⋆.˚ mallory ⋆⭒˚

LEON'S POV

"Fuck. I shouldn't be doing this." I thought as I stroked my leaking cock while admiring one of your instagram posts, my most latest infatuation.

I can't recall when my feelings arose. Maybe it was when I walked in on you and my son sloppily making out on the couch. His hands were grabbing at your ass through your tiny, slutty shorts as you sat on his lap.

Your position, your cute, soft moans...it was just too erotic for me. I felt my pants tighten and my hand subconsciously palming my crotch like the pervy old man I was.

My son was just about to lift up your shirt, but I knew that if he had seen your beautiful tits I would've came in my pants, so I loudly cleared my throat. Sorry, sweetheart, I could tell you didn't want the fun to end.

But, it was just as erotic seeing your flushed, embarrassed cheeks scrambling off my child, and my son whipping his head around and showed his dagger-like eyes. I could tell he was pissed, but I didn't care one bit. My son knew better than to makeout on the living room couch, especially when he knew I was home.

Or maybe it was when you got me that cologne for my birthday. I've always kept his life pretty separate from outside people, but knowing my son, he probably couldn't keep his mouth shut about this silly birthday tradition we share.

But it means something because you got me a gift. You found out, remembered, and got me a present. Whenever you're over, I make sure I wear it just for you, sweetheart.

God, you are so delicious that I had to find your Instagram. It was easy for me, thanks to my burner account and my son being a complete idiot and accepting my friend request. I like that your account isn't private, that I have access to your life I don't see. For example, I didn't know you're really into fan fiction. Reading it, writing it, you name it. Maybe even touch your cute little cunt to it.

Yes, I know about your Tumblr account. No, I will never tell you how I figured that out. You need to realize honey, I work for the government.

One night, I spoiled myself and decided to go through your likes. These blogs you frequent? Geez sweetheart, you're a dirty girl. You realize they aren’t private, right? Maybe that’s your whole plan.

My son wants someone simple. He thinks you're simple. He doesn't know shit. He doesn't know you the way I do. And seeing you, in this Instagram post with my hand wrapped around my cock, knowing all the things you fantasize about...god, it's going to make me come ropes.

THIRD-PERSON POV

Loud, muffled yelling makes Leon stop stroking and look toward the door. He moved off the bed, cock still painfully hard as he put his ear up to the door to hear better.

"You're a fucking asshole!" Leon heard you yell.

"I didn't mean it, trust me—"

"What? You didn't mean to get her pregnant?!"

Leon's eyes went wide. His son cheated on you? A pretty angel sent from up above, the girl that had him jerking off like he was young again.

That asshole.

"Oh, come on baby!"

"No! We're done!" Leon heard you stomp down the hallway. The front door suddenly slammed closed.

He should go out there and comfort you, apologize for his idiot son, and convince you that he would treat you far better than he could. But he couldn't. Not when his cock is still hard as a rock.

Leon wrapped his hand around himself again and slowly moved up and down, up and down. His head titled back and he bit his lip to try not to make a sound.

He backed up and sat at the end of the bed, imagining you laid across his lap, cheeks red from his hands, and your pussy engulfing his thick fingers.

Leon rubbed and squeezed his tip, his other hand going to his heavy balls and massaging the come out of them. You made him crazy, starved, and he didn't mind one bit.

Quiet whimpers escaped his lips, his eyes were violently squeezed shut, his chest heaved—he shot thick loads of his creamy spend. Leon sat there in his quiet room as he waited for his breathing to become normal again. He looked down at his hand covered in that white, sticky goodness and wiped it on his sheets. He'll change them later, or maybe he won't so he is reminded of how you made him feel, what you made him do.

Leon walked out of his room and collided with his son, who was throwing on his coat and grabbing his shoes by the door.

"Where are you going?" Leon's eyes followed him to the couch, where he was sliding on his shoes.

"Out."

Leon cleared his throat and crossed his arms. "I overhead some yelling, mind telling me what that was about?" He knew, of course, but it would be satisfying as hell to hear his son confess what he did. Like a man.

His son looked up from his feet, looking at Leon with a cold stare. He then looked back down and finished tying his shoe. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" Leon asked.

"Nothing."

A small sliver of Leon felt bad for his son. It's been hard since his mom passed away a year ago. He's noticed different behavior from him.

His son stood up abruptly, meeting Leon's eyes. "I'm going out drinking with the boys." Leon turned and followed his son to the door, watching him get in his car and leave.

What an idiot.

LEON'S POV

I needed to do something. I needed to apologize for my son's incompetence. I needed to see you, standing in my foyer again, preferably with nothing on but it's okay if you are wearing clothes. I can be patient, sweetheart, I'm not a monster.

I can play the comforting father figure for as long as you need. I'll welcome you with wide, open arms, solve your sweet, little problems that you have, and wipe away your tears once I'm inside you, fucking you good.

I slid out my phone from my pocket and hovered over your number in my contacts. You had given me your number because my poor excuse for a child forgot his phone one night while you were out. I remember receiving the first text you'd sent me, well the only one as of yet. Just a simple, "Hey, it's me. Your idiot son left his phone and his wallet, so not only can he not contact anyone, but he can't pay for my drinks like a real man. So, in order to make it up to you for having to deal with his worthless ass, I decided to give you my number."

At least, that's how I took it.

My fingers did a dance above the screen. What did I want to say to you? Should I be blunt and tell you that I jerk my cock to the thought of you gagged with your own slutty panties? Yes, sweetheart, I've seen your panties. Lacy pairs, hot pink, cheetah print, see-through. Hopefully you haven't noticed that some are missing from your collection every time you leave our house. Maybe you think it's my degenerate son, but little do you know I love the smell and taste of your pussy. I rest your panties on my face as I choke my chicken raw. I know, I know, I am an old, disgusting freak, but I just can't help it princess, you're too addicting. I bet you wouldn't mind that I'm such a pervert, you're probably the same way. I can read all those dirty thoughts inside that pretty head of yours—

I'm getting side-tracked.

My fingers tapped on the text box, the keyboard sliding up awaiting for me to work my magic. I have magic fingers, sweetheart. You'll find out soon.

L: Hey, I heard some yelling before you left. Is everything okay? I'm worried about you.

See sweetheart? Nailed it.

Three dots pop-up on the screen, bouncing excitedly like they were anxiously awaiting your reply like I was.

Sweetheart: Yeah, I'm fine.

Liar. Dirty girl.

L: You know, he's not here right now. How about this, you come over and we can talk about it, or whatever you want. How does that sound? We can even watch that one movie you love but he didn't quite get...what was it again, Obsession? You can tell me all about it. I'll listen to whatever you tell me.

I've heard about that movie, Obsession. I've watched a few clips since it came out on streaming, and I agree with you. Fuck Bear. I'd never make you act like that for me, sweetheart. If you never could love me like I love you, I guess I'd move on.

Or kill myself.

Either way, I feel like I'm more like Nikki when she's under the influence of the Wishing Willow. I would kill for you, princess. I hope you know that.

Those three dots again. Leon looked up at the ceiling in anticipation. Come on, I know you want to, sweetheart.

Sweetheart: Wouldn't it be weird?

Oh, sweetheart. Sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheart. You're silly, you know that?

L: Not at all. I've known you for years now. It's going to be just two adults watching a movie together. Besides, he won't know.

He won't know. I will make sure he won't, honey. Besides, why do you care anyway? He fucked some other woman, and now he's her problem now. Thank god.

Sweetheart: I'm on my way.

I felt as if the clouds had lifted, or that maybe after all of this, there was an afterlife. You are my religion, sweetheart, and I pray to every vision.

To be honest, princess, I've never felt this excited in my life, with heat rushing from my head down to my toes. I rushed into my bedroom to spritz on the cologne you got me, then made my way into the bathroom to freshen up. I made sure to look my best, just for you.

When I heard the doorbell, I nearly jumped out of my skin. You know, I would peel off my skin and so you could climb in, and I could keep you close and protect you from the world's evils.  

I looked at myself once more in the mirror, taking in my aged appearance. I hope you don't mind that I am way older than you. I hope you could realize that my age is merely just a number—a number that proves I have more experience than guys your age, that I can treat you like the woman you deserve to be treated as.

I don't want to keep you waiting. I walked back out to the foyer and opened the door to be greeted by you. You are gorgeous, and no matter how many times I see you, I am enamored. You are the light in my dark life, sweetheart.

"Hey." I tried not to sound too excited, but the inflection in my voice said otherwise.

You looked up at me with your eyes—eyes that were glossy from tears, those tears that were caused by my son, and not from me fucking you into oblivion. I could just lick away your tears and kiss your eyelids, your lashes. You're beautiful, princess.

"Hey." You offered me a small smile, but you were hurting. Sweetheart, you know you don't have to hide it from me. I know my son is a jackass.

My eyes follow your body as you step inside my home. You look delicious in your tank top and shorts that it was making my mouth water. This heatwave has been living hell, but at least I get to see you wearing basically nothing at all.

I closed and locked the door behind you. "I'm going to get everything ready for the movie. If you want, you can follow me in there and tell me what happened." It was more of a demand rather than a suggestion, but I want to make you think you have a choice, sweetheart. And even if you don't tell me I won't pry. I already know what happened.

YOUR POV

I always thought my boyfriend's house was nice. It was clear his dad had money by the high ceilings and polished wood floors, but this time the house felt sterile, like if I made one wrong move I'd fuck everything up.

