groaned, voice low and weak. He circled your entrance with the same digit, his lips still parted in concentration as he studied your expression, watching as your mouth fell open and snapped shut at his movements.

You couldn't help but let out small mewls, and as he slid a finger in, you whined so loud that the faintest smirk appeared at the corner of his lip. You could only shake your head; it was the most sarcasm you could physically provide while his fingers fucked in and out of you. "No sassy remarks?" He breathed, sliding another finger in and grunting a little as he felt you flutter around the new stretch. God his hands were huge, and you grabbed at his forearm, feeling his veins strain as he flexed his fingers, curling them inside of you.

"Go to hell." You moaned, and he shook his head, smiling slightly. His petty response was to withdraw his fingers altogether, making you cry out at the feeling of being empty. His head began to move down your chest and you gripped his hair, desperate to keep him with you.

"Shhh. This'll feel even better." He whispered, kissing down your neck while his fingers came up to unbutton your top. As he fidgeted with the buttons, you writhed underneath him, eager and antsy.

"My, yer impatient." He breathed.

Once your shirt was open, he began to kiss and lick soft stripes down your chest, sucking at the sensitive skin of your breasts. You moaned in response; a mix of both pleasure at the feeling of his mouth, and neediness to feel full again. He quickly appeased your inner thoughts, kissing further down your stomach, slow and careful, until he reached the hem of your skirt. Looking up at you through his eyebrows, his face was still neutral as ever, but he waited for you to respond. You nodded, front teeth digging into the fat of your bottom lip.

He didn't speak, only slid your skirt off your hips, focused on being careful and slow. You raised yourself up in response to make it easier for him, and once they were off, he placed a large hand on your stomach, and laid you back down. Once you were left laying there only in your opened top, you felt him lower himself down and begin to kiss near your core, hand placed on your knee as he moved down your thigh, licking and sucking at the skin, clearly drawing this out.

"Please." You managed to let out, voice cracking.

Your words did not affect him, and you honestly thought he might've been going slower now. It drove you crazy. You dug your hands into the sofa cushion behind you, gripping onto it for some sort of aid.

When he finally got between your thighs, he shocked you, making your hips jolt as he licked a slow, careful strip up your slit. You felt him groan into your pussy at the taste, and you couldn't help but moan in reply, your hands immediately moving to his hair once more- Fingers slithering into his hair and pulling as he continued to softly lick.

"Fuckin' hell." He murmured between your thighs before sucking and licking more desperately now. You moaned helplessly, shuddering at the feeling of his jaw and stubble pressing into your inner thigh as his tongue worked at you.

You had felt yourself getting close, your mouth making sounds you never knew it could make. Suddenly and terribly, he stopped his licking, lifting his head and wiping his glistening mouth on the back of his hand, panting.

He crawled back over you, unbuttoning his top and pulling it over his head, as one arm laid you back on the cushioning of the soda. Once his shirt was off, your hands came up to roam over his chest, feeling the hair and scars that coated his chest and toned stomach.

Another hand came down to unbuckle his belt, and you let your eyes fall shut as you listened to the clinking of his slacks coming off. You felt his fingers come back down to collect wetness and spread it throughout your lips, before you felt a larger intrusion. Looking down, your gaze met his cock, large and achingly hard. It made you smile a little; knowing that Arthur, who could barely even offer you a smile, was so incredibly hard, that he was leaking.

You arched your back as he slid in, letting out a gasp at the stretch, feeling on fire as he entered you. He breathed out through his nose, forearms straining around your head as he held himself up over you.

"This okay?" He asked, sincerely. You could only nod, finding no words.

He slid further in, and then slowly pulled back out, making you gasp again. His movements were achingly slow at first, and you could only watch his face as yours contorted, hating his restraint. Your hands came up to wrap around his shoulders, and you felt him twitch inside you.

"Y-you like that?" You asked, surprised at the reaction you felt.

He only averted your eyes for a second, jaw clenched in concentration. You realized, he was shy.

In response, you pulled him closer to you, hands roaming over his back and the muscles that strained as he moved. You felt him groan loudly, pace picking up as he fucked into you faster now. "You're so strong, Arthur." You moaned, fingers tracing the muscles of his shoulder blades.

He let out his first actual almost-moan at this, picking up speed even more; the sounds of him pistoning into you becoming borderline pornographic.

You moaned, fingernails digging into his shoulders and neck as he rocked you into the couch, panting in your ear. His cock bullied at that sensitive spot inside of you, making your stomach clench every time he bottomed out. You whined, breathing hard, chest heaving and hands grabbing at him.

" 'That feel good ? " He breathed. "Pretty thing. What would people think of you if they saw you like this." He panted, voice hissing in effort, talking more than you've ever heard. A hand came down to rub soft circles on your clit as he thrusted, and you fell apart.

You came hard, thighs shutting tight around him and fingers scraping down his back until they came up to his neck, grabbing at his hair. You moaned his name, loud, and felt as his hips stuttered, and he bottomed out once more, filling you up and whining a little as he did, resolve completely gone.

You panted, feeling his pace slow down as he fucked into you a few more times, watching as he spilled out of you slowly. He languidly pulled out with a pop, still holding himself above you. Bending down he kissed your forehead, and then softly, kissed your mouth, only for a second, though.

Rolling over, he curved his body around you, doing his best to fit next to you on the couch and wrap his arms around your waist as you felt your eyes flutter shut.

You fell asleep with the smell of leather and sandalwood wafting in from behind you, and him seeping out from between your thighs.

𓃗𓃗𓃗𓃗

When you woke up, it was bright, bitter morning. The sun was in it's full glory, and you were awakened by it's light blinding you from the kitchen window.

When you woke up, you woke up alone.

It took you a moment to realize what had happened, and where you had left off before falling asleep, but when you had, your heart sank as you realized he was gone. You slowly sat up, still naked and shivering slightly from the early-morning chill. Looking around, you found no trace of him. No cowboy hat left behind, no coat left on the rack, not even a cigarette left on the ashtray. Even his empty cup of liquor had been put away.

Getting up, the floor creaked as you stepped through the empty house, everything feeling much more silent in his absence.

Walking to the kitchen, you noticed that the bottle of herb mix you had left out the night before had been taken, and in the middle of the oak table, laid a note. You fingers trembled a little as you held it; whether it was from nervousness or the cold- You weren't entirely sure.

Opening it slowly, you began to read.

I wasn't supposed to do what we did last night.

Especially not with someone like you.

Call me a bad man, but I don't entirely regret it.

Take care of yourself, little miss. And take care of that daddy of yours, too.

All the best,

Arthur

You smiled at his words, part of you wishing it was more sentimental, but a stronger part of you knowing that for Arthur, that might as well have been a love confession.

You tucked the paper in your pocket, and decided to get dressed to go and check on the stable.

You were sure that some old quack must've seen Arthur enter your home last night, or maybe an old church lady had noticed a Cowboy's horse waiting out in your stable. But you didn't care.

Rhodes would talk, you knew it was bound to happen. For the first time in your life, you didn't really care. It didn't matter if they didn't understand you, it didn't matter at all.

Because for one night, you had been understood.

Walking over to your stable, you stared at the empty stall where Magnolia had spent the night, before Arthur collected her in the early wake of the morning, while you tossed in your sleep.

Looking at your other horses, you found a strange confidence in your solitude that you hadn't before.

You decided that you'd go for a ride today.

It didn't matter if you weren't a real horse merchant, or a business man, or anything Rhode's thought you should be- or that you were just a girl.

A cowboy had understood you.

For you, that would be enough.

𓃗𓃗𓃗𓃗

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