#goodmorgan

[goodmorgan]

Perfect Strangers

Chapter 7: A Surprise to Revisit

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

Series Summary: When a stranger appears at your homestead to steal from you, you set out to help him instead. What follows is a reckless relationship with potentially dangerous outcomes.

Previous Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6)

Chapter Summary: Arthur pays you a surprise visit in Saint Denis that ends in revelations.

Word Count: 4.8K

Tags: 18+. MDNI. NSFW. Smut, Porn With Plot, Mutual Pining, Angst, Infidelity, Oral Sex (m! and f! receiving), Unprotected PinV Sex, Clothed Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Caring and Protective Arthur Morgan

Taglist: @how-the-heck-would-i-know @pinkiec6-rubi @spiritcatcherxo @slumberr67

AO3 Link

A/N: Arthur Morgan just arrived to make Saint Denis hotter

You'd never imagine Saint Denis would be this hot. You'd never imagine it would be this lonely either. It feels vicious to feel both at the same time, your heart racing, either due to one or both. The swell of your chest as you take a deep breath makes the ache seem worse. It's definitely both.

You spent the whole morning getting ready, submerged in a neverending bath that was wasted as you're once again drenched in sweat. The frills of your dress sway with the movement of your quaint fan, not sturdy enough to ease the humidity that swallows you. The draped nuisance would be more tolerable if you weren't wearing a corset, snatched on you so tight it might just make you faint. Your bosoms are partially exposed, waiting to be hidden back once the time comes for you to leave your room and greet your soon-expected guest. You hope the moment never comes.

A gentle movement catches the corner of your eye and you turn to see one of the curtains in your room move, a slight breeze entering through it, a delightful sight as you suddenly leap from your chair to head to the window, hoping to catch it with your bare hands. The minor chill hits your skin and it feels like ecstasy for a few seconds until it goes out the window again, leaving you behind in the boiling room. Impatient, you open the curtains and you see the widow panes are not fully opened, so you press your hands against the glass to open them as far as they can go. They hit the wall with a thud just as you see a man standing in the courtyard, looking up at you, waiting for your return.

The warmth of the day suddenly becomes overwhelming as it hits your cheeks and you see Arthur Morgan staring at you, his hat in his hand and his gun on his belt. His eyes on his face and his lips on his mouth. The ones you've missed so terribly. For a moment you think you're hallucinating as you cease blinking and the breeze stops.

"Missy."

It's really him. Your mind couldn't have imagined how the timbre of his voice would echo in the courtyard, just loud and clear enough to be heard amongst the birds chirping and the distant chaos of Saint Denis. Loud and clear enough to make you recall every moment you have spent with him, wishing to relive them all again. Even as he quiets, you swear you can hear his breath, close enough to feel its warmth on you, just like he'd do every time he'd kiss your neck, your hands, your chin. It takes everything in you not to jump out the window and into his arms. But he's quick to read your mind.

"I'll come up." Arthur places his hat on his head before he disappears below the windowsill and the balcony of the floor below you, but you hear his steps as he begins to climb his way up to you. He reaches the balcony easily before he steps on a tall vase, reaching for the ledge that he walks on to reach your window. Before you know it, his flexed arms carry his weight into your room and they reach out to grab you as soon as his feet hit the floor.

It feels like coming home from a storm.

You bury your face in the crook of his neck as your hands push his torso onto you, breathing him in to discern whether he’s real or not. His arms evolve you as your hands reach for your face, parting the hair on your forehead as he tries to look into your eyes, his own watery from humidity and relief.

"I missed you too, missy."

Your chest swells with gratitude as he continues to study your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks in slow thoughtful motions as he glares at your every feature. You hope yours look as dashing as his, now charred with a light sunburn, perhaps a mark of his trip here. You suddenly see his chapped lips move until they reach your own, tender but hungry, caring but thirsty, and you spend several beats showing how much you've missed each other. His wet tongue finds yours, the only remedy for the devilish heat of Saint Denis.

With so much to be said, you speak so little. Surrendering to the delight of your presence, you hum against one other, echoing murmurs as you roam with your hands and your lips, only stopping when you realize you miss seeing the eyes of the other. Arthur eventually moves to sit on your bed and you sit on his lap. You swaddle tightly against each other between kisses, the room temperature rising drastically.

"Needed to see you, sweetheart." His kisses land on the length of your neck, which you eagerly expose. "Couldn't bear it any longer." His lips dry the sweat on your skin. "I need to have you." His hands reach for the curve of your waist. "Can I have you?"

You snap your neck back as you look into his eyes, nodding lightly as you reach for his lips. "Yes. Take me, Arthur." A small peck seals your answer. "Please."

He grabs your hips forcefully to steady you as he begins to rock you in his lap, his own waist beginning to grind against you, first slowly, then forcefully as he gets excited beneath you. Even through the ruffles of your dress, you can feel him growing against you. It feels heavenly, especially after he begins to kiss your breasts to the beat of his own motions. You feel yourself getting wet for the first time in weeks, probably since the last time you were together like this. You close your eyes in delight as you let out a moan, encouraging him to keep going.

"Mhm, keep singing for me, angel." He squeezes your ass and you hum again. "It's what I came here for." He lowers your chin so his lips can try it. "Came just to have you." Your heart grows as you realize he came all the way to Saint Denis just for you. "Just to have my pretty little angel." Your eyes lower and see the hunger in his eyes. "Only you can take me." He swoops one of his hands to your front until he tightly cups your sex. "Only this will do." He rubs his fingers against your swollen lips and you gasp in need. "You ready for me?" He repeats the motion and you pant louder. "It seems like you are."

Arthur keeps warming your core with his impatient fingers, rubbing steadily as if to see if your wetness will seep through all the layers you're wearing. If he keeps going, it just might. Maybe he wants to make a mess out of you. But then a kiss lands softly on your cheek. "You wanna undress for me, angel?"

He desires you naked, bare for all of his eyes to see, craving the sight he's so desperately been missing. By the way he moves and talks, he's beyond anxious to see and feel himself sink inside you, the only one that can seize him. You're just about to give him all he wants but then you remember why you're so dressed up in the first place.

"Arthur, I can't. I'm expecting company." It took you hours to get ready, twisting yourself into the most expensive dress you have. As much as it pains you, you cannot give all of yourself to him.

"Someone besides me?" His other hand is now reaching below your skirts, trying to reach the place where the other one is playing. You hum against his lips, both as an answer and as a response as he reaches your thigh. "We still got time?"

His fingers reach the seam of your bloomers, pulling them down. He cups your core again, this time without any clothes in the way, and the feeling is so intense that you close your eyes and let out a stifled groan. "Yes. Please."

"Good. The door locked? Or are your guests gonna see us like this?"

You try hard to think for a moment, dizzy with the kneading of his fingers. "Yes, it's locked. No one's here yet."

Despite your quick answer, your heart suddenly aches at the thought of your expected guest walking in on you, watching as Arthur deepens himself inside you while you cry out his name. No, your guest wouldn't like that. Your husband wouldn’t like that at all.

But you don't have time to dwell on it as Arthur suddenly stops fondling you. "Well good, then. We can still have our fun." He picks you up by the waist to have you sit on the bed, kissing you before he steps back to remove his restraints. Your mind goes blank as he unbuckles his belt and reaches for the erection in his trousers, setting out to reach his full potential with gentle steady strokes.

The image is bliss, reminding you of the first time you saw him do it by your fireplace, a man burning to be touched. You suddenly flutter at the thought of seeing him fully. If you can't be naked, maybe he can. "Can I see you? All of you?"

He grins at your words, the smile of a delighted scoundrel. "Sure. Anything for my angel." His stiffness is now enough to sustain itself and it protrudes as he removes his shirt, tan lines visible on his neck and arms, his legs and torso a subtle shade lighter. His nakedness is something to behold, incandescent in the heat of your room in Saint Denis.

He resumes stroking himself, watching as you carefully study him. His grin disappears once he approaches you again, reaching for your face with his other hand, softly caressing your cheek as the lust in his eyes intensifies, no doubt as much as yours, now looking up at him with swollen appetite. "Mhm. So pretty for me to take." He ponders his strategy for a moment. "Wanna taste me first?"

His member hovers close to your mouth, perfectly positioned to answer his request by carrying it out. His tip, as always, is tantalizing and familiar, becoming less bitter with each take. Your lips are now accustomed to his thickness, stretching eagerly as your tongue tastes his desire, hot and improper. You start to take him in deeper when he protests. "Not too much, darling. I still wanna get inside you." It's your cunt he wants to feel most of all, so you settle for sucking his tip just enough to get him puffing a few times. When he's satisfied, now fully formed, he retracts, gently pulling out of you with noise. "That was real good, girl." The appetizer isn't complete. "Can I taste you now?"

His knees are on the floor before he hikes your skirts, waiting for a positive answer. You nod a yes as you feel his hands sliding your bloomers all the way down. He tosses them aside before his head disappears beneath the expensive fabrics and you take a shallow breath before you feel his beard scratch the inside of your thigh. He tries to contain himself, kissing your mound before aiming for lower, your throbbing lips begging for his touch. You grab at the quilt beneath you as his tongue finally swipes your bud, intense and sublime, achy and needy. You can’t distinguish the work of his lips from the work of his tongue as you begin to lose yourself against his prowess. With the way he worked you over your clothes, it’s no wonder you’re so close to coming apart this fast.

Your breathing fastens with each lick and flick, his hands holding your thighs still so he can keep you in place. You try to savor the feeling as you know it’s coming to an end. You keep your eyes shut as you brace for impact. But suddenly, his hands leave you and his mouth follows suit, but you’re too overwhelmed to peek. You’re delighted when you feel pressure on your clit again, although a much different kind. Something stiff now stimulates you. You feel repeated probes pleasuring you, a steady rhythm building your climax again.

Heavily aroused but curious, you open your eyes and see Arthur back on his feet, his head now over your skirt, watching as he steadies your waist with one of his hands. Underneath the fabric, the other hand guides his cock, his hot tip, worked by your mouth, being aimed repeatedly at your core, making you gasp with every motion. It's his own stiffness building your peak, making you clench harder against nothing, your whole body beginning to succumb to madness. Arthur takes notice and he thrusts a few more times before he decides to breach you.

He enters you just as your orgasm arrives, one of his hands now working your clit. His entry is messy as he tries to wrestle against you, pinning you down to stop the jolt of your hips. His head deepens despite the clenching of your walls, the feeling as intense for him as it is to you, expelling deep grunts of satisfaction as he finally gets to his destination. Despite being overstimulated, your whole body cries in ecstasy, with no choice but to bend to his will, even as you gasp for air descending from your peak. Instead of easing on you, Arthur begins to roll his hips against yours, burying himself over and over again, first slow and then incessantly, getting hungry for more the more he fills you. "That's it, missy. Let me feel you." The feeling on your bud subsides as you begin to feel him pulsing on your inside, his speed quickening as he bends over, grabbing one of your shoulders to angle his thrusts. “Be good to me, sweetheart.” You’re not sure what he means until he speaks again. “Be a pretty little miss and come for me again.”

He holds one of your hips in place as his movements become as quick as your breathing. Still trying to recover from your first orgasm, you’re not sure if you’ll be able to come again this fast. But surely enough, you feel a budding sense of urgency approaching again. It’s like he knows you better than you do. “That’s it. Keep going, missy.” His words are muffled by the lewd sounds the joining of your hips is making, becoming faster by the thrust. “That’s what I need.” Suddenly, the end is imminent again. “Give me what I came here for.” A few more times do the trick, as he feels your waves riding his impatient member. Now you don’t just say his name, you shout it, the second time more intense as you feel him go still inside you, savoring your euphoria. “That’s my good missy.”

It takes you a good moment to recover from the release, the movement of your jaw painful as you attempt to put it back in its place. Arthur waits for you to recover for a few seconds before being quick to assign new commands. “Need you to get up, sweetheart. Need to finish.” You’re unsure of how he still hasn’t come after all of your hard work, but you see he’s holding his base tightly so as not to spoil his finish. He instructs you to get on your knees. “Need you to finish me, missy.” He sits where you were laid, spreading his legs apart so you can access him comfortably. You place your hands on his thighs once you’re in place to start. “Take it all now, darling. No need to let it go to waste.”

Arthur clears some of the loose strands of your hair while you carry out his request, your head soon bobbing comfortably to the steady rhythm of his breathing. You know he’s trying to enjoy it but it’s clear he won’t last very long. You add a twisting hand to his base, which speeds the process along. His tip is well at the back of your throat when he begins to unravel, his muscles tensing under your touch. He grabs your hair tightly once he reaches the point of no return. “Oh, fuck, missy.” His voice growls like you’ve never heard it before. If only you could see his every feature now, but you’re too busy doing the swallowing he requested. Once he’s finished, you keep his cock in your mouth until he pulls you away from him. He likes to feel the warmth of your mouth as he wanes.

He keeps holding your hair as he lifts your head to kiss you, tasting his own bitterness on your tongue. You swallow his kiss hungrily as you did his spend, thankful you get to have so much of him again. The kiss extends as he pulls you up onto his lap, your dress now crumpled by the motions of your tryst. You hope your guest doesn't notice.

Arthur, worn out, lays down on the bed and leads you along with him, your body and clothes swaddling his sweaty and naked body, caressing every inch of him you touch. He tries to do the same, seeking solace in the comfort he gives you, showing you how much he cares for you.

“Was that what you came here for?” you ask, somehow afraid he’s gonna say no.

“That was everything and more, sweetheart.” He kisses you tenderly, the wild beast from before suddenly tamed. “I’d travel anywhere just to for a taste of that. Hell, I just did.”

“Well, can you stay?” You brush his hair back, his eyes glowing as bright as the afternoon sun outside. You hope this is a surprise to revisit.

“What about your guests?”

Your stomach turns as you’re reminded your husband will be here soon. “They won’t stay long. I'll be alone tonight.”

Arthur takes a deep breath before he places a gentle kiss on your forehead, a subdued answer for a man still yearning for more. “Tonight then. I’ll come over once the house is quiet.”

“I'll be waiting.” Your smile is as wide as your legs, now anchoring his waist between them.

Arthur grabs a hold of your thigh, his other hand gently squeezing the padding of your rump, the ruffle of your dress loud as he grabs you greedily. "Now don't be wearing no dress. I need to have you properly." His eyes glisten like a petty child who still hasn't had his dessert.

"I won't, don't worry." You reach for his lips reassuringly. "I'll be sure to be wearing nothing at all." You try to attempt a devilish smirk but it's cut short once he deepens the kiss, laying you fully on top of him, your thighs anchoring you over him. His hands hasten their grip on your buttocks as he hungrily feeds from you, his tongue deep within your mouth. The sudden strain of his body tells you he might be getting ready to go again. You might just go with him.

But in your deep emulsion, a loud noise from another part of the house wakes you. It's the undeniable heaviness of the front door slamming shut downstairs, the one that tells you someone has been let in. It must be your husband.

Suddenly panicked, you break from Arthur's lips to whisper slowly: "They're here." His puzzled face eases once he realizes you mean your guests, but he emits a grunt once you leave his body to go to your vanity to freshen up. Your hair is disheveled, and your face is bruised from your passionate romp. You hurriedly try to put everything back in its place, from your knickers to your breasts to your shoes. You try to restore your hairdo in the mirror as you watch Arthur in the corner of your eye, trying his best to get dressed as fast as he can. His cock is half hard again as he puts it back on his bloomers.

You're still fiddling with your hair when he's fully dressed and he catches your gaze in the mirror. "Must be important, these guests of yours, for you to care so much about how you look."

"Oh, believe me. They're not. Not at all." You grab your powder puff so you can attempt to erase Arthur's marks on your cheeks and your neck. "Would rather not see them for the rest of my life if I could."

Arthur places a hand on your shoulder, attentive to how you rebuke your guests. "That so?"

You turn around to face him, certain of what you're gonna say next. "You're the only one that matters to me, Arthur."

Your revelation hangs in the air like sweet mist, his eyes piercing your own as if it's too good to be true. But then he kisses you like he believes you, like he's just heard the only good thing that's ever been said to him. Maybe that's what he came to hear, coming all the way to Saint Denis. You're glad it's off your chest.

The kiss lingers for a while, the air leaving your lungs just as easily as your words left your mouth. He holds your face in his hands as if he's holding the reigns of the tenderness he lost some time ago. "You be sure to get rid of your guests quick, you hear? Don't want you taking shit from nobody." He kisses your forehead again as if to give you the strength you so desperately need. "I'll come over tonight." You fasten the buttons he missed on his shirt, his chest still damp from the exertion of the afternoon. He heads to the window, getting ready to climb down the same path he made on his way up. He hesitates before he disappears. "You matter to me too."

You don't have time to dawdle. Your face is fully powdered when you finally look presentable. The creases in your dress can't be ironed out but they looked worse when you were on the bed. You douse yourself in perfume to camouflage the smell of sex on you. Your lips need no added color, still crimson, still hot from Arthur's kneading them.

You hope you've covered your adulterous ways as much as possible once you reach for the door handle of your room. You feel yourself go numb once you turn it, realizing that not only is it not locked, it was left barely closed. Anybody could have come in. Any of the servants could have heard you from the hall.

You try desperately to shake the feeling that anyone in the house has even an inkling of what has happened between you and Arthur. The best thing will be to assume no one knows anything, to act as if nothing happened. You're just a wife who's late to see her husband, out of breath due to the heat.

Your feet clang is muffled by the carpet as you hurry down the stairs, a few strands of your hair leaving their assigned curls. The excessive smell of your perfume is nauseating, even to you. Your palms are sweaty once you reach the parlor where everybody sits. You apologize for your tardiness, your mouth suddenly dry, still tasting bitter. You realize you forgot to wash it. A swig of brandy would have wiped clean any trace of his cum.

Your husband stands to greet you, his loathsome face reaching for yours as he eyes to get a better look at his absentee wife. He has a few more wrinkles than the last time you saw him, his wickedness shining through at last. You're repulsed when he aims to kiss you, on the lips even.

You just hope he doesn't taste Arthur on your mouth.

---

"You matter to me too."

It's been hours since he said it and yet it must have crossed your mind as many times as there have been seconds. To be away from each other all these weeks has been torture, making you doubt whether everything that happened between you ever took place. Perhaps it was a distant dream, fantasized and tucked away in your house in New Hanover. But everything that happened was real, brought to light with every touch and every word he gave this afternoon, reminding you of the best memories anybody has ever given you. Not only that, you matter to him too.

There couldn't have been a worse day to be distracted. After pleasantries and polite conversation, you and your husband were left alone to discuss the state of your marriage and what little left still ties you. Mostly money. Your husband is bent on staying in Annesburg as his employment in the coal mine continues. Despite trying to elicit you there, you refused, adamant to continue your quaint life in New Hanover. He tried to object but luckily he didn't keep it up for long. He agreed to keep sending your allowance, pretending to act remorseful when he told you he wouldn't be able to visit you for a while.

In fact, he can't even be bothered to spend the night in Saint Denis. Too much work in the mine, he said. You wonder how can a bookkeeper be so busy in such a place. As a whole, things will remain the same. You're free from each other for the time being. After a few miserable hours together, you accompany him to the train station, where he leaves back to Annesburg with nothing but the hope of reunion and the burden of alimony. You don't offer him your lips and show him your cheek instead. They serve a better man now.

The late afternoon is surprisingly cooler as you leave the station and it suddenly seems like the perfect time for a walk. You'll get a good stretch before you get back to your aunt and uncle's house and the money you save on the carriage can buy a cold one at the nearby saloon. There's still some time before supper to enjoy your own company.

The streets seem calm and leisurely as the city unwinds from a hectic work day. There are fewer horses in the streets but people are out to enjoy the soft breeze after such a hot day. The sun is dimming, spent from toiling all day. The colors of the buildings and the parks are lovely, emitting a shade you haven't seen since you arrived. Everything seems picturesque.

"You matter to me too."

But a commotion suddenly breaks up the street that you're walking. Two female voices yell, fast and high-pitched as they jostle against a misplaced man who's trying to steal one of the lady's purse. He wrestles to break the bag free from their hands and when he's successful he takes off at high speed, storming off into the opposite direction. The women yell desperately "Thief! Thief!"

It's a shock to witness such an act during such a pleasant stroll so it takes a few seconds for you to regain your wits. Passersby rush to the women to make sure they're not physically harmed. A few people look around to see if any policemen are around. It's odd that none are nearby. You remember that the police station is right around the corner.

Suddenly your feet are moving and you start racing to the station, hiking your skirts to speed up. After a few fast-moving seconds, you're there, pushing the front doors open and warning the first policeman you see inside. He warns his colleagues before they set off to try to catch the thief, some on foot, some on horseback. Your breath is still hitched when you recover from your daze, relieved you've done your part to help.

"Quite a fright you've had there, I bet." You turn to see an elderly man facing you, holding a ragged mop in his hands. His thick mustache curves as he smiles at you. "Would you like a glass of water, miss?"

You smile back at the kind stranger and you nod as you accept his courtesy. When he puts down the mop and heads inside, something catches your eye on the wall behind him.

At first, they're just posters, but they seem to have drawings of faces, shapes not discernible from where you stand. You get closer to them, curious, and after a few steps one of them comes into full view. It's a familiar face.

$5000 REWARD.

It's the one you refamiliarized yourself with this very afternoon.

WANTED

Your skin is still bruised from his touch.

DEAD OR ALIVE

Your lips are still hot from his tongue.

APPROACH WITH CAUTION

His seed still burns in your stomach.

ARTHUR MORGAN

It seems he matters to someone else too.

---

A/N: This chapter was the reason I started writing this fic! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing!

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan smut #goodmorgan #perfect strangers fic

[shelitaninfa]

#frommysoul #goodday #goodmorgan (en Bavarian Village)

#frommysoul #goodmorgan #goodday

[nava-k]

Baptistery Of St.John. Pisa, 🇮🇹 Italy. Shhh!! #baptisteryofstjohn #instapisa #instaitaly #baptistery #pisabaptistery #pisa #italy #learningtowerofpisa #quiet #instasaturdaymorning #goodmorning #instafashionista #casualstyle #scarf #proud #instacatch #pisaitaly #throughmyeyes #proudmoment #thisfar #worthy #ididit #travelphotography #travelporn #traveldiary #throwback #goodmorgan #go

#quiet #throughmyeyes #throwback #proudmoment #worthy #thisfar #casualstyle #instacatch #baptisteryofstjohn #baptistery #instaitaly #proud #pisa #instasaturdaymorning #instafashionista #ididit #scarf #pisabaptistery #instapisa #travelphotography #goodmorgan #go #goodmorning #travelporn #learningtowerofpisa #traveldiary #italy #pisaitaly

[goodmorgan]

What’s your favorite Arthur smut(s) 👉👈 besides your own of course

Thank you for asking! 💖

Here are some of my recs:

Fics on Tumblr:

Out of Touch by @redemptionbaby

Neighborly Affection series by @verai-marcel

Seven Deadly Sins series by @twola

Loss of virginity by @amorgansgal

Fics on AO3:

The Debt by louderthanbombs

Desire of the Wolf by Talkin_to_a_Lady

The Scenic Route by crispywriter

Please be mindful of each fic's tags and enjoy! :)

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan smut #goodmorgan #fic rec #did i take so long to answer cause i kept rereading them? #yes yes i did #apologies

[goodmorgan]

Perfect Strangers

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

Summary: When a stranger appears at your homestead to steal from you, you set out to help him instead.

Word Count: 6.1k  

Tags: NSFW. 18+. Smut, Porn With Plot, Mentions of Starvation, Masturbation, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, Touch-Starved Arthur Morgan, Mutual Pining, Infidelity

AO3 Link

A/N: This will be a fic consisting of multiple chapters.

Chapter 1: A Man in Need

"Who the hell are you?" you shout as you emerge from your doorstep, pointing your shotgun at his head.

He turns slowly from the apple tree in your front yard, hands now raised to his sides. He swallows nervously like a schoolboy caught in the act as the apple he was holding lands swiftly on the ground. He's tall enough to reach the highest branches with ease, the only ones you've yet to pick clean as you're too lazy to get the ladder.

"I'm... I'm sorry, ma'am." He looks at you pleading with his eyes, one of them almost as black as his boots. His exposed hands and forearms are bruised but healing, you reckon the fight he was in must have been a few days ago. His shirt and pants look like they've been slept in for days, the dirt and the grass staining them worse than the sweat. He is wearing an old leather hat, which frames his chiseled face perfectly, tilted enough so you can see his piercing blue eyes. They might be telling you he is a kind man if it were not for the fact that you've caught him stealing.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" You try to pretend you're not frightened by the hooligan now standing in your property. You hope your voice is as demanding as his presence.

"Please don't shoot, ma'am. I'm... I'm sorry. I just..."

"You what?" You cock the shotgun with authority.

"I'm- I'm just... I'm so... hungry." His voice quivers as he utters the last word, barely audible. He looks embarrassed to admit it but hopes his honesty is enough to save him from an early grave. He holds still as a sign of cooperation. His manner seems genuine to you, his confession matching his appearance.

You hold your position as you ponder what to do next. The both of you are still enough that you can hear the fire in your hearth inside. You have just finished peeling the potatoes so you can add them to the stew you're making. You were hoping to have enough leftovers for tomorrow, but you guess there's enough dinner for two.

"Do you have any weapons?" You don't lower your voice or your shotgun.

"Just a pocketknife, ma'am." The man seems truthful.

"Throw it." He obeys and the knife lands by your feet on the porch. You pick it up and pocket it next to yours.

"You have anything else?"