I sat uncomfortably straight at the kitchen island, wringing my fingers in my hands, and starring holes into Mr. Kennedy's back as he prepared popcorn at the counter. I've never hung out with my ex's dad one-on-one before. Is this wildly inappropriate? What if my ex finds out? I should've never done this, but I need someone to talk to right now.

"Thanks for inviting me over, Mr. Kennedy." I tried to say in a normal sounding voice, but it kind of came out in a meek mumble.

Mr. Kennedy looked over his shoulder and gave me a small, reassuring smile. "You're always welcome here." He turned his gaze back to the counter. "And you know you can call me Leon."

I nodded. I don't know if I can call him Leon. It feels too casual, too like we're friends. Not that we aren't, but it's just...he's an adult—my ex's father.

"Okay." I managed to say, my voice still barely above a murmur. "Leon." His name will probably always feel foreign rolling off my tongue.

"You drink?" Leon asked. He was now bent down at the fridge, looking back at me waiting for me to answer.

I blinked. "What?"

"Do you drink." He asked again. "You know...alcohol? You've had a bad day, thought you could unwind." He said it with a causal tone, like we were talking about the weather, like we've been friends for years. "Or I have soda, lemonade, water—of course."

I smiled, letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Water sounds good."

I saw Leon's smile outlined from the light in the fridge. "Coming right up." He grabbed a few things from inside the door, then shut the fridge.

I looked around the kitchen at the various knick-knacks that he has accumulated over the years. Mugs that sat in the kitchen sink waiting to be cleaned, notepads and pens complied in a cup by the landline (he still has a landline?) that advertised various companies, and the artwork from my ex when he was a child framed on the wall. It was sweet. Leon must really love him.

He slid over a glass to me. I took a sip and gave him a small smile. "Thanks."

"Of course." He motioned over to the living room. "Let's go sit."

I slid off the stool and walked in front of him to the living room. Maybe it was just my conscience, but I felt a gaze on me.

I plopped down on the couch as I watched Leon place all of our goodies on the table. I sat with my legs on the couch, trying to seem like I was not at all nervous about this whole ordeal. I stared at the black screen of the TV.

"So," I felt Leon's body next to me, "wanna watch the movie, or are you up for talking?"

I looked over at Leon. He was sitting close that I swear I could feel the warmth of his body. "I could talk." I leaned forward and grabbed my glass. "No offense, but I hate your son."

I bit my lip. God, I shouldn't have said that. But instead of Leon defending his kid, he laughed softly. "Yeah...he's..." He didn't finish his thought.

"Yeah, he..." I cleared my throat. "He cheated on me."

"Yeah, I heard. You guys weren't trying to be quiet."

My cheeks felt like they bursted into flames, and I know Leon could see them turn red in real time. "Sorry..."

Leon shook his head. "No, no you had every right to be loud. My son's an ass."

"You can say that again." I took a sip of my water.

"I will. My son's an ass."

I laughed softly and adjusted my position on the couch, turning myself more towards him and pulling one leg up under me. "We weren't doing well recently anyway, but...getting another woman pregnant..." I trailed off, looking back at the blank TV screen. "I feel bad for her, honestly."

I didn't hear Leon respond, so I looked back at him. His eyes were glued on to me, offering me a comforting expression, urging me to continue. "I don't know. Men suck."

"We do." He responded, smooth and quick.

I dramatically groaned. "But why?" I flopped my head on the back of the couch, and turned my face to look at him.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Leon's lips. He shrugged and took a sip of what was in his own glass. "I can't tell you exactly why. I'll admit I did some shitty things when I was around your age. For me...I wanted to prove myself."

I lifted my head, and cocked it to the side. "Prove yourself to who?"

"Myself." It was Leon's turn to look at the TV. "Being in your twenties is a lot of convincing yourself that you have it together." He looked back at me, his eyes softening. "But you don't, no matter how hard you convince yourself. I still don't have all my ducks in a row and I'm going to be in my fifties."

I relaxed into the couch, feeling my nervous system relax in one sweep. This was nice and nothing I was expecting while driving over here. "I think I'm going to take a break on dating. Maybe I just need to take this time to find myself, and realize that I'll never have it all together."

"That's good." Leon took a slow sip from his glass. "You have time for all that nonsense later."

I squinted at him—his casual body language sprawled on his couch, his strong shoulders, his pronounced biceps peaking through his rolled up sleeves. The arm that just moved to rest against the back of the couch, almost like he was preparing to touch my shoulder and pull me closer to him. "You know...it's just crazy."

He put his glass down on the coffee table. "What is?"

I leaned back into the couch. "I can't believe you two are related. You're nothing like him. You actually have self-awareness."

Leon paused for a moment before he let out a soft laugh. "Thanks, but I didn't always. Trust me."

I furrow my brows as a smile spread across my face. "Yeah?" I sat up, kneeling on the couch, and turned fully to face Leon. "So what kind of shitty things did Leon get up to in his twenties?"

Leon leaned closer to me, a smirk planted on his face. "Now why would I go and ruin my squeaky-clean reputation?" He asked, his voice dropping down to something low and playful. "You already think I'm the sensible one, so why would I ruin that title?" I saw his eyes drop to my lips, realizing our close proximity.

My breath hitched, but my body leaned in closer. "Oh come on, Leon. I promise your secret is safe with me. Besides, who would I tell? Your son?"

He huffed, and turned his face. Even without him looking at me, I could tell he was smiling.

"Besides, I like a little mystery," I shimmied my shoulders playfully, "a little edge."

Leon looked back at me, his gaze dropping yet again to my lips. His sparkling eyes met mine. "I thought you were here to talk about your breakup that happened..." He trailed off as he looked down at his watch, the back up at me, "just an hour ago? What happened, sweetheart?"

My cheeks were probably redder than before now. "Sweetheart?"

"Don't try to change the subject." Leon leaned in closer, our noses barely brushing against each other. "You're not thinking about him, are you now?"

I smirked, without flinching. "Who?"

I saw Leon's face light up as he dipped his head down, a low laugh rumbling in his chest. His eyes looked up at me through his lashes, before he sighed and moved his head back up, his face still inches away from mine. "I was twenty-one. Just got my job at the station." He trailed off, his eyes going distant and cold for a brief second.

I watched him, noticing the change in his energy, and gently placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Leon blinked, looking back at me. "Where was I?"

I removed my hand. "You just got your job at the station." I reminded him with a soft voice.

"Right. I don't know if you know about what happened in Raccoon City."

I shook my head. "I don't think so. I'm sorry..."

"No, it's fine. It was probably before you were born anyway..." Leon took a moment to collect himself before continuing. "This epidemic spread through the whole city, and I was the man on the job."

"Yikes."

"Yikes indeed." He murmured with a faint, wry smile. "I met two amazing women during it though. Two of the strongest women I've ever known."

I nodded, very intrigued. "So...what happened?"

"Well you don't see them around, don't you?"

A soft, sympathetic chuckle escaped my lips at his dry delivery.

"I still think about both of them from time to time." Leon admitted, his voice softening. "Wonder if they're doing well, have families..."

"How was this shitty? It just seems sad."

"Fair point, I guess I was just trying to butter you up before I confessed that I committed unlawful murder." Leon deadpanned.

I gasped and covered my mouth, letting out a booming laugh. Leon laughed along with me, watching me with bright eyes.

"But..." Leon's laugh quieted down and his serious demeanor returned, "the shitty part was how I handled everything. And not just these women—with everything."

"And how did you handle things?" I asked.

Leon's eyes dropped to the space between us, staring at the cushion where my hand is resting. A heavy thoughtful silence stretched out.

"I didn't." He admitted, his eyes rising to lock back onto mine. "I focused on my work. Convinced myself it was better that way."

"And are you?" I asked, my voice was more like a breath in the small space left between our faces. "Better off?"

Leon took a slow, deliberate breath. The cool composure he'd held all evening began to melt. "No." He whispered.

I offered him a reassuring smile. "That takes guts to confess, Leon."

I watched as Leon bit his lip, taking in mine yet again. When he looked back up at me, the look in his eyes was different. "I...I'm different now. Older, wiser."

I nodded. "Okay."

"I'm a man now. I know how to treat women how they're supposed to be treated. Women like you."

My eyes widened. Women like me? "Me?"

Leon shifted his body so that he is turned towards me. "Sweetheart." He grabbed my hand that was still resting on the cushion, interlacing out fingers. "You don't even know."

I squeezed his hand back, the breath catching in my throat as the heat of his palm sank into mine. My heart was hammering against my chest. I was sure he could hear it.

"What don't I know?" I whispered.

Leon's gaze dropped to where our fingers were locked together, his thumb slowly tracing the back of my hand with a quiet, deliberate rhythm that made my skin tingle.

"How irresistible you are." He murmured as he looked back up at me. "Sweetheart, you're so gorgeous. Do you know how hard it is for me to even be near you?"

A soft exhale escaped my lips. "Leon—"

"I'm serious." He said softly. "You deserve someone who wants to treat you right, who needs to treat you right. And you're sitting right in front of him."

I shook my head softly. "When...when did you—"

"Since you started dating him." Leon answered.

"That...that was two years ago."

"Two years too long, if I say." Leon squeezed my hand harder. "Sweetheart, you don't even know half of what you do to me."

He grabbed my hand and placed it on his growing length straining against his pants. A strangled groan ripped through his chest as my palm encased around his clothed cock. "Fuck..." His head fell against the back of the couch, his eyes squeezing shut as his jaw clenched tight. "Just this...this alone can make me fucking come."

