Non-writers don't understand how much of writing is just googling things like "when was the croissant invented" for worldbuilding reasons and staring off into the distance.
Before meeting you, Arthur didnāt really do much aftercare. Sure, heād make sure his partner had a drink, maybe heād kiss their head and help them get comfortable but thatād be about it. He didnāt really know what else to do.
With you though, he helps you sit up and passes you some water. Heāll kiss you all over and murmur sweet declarations of love as you both calm down. He makes sure to help you get redressed if you need to leave but if you donāt, then heāll tuck you in and throw his arms around you. Heāll hold you in that loving embrace until you fall asleep, and then he slowly strokes your face and muses to himself how the hell he got so lucky with you.
B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partnerās)
For him, he really loves his eyes. Theyāre the only feature of his motherās that he has as he otherwise looks almost exactly like his father. Sometimes, when heās half asleep he sees his eyes in the mirror and swears that he can see his motherās kind and loving expression looking back at him.Ā
Other than that, Arthurās really self-conscious and doesnāt like the way he looks. He looks too much like his miserable father for him to feel as though heās attractive.
You, on the other hand, he adores. He can hardly pick just one part of you to be his favourite. He loves it all.Ā
Your smile, which never fails to make him feel better no matter what. Your hair, so beautiful and sometimes catches in the light which gives you an ethereal glow. Your frame, so much smaller than his own and makes him feel like heās holding the most precious thing in the world when he hugs you.
If you were to ask him what his favourite part of you was, heād give you a cheeky grin and say, āYour tits.ā But if he was being entirely honest with himself, heād say your hands. So soft against his own rough, calloused ones. So clean of sin, unlike his own. He loves holding your hand, despite feeling like he darenāt touch something so pure.
And the way your smaller hands grasp his dick is also a bonus.
C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)
After what happened with Eliza, he doesnāt feel entirely comfortable cumming inside of you. He doesnāt want to burden you with a child and then lose you like he did with Eliza and Isaac. He prefers to pull out and come all over your tits or stomach.Ā
He doesnāt expect it but if youāre giving him head and you swallow, he groans tightly and his eyes roll into the back of his head. He loves it.
One day, maybe, if the two of you ever got married, heād love to come inside you and maybe even get you pregnant. Seeing you all round and soft with his child would make him all warm and fuzzy inside.
D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
He once drew a nude picture of you. You fell asleep after he fucked you and you just looked so gorgeous that he couldnāt help himself. He kept it secret for a long time but felt guilty that he did it without your knowledge.
Eventually, he confessed to you and showed you the picture. You found it hot though and like to thumb through his journal sometimes to see the other pictures heās drawn of you since.
E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what theyāre doing?)
In his youth, he was a wild stallion. Heād go from girl to girl and he always made sure they had a good night. He slowed down after Mary and all but stopped after Eliza. Since meeting you, his spark has been reignited and heās happy to spend all night with you.
He was a bit rusty the first time you lay together but after a couple tries, his muscle memory kicked in and he leaves you thoroughly satisfied each time.
F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)
A bit boring but he loves missionary. He loves to look in your eyes as he fucks you and loves watching as your face contorts with pleasure and you can hardly keep your little squeaks and moans to yourself. Heās a big man and he likes the way he envelops you and seems to crush you under his size.Ā
If itās just a one-night stand however, then he likes taking you from behind. He doesnāt want someone seeing him so vulnerable so prefers you to face away from him.
G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)
He likes to keep it on the more serious side but, when pushed, he will crack a joke or two. Or heāll tease you.
āYeah, you aināt got much to say now, do ya girl?ā
āFucked that attitude right outta ya, huh?ā
āHuh. Lookit that. You can act nice when you wanna.ā
H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)
Well heās an outlaw soā¦
Saying that, he does like to keep well-groomed at times. Heāll trim his hair so that it wonāt get in the way but he always leaves his happy trail as he knows how much you love it.Ā
I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspectā¦)
Being in the gang, you donāt have too much time for romantic sex and honestly, youāre both fine with that. Occasionally if youāre alone, on a mission or either of you are feeling rather needy then the tone will be more romantic and passionate but normally, you two are just trying to get off. You save the romance for out of the bedroom.
J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)
He never really does anything by himself. Itās only if heās away from you for a long time that he might give in. Or, sometimes, if heās feeling really cruel, heāll touch himself in front of you and listen to you whine as you beg to be the one touching him but he more often than not wonāt give in.
K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)
He loves love loves overstimulation. He loves how he makes you come over and over again until your brain is fucked-out, your bones are like jelly and you can barely think let alone speak.
His other kinks include orgasm control/edging [much to your chagrin], light choking, spanking, having to keep quiet when youāre in camp and, honestly, he has a bit of a breeding kink.