"No, ma'am. Just some cigarettes." He reaches for one of his pant pockets and retrieves them, dropping them on the floor. He shows you the other pocket is empty before being quick to remove his boots, showing you he has nothing to hide. His hands return to his sides once he's finished.

"Would you like some food?"

He takes a breath and swallows air at the mention of it. "Yes... Yes, ma'am. Very much so." The threat of the stranger subsides as you now realize you are standing in front of a famished man. You slowly lower your shotgun from your dinner guest. His hands remain upright as he waits for instructions.

"Put your boots on. I need to get inside to finish dinner."

"Yes, ma'am." He is quick to stand in front of you, waiting for permission to climb the stairs. Even with you standing on the porch, he's almost as tall as you. Up close, he's even more handsome than you had realized.

"What's your name?"

"Morgan. Arthur Morgan, ma'am." He tips his hat awkwardly. His gaze is weary but pleading for compassion.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Morgan. My name is Y/N. Please come in. I reckon there's enough food for the both of us." As he climbs the stairs he looks at you like he's being invited to a Saint Dennis' banquet. "Now, don't go thinking it's anything fancy. I don't have much."

"Anything you can give me I'll be grateful till the day I die." He seems just as obedient without a shotgun pointed at him, even though he towers over you. He carries himself with an undeniable raw magnetism, slightly undercut by a sensible restraint, a quiet but powerful virility. You are not immune to its immediate effects.  

"Well, don't die just yet. Don't need any dead bodies on my property." He tries to pretend to be amused but he can only muster an exhale, looking down at you, staring, mouth agape. You're now so close you swear you can smell the whole forest on him. You start to map out the details of his features like constellations in the night sky. You almost reach out your hand to touch them.

You turn around to enter your cottage just as the idea overtakes you. You realize, under the right circumstances, you might be as obedient to him as he's been to you.

"Would you like some water?" you say as you head straight for the kitchen, already reaching for a glass to serve him. His "yes, ma'am" is barely out before he downs the whole glass, letting out slurping noises of urgency and relief. You serve him a few more times before his chugs quiet down and his thirst is quenched. He removes his hat to reveal his sweaty temple and his luscious caramel hair.

"There is a vanity inside if you'd like to wash up while I finish dinner."

"Thank you." He heads towards your bedroom while you put down your shotgun and get the potatoes. Your two-room cottage is quite small, so you can hear him wash while stirring the stew. Water sloshes in the bowl for sometime before it stops. He struggles with something for a while before you hear the brief unzipping of his pants, the quick fastening of his buckle.

He takes his time but he emerges clean, his skin glowing bright by the light of the fire. He has groomed and rearranged his clothes to appear more presentable, his sleeves buttoned and his collar smoothed. He has tucked in his shirt, doing his best to hide the noticeable blood stains. His hair is swept back, you can tell he spent some time trying to comb it with his fingers. He holds his hat in his hands, fidgeting with the brim, patiently waiting for your command, looming over you as you cook. By the attentive way he's looking at you, you wonder if your attraction is reciprocated.

"Nearly done, Mr. Morgan." You raise from the fire to cool yourself as the room heats up with his presence. "I'll just set the table. Take a seat." He watches as you place some of your finest dishes and cutlery, arranging it all as well as you can to impress your guest. You soon pour the meaty stew onto your plates.

He stares at the food on the table for a little while, his mouth salivating at the sight. You figure he hasn't eaten anything for days now, surviving on whatever the forest gifted him. Whatever it was, surely not enough for a man of his stature. He moans after he takes his first bites, each one louder than the last. He tries to eat slowly but soon gives it up, ditching any pretense of civility in favor of sustenance. He holds the spoon for the stew in one hand while holding bread in the other, fetching for more of the other as he eats either one.

You try to eat your own meal as you become enraptured by the spectacle. His animalistic mannerisms are oddly captivating and leave little to the imagination. His piercing blue eyes raise from the food to eye you from time to time, ravishing you as he does his meal.

Arthur is on his fourth plate of stew before he begins to slow down. All the bread you had is gone, much to your regret. After you serve yourself a second helping, you drop the ladle and hear it echo in the nearly empty pot. You finish your meal by you reaching for some fruit for dessert, the last of the apples you were able to reach. You place one in front of Arthur just as he finishes scooping up the last of the liquid on his plate.

"I'm sorry I stole from you." He hangs his head in regret.

"Well, you didn't eat it. So I guess you didn't steal it." The peel of your apple lands as a perfect spiral on your plate.

"You're very kind for feeding me."

"I'd like to think that if the situation were reversed, you'd feed me too."

"I'd be honored if you'd let me repay you, ma'am." You know he means it.

You reach inside your pocket and take out Arthur's pocketknife before you hand it to him. "I'll have to think of something." He grabs the knife and begins to peel the apple as you did. "For now, I think I'll just hear your story."

You're on your second whiskey when you pour Arthur his third, relieved you opened the least expensive bottle. It'll be some time before Arthur gets tipsy given what he's eaten. You, however, have reached your limit.  

He's been telling you about how he was ambushed on the road a few days back. O'Driscolls, he says. A group took him into the forest to beat him and left him to die with just some cigarettes in his pocket, no matches. The hunger wouldn't have been so bad if they hadn't left him without a coat to keep him from the cold. He was losing hope when he stumbled onto your homestead and saw your apples.

You tell him little about yourself and he doesn't inquire much, thinking it's best not to pry. But he keeps staring at you with those hungry eyes of his and you wonder if he can see there's hunger in you too.

When the conversation dies, he rises from his chair to squat by the fire, reaching for a burning twig to light one of his cigarettes. You stare at his broad back, barely covered by his thinly stretched shirt. You wonder how your hands compare to it in size. Perhaps he has constellations on his back that you can map out too. You'd work your way upward, tracing lines with your fingers between his freckles and scars all the way up to his neck, finishing by feeling his big shoulders under your small hands. You'd be interrupted by him swinging you around so he can face to kiss you, passionately and without remorse. He would plant his own large hands on your small shoulders as you feel the weight of his full desire bearing down on you. You'd grab his shoulders again as he enters you.

He rises back to his chair, interrupting your fantasy. "You saved a man from death today, miss. I'm very grateful."

"Well, you just make sure you get some rest tonight. There's plenty of fire to keep warm. And more whiskey too." You lift the bottle to pour him more but he declines. "In the morning, you can take my horse into town. See if you can get in touch with your folks."

"Oh, I can't take more of your generosity, miss."

"Why not? I insist! I won't need the horse for a few days. I might have some money I can lend—"

"I can't possibly accept that, miss." The idea almost offends him.

"Fine, I won't lend you the money. So you'll take the horse then?" You smile as you trick him into charity.

He sighs. "Well, I guess I will." He looks rather defeated.

"Ok, good." You get up. "Now, you stay where you are while I go get linens to make your bed." You rush to your bedroom before he has a chance to object.

You haven't noticed how dark it has gotten until you see the moonlight illuminating your room, bright enough that you can see your way to your dresser. You light the lamp above it and notice the water in the vanity, muddied with dirt and old blood. The towel he used is neatly folded and placed on the dresser, the act of a thoughtful guest. You pick it up to place it with your dirty laundry and you catch a sniff of his smell in it. A mist of wood, grass, and sweat. Without a thought, you linger on it.

You look at your made-up bed and imagine what it would be like to have it drenched with his smell, his sweat staining the sheets after his vigorousness. You wonder if he'd be as loud as he was during dinner or if he would grow quiet, intensely concentrating on his pleasure. Or maybe he'd focus on yours, his lips seducing yours, first above your waistline and then below. Either way, you'd wrap your legs around him, savoring the feeling. You'd grab his shoulders once he'd surface, the two of you connected at the hips, colliding into each other. Afterward, you'd rest in his arms, his broad back taking up most of your mattress. You'd wash the dirty sheets in the morning but they'd still have traces of him. Just like you.

You wake from your stupor when you remember Arthur is outside, waiting for his actual bed to be made. You take from the armoire a blanket and a spare pillow and you wonder if he'll be able to fit in your old davenport. He most certainly will not. He could always take your bed.

You find him standing by the door as if he's leaving. Not courageous enough to leave without a goodbye. He jolts when he sees you emerge from the bedroom.

"Where are you going?"

"Look, miss, maybe it's best if I be on my way. I can walk from here. I'll come back to repay you for your trouble." He looks at you like he's scared of what will happen if you let him stay. You suspect that his head is filled with impure thoughts too, now that the hunger in his eyes is deeper.

"But it's already nighttime. There's no point in leaving now." Please don't leave, you think. You could make it worth his while.

"It ain't proper to bother you no more. Especially a woman by herself."

"It's no bother. Or improper, to help a man in need. Besides, I told you you can borrow my horse in the morning."

"I can't accept that."

"Seriously, Mr. Morgan, take what you need." You go to place the linens on the davenport, which is definitely too small for him.

“I think I've taken enough from you, ma’am.”

When you turn around you see Arthur has already opened the door and is on his way out. You rush to him and without thinking you grab his forearm and force him to turn, his figure filling your doorway, illuminated by the moonlight. He looks down at you, surprised by your boldness, his eyes burning with lust. You feel his heartbeat quicken in your hand.

You're brave enough to caress him with your thumb. "Don't go, Arthur."

He doesn't recoil and looks down at you, clearly wanting to accept your proposition. "It's been a while," he admits. He seems so timid yet so needy.

"Me too."

He hesitates for a few seconds before he finally reaches down to kiss you. His plump lips land on yours, softer than any kiss you could imagine him giving. It's powerful enough to titillate every part of you. You catch the smell of your soap on his skin as he presses closer to you. After a moment, he withdraws, still unsure of himself.

You reassure him again. "Take what you need."

You lose grasp of his wrist and feel both his hands reaching to the sides of your neck. He kisses you deeply now, pushing your lips apart to make room for his. You taste the cheap whiskey you served him when the tip of his tongue reaches yours. You grab onto his shoulders, trying to steady yourself as the pleasure intensifies. They're bigger than you imagined.

You lose yourself in his passion, malleable to his sudden force as he begins to overpower you, wrapping his arms around you while his tongue wraps around yours. He finally starts to take what he needs. You receive what you need, too.

Once he eases on you for a moment, you take the chance to lead him to your bedroom, anxious to enact the dirty daydream you just had in there. He follows your trail while kissing and caressing you, getting more confident as he escalates, gradually lowering his hands, from your face to your shoulders, then to your waist, and to your hips, ecstatically enveloping you. You're by the bed when you feel yourself vibrating with lust for the man that's touching you, getting wetter by the minute.

When your back hits the armoire, his pelvis runs into you and you feel his length already hard against you. You lean into him, savoring the sensation, and you guide his hands to your ass, which he grabs greedily, making you sway closer to him. Both of you exchange gasps in each other's mouths. Like at dinner, he sounds louder with every bite.

As much as it pains you, you slightly push Arthur back to start speeding things along. He watches as you begin to work your blouse, opening the buttons you fastened this morning. If you had known how aroused you'd be tonight, you would never have picked the blouse with so many buttons. You were hoping to strip for him, but your fingers are now clammy from the excitement, so you need an extra hand.

"Help me out, would you?"

He reaches for the button you're trying to undo, the one right between your breasts. Once he has access inside, he gets distracted by the visible part of your tits, already peeking through your chemise. He moves his fingertips over them, touching them delicately. The sensation feels like lightning to you and you let out small whispers of delight. You get louder once you feel his whole hand reaching under the chemise, softly cupping a whole breast, his palm now stimulating your nipple.  

The sensation makes you melt under his touch. In return, you lower your hand to reach the growing erection under his pants, making him draw out a loud groan of satisfaction. You watch as Arthur closes his eyes as you continue to massage him, fully riveted by the sensation. The big size on your hand leaves you no less breathless.

It evidently becomes too overwhelming for him and he abruptly stops you and removes his hand. In a strangled voice, he leans into your ear to whisper. “I think I need another whiskey.”

He goes out the door and you watch as he heads to the table, pours himself a drink and downs it with a frustrated grunt. He pours another, trying to settle his nerves, concentrating on avoiding a premature release. You figure it must be a long while since he's been touched by a woman. His erection must be painfully throbbing by now. He probably has no idea how arousing this is.

You go back in the room to open the drawer of your dresser. You cut the rest of the buttons of your blouse with your scissors, you can always saw them back later. You're finally free to undo the rest of your blouse and remove your skirt and chemise, finally naked and free. You return to your bedroom door to tell Arthur the good news.

You find him staring at the fire as it dies down, the drink still on the table nearby. His shirt has now been removed and so has his modesty, it seems. You watch as he unbuckles his pants and frees himself, at last holding his stiffness in his hand. He takes a moment before he starts pumping, languidly stroking his length while letting out small sounds of relief.

You marvel at the sight of the cowboy letting loose, so you decide not to disturb him. You get wetter at the realization that he's touching an arousal you helped build. Unable to contain yourself, you reach for your own sex, trying to find some much-needed relief. For a few moments, you both touch each other to the same lazy rhythm.

“I can help with that, you know?” You come out of the bedroom once you reach your limit, desperate for his touch.

Arthur freezes in place when he sees you standing there, now fully naked with your hair down. You could swear his cock shifts in his hand at your sight. You join him by the fire and, without permission, you resume his handiwork on your own fist while he lets out his audible approval. He huffs louder when you reach for his tip.

When he seems to unfreeze, he cups one of your breasts, as if to steady himself. He lightly massages your nipple with his thumb as you continue to work on his length.

You continue pumping him, fastening the pace as you feel him panting under you and see him close his eyes. You stop before things get out of control, which brings him back to the room.

"Let's get to bed," you suggest.

You lead him inside until you sit on the edge of the bed. It's now your turn to wait for instructions. But you pick up on some of his earlier hesitation, a man worried about unloading himself on you.

“Take me.” Your tone is almost a pleading one. "Take me, Arthur."

The sound of his name on your lips is enough to rouse him. What follows next is utterly exhilarating as he makes you lie fully on the bed, his hands pushing your shoulders down while his cock presses on your stomach. Once he rises, he instructs you. "Spread your legs for me, girl." You do as your told, trembling at his sudden domineering voice.  

You watch as he stands looming over you, his cock fully erect and twitching with need, an erotic image you won't soon forget. He takes a moment to look at you, spread out with your legs hanging, your core exposed. He's surely saving a picture for himself too.

"Mmm so pretty for me." He reaches down and parts your folds. "So wet for me, too." He drags his index up and down, watching as you writhe under the sensation. You wish that he would linger further on your clit but instead he grabs your hip with one hand and puts the other on his length, aligning the head at your entrance, wetting it with your slick. It's both completely thrilling and not enough at the same time.

"You gonna take me good, girl?" He grips your hip more forcefully. You nod for him as you prepare yourself for what's coming. You hold your arms to the side, just like he did when you were pointing the shotgun at him. Just like him, you surrender.

He enters you messily as he hurries inside, clearly impatient to start. He groans loudly and sloppily, almost like a teenager. You cling to the sheets beside you as you take him, adapting to the feeling of being completely filled. Once he's inside, he takes a second to adjust, clearly savoring being inside another woman again.

"Mmm, so good and tight, girl. Fuck. Fuuuck!"

Once he's fully buried in you, he loses no time and begins to thrust, starting off faster than you expect. He looks at you with unapologetic lust. It takes you some getting used to his rhythm and size, but something about his hungry demeanor arouses you enough to dissipate any discomfort. You soon begin to experience a type of pleasure you haven't felt in a long while.

You can't help but let out whatever moan comes out of you, as your senses surrender to to the hooligan now overpowering you. You have quenched his thirst, relieved his hunger and now you're satisfying his most carnal need. Each time he has repaid you with the most obscene noises and lascivious stares. You hope you're repaying him back in the same way.

His thrusts become erratic, a man in desperate need of release. You try to do your best to please him further, but there's not much you can do once he controls both your hips with his hands, allowing him to bury himself as deep within you as possible. When he further angles down on you, you feel more pressure on your clit, wrapping your knees around him, pressing for more.

His pacing is now reckless as he tries to satisfy his hunger, dripping with sweat over you. You're completely enthralled as this complete stranger fucks you so greedily under the cover of night. You feel yourself getting closer to some edge you barely even knew existed.

By the manner he fucks you, you figure his long-held repression will not make him last long, so you're dismayed but not surprised when you feel him approaching his climax. You haven't reached yours yet, even though you know you're very close. You wish he holds on a little longer, but it's too late once you hear him huff with even less discretion and you feel his muscles tensing around you.

Arthur pulls out of you before he comes, spilling white ropes all over your stomach, stroking his own cock to finish. It's a long and deep orgasm, one he's been needing for sometime. He remains in his position, still holding his cock, mouth opened and eyes closed as he comes down from his high. He goes limp, landing next to you with a thud, exhausted and with his eyes closed, unable to move.

Arthur's climax is no doubt the most erotic one you've ever witnessed and the arousal it creates in you is only a burden once you realize you still haven't orgasmed yourself. You get up to fetch a clean towel, cleaning his spill off of yourself and you watch as he lays there, eyes still closed. His chest begins to settle as his breathing calms.

You get back in bed and kneel beside him, your eyes surveying every part of his incredible physique, his cock now semi-hard after being inside you. You rub two of your fingers in your wetness before you place them on your clit and move them in circles to find your pleasure again. You're still very aroused and it's not long before you feel the beginning of your climax again. You keep staring at Arthur, his body reason enough to titillate you further. You look at his length, already missing having it inside you, so you slip a couple of fingers in you. They're not even close to replacing him but they provide enough pressure to continue building your peak.

You keep watching him and keep thinking of him thrusting into you when you start to let out sharp whimpers, panting as you inch closer to release. They're loud enough to make Arthur wake from his exhaustion and you watch as he props himself up on his elbows, enjoying the view of your self-gratification. But just watching isn't enough for him.

"Let me."

He places his fingers on top of yours, which are now circling your clit at a fast pace. You let him learn the rhythm of the motion and then you remove your hand, squirming as you feel him directly pleasuring you. It happens just in time as it's only a moment until you finally come, erupting wildly under his unyielding touch. He works you through your orgasm until you finally collapse next to him, unconsciously searching for his chest and placing your semi-lucid head there.

You feel him wrap you in his arms, caressing your back as your breathing eases. "That was beautiful, girl."

When you open your eyes after a while, you notice the lamp in your room has gone out and the both of you are now bathing in the moonlight, only accompanied by the sounds of the surrounding forest. You soon notice Arthur's deep breathing under you and you realize he must have fallen fast asleep, exhausted from the ordeal of the past few days, enjoying the safety of your bed. A man now fed, fucked and sheltered.

Although you don't want to, you slowly remove yourself from him. You cover him with your quilt but not before gazing at his full body again, already missing it on top of you. You move to the side of the bed he doesn't occupy, small enough to have you lay on your side by his side. You fall asleep to the sound of his deep loud breathing. Two perfect strangers satiated in the moonlight.

—

It's a regular morning for you, waking up alone in your bed, eyes opened and staring at the wooden ceiling. But this time you feel your insides a little sore, a welcomed reminder of last night. You turn to look at Arthur's place, now empty but his outline still visible on the sheets. You map it with your fingers as you wonder where he is, still burning with the memory of him inside you.

You get up and dress in clean clothes you pick from your dresser, a simple blouse and skirt with fewer buttons, pretty enough that he might like. You tie up your hair in your usual practical bun. You douse some expensive perfume on your neck, a small strand running between your breasts.

You guess it is about seven by the morning's light outside. You step into the porch as you watch Arthur next to the apple tree, in the same spot where you found him yesterday. He's picking the remaining apples on the top and placing them on a basket. The sight of his chiseled body under his clothes is enough to flare the arousal you thought you'd extinguished last night.

He sees you when he retrieves the last apple, perched over a lower branch. He brings you a full basket with a small grin on his face, a man whose basic needs seem to have been entirely fulfilled.

You can't help but smile too. "You stealing from me again, are you?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, miss. Thought I'd finish what I started and get them down for you." He sets the basket at your feet, like an ancient priest offering it to a deity. "Now no one can try to steal them again."

"Wouldn't want any competition, huh?" You tease him as he approaches you, his hands on his hips, sweat running down his brow.

He licks his lips before answering. "No, ma'am. Wouldn't dream of it."

"You hungry?"

"I'm still full after last night."

You giggle slightly at his insinuation before you lead him back into your kitchen to prepare breakfast.

Arthur helps make coffee while you prepare the bacon, eggs and sausages. The meal feels a little off without some bread, but you barely notice in the presence of your company.

Arthur is telling you an amusing story involving a donkey on his passing through Armadillo, letting you peek inside his previous life before he made it to New Haven. It pleases you that he is a traveling man, besides clearly being a resourceful one. He grows quiet when you ask him what he does for a living. You busy yourself with the dishes to dispel the tension brought on by the vague answer he gives.

He gets up to help you clear the rest of the dishes on the table. "I best get going if I'm gonna make it to Valentine before noon."

The mention of him leaving stings you. "You can go get Amber. She's on the stable out back. She's real friendly."

"May I?" Arthur points to the basket of apples and when you nod he grabs two of them, taking a big bite out of one. You see him drool a little before he walks out the door.

You busy yourself with the dishes before he comes back. All the while you feel a pang in your stomach as you think about him leaving, wishing you could spend the night together again. Flashes of last night burst into your consciousness, making you relieve it deliciously. You feel yourself filled with lust again before it's even eight in the morning.

When you catch Arthur leading Amber to your yard, you realize that if he's a man of his word he'll have to come back to return her safely back to you. Maybe you'll cook dinner for him again. Maybe he'll take you once again. You head out for the yard with your mind made up to ask him to come back.

"It's a nice trotter you got here. Well fed too." He pets her neck, much to her delight, and he feeds her the other apple he grabbed. "That's a good girl." His wording sounds like an echo from last night.  

"She like carrots too. I've put some inside, some beans and corn for you too. Don't want you going hungry again." You hand him a satchel you've prepared for his journey into town.

"Much obliged." He nods in thanks and places it on his shoulder, which barely shifts at the weight of it. He steps forward as he begins his goodbye, halting just as he hovers above you.

"I'm very grateful to you, miss. For everything." He whispers the last part as a dirty little secret that only you two share.

"Well, I'm glad I could be of help." You fidget with your fingers, too afraid to ask him to stay, too cowardly to say goodbye.

"I'll come back to bring Amber. And to repay you. I promise." He emphasizes the last part like it's a sacred vow.

Arthur lingers over you and you wait for his next move. It looks like he's going kiss you goodbye but instead he takes a few steps back and mounts Amber instead. He gives you one last look and one last nod before he urges her to trot and you watch as he gallops out of view. His absence leaves you cold and sullen, mended only by the promise of his return.  

You decide not to spend the day wallowing, instead being grateful for the night of passion you just experienced. You set out to do the remainder of your chores before you resume your knitting. When you finish with the kitchen, you tidy up the rest of the living room. You put away the nearly empty bottle of whiskey. You relight the fire in the hearth. You put away the linens on the sofa that have been sitting there all night, unused.

You turn around in your bedroom to find the bed still unmade, his outline still traceable. You go to remove the quilt from the bed when it hits you. You catch a whiff of his smell again, this time all over your sheets, right where he had you. You catch a few stains of dried sweat where both of you laid, asleep and awake. Traces of his spend and your slick. It's his pillow that most delights you as it smells so intensely of him, it's almost like he's there again.

Like he's there again, pushing you downward, telling you to spread, filling you whole. So pretty for me. Taking you, over and over. So good and tight, girl. Fuck. The memory is too strong for you to resist it, so you lay down again, right where he had you. You use your fingers to try to mimic his movements and vigor. You cannot match them, but they are enough to make you come again, this time while he's still inside you, and you repeat his name out loud as you do it. You lay your head on his pillow as you come down to earth again. That was beautiful, girl. You remember his promise to come back, the possibility of him taking you again surely enough to power you until his return.

It's midmorning when you decide to get up and finally change the sheets, as much as it pains you to lose his scent. You decide to leave his pillow untouched, a souvenir of your unexpected affair, now lying atop the fresh bed linens.

You set out to do the laundry, hoping it dries with the afternoon sun. You wash the sheets first, then your clothes and undergarments, followed by the towels. You take a second to look at the embroidery you stitched on the hand towel you used to clean Arthur's seed off of you.

It's only when you see his initials that you think of your husband. 

--

A/N: Already working on chapter 2! Feedback is welcomed!

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fanfiction #goodmorgan

[goodmorgan]

Perfect Strangers

Chapter 6: A Ride to Remember

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

Series Summary: When a stranger appears at your homestead to steal from you, you set out to help him instead. What follows is a reckless relationship with potentially dangerous outcomes.

Previous Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

Chapter Summary: Your relationship with Arthur deepens over the course of several weeks, when vows are made and lessons are taught.

Word Count: 13K

Tags: 18+. MDNI. NSFW. Smut, Porn With Plot, Mutual Pining, Angst, Fluff, Infidelity, Oral Sex (m! and f! receiving), Unprotected PinV Sex, Cowgirl, Semi-public Sex, First Times, Possessive Arthur Morgan

Taglist: @how-the-heck-would-i-know @pinkiec6-rubi

AO3 Link

A/N: I am soooooo sorry for taking this long to finish this chapter. But I've been through somethings in the past few months I hope you understand. To make it up for you, chapter is extra long with tons of smut! It's divided in several parts to ease reading.

You've never been on top before. None of your past lovers ever thought of letting you take charge, much less suggest you actually do it. So when Arthur asked if you could, it took you very much by surprise.

"Think you can handle it, missy? Hmm?" His eyes glimmer with a devilish spark as he invites you into his lap, his back leaned against the headboard of your bed. He squeezes the inside of your thigh in encouragement as you kneel by his flank.

