Summary: Marcus returns from her another military campaign and finds you tense with the unrest building in Rome. And so he helps take your mind off it.
A/N- this purely self indulgent. Marcus has me by the throat. He has done since trailer 1. Tough men who melt for their woman!!! I am so here for that. Watching the movie and seeing how he was with Lucilla? I was a goner. So. Here’s this.
Warnings- 18+ | likely inaccurate/ooc Marcus as this is my first time writing for him. And writing for this time period. Not mentioned but kind of implied age gap. Smut: unprotected p in v, slight fingering( wc-4.5k )
Being born into royalty guaranteed you a life of luxury. Stability. No need to worry or want for anything. But that didn’t mean you were happy.
Your brothers had all the power the empire had to offer. And you? Very little.
They kept you hidden away for the most part. Even your quarters in the palace were on the complete opposite side to your brothers. Like a prisoner in your own home. Kept away. Out of sight. You couldn’t leave unless they allowed it, and even in that rare occurrence you were not to be let out of sight.
They brought you out for appearances sakes. Let the people of Rome see you at the colosseum from time to time. Let your face been seen to greet people at their frequent feasts, eat with them but remain silent. And then be sent away before they indulged in their hedonistic pleasures for the evening.
But your appearances being at only prestigious events, meant you mingled with the nobility at times. And along with that, had come to know Romes beloved General.
You’d been enamoured from day one. The first time you’d gotten to actually talk to him, the way he had looked at you like you were one the goddesses before him. The way he wanted to know about you. Listen. Had sat with you for what felt like hours as you gushed over how much you adored Virgil and Catullus. And though your brothers desire to hide you away kept you lonely for the most part, it also meant they rarely had their eye on you when you were inside palace walls. Which allowed for many a secret rendezvous.
Like the one you were presently waiting on.
Stood in the large arched window of your chambers, looking at the gardens below, the only place you could really roam freely. The flora bright and lush even in the twilight. Flowers that you couldn’t even name, buds and seeds brought back amongst the many stolen items from the Generals travels. His conquests under command of your brothers.
One of those conquests that was being celebrated presently. Past the gardens you could see the city alight with celebrations still. The rich throwing parties in their homes and gardens, whilst Romes lesser subjects suffered. The fires in the streets there to keep warm, not to light up lavish parties and celebrations. Celebrations like the ones presently in the palace. Which you cared very little for, but it did allow for a much easier meeting with your lover, as he was already inside palace walls. Eating. Drinking. Dancing maybe. Making himself seen for appearances sake when really all he was really waiting for was to get to you.
All he’d have to do is slip through the crowds and disappear from sight. Take the well practiced walk to your chambers. And hide away with you for the night.
And so. Eventually you heard a knock on your door. Firm and short. Then the sound of someone entering without being given vocal permission.
You didn’t need to turn around to know it was him. No one else entered your room without asking first. Your staff wouldn’t dare, even though you were always kind to them. Considerate. Far gentler than most nobles would deem necessary. They still knew their place. And they knew to obey you.
But Marcus knew he could enter without permission. He had done it often enough. Though he would always wait by the door once inside for you to speak. Acknowledge him. Wait to be fully welcomed into your space.
You were silent for a few short moments. Eyes still transfixed on the lights in the distance past the palace gates.
“ Rome is alight with joy at your return “ you finally spoke up, eyes still watching the glow of the lights in the city. Listening to the sounds of the happy crowds as they danced and cheered. Chanted and sang in drunken joy. Mingling with the cry’s of those that begged for food.
Events like this could distract them from the utter misery most of them were suffering each day. But not completely.
The tensions in Rome were rising. And it made you uneasy.
“ unnecessary celebrations “ Marcus murmured. He never had liked the fanfare. The attention. He was a soldier to his bones, not a fancy nobleman who liked to flash his privilege around and indulge in such festivities.
“ my brothers don’t seem to agree “ you responded. If you focussed enough you could hear the music somewhere in the palace “ through they will take any possibility to throw a party “
You heard Marcus stepping a little closer but he didn’t say anything for a few moments.
“ I was expecting them to bring you out “
“ I told them I was unwell and not up to it “ it had been a lie. But you didn’t want to go down there and force a smile onto your face. Sit still and pretty, when your mind was elsewhere. And had been for weeks “ I sense unrest in the near future “ you said quietly. Eyes still fixed on the celebrations “ it makes me uneasy “
“ you say that as if there is not always a lingering unrest in the empire. Men will always want to be gods. Emperors will always want more. More. More my darling “ Marcus said. His voice low and collected. It made you turn your head a little to the side to glance his way.
“ maybe so. But it is different this time Marcus “ you spoke, voice a little firmer as if to make him listen. Understand your lingering fears for what was beginning to boil under the surface of Romes imperial strength.
He stood there in a state of silence for a moment, a hand twisting one of the rings on his fingers as he seemed to take in what you said. Then, he let out another short exhale before speaking once more.
“ I am not sure of what’s about to transpire.” He admitted a little bluntly “ But I’m starting to sense it too. Like a storm, just waiting to happen. The people are starving. They sleep with empty bellies whilst emperors gorge themselves.”
He looked over at you, a concerned look apparent in his expression. He stepped in closer once again. He was within touching distance now. And he spoke again, his voice becoming more hushed like there was someone else there with you. Always scared someone may be listening in. The walls would always have ears “ It worries me. Greatly ”
“ me too “ you admitted quietly. If it came down to it and the people revolted. Or the senate conspired… you would be defenceless. Not only were you a woman. But the sister of the emperors. The emperors that more and more people in Rome were starting to despise. Would you be used as an example? Sent to the colosseum? Beheaded and your head staked outside the palace doors? There was a never ending list of how it would end for you. And none of the outcomes were particularly pretty.
Rome enjoyed punishing those it felt deserved it. Whether they truly did or not.
“ but it does no good to dwell on such thoughts “ you said after another few moments of silence. Fidgeting slightly with the fine material of your stola.
Marcus was behind you now. If you thought hard enough you could swear you could feel his body heat through the gold of his ceremonial armour.
“ so you do not think of the possibilities?”
“ no “ you said maybe a little too fast. It made a soft chuckle escape his lips and his hands landed on your shoulders. His touch was like magic. Like it has shattered the tense feeling not only in the air around you but in your limbs.
“ I know you too well my lady “ that made you smile. Just a little. A small twitch in your lips
“ that you do “ you smiled softly, turning your head to brush your cheek softly to his fingers. He squeezed your shoulders softly, a silent request for you to turn around. And you did, tilting your head slightly to the side as you looked up at him. Your hand coming up to scratch softly at his beard.
“ and you must know if things should collapse in the city… if I should- “ he sighed and cut himself off for a moment. You got the idea he was planning something. Something he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, tell you. But you trusted him implicitly. And you knew that if he wasn’t telling you it was for good reason. That when the time came he would tell you what you needed to know “ just know my lady, my loyalty does not lie with your brothers “ he said after a few beats of silence “ my loyalty, as it always has, lies with you “
You would’ve known that without him having to say it. But it was always nice to hear. Especially in a time where you felt so utterly and completely helpless. Alone.
But it also made you realise how much your time may be precious. Your time with Marcus specifically. If he was planning something, something big. It would be risky. Worse than any barbarian filled, untamed part of the empire. If he were to try conspire-
“ I do not wish to discuss it anymore “ you said and ran your fingertips over the cool gold of the laurels on his head “ war and death. What is morally right and wrong… it makes my head ache so deeply “
Marcus was a good distraction. He always was. He kept you sane.
“ and such a pretty head. What a crime for it to come to any pain “ his fingers skimmed some of your hair behind your ear, that gorgeous smile of his on his face that only you really got to see. It made you so weak in the knees. The way his eyes crinkled, those beautiful little lines that formed in the corners. You laughed softly at his words, always so appreciative. Complimentary.