L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)
He loves any place where the two of you can have some time to yourself but his favourite is strangely on his cot in his tent. He loves how the two of you barely fit on his tiny bed, having to keep you quiet so that no one hears the two of you. It really gets him going.
M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)
You in general turns him on. Specifically though, he gets so turned on when youāre doing laundry. Ass up, bent over so he can see down your shirt, sweaty and looking like his pretty little wife doing the household chores.Ā
If you ever really wanna get him going, then you grab the collar of his shirt, pull him down to your level and whisper something dirty in his ear and heās on his knees in a second.
N = NO (Something they wouldnāt do, turn offs)
Nothing to do with blood or hitting. He doesnāt want to hurt you. He might spank you every so often but it isnāt too hard and the handprint that he leaves will fade in a couple of days.
O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)
He is a god at giving head. He knows exactly what makes you tick and he exploits the shit out of it. He prefers to give head but if you ask sweetly enough then heāll let you suck him off.Ā
P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)
It depends on the kind of day heās had. If itās been a relatively good day, a job went well or the two of you went out on a date then heās very soft but he always prefers to go fast. If heās punishing you, then heāll go slower because he loves the way you whine when he does. If heās had a bad day, and theyāre getting more regular since Micah joined, then heās very fast and very rough but you donāt mind at all. If heās punishing you when heās had a bad day then he mixes it up, heāll go really fast until youāre near your peak then he stops and goes as slow as possible.
Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)
Arthur does quite like quickies. He much prefers to undress you fully and take his time but sometimes, he needs a quick fuck in-between missions.Ā
R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)
Heās happy to try new things and will give them his all but he often doesnāt like them enough to do it often. He prefers to stick to what he knows. However, he does like taking the risk of fucking you when others are around. He just loves watching you try to keep quiet despite how good heās fucking you.
S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they lastā¦)
Arthurās an older man now. He can only go for one round for himself and heās absolutely exhausted afterwards, but that one round can last for ages. Trust me. Ages. For you though, he spends quite a while pleasuring you several times before he takes his own pleasure.
T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)
Itās the 1800s. I donāt think there are many, if any toys. However, modern!arthur would love to use toys on you. Heād quite like to use a vibrator and see how long you can go before you need to tap out.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Man, he is downright cruel at times. He will edge you for ages and then teases you for begging. Heāll punish you for being a little bratty and heāll shove his fingers down your throat when youāre being too loud, or heāll stop what heās doing. You love it though.
V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)
Heās honestly not too loud. When sober, he might let out a few groans and whisper dirty things in your ear. But when drunk, he is groaning, whining and, though heāll deny it, he whimpers when heās close. Heās insecure about making noise in bed but if you ask him to be a bit louder then heāll do his best to make more noise but he still keeps it rather quiet.
W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)
Heās got an engagement ring in his satchel. Heās still working up the courage to ask you but heās almost there.
X = X-Ray (Letās see whatās going on in those pants, picture or words)
Despite his large frame, he isnāt actually all that big. Heās just under six inches but he is thick. Thereās a large vein that runs up the side and is so sensitive. If you ever wanna make him go weak in the knees, then run your finger along that vein.
Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)
Nowhere near as high as it was in his twenties. Itās around average now, maybe a couple times a week but when he gets going, he gets going.
Z = ZZZ (ā¦ how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
He conks out like ten minutes after he comes. Heās an older man now so you donāt mind. He always sleeps so deeply afterwards, with his mouth open and snoring like a deaf elephant <3
summary : you keep Arthur company during his watch duty.
pairing : arthur morgan x f!reader
rating : mature (mdni)
tags : fluff, kissing, spoilers of the side mission He's British Of Course. Reader isnāt described, she just wears a dress. pics from Pinterest, Arthurās pic is mine.
Title inspired from a line in Hot Together by The Pointer Sisters.
word count : 3k
a/n : the biggest thanks to @thedilfdiaries for your support, I love you, always š, to @sawymredfox for your encouragement and kindness, love you lots ā¤ļø, and to @dilf-luvr-4evr for inspiring me this and being so not enthusiastic at all, I dedicate it to you honey š«¶š¼.
English isnāt my first language, sorry for the grammar mistakes. I hope you will enjoy this little fic. (Dividers by @/thecutestgrotto)
Sitting on the dusty floor, back resting against a trunk, Arthur takes out a cigarette, the red edge glowing in the dark as he slowly retreats the match from the stick, shaking his right hand in the air to kill the growing flame.
Heās starting to get a little sore, his left leg especially, has been extended for too long now. But he wonāt move, not wanting to wake you up, afraid to tear you out of the peaceful cocoon you sewed around the two of you since you joined him on the edge of camp earlier.