"I think so." You hesitate, unsure if you'll be able to please him in a position you have no experience in. But then you look at his lustful eager eyes and you know you'll never be able to say no. And you have to admit, the idea of riding him has you pretty aroused yourself.

"Come on. I'll help ya."

His back temporarily leaves his rest as his hands reach the side of your waist, guiding you up as you climb over his legs, sitting atop his strong bulky thighs. Your core settles right in front of his fully hard cock, now slicked with his precum as it lies on his stomach, impatient for more after you've spent the last few minutes stroking it. You feel yourself twitching uncomfortably with titillation at the thought of taking it all in.

He removes one hand from you to catch the base of his member, tilting it up, ready for you to mount. "No need to rush, darling. Take your time." He means to put you at ease despite his obvious excitement as the mischief in his smile deepens, the tip of his tongue sneaking out, making you even more eager to start.

You settle your hands on top of his chest, pressing down for support as you raise your rear, angling your entrance above the tip of his cock as you kneel again. Arthur's hand tightens as you hover above him and soon enough you feel him prodding between your folds. You look at him to ask if you can go ahead.

"Easy does it, darling." His thumb caresses the side of your belly to relax you, but you feel his cock shift below you in ardent anticipation.

You move slightly downwards, enough to feel his member peek inside, stretching your opening to make your breath hitch. Arthur removes the hand from his cock, aiding you in your lowering motion with both hands on your hips, supporting your weight so you don't plunge too fast. Inch by inch you lower yourself as you take all of him inside you, your walls stretching in welcomed gratification. Both of you emit soft grunts of pleasure as Arthur's chest vibrates under your fidgety hands. You try to keep your eyes on each other as they flutter from the delightful feeling of carnal intimacy.

Your buttocks finally rest against his thighs when he finally fills you to the hilt. "Oh, fuck, missy." He grabs your ass greedily, as if to reward you for sheathing him inside you, his eyes darting to where your bodies meet. You peer down as you see your soft curls now tangled conspicuously with his. "Don't think I'll ever get used to you taking me like this."

You try to adjust to his large size as you coat him with the wetness he pried from you while fingering you earlier. You mirror his cheeky but sweet smile. "Maybe we just gotta practice a little more."

He chuckles as your hands move aimlessly all over his chest, warming him up before you move. His fingers lightly squeeze your behind to do the same. "I reckon we should. I doubt I'll ever get used to it though."

"Won't hurt to try." Your fingertips brush the area of his nipples. "I'm willing if you are."

"Yeah?" He raises a hand to your face to caress the side of your cheek with his thumb, biting down on his own lip. "Wanna show me how willing you are?"

He's ready to start when you are.

You rush your hands to the sides of his navel, moving your thumbs to pet the area below, twirling some of the black hairs you saw before. The teasing is enough to make the member inside you move and suddenly all you want to do is to countermove. "Seems I'm not the only one willing, am I?"

The first roll of your hips is barely visible but both of you feel it as his cock shifts gently against your walls, a satisfying taste of what's to come. He gets hungry for more as he lowers his hand to join the other, now blending his fingers with the curve of your hips. You take the chance to move them again, this time more noticeably as your folds almost touch the knuckles of your fingers, still skimming the sensitive skin of his groin.

It's the loud exhale he gives you that makes you start to lose your shyness, wanting to hear the sweet noises he makes for you over and over again, even if it's at the expense of your poise. You move your waist more forcefully, nudging yourself closer to his stomach, making you both puff out in delight. Each drag of your hips comes slow and gentle, but you can feel the gradual build of the fire in your core as you try to resist the urge to go too fast too soon.

"That's it, missy. You got it." His fingers press against your soft flesh as he assists your back-and-forth movements, the lechery of his eyes intensifying. "Keep going like that for me, angel."

His encouraging words only enflame your state of yearning, so you pick up the pace a little, moving your hands up to flatten them on his chest. As you move to the new angle, you fortuitously brush your clit against his pubic bone, the feeling so sublime you let out a whine of surprise and elation. You have no choice but to repeat it again, the result only more divine as you let your mouth hang.

"You like that, huh?" He grabs you more vigorously as you start to grind him wantonly.

You look into his eyes again, unsure if this is what he had planned when he asked you to be on top, wondering if he's enjoying it. "This alright?"

"Oh, it's perfect, missy." He lifts himself up to plant an affectionate kiss on your lips, his gaze even darker now. "Take what you need, darling."

His approval is all you require to move your hands even higher, clutching hungrily at his shoulders as your sensitive nub lies even flatter against his skin, the rubbing now so intense it keeps you from staying silent and cogent. You revel in your all-encompassing passion as you feel your walls fluttering against his own responsive arousal, filling you with the overwhelming sense that you are getting closer to the brink of endless wonder.

"Keep going, sweetheart. Almost there."

Arthur's sweet encouragement brings you back to a surprising state of awareness. You've only been intimate a few times, but they seem to have been enough for Arthur to learn when you're reaching your edge, aware of the effect his coaxing words have on you, prying a release from you every single time. Even when it's his choice of position, he still helps you rut yourself over him, making sure you chase your pleasure to completion first.

You must have slowed down your movements as he's compelled to spur you on. "Don't stop, missy. Not now. Keep going." His hands shove your weight forward to pick up the pace again. "Be my good girl and come around me." His wish is your command as you start to move unrestrained against him, your eyes closing shut as delectation devours you. "Come on. Need you to do this. Need to feel you, angel." His fingers bury themselves on your hips as he pushes you over the brink of deliverance. "Let me feel you feel good."

Your climax is heaven on earth as you arch back into the air, your head tilting back in victorious ecstasy as it hangs dreamily on cloud nine. In a thrilling change of pace, you soar up rather than sink your pleasure into the constriction of a worn-out mattress or the bumpy surface of a bale of hay. The only thing anchoring you is the firm build of Arthur between your thighs.

Your hands leave Arthur's shoulders to an aimless destination as you feel his own reach for your back, helping you ride your wave of pleasure, placing soft conciliatory kisses around your chest. Low soft grunts still leave your slack mouth when you slowly open your eyes, feeling your chest puff against an obstruction. When you look down, you see Arthur's face buried between your breasts, sucking gently at your damp skin. You take the opportunity to rest your head against his, feeling him hum with appreciation as he wraps you tightly in his arms.

It's a while before he comes up for air and even then he chooses to kiss your lips instead, his tongue still wet from nuzzling your bosom, hurried inside without ceremony. Rather than letting you come down from your high, it sustains itself with the extension of his enveloping kiss, making you tangle yourself against him in pure bliss.

"That was great, missy." His face slants to look up at yours as elated as you are, drunk on your own rapture as if it were his.

You take the chance to move slightly as you resettle on his lap, your core still sensitive as you brush against him. His member still pulses inside you and you're reminded of the pleasure you still have to bestow him. "It ain't over yet, cowboy." You push his shoulders to make him lean back against the bed, feeling very little resistance as he realizes it's his turn now, giving him a peck on his lips when he settles. "Show me what you had in mind."

His face turns somber, his eyes grow darker and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows your words, preparing to quell the overbearing lust running through his veins. His hands move to their previous place on your hips before you cover them with your own, encouraging him to move you however he desires. You feel the ridge of his knuckles shift as his fingers begin to knead your bruising flesh, his grip tightening as he finally starts to roll you against him. It's not long before your speed hastens and your pulse quickens again, needing to brace yourself on his shoulders, allowing close contact between your loose lips.

"Christ, missy. You're so good to me. You know that?" The meshing of your hips turns noisier by the second as they begin to slam into each other, his hands now directing you in up-and-down thrusts. "I oughta keep ya all to myself."

His member slides easily in and out of you with the blend of your fluids, his release approaching as he repeatedly hits your magical spot, both of you panting from renewed exhilaration.

Arthur keeps his eyes on you as if he's realizing something, you practically see a question form with the furrow of his brow. Suddenly he slows you down, limiting your thrusts without stopping them entirely. You know he's about to ask you something important if he's delaying his own release for it.

"You sleeping with anyone else?"

The question catches you by surprise, but you're quick to reply. "No."

It's the truth. You haven't slept with your husband in months and, when you did, there was nothing about it that was enjoyable or sensual. The last time was a brief tussle to get him off before he left for Annesburg, one where you didn't even pant and he didn't care if you did. You remember vividly feeling empty as he filled you up, the cracks on the ceiling as exciting as his thrusts. Just another passionless night with another heartless man in a list of too many few.

Now that you think about it, nothing can compare to what has happened between you and Arthur in the past few days. Not even close.

Your negative answer earns a purr of satisfaction from him, reaching for your chin with his fingers to pull you in. "Good. Keep it that way, yeah?"

You nod in agreement as you lean into his mouth, his tongue prodding yours to seal your vow of exclusivity as you surrender to the man who wants you all to himself, burying himself deeper within you.

His hands go back to your hips before they settle on your rear, grabbing hungrily as you both resume your lascivious pounding, the feeling intensified by the unceremonious binding of your union. Your breasts bounce wildly in front of him, earning his undisputed attention as he tries to land his lips on them. He stops when he begins to grunt disorderly, leaning his head against the headboard as he prepares to finish.

"Need you to rise, missy. I'm gonna--" He bites down on his lip, his teeth sinking hard as his hands promptly clasp your hips with all the will still left in him, with enough force to remove you from his cock, sitting you on top of his clenching thighs. He manages to stroke himself a few times before the white ropes erupt as he directs them to his stomach, his whole body trembling beneath yours. An earthquake of a deeply satisfied man.

He pants as he opens his eyes, his hands caressing your shoulders as he propels you forward to his kiss.

"So good to me.”

Your breasts dance against the sinful cadence of his heaving chest, his words reverberating close to your beating heart.

“And only me."

Your first ride on top is one to remember.

----

The weeks never passed so quickly before Arthur, much less this blissfully. You keep track of the days since you met for the first two or three weeks. But then the count becomes hazy, blurred by the consuming nature of your passion, the devouring nestling of your thighs, the countless collisions of your lips.

He visits you when he can escape from his other life, twice a week most times, three times if you're both lucky. He usually arrives with the sunset, his shirt still soaked from a hard day's work, his neck dusty from the ride over. You quench his thirst right away, first with your lips and then with a glass of water, watching as he heads to your bedroom to wash away his impurity in your vanity. Just like on the day when you first met.

You usually have dinner ready, repeating dishes he has previously enjoyed, always making sure you have extra potatoes. You try to have a cooled pie waiting for him, one he'll gobble up even after a big meal, regardless of its flavor. But apple remains his favorite, you can tell. He brings sacks full of groceries, bottles full of whiskey, and handfuls of game meat, enough food to feed the both of you and have leftovers. He stuffs himself until he can't take anymore, satisfying a bottomless hunger that only your cooking seems to appease. Just like on the day when you first met.

He makes sure to tap his belly when he finishes, the fabric of his shirt stretching as it swells. "I'm gaining weight from your fine cooking, missy."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't eat so much, Mr. Morgan."

"Can't help it when you cook so well."

"I know a way to burn it off." You know he loves your sly remarks as much as your cooking.

Once his tastebuds are satisfied, he usually grabs your arms, pulling you into his hot embrace or his fidgety lap, tugging from you fervent kisses to try to indulge his remaining need. Sometimes you're able to escape to finish the dishes, most times you aren't, his stomach not the only part of him that stretches after dark.

You always end the night holed up in your bedroom, the many phases of the moon depicted in your window as they change, your lustful connection never once waning. He stretches you out on the mattress, working you with his tongue or his hands, prying you open to receive him. He buries himself in your tightness, sometimes letting you stroke him beforehand, his size always a scintillating marvel when pressed against your fingers or your walls. He envelops you with his whole body or lets you straddle him with your thighs, hungry to feel your release, getting off on your seismic pleasure every time. He's careful to finish out of you, tainting both of your flesh with the white stains of a sinful tryst. You always end up in the iron grip of his loving arms, soothing each other before sleep tames you. Just like on the night when you first met.

He wakes up in the morning next to you, sometimes energetic enough to go again, sometimes satisfied enough not to attempt it, lavishing you with sweet tender kisses instead. He drinks your bitter coffee and eats your runny eggs, his gaze twinkling with the soft light of the morning sun. You brush his hair with your fingers before he covers it with his hat, the hanging ropes on the brim swaying as he kisses you goodbye, the sound of his parting boots heavy in your yard and in your chest. Behind he leaves his vow to come back. Just like on the day after you first met.

And just like a few days after you met, he comes back to keep his word, bringing with him the exciting promise of the sunset and the sensual touch of the night.

----

It is a particularly hot afternoon when Arthur arrives with his shirt covered in blood, the stench nauseating as the sun intensifies, the sight heart-wrenching as you think it's his own spill.

He can tell from your face you’re riddled with anguish. "I'm fine, darling, was out hunting is all." He unloads from his horse the deer he caught, already skinned and prepped for a fresh meal. "You in the mood for some stew?"

He places the carcass on your kitchen counter, chopping it up into sizable chunks as you prepare to salt most of it, leaving a few pieces to cook for dinner. He's thoughtful enough to remove his shirt right away and you draw him a bath to wash away the viscous blood still on his chest and shoulders.

When he's inside the tub, he's insistent that you scrub him. "I can't reach my back, missy. Think you can help me?" You try to hasten the washing as you still have to prepare dinner and wash his clothes, earning a reprimand from him. "Go easy on me, darling. I don't like it so rough."

You soften the swabs of your sponge, enough to hear him relax with deep breaths, his back sinking against the edge of the tub. "That feels real good, missy." You have no choice but to scrub his chest, which turns into a very bad idea once he starts pecking your lips, interrupting your movements as he gets bolder by the kiss. "God, I missed you, sweetheart." It’s been three days since you last saw each other. Your mouths entangle as you feel his wet hands dampen your back. "I miss these lips every single day. You know that?"

When he gets tired of you skidding away from him, ignoring his kisses so you can continue to wash him, you suddenly feel his hands reach the side of your hips, picking you up from the ground to land you with a wet crash on his lap, your skirt heavy with the weight of the water as you soak in his embrace. You try to contain your amusement as he attempts to kiss you, soon edging his tongue into the middle of your lips, satisfied only when you hum in unexpected pleasure.

He stares at you for a few seconds, tracing the shape of your mouth as if he's never seen it before, stretching your lips with a few soft rubs of his inquisitive thumb as if to test their malleability. "Prettiest lips I've ever seen."

"Well, they're all yours, partner." You think your remark is a rather lame flirtation but it turns into much more as his eyes suddenly darken and he inhales deeply before giving you the most selfish kiss, taking your words to heart as he takes what's rightfully his.

"Too pretty for an ugly old fool like me." You splash him with water to reprimand his off-putting self-deprecation, making him grab your hands so you can stay still to continue to ravage your defiant lips.

Somehow you convince him to let you go, promising a belated recompense if he lets you finish your chores. You try to leave the slippery tub with some difficulty, chuckling at his childish pettiness when he refuses to help you up. Eventually you manage to get on your feet, shedding your clothes before going to get some dry ones.

He’s sore enough to complain as you leave the room. “Wish you could leave your lips as easily as you leave me.”

Despite the temptation of returning to his arms, you try to get a move on with dinner, the pot by the fire soon filled with softening venison and herbs. You scrub his bloodied shirt against the washboard in your yard, your hands turning frightfully red in the attempt. It’s pristine blue when you finally hang it on the clothesline.

You turn around to head back inside when you see Arthur standing on the porch, only a loose small towel hanging from his waist.

“Dinner ready yet?”

“Hold your horses, would you? I’m adding the potatoes now.”

“Well, if I can’t have your lips then at least put some food in my mouth, woman!”

You give him a defying look as you pass him on the way in, trying to ignore his clinging. “Running your mouth not enough for you?”

He’s quick to grab you tightly from behind, his breath hot as it blows in your ear. “Not even close, missy.”

You try to break from his embrace unsuccessfully. “Why don’t you put on some clothes and then we can eat?”

“You better eat quick then, 'cause I ain’t waiting long.”

His impatience seems to ease when he finally starts to eat the stew, sitting in his chair with a new set of clothes, still dented from the shape of his saddle. Despite his threat, dinner is not rushed and you actually enjoy it, soothed by the comfort of the food and the pleasure of your company. He even lets you do the dishes first, all while you enjoy some of his unbelievable tales of his time out West.

When you go to get the glasses from the table, he stops you in your attempt and you know you've gone far enough. His grip is strong on your forearms but he verbalizes his wish rather than pull you down. "Sit."

His lap is inviting, spread enough to cushion the width of your rear as you climb on top of him face to face, the feeling familiar once his kisses start pouring, your hands grabbing his neck as you always do. What you don't know is this time won't be like any other.

It's when he pauses the work of his tongue that you know something is off, his eyes staring as he gains the courage to ask you an intimate request. "I want to feel your mouth on me, missy." His thumb returns to the place it was brushing in the tub. "Take me with those pretty lips of yours."

Your face burns hot as you hear him, first from the lewd nature of his wish, second from the realization that you've never done it before. The eagerness in his eyes is ignited and you feel a tingling at the prospect of pleasing him as he desires.

An act so debauched it seems akin to blasphemy. Then again, you've gone this far in your adultery, why not please your lover as he desires.

“Think you can do it? Hm?”

You nod in agreement, ready to cross the threshold of the gates of hell.

"Good. Get on your knees for me, would ya?"

Arthur helps you off his lap, his hands clasping your hips until you're standing, then reaching to undo his pants. You lower your knees to the ground, supporting your hands on his thighs to ease the landing. His cock is in his hand by the time you're down, stroking to grow his size.

His free hand reaches the side of your head, petting you lovingly as he prepares. "You comfortable?"

You suddenly worry that your lack of experience will be too telling, unsure how to bring him to completion this way. You decide that perhaps it's best to be honest, giving him the chance to teach you how. "Arthur." Your hands caress the hard bone on his knees as he looks at you with interest. "I've never-" Your tongue is suddenly sticky with fluster. "I've never done it before."

His face turns somber as his hands suddenly rush to your upper arms, tightly grabbing them to pull you up. “Jesus, darling. Should’ve told me.” His grip is strong but not enough to move you. “Get up, sweetheart. We’ll do something else.”

You rise from your knees to sit on his lap while you protest his decision. “No, I want to, Arthur. Really.” His hands pull you closer to his chest as you sit on him sideways. “You just have to tell me how.”

He looks into your eyes to see if there’s truth in your words, his brow knitting in concern. “You sure? I don’t want you to do something you don’t want.”

“Yeah, I want to.” You kiss him on the lips to sweeten the deal. “Teach me how to make you feel good.”

The tip of his thumb returns to your mouth, swiping it lazily as he ponders how to proceed, making sure you don’t regret your words. His hardness is now resting on your leg, which makes you even more eager to go through with it, kissing him again to see if he makes up his kind. "Tell me how you like it."

“Christ, missy.” He gives you one last peck before he squeezes the softness of your thigh in encouragement. “Let me get up, would you?”

You’re a little confused as to why he’s getting up, but you rise anyway, sitting back on his chair as he directs you down with his hands on your shoulders. He pets the side of you arms and face before he inches backward, soon shedding his clothes unceremoniously, his member stiff as it protrudes from his nakedness. You watch as he clears the table in front of you, piling the remaining tableware on the other side of it, leaving his glass of whiskey behind. He’s so tall he easily sits on the table without barely the lift of his heels, his feet then coming to rest on the side of the chair by your thighs, his erection on the table right in front of you.

His lips glisten with the remaining shot of whiskey he takes, placing the empty glass next to his leg. “If anything don’t feel right you tell me, yeah?” His hand caresses your jaw as he assesses your psyche. You feel yourself getting wetter in anticipation, your heart beating a little faster and your palms getting a little sweaty. You hope to serve him well. “I don’t want you swallowing, ok? Just spit on this here glass. I’ll tell you when it’s time.”

His free hand encircles around his member, pumping lazily to get him ready for you. You take the chance to spread your hands on his thighs, gently caressing him to help him relax, hopefully convince him you’re calm yourself, willing to carry on with his lesson.

“Just do what feels good, missy.” The grip on your jaw tightens as he slightly pushes you forward to him. “Nice and slow, darling. It ain’t a race.” You nod in understanding, his eyes blown with wanting as his thumb brushes your lips for the last time. “I'll let you know what to do. You ready?”

Your yes is enthusiastic and clear, your lips moving against his finger before he drops his hand, pulling himself closer to the edge of the table so you can access him more comfortably. His grip returns to the side of your head to lightly brush your cheek as the other hand guides one of your own to his shaft.

Your palm feels hot and damp at the same time with his slick slathered around the stiffness of his flesh, the one you’ve touched so many times in your erotic nights. His fingers instruct you to resume his ministrations as you feel the ridge of his veins between your heedful fingers, stroking so you get used to feeling him, preparing to take him with your mouth.

His hand guides your head upwards so your lips can meet, savoring you with his full intent, wetting your mouth with the drip of his tongue. When he eases his grip on you, you take the chance to dampen his chin and his jaw, soon reaching for his neck as you lean into the roughness of his beard, settling on the softness of his collarbone. You continue your passage downwards as he continues to brush your hair, his other hand now petting your sinking shoulder, leaving your hand free to fondle his cock in slow but pleasing strokes.

The kisses you leave on his chest are plentiful and dragged until you reach the hollow of his navel when you suddenly feel him grab your hair as his tip brushes against the skin of your throat, a hitched breath leaving his own. You push his member lower so you can begin to kiss the area of his groin, your hand stopping its movements when your chin gets in the way, continuing his pleasure by circling your thumb around his tip. The combination of movements is welcomed as he begins to breathe deeper, both of you quivering with anticipation as you begin to breach the gap between his cock and your mouth, pecking the skin around the base as you wait for instructions.

His thumb caresses your ear in tenderness as he finally speaks. "Use your lips first, darling."

It seems natural to continue to kiss him, your lips landing unhurriedly on his base, his warmth as delightful as the other parts of his skin. But it feels different for him as he takes a deep breath, his fingers curling close to your scalp, urging for more of your touch. You're quick to continue to peck him, leaving a trail of soft kisses along the top of his eager member, stopping before you reach his tantalizing crown.

Unsure how to proceed, you look up at him. You've never seen his eyes so dark, blown with need. The hand on your hair moves, his thumb brushing your lips as he parts them, reaching the inside of your cheek before he swipes the ridge of your salivated tongue, driving it out of your mouth.

"Use your tongue now, missy."

His wet thumb drags against your hair as his hand returns to the back of your head as you move down, both of you anxious to feel the brush of your tongue against his stiffness.

There's nothing gracious when you finally make contact, your taste buds coming alive with the bitterness of his flesh, the hot feeling against your tongue much like the one you felt on your fingers before, the sensation both familiar and new at the same time. You feel resistance against his hardness as you begin to move your tongue in unthoughtful movements, suddenly hungry to stretch it fully to slather as much of him as possible. It must be pleasurable enough for him as it earns his audible approval, his cock twitching underneath the roughness of your tongue, his hand moving with your head as you swirl aimlessly over the length of his shaft.

Your back and forth movements are amateurish, sloppy, crass even, but you hurry them along as you feel his breath hitch, a burning desire building in your own core, holding the base of his cock to hold it closer to your mouth, your other hand squeezing his thigh. You continue to lick him until you finally feel his fingers clasp your shoulder. "Slow down, darling. Easy."

You reduce your tonguing, aiming for a relaxed rhythm that's more attuned to his liking as you hear him grunt deeper and more frequently as his arousal builds. You notice he is particularly sensitive at his tip, his breath hitching further as you lick its underside repeatedly. Before you realize it, the circle of your lips begins to surround his tip as your tongue slides forward, soon taking him deeper into the tightness of your mouth, dragging his flesh along the hunger of your buds.

When a few inches of him are inside you, you feel his hand curl in your hair. "Take it out now, missy." It's the high-pitched breath he gives you when you retract that indicates what he likes, so when his tip touches yours again, you immediately set out to sink him inside you once more until you repeat the motion again.

His hands tighten around your skin and he huffs deeper as you suck around him, your head bobbing to bring him in and out of you, getting him closer and closer to a state of uncontrolled bliss. Somehow, he still has the presence of mind to grab your immobile hand around his base, urging you to pump him as you still work your mouth around him. "That's it, sweetheart." His words are muffled by the prelude of his peak. "Fuck. Don't stop."

As your mouth adapts to the feeling, you begin to ease into your movements, taking him deeper as your mouth waters, your chin soon dripping with excess. As your hand continues its work, you feel your own core swell, needing to slightly graze the seat beneath you to seek some comfort. When you feel none, you begin to rock in the chair, removing your hand from his thigh to your own as you begin to circle your bud. You are so aroused by Arthur's own thrill you're quick to pant yourself, your own moans now engulfing him too as they land on his hot flesh. But they're no match to his, your own pleasure so enticing to him he suddenly gets louder, beginning his ascent into uncontrollable madness.

"It's time."

His words are barely perceptible between his grunts, his muscles flexing and his hands now grabbing you, almost edging on pain as you steady yourself back on the might of his thigh. His release comes quick after that, his member twitching against your cheeks as you finally feel hot fluid reach your tongue, soon flooding the rest of your mouth in depraved novelty, tasting the curious elation of your gratified lover. His spill is bountiful and you're soon fighting back the urge to swallow it, remembering his wish that you spit it out instead.

Once he stops his effusion, it takes him a while to gather composure, his tip still inside you as his grunts overflow, growing quiet with each breath. His hands push you back until you reach the back of the chair, his cock leaving your mouth with a wet noise, dripping with his white release, a few drops landing heated on your thigh. Still overwhelmed with ecstasy, he reaches for the glass by his side before his thumb returns to your lips, either to wipe his seed off of them or to rub it on them more evenly. He then brings the glass right to them.