I let my fingers curve around him, slowly sliding my hand down the hard ridge of his erection through the fabric. "Leon...you're bigger than he is..."

Leon let out a sharp, ragged moan, his eyes snapped open as he stared down at my hand. "Sweetheart..."

Before he could finish the thought, I gave him a slow squeeze. A gravelly growl rumbled from his chest. His hands shot out, wrapping them tightly around my waist. In a fluid motion, he lifted me entirely off my knees and pulled my right into his lap.

The breath was knocked out my of my lungs as I felt me flush against his hard cock. I let out a soft gasp, my hands scrambling up to grip his broad shoulders to steady myself.

"I've always wanted you like this..." Leon rasped. "God, you're driving me fucking crazy, sweetheart."

"Leon..." I whimpered, my fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as I instinctively rolled my hips against him.

His large hands cupped my hips, guiding me on his length. "Fuck!" He growled, before crashing his lips into mine. The kiss was hot and heavy with years of built-up discipline finally snapping. His tongue parted my lips effortlessly, tasting me fast and desperate while one of his arms wraps around my waist and presses me against his hard chest.

A moan escaped my throat into his mouth. I wrapped my arms around his neck, dragging my fingers through the soft hair at the nape of his neck, anchoring myself to him. He moved me rougher and faster against him.

Leon groaned into my mouth, a sound so raw and masculine it made my clit pulse. He felt like iron underneath me, with broad shoulders, dense muscles, and a heavy, surging warmth that left zero doubt about how much he wanted this. And that was good because I've wanted this too. So bad.

He broke the kiss for a fraction of a second, just long enough to drag his mouth down the sensitive line of my jaw, his hot breath searing against my skin. "I'm gonna come...are you gonna come? Please come with me, baby."

I nodded and whimpered. I am so close, which is slightly embarrassing because I usually never get off this fast.

He thrusts up into me and I feel my eyes roll into the back of my head. "Yes—god, yes, Leon." I gasped out, the friction through our clothes was so intense, so fast, that every nerve ending in my lower belly was coiled tight, right on the edge. "I'm there...I'm right there!"

That was all Leon needed to hear. Leon let out a dark, guttural groan, his thrusts turning fast and sloppy, hammering his hips up against mine with no restraint. He held me locked against him with one arm clamped like a vise around my waist, his other hand coming up to tilt my chin back so he could catch my broken whimpers in another filthy, consuming kiss.

"That's it, sweetheart." He rasped, his voice vibrating deep into my mouth. "Give me it."

He thrusted up and hit me in the right spot to instantly push me over the edge. A sharp, breathy scream caught in the back of my throat as my cunt violently clutched as my orgasm crashed over me.

The sound of my release completely destroyed Leon. His back arched, his whole body locking up underneath me. A shattered moan escaped his lips into my neck as he bucked hard one last time, pressing his hips flush against me as his own orgasm hit him.

I soon felt dampness pool around my uncovered thighs. I looked down and a big wet stain covered his whole front.

"Fuck..." Leon panted. He pressed soft kisses along my jaw and down my neck, breathing erratically. He paused and lifted his head up. "Are you alright?"

I nodded. "Y-yeah..." I panted and pushed back my hair.

"Good. I'm not done with you yet." He gently placed me on my back on the couch. He let out a rough laugh. "I can't wait to get you out of this. I can't wait to see your body."

Leon didn't waste another second. His fingers grabbed the hem of my tank top, swiftly pulling it off me, and tossed it aside. His gaze traveled over the valley of my breasts as a quiet exhale escaped him.

"Goddamn, sweetheart." Leon rasped, grabbing one of my breasts in his hand and rubbing your nipple with his thumb. "You're so sexy." He leaned down and licked a wet strip up my stomach to my other nipple, taking it in his mouth, softly grazing it with his teeth.

I gasped, my back arching off the couch as his teeth grazed over my hard, sensitive nipple. I felt a hot wave roll through me, every muscle tightening in an instant to the friction of his tongue and fingers.

My hands gripped the edge of the couch, my knuckles turning white. "Leon..." I whimpered, my voice breaking.

He chuckled against my breast, the low rumble vibrating directly into my skin. He gave the nipple one last lingering flick of his tongue before switching places with his fingers on the other breast.

"You like this, baby?" He murmured against my ear, his breath hot and ragged. "I'm going to make sure every single inch of you feels good tonight."

Deliberately, Leon's hands shifted from my chest down to the waistband of my shorts. His fingers unhooked the buttons and dragged them down my hips in one smooth, unhurried motion.

My breath hitched as his eyes trailed down the full length of my body, taking in every curve, dip, and shiver that ran across my skin under his intense stare.

"Look at you..." He lowly murmured. "God, you're so sexy, sweetheart."

He dropped down to his knees between my thighs on the couch. His large hands reach out, resting against the sides of my waist before sliding slowly down the outside of my legs. His thumbs smoothed over the soft skin of my inner thighs, parting my knees wider until I was completely open for him.

Leaning in, Leon pressed a lingering kiss to the soft skin of my inner thigh, biting and sucking the fleshy skin till it turned purple. "I swore to myself, if I ever had you, I'd take my time with you." He said into my thighs.

He looked up at me through his lashes as I felt his nose press into my wet panties. I gasped, the heat of his breath soaking right through my damp fabric of my underwear. My fingers dug into the cushions as the firm direct pressure of his nose against my cunt sent a sharp jolt straight down to my toes.

Leon let out a low, heavy groan against me, inhaling deeply as if he were memorizing the scent of me. "God, you smell so fucking good," he rasped, his voice muffled against the silk.

He dragged his nose slowly up the center of my panties, tracking my wetness until his lips found my swollen clit through the fabric. He pressed a warm, firm kiss right over it, that made my hips violently jerk off the couch.

"Fuck!" I cried out, breathless.

He chuckled against me, the vibration sending another wave of warmth throughout my body. His large hands slid over my thighs, to pin me down right where he wanted me.

His fingers hooked into the sides of my panties, and pulled the fabric gently to the side, exposing my slick directly to the cool air of the room.

I let out a soft moan as I felt his thumb move up to slowly circle my clit. "Leon..." I softly moaned out. This felt so good, better than my ex, his son, ever did.

Leon looked up at me, his eyes tracking the frantic rise and fall of my chest, before he lowered his head between my thighs.

He slid two fingers past my slick entrance, sinking deep into my cunt in one slow push.

A choked gasp tore from my throat, my back arching completely off the cushions as the sudden, overwhelming fullness stretched me open.

"Fuck, you're tight." Leon growled, his voice thick and rough with restraint. "So wet and tight for me, huh?"

He stayed still for a long second, letting my body adjust to the feel of him inside me before his thumb started up again, making small, agonizingly slow circles against my clit. Then, with a slow tilt of his wrist, his fingers curled upward.

"Ah! Leon!" I cried out, my hands flying to his hair, my hips helplessly thrusting up into his hand.

"That's it, baby." He moaned, watching me squirm beneath him. "That's right."

Every curl of his fingers built the tension back up in my lower belly. I was already writhing on the couch, completely at the mercy of his hands.

"You're close." Leon observed. "Don't come until I tell you to, sweetheart."

I whimpered in response. I couldn't muster up words to say to him.

Leon leaned down near my cunt, his face hovering inches from me. He slowly pulled his fingers from inside me, pulling a moan from my lips.

"Look at me, sweetheart." He rasped, his warm breath searing over my flushed skin. "I want you to watch me while I taste you."

Before I could even process his words, he dipped his head fully between my thighs. His tongue made first contact, taking one long, agonizingly wet swipe up my cunt to my clit, before diving his two fingers back deep inside me.

A guttural moan tore from my throat. Leon chuckled low against my skin, my cunt squeezing around the sound. He set a devastating rhythm, his tongue swirling around my sensitive spot, flattening against it, flicking and sucking with an effortless, experienced control, all while his fingers curled hard and deep into that exact spot inside.

"God...Leon!" I whimpered.

Unlike his son, who had always been clumsy and focused on his own finish, Leon knew exactly where to stroke and lick, exactly how much pressure to apply, and exactly how to pace himself to keep me right on the edge of unraveling. He lapped at me with long, wet licks, his tongue swirling around my clit with a mesmerizing rhythm that made my hips tilt up into his face on instinct.

"You like fucking my mouth, huh?" He murmured into my cunt. "You like fucking my face like the dirty girl you are?" Leon chuckled at my moans and whimpers. "Fuck...come for me, let it all out for me, baby."

"Yes, god, yes!" I sobbed out, My knuckles were so far into his hair that I could probably rip it out of his scalp. "Fuck...Leon, right there."

Leon latched onto my swollen clit, taking it between his lips and applying a soft, steady suction while his fingers thrusted into me. The pleasure was instant and completely overwhelming. I cried out his name, my thighs trembling against his shoulders as my core clutched rhythmically around nothing, as my eyes rolled back.

I felt my release pour out of me and heard it drip onto the leather couch and pool underneath us. Leon rode out every single spasm with soft, soothing licks, sucking and lapping up every last drop like he was dehydrated.

Leon locked eyes with me as he wiped his hand over my slick thighs gathering up the excess wetness of my release. Without breaking eye contact, he brought his hand up to his mouth and licked his fingers and hands clean, his tongue slowly tracing over his skin to taste every drop.