He wasnāt expecting it, you showed up when the sun started to disappear from the sky, you kindly offered him the plate of stew secured in your hands, your voice shyly asking if you could keep him company. You usually didnāt want to disturb him, knowing Arthur well enough by now to have noticed that he enjoyed his solitude.
But it felt different tonight. He looked lonely. And you felt lonely too. You thought that for once you could be lonely together.Ā
You talked for a while, feeling comfortable enough to fill the silence by telling him the events of the last few days, the moments he missed while being away chasing Dutchās pipe dreams, watching him eat and nod, asking questions every now and then, the shadow of a smile timidly raising on his face as your stories began to sound more and more like camp life gossips. You werenāt surprised when Arthur interrupted his meal to add his own observations, it amused you. Especially when you both realized you witnessed the same bickering scene unfurling between John and Abigail a couple of weeks ago. He didnāt get to watch the second part of their fight though, so you eagerly described it to him, not without adding a couple of remarks that came from a place of genuine concern. Abigail is your friend, and you care about her and little Jack, just like Arthur. And seeing the way John was acting broke your heart sometimes.Ā
āI know John is a stubborn man butā¦ I thought thatā¦maybe you couldā¦ā you started, observing Arthurās reaction to your wordsā¦He already knew where this was heading.Ā
āDid Abigail send you to ask me this?ā he questioned, trying his best to hide his annoyance.Ā
āI wonāt say we havenāt talked about it Arthur butā¦she doesnāt want to create anyā¦quarrel between you and Johnā¦ sheās also too proud to ask for your help andā¦ā you explained hastily, worried of having offended him for some reason.
āBut you aināt?ā Arthur interrupted you, eyes squinted in your direction, trying to decipher your expression.Ā
āI ainātā¦?ā you asked, having lost the thread of your conversation, lost in the intensity of his stare.Ā
āToo proud to ask for my help?āĀ
āI guess ā¦ I guess it depends on what kind of help I am asking for. This is different, this is not for me. This is for them, and for Jack. I know you care about that kid Arthur.āĀ Ā Ā
He sighed, nodding your way, and saw the worry leaving your features almost instantly. You were rightā¦ He could talk to John for the tenth time. He doubted his words would change a single thing, but he could try, to put your and Abigailās hearts at peace.Ā
āSure. Iāll try to talk to him againā¦Maybe heāll listen this timeā Arthur said, watching you stirring the embers with a branch, the wooden stick slowly disappearing in the fire.Ā
āThank you Arthur.ā you whispered in a smile, before standing up to sit a little closer to him.Ā Ā
What you loved the most was listening to Arthur recalling some of his adventures. It was rare for him to share the tales of his days and nights out of camp, but you learned how to trick him into sharing some pieces of his journey with you. Arthur always thinks that the things he does aren't worth telling the others, that he hasnāt got anything interesting to say. Thatās why he keeps most of his words to fill up the blank pages of his journal.Ā
He was genuinely surprised the first time you started asking him questions about what he was doing out of town, with a natural curiosity but enough awareness to always be careful not to overstep.
You know Arthurās job aināt exactly conventional. You know the violence he faces and the one he inflicts since heās been born in this wild world, you know how much it affects him too, youāve seen it darkening his eyes, and weighing on his heart.Ā
He even confessed it to you, one night, the two of you seated around the fire, just like tonight, the moon high in the sky, the yapping of the foxes piercing the stillness of the woods, the bottle of whiskey you shared almost empty, resting between your legs. He hasnāt brought it up since, and neither did you, too scared to remind him of the vulnerability he showed that night, without even intending to. You swore to the moon that night that you will keep his secrets. That you will offer him a shoulder to rely on whenever he will feel the need to share his burden. When you joined your empty cot that night, you realized that these promises you made would probably always stay locked inside your heart.Ā
They crossed your mind again, these promises you inwardly made to him as you listened to Arthurās lively tale of his latest adventure: something to do with a fake Zebra and a real lion, a female tamer that was, in reality, a man. You couldnāt stop laughing when he confessed he doubted the emerald he got from that Margaret guy as a payment for his hard work was a real one. But as he continued his tale, you got distracted by the way Arthurās blue eyes were glowing in the dark, his traits getting smoother, his stance much more relaxed than when you showed up earlier. You felt some kind of pride growing in your chest at the idea that you had something to do with this.Ā
The silence suddenly engulfed the two of you, your laughs carried away by the wind,Ā and you started fidgeting with the edge of your shawl, nervously realizing what was happening now. Arthur was going to push you away, like he always does when youāre trying to get a little closer, to take a peek at the man behind the iron cage protecting his heart.Ā
āYou donāt have to stay here with me all night you knowā he started, glancing at the camp behind him.