"Spit, darling."

You gather most of the slick around your mouth before you spit, his remnants still coating much of your insides as it mixes with your saliva. The milky fluid drips into his glass like molasses and he puts it away once he's satisfied with the outcome. His hand returns to your jaw, giving you a few pats before he unexpectedly leans in, taking your wet lips into his as he begins to taste himself on you.

"You did so well, missy." His eyes lock into yours, your hands clutching his hips as you hear his praise. "Such a good girl for me." Your lips smack with the sound of wetness. "Let me take care of you now."

You regret when he leaves your lips, moving backward as he reaches for your hands, removing them from him before his feet hit the ground. He stands as he looks down at you, giving you an extra peck before he places his hands at your waist, pressing your legs to wrap them around his torso, lifting you up without delay. He places you down on the side of the table where he sat, the wood still warm from his own thighs, his hands then moving under your skirt, pulling your bloomers all the way down.

"Take the rest off, darling. I wanna see you."

You're quickly naked for him, your bare bottom close to the edge of the table as he begins to dowse you with wet kisses, from your lips to your breasts to your navel, his movements hurried as you already groan from built-up arousal. When he returns to take one of your nipples into his mouth, you suddenly whine with vexation. "Arthur, please!"

He looks worriedly at you as you lead one of his hands to your core, showing him how wet you are for him, closing your legs around his hand when he begins to rub your clit. "It's ok, sweetheart. I got you."

Arthur gets on his knees in a swift determined motion, his hands stretching your legs open so he can place his head between them. He wraps his arms around your thighs, inching you closer to the edge of the table so he can have full entry to your needy core.

You’re already a slobbering mess when his tongue begins to lavish between your swollen lips, tightly bracing your thighs to hold you steady. You let out deep repressed grunts, your back falling restless against the table as he begins to suck you mercilessly, returning the favor of devouring your flesh, prying delectable pleasure from you. Eating you as famished as he ate his dinner right on the same side of the table.

You’re a sight to see if anyone were to walk into your yard. With the windows open, curtains swaying with the night breeze, the lamps illuminating the sinful romp unfolding inside. You’re splayed on the table, breast bouncing with each panted scream you let out, hands clutched around his hair, thighs and back undulating around him. His face is covered in your cunt, his arms flexed to hold you, his knees rocking against the floor where he kneels. The most sinful act unfolding at the place where you're supposed to say grace, not receive it.

The work of his tongue is overwhelming as you quickly reach the point of no return, further intensified when he teases a finger at your entrance. When it's finally curled inside, you begin to lose control, your unrestrained cries only stifled by the walls, your eyes closing shut in blinding gratification. Your hands leave his hair, flailing around to find some solace, finding none. Instead, you knock down Arthur's glass, his release spilling on the floor below as the crystal breaks. Soon after that, you break too.

Your climax is as ruthless as your journey there, prolonged by his unrelenting need to keep you writhing under his tongue, feeling your whole body quake for him. Your mutual moans of gratification coalesce into a salacious tune that is only broken when you beg for mercy. "Arthur!"

He looks straight into your eyes before he removes himself from between your legs, raising from his position to move to your side, leaning down to kiss you softly, caressing your arms as he attempts to bring you down from your delirium.

It takes a while for you to still, your legs still trembling as they arch on the table, your core still exposed to the breeze coming in, the coarse wood suddenly a nuisance against your bare skin. Arthur somehow manages to read your mind, sitting back on his chair before he pulls you down onto his lap again, resting your spent head on one of his shoulders, soothing your sweaty back as your breaths even again. You stay like that for a while and, when you move, you feel your skin sticky against his, like you're not meant to be pulled apart.

"I think we need another bath." You croon against his ear before you dare to press your lips against his beard.

"Mhm, I guess so." His fingers attempt to comb your damp hair. "You gonna leave those pretty lips of yours with me this time?"

It takes all your strength to pull your head back to see his glowing eyes again, his question still adrift in them. "Maybe I'll leave all of me instead. How about that?"

"Oh? You will?" His kiss tells you what you want to hear, his tongue soon prodding yours as he breathes you in. He breaks when he is satisfied, bringing his thumb once more to the cushion of your bottom lip. "Gonna have to clean the mess I made in you then. Leave you as pretty as I found you."

You nod, your smile widening as you remember the taste of him. But something behind him catches your eye as you look over his shoulder, seeing a wet splatter across your dining room floor. "You're gonna have to clean my floor too, mister."

It's the way he laughs, his joy reverberating on your chest, his hands moving gently along your curves, his hips jiggling you with contentment, his lips stretching into an undisturbed smile, his eyes looking into yours with fearless passion. It's the way he asked if you could please him as he wanted, the way he gave you the same thing in return. It's the way he holds you close after making you feel so euphoric. It's the way he makes you realize you're deeply in love.

----

It was too good to be true. The boundless joy Arthur's given you was bound to break, sooner or later. You'd just hoped it'd be later.

Fetching mail at the Valentine station was always dreadful, your heart always heavy as you climbed the wooden stairs, as you stared at the mustache of the station attendant, waiting for your loathed turn. You'd ache at the sight of another letter from your miserable husband, promising his eventual return, notifying you of a new deposit, defacing written words of inexistent love.

But this time the letter is different, not the usual sandy stationary he uses. Instead, it's a pristine white envelope and the handwritten address tells you immediately who it's from. Your Aunt Caroline always had the prettiest penmanship.

Your feet lead you unconsciously to the nearest bench, sitting down just as you pry open the envelope, smiling as you see your aunt's good wishes. I hope this letter finds you in unbridled joy, my dear. It really does.

Her pleasantries are plentiful as she details her new life in Saint Denis and how much it has aided your uncle's health, who seems much improved with the change of scenery. The heat was bothersome at first but now it seems to suit them quite well. Their social calendar has kept them busy as they have adapted to the city's high society, their connections growing with their substantial wealth. They seem to only want for one thing: the treasured company of their favorite and only niece.

She formally asks you to go visit them in Saint Denis, knowing well that your husband remains in Annesburg while you continue your simple solitary life in New Hanover. The invitation is endearing and for a moment you relish the idea of visiting your beloved aunt and uncle, the people who raised you after your parents passed. Spending a few weeks with them should be invigorating as they spoil you with their genuine affection, even if they might insist on parading you around in uncomfortable dresses at pretentious dinner parties and soirées. After months of solitude, it might be bearable, enjoyable even.

But then you remember Arthur. You suddenly feel the ghost of his hands on your hips, his lips on your neck, his thighs on your own, his breath hot on your ear as he tells you how much he wants you. The thrilling memories of the past few months come flooding in and suddenly your heart breaks at the thought of leaving him, the only lover who's ever treated you right. It'd be foolish to do him wrong.

But then you read more of the letter and your heart breaks even more.

I have written to your dear husband Stanley regarding your visit to Saint Denis. He has informed me that he would like to come see you once you are settled with us, requesting new correspondence once you have arrived. He will make his traveling arrangements then.

The trip is suddenly surrounded with gloom at the mention of seeing your husband, his presence the last thing you need back in your life. Your knee begins to shake involuntarily, the heel clicking and echoing around the unusually quiet train station. The notion of leaving Arthur to return to that scoundrel is revolting, like running from a safe haven to go chase unruly tornados.

But then you read your aunt's following paragraph and you realize you have no other choice.

I really do hope you get to join us here for a time. If not for my sake, at least for your uncle, who seems to yearn to hold his little girl in his arms again. He speaks so fondly of you every day. I'd be jealous if I didn't regard you with the same consideration. Perhaps you'd like to oblige the wishes of a sentimental old couple while you still can. I've never known you to be unkind. You were always the light in your woeful lives. I hope you get to be it once more.

And in that moment you realize your love for them is much bigger than your resentment for your husband. Or your passion for Arthur.

I look forward to seeing your sweet smile again, the one you happily got from your sweet mother. Wishing you were here already, Your Aunt Caroline

You take a deep breath as a sound grabs your attention. It's a little boy sitting down on the bench in front of you, his mother urging him to behave as they wait for the next train. Her caring hand is on his shoulder, petting him lovingly as he calms down, his feet hovering impatiently above the floor. He must be the age you were when your aunt and uncle went to pick you up and took you from the only life you knew, petting you lovingly on the shoulder too.

You rise from your seat, your mind made up as you walk to the station attendant so you can send a letter to begin preparing for your journey to Saint Denis.

You just hope Arthur Morgan forgives you.

----

It's a hot afternoon when you return home, your mare Amber back in the shade of your stable, your skirt brown on the brim from the Valentine mud as you tread up the stairs onto your porch. You're wondering how you might survive the Saint Denis heat when you see a bouquet of fresh flowers resting on your windowsill, begging to be primed on your prettiest vase. There is a note stuck on the closed door, a ripped page from a journal.

Sorry I missed you. A. M.

It saddens you to see Arthur was here and you weren't, unable to receive his eager kisses and his gentle embrace as you tell him how much you like the flowers. Your heart aches knowing that you may not have many chances to do it again.

Upon much reflection, your decision still seems sound as you think of the joy you'll give your uncle as he gets to hug you again, letting you win at cards when he thinks you can't tell. Your aunt will welcome you with her kind and trustful face as she begins her attempts to get you to eat as much as she can, her cakes as soft as the pillows where you'll sleep. It'll be heaven to be with them again.

But you can't shake Arthur from your mind. To pause your love affair seems crass, both to him and to you, especially now that you know each other so well. You can't even bear to think of ending it all together, a thought so cruel it robs most of your night's sleep. When you somehow sleep a wink, you wake up exhausted, dreading the moment you have to tell Arthur the news of you leaving him. Either for now or for good.

It's not surprising he comes to you in the afternoon, barely a day after he missed you, desperate to see you again. He doesn't bring you anything, just the sweet return of his arms and the hunger of his lips, his presence so comforting it makes you swoon with elation. Somehow your doubts dissolve when you feel him breathing you in.

His longing for you is clear as he leaves his saddle quicker than usual, kissing you hurriedly, not even bothering to lead his horse Titus to the stable, hitching him to your porch instead. When he returns to kiss you again, you see why. His pants are tented much more than usual for this time of day.

When your hips meet, his eagerness brushes directly on your waist but he has the need to tell you himself. "Sweetheart, really need you right now."

You toy with the seam of his pants, threatening to unbutton him right then and there. "Missed me, did you?"

"You know I did." He reaches for your hand, urging you to lower it, soon palming his growing arousal over the fabric of his jeans. He kisses you sloppily, shameless lust running through his veins. "Need you now, missy." His breath hitches as your fingers work your magic. "Needed you yesterday too. I can't wait any longer, sweetheart."

You suddenly stop your teasing, placing your hands on his shoulders so you can whisper close in his ear. "Inside."

You watch his confused expression for a moment before you grab him by the hand, walking him up the porch as you lead him inside to the living room, quickly beginning to undress as you sit on your davenport, your boots off as you throw them across the floor. You've never seen Arthur undress this fast, his cock is in his hand as you still work the buttons on your blouse, stroking himself as he watches you toss the remaining clothes.

His breath is already heavy when he settles on the davenport next to you, guiding you onto his lap before he kisses you deeply, once, twice, thrice. His hands run over your body to warm you up, tantalizing your skin with the sweet touch of passion before his fingers focus on your nipples, riling you up for what's to come. He then speeds up his usual slow approach as he begins to circle your clit, his member anxious as it falls on your thigh and you begin to stroke it.

Arthur begins to moan with built-up arousal and you see him getting more impatient by the minute, clutching one of your hips to try to contain himself, hoping he lasts long enough to sink inside you. One of his fingers enters you, trying to open you up for him so you can quench his intolerable ache. Two fingers are inside you when he finally admits defeat. "Missy, I- I need to-"

"Get inside me, Arthur."

He lets out a grunt before you feel his hands at your waist, clasping you tightly before he picks you up with all of his brute force, laying you down on the sofa underneath him, spreading your legs apart so he can place himself in the middle. His breath is loud and frantic as he brings a hand to his beading member, brushing it up and down your slit until he finally gives in and enters you, quicker than either of you had hoped, the feeling strained until you adjust to him, moaning into the thick air around you as he begins to move inside you.

His hands grab your thighs forcefully as he begins to slam himself against you, chasing a high that intensifies with each thrust. Even as he fills you to the hilt, he craves more, trying to deepen himself within you until he disappears completely. Unsatisfied, he places the back of your knees on his shoulders, bending you to his will as your thighs press against his chest, your knees on his shoulders, his face lowered against yours as he finally gets you in the angle he was craving.

Folded underneath his greed, succumbed to his complete will and desire, you feel every muscle in your body come alive with passion, blinding pleasure devouring your every sense in the most salacious position he's had you yet. Face to face in reciprocal vigorous lust, it's not long until both of you are consumed by ravenous sensations of ecstasy and release, unsure of how long you stare into each other's eyes before you both still in satisfaction, both breathing frantically as he rests his foreheads against yours. It takes a few moments before either of you ease on the tight grip you have on each other's flesh, your fingers only easing when your lips wrap in delightful gratitude.

When the time comes for unfurling yourselves, your knees crack from the stretch, your muscles aching with the strain of your stance. Arthur helps you onto his lap as he sits, rubbing pleasingly as he sees you struggle to extend your legs. After a few minutes, you're well enough to head inside to your vanity and begin to wash yourself, his seed sticky as it cools on your stomach. When you finish, you realize you still have to tell him you're leaving, a derangement after the proximity you just shared.

Your skin is still damp when you return to the living room in your nakedness, leaning against the wall as you watch Arthur collect his clothes from the floor, then sitting down once his pants are buttoned, all the while staring back at you.

"Seems I can't enough of you, can't I?" His forehead is still aglow with sweat, his locks darker from the exertion, contentment painting his face as he smiles. But your stomach turns violently.

Your face must show your worry as he suddenly frowns. "What's wrong?"

"We need to talk."

He instinctively holds out his hand for you to take, directing you to join him as he motions you to sit by his side.

And then you tell him.

----

Two weeks are all you have left until your trip to Saint Denis. The letter you get from your aunt a few days later confirms that a hired carriage will take you to the city a week from Friday, your departure from Valentine scheduled early in the morning so you may travel in the comfort and security of the daylight, the trip already paid by your eager aunt and uncle. You are to make use of the remaining time to put your affairs in order. But only one in particular matters.

Arthur took the news of your trip better than you expected. At least initially. He understood your need to take the trip from the moment you told him, encouraging you to do what is necessary to be a good niece. But you could see he was pained when you told him you weren't sure how long you'd be gone, that the trip might take you away from him for several weeks, months even. He looked at you with his disappointed opulent eyes, swallowing hard at the notion of losing you, even if temporarily. Yet his words were nothing if not supportive and unfazed, the hands on your hips claiming you could go.

But it is the way he lingers behind every day until your trip that tells you just how much he's dreading to see you leave. The first few days he leaves for his work in the morning, coming back at night to spend the evening with you. But the closer to the day, the more he delays his departure and hurries his arrival. One day he doesn't even leave at all, staying with you until the time comes to escort you to Valentine.

His presence is more than welcomed as your efforts to close down your small property pile on. He helps you take your chickens to a friendly farmer up north, then boarding up the coop so no wild animals nest there. He mends part of the fence that surrounds your homestead, ensuring it's tall enough so no one can break in while you're gone. He fixes the bent hinges on your front door, so it may close safely and hold until you return to open it. He helps you eat most of the perishable food you still have and helps you sell the rest of it so it doesn't spoil. He offers to help you pack, but he mostly just sits on the bed as he watches you pack your clothes, his sight watching your every move and every fold.

He mostly keeps his hands busy with work until he gets to put them on you, holding you so close to him you think you'll bruise and your aunt's maids will notice when they help you dress. He takes you everywhere he can. On your bed, on your sofa, on your stable, on your dining table again. On the floor of the kitchen when you were stubborn enough to attempt to clean up one night. On the back of your wagon after you sold your remaining supplies in Valentine.

"Someone will see us, Arthur." You whispered as you tried desperately not to come apart.

"Let them,” he dared as he sank inside you again, his own limit verging forward. "Let them see how pretty you are for me."

----

The last day is more emotional than you imagined. None of you speak much, the palpable tension hanging in the air like uninvited mist. You finish packing your bags, tidying up the rest of the house so you can find everything in its place when you return. Arthur is absent most of the day but you figure he must be close by as Titus remains at the stable. You're unsure of what he's doing but you realize how upset he must be if he doesn't even want to be with you. The soup you serve for lunch is as cold as the look he gives you, a man clearly dreading the change about to come.

Your chores are finished as the afternoon begins to unwind, the whole time dreadful as you both loathe the upcoming goodbye. Arthur shows up when you finish placing your bags on the porch, offering to hoist them up to the wagon now led by your mare Amber. You'll leave her to the care of the Valentine farrier until you return.

A bittersweet feeling invades you when you walk through your house one last time before you leave, making sure your windows are closed and the lamps are put out. Every room is flooded with memories of the irresistible time you've had with Arthur, one that is so regretfully about to end. You close the door on your now darkened house and you wonder how different everything will be when you open it again.

Despite his obvious sorrow, Arthur helps you climb the wagon, caressing your elbow once you're settled. "I'll come round here every once in a while. Make sure it remains closed."

His promise to guard your home is comforting and you smile at him, both as a thank you and as a hint to kiss you. But he shies away and mounts Titus instead, leading you out of your yard and into the road of a reality where your dazzling affair ceases to be.

The ride to Valentine is mostly silent, or at least one-sided as you attempt to tell him of your aunt and uncle's burgeoning life in Saint Denis. You barely get a response out of him, his short replies muffled by the raucous of the wheels of the wagon. You're almost at your destination when he utters his most verbose reply yet.

"Those rich folk in Saint Denis… Don't let them change you."

"I won't."

He nods his head swiftly at your affirmation, the leather of his hat shining with the last rays of the parting sun.

It's dusk when the muddy trails of Valentine slow down your wagon, making the trip to the hotel vexing. Arthur drops off your bags at your assigned room before you both head to the farrier, where you woefully say goodbye to Amber. You leave with the farrier's word that he'll take good care of her and you believe him as he begins to count the money you pay him in advance for his service.

Arthur invites you for dinner at the saloon before you retire to the hotel, paying for both your meals despite your insistence to do so. The ambiance is rather noisy as the pianist plays away and the town's drunkards begin to gather at the bar. Both of you eat quickly to leave before the unavoidable ruckus of the night begins.

When the door of your hotel room closes, both of your spirits are solemn and hushed, the tension of the day dragging inside, festering along with the dread of saying goodbye. Arthur stands by the door unlatching his belt before he sits on a chair, watching as you pretend to busy yourself with arranging the luggage, waiting for word on what to do next. You feel his eyes follow your every move, shifting in his seat as he tries to gather the courage to say something. But the impasse drags on as you keep avoiding him, afraid that his heartbroken gaze might break you. You fiddle with the dress you plan on wearing tomorrow, kneeling down on the floor as the tension between you grows to a suffocating standstill, neither of you prepared to end the affair between you.

After a moment that seems to last forever, you feel Arthur’s heavy feet on the floor as he moves towards you, his knees then sinking next to yours on the floor, his hands grabbing you by the hips, his chest warm against the curve of your back. Instead of speaking a single word, his lips find the crook of your neck, getting it wet with the start of his goodbye. You lean back into him to welcome his touch as you realize this is the start of what could be the last time he holds you like you belong together.

His lips busy themselves with whatever part of your skin they can find as you feel his hands roam among your peaks and your valleys, ruffling the cloth that keeps him from kissing the rest of your body. You clutch the side of his thighs as you open yourself to his advances, your head falling on his shoulder as his hands work their way south to pull up your skirt. A stifled groan leaves your throat when he glides through the inside of your legs, warming you up to the sin about to come.

Instead of leaving your thighs, his hands tighten around them, pulling you closer to him as he plants a hungry kiss at your collarbone, now grinding himself against your skirt, your nails clawing at his jeans. You’re lost in the euphoria of the moment as his arms flex and he suddenly picks you up from the ground, your legs going limp as you surrender to his brute tender force.

Before you know it he has you spreadeagled on the bed as he rises above you, his fingers gripping your waistband to remove your skirt in one swoop, returning again to remove your bloomers, the cold of the room hitting as your core and your wetness are exposed. Arthur looms, watching you for a moment before he gets on his knees again to begin kissing your inner thighs, staying on them for longer than you wish, hungry to be lavished but still dreading the departure. Impatient, you grab his hair with force to lead him to your center and he soon wraps his lips around your own, prying from you unadulterated bliss like always.

You are not sure if it’s because you are parting, or if it’s because he knows you so well by now, but your release comes faster than usual, leaving you a whimpering fool at the foot of the bed. Your feet steady on the edge of the mattress, your legs still shaking as you watch Arthur through them. He rises and undresses, his lips still shining with the taste of your cunt. He’s soon naked before you, working his arousal as your chest tries to settle, a futile effort as you realize you’ll soon be panting again.

The sweat still damps your brow when your eyes meet in tandem, the moment before either of you acts on the urge to surrender against each other. His throat contracts with the itch of desire as his hand still works, his feet bringing him closer to the bed. You unbutton the frivolity of your shirt, stripping yourself for him and exposing your breasts just as you expose your yearning for him. Your sore legs extend as you scooch higher into the bed, leaving them open for Arthur to ravish you.

Your eyes never part as he climbs the bed, his hands coming to caress your naked body as he pleases, starting on your knees, your thighs, your waist, your breasts. Like he’s trying to imprint in his mind what it feels like to touch you. His thumb travels up your throat with his usual softness, undercut only by the roughness of his calloused skin. He traces your jaw a few times before he dares to finally bend down to kiss you like it’s the first time. Or maybe the last.

Everything that happens next is both too slow and too fast at the same time as you begin to blend together. It’s both a bittersweet goodbye and an overjoyed gratitude for your time together. The perfect love affair that may never come again.

His kisses turn hungry but deep and slow, his body now overbearing you with the crushing weight of losing him, the only man that has ever made love to you rather than possess you. Your hands pull him closer to you, roaming his physique for a possible way to make him fused into you so you can never let him go. But there is still a part of you that aches for him to go deeper.

His full size is hot rubbing against your stomach, tantalizing you with the remaining part of him he still has to give you. You moan into him as his tongue delights with yours, your hips undulating against each other, rocking the flame of hot desire running through you both, itching to burn into ashes. Your hand slides down from his chiseled back, entering the tight space between you, soon finding a way to the hard pulse of his member. Your fingers resume his efforts to excite him, his mouth opening in surprise as it still wraps around yours, trying to swallow you as he tries to contain his elation. Your hand is steady, enough to get him to open his eyes so he can see yours, begging him to slide down so he can enter you once more.

His strong hands are quick to grab the thickness of your thighs, placing them beside his hips as he positions himself between them, his erection now pressed against the lips he has kissed countless times in the past months. He rubs himself against your folds, tantalizing you with the depth of ecstasy your whole soul desires, eager to feel him pulse inside you, a feeling to be recalled once you're back on your own. His hands settle close to your buttocks as he angles himself down, prodding your entrance with eagerness in his proud but roaming eyes.

The stretch is pondered as usual, perhaps even slower as somehow you feel it more achingly, your body coming alive with the tip of his carnality, soon devoured by breathlessness as he settles deep within you. His chest is high above yours before he moves to close the gap, his lungs soon reverberating atop your breasts, his hands now holding onto your shoulders to finish his burial. A somber pause follows as you look into each other's eyes, closer than two bodies could ever be, the silence only broken by the beating of aching hearts, now realizing the time has come to end their unwanted goodbye.

The sad realization is only broken by your mutual restlessness, the will to finish what you started. The first roll of Arthur's hip comes as natural as the tears forming in your eyes, which manage to escape after a few more of his thrusts. As he picks up the pace, somehow holding you in his arms as you hold him in yours, the sex seems miraculously paced, not too fast so you can’t savor it, not too slow that you can’t quiver with every move. The perfect farewell of an imperfect romance.

The bittersweet rhapsody is only broken when Arthur suddenly speaks.

"Come back to me, missy." Another crash of your hips. "Come back to me."

The weight of his words is not lost even as you start to lose control. In fact, they seem to unravel you faster as you realize his desire for you runs as deep as yours for him. His complete surrender to worship your body and his fixed gaze on you tells you he means it. He keeps his tempo steady to inch you closer and closer to another heavenly release, struggling hard to contain his own. You watch as his muscles flex in restraint, his eyes adamant to watch you unfold into expected bliss, his member repeatedly crashing into your sensitive spot. You try to savor the high as much as you can, wishing it could go on forever, but it becomes unbearable to hold it in. You have no choice but to surrender to Arthur’s parting wish to see you come for him.

You hope that one day you’ll be able to grant him his wish to come back.

----

Valentine grows incredibly quiet once the noise from the saloon quiets down, the night perfectly still for a few hours before the sun breaks, the perfect lullaby to fall asleep. But when the dawn comes, the racket on the street below your hotel window gradually wakes you up as you lie on your side of the bed. The other side is empty.

Arthur’s belongings are gone, his clothes no longer crumpled by the foot of the bed, his gun belt no longer hung by the door. But his aroma lingers behind and you inch closer to his pillow to bury your nose in it. The image of him reaching his peak flashes in your mind, his mouth agape, his eyes strained. You feel the faint sensation of his cock still buried inside you, your walls clenching at the memory. The sheets are stained with his sweat, which left behind a musky smell, now the only evidence of his passion for you during the night. He held you in his arms for a long while after your romp, but neither of you uttered a word, knowing full well there was no better way to say goodbye. You looked into his piercing longing eyes before you fell asleep to the lulling of your quiet valentine.