I let out a shaky moan and let my head fall back onto the couch. My chest frantically rises and falls as I try to catch my breath.

"I need to fuck you." I heard Leon say. I blinked looked back up at him. His shirt was already discarded on the floor.

If you would've told me that I would see my ex-boyfriend's dad shirtless, I would've slapped you silly. He was still in good shape despite his age. It must be from doing the work he does. Fighting crime, or whatever he does.

What does he do exactly?

Before the thought could even fully form in my brain, my eyes took their time mapping him.

His broad shoulders tapering down to a tight waist, his bulging biceps, his chest and abs cut with deep, defined lines that shifted with every heavy breath he took. A dark trail of hair disappeared straight down beneath the unbuttoned waistband of his pants.

"You're unbelievable," I blurted out, my voice raspy and completely dazed as I stared up at his chest.

Leon let out a low chuckle. The corners of his eyes crinkled with a dangerous sort of amusement. "Glad you like the view.

He unzipped his pants and shoved them down his hips in one swift, efficient push, taking his still damp boxer briefs down with them.

My breath caught dead in my throat, and my eyes followed it with every movement it made.

Holy shit.

I couldn't stop my eyes from widening. Leon was massive, heavy, and slick at the head with his own come from when we humped, and his clear precum that was dripping from his tip. Veins ridged the entire length of him, throbbing with a heavy, steady pulse.

To compare Leon's to his son's would be unfair competition.

"You like what you see?" Leon took a step closer until the heavy length of his cock was resting right against my trembling inner thigh.

"I..." I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "You're massive, Leon."

"And it's all yours tonight." Leon rasped. He leaned down, pinning my hands above my head on the cushions with one palm, his fingers interlacing with mine. The sheer weight of him hovering over me was intoxicating, trapping me between the plush leather and his warm chest.

His free hand reached down between us, his calloused fingers gripping the base of his shaft. He guided his slick head right to my entrance, lining himself up against my swollen lips.

I gasped as he pressed forward just an inch, testing the stretch. The blunt head nudged past me, and the sheer thickness of him had my legs instantly shaking.

"Look at me." Leon commanded, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly vibration against my ear.

I forced my heavy eyes up to meet his gaze.

"I'm going to slide all the way in." He murmured, his thumb rubbing over the back of my knuckles as he slowly pushed another inch into my tight heat. "And you're going to take every single inch of it."

A long, trembling breath escaping my lips as he began to enter all the way inside. My back arched off the couch, and my legs shook as his fullness stretched me open.

Leon kept his eyes locked on mine, forcing me to watch him as he steadily drove his length forward, inch by agonizing inch.

A high, breathless whimper tore from my throat as the sheer size of him filled me to capacity, my inner walls stretched taut around his girth. He was so much larger, so much thicker than anything I had ever felt before.

"Fuck, baby..." Leon grunted, his jaw clenching hard as his hips pressed flush against mine, burying himself to the absolute hilt.

"Look at how good you take me." He rasped into my ear, as he looked down at him being swallowed by my cunt. His thumb comfortingly stroked the back of my hand, keeping my fingers pinned above my head.

"God, you feel so tight around my cock." He growled. Leon stayed still for a long, heavy second, letting my body adapt to the sheer stretch of him filling me to the hilt.

He slowly began to pull back, dragging his cock out until his tip was left resting inside my entrance, holding me right on the edge of emptiness.

"Leon, don't..." I pleaded, my voice cracking.

"I've got you." Leon whispered, and then drove back in with one deep, heavy, relentless thrust that hit every sweet spot at once.

My head thrashed back against the sofa as a loud sob of pleasure broke from my lips. My toes curled tight, my walls instantly clamping around him in a desperate, greedy rhythm.

"That's it." Leon groaned, setting a slow, agonizingly deep pace that rocked my entire body with every slide of his hips. "Take me, sweetheart."

I moaned out strings of incoherently curses and cries as Leon picked up the pace. My fingers gripped on to his, pressing my nails deep into his palm.

"Tell me," Leon commanded, his voice a low, gravelly rasp against my ear as he pulled in and out in a fast, steady rhythm. "How do I feel inside you?"

Tell me," Leon commanded, his voice a low, gravelly rasp against my ear as he pulled almost all the way out before driving back in, slow and mercilessly deep. "How do I feel inside you?"

I gasped, my fingers straining against his grip where he had them pinned above my head. The sheer depth of his thrust had my mind going entirely blank, every nerve ending focused entirely on the heavy, relentless stretch of him.

"Leon..." I cried out, tears brimming my eyes.

"Open." Leon demanded, pausing his hips long enough to hover right above my face, roughly grabbing my jaw with his free hand.

I furrowed my brows slightly, but parted my lips like he wanted me to. Without breaking eye contact, he leaned down and spat directly into my open mouth, his grip on my hands tightening just enough to keep me still.

"Use your words." Leon rasped, his thumb dragging across my bottom lip, making me swallow. "Tell me how much better this is. Tell me I feel better than my son ever did."

"You're...so much better," I whimpered out, my voice cracking under the weight of his gaze. "Leon...you feel so much better...so much bigger than him..."

I squeezed my eyes shut, my words just spewing out like vomit. "I've always wanted it to be you...fuck! I've always thought of you!"

I heard Leon chuckle. "Good girl."

Leon pressed my body against the leather cushions. The heavy, wet slap of skin echoing through the quiet room was deafening as he drove his thick length all the way inside me, bottoming out with every single thrust.

My hands flexed fruitlessly against where he had my wrists pinned above my head. Every deep, punishing surge of his hips hit the right spot inside me.

"Look at you." Leon groaned, his breath hot and ragged against my neck, watching my face completely undo itself beneath him. "Clenching so tight around my cock...taking me so good."

"Shit!" I screamed out, my back arching completely off the couch, my legs trembling violently against his ribs as my orgasm crashes over my body, my mind, my soul. I haven't came this much ever.

Leon drove into me three more times, before buying himself balls deep, and holding himself pinned inside me as his own orgasm struck. I felt his hot, thick come paint my inner walls. His grip on my wrists finally loosened, his hand coming up to cup the back of my neck as he pulled me up against his chest, burying his face in the crook of my shoulder as we both tried to catch our breaths. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the ragged breathing shared between us and the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall.

Slowly, Leon eased his weight back, pulling out of me, that drew one last, exhausted whimper from my lips. He didn't move far, resting on his knees between my legs as he reached over to pull the throw blanket off the back of the couch, gently draping it over my trembling body.

He wiped a thumb across my wet cheek, clearing the stray tears, his expression unreadable as the heavy reality of what we'd just done settled into the quiet space between us. He rested his head on my shoulder, and wrapped his arms around me.

"So." I said, trying to ease the tension. "I had fun."

"Yeah." Leon gave me a genuine smile. "I did too."

I looked up at the ceiling, closing my eyes. "We didn't even watch the movie."

I heard Leon laugh, so I looked down at him. "We can still watch it if you want."

"Nah." I turned my body carefully to face him. "Would it be crazy if I said I wanted another round?"

A smirk grew on Leon's face. "Not at all."

"I mean, can you even keep up, old man?"

Leon's eyes glint, raising a brow. "Old man?"

What happened?

Where am I?

With all my might, I peeled open my burning eyes and blinked a few times. I could imagine that my eyes were beet red and the skin around it was swollen, because it sure did feel like it.

I grunted softly as I pushed myself off the cold, hard linoleum floor, steadying my weight on my right forearm. I looked around and instantly recognized where I was laying, but it looked different from before.

My IV no longer dripped, but spilled all over the floor. My bed was flipped over and looked like it was thrown across the room, and blood—hopefully not mine—coated the once white and light blue floor.

What the hell?

I shifted to sit up, and like on command, my head started to pound a throbbing pain I've never felt before. I let out a sound of agony as my hands subconsciously cupped my forehead. I rubbed my head, my eyes, but nothing seemed to alleviate the sharp, piercing pain.

What I didn't notice when I was scoping through room was two decaying—decayed?—bodies rotting in the left corner. I groaned and moved back.

I assumed they were nurses just by what was left of their uniforms, but they looked ill just like how I am. Clammy, sunken in, pale...purple?

I didn't want to, but I felt my body move in closer to examine the nurses. I grabbed the shoulder of one of them, and I flopped him on his back. I saw his sad face covered in blood and one of his eyes popped out of its socket. I yelped and pushed him back.

I scooted back and grabbed my bed's railings to lift myself up. Once I was up on my feet, I felt like a newborn learning to walk for the first time. I knew what it was like to be in a bed for a couple days at a time, but I was never like this once I got discharged.

I tried to lift my foot up off the ground, but it felt like it weighed 1,000 bricks. So, I just shuffled to the nearby sink and grabbed onto the tub. I huffed.

It was never this hard. Why is it this hard now?

I turned on the sink, the cold water felt like it could freeze my already weirdly cold hands. I splashed the water onto my face and hissed. It felt like it was burning my cheeks. I shut off the sink in frustration.

God, why is it so cold?

My eyes flicked up to the mirror above the sink. It was someone who I didn't recognize.

I was a monster. Something out of a cheesy horror movie.

The things that weren't out of the ordinary was my sunken features and the dark circles under my eyes, but my coloring was a mix of blue and purple.

I opened my mouth and my eyes widened. My teeth were yellow and looked to be decaying by the minute, with holes and chips decorating the tops and fronts.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream for help, but I physically couldn't. I felt like I couldn't even breathe.