You were about to protest, but his voice cut the silence again.Ā
āYou should probably get some sleepā¦ā
You were determined not to let him win this time. You always knew it would take a lot to have him to stop pushing you away. And tonight, for the first time since you met him, you felt like you were on the right path.Ā
āItās not even nighttime Arthur, and I am not tiredāĀ
āRightā¦ Maybe for now but you soon will be after dealing with a fool like meāĀ
āMaybeā you replied cheekily. āBut I aināt tired of you just yet.ā You felt the rhythm of your heart accelerating, afraid to reveal too much of what you think of him.Ā
Arthur tilted his head down and slowly said your name.Ā
āI know Miss Grimshaw has you in her sightsā¦ Itās not safe to risk incurring her wrath by staying up too lateā he mumbled while finishing his plate, his hat low on his head as he avoided your gaze. A warning, a last attempt at making you go away.Ā Ā
But you didnāt want to leave; you didnāt want to go back to your empty tent, far away from the warmth of the fire and the man that you adore. Carefully, you redirected the subject on the old hag.Ā
āOh so you noticed that too? I have no idea why she keeps being angry with me these daysā¦ā Itās your turn to look pensively behind Arthur, your eyes focusing on the camp where you noticed Miss Grimshaw walking to her tent.Ā Ā
āItās hard not to, the woman is asking everybody where you are all day longā¦ Maybe you should stop hiding from herā¦ā Arthur said, smiling.Ā
āI am not hiding from her!ā you exclaimed, standing up from the ground, smoothing down the skirts of your dress.Ā
āYou sure ainātā¦ā he teased, peering at you as you walked around the fire to stretch your legs.
āI promise I am not Arthurā you turned around to face him, holding his gaze.Ā
āWhat are you doing here if you're not hiding from her then?ā Arthur asked, placing his plate on a patch of grass to his left, eyes never leaving yours.Ā
You left his question hanging for a moment, pondering if you should say out loud what your heart has been dying to tell him during the whole time he was away.Ā
It made him nervous, the look you had, the way you were slowly walking in his direction. You stopped right in front of him, observing the way he was suddenly trying to focus on anything but your stilling silhouette, eyes staring at the drawing of your shadow in the red dust.Ā Ā
āI just wanted to be with youā you blurted out, the words escaping your lips with so much sincerity and tenderness that it made Arthur blush hard. He looked at you this time, the answer you gave him so surprising he had to see for himself if you were telling the truth. And of course you were.Ā
āOkay thenā he answered, clearing his throat to hide the tension coursing through his body at the prospect of having you sitting so close to him. He moved slightly to make room for you, and you smiled as he watched you sitting by his side, your back resting next to his against the old trunk, almost in disbelief that you chose to stay with him instead of joining the others in their drunken mischief, instead of marvelling to Javierā serenades, instead of running away from the melancholia that surrounds him like a cloud that wonāt ever vanish, that will tarnish the clear sky of anyone who will dare stand by his side.Ā
āNot tiredā Arthur mutters with a smile on his face, glancing at your sleeping form, your head resting on his shoulder. Cigarette stuck between his lips, one arm resting on his bent knee, the other laying on the trunk behind your back, the tip of his fingers caress the fabric of your dress as he tilts his head towards the sky, and lets out a deep sigh. Arthur isnāt supposed to do watch duties, but with Lenny being injured, he decided to cover for him. And now heās very grateful for this.Ā
Itās been quiet tonight, and most of the gang members are already in the comfort of their tent, trying to get some sleep.Ā
Itās been a rough couple of weeks, having to get used to this new life in Lemoyne is harder than anyone would have thought. And not only because of the weather. This sad old country is still living in the past, and the people are far from being nice to strangers. Arthur had to stop himself from shooting a bunch of drunkards shouting that he wasnāt welcomed to stay here.
But the goal wasnāt to stay here. It was temporary, just the time to wait for the mess with the Pinkerton to settle down, just the time to make enough money to go west. This has always been Dutchās plan. But there are days where this purpose seems to be getting further away from the gangās reach. And today was one of themā¦
āWe need to have a little faith Arthurā you whispered to him, right before you fell asleep, your eyes never leaving the dancing flames of the fire keeping you both warm as you pressed yourself closer to his side. Arthur scoffed, searching for something smart to retort. All thoughts became blurry in his mind as soon as you pressed your cheek against his arm, your hand curling around his bicep. A comforting gesture, to let him know wordlessly how you felt. Arthurās arm found your waist, pressing you closer to him, a way to let you know that he was reading right through your incapacity to meet his gaze for a second while you tried your best to sound convincing : you were starting to doubt too. But at least you werenāt alone.Ā Ā
Tipping his head down to look at your face illuminated by the pale moonlight, Arthur struggles to find the reason why he was granted such a gift tonight. He admires the long lashes adorning your closed eyes, the softness of your skin, the peacefulness emanating from you,Ā your breath coming out in short exhale, your body slowly relaxing against his, your head having found a place on his shoulder. Tonight it feels like you have always belonged here, by his side.