His absence this morning tells you how hard this is for him. He’d rather abandon a comfortable bed with your naked body than watch you leave, unsure if you’re ever returning to your side of the bed. You can’t tell how he slipped out so quietly, his footsteps are always as heavy as his build. Perhaps he tiptoed until he left the room, scared he’d beg you to stay if he saw you awake. Or maybe the sex left you so satiated your sleep was deeper than his escape, maybe clanging his boots loudly on the floor in the hopes that he’d wake you.

You want nothing else but to seclude yourself under the covers, shielded from the outer world with nothing but the memories of Arthur to keep you company. But by the way the sun begins to shine you can tell it must be a little before seven, so you must not have much time before you are to be ready. You stay still for a few more minutes, his pillow still underneath you, the duvet entangled on your legs as if they were his own. His words still ring in your ears. Come back to me.

Getting dressed is easy even if the dress is not, something more formal so you can enter Saint Denis in a more reputable fashion. Your aunt ought to love the paleness of its blue. It can’t take you more than half an hour to have everything ready, your luggage and your hat ready to put on by the door. You figure you still have a while before your carriage arrives. You give in to the craving of laying back down on the bed, thinking of him right where he had you. You don’t remember closing your eyes when a knock on the door rouses you and you’re still yawning as you go down the stairs, your last piece of luggage being carried by your driver. The smell of Valentine hits your nose as soon as you step outside and you become fully awake.

The carriage is small but very comfortable, the cushions soft but sturdy enough for a long voyage. Since you’ll be traveling alone, there’s room enough to stretch your legs and sleep sideways. But only after the stink of the town stays behind. For now, you think you’ll read the novel that has sat by your nightstand for the past months, untouched since the day a stranger stole an apple from your yard.

As soon as the carriage starts moving you know you’re not gonna be able to read, the words soon becoming blurry by the sway of the wagon. You look outside the window as the farrier comes into view and you hope to get a glimpse of your mare Amber but all you see are brown and black horses inside. She must be kept on the other side of the stable. The Valentine mud gets stickier as the road continues, but the buildings get scarcer and the smell quells once you cross the railroad track.

Nothing but thoughts sit with you inside the car. Thoughts of your aunt and uncle and their faces when they see you arrive, the sweet tender moments you’ll have in the upcoming weeks. Thoughts of a classier life in Saint Denis and how much you’ll miss the perfect solitude of your cabin, the magical stillness of the nature that surrounds it. Thoughts of your husband and the disgust that comes with them, a bitter ache that you might see him again, a painful reminder of a loveless marriage that you’d like to escape.

But more than any other thoughts, thoughts of Arthur. Thoughts of the months you have spent together crowd your every inch as you recall moments you’ve shared, embraces you’ve exchanged, kisses you’ve borrowed, passion you’ve stolen. A lover you’ve earned. He has made you come alive again and again and suddenly it hits you how vital he has been in your life. It’s no longer a question of how much you’ll miss him but how much it’ll hurt to be apart from him. It’s a question of how long your heart will ache while the muscles of your body still recall the respite of his healing touch. Will it be long enough for you to reach Saint Denis? Will you make it there and still feel him on you? Are you doomed to feel him forever? Has the memory of his lips turned into unending despair? The New Haven scenery stretches out before you but your eyes see a blank veil as the wheels of your mind turn in fallen sorrow, crippling thoughts consuming you, setting you on a ride to remember.

The ruminating of your mind is broken when the carriage suddenly slows, stalling when two men on horseback cross the intersecting road. You look out to the right side window and see the edge of the woods. A dead tree stands out, half broken as it lays snapped in half on the ground. The gentlemen emerge from view as they make their way past the carriage. The first is a sullen man, his face covered in deep scars that make him even more menacing. The second is Arthur Morgan.

It’s as if he materializes from your thoughts, as if he knew you needed to see him again. You try hard not to blink for fear he’ll scurry from you again. He slows his horse steadily, his eyes never leaving yours once he finds them, his chest immobile despite the breath he takes as he watches you pass, his leather gloves tightening the grip on the reins. In a few microseconds you feel your throat close and your hands going limp, your body and your soul dumbstruck by the mere sight of your lover.

You both remain still as you watch each other pass, frozen by the flames of passion still burning between you. A few seconds feel like hours as the carriage turns on the road, until suddenly his figure disappears from your window. You snap, swiftly turning your head to look out of the back window, your knees steady to hold you in position as you stare at him once more. His position has moved to watch you leave, his own horse wondering whether he should follow behind you.

But it’s his eyes. His unyielding radiant eyes strike you mad, his irises fixed on your own like he’s trying to tell you something.

Something only you can decipher. Something only you can fulfill.

Come back to me, missy.

Come back to me.

-

A/N: The next chapter should be out soon enough. It has been written in my head for months now. It is after all, the reason why I made this fic in the first place…

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan smut #goodmorgan #thank you all to those who have given me feedback hoping for more #it has helped me continue :)

[goodmorgan]

Perfect Strangers

Chapter 5: A Hand to Hold

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

Series Summary: When a stranger appears at your homestead to steal from you, you set out to help him instead. What follows is a reckless relationship with potentially dangerous outcomes.

Previous Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4)

Chapter Summary: Arthur returns earlier than expected to put you at ease.

Word Count: 4.8K

Tags: 18+. MDNI. NSFW. Smut, Porn With Plot, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Masturbation, Vaginal Fingering, Mentions of Guns, Knives and Drinking, Playful Banter, Scared Reader, Protective Arthur Morgan, Lots of Fluff and Comfort

Taglist: @how-the-heck-would-i-know

AO3 Link

The nighttime was never frightening before you met Arthur Morgan, probably because it never differed from the day. You were just as lonesome regardless of where the sun was, used to the tranquil solitude of your own company, your own heartbeat your only companion. But at least you were used to it, an easy living without any surprises made for a peaceful reality. You could always rely on the kindness of predictability.

But then Arthur walked into your yard and into your life. He left your house a few hours ago and suddenly the night is terrifying. Not just because last night's home invasion left your sense of security shattered, but because a night without him is now unbearably bleak. Being alone now feels strange, wrong even.

Arthur left late in the afternoon after getting some much-needed sleep by your side. You woke him gently with a kiss on his lips, his eyes widened in amazement before he realized where he was, deepening the kiss when he was aware of who you were. You said goodbye with a long-held embrace before he rode out of view from the yard where you met. His words lingered behind: "I'll come check on you soon."

The barrel of your shotgun now rests against the headboard of your bed, easy within reach, readied for the worst. You suspect it'll be there for the foreseeable future, at least until you go to bed one day and you don't feel fear anymore. You huddle the quilt close to your chest, waiting for sleep to come. It miraculously arrives when the sun is rising and you realize you've survived a night by yourself. The only thing keeping you sane is the pretend comfort of his arms.

The day goes by quickly since you wake up around noon and you spend the day idling, without the will to do much of anything. You're getting scared of the night again as you stand on your porch, the orange in the sky hastily slipping away from your grasp.

When you hear the sound of a horse on the road you surprisingly don't feel fear nor do you reach for the gun by your side. You know in your bones it's him, galloping gently so as not to startle you. When your eyes meet, you finally find the safety you so desperately need.

You both stare at each other until his horse finally slows.

"Hey." You feel yourself smile a little, a strange feeling on such an odd day.

"Hey." The brim of Arthur's hat tilts downwards.

"You're back early." You didn't expect him today, or the next few days for that matter. He said he had work waiting for him.

"Thought I'd come see you. See how you've been."

"I'm fine. No forced entries today."

He looks at you somberly, trying to figure out what lies behind your jest. "I'll take Titus to the stable. Be right back."

"You're staying the night?"

He brings his horse to a trot as he moves to head out back. "Yeah."

His answer is enough to make you sigh of relief. You're gonna survive another night after all.

You're still in the same place when he comes back, leaning on your porch rail as you watch him, his feet heavy on the wooden floor, making yours tremble as he comes closer. He places one of his hands next to yours as he assumes the same position you're in and you both look out yonder as you welcome back the night.

The last glow of the afternoon sun makes his eyes glimmer as he looks at the horizon. "You had any trouble?"

"No. Quiet as usual." It would've been an ordinary day if you hadn't been plagued with restlessness and insecurity.

"Good." He exhales. "That's good." He turns to look at you over his shoulder. "You eat today?"

It takes you a while for you to think about his question and you realize you honestly don't know. You don't feel any hunger at least.

Your lack of answer prompts Arthur to take your hand in his, forcing you to face him. "Come on. Let's get you something."

He squeezes your hand as he motions to lead you inside but instead, you tug him back and he stops in his tracks, looking down at you with vivid concern. You don't waste time until you throw your arms around him. He doesn't miss a beat until he does the same, finally giving you the hug you so desperately needed.

"Thank you for coming," you tell him as you take a deep breath, smelling the tobacco on his shirt.

"Of course." He places a small peck on your earlobe as he gently caresses your shoulders. You sink aimlessly into him and he lets you for quite some time.

You don't know how long you've been embracing him until he nudges you lightly. "Let's get inside, darling. It's getting cold." You raise your head to see it's now completely dark outside. You don't protest as you feel him parting from you, returning his hand to yours as he leads you inside.

It's embarrassing that you haven't even bothered to light a fire today, so Arthur heads to your hearth to start one while you fix up something for dinner. You still have plenty of bean cans Arthur got you, so you make the best of it as you heat them up in the fire. The bean stew is not much of a meal but neither of you expresses disappointment. You offer him some biscuits for consolation as he tells you about the escaped convict caught nearby, the cause of all the trouble two nights ago. It seems he tried to murder two farmers east of Emerald Ranch before robbing a wagon on his way to Valentine.

"I reckon they should hang him for what he did rather than send him to Sisika. He'll just try to escape again. No point in sending him east." He takes a few bites of a biscuit and you can tell he's not a fan of something so sweet. Your apple pie was more to his liking.

"Well, the further away he is from here the better. Dead or alive." Half of a biscuit lies on your plate and you're trying to decide if you have the appetite to finish it. You don't.

"Yes. That's true." He sips some of the wine you had in one of your cupboards. All the whiskey you had for him was drunk by the soldiers when they ransacked your home. He's not drinking much today, but you make up for his restraint as you serve yourself another glass. You can tell he's noticing your attempts to drown your sorrow.

When the conversation halts, you busy yourself with cleaning the dishes as always. Arthur tries to help but there's not much to do today on account of your plain meal. He settles by the fire when he unoccupies himself until you join him on your sofa with a clumsy thud. You're not even down when he stretches his arm over the back of the davenport, inviting you into his embrace again. You succumb to the openness of his warmth as you feel him breathing under you, both of you staring at the flames as they dance lively for you.

He lowers his arm onto your shoulder, giving you a few brushes before he speaks. "What happened wasn't right. It's ok to be scared, you know?" You feel him swallow before he speaks his next words. "Happens to the best of us."

You turn your head over his chest so you can look up at him, wrapping your arms around his frame for stability. "You get scared too? A big man like you?"

"Sometimes." He begins to run his fingers through your hair, tucking it behind your ear. "When others are in danger, I worry about them." His thumb traces the ridge of your ear. "I worried about you," he admits. "I'm glad you're ok."

You hum in appreciation as you begin to trace your fingers over the exposed chest hairs of his open collar as they twinkle by the fire. "What happens now?"

He ponders his answer as if trying to decide whether to tell you the truth. "It fades. Slowly. Then it goes away."

"How long will that take?"

"As long as it needs to, I guess." You must look dismayed by his answer as he stumbles to be more encouraging, squeezing your shoulder assuringly. "You're strong. It would be worse if you weren't. You just gotta be tough a while longer. One day you'll wake up and it won't hurt no more. Not like it does now."

"It's funny. It doesn't hurt as much since you arrived."

He moves his hand to caress the back of your head. "Maybe it's the food in your belly."

"No. It's you. I'm sure." You pat his chest convincingly.

"Well, you need to take better care of yourself. At least when I'm not here."

Your heart leaps as he tells you he plans to come back to you. "And when you are?"

"Well, then, I'm here." He takes a convinced breath. "I've got ya."

You'd never imagined that three little words could set your heart aflutter and you wonder if he can feel it in your chest as you move up against him to reach his plump lips, kissing him deeply as you tug at his bottom lip. He supports your back with his hands as he leans into you, breathing you in as you move against him, tightening your grip on his neck.

It's not a lustful kiss, but it's not a restrained one either, as you try to walk the line between affection, gratitude, and discretion. You don't want it to come off as suggestive. A night of unbridled passion is the last thing on your mind after such a distressing few days.

You break off the kiss and you return your head to the side of his chest. You see the firewood flames burning in his eyes, still looking at you with unashamed intensity. Perhaps the kiss was provocative after all and he expects something in return for his comforting words.

You unlatch your hand from his neck before you trail it down his abdomen, gently brushing over his shirt. You lower your palm further until you grab his belt buckle suggestively.

He quickly answers your silent query. "I ain't come here for that, darling."

You exhale of relief as you turn away to look at the fire, returning your hand to aimlessly graze his warm inviting chest as he continues to console you. You stay like that long enough to see the embers start to die down, at which point both of you are feeling the tender nudge of sleep.

You barely exchange words as you prepare for bed. Arthur removes his gun belt and places it on a hook on your wall before placing a pistol on the nightstand closest to where he usually sleeps. You lean your shotgun against your headboard like you did the night before. He helps you remove your dress with a fast swoop before you crawl on the mattress in your chemise, watching him undress until he's down to his underpants.

Arthur heads to his side, folding the quilt back to slide in next to you. When he readjusts his pillow so it lies higher against the headboard, a glint of metal catches his eye. You watch as he removes the large knife you hid on that side of the bed in case you needed to protect yourself.

He grins at you once he realizes he has an opportunity to tease you, maybe bring a smile to your worried face. “This a present for me?” He places it on the nightstand, now humorously crowded with weapons. “I usually prefer flowers, missy.”

Your lips stretch in amusement. "The knife seemed more your style."

Arthur climbs on the bed and leans down towards you on a bent elbow. "Well, I'm afraid I can't accept it." He kisses your temple softly. "I was hoping for something less sharp." He pecks other parts of your face except for your lips.

"What?" Your tone is cheeky as you play along and catch up to his ploy. "Surely not my tongue, then."

He tries to contain a chuckle but fails as he grins like you, both reveling in the spontaneous joy of the moment as his lips meet the tip of your nose. "I was thinking of something warmer." They reach a crease above your smile. "Something softer."

When he raises his lips again, you tilt your mouth towards them without making contact. "Something closer?"

You feel his hot breath on your lips. "Something like that." He takes a deep look into your eyes as he tries to contain himself, caressing your cheek with an impatient thumb.

When he finally gives in, it's a lot gentler than you expect. You still see him close his eyes in pleasure as he gets his gift, taking your warm soft lips as if he’s never had them before. He kneads into them slowly and gently with such care it feels like you’re discovering tenderness for the first time.

You’re quick to get hungry for more, grabbing his shoulders to make him close in on you, his arms soon caging you beneath him. Your breasts rub lazily against his broad chest as his whole frame leans into you, now tingling with pure delight. He feels your lips begging for more, your tongue seeking hurried entrance into his mouth. When he allows it, you both mewl at the intensity it sends over you as it cascades into aimless shooting stars across your bodies.

When the kiss ends, overwhelmed with exhilaration, wide smiles return to your faces and you're quick to continue to joke. "I told you it was sharp. Should’ve kept the knife.”

Arthur laughs unabashedly, his chest vibrating against yours as you see the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen in a man. You’re thankful it lasts so long because you get to notice every little detail. The round reddish form of his cheeks visible through his beard. The old white scars well hidden on his stubbled chin. The soft wrinkles drawn around his mouth and glittering eyes. His damp lips stretched so wide they might split. The pearly white teeth so visible they might blind you. The joy on his face so infectious it fills every crevice in your soul.

When he stops laughing, his smile is reduced but still as riveting, even as his lids begin to close heavy from fatigue. He places a few pecks on your lips before he slides back next to you, one of his legs still tangled between yours. He motions to slide his arm under you and you take the chance to turn to face him, resting your head on his large bicep, running your hand up and down his bare chest. When you raise a thigh over his hip, he ventures to hold it in his grasp, tracing gentle circles on your skin with his thumb. Your breathing steadies and synchronizes as you begin to lull each other to sleep.

You’re almost dozing off when you realize you’re now totally at ease. You've completely forgotten the burden of dread you've been dragging around the past few days, soothed by impromptu playfulness and passion. Arthur has delicately unwound you like a mechanical doll in his calloused deft hands.

You're still awake enough to hear his remaining mumbling thoughts. “You’re really something, you know that?” You feel his grip tighten around your thigh while his other hand rests assuringly against the small of your back.

You hide your eager smile against his flank, pretending to be settling into a more comfortable position. Somehow you summon the energy to defy your weariness. “Something warmer?” you suggest brazenly.

You feel him hum against you, treading his hand around your thigh, soon reaching your buttock tenderly. "Something softer too.”

His answer is enough to make you lift your head, placing it as close to his neck as possible. You lean your whole body against him, trying to leave no inch untouched. "Something closer?"

He croons again and you feel his lips tussle your hair as he kisses the top of your head. The hand on your back pushes you further into him as he welcomes your weight onto him.

As he buries himself underneath you, it becomes clear why he came back so soon after seeing you just yesterday. He craves sleeping next to you just as much as you.

He finally whispers his last remark before you drift off to sleep, soothed by the comfort of your cocoon. “Something like that.”

—

Arthur's ridiculously handsome face is what you see before you're barely even conscious as you wake. His head is placed neatly on his pillow as his eyes remain closed, his nose looming over his other striking features. Your eyes widen at the sight of his immaculate profile, soaking up the perfect view as you try your best not to move, set on not disturbing what looks like benevolent peace.

You take shallow breaths as you notice one of your arms is limp over his chest while one of your legs is jammed beneath one of his knees. To move an inch would entail waking him from his merited sleep, so you resign yourself to the slightly awkward position your body is in. You have no choice but to drink him in.

You're studying the length of his caramel-colored lashes that rest on his cheek when you see his rosy plump lips move, his eyes still closed. "You gonna pretend to be sleeping for much longer?"

You wonder what part of your body you moved. You could swear you were perfectly still. "Just as long as you."

Neither of you moves as you wait to see who will budge first. You see a brief twitch of hesitation flash across his mouth but he insists on faking sleep until you give up. You're no less stubborn than him so you keep still, wondering how long it'll take him to yield to impatience.

You bask in the stillness of the early morning, staring serenely at the illuminated face of your lover and realizing how much tranquility he brings you. Just a single night spent in his arms and it feels like all your troubles have melted away, left outside the repose of your secluded bedroom. You feel a quiet smile reach your lips as you find yourself in the middle of another humorous romp with Arthur. For the moment it's all that concerns you in this troubled world.

You keep up the mutual sham for several minutes before his patience finally runs out. "That's it, missy. You're done for."

You squeal in surprise as he suddenly jumps up, tossing the bed linens back, kneeling on the mattress while sliding his arms underneath your back and knees, picking you up from the bed with such force it feels like you've fallen off. Instead, you find yourself lifted, folded in his strong arms like you're made of paper, holding onto his shoulders to steady yourself. He bounces you a few times as you shriek with both glee and confusion.

He settles you with a charming grin on his face. "You awake yet?"

"Arthur!" is all you say in between giggles, entranced as this man treats you like his own rag doll, tossed around recklessly in his iron grip.

You're so dumbstruck you don't reply to his question so he jolts you again more forcefully as you feel your body hover briefly in the air. "I'm gonna keep doing this until you answer me, girl."

"Yes! I'm awake, Arthur!” You clinch his shoulders for mercy. “Put me down!"

He stops bouncing you as you see him chuckle, calming you down in his arms as he keeps holding you, enjoying the sight of your bemused expression. “Well, good morning then.”

He leans down his lips to kiss your temple as you try to catch your hurried breath, slowly loosening your grip on his shoulders. He rewards you by lowering his lips against yours, giving you a fiery kiss spurred on by the adrenaline still running through both your veins. As the kiss deepens, you involuntary clasps his shoulders again as you feel his hands tighten around your skin, holding you higher and closer to him, carrying you to new dizzying heights. He keeps holding you in his embrace as you continue to float in a euphoric state of refuge and delight.

As Arthur's tongue swirls around yours, you suddenly feel titillated with a sensation you haven't felt in days. Electricity ripples through your whole body, reaching its peak just below your waist as you turn hungry for the kind of touch you know only he can give you.

The feeling becomes more pronounced once he motions to lower you to your knees on the bed, searching for a better angle to sink into you. He grabs your hips tightly as he drags them against his own, your center settling at the top of one of his thighs. You find yourself grinding into him, clasping his shoulders to anchor yourself while his hands aid the movement of your thrusts.

When you decide to speak, his tongue leaves your mouth while you continue to straddle his thigh, looking him in the eye to tell him what you want. "Make me feel good, Arthur."

He kisses the side of your mouth tenderly in response. "You sure?" He knows you were in no mood for this last night.

You intensify the motion of your hips and the clutch of your hands. "Yeah. I'm sure."

He doesn't waste time as he reaches for your neck, planting a slobbering kiss there, grabbing your ass to support the movements against his thigh. You're now aching with full-blown desire as you try to get some friction against his leg, slightly grunting in frustration when it's not enough.

He notices your growing eagerness. "It's alright, missy. Let me take care of you." His hands reach under your chemise and grab the inside of your drawers before you feel them sliding down. You stop moving and lift your knees as Arthur takes them off, then raise your arms as he removes your chemise, thanking you with a rowdy peck on your lips.

Arthur’s hands return to your hips and you feel his fingertips running to the underside of your buttocks and squeezing, making you hum with urgency and expectation. You feel yourself getting wetter by the second, the burning in your core becoming impossible to ignore as he reaches around to the apex of your thighs. You grip his shoulders even harder now, mewling into his mouth to make him do something more.

Then you feel one of his fingers reach your folds, separating them before he reaches where your wetness gathers, earning a muffled grunt from him. He slathers your slick around your lips and two of his fingers and you feel your knees begin to shake on top of the mattress from anticipation. His free arm reaches around your back to steady you while his mouth slides down to the side of your neck, letting your mouth gasp directly into his ear. You’re much louder than either of you expect once his fingers finally reach your clit, now rubbed with soft circles that threaten to make you collapse. His hand on your waist keeps you from moving too much while your back begins to arch around his arm, keeping you in his tight brace.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Let me hear you.”

"Faster," you tell him between pants as you start approaching the point of no return.

Arthur picks up the pace, earning louder noises from you as his thumb reaches your clit. He slides his other fingers down to stimulate your entrance, building your arousal to a state of uncontrolled bliss. You're about to tell him to move them inside when he speaks, moving his head to look into your eyes. "It's all right, angel. I've got ya."

As he repeats the three little words he recited last night, the ones that echoed so deeply into you, you finally feel one of his fingers reach inside you, his touch soon finding the spot that makes you glimpse paradise. The simultaneous occurrence makes you sob with unrestrained melodic grunts. "That's it, missy. Keep singing for me, beautiful."

As your mouth hangs open, you feel compelled to keep your eyes on him, even as your head begins to tilt backward, your back sweaty against his bulky arm as you abandon any restraint in his embrace. He slips in another of his fingers, joining in the effort to prod against your wall at a keen pace. Your head falls further as you close your eyes but you feel his hand reach the back of your head, keeping you from dropping into the mattress. "I've got ya, darling. Don't worry." You open your eyes again, wishing to see him as your climax approaches. "Let go for me, missy." You're not sure how his fingers are working you so fast and precisely, but you feel yourself getting closer and closer to what you both want. "Let me feel you, sweetheart." You grunt uncontrollably as you begin to reach the unavoidable. "Show me what you've got."

The snap of the coil inside you comes fast and hard. Your walls flutter around his fingers while your back swerves wildly against his arm, his muscles flexed to keep you steady. A guttural sound leaves your lungs as you taste the sweetness of release, soon turning into oversensitivity as Arthur keeps writhing pleasure from you. You feel your knees quiver against the bed but he's quick to lower his hand to your hip, keeping you balanced as you come down from your high. Despite the overwhelming sensation of your orgasm, you never break eye contact with Arthur. You stare into his blissful reassuring eyes as they tell you he's got you over and over again without saying a word, all the while wringing from you the most depraved feelings of pleasure.

You feel obliged to tell him how much he means to you, how much you're willing to repay him for all his successful efforts in comforting you. You speak between shaky breaths. "You know I've got you too, right?"

His lips form a timid smile as his eyes sparkle even more. "I know, missy." He gives you an affectionate peck on your forehead as he gently removes his fingers from your core, wiping them down on the side of his bloomers. He lowers his arm to hook it under your thighs, laying you softly against the mattress so you can rest from your overexertion. He towers over you as his hands begin to soothe your forearms, caressing you until you even your breathing.

In your state of pure joy, you keep staring at his face, the one you've been carefully examining since you woke up. It's the face of a man that has purposely sought to spend last night and this morning with you and, if yesterday's talk is any indication, he might be spending some other ones too.

You trace your gaze down to his large chest, his soft belly, the patch of hair peeking from his bloomers. The fabric of his underpants is stretched thin as it barely manages to retain his fully hard cock, itching to break free from its enclosure. You were so enraptured in your own pleasure, you've neglected to help Arthur with his own. You decide to make amends as you greedily reach both your hands to his waistband, tugging at it as you threaten to pull it down. "It's your turn now."