What happened when I was out?

I've been in Rhodes Hill before. I was cursed with a rare genetic disease that was like sex and candy to scientists. I was addicting, I was fascinating, I was "going to help people" like me. I remember, very faintly, a couple days ago my test results were extremely positive across the board, and more importantly, I remember I looked like me.

In the end—if this is the end—I was nothing but a guinea pig for their experimental drugs and therapies, and look where it's got me: in a ruined room with blood smears and two dead people.

I wanted to grab this sink's tub and throw it at the person who was responsible for me, the nurses in the corner, my room, the blood. I wanted to wreak havoc on this godforsaken, bullshit—

CRACK! CRACK!

The sound of gunshots put my thinking on a pause. My head snapped to the open door of what was my room. I felt me flinch, or at least my consciousness told me to flinch.

I heard heavy footsteps down the hall that I remembered used to accentuate the sound of wheeling carts or other unfortunate patients. The footsteps moved more down the hall, and—CRACK!—another gunshot. I didn't feel my heart, but if I could it would probably be beating out of my chest right now.

I looked around to find a hiding spot from the shooter. My bed was perfectly flipped that I could hide behind it.

My brain moved faster than my legs, and I tripped over myself.

What?

I looked down at my feet behind me and tried to lift myself up from the floor, but I couldn't. My hands splayed out in front of me.

Dammit.

I grabbed at the floor and pulled myself across the cold floor.

Come on! Come on!

I heard the footsteps stop and I looked back at the doorway. My eyes widened as I trailed up the figure standing at the front of the room.

Holy shit.

Standing in front of me was someone I haven't seen since my late 20s. I remember it like it was yesterday because frankly, it was the best I've ever had. And by the way he lowers his gun tells me that he remembers too.

Leon Kennedy.

God, I'm embarrassed. Twenty-something years of not seeing each other, and I am in this compromising position on a bloody floor, with my appearance looking an absolute mess.

I tried to yell for him to help me, but all that came out was a loud, embarrassing groan.

"Hey." Leon's voice echoed through the room. God, his voice was different from his younger self I know. It was deep, mature...rugged, but I still could recognize it if he yelled my name in a crowded room. Or in a crowded bar, like how we met back in that dive in 2005.

"Hey, nice to see you again! What would you like?" The bartender asked, as he placed his hands on top of the sticky bar.

I slid onto the barstool and sighed, handing over a $10. "Surprise me."

"Wow." The bartender raised his brow. "That bad, huh?"

I groaned and held my head in my hands. "Why do guys suck?"

The bartender let out a hearty laugh. "Wish I could tell ya." He grabbed a glass and started to make some mixed concoction. "What happened this time?"

"Well for one he didn't show up."

"Oof." The bartender huffed. "Is there a 'for two'?"

"And 'for two', when I called him he didn't pick up."

"How many times did you call him?"

"Three."

The bartender's brows furrowed. "Yikes. I'm sorry, hun." He slid over a pretty drink across the bar to me, as well as my $10. "It's on the house, because you're a loyal customer—"

"Oh god, don't say that. It makes me sound like an alcoholic." I grumbled.

"And," the bartender continues, "because you've had a shitty night."

"Thanks." I lifted the glass to my lips and the smell of pungent alcohol wafted into my nose. I took a sip, and felt the burn go down my throat. The bar wasn't rowdy yet, but the men were loud, the coupes were couple-ing, and I was sat here alone to go back home to my roommate and her flavor of the night.

I wish I could be as sexually confident as her. Maybe I wouldn't feel like such a loser to succumb to my vibrator every night. But, I've never met a guy that I felt an instant sexual attraction to, just to say goodbye in the morning like nothing happened.

I heard the creaky doors open and a gaggle of men, patting a man who was walking in front, on the back and ushering him to a table behind me. I overheard the sound of their annoying man garble about God knows what, probably about a "game" or whatever.

I sighed and took another swig of my drink, the burn was not as intense as the last couple sips. Maybe I was just a cynical bitch that was loveless. Yeah, that sounded about right.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the man who was leading the pack slide into a seat next to me. I looked over at him and he offered me a small, friendly nod.

I looked anywhere but him. He was cute, built, nice jawline...whatever.

"Hey." I heard him say.

"Hi." I replied curtly. I wasn't one to communicate with anyone here.

He pointed at my glass. "Could I...uh, buy you another?"

I looked down at my empty glass and raised my brows. I didn't even realized I finished my drink. Maybe I am an alcoholic.

I turned back to the man next to me. "Sure. A free drink is a free drink."

No, no no! That was NOT how it went!

My brows scrunched and my eyes squeezed shut.

"Thanks." I lifted the glass to my lips and the smell of pungent alcohol wafted into my nose. I took a sip, and felt the burn go down my throat. The bar wasn't rowdy yet, but the men were loud, the coupes were couple-ing, and I was sat here alone to go back home to my roommate and her flavor of the night.

My phone rang—my ringtone was probably a stupid song that was popular at the time. I flip open my phone and put it up to my ear. "Hello?"

"Hey, girl! Just wondering if you wanted to head to the club? Christopher No. Matthew No. Michael's working and I'm BORED!" I heard my roommate complain over the phone.

"Can't. Wallowing at the bar tonight. I think I'm going to drown myself in—" I can't remember what it was...

"Oh, come on! It'll be fun! Just meet me—"

"Alright, let me just fin—"

No. That can't be it. I wouldn't have met him.

"No, can't. Schedule's full." I took a sip of my drink.

I heard the creaky doors open and a gaggle of men, patting a man who was walking in front, on the back and ushering him to a table behind me. I overheard the sound of their annoying man garble about God knows what, probably about a "game" or whatever.

"Look," I continued, "I am perfectly happy here. Alone."

"We just...need to get you out there!" She insisted.

"We? You have a mouse in your pocket?"

I heard her huff. "We meaning Michael and I!"

I scoffed. "One, Michael isn't even there, and two, I don't give a shit what Michael wants for me."

"But wouldn't it be fun to go on double dates? Oh! Or maybe double weddings?!"

"I'm hanging up now."

"Wait!" My roommate yelped into the phone. "You are a great person and I think that every man on planet Earth should want to spend a night, a week, or his life with you. You just need to step out of your comfort zone and put yourself out there!"

I smiled and felt my cheeks burn up. It wasn't like I didn't get compliments from her, but it was always nice to hear some praise after a shitty not-date. "Bye, love ya."

I closed my phone and set it on the bar in front of me. I looked behind me at the men crowded at the table. A blonde, with a nice jawline and an amazing build...I felt my eyes trail along that man's shoulders and his arms, to his chest—geez, I've never done this before, at least not in the open like this. God, I'm such a slut.

Maybe she was right. I'm 27 now, I need to put myself out there.

I adjust my hair and my shirt. I looked back at the men all talking and laughing. I dug in my purse and retrieved my lip gloss, sliding the sticky substance across my lips. I was ready.

I sauntered over to the table, trying to come off as a sex symbol...like Britney Spears. But as I felt some of the men's eyes on me—I felt myself shrink back to my former self, and when I reached the table I was nothing more than a sad, pathetic loser who is definitely going to use her vibrator tonight. Alone.

"Hey." The blonde one greeted me. It was emotionless, but wasn't cold. His eyes studied my face.

"Hi." I said, as I greeted him with a small smile. "Um, how are you?"

"Fine." He shrugged. "And you?"

"Great, now that you're here—or I'm here in front of you..." I fumbled my words together, then decided that shutting my mouth was the best option at this moment.

The blonde man huffed and looked down at his hands. Dammit. I ruined it.

"Mind if I buy you a drink?" I blurted out, praying that this would save this train wreck of a conversation.

The blonde looked over at his friends, almost like he was getting permission, before looking back up at me. "Sure.

Wait.

Was that it? No. Ugh, why couldn't I remember!

I opened my eyes and saw Leon inching forward to me. I closed my eyes shut again.

It doesn't matter how we met. Names were exchanged—I faintly remember hands brushing against body parts that friends don't usually touch—just, let's skip to the good part.

Leon was unlocking his car as I pressed small kisses along his jaw and down his neck. He giggled softly and tried to wiggle out of my grasp. "Hold on, hold on, let me...let me get ya in here."

The car door unlocks and he guides me over to the passenger's seat. I release my lips from his neck and slide into the seat. I brushed my hair out of my face as I watched him walk to the driver's seat and slide in.

I wasted no time going back to the spot I was sucking and kissing on. I heard the engine rev to life and the car start to move.

"Do you have your seatbelt on?" Leon asked.

I popped my lips off his neck. I rolled my eyes in a playful manner and belted myself in. "Is that better?"

"Much."

I let my hand travel down his chest and to his inner thigh, cupping his already hard cock. He let out a soft groan and quickly looked down at my hand, before looking back up to the road.

"Leon?" My voice was soft and breathy. "Can I?" I rubbed up and down on his growing length. He grunted and thrusted his hips up Into my hand.

I unzipped his pants, whipped out his cock, and began to slowly stroke up and down rhythmically. He let out a shaky breath and gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.

I let out a soft chuckle. I leaned down against the car's console and licked a long, wet strip from his balls all the way to his tip, savoring the way he shuddered underneath me. I circled his tip with my tongue and sucked gently.

He whimpered. "We shouldn't be doing this here..."

I groaned and let his cock slip out of my mouth. "It's fine, officer."

I saw Leon's head go back, before shooting back up to look at the road. He grabbed my head and guided me down onto his cock. Up and down, up and down.