You didn’t know what was going on with the tensions building in rome. You didn’t know how much longer Geta and Caracalla could keep their tentative grasp on things. But one thing you did know. Was that Marcus Acacius was devoted to you entirely.
And you to him.
“ I did miss you greatly “ you whispered after a few moments, realising you hadn’t mentioned it “ each time you are away… I… I am sure I spend the majority of my day on my knees praying to the gods “
Marcus’ large hands moved then to gently cup your face, his calloused palms rough against your perfectly smooth skin in a way that shouldn’t have felt as nice as it did.
“ you know I will always come back to you my lady. Always “ he murmured, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks “ never, and I mean never think I would leave you willingly. The gods themselves would have to rip me from your side, and even then I wouldn't stop fighting to come back to you."
You smiled softly and let your eyes close for a moment, your hands sliding up his arms to gently wrap your fingers around his wrists. Like he may vanish any second
“ oh how I missed you “ you whispered.
Marcus looked down at you with a mix of fondness and sorrow in his eyes. His sweet, lonely, girl.
As his head dipped down you instantly tipped your head up to meet him, his angular nose brushing against yours for a moment like he was waiting for permission to kiss you. He didn’t need it. But he always wanted it
“ kiss me my darling “ you whispered, lips so close to his they brushed as you spoke. And in a beat he granted your request. His lips capturing yours. It was like every drop of tension immediately vanished from your body, stepping closer to him so that your chest pressed to the solid force that was his.
He always kissed you like you were delicate. And he’d confessed such thoughts too. Like he was too brutish and strong. That he didn’t have a place kissing someone as gentle as you.
But it never took much convincing to urge him on.
You let yourself melt into it, let him hold your face so tenderly as he kissed away your fears and your stress. Even if just for tonight.
You had missed him. Missed this. The familiar tickly, scratchy feel of his moustache and beard against your soft skin. The way his large hands that were so stained in blood, used to such violence and anger, being soft. Gentle. Tender as they slipped into your hair. Twisting the strands around his fingers to anchor himself to you.
“ take me to bed “ you whispered against his lips when you both had no choice but to pull back slightly, breaths mingling in short soft pants “ give me the tender affections i so deeply crave “
“ you know I could never deny you my lady “ he murmured with a smile that made a small, soft laugh bubble past your lips. It was true. He never would. You were the only woman, only person period, who could make this man weak in the knees. He’d drop to the floor and kiss your feet in utter submission if you asked it of him.
He scooped you up into his arms with a smile, carrying you across the room to gently deposit you on your bed. You looked up at him with a coy smile as you lay amongst the plush linens.
From your spot you watched as he made swift work of removing the outer layers of his ceremonial armour. Watching a man who was conditioned to need to be protected at all times, need to be strong and prepared, remove the precious clothes… it always felt like a privilege.
You giggled softly when he climbed onto the bed with you, moving over your body in just his tunic now, propping himself above you on his elbows.
“ my beautiful one, like a goddess laying in wait for me here “ he murmured, brushing the backs of his fingers to your cheek “ as tempting as Venus herself “
“ I am no goddess my darling “ you whispered, leaning slightly into his touch as your eyes locked onto his.
He kissed you again. Like you were a source of air. And his large hands wandered, the fine fabric of your stola being pushed up your body, then over your head. His hands and lips everywhere. Mapping out every inch of your skin as if he didn’t already have it committed to memory.
“ always so soft “ he murmured as his lips descended between the valley of your breasts, your back arching up as if to chase the feeling even more.
“ let me feel your skin on mine “ you whispered. Hands weakly tugging on his tunic. He didn’t need to be told twice. And it soon had joined your stola on the floor, a blissful sigh leaving your lips as he pressed his body to yours. It felt like being reawakened. Like the shackles keeping your mind so locked in a sense of fear and unrest… shattered. The feel of his war ravaged body against yours. So soft and pristine. Never having done a days hardship in your life. It felt… right. So unbearably right.
“ my little dove. So perfect and all mine “ he whispered as he kissed at your neck, his hand sliding down your body. Following the curves and the lines, the soft feminine dip of your waist and curve of your hip. Tracing a gentle path down until it settled between your thighs, fingers brushing through the soft thatch of curls and then along your slit.
“ your body is already preparing itself for me “ he murmured next to your ear, his thick fingers gliding through the slippery slickness between your thighs. It was a little embarrassing. All you’d done was kiss, feel his hands running over your body. And yet you were soaked.
“ you see how much I have missed you?” You whispered, your eyes locked onto his as he lifted his face from your neck.
“ I missed you too my darling “ he whispered, and you whined softly as one of his fingers gently pushed into your welcoming warmth “ every night I lay sleeping on that ship I dreamt of being inside you once again “ his words made your cheeks flush, the thought of him on his way to a brutal battle. But thinking of you. Wanting to be home with you.
His fingers that were usually covered in blood or dust or sweat. Now dripping with the essence of you. The metallic scent of ichor nowhere to be found, just the heady scent of your arousal clinging to his fingers instead.
“ Marcus “ you whimpered softly as his fingers slowly pumped in and out of you, the soft wet sounds mingling with your breathy pants. So weak from something as simple as his hand.
“ shh I know little dove “ he murmured and kissed your forehead. Your cheek “ your body always welcomes me so warmly. So readily. How I dreamed of being in this moment again with you “ his words were like honey, your body melting into the bed with their combination of his touch. He pleasured you as naturally as he held his sword. A man able to kill and give pleasure as if they were one and the same. A rigid dichotomy you didn’t wish to think too much about in that moment.
“ I dreamed of you too “ you whimpered “ every night I wished you were laying beside me “ he smiled and curled his fingers up, making a gasp escape your lips and your hips buck.
“ such filthy thoughts for a princess “
When he deemed you prepared enough, he withdrew his fingers. Sucking your essence from them in a way that never failed to make your cheeks burn.
“ the filthy one here is you my love “ you whispered, making him chuckle as he settled between your legs, using his knee to nudge your thighs apart, you let out a steady exhale. You could feel the heavy weight of his hard length against your leg and it made you chew on your bottom lip.
“ are you ready for me little dove?” He whispered, gently brushing some hair back from your face. He always gazed upon you like you were the most beautiful creature.
“ yes. Yes I am ready “ you replied and turned your head to kiss the palm of his hand that had settled against your cheek “ please Marcus. I have waited so long. So patiently. Do not make me wait a moment longer “
His eyes lingered a little longer. Just to be sure. Always wanting to be sure. Before wrapping his hand around his throbbing length and notching it at your weeping entrance.
You whined and arched your back when he pushed forward. Your body had missed him, missed the stretch. The weight. The fullness. And it welcomed him home with a practiced familiarity. Like the space inside of you was carved out specifically for him and him alone.
You watched his face intently, a hand on his cheek to take in every single emotion. The way his brow furrowed as soon as he felt your body envelope him, slowly sliding into you and stretching your walls so perfectly around him. A deep moan falling past his lips.
“ you feel so good. Always so good my flower " He whispered, his tone deep and husky. He knew you took no other lovers. Unlike your brothers that seemed to be making their way through every single concubine in Rome. Your body was his. For him. His eyes his hands. And so it had been a while since you’d last taken him. Since before he’d left for Numidia. And he knew this. So he was even more gentle than usual "Just a bit more. You can take all of me, I know you can." He gently encouraged you, his hand moving to gently push at your thigh. Opening you up just that little bit more to him, his eyes drifting down briefly to watch the way your body eagerly accepted him in.
“ I’m okay “ you whispered, a shaky exhale leaving your lips “ I can take it “ you agreed, urging him to pepper your face in soft gentle kisses. He never wanted your discomfort.