He extends out his hands to grab both your wrists, stopping you before he gets some assurance from you. "You ready to go again?" His eyes glimmer with lust and expectation, hungry for an affirmative reply. Your chest swells at the possibility of him giving you more. The thought of thrusting around the hardness in front of you makes you blush, feeling a budding arousal again as you nod.

You whine for him to give you permission to release him. He lets go of one of your wrists from his grip, opening his palm up so he can give you a hand to hold, which you eagerly do. His other grip pushes your hand as you slide the undergarment down, finally freeing him fully.

"You gonna come for me again, angel?"

Your nod is anything if not enthusiastic. He lowers himself so his hips can meet yours, his length now sinfully close to your entrance. His breath is hot over your mouth as he leads the hand he's holding between your bodies, letting it go as he directs your fingers to encircle his pulsing member.

"That's my good girl."

From that moment on, you were his and only his. Even if you didn't know it yet.

—

A/N: Idk why but this one was a pain in the ass to write. Sorry it took so long! I tried to get some fluff in before things get more complicated…

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan smut #goodmorgan

[goodmorgan]

Perfect Strangers

Chapter 3: A Sin to Hang

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

Series Summary: When a stranger appears at your homestead to steal from you, you set out to help him instead. What follows is a reckless relationship with potentially dangerous outcomes.

Chapter Summary: A pleasant afternoon turns into a delightful evening as you and Arthur exchange some intimate confessions.

Word Count: 4.4K

Tags: NSFW. MDNI. 18+. Smut, Porn With Plot, Mutual Pining, Infidelity, Clothed Sex, Vaginal Sex, Pet Name, Mentions of Masturbation Voyeurism and Oral Sex, Teasing, Swearing, Touch-Starved Arthur Morgan

AO3 Link

A/N: This one's just smut. Necessary smut! Things get a lot more intimate!

You should’ve known that satisfying Arthur Morgan wouldn’t be as easy as pie.

As you serve him another slice, you notice the pie you baked earlier now has a 4 o’clock shape, the apple filling spilling over the bottom of the round plate. You wonder how he can eat so much dessert after such a hearty dinner, even for a man of such build.

“This is the best pie I’ve ever had, missy.” Arthur is swift to gobble another bite, downing it with a sip of his whiskey.

“It’s my grandma’s recipe.” You watch attentively as he devours your baking while nibbling on one of the pieces of chocolate Arthur brought you. You hadn’t had some in months and the sweet familiar taste comforts you after such an unpredictable day.

You both eat the dessert each of you got for the other, enjoying your mutually pleasant company in silence as you’re now both perfectly at ease. The night sky has just settled over the horizon and you hear distant whippoorwills outside. Amber and Titus are now sheltered on the stable outback, enjoying the comfort that Arthur spent all day renovating.

Arthur is now wearing a plain white shirt, a spare one he had on his horse since the blue one he wore during the day was stained with your wetness during the afternoon’s recreations. You were insistent to wash it before dinner and now you watch as it dries on the clothesline outside from your living room window.

After a short while, the inevitable happens. Before reaching his mouth, a piece of apple filling lands right on the pristine white on the middle of his shirt. You both chuckle as Arthur reaches for the fallen chunk with his fingers, quickly bringing it to its destination as he places it on his tongue, swallowing as he savors its sweet taste. He licks his fingers, adamant about not letting anything go to waste.

“I’ll get a towel.” You head to the kitchen and wet a tea towel on your sink, hoping to reach him in time before the shirt stains. You swipe the remaining filling off, rubbing at the smudge to try to erase it. It soon becomes apparent the effort is pointless. Another shirt is ruined.

Arthur watches your face attentively as you attempt to salvage it, his chest getting wet as you damp the shirt with the towel. When you let out a frustrated sigh, he places a hand on your jaw, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “It’s no use, darling.”

You’re stubborn enough to keep going. “You don’t happen to have another shirt on your saddle, do you?”

“I’m afraid we’ve ruined all the ones I have.”

You both laugh as Arthur’s thumb continues his motion, moving up as your smile widens. You stop cleaning his shirt, setting the towel down on the table, smoothing the wet spot with your fingers as you try to dry it out. Arthur’s free hand snatches yours away, lifting its back up to his lips to plant a soft kiss as you fix your sight on each other’s gaze. He then smoothly pulls your jaw down, leaning in the rest of the way until he finally kisses you languidly. Then he’s brave enough to part your lips, deepening the kiss as his other hand pulls the rest of your body clumsily onto his lap, a place that’s becoming all too familiar and all too exciting for you.

You prop yourself on his thighs as he begins pulling you downwards into his embrace, eventually sneaking his tongue between your teeth. You find yourself sinking into him while beginning to float all at once.

As he gets more excited, his hands reach for your thighs and he caresses them as he did during the afternoon, before he moved to see if you were ready for his ministrations. Your hips are now intimately close to his and you feel him starting to tent underneath you.

You withdraw from his lips to speak, hoping he doesn’t take you right here and now. “Arthur, the dishes.”

He reaches for your jaw, a subpar replacement for your lips. “What about them?”

“Let me finish them before we start.”

He heads for the crook of your neck. “We don’t need them clean for what we’re doing, darling.”

You let out a scoff. “I hate leaving the kitchen messy overnight.” You straddle his face between your hands. ”You can have me after.”

“You promise?” He’s almost pouting and it’s endearing.

“Yeah, I promise.”

His scowl reaches your lips as he wrings from you a short but passionate kiss before he lets you off his lap. You break from his embrace as you head to the kitchen.

“Bring me the rest of the plates, would you?” You begin to scrub one of the pans you used to make dinner.

He exhales in disappointment. “Yes, ma’am.”

Arthur begins to do as he’s asked, clearing the table a few dishes at a time, brushing sideways behind you as he places them by your side. You notice he gets a little closer with each brush, a move that is certainly intentional, making you giddy. You pretend to ignore his attempts to rattle you, which makes him lean closer every time. He eventually runs out of plates to bring you.

“Can you help me out and dry the washed plates, please?” Your tone is of obliviousness.

Another exhale. “Yes, ma’am.”

He somehow still finds a way to keep brushing past you as he begins to put away the plates and cutlery in their cabinets. You’re doing the final dishes when he finally places his last one, brushing past you again but stopping with his body front facing your back. You feel him sinking into you slowly, putting his hands on your shoulders before he suggestively runs them down your arms, stopping at your bent elbows before he slides them downwards to your waist, leaving their warmth on your hips.

“I haven’t finished the dishes yet, Arthur,” you say almost as a reprimand. You know that he’s fully impatient now, but you’re not above teasing him further.

“I don’t think I can wait, missy.” He lowers his lips to kiss that magical spot below your ear and you try to fight the urge to let your head fall back. He continues to rummage his hands where he pleases, moving from the width of your hips to the small of your back and then forward to the curve of your belly. You can’t be sure if the plate on your hand is already clean as you become increasingly distracted, so you keep scrubbing, applying more pressure as he does the same to you.

“I’m almost done.” A few dishes still remain.

“You better be.” His face creeps up on your collarbone and you feel his hot breath on your neck, the sensation so intoxicating you're surprised when his fingers reach the underside of your breasts. You respond by holding your own breath but when he finally cups them fully in his palms you can’t help but let out a ragged sigh. When he lightly squeezes them, your sharp whimper is perceptibly loud and it echoes directly into his ear.

He purrs in response. “Enjoying this, are we?”

You’re so delighted to be in his embrace you stop moving your hands, savoring as he encapsulates your frame. This only encourages him further and he pushes his whole torso onto your back, taking a deep breath to smell your hair as he switches sides, soon nibbling at your other ear. His hips lean heavily into yours and, even with the fabric of your skirt and his pants in the way, you feel his hard bulge pressing against your ass, sending a hot wave of desire through your whole body.

Arthur suddenly begins to suck the spot below your ear, which makes you let out another gasp, making him more determined, tightening his hold of your bosoms. You continue to fail at remaining quiet, especially when you begin to feel him rubbing himself over your, strategically moving his pelvis to create enough friction to alleviate his growing stiffness. You lean your hands over the edge of the sink to ground yourself as you lift your buttocks higher to meet his grinding, chasing the euphoria of the moment. He responds by letting out a long-repressed groan, making his chest vibrate against your back. It feels too good not to keep pressing against him, especially as the movements become less restrained.

“You know, I could just come like this,” he admits. The image is heavy fuel to the fire in your core and you feel yourself twitching as you become wetter. “Is that what you want?”

Your instinct is to immediately say yes. You imagine him rocking into you vigorously, clutching your hips to keep them from moving. You’d hear his obscene groans directly in your ear as he brings himself closer to release, making you reach underneath your skirt to find some consolation. You figure you’d unravel by the sounds he would make as he’d make a mess on his jeans, another garment to wash before your sinfulness hangs in the clothesline to dry again.

But then you think of the past few days, how you had touched yourself to the idea of him bringing you to the edge while sinking into you, his thick length the reason you came apart. The one thing that you didn't get on the night you met. It has nagged you too much not to recall it now.

You seem to get lost in your reasoning as he's insistent to ask you again. “Is that what you want, missy?”

You grip the stone of the sink tighter, scared you’ll disappoint him with your answer. “I’m sorry, Arthur. No.” Your voice quietens at the end.

He hears you perfectly though and upon your last word he stops his grinding, reaching for your waist before he turns you around so he can look at you, concern in his eyes. “What is it that you want then?” He can tell you have something on your mind as he tightens his hands on your hips, kissing your jaw lightly to put you at ease. “Tell me what you want and I'll do it.”

You’re a little reticent to tell him, but he seems sincerely interested in your pleasure. He leans his lips into your neck so you take the chance to whisper into his ear. “I need you inside me.”

He hums at your suggestion. “Yeah?” He resumes rolling his hips lazily. “What else?”

You trail his ear as he deepens his hold on you, placing his palms on your back. “I need you to make me come.”

He rises to look at your face, a slight smirk on his lips. “You wanna come around my cock, huh?”

You nod gently, palming the side of one of his moving thighs.

He hovers over your lips. "Naughty little thing, ain't ya?" You close the gap between your mouths, answering his question affirmatively.

Arthur finally gives you the ardent kiss you seek, pulling you closer as his hands run down to your ass, grabbing at you desperately. His rutting fastens as you thrust yourself into him as well, both of you needy with unashamed desire. Your hands are still wet and soapy from the dishes but you sink them onto his shoulder blades with gusto, further ruining his stained shirt. When you feel his erection poking into your thigh, you lean crudely into his center so it prods directly on your pulsing core. The blinding stimulation frees from you your biggest moan of the night.

He lets go of your lips to look at you again, not pausing his movements for a second. "Maybe we should stop." Neither of you do.

“What for?” You’re too lost to understand why.

"You haven't finished the dishes yet, missy." He lands his joke with a satisfying grin.

You respond with a hiccuped sneer. "I don't care, Arthur."

"I thought you didn't like messes." He sinks into your neck again.

You like to fight fire with fire. "Why don't you make a mess of me again and we find out?" Your tone is more challenging than humorous.

He suddenly stops his hips as he raises his head and you see his gaze is completely overcome with lust now. “Let’s get you out of these clothes then. Before you have to wash them too.”

Arthur practically drags you to the bedroom before he sits on the bed, working quickly to remove your blouse while you begin to undo your skirt for the second time today.

“You sure you’re ready again, missy? You’re not sore from this afternoon?” He looks at you while he slides the top from your shoulders.

You shake your head, desperate to relieve your arousal again. The pleasure he gave you a few hours ago seems to have been wiped from your memory as you’re more than ready for another round. “I need you, Arthur.”

Your skirt finally falls on the floor on top of the blouse and you feel Arthur pulling at your drawers until they reach your ankles. You step out of them while you remove your chemise.

His eyes are now facing your bare folds and he parts them lightly to see how aroused you already are. “Hmm. So wet already.” He reaches for your hips, pushing you on top of him again. ”Such a good girl for me.” He clasps your shoulders as he swiftly swaddles you down to lay you flat on the bed, pressing his chest against yours before he lands on his feet, already working his damp shirt.

You watch as Arthur unbuckles himself, removing his boots before letting his pants fall next to your clothes. His already stiff length is protruding inside his underpants, now considerably stained, no doubt the result of his fervent grinding on you. It dismays you when he doesn't remove his shaft right away. Instead, he climbs on top of you on the bed, caging you beneath him, being careful enough to keep his hips from touching you.

"What was it you wanted again, darling?" He leans down for a quick kiss.

"You inside me." You reach for his shoulders, trying to force him to come down on you.

“And how much do you want it, missy?” He starts pecking your collarbone.

“So much, Arthur.” You're growing uncomfortably desperate, so you jolt your hips trying to try to meet his.

He chuckles. "I can see that. Did you touch yourself while I was gone?”

How does he know, you wonder. "Yeah." You try to reach his waist again.

"When?"

"Every day." You thrust again.

He looks up at you. "Every day, huh? What did you think about?" There's a snooty smirk forming on his face.

“I thought about you being inside me.” Your tone reeks of impatience as you become frustrated by his unyieldingness. You hook one of your legs around his back but he doesn't give in.

"Yeah, and did you come?" He sounds and looks beyond pleased with your confession.

"Every time." You remember that to get to a man you get through his ego. "Some days more than once." Your other leg joins the other and it manages to lower him a bit, his undergarment slightly brushing your core.

He fixes his greedy eyes on you. "On which days, missy?"

You deliver your coup de grace. "All of them."

"Oh, you're killing me." He succumbs fully to the pressure now, not just of your insistence but of his throbbing cock, reaching for your warmth to appease the unbearable ache inflamed by your words. He sinks into your neck as he writhes you hungrily, his covered erection rubbing your folds apart, exposing your swollen clit to his frenzied movements as you begin to lose composure.

"Arthur, I need you inside me!"

He fastens his squirming as you feel him twitching at your words. "We'll get there, missy."

"I won't last long!" You cry out petulantly, feeling pathetic that you're this aroused after what you got this afternoon.

You get his attention as he surfaces, swiping your lips with his thumb. "Well, let's make sure your dreams come true then."

It's pure torture when Arthur stops moving, lifting his whole upper body as he kneels by your thighs, towering over you as you watch him lowering his underpants to let out his fully hard cock, its head beading, begging for attention. Your hips jolt reflexively at the sight, unable to do much under his weight. He reaches for his shaft to pump a few lazy strokes to smear it with his precum as his thumb works the head. He continues even when he lifts one knee at a time to remove the garment, releasing a few huffs of gratification.

"You ready to take me?" He gets faster as his hand glides easier around its member.

"God, yes! Arthur!" Your whole body moves with restlessness as you clutch the sheets beneath you. "Inside!"

He moves his free hand to part your legs, placing a knee between them as he curls one of your legs around his back. His other knee joins the other as he bends your other leg to make you open wide for him. "I'm gonna tell you a secret." He bends downwards to place his smeared head at your entrance as you dig your nails into the white cotton threads. He kisses your lips annoyingly tame. "Wanna hear it?"

Your shaking turns into a nod. "Yes!"

He guides his cock upwards to reach your clit, the move so intense you bolt your head sideways and close your eyes. Arthur's hand reaches your cheek to make sure you look at him, his fingers smelling of his heat. You open your mouth as you feel his hardness return to your entrance, ready to swallow him whole.

He delivers his own finishing blow. "I touched myself thinking about you too."

Arthur begins to enter you, slow but steady, and you suddenly think you're about to black out, your senses clouded by the intensity of the moment as you take in his cock and his words. The thought that he chased his pleasure thinking about you just like you thought about him sends you flying, crashing as you begin to feel him filling you, reaching your spot of untamed delight. You swap the grasp of the flimsy sheets for the strength of his shoulders, as he deepens himself into you, recreating the dream you kept yearning for in the past few days.

He begins to share his own dream. "Thought about you taking me like this too," he reveals through ragged breaths that fall on your mouth. "All warm and tight. Just for me." He steadies himself on his elbows as his legs begin to tremble slightly. "Here to feed me and save me. So good for me." His hands reach for your shoulders as he begins to angle down further. "An angel from heaven." You would think this corny if you could think. "Sent down to fuck me."

You feel your chest heaving with what must be sharps wails but you're only able to hear the words coming out of his mouth, trembling at his every remark. When you finally feel him reach your hilt, you're amazed you haven't finished yet, blindsided by something beyond any of your waking fantasies.

Arthur stills himself as he lets you adjust to his significant size, toying with your bottom lip as he bottoms out. “Oh, fuck, you fit me so well, missy.”

You ache at the lack of his thrusts, so you do some of your own. "Arthur!" You tell him something you've never told another man in bed. "Please!"

He must notice the desperation in your eyes and your voice because he budges, rolling out a slow buck of his hips. "This what you want, angel?" Your moan comes from deep in your throat. "For me to fuck you?" Another roll. "My perfect fucking angel." He begins to set a rhythmic languid pace as he lowers his mouth to one of your breasts, teasing your other one with his fingers. His broken name begins to echo throughout the room, each time followed by one of his mind-numbing thrusts. You tighten the hold of your hands and legs around him, trying to consume a body almost double your size, convinced to devour him whole.

You're disheartened when he stops telling you of his time away. "How'd you have me? In your touch?" You fail to form comprehensible sentences.

Somehow he understands you. "Thought about you stroking my cock with your pretty little fingers. Like you did the other day by the fire." He keeps pecking your tit as he speaks in short bursts, his breath hitching further. "That it was your hand instead of mine. At the end of the day. On my bed. In my tent." His tongue slides in and out of his mouth to rile you up. "A few times I had to stop. By the road. Behind a tree."

You're so close now, you can feel it. If only he keeps talking. You shout his name again, hoping he continues. He does. "Thought about your mouth. Sucking. On your knees." His own knees are now bouncing on the mattress as his motions become more erratic. "One time. At the farrier. Had to go outside. Thinking of you. Your hand and your mouth. Couldn't help it. A lady saw me. Didn't say nothing. Just left." He sucks on your nipple for a moment. "But that's not how I ended."

"How?" you let out between moans.

"I was inside you. Like this. Tight. So fucking tight." He lifts his head and you find his gaze. "Squeezing my cock. Hard." He licks his lips, setting now a dramatic pace as he steers his cock down to hit the sacred spot inside you again and again. "Need you to repeat it, missy." He tries to kiss you as you grit your teeth. “Need you to be a good girl for me.”

Nothing about what happens next is calm or collected as you near the point of no return, shutting your eyes closed as his request reaches your ears. You must look hysterical as your whole body braces for the inevitable, already eclipsing this afternoon's debauchery. You undulate carelessly under the confinement of his frame as his cock slams into you with unrelenting force.

"Come around me, girl." He feels your muscles clenching rapidly around him. "Like that. Yeah." Animalistic grunts cascade from his words. "Just like that. Come for me." You feel your muscles begin to lose any control they have left. "Come on, missy. Do this for me. Be my pretty little angel." His wish is granted as you finally reach the edge, turning both your lewd fantasies into delectable reality as you come around him.

Your husband's bed creaks loudly under you as you ascend a heaven he never even prayed for you, wrapped around another man as he calls you his angel.

"Oh, fuck, missy. Fuck." Arthur's plunges get brusque as your climax makes him approach his own, gripping your hips tightly as you toss uncontrollably from the overwhelming sensation. He revels in your oversensitive state as you attempt to subdue his force unsuccessfully. His moans start getting louder as yours subside. You open your eyes to see his face recoiling in ecstasy as he struggles to hold on.

A few seconds later he finally removes his cock from you as he reaches the finish line, stroking himself to completion, slathering your stomach with his warm white spend, marking you with his sinful elation.

This is the second time now he has climaxed on you, but this time he releases himself with more composure, lasting longer, the effort of someone regaining his footing on a forgotten skill. You can tell this round was more enjoyable to him, like it was to you, both of you enraptured by the bliss of intimacy.

"Christ, missy." He opens his eyes as he continues to hold himself, running on empty. He exhales a cackle as he looks down at you, both of you already able to breathe again. "You look a fright, darling. Let's get you cleaned up." Arthur gets up to reach for the towel hanging from your vanity before nestling between your thighs again, your legs still open from exhaustion. He begins to clean the spill he made with smooth wipes.

"Now that's the kind of mess I like," you joke, watching his delicate handling of your skin. He chuckles as he finishes, throwing the towel on the floor. Another sin to hang on the clothesline.

Arthur leans over to your side, lying next to you as you embrace him, settling your head over his chest. You hear his heartbeat return to its usual crawl underneath you as he soothes your stilling sweaty back.

"That was something else, Y/N."

You leap at your name and you turn your head to see his lashes looking down at you. "Yeah?"

"Really something."

"For me too," you finally say, forming a smile. "Thank you."

He rubs the thumb on your back more noticeably. "No. Thank you, angel." He places a soft kiss on your temple.

You wait for a moment before you're bold enough to ask. "Did you really think about me? Like that? These past few days?"

"Yeah." He pauses for a moment before he words his confession. "I- I haven't been with someone else… for a while now. Like we've been." It pains him to admit it. "I guess I'd forgotten what it was like until the other day."

You try to set him at ease with your own admission. "Out here, by myself. It gets lonely too."

Arthur's lips stretch shyly from your empathy before he places another chaste kiss on your forehead, relieved to find solace in you. He leaves his lips there as you two savor the closeness neither of you has had recently.

When Arthur is relaxed enough to feel the weight of sleep bearing down on him, he's careful to prop you on a pillow, thinking you feel the heaviness settling in too, reaching stealthily down for the quilt. He begins to cover you when he sees you're still very much awake.

You prop yourself up on a bent elbow. "At the farrier? Really?"

He sighs heavily as he realizes he still has plenty to put up with before he gets you to sleep.

-

A/N: Chapter 4 coming very very soon!

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan smut #goodmorgan

[goodmorgan]

Arthur smoking Hosea’s tossed cigarette in “The Spines of America”

#arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2edit #arthurmorganedit #read dead redemption #rdredit #rdr2 fanfic #hosea matthews #arthur morgan is not a himbo #but this is some himbo energy right here #sometime while making this #i thought of the trashman bit from iasip #idk why #local man picks up father's trash; smokes it #very much a iasip vibe #also idk why i bother stealing so many cigarettes #if he's just gonna pick them up #from the floor #goodmorgan

[goodmorgan]

Colter Close-ups (2/2)

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2edit #arthurmorganedit #gamingedit #red dead redemption arthur #read dead redemption #rdr #coltercloseups #goodmorgan #colter arthur #colter

[goodmorgan]

Colter Close-ups (1/2)

#arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2edit #arthurmorganedit #gamingedit #red dead redemption arthur #read dead redemption #coltercloseups #goodmorgan #cw long post #long post #colter arthur is v important #colter arthur #colter

[goodmorgan]

Perfect Strangers

Chapter 2: A Debt To Repay

(Chapter 1)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

Series Summary: When a stranger appears at your homestead to steal from you, you set out to help him instead. What follows is a reckless relationship with potentially dangerous outcomes.

Chapter Summary: When Arthur keeps his promise and returns, he's determined to repay his debt to you in more than one way.

Word Count: 5.4K

Tags: NSFW. MDNI. 18+. Smut, Porn With Plot, Oral Sex (f! receiving), Fingering, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Infidelity, Arthur gives reader a pet name

AO3 Link

A/N: The chapter has spoilers for the first one obvs. For the sake of the story, I have given reader a last name. However, Arthur decides to give her a pet name all of his own...

"To my dearest wife, Mrs. Brooks,

I hope my letter finds you in agreeable health and blithe spirit. I am fortunate to write this in the same state of body and mind.

I am writing to inform you that my return home from Annesburg has been regrettably delayed again. Mr. Jameson has instructed me to remain as bookkeeper for the upcoming months, expressing modest satisfaction with my employment. I do not know yet when I’ll be able to visit you.

I hear whispers that the head bookkeeper, Mr. Muller, my superior, might be retiring by the end of this year, which would make me a potential candidate for his position. I plan on proving my worth in the meantime so that I might be given preferential treatment when the time comes for his replacement. I would like to discuss this in greater detail with you on our next meeting.

Business is flourishing despite minor mishaps at the mine hindering our profit. The papers have callously depicted the pristine working conditions of our miners, whom I assure you are treated and provided for in the most respectable manner. Please refrain from reading such worthless gossip and know I am secure from bodily or spiritual harm.

Mr. Jameson has generously provided compensation for postponing my visit. I trust that you will able to retrieve it at the Valentine Savings Bank, like on previous occasions. Please be mindful to spend it wisely and sparingly.

I bid you farewell with the optimism that we will see each other very soon. In the meantime, I'll see you in my most tender dreams.

Be well and let bygones be just that.

Your doting husband,

Stanley Oliver Brooks"

It has always struck you as appropriate that your husband's initials are S.O.B.

You can't think of a more fitting term for him, even after the last letter he sent, his words leaving you again sick to your stomach as you reread them. While you sigh of relief for his foreseeable absence in the next few months, you're disgusted by his artificial affection and concern for you. If only the man of his letters were real.

You close shut the drawer containing his correspondence with a thud, hearing your wedding ring clang inside. You haven't worn it in months, preferring to not wear a constant reminder of him on you.

You go into the kitchen to find something useful you can do, keeping your mind and hands busy with toil usually helps forget him. You decide to bake a pie with the rest of the apples you have left.

You reach for the flour in your cupboard when you hear the distant sound of horses approaching, making you turn around sharply, grabbing the shotgun by the door. It's now a mechanical instinct for you, having done it hundreds of times since you've lived out here alone. Nothing has passed during that time to upset the peaceful life you lead, so you mostly do it out of precaution. The only major cause of concern happened a few days back when you saw a strange man wander into your front yard, picking one of your apples. Luckily, he was the best thing that happened to you in a long time.