"You feel...so good..." Leon muttered. I felt my hair tangle and knot in his fingers. "W-where am I going? Back to yours—"

I slide my mouth off him in an instant. "No!" I yelled a little too loud than I wanted.

"O-okay?" His eyes shifted to me, then back at the road. "Where?"

"I don't know...hm...maybe yours?" My voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"We can't. Hotel, then?"

I shrugged. "Fine with me." After I answered I went right back to his throbbing cock. He hissed at the now familiar sensation of my mouth. I swirled my tongue along his base, his tip.

"I'm gonna come if you keep doing that..." Leon murmured.

I replaced my mouth with my hands. "Maybe that is just my intention..." He let out a ragged moan, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"Keep going..." Leon begged. "Please keep going..."

I did what he wished and stroked faster. "Did you think I was going to stop." I saw him squeeze his eyes shut and groan. "Pay attention to the road..." I whispered in his ear and kissed down along his neck. That seemed to do him in, as I heard his loud groan and hot spend coat the back of my hand.

I opened my eyes again. Leon was still inching towards me. God, it felt like I've been lying here for hours, but it must've been just seconds. I can't bear looking up into his eyes, but I can tell all his attention is on me.

The door of the hotel room shut behind us. Leon pressed me against the door and sloppily kissed me. His hands dug into my hair, as well as mine in his, and he guided me to the bed in the middle of this shoddy hotel room.

He softly pushed me down to the bed, and I looked up at him with bright eyes. I slipped off my shirt and bra and tossed it to the side. Leon's eyes grazed over my exposed body and smiled. He lifted his shirt over his shoulders, and I decided to help pull it off him.

Leon leaned down and kissed my neck, then moved to my breasts, sucking on one and cupping the other. His teeth grazed my nipple and bite softly, earning a gasp from me.

His head shot up. "I'm sorry."

"No...no...I liked it." It was cute that he was so quick to apologize.

He nodded slightly and continued to what he was doing, then switched to the other. I dragged my fingers through my hair, letting my nails scratch his scalp. Leon moaned into my breast at the touch and bit down a tad harder. I gasped and moaned louder and looked down at him.

Leon kissed down my stomach to the waistband of my thong that was already showing and sopping wet, and my low-waisted jeans that were slipping down my ass. He pulled down my pants and thong, them finding their way to my shirt on the floor.

"I'm gonna to make you feel good..." Leon cooed. He took me in his mouth, licking every crevice, lapping up my wetness.

I moan out, my mouth agape as I gripped his hair and tugged. No one has eaten me out before. I could imagine it, but I was always under the assumption that men didn't particularly enjoy it. But Leon, it seemed like he was right where he was supposed to be.

"Hey."

I looked up at Leon towering above me. He kneeled down and looked into my eyes. "Is it really you?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but I couldn't.

I moaned out, my head tilting back onto the stiff hotel pillows. He'd been going at this for minutes now, I was surprised he hadn't stopped.

"Leon...fuck..." I whimpered out, my hands still twisted in my hair.

He moaned into my cunt. I felt the vibrations move from my womb up into my brain. I let out a soft laugh and moaned some more.

"You...you like doing this?" I asked. It was a stupid question, considering the fact that he was eating me like he was a man starved.

"Mhm..." Leon said into my pussy. He takes two of his fingers and spreads me open, spitting in my cunt, and gracefully thrusts his fingers in as he sucks on my throbbing clit.

"Fuck!" I hissed and clenched my thighs around his head. "Fuck yes!" I breathed out.

"Yeah, you're gonna come for me, huh?. All over my face?" Leon groaned against my clit.

"Yes, all over your face." I panted out. I grabbed the sheets besides me and felt my legs subconsciously clench together. I felt a familiar sensation pool in my belly, but it was different.

"Come on..." Leon growled like an animal. "Come for me."

My legs began to shake as I felt the restraints on my release lift. I felt hot liquid dribble out of me, and it knocked me out of my pleasure. "Oh my God..." I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Bury me in my Juicy.

"I'm so so sorry..." I looked down at Leon's glistening face.

He let out a rough laugh. "What do you mean? You've never done that before?"

"I...I peed." I confessed. And this is why I don't do one-night stands.

"You didn't pee." Leon chuckled and wiped his jaw as he looked up at me. "God, who have you been sleeping with?"

"No one." I said like I was being accused of something.

"What?"

"I mean...pshhh a bunch..." I avoided eye contact with him until I heard him huff.

"It's you." Leon examined my face, took in all my recent ugliness. I was a mess.

My eyes hurt so much, but I still kept them open to stare at Leon's mature face. He aged really well. I'm happy for him.

A sharp pain behind my eyes made me squeeze them shut. I groaned out. I was in pain and I couldn't even tell him.

"Hey, it's okay." Leon reached out and placed a comforting hand over mine.

Leon laced his fingers through mine as he forcefully thrust his thick cock in and out of me. The creaking of the bed tangled with our beautiful noises.

"Fuck, you feel so good..." Leon growled. "I love this pussy...I love your pussy..." He let out a string of moans and tilted his head back.

I closed my eyes and took in the feeling of being full with him, stretching just for him. I whimpered and writhed beneath him. How am I going to go back to my vibrator after this?

I moaned out and moaned out. Leon was making me feel so good.

"You're doing so good for me...taking me like this..." Leon's hand traveled up to my neck and softly squeezed.

The moans spilled out of me over and over, each one louder than the last.

I moaned out loudly, grabbing my head. I was now sitting up, but I had no recollection of moving.

"Shh...it's okay. Look at me, alright." Leon's hand was on my shoulder, steadying me. He examined me, gently grabbing my chin and turning my face to see my decaying skin.

"No." His voice was barely a whisper.

"Yes..." Leon drawled out. "Fuck yes..." He watched his cock move into me.

He picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming faster and desperate. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him as close as physically possible, needing to absorb every ounce of him.

"Leon...Leon, I'm—"

"Come for me." He growled against my neck, his breath hitching as his fingers dug into my hips. "Do it. I'll come too. Come on."

The friction was too much, my pleasure coiling so tight in my core that it snapped once again. A loud, shameless cry tore out of my throat as I tightly clamped around his cock, waves of my intense release washing over me.

Leon let out a deep, guttural moan, burying himself all the way inside me, as his own body shuddered. I felt the white-hot sensation of his spend spilling deep inside me, pulsing against my walls as he collapsed against my chest, both of us panting, sweaty...

This was...

It was...

"P-perfect..." I groaned out and finally met Leon's eyes. It felt like I was staring into his soul, like I could see every ounce of humanity that was in him.

His brows furrowed in confusion, but he didn't speak. "It's me, Leon..." He softly said. "Leon Kennedy."

It was silly of him to think he would have to reintroduce himself to me. I could never forget him, and what he gave me that night.

I nodded with all the strength I had. His eyes were so sad. I didn't even imagine I would ever see him like this.

"L..." I tried to mutter his name.

Leon gave me a small smile. "It's fine...I know you're in there. You know—"

I blinked.

I found myself pinning a man up against the wall, my decayed hands clamped tightly around his neck.

In a blind reflex, the man pressed the cold, heavy barrel of the gun hard against my temple. He took a few frantic, gasping breaths, before—

I opened my eyes and shot up. I looked around at the questionable wallpaper and the hard pillows and bed in that shoddy hotel room. I turned around and saw—him sleeping soundly next to me.

My head aches. My feet ache. My body aches.

Every part of me aches.

Dutch was barking nonsensical orders left and right, Arthur was in a sour mood with John before we even stepped foot out of camp this morning, and Bill was being himself, making the train robbery a...well, train wreck.

I needed some TLC, and I knew just where to get it. My sweet fella, Charles.

I scanned the campfire nearby. Some gang members were congregating around it, talking about the day or succumbed to their slumber. Charles was usually there either sharpening his knife, or crafting some of those natural tonics he makes, but I couldn't spot him anywhere.

I limped into his tent, finding him sitting relaxed on his bedroll. He looked up as soon as stepped into his space and gave me a small, warm smile. "Hey you."

"Hey hon. I went looking for ya by the campfire."

Charles let out a soft huff. "I was there, but Micah was being...Micah."

Micah was always putting himself in other people's business and calling folks names. It was odd how a grown man could act like a disgruntled adolescent—no offense to teenagers.

"Oh." I kicked off my boots and sat beside him on his bedroll. "Just ignore him the best you can."

"I do. I just didn't want to hear it. So I came in here for some peace and quiet. I would've come out to welcome you home if I knew you arrived."

I rested my head against his shoulder, taking a long, deep breath. "It's alright." I closed my eyes and tried to forget about the clusterfuck that occurred just a few hours ago.

"You were limping when you came in. Is everything alright?"

I didn't even bother looking at Charles. "Mhm...fine. My body's a little sore, but that's it."

He was quiet for a moment. "Are you sure? Nothing else is hurting?"

"My head...but it's okay, trust me."

Charles softly jutted up his shoulder where my head resided. "Come on, sit in front of me." My eyes peered up at him, and they seemed like they were lighting up the whole tent.

I scooted in front of him, us both sitting criss-cross, and flipping my long, voluminous hair to my shoulder. I felt Charles' fingers start at my lower neck, rubbing in circles that were forceful, but felt wonderful.

I let a moan slip out and my eyes closed once more, the force of his touch moving me forward slightly.

"This okay?"