“ that’s my sweet girl “ he murmured and kept pushing on until his pelvis was flush to yours, the soft curls at his base tickling your skin in the most delicious way “ there we go. That’s it”
He remained still for a few moments, your eyes locked on his as you took deep and slow breaths. Adjusting. Your body reacquainting itself with his.
“ ready my flower?” He whispered and kissed your cheek. You simply gave him a nod, your hand sliding over his strong bicep and squeezing softly.
He remained still a moment longer, then gently began to move within you. Every thrust was slow and deep, almost teasing in nature. Slow, long, drags. Pulling out almost completely before sliding back in at an agonisingly slow speed "Good, little dove... That's my girl..." he whispered, his voice still reassuring and gentle. One large hand shifting to gently knead at your chest, trying to relax you as much as humanly possible " you take me so well “
Soft, sweet moans escaped your lips as he settled into a steady but oh so deep pace. Your hips already beginning to ache at having to stretch so wide to accommodate his broad body, but it was a welcomed ache. It made you feel alive in a way you only felt with him.
“ oh Marcus “ you gasped your hand slipping to grasp the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the curls there that were already damp with with a sheen of sweat that was glowing on his skin.
"Oh gods..." He groaned, closing his eyes at the blissful sensations you offered him . The tight heat, the sound of your breathy little moans. He knew and you knew that they didn't always have time for slow, passionate lovemaking, but he was enjoying every single moment of it. He didn't want it to end. The general wanted it to last forever. As did you.
But there was also an underlying desperation lingering between the two of you. Of how much you had missed each other. How desperately you needed each other.
And his hand moved away from your chest to grasp your free hand, interlocking his fingers with yours and pinning it down against your bed sheets.
“ Marcus “ you whimpered in some pathetic kind of way. A plea. For more. More. Always more. More of him. More of the two of you. Just. More.
“ I know my darling. I know. I’ve got you sweet one “ he whispered and readjusted his position, thrusting into you with a little more urgency. Harder. Deeper.
He began groaning louder, letting himself go in a way he had once confessed he never had with previous lovers. Always wanting it done quick. Emotionless. But not with you, never like that with you. He let his walls down. It was more than just a means to an end with you. It was special. Passionate. It was love.
His hips continued to push hard against yours, your body jostling with each deep thrust he granted you "There you go, my love. Look at you taking all of me." He praised, holding onto your hand tightly like he was scared you’d vanish "You don't know how divine you look right now..." he murmured into her ear, dropping his head to pepper your neck with kisses. Careful not to mark you, gods forbid your brothers should pay attention long enough to see “ the most ethereal creature “
“ I missed you so “ you whimpered, your arms tight around his neck to hold him close “ I missed you “
“ and I you my love… you feel so perfect… so tight. So wet. Perfect for me my flower “ he murmured against your ear, his teeth playfully nipping at your soft skin " I missed you my dove..." he breathed your familiar pet name like a prayer as he made love to you, every movement of his hips bringing you both closer to ecstasy. And ecstasy you knew would be more earth shattering than ever after so long without his touch.
He whispered softly in your ear , his lips grazing your skin. Praising you. Loving you. Over and over "I've missed this, my love. I've missed being inside you, feeling your body against mine. I promise to never to leave you again" you knew it was a empty promise. That he would leave again. That the emperors would call him away.
But you didn’t call him out on the fact. Too lost in him. The feelings he gave you.
“ I love you my darling “ you whimpered as the familiar tension started to grow deep in your body, with every thrust hitting the most incredible spot inside you. It made tears spring in your eyes. But not out of sadness or pain. Out of utter joy and happiness at having him back in your arms even for a short period.
“ and I… you little dove “ he panted softly, his head lifting as his eyes locked on yours. He knew your body well. Knew the signs of your impending climax and he kissed your lips before speaking again “ you’re close sweet one “
You nodded and grasped at his face to keep his eyes locked with yours “ finish with me?” You pleaded “ please “ he nodded and kissed you again, picking up his pace ever so slightly, one hand pushing your thigh up as if to let him get impossibly deeper.
And a few more deep strokes had you stumbling head first over the edge. Your orgasm so blinding you were certain it made your vision blur. Every nerve in your body sparking like hot coals. And the way your walls spasmed and clenched down around Marcus was clearly his undoing too. Delivering one final, deep thrust before he groaned loudly, spilling his seed into you in a way that you would never tire of. No matter how risky the situation was.
Your body trembled as your climax finally dissipated. Going weak and boneless as you sunk into the linens below you, panting softly as you still clung to Marcus. Who was fighting the urge to just drop down against you too.
But he carefully rolled off you, pulling you against his side immediately. A soft kiss to your forehead and a large hand stroking down your spine. You were certain this was what pure bliss felt like. Maybe you’d died and fallen into the elysian fields. Peace and bliss and love.
“ I love you “ he whispered and kissed your head again as you lay composing yourself against his chest “ and I meant what I said little dove…. My loyalties lie with you. And if- “
“ shh “ you said softly and lifted your head, placing a finger to his lips “ not now. Let us just enjoy this moment together “ you didn’t know how many of these moments you would get now. They had always been special and each moment was to be cherished. But even more so now.
You didn’t know what the future held for Rome. Or for you. But you knew Marcus would be at your side. And that was enough for now.
Whenever Sam is shown sleeping in season 1, it’s usually in this position: on his back, hands resting on his stomach. When Sam dies at the end of season 2, he’s lying in the same position, which makes me think Dean arranged him that way. Gently laid him out on his back, set his hands across his stomach, so it looks like he’s sleeping.
Inspired by this post because I saw it and immediately had to get this little word vomit out
Also. Hers my masterlist if you’re so inclined
“ the hell you doin out here? Back inside it’s freezin” Arthur used as a greeting, grumbling but with no real malice in his words, as you appeared by his side at the campfire. You were used to his grumpy tone, but he always had a soft spot for you.
“ makin’ sure you ain’t froze to death “ you said softly, rubbing at your arms as you joined him by the fire. It was Arthur’s turn on watch and he’d been out there a good couple of hours now “ and I can’t listen to Abigail and John argue for a second longer “ you sighed. At least in their old camps you could get away from their squabbles. But with everyone all squished into one cabin it was impossible now.
You’d rather take the cold outside with Arthur. You pulled your thick shawl tighter around yourself and held your hands out to the flames, you’d only been out there a few minutes and already you felt like ice. And he’d been out there hours. So you’d suck it up.
“ c’mere “ he grumbled and unbuttoned his coat, a gentle hand on your arm tugging you into the welcoming warmth of the thick material. You wrapped your arms around his middle and rested your head to his chest, a soft sigh leaving your chapped lips. He wrapped the coat tightly around you, his arms following suit and holding you close. He was like a walking oven, his body heat seeping through the thick wool of your shawl and chasing the chill away. “ better?”
“ mhm. Thank you sugar “ you sighed and let yourself relax a little more in his hold, taking in his familiar scent. The comforting feel of his sturdy body in your embrace. Always strong for you. Always a rock when things got rough “ we’re gonna be alright. Ain’t we Arthur?” You asked softly after a few moments. The last few days had been hellish. You’d liked Blackwater. You’d liked the camp. The town. And it wasn’t covered in inches of snow which really made it a favorite at the current moment.
“ course we are. Dutch has a plan “ Dutch always had a plan. But you don’t want to get into that conversation right now. So you simply nodded and let out another shaky exhale, a puff of fog as you did “ and y’know I always keep you safe darlin’ I won’t let nothin’ bad happen to ya. Ever “
He did. Always. You’d been the first person he grabbed at the Blackwater camp after everything went crazy, not letting you out of his sight for a second like he was scared you’d get left behind somehow. He’d never allow that. He’d move heaven and earth to keep you safe. Set the dark world ablaze to keep you warm. Nothing would ever get in the way of Arthur keeping you safe.