He focuses on your mouth for a couple of seconds, the plushness of your lips, the curve of the faintest smile painted on your face. He wonders what youāre dreaming about. If he was the one asleep right now he would certainly be dreaming about kissing youā¦ He shrugs at his foolishness. How can he still be so naive when it comes to the matters of the heart?Ā
The sudden movements stir you awake, Arthur suddenly disappointed that he woke you up.
āSorry darlinā I didnāt mean to wake youā he apologizes, clumsily trying to get back to his original position.
āNo I am sorry Arthur I didnāt notice I was falling asleepā¦āĀ you yawn, as you part from his shoulder, ignoring his attempt to keep you close, moving your body slightly so youāre almost facing him now.Ā
āItās alrightāĀ
Arthurās eyes fall upon your face, and you hold his gaze, trying your best to ignore the fluttering feeling in your chest as you notice the way he looks at you, the way his eyes flicks to your lips subtly, the slight blush on his cheeks, the faded scars on his chin, the golden glint in his hair, accentuated by the glow of the fire. He is beautiful, and without even noticing, your body is leaning on his again.Ā
Arthur is afraid to make the wrong move now, but he can sense youāre very much aware of the way his right arm is now resting behind your head, his fingers playing with the strands of hair falling down your shoulder.Ā
Itās making you dizzy, the realization of your close proximity. You donāt want to break the charm. Youāre scared to rush him, even though you crave to feel his lips on your skin now.
So you donāt move, you canāt move, not when heās looking at you like that, not when you can feel him slowly inclining his face down, the hand playing with your hair stilling its movements, before you feel the pad of his fingers caressing the back of your neck.Ā
āArthurā¦ā you let out, unable to stay silent when all you want is for him to kiss you. He doesnāt answer, his hand gently griping the back of your head, and you let him angle you perfectly, losing yourself in the shimmering blue of his eyes.
He whispers your name, asking for permission. His rough hand cups the side of your face as you give him a shy nod, his thumb brushing the skin of your cheekbone. His lips havenāt touched yours yet and youāre already out of breath.
But Arthur doesnāt move, counting the pulsations of your hearts, contemplating your beauty in this sacred moment, memorizing it and keeping it preciously so it can last forever in his heart. He is waiting for the perfect time to kiss you.
A second later, his lips finally find yours. A timid kiss, one you felt silly for dreaming about mere moments ago, one you return with fervor, your mouth moving against his more intently, the hairs of his beard brushing against your skin.
You throw your arms around his neck as you kiss him again, forcing Arthur to lay back against the trunk, his hat falling off his head in the abruptness of the movement.Ā
āCareful darlingā he jokes, passing one of his hand through his hair as he blindly pats the floor in search of his hat with the other. He picks it up and places it carefully on top of your head, gently pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.Ā
You both take a second to catch your breath, suddenly conscious of the way youāre straddling him, your upper body pressed on his chest, your knees resting on each side of his thighs, the skirts of your dress pooling around his waist. You quickly look for any sign of regret in his eyes, but they only reflect the same longing and adoration that you know he can probably see in yours.
The way he watches you silences the thoughts that were beginning to cloud your mind. You're just two souls dancing in the quiet of the moonlight, to the sound of the fire crackling behind you.Ā
āYouāre beautifulā he whispers before laying back against the trunk.Ā
āShut up Arthurā you giggle, smacking his chest playfully.Ā
āItās true. I reckon my hat looks better on youā
āOh yeah?ā you reply, turning your head to the side, mimicking the way he usually tips his hat to greet people.Ā Ā
āStop thatā Arthur smirks, recognizing himself instantly. His hand flies to your head quickly, trying to take it back. But you dodge it, hands pushing on his chest to lean away.Ā Ā
āCan I keep it then?ā
āNah.ā
You pout and bat your eyelashes at him, doing your best to convince him. But the outlaw won't budge.
āI think it looks better on you anywayā. You murmur in his ear as you put the hat back on his head.Ā
āCome hereā Arthurās hand finds your neck before you can move away from him, closing the gap to kiss you again. Your heart skips a beat when you feel the tip of his tongue licking the seam of your lips. You welcome him inside of your mouth, moaning at the way he slowly deepens the kiss. The feeling of your hearts beating against each other the only thing you care about right now.
a/n: thanks a lot for reading, comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3
Love a good faceriding session that turns into 69, because you couldn't stay upright with how he's going at it.