I couldn't respond with words, so I nodded eagerly. I heard Charles hum, and moved his fingers to the base of my neck. His fingers worked their magic, as he bent down and pressed soft kisses along my skin that was exposed on my back and on my neck, slightly sucking and nipping. I loudly moaned and moved my neck to the side to give him more room, earning a soft growl from him.

His hands did not waste time traveling to my scalp. I felt his nails dig into my hair and drag down. A loud hum escaping my lips. He continued scratching up and down my scalp, grabbing fistfuls of hair and softly brushing out tangles from the day.

"Oh my God..." I purred.

Charles released his lips from my neck and let out a soft chuckle. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Mhm...vvvery."

His fingers found their way to my forehead and temples, massaging just like he had at the base of my neck. My head—and as a matter of fact, my whole body—felt like I did not endure the hell I did today. It felt like how it did this morning, before this whole mess, when I was lying with Charles in his bedroll.

That being said, who needed any sort of medicine when you have a boyfriend with magic fingers?

Charles removed his hands from my head, and grabbed my hair that was still over my shoulder, guiding it to him. He smoothed out my hair, combing it the way he had just moments ago.

"I'm so lucky." I heard him whisper. "You're so gorgeous."

"Are you talking to my hair or me?"

Charles let out a laugh. I could picture him shaking his head with that soft grin on his face. "Every inch of you, from head to toe, is more beautiful than any landscape on this Earth."

I felt my cheeks burn up, hot like the roaring campfire outside. Charles never fails at making me feel like the only woman in the world.

He skillfully separated my hair into three equal parts, but before he worked his magic, he placed his hands on my head and leaned in. "Do you want me to braid your hair? I'll go gentle, since you have a headache."

I nodded. "You know I can never pass up your braids, Charles."

With that, he went to work, crossing my strands of hair over one another. He made sure to be careful, going slower than usual so he wouldn't accidentally pull too hard.

I shut my eyes again, letting relaxation spread through me. I could easily fall asleep like this, with my lover's hands taking care of me and my hair.

A moment later, I felt a soft tap against my shoulder. I opened my eyes and looked behind me at Charles.

"Done. It looks beautiful."

"I bet it does." I turned myself around to face him. I swung my hair over my shoulder to admire the braid. My face lit up at the intricate style of the hairstyle. "I love it."

"Yeah?" Charles smiled. "I love you."

I rolled my eyes playfully and placed a soft kiss on his lips. Charles cupped my face in response, pulling me closer to him. My hands traveled up his chest and settled behind his neck.

He groaned into my mouth and lifted me onto his lap. I wrapped my legs around his hips in reaction. Charles released my face and let his hands splay across my back instead. He broke the kiss as he carefully laid me down on the bedroll.

I looked up at him with rosy cheeks and my chest rising with each rapid breath. "Charles—"

"If you wanna stop we can. I know you're sore."

"No. I want to."

He smiled, but before he would move or do anything else I spoke. "But... could you go slow?"

A big smile spread across Charles' face. "Of course. Anything for you."

YOUR POV

The ride back to camp felt like it took years. The words from the letter, my husband's voice swirling in my head, distracting me from the beautiful landscapes around us that I usually loved to marvel at.

Arthur is a kind man, wanting to help and all, but this was my own doing. If I just stayed put, ignored my husband's infidelity and lived a life blind to his faults, I wouldn't be in this mess.

My fingers itched whenever I glanced at Arthur's vest. I saw him stash the letter in his vest pocket and I wanted to read it at least one last time, just to make sure I had all the words down.

But the things I knew he said stuck out the most. The sentences: "Don't underestimate me, I will find you and I'll make sure you never see her again" and "She's my own blood, and I deserve to have her in my life, whether you're in it or not," hit me like tons of bricks—my heart dropping past my feet into the depths of the Earth's core.

Daisy gasped loudly, making me jump. "Look at that!"

Everyone's eyes followed her tiny finger to a farm nearby. The cows were out munching on the grass.

Arthur hummed and looked back at the trail. He slapped the reins against the horse's backs to make them trot faster. "Yeah? Are those cows?"

Daisy nodded her head eagerly. "Mhm!"

"What sound do they make?"

Daisy thought for a moment before answering Arthur. "Moo!"

"Yer so smart." Arthur praised, his eyes never leaving the trail.

"Am I smart too, Uncle Arthur?" Jack asked from the back of the wagon.

"Y'all are both smart, Jack." Abigail brushed the back of her child's head. Jack hummed and opened one of his candy wrappers.

I couldn't even enjoy this sweet moment. The threats my husband made in the letter made me anxious that every man was him. That Arthur would follow a turn on the trail—and there he is.

It frightened me, but I knew he would never take my child away from me. He would have to pry her out of my cold, dead hands if it ever got that far. And from his words at the general store, I believed Arthur wouldn't let that happen either.

"Mama, do you know what sound a cow makes?" Daisy's inquisitive voice broke my terrifying thoughts.

I put on a smile and looked down at her. "Is it...quack quack?"

Daisy laughed, her little hands shooting up to her mouth to make sure I didn't see her laughing at me—which I definitely did. "No..."

I look up at the sky, my face contorting into an overdramatic thinking face. "Hmm...oink oink?"

"Ugh, mama!" Daisy crossed her little arms. "Cows say moo!"

I scoffed playfully. "That's right!"

Daisy's face beamed and nudged Arthur. "Mama didn't know that cows say moo!"

Arthur laughed and glanced my way, his eyes having this sort of glimmer in them. "Yer mama's silly."

"Am I silly?" Daisy innocently looked up at Arthur and batted her lashes.

My fingers brushed a stray hair from Daisy's forehead behind her ear. "The silliest."

Daisy was out like a light. She had lots of fun today.

The distant sun was lowering into the horizon. Some gang members had retreated back to their respective tents, but I sat on the side of Horseshoe Overlook, admiring the mountains in the far distance and the ocean of tippy tops of trees that I never saw.

This was the first moment of bliss I had all day. Finally, for a second, there were no thoughts of my daughter—the light of my life, my best friend—being taken away by some grubby, filthy hands. I just took a long breath of fresh air and closed my eyes.

"You should be careful when yer this close to the edge."

I opened my eyes and looked up to see Arthur standing next to me. One hand was resting lazily on his belt and the other gripped his hat. He looked down at me with a stern, but soft face—the kind of face I give to Daisy when I mean business.

I scooted up and leaned up against a nearby tree. "Better?"

"Yup." Arthur sat down next to me, setting his hat on his knee. "I know today was...err, rough."

I looked over at him and nod. "Yeah."

"You know, I mean what I said back in town."

I sighed. I wish I just could erase the whole day from existence. "I know, Arthur."

"No, like...I really, really mean it. You and Daisy...both of ya mean so much to me."

A smile broke out on my face for a moment, but it was quickly replaced with a neutral expression. "Thanks Arthur. You mean a lot to Daisy and me. She loves you like...well, like a father."

Arthur's breath hitched and he quickly looked away. My brows scrunched up in confusion. "Did...I say something bad?"

"Arthur?" I softly called out. My hand reached out, but hesitated and just resulted in me awkwardly putting my hand down on my knee.

I saw him wipe his eye and then sat up straight and cleared his throat. He met my eyes again, but this time his were puffy. "That's...an honor."

Did he just cry? What for? I didn't want to pry, so I just offered a soft smile. "I'll let her know."

Arthur nodded and looked out into the wildlife in front of us.

Did I make him uncomfortable by calling him a father? I bit my lip. "Arthur...I'm sorry if I said something that made you—"

"No. Yer alright." Arthur looked back at you, his eyes still slightly glossy as he managed a slight smile. "I missed bein' a father."

My head tilted at him. "What do you mean?"

Arthur let out a deep sigh and his fingers absentmindedly plucking out the grass next to him. "I had a kid. Isaac."

I felt my face a sudden warmth bloom in my chest, but it faded instantly as the weight of his past tense sank in. "Had?"

"Yeah. Had."

I'm afraid to ask. "What...happened?" My voice was barely above a whisper.

"He...he died. Along with his mother. Got robbed all for ten dollars."

I moved closer to him and placed a reassuring hand to his forearm, like my grip could suck the grief from his body and dispose of it. "Arthur...I am so so sorry. I can't even imagine."

"The thing is...I wasn't even around that much. So, why does it bother me like this years later? Eliza, his mother, she knew who I was. She knew I couldn't provide for her and our son like a proper father should." Arthur shook his head and looked away for a brief moment. "I should've been there every single second, every goddamn day."

"Arthur—"

Arthur's head shot back to me, his voice stern. "No. I should've. And I tried. I really did. I showed up every couple of months, gave them money, food, but if I would've just stepped up more, been a man—took care of what I did to Eliza's life. She and Isaac would still be alive. He would've been sixteen."

"Arthur—"

"And she would've been just a couple years younger than me. All of this mess just for a moment of bliss. I was young and stupid. I'd go back in a heartbeat and change the way I acted, spoke, did anything. God, I was so dumb. I—"

Arthur," my grip got tighter, "you didn't know. And I'm sure if you knew Eliza and Isaac's fate you would do everything you could to stop it back then. You did what was right, Arthur. Hell, you're more of a man than my husband will ever be, and he's thirty-eight."

Arthur shook his head.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

Arthur's silence spoke volumes.

"You aren't a hardened criminal with no emotions. You care about everyone, and you always try to open your heart to new people and ideas, even when your heart is full. That is admirable, Arthur. And that to me is the most masculine thing a man could do."