“ I know “ you tipped your head to look up at him with a soft smile and he leant down pressing a kiss to your forehead. Your turned away as he did with a small laugh
“ what’s got you giggling’ now?”
“ you got lips like damn ice Arthur!” He chuckled at that and simply did it again, pressing his cold chapped lips against your forehead.
“ oh I do? I do?” He asked as he held you tightly and kept pressing his frozen lips to your forehead, your nose, your cheek. Wherever he could reach as you giggled and squirmed in his embrace
“ Arthur!” Your cheeks ached from smiling for the first time since leaving Blackwater, and Arthur’s chuckles alone were enough to ease your worries. Because as long you had him maybe everything would be okay.
- Arthur Morgan hcs ( high honour vs low honour ) 18+
HH!Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader / LH!Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader
Request- LOVE your writing, can we get a high honor vs low honor Arthur in bed? HAVE A LOVELY DAY :D
A/N- ty to the anon for requesting this, I’m in one of those ruts where I’m struggling to write one shots more than like a few sentences here and there or hating everything and restarting a million times lol. So a HC request was a nice way to get me writing without thinking too hard 😭💀. I will say I have never and could never play low honour. So if it’s inaccurate well… it’s fanfiction. This is basically soft vs rough Arthur lmao
Masterlist
Low honour
- He’s a slightly selfish lover. If he comes first then he doesn’t particularly care if you haven’t
- Likes to use his size to his advantage. Hes taller. Heavier. Wider. Likes when he can pin you down and put his weight on you, trapping you in place. Size kink goes crazy
- Which also leads into his love of choking. And hair pulling. He just likes to manhandle you , he likes that he’s so much bigger and can just like… toss you around a bit. He likes knowing he can wrap his hand around your throat and have your literal life in his hands, and you just willingly let him.
- Of course he’s far tougher and rougher. HH!Arthur will spend ages working you up and relaxing you and making you come in the most blissfully world shattering way. LH!Arthur just wants to see how many times he can make you finish before you pass out
- OR. If he’s feeling particularly dickish. He’ll just edge you. For hours. Days. Simply because he thinks it’s funny. And he’s a jerk.
- Prone bone is one of his favs. He can trap you in place, press your face into his pillow and go to town.
- lip biter. Absolutely will tug your bottom lip between his teeth mid make out
- Possessive. Likes leaving hickeys all over you. Especially where others can see them. And he doesn’t like you hiding them either. He wants people to know you’re his
- He’ll praise you but it’s usually pretty degrading too. Like think ‘ who’s my good lil whore, hm? ‘
- Loveeeessssssss You giving him head. Loves it. And will actively ask for it unlike HH!Arthur
- The sloppier the better, roughly fucking himself into your mouth until you gag and choke and urging you to keep going? Yeah he loves that shit. ‘ that’s it. Good girl choke on it ‘ ‘ you can do better than that princess ‘
- DARE I SAY IT. DARE I SAY LH!ARTHUR HAS A GUN KINK. CAUSE- cue my silent war flashbacks to that one Tess gun kink fic I wrote.
- Ass man. Will smack it and grab it every chance he gets. Whether it’s in the bedroom or not.
- Finishes on your face, tits,ass. Likes the look of it it fills some possessive desire inside him. Like he’s marking you.
- And he ain’t tryna get you pregnant
- he may be an absolute dick but he does give you some aftercare. He’s not the cuddly type. But he’ll help you clean up and kiss you, tell you you did a good job. He’ll always make sure you’re doing okay because he loves you
•High honour•
- Treats you like you’re delicate. Even if he knows you’re not. He’s tender. Gentle. He worships you. There is not a single inch of skin unkissed, caressed. Loved.
- He always wants you to come first. And multiple times too. But in a different way to LH!Arthur. He doesn’t want to overstimulate you he just wants to give. Hes such a giver. And he would happily spend an entire day with his head between his thighs if he could.
- Like. This man is a munch. He is. Argue with the wall. He is
- And he’s damn good at it. And thorough. Buries his damn face in you. And you’ve seen the size of his hands, those thick fingers of his make an appearance too. He knows your body well and can hit the perfect spot with practiced ease ‘ that’s it darlin, right there yeah?’
- He’s sloppy with it and he doesn’t care. If his beard isn’t glistening with you when he’s done then he didn’t do it right
- He likes missionary. So he can see your face and kiss you as much as he wants, he just loves to watch you. He likes to see the way he makes you feel, likes to watch the way your face twists and relaxes with the pleasure he gives you.
- Praise!!! So much praise!!!
- ‘Doin so fell f’me darlin takin me so well ‘ ‘ look so pretty like this ‘ ‘ eyes on me darlin, wanna see that pretty face when you come ‘
- Loves you playing/pulling his hair. Whether it’s when he’s got his head between your thighs or when he’s buried deep inside you and you’re desperately clawing at him. He loves it
- He’s a boobs typa guy. Loves to grab them and and suck on them, especially if you have your fingers running through his hair at the same time.
- He likes to finish inside despite the risk. But if not he’ll wait until the very last second and pull out, just spilling onto your stomach. He doesn’t wanna… defile you. You’re a precious creature worthy of being worshipped and desired, not treated like some cheap saloon girl.
- But deep down he wouldn’t even mind if you did get pregnant. He wants nothing more than to have a family with you one day.
- the sweetest aftercare. Cleans you up and helps you get dressed again. The act of dressing someone rather than undressing them is so intimate and he loves it.
- he’ll cuddle you and pet your hair, tell you how much he loves and adores you. How beautiful you are, how good you made him feel. He literally is a never ending fountain of praise.
Request- " if Arthur has a secret lover that he tells no one about and he goes to see her when he can after jobs maybe.shes so kind and devout and good that he thinks he doesn't deserve her. But he be besotted with her obsessed to worship the ground she walks on. Arthur not believing in anything but finding this good woman and wanting to be good for her but maybe knowing he can't
A/N- this is mostly a kind of dive into Arthur's head I like it idk. I also paired this with a request I had about bathing Arthur. It kinda fits. Anyway this is a lil shorter than I normally write but life had been lifing lately Imao. And this got me back into writing something for the first time in a lil bit so! Do enjoy.
Warnings- 18+ | some religious imagery, a small chunk of smut right near the end (oral, R receiving) { wc- 3.4k}
Masterlist | AO3
Arthur was not a good man . He feared he never had been. Not really. No matter how many people could try convince him otherwise. He wasn’t. He was bad. He did bad things. A good man didn’t murder, rob, manipulate.
He was no saint. So incredibly far from it.
And yet with you? Well… he felt he could be.
You with your delicate hands that soothed his bruised and battered skin, your voice like that of an angel on his shoulder that spoke to him with an airy tenderness that he did not deserve.
He was not a holy man. And yet for you he would renounce all sin and drop to his knees to beg for forgiveness and retribution. The only deity worth worshipping in his eyes. His slice of heaven always waiting to chase the darkness from his mind. If just for a few hours.
He was drawn to you like there was something mystical in your words, hypnotising him, controlling him, luring him in with nothing but a smile. He would find himself stumbling his way to your door, just to drop down at your feet and beg. Beg for you to erase his sins and show him grace, Allow him the privilege of being in your presence for a while. Because in that awful, terrible world he’d found himself in… nothing felt right but you.
And so there he was again. At your door. Standing there in the rain as he waited for you to answer. His knuckles bruised on the wood in the night, praying you’d be awake, two rabbits slung over his shoulder. As if they could be excuse enough to spend more time with you.
That he had brought you supplies. And that of course he wouldn’t mind skinning them for you. No it really wasn’t a bother.