You don't dare risk your luck again so you step out onto the porch quickly, getting ready to ward off any intruder. It's only when you have him in your line of sight that you see the approaching target.

It's Arthur Morgan. At last.

It has been five whole days since he left with your mare Amber. His promise to return hanged in the air since like the sun rays that get you up in the morning, sweet and inviting. You would have never imagined you'd miss someone this much, let alone someone you only knew for a few spellbinding hours.

The man you met intimately last week is now riding a powerful brown stallion, an adequate choice for him, both of them equally imposing to the eye. Amber gallops by their side appearing smaller but just as graceful and well-kept, her golden coat shining in the morning sun. Arthur slows down both horses to a trot as he enters your front yard, letting out an "Easy now" as he pulls on the reins. The closer he gets to you, the better you can see the quiet tender smile on his lips, one too unseemly for such a big man riding such a big horse.

Arthur looks much improved since the last and only time you saw him, now wearing clean clothes that highlight his threatening physique. A polished, perhaps new, slightly too tight, blue shirt brings out his eyes as they shimmer under the shadow of his familiar hat. The bruises on his face have almost healed and you can see the scar on his chin more clearly now that he has trimmed his beard. The satchel you gave him is still draping the same shoulder he hung it on and an impressive gun belt sits on his hips, two heavy weapons anchoring him. Your eyes can barely register all of this as you keep ogling his scene-stealing smile.

"You greet everyone with that shotgun of yours or just me?" he quips from atop his horse as he prepares to dismount. Hearing the soothing lilt of his voice again fills you with unabashed joy.

"Just men I have over for dinner. Or men who take my horse. Or both."

Arthur lets out a few chuckles as he stomps on the ground, heading towards the rails of your porch to hitch his horse. You head toward Amber, petting her forehead to say hello and she neighs back, saying she missed you too. You give her some more attention before you feel Arthur standing behind you, waiting his turn to get your sweet attention too.

"Was she a good girl?" you ask him when you finally turn around and meet his enigmatic gaze, his face barely a few inches from yours. His smile seems to be stuck in place.

"Yeah, she's a swell ride. Didn't work her too hard, I promise."

"And who's that?" You nod towards the brown stallion now grazing your lawn.

"That's Titus. He's new. Still a little jumpy."

"Well, I'm sure you'll tame him in no time."

"Yeah, I'll get him there."

When your spoken conversation halts, your unspoken one continues as you keep eyeing each other. There's a magnetic push forcing you together, an invisible pull holding you apart. Small wrinkles appear and dissolve on your faces as fleeting hints of your nervousness. Your heartbeats are a little faster than their resting rates. Your eyelashes suddenly work overtime. The breeze cools your sweaty temples as you both sway in place, waiting to see who will make the first move, who will be the one to break off the impasse. Make or break. Push and pull. A seductive stalemate.

"How’ve you been?" Like a hesitant player with a winning hand, you fold.

"Just fine. Better. Alive, thanks to you."

"I'm glad." You feel your cheeks move to form an unstoppable smile.

"I've come to repay my debt, as a matter of fact."

"Oh, really?" You pretend to have forgotten all about it, like it hasn't occupied your mind every single waking hour for the past few days. "And how do you plan on doing that?"

"I have something in mind. But first I'm gonna need your help with something.”

You watch as he moves back to his horse and you follow him, hitching Amber next to Titus. Arthur removes a brown bag from one of his saddlebags. "Here, hold this." It's heavier than you expected. He moves to the other side of the horse to retrieve a smaller bag. "Grab this one too.” You steady yourself as he hands it to you and you start to struggle with the weight of both bags. "Get those inside, would ya?"

“Mr. Morgan, what is this?"

"Just get them inside. I'll show ya."

You're already climbing the stairs to head inside when Arthur finally unropes the big package that was stowed on the back of his horse. By the way he holds it, it seems even heavier.

When you finally place the two bags down on your kitchen counter, Arthur's already right behind you, setting down the package next to the bags. He opens one of them and reaches inside, handing you a potato the size of his fist.

"Thought I'd bring back some things you might need. To replace all the food I ate the other day."

You watch as he starts to empty the bag on the counter, first reaching for potatoes, carrots and onions and then for handfuls of green beans and peas. He retrieves a few shucked corncobs, some turnips. You peek inside the other bag to see that it has a few loaves of bread.

"Now, the only thing I didn't get you was apples, but I figured you might still have a few of those."

"This is too much." You finally express your surprise.

"Well, I did eat too much."

"Not this much, no!"

"It's nothing, really. Why don't you open up the rest for me and I'll get the game I hunted?"

You watch him leave before you finally open the big boxed package. Laying on top you find a few red tins of biscuits and half a dozen chocolate bars. You lift them to find cans of coffee, beans, peaches and salmon. You spot the neck of a bottle of whiskey, an expensive kind by the look of it. A small wheel of cheese is stuck in a corner.

You're still deep in astonishment when you see him walk back in, a couple of rabbits hanging from one hand and a duck from the other. You can't help but laugh at the image. "You steal a grocer on the way over here or something? How much do you think I eat?"

"Just trying to make sure I do right by you, miss. Don't want you thinking I'm so kind of grifter."

"But I didn't give you any chocolate. Or biscuits!" You raise one of the tins in incredulity.

"Oh, that's something I thought you deserved."

Your heart flutters at his words. "Well, you better be staying for dinner because there's no way I can eat this all by myself!" It's only when the words are out of your mouth that you realize how eager you are to replicate the other night.

"I'd be happy to." He accepts your invitation without a fuss. There’s a certain easefulness in your conversation now that you're better acquainted and you both know your attraction is mutual. It doesn’t surprise you that he says yes.

You look back to the goods now cluttering your counter and wonder if you have space in your cupboards to keep it all.

"I was actually hoping you'd let me borrow some of your tools, so I can settle my debt like I promised."

You turn around surprised once again. "Isn't this the repayment you had in mind?" You gesture toward the supplies on the counter.

"No, ma'am. I was thinking I could help you fix your stable. I went to get Amber the other day and I saw that some of the walls need mending and the roof needs fixing. I'd be happy to do it if you let me."

You've been meaning to hire someone to do that for months. It's touching that Arthur noticed and wants to help you out. You don't see a reason not to let him.

"That would be fine, Mr. Morgan. I have some tools here." You reach for your toolbox under the kitchen sink. "There's more of them somewhere in the stable. I'm sure you can find them. Are you sure you don't mind? I don't want to impose."

He takes the toolbox as you hand it to him. "I'm more than happy to help, miss." He gives you a reassuring smile. "I'll get started right away if you don't mind."

“Sure. I'll fix us some lunch later. I'll come to get you when it's ready."

"Thank you." He nods politely before he excuses himself and you watch through the kitchen window as he stops to pat Titus before heading to the stable out back.

You are now stuck with the ordeal of putting away all of the food Arthur brought, rearranging the cupboards to fit it all. You smile as you store the biscuits and the bars on a shelf, wondering what kind of man brings so much chocolate to repay a lady. Something I thought you deserved, he said. But it's not just chocolate, it's a whole array of goods, including meats he took time to hunt and skin to purposely bring to you. You realize he's been thinking of you as much as you've been thinking about him, even though a week ago you were just complete strangers. Your thoughts are interrupted once you hear sudden loud rhythmic hammering outside, the continuing of Arthur's restitution.

Everything is in its place once you remember you were going to bake an apple pie before you were so delightfully interrupted. You think it's an even better idea now that Arthur is staying over for dinner. And lunch. Somehow you've captivated him enough to spend the whole day here with you. You hope he'll be spending the night too.

It gets harder to focus on the pie as you recall the night of intimacy the two of you spent the other day. Your chest rises and your breath hisses at the thought that you might be repeating it tonight. As you mix and mold the dough on your steady hands, you think of his large ones caressing you once again, first through your clothes and then on your skin, leaving his mark again on your faltering hips as he gives into you for the second time. You'll be sure to ask him to let you finish around him first this time, the idea having plagued you since then.

The oven is already hot once you absentmindedly finish assembling the pie, the apples now carefully stuffed inside the crust. As it bakes, you get working on lunch, made with some of the ingredients Arthur brought, a simple soup with plenty of potatoes and some sandwiches. You remove the pie from the oven and leave it to cool on the window sill before you go call Arthur for your meal.

When you reach the stable you find him crouched on top of the roof, nailing down some pieces of wood to cover a hole. He’s working shirtless and the late morning sun is making him sweat profusely, deepening his permanent tan. He’s so focused on his task he doesn’t see you approach. “Mr. Morgan, lunch is ready!”

Your voice is loud enough to make him turn to see you. “I’ll be right in, miss.”

When you’re nearly back at the house, you watch from afar as he climbs down the ladder, reaching for a bucket of water to refresh himself, scrubbing off the sweat with a damp rag. You leave when you see him buttoning his shirt, tucking it into his pants, priming himself for another meal with you.

By the time he gets inside, you’re already serving two bowls of steaming hot soup. “This looks mighty fine, miss.” He gives you a satisfied grin before he stops in his tracks and turns around to peek inside the kitchen, having caught the smell of your freshly baked treat. “Is that pie?”

“Yes, it’s cooling so you’re going to have to wait for dinner, I’m afraid.”

“I look forward to it.” He sits down on the same chair he did last time, just as anxious to dig in as five days ago. But this time he’s not as hungry, so he engages in lively conversation with you.

He mostly tells you what’s new in Valentine, curious happenings that have gone down in the past few weeks, things he’s heard around town and seen in the papers. He even gossips with you about a well-known cattle rancher caught having an affair with the butcher’s wife. The story seems to delight him immensely since apparently they ended up slimed in the rancher’s own pigpen in the middle of the town.

You would find the story amusing if it didn’t remind you that you too are a wife with your own infidelity now. The idea of ending up in a pigpen after being exposed for your transgression seems incredibly bleak. You busy yourself with the dishes to dispel the thought from your mind.

But when Arthur raises from his chair, letting out a long sustained breath, stretching out his enormous body inside your small cottage, you are reacquainted with the lust you have for the man. As you recall the intimate actions that make up your infidelity, your first thought is to wonder how soon you will be able repeat them. The hope that it will be tonight makes you weak with excitement. Maybe ending up in a pigpen isn’t so bad.

“Well, I best get back to it if I’m gonna finish today.” He stops before he crosses the threshold, returning his hat to his place. “The food was very tasty, miss. Thank you.” You both smile briefly at each other.

While he resumes fixing the stable, you return to your chores until you are suddenly left drowsy by the afternoon heat, deciding to rest your eyes for a moment in the comfort of your sofa, the sound of Arthur’s hammer lulling you to sleep.

It's late afternoon when you wake from your nap and you notice how quiet it is, the hammering having stopped. You figure it’s best to go see if Arthur needs any help, bringing with you a pitcher of lemonade to refresh him from a sunny day’s hard labor.

You find him still working inside the stable, his shirt, hat and gun belt hanging on the hooks where you keep some ropes. This time he hears you approach with the pitcher and two glasses in hand.

“Thought you might be thirsty, Mr. Morgan. Got you something to drink.”

“That’s very kind of you, miss. Just give me a second.”

You watch as he picks up a few bales of hay on the other side of the stable and he places them on top of the others, finishing setting them up in a neat pyramid by where you’re standing.

"I think that about does it,” he says.

You survey the small stable as you notice the impressive result of his craftsmanship, every hole now covered and every wooden board now in its place. He even went to the trouble of tidying up the space, neatly arranging everything to make it more functional. It looks like a brand new stable.

You serve him a glass of lemonade as he joins you. “The stable looks wonderful, Mr. Morgan. I’ve never seen it so tidy!”

“I’m glad you like it.” He sits down on a bale as he finally rests for the day, sipping half a glass in just a few gulps.

You serve yourself and put down the pitcher, sitting on a nearby stool, continuing to admire his handiwork. Amber will surely enjoy living here again, you think. It takes only a few seconds before your eyes circle back to where Arthur is and you notice he’s staring at you. You stare right back.

There’s a slight breeze coming in from the windows but neither of you is swaying in place now, sitting perfectly still as you observe the other. You are once again victims of a push and pull, a make or break. That goddamn seductive stalemate.

Except this time, it’s him that breaks. “Come here.” Arthur’s voice suddenly sounds deeper as he sets his glass on the floor, his other hand reaching out for you. You leave your own glass on the stool as you hold out to touch his palm.

When he finally holds you in his hand, you feel yourself being pulled closer to him, forcefully landing on his lap. Your faces remain somber as you’re now close enough to inspect each other’s irises, continuing that wordless exchange you’ve been having all day. The standoff ends when Arthur chases your lips with his, finally free to crash into each other like you’ve been so hungry to do. Nothing about it is tender as the kisses you share turn ravenous, no longer restricted by the pretense of propriety. You have slept together, after all.

It takes a while until both of you are satisfied, decreasing the intensity of each kiss as you pause to look at each other’s eyes, basking in the glow of being wanted so deeply by the other. Soon his warm lips rub against yours more softly, delicately even, and his tongue stops chasing yours. He settles down by placing short pecks on your chin and jaw, as you gently caress his back and neck. You remain in his embrace as you lean your forehead onto his and he gently removes loose strands of hair from your cheeks.

"I'm sorry I was selfish the other night,” he murmurs. You respond to his apology by lifting your head in confusion. “I was in such a hurry I didn't let you finish first." The fact that he cares about it makes you ache with renewed desire.

"That's ok. It looked like you needed it more than I did.” You pause as he reaches quickly for your lips again. “And, boy, did I need it!” He lets out a few soft chuckles in that drawl of his.

His gaze is suddenly serious. "Let me make it up to you."

“Now?”

He nods. “Now.”

He reaches for the warmth of your thighs underneath your skirt, the ones he’s been fondling this whole time. He squeezes them tightly a few times before he suddenly pulls at your drawers and slides a hand inside, reaching your core with a couple of fingers. You feel them slide between your folds and rub the spot where your slick is. “Good, you’re already wet.” You feel a jolt of ecstasy through your entire body at the brief maneuver so when he removes his hands from you it feels physically devastating and you let out a small whimper.

“I’m gonna take care of you, don’t worry. Just take off your clothes for me, would ya?” Arthur suddenly reaches for his glass of lemonade.

“Here?”

He nods. “Here.”

It’s a rather odd moment when you realize that somehow you trust this semi-stranger, barely-acquaintance drifter completely. He’s asking you to get naked for him in the middle of your stable, in broad daylight, and yet you don’t even bat an eye. You’re quick to grant his wish as you start unbuttoning your simple blouse, soon exposing your chemise to him as he takes a few sips of his drink. You drop your top on the floor as you get up from Arthur’s lap to remove your skirt and throw your drawers to the side, with only one piece of clothing left to remove.

Arthur rises from his seat and soon hovers over you to plant another kiss, this one more forceful as he parts your lips with his, slippery from the lemonade. He lingers a while before retreating, forcing himself apart from you to swoop up your chemise as it passes between your bodies. He takes a moment to look down at you and you’re very aware that you are now standing there naked and barefoot. “You’re so beautiful.” He sees you wince at his compliment. “Really, you are.” He softly caresses the side of your arms before leaning in for another demanding kiss and you feel your bare breasts touching his bare chest, his warmth enveloping you as you shiver from his touch and the light breeze entering the stable.

He lets go of your mouth to plant sensual kisses on your jaw, slithering steadily down your neck, quickly reaching your collarbone. He then trails further down as he reaches one of your breasts, lingering his tongue on your nipple, making you steady yourself on his shoulders. He slides further down to your belly, then to your navel, stopping just as he hits your mound, planting soft kisses there. His last one is right above your parting of the folds, making your whole body shudder. He gets up again to look you in the eyes. “So beautiful.” A final kiss lands on your upper lips.

He pauses before he asks his next question. “You have any neighbors, miss?”

You are completely surrounded by the woods. There isn’t another soul for miles. “No, why?"

"In case you get loud."

You watch in place as he goes to retrieve his shirt and for a moment you think he’s going to get dressed. Then he heads to the bales of hay he had been sitting on, unfurling his shirt on top. He grabs your hand and beckons you: “Sit.” You’re confused by his intentions and it shows. “Sit here, come on.” He pats the fabric of his shirt, tugging your hand with his other one. You slowly do so, still not understanding what he wants.

Once you sit down, your bare ass lying on top of Arthur’s shirt, you follow his lead and he grabs both your knees gently, making you turn to the side. You watch as he suddenly kneels himself down in front of you, moving his hands down to your calfs, lifting your legs up. Without any warning he starts pecking one of your knees, placing the other on his shoulder. “You gonna be loud for me, beautiful?” His beard lightly scratches you as he switches legs. “You gonna be loud while you come around my mouth?”

His words make you inhale sharply as you realize what he’s going to do to you.

“Is that a yes, miss?”

You nod, shaking with anticipation. “Yes.”

He pulls your body closer to him, positioning your hips at the edge of the bale, making you lean on your elbows, fully lying on the comfort of his shirt.

His light kissing on your legs starts out feeling like gentle tickling but soon becomes sensual smears as he starts working on your inner thighs. The kisses then get longer and bolder as he closes in on the meeting of your thighs, forcing you to breathe more heavily. He starts using more tongue too, which increases the feeling wildly. By the time he reaches the apex of your thigh, you’re completely dizzy with his teasing, involuntarily closing your eyes as your breath hitches.

“Christ, darling, I haven’t even sucked you yet.”

You watch as Arthur lowers his face once more, a smirk disappearing behind the shape of your mound. He kisses the bridge between your thigh and your slit, which distracts you from his other hand as it sneakily reaches the meeting of your folds. He parts them slowly with a single finger, starting at the top of the clit and only stopping at the bottom of your entrance. You let out a prolonged loud moan, which makes him raise his head, watching your face as he then slides the same finger all the way back up, smearing your slick along its path. You get louder as he pauses directly on your clit, swirling it a few times. After so much teasing, having direct contact is so intense that your head finally hits the hay.

The reaction suddenly feels premature once you finally feel him start what he’s set out to do. Arthur lowers his head again, only this time his lips land right on yours, circling your clit in the gentlest kiss of the afternoon. Your whole body shakes at his subdued but blinding touch.

The coil inside your lower abdomen starts to wind as you feel the tip of his tongue make direct contact with your bud, its surface now angled perfectly to drive you wild. He continues the motion even as you writhe under him, now clutching his hair to ground yourself, your legs pressing his body down onto you as your back begins to curve. Rather than pull away from your tight embrace, he sinks deeper into you, holding your hips steady from their bucking as he continues to lap you lewdly, the sound only muffled by your own salacious moaning. His tongue is relentless in his pursuit of your pleasure and you think you won’t last very long.

The obscenity of the moment is not lost on you, as you lift your head momentarily to see what is happening. There is a tall handsome cowboy down on his knees for you, using his whole mouth to draw from you the most perverted noises, on the verge of making you crumble to the most erotic thing anyone has ever done for you. In the middle of your stable, of all places. You thank the heavens you don’t have any neighbors. You thank the devil for keeping your husband away.

And then you feel two of his fingers enter you.

You settle your head down again as you become a complete mess under him, too far gone to care about keeping it together, especially now that he rubs the sweet spot inside you. You’re barely able to discern that his free hand has now reached his pants but you hear the sound of his buckle opening. Finally free from his constraints, he strokes himself a few times and you feel him vibrate on top of you as he finds some needed relief. Despite this, his tongue and his fingers never let up, working you mercilessly. You soon feel moans of pleasure leave his mouth, reverberating directly on your core, a feeling too lascivious for you. That’s when you finally come undone.

Your whole body convulses as you experience the greatest climax you’ve ever had, feeling the waves of pleasure reach every inch of your body, maybe your soul. As you come, your core pushes upward against Arthur’s face, telling him to stop, but he does not relent, continuing his lapping, wringing every ounce of ecstasy out of you. You’re beyond overwhelmed as you moan uncontrollably, your hips sinking and rising erratically, your hands still pulling his hair. After a few moments, he begins to slow his licking, removing his fingers from you, placing his hands on your forearms, giving you smooth caresses as he helps you come down from your high. When you’re a little more tamed, he removes his mouth completely.

“That sure was loud, miss.”

You’re so wrung out by the orgasm you barely hear him, nor do you feel when one of his hands leaves your arm. When you’re more grounded, still reeling from the aftershocks, you’re delighted to hear he has resumed touching himself. By the increasingly loud panting, he sounds to be close already. You don’t lift your spinning head until your curiosity finally defeats your exhaustion. You watch as he pumps his cock with his mouth open, eyes closed, on the verge of toppling over. His beard still glistens with some of your wetness.

When you’re strong enough to lift yourself on your elbows he hears you stir, prompting his eyes open. The gaze he gives is one riddled with lust, accompanied by a brief licking of his lips as he sets a faster pace. You continue to gawk at him, which is all it takes for him to unravel, making him grunt deeply as his spend begins to land on the ground by his knees.

You wait for him to finish his release before you tease him. “You know, you’re not so quiet yourself, mister.”

He laughs lightheartedly as he rises from his knees, tucking his cock inside his underpants, pulling his pants up before he sits down next to you by your hips, still catching his breath. He softly caresses the side of your belly with one of his thumbs. “How was that, miss?”

"I think you’ve repaid your debt in full, Mr. Morgan.”

He bends down to kiss your lips lightly as you both giggle, shining in your shared postcoital bliss. “The name’s Arthur, miss.”

"Well, the name’s Y/N, Arthur.”

“I like ‘miss’ better. It suits you.” He lowers his lips again, this time reaching for your neck.

“You ever heard a ‘miss’ scream like that for you?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I might’ve heard louder than you.” He moves his thumb to teasingly play with one of your nipples.

“I very much doubt that.”

“Well, you can always prove me wrong.” Arthur hovers over your lips threateningly. “Besides, the day ain’t over yet, missy.”

You smile at his new pet name for you. It's certainly better than being called Mrs.

-

A/N: I already have most of the remaining chapters planned out, so hopefully the rest will be published a little faster. Chapter 3 coming soon with the rest of the day!

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan x you #goodmorgan

[goodmorgan]

Perfect Strangers

Chapter 4: A Lie to Protect

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

Series Summary: When a stranger appears at your homestead to steal from you, you set out to help him instead. What follows is a reckless relationship with potentially dangerous outcomes.

Previous Chapters: (1) (2) (3)

Chapter Summary: A frightening event in the middle of the night makes Arthur show you his protective side, making you face an unexpected truth.

Word Count: 4K

Tags: 18+. MDNI. Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Infidelity. Reader gets scared and panics. Protective Arthur Morgan.

Taglist: @how-the-heck-would-i-know

AO3 Link

A/N: No smut, just plot in this one.

It's no surprise that the sleep that comes after your evening with Arthur is dreamless since what happened is as close to a living dream as you'll ever get. But sleep is deep as well, so when Arthur jolts you awake by removing himself rapidly from your grasp beneath you, it feels like a brutal shock. You try to open your eyes as you hear him dress.

And then loud shots ring out in the distance.

You spring from your drowsy slumber, sitting up on the bed, turning to Arthur for answers. "What was that?"

He's already buttoning his pants as he tries to put on his boots. "I don't know, but it ain't good." He puts on his shirt aimlessly. "I need you to stay inside while I go see what it is."

You're out of bed when you hear another round of firing, this one more prolonged. You both freeze at the sound of it.

"I'll go with you."  

Arthur gives you a stern look, the kind you hear is best not to disobey. "No! Stay here!" On his way out, he stops abruptly by the door. "Close this door behind me and don't let anyone in!"

When you get to the dresser, you find an easy nightgown you can slip on, then you swiftly put on your shoes and your coat hanging by the door. You head directly to your kitchen for your shotgun, finding it where you always keep it. You step out onto your porch without thinking about what could be the origin of the blasts but willing to protect your home from it.

Arthur stands in your front yard, trying to figure out where the sound is coming from. His gun belt is now placed on his hips, both of his guns drawn. When he hears you come outside, he turns angrily. "Damn it, I told you to stay inside!" He steps closer to convince you to go back in. "Get in there!"

You check your shotgun to see if it's still loaded. "I can protect myself, Arthur. And I need to protect my home." You slam the weapon shut, annoyed at his insistence of you cowering inside. "I'm not going anywhere, Arthur." 

You can see he's vexed for not getting his way. The unrelenting stare you give him is enough to make him give in. "Get behind me."

You follow Arthur as he moves further into the yard, hoping to see anything that might give him reason to shoot. You stay close to him since he looks to be a better shot than you, brandishing two heavy weapons that are no match to your lone gun. You both take cover side by side when you reach the fence enclosing your yard.

You stay on the lookout for some time, suspicious of the eerie silence that has fallen since the last shots were heard, worried that the trouble will reach you any moment. Nothing like this has ever happened in the few years you have lived here, so you're distraught that you might be in imminent danger at your own place of refuge. You're relieved the night is pitch black so Arthur can't see the fear in your widened eyes. 

After a few minutes that seem like hours, Arthur finally spots something in the distance, the sharp turn of his head giving it away. You follow his gaze to see the nearby road, you see moving glimmers of light, accompanied by the growing thunder of hooves stomping heftily on the ground. About a dozen horses by the sound of it. 

When you both realize they are headed in your direction, Arthur straightens his stance, cocking his guns determinedly as he aims at whoever comes at you. He moves closer to you, placing himself in front of you to shield you from any harm, his back pressing at your shoulder as you cock your own shotgun to the side before pointing it in his guns' direction. You hope he doesn't notice how badly it shakes in your quivering hands, a knot now tight around your stomach as you begin to forget how to breathe.

His instruction is almost imperceptible. "Stay behind me no matter what."