When you're propping yourself up on his stomach and his cock is right in front of you, painfully hard and already leaking pre-cum... You might as well return his service, no?
Summary: You send Arthur a letter.
Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female!reader
Word Count: 2,185
Tags: Male Masturbation, solo handjob, mentions of oral and unprotected p in v, dirty talk, long distance relationship, high honor
Warnings: 18+ MDNI
an: So this came out of nowhere LMAO It's a bit different from what I'm used to, but I ran with it. The mentioned photo was heavily inspired by @sir-walton-goggins's under-the-cut sketch of their OC, Kris Blake. ššš I hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading!
Causerie: an informal conversation
Channeling the self-control of a brigade of soldiers, Arthur willed his unruly cock flaccid as he left the post office. An envelope addressed to Tacitus Kilgore in familiar dainty cursive teased him from inside his satchel. The nagging twinge in his gut that could only be satiated by his fist wrapped tight around himself in the solitude of his tent.Ā
He didnāt know how heād make it through the rest of the day without losing his sanity. Once youād unknowingly planted the seeds, his thoughts of you grew wild and untamed like the weeds at your feet. Heād never seen something so ridiculousāa woman in her day dress, the lacy hem stained with dirt, trying to repair a loose fence post on her own.
āNo man āround here?ā he had asked, holding his hand out for the hammer.
āThere is now.ā
You beamed, your smile stunning him like a camera flash. Unbeknownst to him, that grin was a brand, marking him as yours for a long time to come.Ā
Every time he passed by the quiet homestead, he found himself lightly pulling on Boadiceaās reins and scoping out something to fix. Your ways of showing gratitude, like a hug or kiss on the cheek, turned his neck to shades of crimson, yet heād still come knocking again some time later. On his last visit, you were dragging him to your room by cotton suspenders, mouth attached to his before he could get a word in.
An innocent lamb you were notāhe was sure of it now in a half-daze, hypnotized by your breasts as you bounced on top of him. Matter of fact, you mustāve been a witch or a succubus; heād never felt so used, drained, and perfectly satisfied.
And guilty, too. He couldnāt even look at you as he confessed to his life of criminality, finally admitting what heād come to tell you in the first place. After this job, he was leaving for good.
To his surprise, you didnāt put up a fightājust wished him wellāand dammit, that made him want you even more. You didnāt follow him outsideāonly watched from under the blanket as he said his last goodbye and promise.
āIāll write tāyou.ā
Receiving your letters kept his heart ticking and dick aching. What started as a pile of polite notes quickly transformed into a library of erotica. His hands trembled in anticipation as he opened the latest letter.Ā
Dear Arthur,Ā
Are you still alive? I hope you havenāt gone and gotten yourself killed. Iām sorry if I kept you waiting. A new photographer opened up in town, and I stopped by the studio one evening just before he closed. I may have batted my lashes and stood a little too close when I asked for his help. A special photo of me would be the perfect gift for my dear husband, who was about to be shipped away to war in the Philippines. You shouldāve seen how red he got when I dropped my blouse. I tried to sit pretty. Did it work?
A photo? Arthur checked the discarded envelope, searching for the supposed gift. A small photo was still tucked away in the envelope. He took it out and held it up to the lantern to get a good look.
Christ.
You were directly in the center of the camera with a lazy smile on your face. Pearls adorned your neck, and velvet cloth draped over your shoulders, just barely covering those twin humps on your chest. Fuck, he wanted to rip that photographerās head clean off his shoulders for capturing you like that, but goddamn, he wanted to shake the manās hand too. This slip of paper was a slice of heaven on Earth.
And for what he was about to do with it, he was going straight to hell. Setting the letter aside, the gunslinger undressed down to his union suit with the ardor of his twenty-year-old self. As he settled back onto the cot, he locked on to your sultry eyes and sighed contently.
I had a dream about you. Do you ever dream about me?Ā Ā
The bulge in his pants begged for attention, and he appeased it, palming himself idly while his eyes stayed trained on the photograph. Heās too old and weathered for thisāpining over some girl and touching himself like heād gotten a second wind of puberty.Ā
But he couldnāt help it. Even after deafening gun fights and vicious animal attacks, heād find a letter to re-read, and now he had this picture to accompany his fantasies. His gaze shifted from the photo back to your words on the page.Ā
We were in this beautiful room in a palace or someplace like that, swimming under blankets. It was far from my humble bed, but it felt like paradise.Ā
If only you knew, that little bed was his paradise.