Though deep down he knew he didn’t need an excuse. That you would always welcome him in with open arms and at times had even begged him not to leave again. But he always felt like he needed the excuse… maybe more to convince himself of something rather than you.
He knocked again. Hoping, praying you were still awake.
And you were. As if you’d been waiting. Maybe you had. But probably not. It has been weeks. 3. 4? He wasn’t sure. But weeks . Weeks that had felt like some kind of condemnation for his sins, being punished by having to stay away. Dutch in one ear, Strauss in the other. A gaggle of others behind him.
Like some guard dog sent out to attack. Kill. Rob. Threaten. And he was tired. Exhausted. He’d no chance to slip away, no chance to sneak his way to your cabin.
But he was there now.
And so were you.
“ Arthur” you looked ethereal. Stood there in the doorway, backlit by the lamp in the room behind you. You didn’t sound surprised to see him. More relieved than anything.
He knew he worried you. Knew you must be sick with it when he went away for weeks on end, no sign he was alive other than another article on the front of the paper about Dutch and the gang robbing something or other.
He walked in as you stepped aside, standing in the warmth of your small home. He’d arranged it for you some time back. Some place to keep you safe.
“ I missed you “ you said, your arms wrapping around his rain soaked torso. Your head resting against his chest, breathing out like you had just received your first gasp of air after being held underwater for too long.
“ I missed you too “ he murmured, his free arm wrapping around you. Strong. Secure. Steady. You were grounding, dragging him out of a haze he had been stuck in to coax him back to reality “ brought you these “ he said, his voice low. Gruff even. He felt like he couldn’t raise his voice in there. That if he did the illusion would shatter and he’d wake up in his tent. All of it some cruel dream to taunt him.
“ thank you “ you said, your voice soft “ I’ll skin them later “ that made Arthur smile, a chuckle escaping his lips. The first in 4 weeks.
“ darlin’ I’ve seen the way you skin game. I ain’t lettin’ you anywhere near ‘em you’ll butcher the damn things “ his voice was gentle with his teasing, but it was true. He’d once left you to it, letting you skin the game he’d brought you. Only to return to what looked like a massacre had taken place on your kitchen table “ I’ll do it “
You laughed a little yourself and nodded
“ yeah I… I ain’t the best huh “ he dropped the rabbits on the table and then turned back to you, he needed to be close to you again.
“ I really did miss ya “ he murmured, reaching out to tuck his fingers under your chin so you’d look up at him “ sorry I ain’t been around much “
He looked down at you, just looking. Admiring. You were so beautiful . So unbelievably gorgeous that it made his heart ache. So beautiful that even death would hesitate to pluck you up into his waiting arms. Because to remove you from the earth would be too vicious even for him, to devoid the planet of such beauty would be low even by his standards.
“ where y’been? “ you asked softly, leaning into his touch “ doin’ bad things again? “
“ real bad things sweetheart “ he murmured.
You never really asked him for more details. Never went delving into what dark and desperate things he found himself doing for Dutch. You'd push from time to time. But never asked anything too damning. You knew he was bad. Never asked him to confess his sins to you, you just let them lie. Let him forget them for a while whilst he was with you.
“ that mess in Valentine… was that you? “ she asked “ read about it in the papers. Claiming it was Van Der Linde boys. And I figured… that usually means you “ Arthur sighed, tucking some of your hair behind your ear as you looked up at him.
He didn’t deserve the way you gazed at him. The way you admired him. The way you peeled back each layer of terribleness to see the good hidden deep underneath.
“ yeah “ he didn’t attempt to lie. What was the need? You knew anyway “ Strauss took a bullet. Old bastards still breathin’ though unfortunately “ he murmured and stepped away from you. He felt tetchy. Needed to busy his hands.
You seemed to gather the point. That that was enough for now. That you didn’t need to know the who’s, the when’s, they why’s. He’d told you the vague outline. Skimmed the tale. And that was enough.
“ well… you gonna sort theme rabbits f’me? I’ll cook you up somethin’ nice “ Arthur gave a small smile at your willingness to let his vague stories stay exactly that. To know he did bad things, but not wishing to know exactly what those things were.
And so you both fell into an almost domestic scene. The comfortable quiet that could settle around two people doing their own thing, two people just happy to be in each others company. Two people comfortable together.
He skinned the game as you pottered about doing something or other in the kitchen around him. It felt nice. A scene he could almost see himself having permanently.
Maybe somewhere back out west. Some little cabin or ranch, just you and him. And some sheep or chickens or something. That damn rancher life Dutch had been harping on about for so long… but just you two.
A ring on your finger. A family. Domesticity that he never truly realised he’d craved.
But that was all some hopeless dream wasn’t it.
So he’d savour those moments for now. The quiet bliss. The escape from everything back at camp. His quiet comfortable time with you.
He finished the game, washing off his hands and placed himself behind you, arms around your waist and a gentle kiss to your cheek.
Those moments were his. His true escape and joy. When he could feel vulnerable. Affectionate.
You were the only true receiver of his affections. You brought it out of him. A constant deep desire within him to want to hold you. Kiss you. Love you. Something he usually tried to keep buried.
It was a tender scene. His chin propped on your shoulder, his arms around you. You often joked that it baffled you how this man that was so tender with you, so caring. So… soft. Was wanted dead or alive in multiple states.
His true moments of retribution came when he was with you like that. When he could hold you and be gentle. Pour out all his emotions and feelings via his actions.
Including the times when he was able to press you into your mattress. Your bed, his saving grace, his chance to truly worship every inch of you. And worship he did. Hands determined and insistent on your soft skin, mapping out your curves and edges to commit them to memory. Lips burning as they trailed your body to commit each inch to his brain.
The way your hands gripped at him, your fingernails piercing his skin and keeping him grounded. Reminding him it was all real he was sane. And the sounds you made more beautiful than any angel, whispering his name in his ear.
He always made sure to worship every part of you. Kissing in the most uncommon of places. His lips brushing your hip bone. The inside of your wrist. Each and every divet of your spine. Making sure you knew he cared. That he appreciated every second he had of you. That you weren’t some hurried little triste that he kept hidden away until he felt an itch needed to be scratched. That this side of things wasn’t a necessity. But simply just a way to prove his points.
He made sure you knew you were his everything. The one thing keeping him holding on to his morality, his one tether to the right side of things.
Afterwards he would lay there with you. Your body’s intwined and your fingers stroking through his hair. And he’d wonder when he’d get to see you again. When he’d be able to return to your arms. Missing you before he’d even left
And he desired it now.
It wasn’t even an inherently lust fuelled desire. But a desire to simply be close. To hold. To touch. To feel. To be touched in a way of care and to touch in a way that showed love not violence. To prove he could touch with love. That not everything he did needed to be violent.
So he turned you gently, cupping your face in his hands. And kissed you. Firm. But not rushed. Purposeful. His hands pulling gently at your hips to hold you flush against him. Some silent request for more.
But you held your hands firmly to his chest as he kissed you, like you could read his mind.
“ ain’t lettin’ you into my bed like this “ you said with a slight sternness to your tone that made him smile “ you look like you went swimmin’ in the swamps “ he chuckled at your words and nodded.
“ and I thought you enjoyed a rugged man “ he teased, his voice low and thick. He always spoke like he needed to be quiet with you. Like inside those four walls of your cabin if he spoke any louder he’d shatter the facade and you’d vanish.
“ rugged. Not filthy “ you teased with a smile and pressed a kiss to his cheek “ I’ll draw you a bath “
He watched you slip from his grasp, disappearing to arrange it. Simply because you wanted to. You didn’t have to. You weren’t the type to be some slave of a wife to a man that demanded everything of you. And he was not the type to be that kind of husband.
You simply just cared. Had too much care and kindness in your heart.