You both secure your aim as you watch a team of ten horses invade your property, the glow of lamps hanging from them, lighting up the field around you as they approach, illuminating the men riding them as they come into view. Their light campaign hats are the first thing you notice, placed high on their heads, sets of matching gloves holding the reigns, carrying long-barreled guns. Their distinctive blue uniforms look worn out as the army men steer closer to you, marching into your property without permission. They do not come in peace. 

The arrival of an army battalion under the cover of night is a terrifying image, your senses overwhelmed by the unexpected show of force. You recall that the horsemen of the apocalypse are supposed to be four, not ten.

"Hold your fire!" The words come from the commanding officer leading the pack but you're not sure if they are meant for the other officers or for you and Arthur. You both tighten the grip on your guns. "Hold your fire, men!" Your heart feels like it's bound to leave your chest as the horses slow to a gallop in front of you, the faces of the officers coming into view. "They're civilians." 

Arthur's back is now leaning further into you as he tries to protect you from them, you can feel his chest swelling, suspicious of their intentions as they begin to halt their horses. It's clear you are completely outnumbered. "What's your business here?" he demands sternly. "This land here is private." You follow his lead and try not to panic as you barely keep the shotgun straight over his shoulder. 

"At ease! My name is First Lieutenant Roger Brown with the United States Army. I assure you we mean you no harm." The man dismounts while Arthur watches him like a hawk. His voice is loud and authoritative. "Perhaps you can lower your weapons and we can talk." It's a threat in the guise of a suggestion.

You wait for Arthur's move to follow his lead. After a few seconds of pondering, realizing he is completely outgunned, he slowly lowers his guns, nestling them inside their holsters, but not removing his hands from his gun belt, in case he needs to draw them again. He motions to rise and leave his cover and you follow suit, staying behind him as he requested, leaning into his side as you keep your eyes on the battalion. You drop your shotgun in a quick swoop, your arms trembling with fright. 

"Now that's more like it!" The lieutenant has only said a few words but something about him is as disturbing as his unbecoming grin. "We're looking for an escaped convict from Fort Wallace. He was just seen around these parts a few moments ago by our officers. I'm sure you heard their encounter." The other army men now gather around him as he tries to assuage you. They continue to hold their guns threateningly, even though they're not aiming. "We're searching the area to try to locate him. We need to have a look around to see if he's not trying to hide here."

"There's no else here." If Arthur is intimidated or fearful he doesn't show it, but you can feel him burning hot with anger. 

The lieutenant now stands directly in front of you. He's almost Arthur's height. "I'm afraid we can't take your word for it. We need to make sure he's not hiding inside." He looks directly at you, sending a shiver down your spine. "Did you see anything?" 

Arthur speaks for you, he must sense how scared you are as he continues to cover you. "No." There is a brief pause. "My wife and I were just sleeping." His words don't have time to sound in your head as you're too overwhelmed with dread.

"Ah, of course. Well, we still need to search." He instructs three of his privates to look for the escapee out back in the stable while he and a few officers look inside your house, the rest keeping watch over you and the horses. "We won't take long."

You realize that they are about to invade your home, wrecking it apart without your permission to try to find a man that's not there. "Just make sure you don't take anything!" Your words boil over like poison as your fear mixes with rage. 

"Oh, there's nothing to worry about, Mrs...?"

"Brooks." You spit out your own married name without thinking. 

"Don’t worry, Mrs. Brooks. We're here to protect you." The man gives you a nauseating grin.

You watch as the two groups of soldiers disband to search your property. Your instinct is to retaliate and stop them from reaching the threshold and you feel your body move a few feet until you feel a hand reach one of your own. 

You turn around to see it's Arthur's, stopping you from going forward as he tries to look into your eyes, his stare glowing with the light of the lamps. He presses your hand tightly, rubbing his thumb on its back. His other hand reaches your shoulder as he tries to ground you. It's only now you realize your chest is rising frantically, your nose flaring as your breath hitches, your palms sweaty as your knees buckle. He tries to soothe you back into stillness, his eyes worried as he watches your petrified state. "Breathe, darling."

You try to steady your breaths as you realize you're panicking, overwhelmed with the menace not just in your yard, but now on your porch too as they enter the door to your sacred home. 

Eventually, the agitation begins to subside, noticing Arthur is standing by you, still protecting you, even without a raised gun. You don't know what you would do if he wasn't here right now. 

When you hear a loud noise inside your house, you turn to try to see what they're doing, a futile effort. Arthur's grip on you keeps anchoring you down and you turn back to him as you try to hold back tears. He nestles your head in the crook of his neck, shielding you from seeing your home invaded, swaying you softly to ease your distress. You feel him exhale with hostility beneath you, his head moving as he remains on the lookout. 

Your mutual fury begins to subside after a few minutes, even though you're both still very tense. The fear soon turns into impatience as the officers continue to search your house. If they were to find someone else inside, they would have done it by now. Arthur lets go of your hand as you move to sit briefly on the ground, finding it uncomfortable as you feel too jumpy to stay still. You're pacing around when you finally hear someone step into the porch. You absentmindedly seek Arthur's hand before terror sets in again. 

The privates start to leave your house, each one stepping down back into the yard, Lieutenant Brown leaving last, an uneasy satisfaction on his face. The other officers sent to your stable also return and the whole battalion soon returns to their horses. 

"It looks like the convict isn't here after all," Brown admits as he walks past you. You wait for the utterance of an apology but none comes. 

"That's what I said." Arthur's voice is low with indignation and you fear he might get physical. 

"But you could've been lying, couldn't you, my good man?" He gives Arthur a wicked smile and you feel his hand clench harder around you. "Still, should the need arise, we might come back if he's seen around here again." The idea makes your lungs tighten. "I suggest you remain on alert. The convict is armed and dangerous." Not as dangerous as ten armed soldiers, you think. "Have a goodnight, Mr. Brooks. Mrs. Brooks." Lieutenant Brown tips the brim of his hat to you from his horse and you truly hope this is the last time you see his vile face. 

You watch as they leave, galloping away out of your property, leaving you and Arthur in pitch darkness again, robbed of a night's rest and your whole sense of security. 

It's only when Arthur is sure they have gone that he looks down at you, still clutching his hand firmly, your other hand now clinching his upper arm, your shotgun forgotten as it hangs on your shoulder. He gives you a moment as you place your head on his shoulder, his whole side slumping as you try to sink your dread into him. "It's over, darling, they're gone." You feel your tears fall as they wet his shirt underneath you. "Nobody's gonna hurt you. I won’t let it happen." At that moment it's only Arthur, the dead silence, and the weak moonlight trying to ease your fears.

Arthur eventually gets you to sit down on the stairs of your porch when you're calm enough to hold your own head. He kneels by you for a few seconds when he places a soft kiss on your temple, soothing your forearms with the warmth of his hands. When he hears a noise in the distance he turns in its direction, placing his grip on his gun belt, removing it when he notices it’s just a lone rabbit in the woods nearby.

When your breathing normals and your eyes go dry, you gain the courage to finally head inside. “I should go see if they took anything.” 

Arthur nods. “I’ll go check on the horses.” He rubs your shoulder a few times, making sure you’re well enough to be left alone for a few minutes. “Keep your gun with you.” His words remind you of the remaining threat of the escaped convict. He watches you head inside before he leaves.    The inside of your cottage is not ransacked like you feared but you immediately sense some things have been moved, a strange aura hanging in the air. At first glance, some of the carpets are turned over and a few of the cabinets in the kitchen are left slightly ajar. Some used glasses are sitting on the table, the expensive bottle of whiskey Arthur got you now empty. Only a few bits of glazed apple are all that remain on the plate of your pie. It infuriates you they abused your home like this. What’s worse is you couldn’t fight back. 

You go to your bedroom to see if they’ve taken anything else. The bed sheets are scrambled and the mattress is out of place, definitely not like you left it. Your clothes from last night are still tumbled on the floor. You pick them up as you watch your clean clothes ruffled inside the open armoire, the drawers of the dresser disturbed. However, upon closer inspection, nothing seems to be missing, not even the pieces of jewelry hidden inside one of your shoes. They must have not looked inside. You open the drawer containing your husband’s correspondence and see that they didn’t take your wedding ring either, still tucked away in the corner, hidden by some envelopes. 

After you push the dresser to the side with some force, you lift a false floorboard, the hiding place where you stash your money and a few pieces of gold in a small pouch. You sigh of relief when you count and everything is there, even your husband’s gold pocket watch. When you conceal your hiding place again, you see your empty purse tossed on the floor. The six dollars and thirty-five cents you had are missing. You pick it up as you feel your cheeks flush with rage.

When you are through returning tossed things to their rightful place, you look around to make sure nothing else was taken. The soldiers seem to have contented themselves with just a few lousy dollars and a stomach full of liquor. You’d pity their misery if they weren’t such ruthless thugs.   When you return to your porch, relieved that the looting wasn’t worse but dismayed that it still happened, you see Arthur in front of the stairs, still keeping watch. He turns to you, visibly upset from what happened and, even worse, from letting it happen. “Everything ok?” He speaks as gently as he can in a deeper tone. You know he’s not asking about the house but rather about you.

You nod lightly and somehow you feel like crying again. You try to stay strong so he doesn’t think you’re so pitiful. “Just took some money. A few dollars I had in my purse.”

“Goddamn bastards. Scum of the earth is what they are.” 

You sit back down on the same step you sat before. The night seems to be coming to an end as the darkness begins to disappear, the blue grass now getting greener.

“Drank the whiskey too and the rest of the pie." It saddens you Arthur will not savor the rest of the pie he liked so much. "I’m sorry.”

“There ain't nothing for you to be sorry for. It ain't your fault." He sits down next to you with a self-reproaching grunt. 

"It ain't your fault either. There was nothing we could do." You catch his eyes as he tries to believe you, swallowing down his remorse. "I'm glad you were here."

Arthur wraps his arm around you. "Me too, darling." His gaze remains on you as he tries to assess your well-being as you look out into the empty yard. "Why don't you head inside, get some sleep? I'll keep watch." 

"No. I can't sleep right now." You place your shotgun by your side, in case you need to use it. 

"Ok." He stares out into the emptiness with you, watching the sky as it's painted with hues of blue, pink, and orange. You both relish the birds as they begin to sing, the only sounds echoing in the otherwise quiet distance. 

Arthur strokes the blade of your shoulder for a long time as if it might undo the night you're living, hoping it turns into an uneventful day. After some time, it almost works. You start to feel lighter as the panic leaves your body, accompanied by the welcomed sedative of owed sleep as your head falls gradually until it hits his shoulder. He snuggles you closer as you surrender to the cozy feeling of his warm embrace.  

A few words come back to you while you're still awake. My wife and I were just sleeping. A harmless lie to protect you from a cruel world, you figure. His reasoning must be that they would be less likely to hurt you with a husband by your side. He doesn't know you're actually married, so it must just be happenstance. You don't dwell much on it, too tired to process the implications it has on you and the man who said it. 

The first sun rays finally reach the tallest trees in the distance before you feel your lids close, drifting off to a better dream, one where Arthur keeps holding you tight. 

-

When you open your eyes gain, you can't be sure if you've slept five minutes or five hours. You wake up lying on your bed, covered with your quilt up to your shoulders. You see the coat you had on hanging in its place by the door, the sun entering your window as bright as ever as the morning reaches its conclusion. The birds and the breeze are the only thing you hear and for a moment you think you're alone in your house, just like on any other day. Maybe everything that happened was all a dream, even him. 

"Arthur?" You call out his name and you hope you're wrong. 

You hear loud steps on the porch and in your living room before he reaches your door. The man you dreamed about is real after all. 

"Hey." By the appearance of his face, you gather he hasn't slept a wink, his shoulders burdened with weariness. The memory of this morning comes flooding in as you realize why. He's still guarding your home. He's still guarding you. "You ok?"

You sit up on the bed. "I'm fine." The sleep you got has calmed you but you still ache with sadness. 

He sits down on your side of the bed, careful not to sit on your feet. "One of the soldiers just came by up the road. It seems they caught the bastard a few miles from here, hiding out in an abandoned barn." He takes your closest hand in his. "None of them are gonna trouble you no more." You believe him as he looks you in the eye.

"I'm glad." You feel yourself exhale a long-repressed breath.

"You need anything?" 

"No."

"You gonna be ok?" You can tell he's still deeply worried about you. 

"Yes." You try to make him believe you as you look him in the eye. 

He stares down at his boots before he gets the courage to say the next few words. "I'm afraid I gotta go. I have work." The thought of him leaving feels you with dread again. "But I'd like to come back. Make sure you're safe."

"I'll be fine." You move your lips to give him an uneasy smile.  

"Still… I’ll sleep better if I see you.” You can see him slouching from his exhaustion, his lids heavy with need.

"Then sleep here." You reach out to hold both of his hands to keep him from rising from your bed. 

"Sweetheart, I can't, I've got to get going..." He barely moves as he attempts to convince you in his sluggish state.

"You need rest, Arthur. Rest here."

You pull his arms up to you and you feel very little resistance, his fatigue getting the better of him. His whole body slumps next to you as you remove his hat and his bulky boots. His head is on your pillow when you rejoin him, his eyes almost closed as they look down at you. "Don't let me sleep too much," he mutters as your forehead nestles against his jaw and you curl up into him.

"I won't. Just close your eyes now." 

You feel the tension in his body disperse as he finally lets his guard down. His deep breaths soon flutter in your hair while you soothe his arm over the fabric of his shirt, the front still stained from your apple pie. You continue to comfort him even after he is relaxed enough to fall asleep, his chest swelling with long languid breaths. The smell of tobacco and sweat becomes more intoxicating the more you breathe him in. 

You're delighted that a man of his size can unwind so quickly next to you. You’d never imagine you could be this comfortable with anyone, let alone that you’d get so intimate this fast, a closeness that now seems to be growing beyond your lustful bond. 

He’s now trusting enough to believe you when you tell him he needs rest. Thoughtful enough to carry you to your bed when you fall asleep. Strong enough to calm you when you panic. Brave enough to shield you when you're threatened. Caring enough to lie and call you his wife to protect you from bad men. 

Years of marriage have certainly not gotten you any of this and now you wonder if it should have. Being married to an affectionate man was never an option but perhaps there is a different reality that you could've had. Maybe you still can, now that you glimpse at it as Arthur breathes into your hair, swaying under your palm, throwing your whole predictable world in disarray.

For now you decide to bask in the distance of the future and the remoteness of consequences, realizing your whole life is being pulled into a whirlwind as you pull closer against his chest. You soon regain sleep as a pretend Mrs. Brooks and, for a moment, being married isn't so bad. Not if it's to him.

-

A/N: Sleepy Arthur Morgan, am I right??

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fanfiction #goodmorgan

[goodmorgan]

I've been on vacation for the past few days and I haven't been able to complete the newest chapter of my fic Perfect Strangers. It's kind of a long one so it'll take a while. So here is the beginning of the chapter to read until then!

Perfect Strangers: Intro to Chapter 6

Previous Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

Word Count: 2.3K

Tags: 18+. MDNI. NSFW. Smut, Porn With Plot, Mutual Pining, Infidelity, Mutual Masturbation, Penetration, Cowgirl, very much a WIP!!

A/N: Arthur is getting a little possessive...

You've never been on top before. None of your past lovers ever thought of letting you take charge, much less suggest you actually do it. So when Arthur asked if you could, it took you very much by surprise.

"Think you can handle it, missy? Hmm?" His eyes glimmer with a devilish spark as he invites you into his lap, his back leaned against the headboard of your bed. He squeezes the inside of your thigh in encouragement as you kneel by his flank.

"I think so." You hesitate, unsure if you'll be able to please him in a position you have no experience in. But then you look at his lustful eager eyes and you know you'll never be able to say no. And you have to admit, the idea of riding him has you pretty aroused yourself.

"Come on. I'll help ya."

His back temporarily leaves his rest as his hands reach the side of your waist, guiding you up as you climb over his legs, sitting atop his strong bulky thighs. Your core settles right in front of his fully hard cock, now slicked with his precum as it lies on his stomach, impatient for more after you've spent the last few minutes stroking it. You feel yourself twitching uncomfortably with titillation at the thought of taking it all in.

He removes one hand from you to catch the base of his member, tilting it up, ready for you to mount. "No need to rush, darling. Take your time." He means to put you at ease despite his obvious excitement as the mischief in his smile deepens, the tip of his tongue sneaking out, making you even more eager to start.

You settle your hands on top of his chest, pressing down for support as you raise your rear, angling your entrance above the tip of his cock as you kneel again. Arthur's hand tightens as you hover above him and soon enough you feel him prodding between your folds. You look at him to ask if you can go ahead.

"Easy does it, darling." His thumb caresses the side of your belly to relax you, but you feel his cock shift below you in ardent anticipation.

You move slightly downwards, enough to feel his member peek inside, stretching your opening to make your breath hitch. Arthur removes the hand from his cock, aiding you in your lowering motion with both hands on your hips, supporting your weight so you don't plunge too fast. Inch by inch you lower yourself as you take all of him inside you, your walls stretching in welcomed gratification. Both of you emit soft grunts of pleasure as Arthur's chest vibrates under your fidgety hands. You try to keep your eyes on each other as they flutter from the delightful feeling of carnal intimacy.

Your buttocks finally rest against his thighs when he finally fills you to the hilt. "Oh, fuck, missy." He grabs your ass greedily, as if to reward you for sheathing him inside you, his eyes darting to where your bodies meet. You peer down as you see your soft curls now tangled conspicuously with his. "Don't think I'll ever get used to you taking me like this."

You try to adjust to his large size as you coat him with the wetness he pried from you while fingering you earlier. You mirror his cheeky but sweet smile. "Maybe we just gotta practice a little more."

He chuckles as your hands move aimlessly all over his chest, warming him up before you move. His fingers lightly squeeze your behind to do the same. "I reckon we should. I doubt I'll ever get used to it though."

"Won't hurt to try." Your fingertips brush the area of his nipples. "I'm willing if you are."

"Yeah?" He raises a hand to your face to caress the side of your cheek with his thumb, biting down on his own lip. "Wanna show me how willing you are?"

He's ready to start when you are.

You rush your hands to the sides of his navel, moving your thumbs to pet the area below, twirling some of the black hairs you saw before. The teasing is enough to make the member inside you move and suddenly all you want to do is to countermove. "Seems I'm not the only one willing, am I?"

The first roll of your hips is barely visible but both of you feel it as his cock shifts gently against your walls, a satisfying taste of what's to come. He gets hungry for more as he lowers his hand to join the other, now blending his fingers with the curve of your hips. You take the chance to move them again, this time more noticeably as your folds almost touch the knuckles of your fingers, still skimming the sensitive skin of his groin.

It's the loud exhale he gives you that makes you start to lose your shyness, wanting to hear the sweet noises he makes for you over and over again, even if it's at the expense of your poise. You move your waist more forcefully, nudging yourself closer to his stomach, making you both puff out in delight. Each drag of your hips comes slow and gentle, but you can feel the gradual build of the fire in your core as you try to resist the urge to go too fast too soon.

"That's it, missy. You got it." His fingers press against your soft flesh as he assists your back-and-forth movements, the lechery of his eyes intensifying. "Keep going like that for me, angel."

His encouraging words only enflame your state of yearning, so you pick up the pace a little, moving your hands up to flatten them on his chest. As you move to the new angle, you fortuitously brush your clit against his pubic bone, the feeling so sublime you let out a whine of surprise and elation. You have no choice but to repeat it again, the result only more divine as you let your mouth hang.

"You like that, huh?" He grabs you more vigorously as you start to grind him wantonly.

You look into his eyes again, unsure if this is what he had planned when he asked you to be on top, wondering if he's enjoying it. "This ok?"

"Oh, it's perfect, missy." He lifts himself up to plant an affectionate kiss on your lips, his gaze even darker now. "Take what you need, darling."

His approval is all you need to move your hands even higher, clutching hungrily at his shoulders as your sensitive nub lies even flatter against his skin, the rubbing now so intense it keeps you from staying silent and cogent. You revel in your all-encompassing passion as you feel your walls fluttering against his own responsive arousal, filling you with the overwhelming sense that you are getting closer to the brink of endless wonder.

"Keep going, sweetheart. Almost there."

Arthur's sweet encouragement brings you back to a surprising state of awareness. You've only been intimate a few times, but they seem to have been enough for Arthur to learn when you're reaching your edge, aware of the effect his coaxing words have on you, prying a release from you every single time. Even when it's his choice of position, he still helps you rut yourself over him, making sure you chase your pleasure to completion first.

You must have slowed down your movements as he's compelled to spur you on. "Don't stop, missy. Not now. Keep going." His hands shove your weight forward to pick up the pace again. "Be my good girl and come around me." His wish is your command as you start to move unrestrained against him, your eyes closing shut as delectation devours you. "Come on. Need you to do this. Need to feel you, angel." His fingers bury themselves on your hips as he pushes you over the brink of deliverance. "Let me feel you feel good."

Your climax is heaven on earth as you arch back into the air, your head tilting back in victorious ecstasy as it hangs dreamily on cloud nine. In a thrilling change of pace, you soar up rather than sink your pleasure into the constriction of a worn-out mattress or the bumpy surface of a bale of hay. The only thing anchoring you is the firm build of Arthur between your thighs.

Your hands leave Arthur's shoulders to an aimless destination as you feel his own reach for your back, helping you ride your wave of pleasure, placing soft conciliatory kisses around your chest. Low soft grunts still leave your slack mouth when you slowly open your eyes, feeling your chest puff against an obstruction. When you look down, you see Arthur's face buried between your breasts, sucking gently at your damp skin. You take the opportunity to rest your head against his, feeling him hum with appreciation as he wraps you tightly in his arms.

It's a while before he comes up for air and even then he chooses to kiss your lips instead, his tongue still wet from nuzzling your bosom, hurried inside without ceremony. Rather than letting you come down from your high, it sustains itself with the extension of his enveloping kiss, making you tangle yourself against him in pure bliss.

"That was great, missy." His face slants to look up at yours as elated as you are, drunk on your own rapture as if it were his.

You take the chance to move slightly as you resettle on his lap, your core still sensitive as you brush against him. His member still pulses inside you and you're reminded of the pleasure you still have to bestow him. "It ain't over yet, cowboy." You push his shoulders to make him lean back against the bed, feeling very little resistance as he realizes it's his turn now, giving him a peck on his lips when he settles. "Show me what you had in mind."

His face turns somber, his eyes grow darker and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows your words, preparing to quell the overbearing lust running through his veins. His hands move to their previous place on your hips before you cover them with your own, encouraging him to move you however he desires. You feel the ridge of his knuckles shift as his fingers begin to knead your bruising flesh, his grip tightening as he finally starts to roll you against him. It's not long before your speed hastens and your pulse quickens again, needing to brace yourself on his shoulders, allowing close contact between your loose lips.

"Christ, missy. You're so good to me. You know that?" The meshing of your hips turns noisier by the second as they begin to slam into each other, his hands now directing you in up-and-down thrusts. "I oughta keep ya all to myself."

His member slides easily in and out of you with the blend of your fluids, his release approaching as he repeatedly hits your magical spot, both of you panting from renewed exhilaration.

Arthur keeps his eyes on you as if he's realizing something, you practically see a question form with the furrow of his brow. Suddenly he slows you down, limiting your thrusts without stopping them entirely. You know he's about to ask you something important if he's delaying his own release for it.

"You sleeping with anyone else?"

The question catches you by surprise, but you're quick to reply. "No."

It's the truth. You haven't slept with your husband in months and, when you did, there was nothing about it that was enjoyable or sensual. The last time was a brief tussle to get him off before he left for Annesburg, one where you didn't even pant and he didn't care if you did. You remember vividly feeling empty as he filled you up, the cracks on the ceiling as exciting as his thrusts. Just another passionless night with another heartless man in a list of too many few.

Now that you think about it, nothing can compare to what has happened between you and Arthur in the past few days. Not even close.

Your negative answer earns a purr of satisfaction from him, reaching for your chin with his fingers to pull you in. "Good. Keep it that way, yeah?"

You nod in agreement as you lean into his mouth, his tongue prodding yours to seal your vow of exclusivity as you surrender to the man who wants you all to himself, burying himself deeper within you.

His hands go back to your hips before they settle on your rear, grabbing hungrily as you both resume your lascivious pounding, the feeling intensified by the unceremonious binding of your union. Your breasts bounce wildly in front of him, earning his undisputed attention as he tries to land his lips on them. He stops when he begins to grunt disorderly, leaning his head against the headboard as he prepares to finish.

"Need you to rise, missy. I'm gonna-" He bites down on his lip, his teeth sinking hard as his hands promptly clasp your hips with all the will still left in him, with enough force to remove you from his cock, sitting you on top of his clenching thighs. He manages to stroke himself a few times before the white ropes erupt as he directs them to his stomach, his whole body trembling beneath yours. An earthquake of a deeply satisfied man.

He pants as he opens his eyes, his hands caressing your shoulders as he propels you forward to his kiss.

"So good to me.”

Your breasts dance against the sinful cadence of his heaving chest, his words reverberating close to your beating heart.

“And only me."

Your first ride on top was one to remember.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan smut #goodmorgan #perfect strangers fic

[goodmorgan]

Arthur Morgan in “Lost and Not Quite Found”

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2edit #arthurmorganedit #rdredit #gamingedit #red dead redemption arthur #read dead redemption #myedit #this post is a little long but look at him!! #goodmorgan

[goodmorgan]

Arthur Morgan in “Old Friends”

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #read dead redemption #rdr #rdredit #rdr2edit #arthurmorganedit #gamingedit #colter #colter arthur #you thought i was done with colter arthur? you were wrong #transfixed with the way this man smokes #cw smoking #smoking cw #dutch van der linde #goodmorgan