Dream you tasted like whiskey and ash and smelled like leather and gunpowder. I donāt think it was too far off from the real thing. We werenāt wearing any clothes, of course, and your head was tucked between my thighs.Ā
Breath shaking, his hips shifted upward, the memory of your thighs on either side of him overwhelming his senses. Arthur sucked in his bottom lip and didnāt waste any more time undoing the bottom two buttons of his union suit. His cock sprung free, twitching and yearning. Flicking his eyes to your photo once more, his right hand moved on its own, kneading his leaking tip. He peeked over the edge of the paper, watching precum drizzle down his shaft, imagining it was you leaking around him.Ā
Oh, Arthur, I could feel your lips on every part of me at once, kissing up my stomach, bosom, arms, thighs, legs, all over. But when you found my lips again, I donāt know how my pounding heart didnāt suck me out of the dream. Has anyone ever told you how gorgeous your eyes are or how heavenly your hands feel? And your back, Mister Morgan, is like a brick wall. How I wish I couldāve dug my nails into it.
Arthurās fisted pace quickened as he stifled a groan, trying his very best to keep the sounds of his sin quiet. He urged himself downward into the cot, hoping the friction could mimic the sting of your nails dragging down his spine, but it was no use. Tightening his grip in frustration, he turned his attention back to the photograph of you. He wanted to study your hands, to imprint them in his mindās eye so he could imagine them scratching his back and pleasuring his cock.
But the photo was too close up, only your face and a peak of your breasts captured at that moment in time. Would he be too brazen to ask for another? To request a pose? Hellāheād stuff the money in an envelope with a list of the depraved positions heād like to see you in. Your hands on your bust, legs spread open, on all fours, one with your pretty fingers in your mouth, and a full body shot with just the pearls. Dammitāheād kill for it.Ā
But then, at the very end of the list, heād ask for a respectable one. One of you with your hair pinned up under a fancy hat, dressed in your finest, wearing a necklace, earrings, and a bracelet with your hands folded politely over your lap. One that was sweet and proper. One that he could tuck in his journal, frame, or pin up on the wagon. One that he could take out in broad daylight and pretend, just for a moment, that he really was that war vet admiring a photo of his loving spouse.
His hips moved involuntarily again, jutting up into his fistāthe placeholder for the pussy of the woman heād one day make his wife.
I didnāt plan to get you in bed that night, as unbelievable as that may sound. You were just so damn handsome and so so kind. I couldnāt help it. I needed to know how youād feel inside me. I hope you donāt see me as just some Jezebel.
āNo,ā he gasped out. Wet sounds of his strokes accompanied his declaration.
I really did and still do have feelings for you, Arthur. Itās quite scary, actually. Maybe thatās why my dreams about you are so vivid? I realized just how much I cared that night, looking down into your eyes. I donāt take you as the type of man to just give yourself away on a normal day like that, so I hope you feel the same way as me. Did I ever say thank you? Thank you for being such a giver. I have a tendency to take, take, take when Iām on top, but you got payback in my dream. You had me pinned under all of your weight, damn near suffocating me. It was the good type, though.Ā When you pushed into me, I forgot all about it. I never took you for an eager man either,Ā but you were drilling me into those blankets with the fervor of a threshing machine. Are you an eager man, Mister Morgan?
He answered in shallow pants, twisting his fist around his length and rocking his hips.Ā
I have a curse of waking up right when Iām on the edge, so as you can imagine, I had a wet problem to take care of. My fingers just donāt quite do it like you. I wish we couldāve had more time together. I get the feeling that you do a lot of taking care of other folks and donāt get that in return. Am I right? Iād take care of you, Arthur. Iād keep your belly full and drain your balls all in a night.
They tightened at the thought, and his hips were a piston now, going up and down on their own accord.
I know youād never ask because youāre too nice, but Iād get on my knees for you and take care of you in that way. Iām sad we never got to try it, that I never got to taste you. The thought gave me the silliest idea. Are you looking at my picture? Imagine that pearl necklace is your spend on my chest.
Jesusāthe perverted imagery hit him like a train. He looked at the pretty pearls atop your chest. Goddamn, minx.Ā
Donāt think me too crass, but do you touch yourself to my letters like I touch myself to yours? Yours are more well-mannered than mine. But still, I wonder, is your fist wrapped around your cock?
āYes, darlin.āĀ
Goddamnit, he was talking to himself now, arm cramping as he pumped feverishly at his engorged dick, his orgasm waiting to explode behind his eyes.
Do you imagine itās me instead? I wish it was me. I wish I was on top of you again, milking you for everything youāve got. Would you give it to me this time, Arthur? Would you spill inside of me?