When it was ready you called him through. The whole thing still as quiet and calm as it had been since he’d stepped through your door.
The contrast always shocked him.
“ c’mon. Whilst it’s hot sugar “ you said softly, grabbing gently at his jacket from behind to help him shed it.
Being naked in front of you wasn’t always some lust filled moment. It was… natural. Intimate in ways different from those fuelled by sex. Vulnerable. Completely bare and unarmed. A way no one but you got to see him. A way he was certain he could never really trust anyone as much as you.
“need some time alone or ya want a hand? “ you asked softly, perching on the side of the tub. It was a little small. Or maybe he was a little big. Probably both.
He didn’t need your help not at all. But he’d take every single second he could have with you. Each tick of the clock was precious.
“ like my own personal bath girl ain’t ya darlin? “ he said with a smirk which made you smile, but roll your eyes.
“ I don’t think I’m as complimentary “ you said softly, dipping a cloth into the water to wash away the dirt and dust that came from sleeping outdoors and riding on horseback all day “ god the state of ya Arthur “ you sighed, gently washing over bruises and cuts.
You were used to that though. Arthur’s body had been littered in scars and bruises as long as he could remember.
“ ain’t nothin serious “ he said and it just made you sigh.
Your touch was so gentle against his battered skin. As if washing away all the bad he’d done in the 4 weeks between seeing you. As if he would step out of that tub and out of your door a new man, that he’d be restored to new from your gentleness alone. He could pretend at least.
“ need t’eat more “ you murmured softly, your fingers trailing down his side “ gettin’ skinny “ it felt nice to hear concern. For someone to worry about him. For someone to notice “ I do worry bout ya Arthur “ you said quietly as if reading his mind “ more so lately “
He sighed and nodded
“ I know my darlin’. I know “
“ ain’t never been this bad “
“ I know ” he glanced up at you as you ran soap suds through his hair, your fingers soft and gentle on the knots.
“ cant help feelin’ like… like one day you just ain’t gonna come back here “ he closed his eyes for a moment and nodded. He hadn’t that this was how it was. That he worried you. That he caused you so much stress and anxiety “ I knew the deal when we first met but… Arthur what the hell happened back in Blackwater? “
His jaw involuntarily tensed at the mention of Blackwater. Because Arthur didn’t really know what had happened. He’d heard different accounts. Dutch said one thing. John another. The papers something else.
All he did know, was deep down even without the evidence to prove the fact, it had something to do with Micah. Micah and his impulsive tendencies
“ darlin’ “ he sighed again “ I ain’t even sure. I weren’t there you know I weren’t “ he hung his head a little and closed his eyes for a moment “ whatever it was it was bad. And Dutch… he’s got all these plans. Ranching or god damn mangoes in Tahiti I don’t know look- “ he reached out and grabbed your hand, squeezing it softly “ whatever that mess was, I gotta help them pick up the pieces. Y’know I do “
“ yeah. I know “ you said quietly
“ but once they got enough money, they can go off and have their South Pacific dreams… and I’ll be free to go where I like. Right back here. T’you “ he didn’t quite believe it himself. And it felt cruel to say it when he truly thought about it. But some part of him felt that if he spoke it out loud, maybe it could happen.
But then again. Maybe not.
You didn’t seem convinced. Not at all. That look in your eyes that seemed filled with sadness and longing. Longing for a life he couldn’t give you. Not yet.
“ sounds like a real nice dream “ you said quietly, standing up to grab him a towel to dry off
“ it is darlin. It is. And you keep dreamin’ it cause I will make it happen. I swear it to ya I will “ he wrapped the towel around him and stepped out of the tub, placing his hands on your shoulders “ I will darlin “
You gave him a gentle smile and reached up to brush the backs of your fingers across his cheek, nodding softly
“ I’ll keep dreamin “
As was the usual he ended up in your bed again, desperate to prove his point and show you his true devotion. Purging his sins with his head between your thighs.
His fingers gently traced along your folds, spreading them gently. He groaned as he felt you quiver and twitch under his touch, the feeling and sound making him more and more insatiable. More desperate to please. His thumb ran up and pressed against your clit, rubbing firmly, almost possessively like he was trying to mark the territory as his. Watching your reactions as you squirmed below him, heavenly sounds escaping your mouth.
“ so good Arthur “
Your mewling and whining was like music to his ears, he could listen to it all day. Hearing you moan out your praises only made his tongue move faster, his efforts to bring you to climax increasing. His hands gripping your thighs, using his free hand to push your hips down gently.
It was never about him in those moments. Didn’t care for getting any kind of release himself. He just cared about you. As if doing something so selfless would free him of his vengeful, selfish ways from the last few weeks.
He circled your clit, giving you the attention you needed and wanted from him, making up for his absence with every swipe of his tongue, listening to the pretty moans you made. His tongue swiped across you again and again, licking a strip over your sensitive skin just wanting to touch you everywhere.
Your soft moans and writhing movements were enough to drive him crazy, his hands gripping tightly at your thighs.
“ m’so… Arthur I- “ you spoke brokenly, your hand patting around softly before grabbing onto his “ Arthur “ your soft whimper of his name made him groan hungrily, his fingers instantly lacing with yours
“ right here darlin. Ain’t goin no where “
He hummed softly against you, feeling your muscles tighten under his tongue. He pressed his tongue flat against you, giving a long, slow lick. He was addicted to the taste, he just wanted more of you. Like he couldn’t get enough. Couldn’t get close enough. He groaned softly again, the vibrations of the sound clearly doing you wonders.
He could feel your walls beginning to clench around his tongue as he thrust it inside of you,your hand squeezing down on his and you softly mewled his name over and over . And a few more flicks of his tongue was enough, your back arching from your bed with a high pitched whine. Your thighs clamping around his head making him moan against you, not stopping in his ministrations. Fervently licking and lapping until you went slack, gently pushing at his head.
“ oh Jesus “ you whispered with a soft, breathy laugh “ I don’t know how you’re so good at that “ he smirked softly and crawled back over your body, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
“ you give me enough practice “ he murmured with a smile, tilting your head so that he could kiss you.
“ did you really mean what you said earlier?” You asked quietly as he pulled back, your fingers brushing his hair back from his forehead “ that dream. We’ll really have that some day? “
He looked down at you. So hopeful. So desperate to love and to be loved. By him. He wanted to give you the world. To hand you anything and everything you wanted and needed on a silver platter before you could even ask for it.
Deep down he wished he could. A small, tiny part of him hoping that one day he really could fulfil that desire. Be… normal. A rancher or a farm hand. You, his wife. A kid.
But a louder, but stronger part of him told him he couldn’t. That he’d never really escape. That something would always be in the way. Something would always stop him.
But looking down at you, that loving hopeful look. He couldn’t tell you that.
Request- “ if Arthur has a secret lover that he tells no one about and he goes to see her when he can after jobs maybe.shes so kind and devout and good that he thinks he doesn’t deserve her. But he be besotted with her obsessed to worship the ground she walks on. Arthur not believing in anything but finding this good woman and wanting to be good for her but maybe knowing he can’t
A/N- this is mostly a kind of dive into Arthur’s head I like it idk. I also paired this with a request I had about bathing Arthur. It kinda fits. Anyway this is a lil shorter than I normally write but life had been lifing lately lmao. And this got me back into writing something for the first time in a lil bit so! Do enjoy.
Warnings- 18+ | some religious imagery, a small chunk of smut right near the end ( oral, R receiving)
Masterlist | AO3
Arthur was not a good man. He feared he never had been. Not really. No matter how many people could try convince him otherwise. He wasn’t. He was bad. He did bad things. A good man didn’t murder, rob, manipulate.
He was no saint. So incredibly far from it.
And yet with you? Well… he felt he could be.
You with your delicate hands that soothed his bruised and battered skin, your voice like that of an angel on his shoulder that spoke to him with an airy tenderness that he did not deserve.
He was not a holy man. And yet for you he would renounce all sin and drop to his knees to beg for forgiveness and retribution. The only deity worth worshipping in his eyes. His slice of heaven always waiting to chase the darkness from his mind. If just for a few hours.
He was drawn to you like there was something mystical in your words, hypnotising him, controlling him, luring him in with nothing but a smile. He would find himself stumbling his way to your door, just to drop down at your feet and beg. Beg for you to erase his sins and show him grace, Allow him the privilege of being in your presence for a while. Because in that awful, terrible world he’d found himself in… nothing felt right but you.
And so there he was again. At your door. Standing there in the rain as he waited for you to answer. His knuckles bruised on the wood in the night, praying you’d be awake, two rabbits slung over his shoulder. As if they could be excuse enough to spend more time with you.
That he had brought you supplies. And that of course he wouldn’t mind skinning them for you. No it really wasn’t a bother.
Though deep down he knew he didn’t need an excuse. That you would always welcome him in with open arms and at times had even begged him not to leave again. But he always felt like he needed the excuse… maybe more to convince himself of something rather than you.
He knocked again. Hoping, praying you were still awake.
And you were. As if you’d been waiting. Maybe you had. But probably not. It has been weeks. 3. 4? He wasn’t sure. But weeks. Weeks that had felt like some kind of condemnation for his sins, being punished by having to stay away. Dutch in one ear, Strauss in the other. A gaggle of others behind him.
Like some guard dog sent out to attack. Kill. Rob. Threaten. And he was tired. Exhausted. He’d no chance to slip away, no chance to sneak his way to your cabin.
But he was there now.
And so were you.
“ Arthur” you looked ethereal. Stood there in the doorway, backlit by the lamp in the room behind you. You didn’t sound surprised to see him. Make relief than anything.
He knew he worried you. Knew you must be sick with it when he went away for weeks on end, no sign he was alive other than another article on the front of the paper about Dutch and the gang robbing something or other.
He walked in as you stepped aside, standing in the warmth of your small home. He’d arranged it for you some time back. Some place to keep you safe.
“ I missed you “ you said, your arms wrapping around his rain soaked torso. Your head resting against his chest, breathing out like you had just received your first gasp of air after being held underwater for too long.
“ I missed you too “ he murmured, his free arm wrapping around you. Strong. Secure. Steady. You were grounding, dragging him out of a haze he had been stuck in to coax him back to reality “ brought you these “ he said, his voice low. Gruff even. He felt like he couldn’t raise his voice in there. That if he did the illusion would shatter and he’d wake up in his tent. All of it some cruel dream to taunt him.
“ thank you “ you said, your voice soft “ I’ll skin them later “ that made Arthur smile, a chuckle escaping his lips. The first in 4 weeks.
“ darlin’ I’ve seen the way you skin game. I ain’t lettin’ you anywhere near ‘em you’ll butcher the damn things “ his voice was gentle with his teasing, but it was true. He’d once left you to it, letting you skin the game he’d brought you. Only to return to what looked like a massacre had taken place on your kitchen table “ I’ll do it “
You laughed a little yourself and nodded
“ yeah I… I ain’t the best huh “ he dropped the rabbits on the table and then turned back to you, he needed to be close to you again.
“ I really did miss ya “ he murmured, reaching out to tuck his fingers under your chin so you’d look up at him “ sorry I ain’t been around much “
He looked down at you, just looking. Admiring. You were so beautiful. So unbelievably gorgeous that it made his heart ache. So beautiful that even death would hesitate to pluck you up into his waiting arms. Because to remove you from the earth would be too vicious even for him, to devoid the planet of such beauty would be low even by his standards.
“ where y’been? “ you asked softly, leaning into his touch “ doin’ bad things again? “
“ real bad things sweetheart “ he murmured.
You never really asked him for more details. Never went delving into what dark and desperate things he found himself doing for Dutch. You'd push from time to time. But never asked anything too damning. You knew he was bad. Never asked him to confess his sins to you, you just let them lie. Let him forget them for a while whilst he was with you.
“ that mess in Valentine… was that you? “ she asked “ read about it in the papers. Claiming it was Van Der Linde boys. And I figured… that usually means you “ Arthur sighed, tucking some of your hair behind your ear as you looked up at him.
He didn’t deserve the way you gazed at him. The way you admired him. The way you peeled back each layer of terribleness to see the good hidden deep underneath.
“ yeah “ he didn’t attempt to lie. What was the need? You knew anyway “ Strauss took a bullet. Old bastards still breathin’ though unfortunately “ he murmured and stepped away from you. He felt tetchy. Needed to busy his hands.
You seemed to gather the point. That that was enough for now. That you didn’t need to know the who’s, the when’s, they why’s. He’d told you the vague outline. Skimmed the tale. And that was enough.
“ well… you gonna sort theme rabbits f’me? I’ll cook you up somethin’ nice “ Arthur gave a small smile at your willingness to let his vague stories stay exactly that. To know he did bad things, but not wishing to know exactly what those things were.
And so you both fell into an almost domestic scene. The comfortable quiet that could settle around two people doing their own thing, two people just happy to be in each others company. Two people comfortable together.
He skinned the game as you pottered about doing something or other in the kitchen around him. It felt nice. A scene he could almost see himself having permanently.
Maybe somewhere back out west. Some little cabin or ranch, just you and him. And some sheep or chickens or something. That damn rancher life Dutch had been harping on about for so long… but just you two.
A ring on your finger. A family. Domesticity that he never truly realised he’d craved.
But that was all some hopeless dream wasn’t it.
So he’d savour those moments for now. The quiet bliss. The escape from everything back at camp. His quiet comfortable time with you.
He finished the game, washing off his hands and placed himself behind you, arms around your waist and a gentle kiss to your cheek.
Those moments were his. His true escape and joy. When he could feel vulnerable. Affectionate.
You were the only true receiver of his affections. You brought it out of him. A constant deep desire within him to want to hold you. Kiss you. Love you. Something he usually tried to keep buried.
It was a tender scene. His chin propped on your shoulder, his arms around you. You often joked that it baffled you how this man that was so tender with you, so caring. So… soft. Was wanted dead or alive in multiple states.
His true moments of retribution came when he was with you like that. When he could hold you and be gentle. Pour out all his emotions and feelings via his actions.
Including the times when he was able to press you into your mattress. Your bed, his saving grace, his chance to truly worship every inch of you. And worship he did. Hands determined and insistent on your soft skin, mapping out your curves and edges to commit them to memory. Lips burning as they trailed your body to commit each inch to his brain.
The way your hands gripped at him, your fingernails piercing his skin and keeping him grounded. Reminding him it was all real he was sane. And the sounds you made more beautiful than any angel, whispering his name in his ear.
He always made sure to worship every part of you. Kissing in the most uncommon of places. His lips brushing your hip bone. The inside of your wrist. Each and every divet of your spine. Making sure you knew he cared. That he appreciated every second he had of you. That you weren’t some hurried little triste that he kept hidden away until he felt an itch needed to be scratched. That this side of things wasn’t a necessity. But simply just a way to prove his points.
He made sure you knew you were his everything. The one thing keeping him holding on to his morality, his one tether to the right side of things.
Afterwards he would lay there with you. Your body’s intwined and your fingers stroking through his hair. And he’d wonder when he’d get to see you again. When he’d be able to return to your arms. Missing you before he’d even left
And he desired it now.
It wasn’t even an inherently lust fuelled desire. But a desire to simply be close. To hold. To touch. To feel. To be touched in a way of care and to touch in a way that showed love not violence. To prove he could touch with love. That not everything he did needed to be violent.