And spill he did, teeth gritted and grunting, as hot ropes of lust spurted out over his hand. Once again, heād made a mess of himself on account of you.
Shame crept in as he floated back to reality and stared up at the canvas of his tent. He brought the letter back to his face to read the last paragraph. The least he should do was finish itādirty old bastard. But when he landed on your words and processed them, he was left with a numb, longing ache in his chest.
If we were together, Iād help clean you up, then maybe we could spend the rest of the night all tangled up in each other. Iām sorry Iām not there to touch you for real, but I hope these letters bring a little light to that hard, lonely life of yours. If I can make you feel good, even from far away, thatās enough for me. I miss you. Any chance you could come see me soon?Ā
Yours.
Arthur sighed and folded your letter back up neatly, tucking it away in his now hollowed-out copy of Rambles Through Woods and Plains. Though your photo and letter were out of sight, his mind refused to wander from the subject of you.
An assortment of motion pictures flickered in his memory: the way your head tipped in laughter at his dry sarcasm, how you so graciously welcomed him to that sitdown meal, the way you worried about him just as much as he worried about you, and how your words, even from afar, brought him unmeasurable comfort. Making it back across the Upper Montana could be a brutal fight, but heād outrun the law and take a few bullets if he had to. Heād bare it all to bring you back with him.Ā
As he relaxed into the cot, another thought drifted by, small and almost weightless like a dandelion seed in the wind: maybe he wouldnāt have to bring you back at all. Perhaps he could stay right there with you.
if u feel sad abt arthur think abt him drinking a hot chocolate and the foam clinging to his mustache and making him look silly šš
Oh my Lord oh my Lord thank you for this beautiful little image I'm crYING I had to write a blurb
"Arthur, you-"
Your words are swallowed up by a bubbling giggle, a hand coming to your mouth. Arthur's eyes narrow, and as if to torture your tickled heart, his lips purse. The thick glittering cream coating his moustache slowly starts to soak into the hair, giving it a milky hue. He was thoroughly enjoying the hot chocolate you'd made for the camp but now his nerves, his dislike of being seen, have his demeanour cooling much like the drink in his hands.
"What? What're y'gigglin' at?"
"It's just-" Your hand comes to wave near your face, a trying gesture, but he remains befuddled, "You got-" A playful squeak tightens in your throat and you carefully cradle your own mug, making sure not to spill anything. Arthur glances down to your mug, and then to his,
"What- d'you put somethin' in this?"
"No-! No, no, you- you just got- You got some-" A little humming chuckle forms in your chest.
Arthur rolls his eyes and takes another hearty slurp of the warm, sweet drink, smacking his lips a little yet still failing to notice the thick cream gracing his top lip.
"If you ain't gonna answer me, at least quit lookin' at me like that."
This causes your giggling to soften into gentle breaths, your playful expression faltering slightly with confusion.
"Like what?"
He doesn't answer for a moment, opting instead to shift in his cross-legged position in the dirt next to you. He gives you a quick once over, taking in the way you clumsily cradle your mug, the flush of your neck and face from laughing, your eyes dancing with mirth. A gentle sweetness blooms in his lungs, soft vines snaking up through his throat causing blood to rush to his face. He ducks his head, his hat leaving you with just the view of his mouth. His voice quietens, yet holds a slight frustration,
"Like there's somethin' you ain't tellin' me, somethin' stupid-"
"Hey-!" You snap, light and grinning, "I been tryna tell you. You got cream on your damn face."
Arthur's eyes cross as he dumbly tries to look at his own mouth. You bark out a laugh so suddenly that he jerks and almost spills his drink.
"It ain't that funny-" He murmurs distractedly, frowning. Before he can recover or tend to it himself, you've put your mug down and crawled close to him, reaching towards his face. Before he can pull away, your hand graces his jaw, and your thumb smushes into the cream at his top lip.
Arthur's grip on his mug approaches vice-like, his shoulders solid with a surprised tension. You smile at him, your gaze dropping to his mouth, before drawing your hand back and wiping it on your clothes. You sit back on your feet with a little huff. Arthur's brow is raised, his eyes staring at nothing in particular. He blinks, his face burning, and he finds himself wanting to ask you if you're sure you've gotten it all. Yet, all he can muster is an awkward grunt, too wrapped up in the way some of his moustache has stuck a little to his skin, the way he can smell your soap.
"Thank you."
Thank you for the inspiration, I've been feeling so crappy about my writing lately and this was so much fun <3
chapter 6, everything is the same, except Dutch is not insane, everyone is alive and well, Arthur does not have TB, there are no pinkertons, micah is somewhere in a ditch and my mental stability is restored