So he turned you gently, cupping your face in his hands. And kissed you. Firm. But not rushed. Purposeful. His hands pulling gently at your hips to hold you flush against him. Some silent request for more.
But you held your hands firmly to his chest as he kissed you, like you could read his mind.
“ ain’t lettin’ you into my bed like this “ you said with a slight sternness to your tone that made him smile “ you look like you went swimmin’ in the swamps “ he chuckled at your words and nodded.
“ and I thought you enjoyed a rugged man “ he teased, his voice low and thick. He always spoke like he needed to be quiet with you. Like inside those four walls of your cabin if he spoke any louder he’d shatter the facade and you’d vanish.
“ rugged. Not filthy “ you teased with a smile and pressed a kiss to his cheek “ I’ll draw you a bath “
He watched you slip from his grasp, disappearing to arrange it. Simply because you wanted to. You didn’t have to. You weren’t the type to be some slave of a wife to a man that demanded everything of you. And he was not the type to be that kind of husband.
You simply just cared. Had too much care and kindness in your heart.
When it was ready you called him through. The whole thing still as quiet and calm as it had been since he’d stepped through your door.
The contrast always shocked him.
“ c’mon. Whilst it’s hot sugar “ you said softly, grabbing gently at his jacket from behind to help him shed it.
Being naked in front of you wasn’t always some lust filled moment. It was… natural. Intimate in ways different from those fuelled by sex. Vulnerable. Completely bare and unarmed. A way no one but you got to see him. A way he was certain he could never really trust anyone as much as you.
“ need some time alone or ya want a hand? “ you asked softly, perching on the side of the tub. It was a little small. Or maybe he was a little big. Probably both.
He didn’t need your help not at all. But he’d take every single second he could have with you. Each tick of the clock was precious.
“ like my own personal bath girl ain’t ya darlin? “ he said with a smirk which made you smile, but roll your eyes.
“ I don’t think I’m as complimentary “ you said softly, dipping a cloth into the water to wash away the dirt and dust that came from sleeping outdoors and riding on horseback all day “ god the state of ya Arthur “ you sighed, gently washing over bruises and cuts.
You were used to that though. Arthur’s body had been littered in scars and bruises as long as he could remember.
“ ain’t nothin serious “ he said and it just made you sigh.
Your touch was so gentle against his battered skin. As if washing away all the bad he’d done in the 4 weeks between seeing you. As if he would step out of that tub and out of your door a new man, that he’d be restored to new from your gentleness alone. He could pretend at least.
“ need t’eat more “ you murmured softly, your fingers trailing down his side “ gettin’ skinny “ it felt nice to hear concern. For someone to worry about him. For someone to notice “ I do worry bout ya Arthur “ you said quietly as if reading his mind “ more so lately “
He sighed and nodded
“ I know my darlin’. I know “
“ ain’t never been this bad “
“ I know” he glanced up at you as you ran soap suds through his hair, your fingers soft and gentle on the knots.
“ cant help feelin’ like… like one day you just ain’t gonna come back here “ he closed his eyes for a moment and nodded. He hadn’t that this was how it was. That he worried you. That he caused you so much stress and anxiety “ I knew the deal when we first met but… Arthur what the hell happened back in Blackwater? “
His jaw involuntarily tensed at the mention of Blackwater. Because Arthur didn’t really know what had happened. He’d heard different accounts. Dutch said one thing. John another. The papers something else.
All he did know, was deep down even without the evidence to prove the fact, it had something to do with Micah. Micah and his impulsive tendencies
“ darlin’ “ he sighed again “ I ain’t even sure. I weren’t there you know I weren’t “ he hung his head a little and closed his eyes for a moment “ whatever it was it was bad. And Dutch… he’s got all these plans. Ranching or god damn mangoes in Tahiti I don’t know look- “ he reached out and grabbed your hand, squeezing it softly “ whatever that mess was, I gotta help them pick up the pieces. Y’know I do “
“ yeah. I know “ you said quietly
“ but once they got enough money, they can go off and have their South Pacific dreams… and I’ll be free to go where I like. Right back here. T’you “ he didn’t quite believe it himself. And it felt cruel to say it when he truly thought about it. But some part of him felt that if he spoke it out loud, maybe it could happen.
But then again. Maybe not.
You didn’t seem convinced. Not at all. That look in your eyes that seemed filled with sadness and longing. Longing for a life he couldn’t give you. Not yet.
“ sounds like a real nice dream “ you said quietly, standing up to grab him a towel to dry off
“ it is darlin. It is. And you keep dreamin’ it cause I will make it happen. I swear it to ya I will “ he wrapped the towel around him and stepped out of the tub, placing his hands on your shoulders “ I will darlin “
You gave him a gentle smile and reached up to brush the backs of your fingers across his cheek, nodding softly
“ I’ll keep dreamin “
As was the usual he ended up in your bed again, desperate to prove his point and show you his true devotion. Purging his sins with his head between your thighs.
His fingers gently traced along your folds, spreading them gently. He groaned as he felt you quiver and twitch under his touch, the feeling and sound making him more and more insatiable. More desperate to please. His thumb ran up and pressed against your clit, rubbing firmly, almost possessively like he was trying to mark the territory as his. Watching your reactions as you squirmed below him, heavenly sounds escaping your mouth.
“ so good Arthur “
Your mewling and whining was like music to his ears, he could listen to it all day. Hearing you moan out your praises only made his tongue move faster, his efforts to bring you to climax increasing. His hands gripping your thighs, using his free hand to push your hips down gently.
It was never about him in those moments. Didn’t care for getting any kind of release himself. He just cared about you. As if doing something so selfless would free him of his vengeful, selfish ways from the last few weeks.
He circled your clit, giving you the attention you needed and wanted from him, making up for his absence with every swipe of his tongue, listening to the pretty moans you made. His tongue swiped across you again and again, licking a strip over your sensitive skin just wanting to touch you everywhere.
Your soft moans and writhing movements were enough to drive him crazy, his hands gripping tightly at your thighs.
“ m’so… Arthur I- “ you spoke brokenly, your hand patting around softly before grabbing onto his “ Arthur “ your soft whimper of his name made him groan hungrily, his fingers instantly lacing with yours
“ right here darlin. Ain’t goin no where “
He hummed softly against you, feeling your muscles tighten under his tongue. He pressed his tongue flat against you, giving a long, slow lick. He was addicted to the taste, he just wanted more of you. Like he couldn’t get enough. Couldn’t get close enough. He groaned softly again, the vibrations of the sound clearly doing you wonders.
He could feel your walls beginning to clench around his tongue as he thrust it inside of you,your hand squeezing down on his and you softly mewled his name over and over. And a few more flicks of his tongue was enough, your back arching from your bed with a high pitched whine. Your thighs clamping around his head making him moan against you, not stopping in his ministrations. Fervently licking and lapping until you went slack, gently pushing at his head.
“ oh Jesus “ you whispered with a soft, breathy laugh “ I don’t know how you’re so good at that “ he smirked softly and crawled back over your body, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
“ you give me enough practice “ he murmured with a smile, tilting your head so that he could kiss you.
“ did you really mean what you said earlier?” You asked quietly as he pulled back, your fingers brushing his hair back from his forehead “ that dream. We’ll really have that some day? “
He looked down at you. So hopeful. So desperate to love and to be loved. By him. He wanted to give you the world. To hand you anything and everything you wanted and needed on a silver platter before you could even ask for it.
Deep down he wished he could. A small, tiny part of him hoping that one day he really could fulfil that desire. Be… normal. A rancher or a farm hand. You, his wife. A kid.
But a louder, but stronger part of him told him he couldn’t. That he’d never really escape. That something would always be in the way. Something would always stop him.
But looking down at you, that loving hopeful look. He couldn’t tell you that.
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