Arthur's eyes glistened under the dusk-filled sky. His breath hitched as he studied my eyes, my nose, my lips...my whole face. He shook his head softly. "That's...very kind of you to say about me."

"Well, it's true." I glanced up into his eyes through my lashes. "I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true, Arthur. You know that I don't do that shit."

Arthur let out a huff. "I know."

His eyes flicked down to my lips once more, then back up into my eyes. Seeing him like this reminded me of the kiss at the campfire just last night. I don't know what came over me, but kissing him just felt right in the moment. I'd be lying if I said I didn't find him handsome, but just because a man is handsome doesn't mean you can just kiss him willy-nilly.

He leaned in closer and closer, and so did I. It's like we were moving in unison, like we planned and practiced this moment for months. Like it was in our strands of DNA.

Arthur's hand went up and grazed my cheek. "We keep on doin' this..." His voice was smooth and sultry.

"It's ironic, isn't it?"

Arthur chuckled softly. "Yeah. Ironic." His hand dug into my hair on the back of my head. "Ironic can be...good, right?"

I didn't even try to hide my smile. "Ironic is neither good nor bad."

"That's good for us..." Arthur's voice was barely above a whisper as his lips fit perfectly against mine. It was like our lips were the last pieces of a puzzle.

My arms locked around his neck. He groaned into the kiss and pressed me up against him more if that was even possible. Our lips began to move in perfect rhythm, a perfect dance. This was the best kiss I had ever had in my entire life.

We both slowly broke away for air. Arthur rested his forehead against mine and softly panted, his chest heaving up and down. Our breaths filled the gradual quiet of the camp.

Arthur's hands moved to my cheeks again and held my face with meaning, soft determination. "I'm serious. If he comes here, I won't let him even breathe the same air as you and Daisy."

"I know you won't." I saw his lips curve, a genuine smile coating his face.

"Mama? Mama and Arthur?" Arthur and I broke apart and turned towards Daisy's tiny voice behind us.

"Sweetpea, what're you doing up?"

Daisy walked up to me and wrapped her tiny arms around my neck. "I had a bad dream."

"A bad dream? Well, that ain't good." Arthur patted her back softly. "You know, I have bad dreams too."

Daisy's eyes widened. "You do?"

Arthur nodded. "Yup. Everyone does, but it doesn't make 'em any less scary."

"Does mama have bad dreams?" She looked over at me for an answer and I just nodded in response. I know I'll have lots of bad dreams tonight. I looked over at Arthur and studied his sharp jaw, his wavy golden hair...But I also know that I'll have lots of good dreams tonight too.

"How about we go back into the tent, and I'll read you a story? How does that sound?" I brushed back a messy strand of Daisy's hair.

Daisy nodded and snuggled into my side.

"Alright." I stood and scooped up Daisy in my arms. I looked down at Arthur, who was still sitting in the soft grass. "I'll...see you later, Arthur."

"Yeah, see ya."

The cool, night wind whipped against the train window where my head rested. It had been twenty minutes since I last checked my pocket watch. I told my husband that I'd meet him at the station at eight, but with the darkening clouds overpowering the sky, I doubted I'd be there on the dot like I promised.

I was dreading on seeing my husband. Our marriage has been going down hill for years now.

I can't stand talking to the man. All he did was complain about the men at work, or our livestock, or the dinner I've put on the table. That ungrateful bastard. At least I am feeding him. It's like I'm not married at all. He goes to work, then comes home. We may have sex, but we usually don't. And if we do, I have to withstand 10 minutes sex that is the equivalent to nails on a chalkboard, then finish myself off after he's fallen asleep. Duality of man.

Blinking away the tears building up in my eyes, I tried to focus on the passing trees and the occasional animals scurrying outside the train rather than my failing, horrible marriage. God, why did I get married?

The train screeched to a halt. My body jerked forward, instinctively catching myself on the seat in front of me.

BANG!

A gunshot rang through the carriage. My head shot up at three masked men storming in, letting their presence be known.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is a robbery." Boomed one of the men, then whispered to the other two beside him. One of them moved more into my carriage while the other two walked back to the ones in front.

"This cannot be happening to me right now..."

"Hands up, keep 'em where I can see 'em." One of the men growled at a man sitting four seats in front of me with his gun cocked.

The man raised up his shaky hands, but kept his gaze locked onto the back of the seat in front of him.

I let out a shaky breath and closed my eyes. I wasn't a religious woman, but I'd become one if it saved my ass.

"Well, well." The outlaw said gruffly, but the tone was way softer than it was previously. "Aren't you a pretty little thing?"

I slowly opened my eyes, letting them trail up the mountain of a man in front of me. When my eyes met his, I felt my face burn up. I never would've thought an outlaw could look devastatingly handsome, especially with only the top of his face showing.

I opened my mouth and some embarrassing garble came out. Smooth. Real smooth.

"Come on now, hands where I can see 'em, ma'am." He demanded.

I nodded and lifted my hands up slowly.

The outlaw adjusted his footing, placing his hands casually on his belt "You know, you picked the wrong train if you were lookin' for a quiet ride."

"Who does this asshole think he is? How did I know that him and his...confidants...were going to pick this train out of the million other trains to rob?"

I didn't want to be crass, just do what the man wants. At least, that's what my brain said, but my mouth had ideas of its own. "And you picked the wrong person to bully."

His brows shot up in a small, surprised expression and chuckled. "Oh really?"

I frowned and delivered a hard smack right against his masked cheek. His eyes were shut as his face was turned to the side. His hand went up to rub where I smacked him.

Time seemed to stop. I'd never hurt a fly, literally. My husband had to kill one of our livestock and I couldn't handle seeing the act. My hands were shaky and I could just see my fate now, the outlaw blowing my brains out.

He stayed like that for a moment to regain his tough-guy demeanor, then turned back to me. "You just slapped me?" It was a statement. A fact, obviously, but he had an inquiring inflection in his voice.

But he wasn't upset. Matter of fact, the corners of his eyes creased. Was he...was he smiling?

"Well little lady you have some fire in ya, don't you?" He paused reading my confused face before continuing. "I like that. What's yer story, hm?"

I opened my mouth, then closed it. I did this one more time before answering quite bluntly. "Why would I tell you?"

The outlaw's smile only got wider. "Like keepin' secrets, huh? I see, well how about you come with me. Maybe the ride'll get you talkin'."

"W-what?!" I blurted out.

"Come on," he grabbed my arm with his two, big hands and pulled me up from my seat, "get up."

I was thinking about defying him, about keeping my ass planted on the seat. I don't need to go with him, I barely even know the man! But another part of me was all blushy and giggly that a sexy man like him wanted to whisk me away from my sad excuse of a life.

Apparently I couldn't make any rational decision, because I made his job easier and willingly stood up.

He pulled my arms forward and cupped both of my hands with one of his rough ones. "Now," he began, "you must understand I'll have to tie these pretty hands of yours together. Can't have you slappin' me again."

I just nodded in response, hopefully masking my flush and the heat pooling in between my thighs. The outlaw released his lasso hanging from his belt and slipped the loop around my hands. "I'm not gonna tie it real tight." The loop began to shrink around my hands. "Unless you give me a reason to." He muttered.

Before I could respond to his flirty comment, he yelled back to the other two men. "Dutch, Micah, let's go. We got everything we need." The outlaw led me to the front of the carriage, his spurs ringing against the wood floor.

My eyes glance around at all the patrons watching us, watching me. Would it be narcissistic to say I kind of liked the attention? Like, hell yeah look at me, leaving with the criminal that could've killed us all if he wanted to!

We exit the train and into the cool night. The men's horses were waiting for them under some trees nearby.

"Seems like Morgan was more focused on gettin' some than the bonds." The blonde one in front of the outlaw grumbled to the dark-haired one in front.

"Mind yer damn business, Micah." The outlaw barked, pulling me next to him. "Me and this pretty lady have some unfinished business. She's comin' with me" He shook his head and whispered to me. "Don't listen to him."

I gave him a small smile as he whistled for his horse. When his horse came trotting up, reality hit me like five tons of bricks.

"What the hell am I doing? Where the hell is he going to take me? Is he going to kill me like I thought he would in the train carriage? If he was, then why didn't he just kill me there? Maybe he cared about the clean up. Oh God. Just because he's an outlaw doesn't mean he doesn't have manners...oh my God I'm going to die."

I watched him pat his horse's neck and pull down his mask. He was even more gorgeous than I thought. With his strong jaw, his piercing eyes...I could've been fooled he was a dashing stage actor.

He stared at me like he was waiting for an answer.

Oh shit, maybe he was waiting for an answer. "Sorry, what?"

"You ever ridden before?"

I felt my lips curve into a smirk. The outlaw sighed and turned away, but I could see his lips were doing the same as mine. He made eye contact with me. "I meant the horse, ma'am."

"I have. Both, uh, instances."

He nodded and looked down at his boots, a faint pink spreading across his cheeks. "Alright, well, uh get in the front then. I'll get in the back so you don't fall clean off." He hoisted me up onto his horse and he slid onto the saddle behind me.

"So, you wanna tell me why you were on a train at night on yer own?" The outlaw broke the silence of the now fifteen minute ride.

"I was meeting my husband at the train station in Valentine. I needed to go into Rhodes to pick up a few things."

"Ah, yer husband." His voice sounded deflated, saddened almost. "What kind of yellow-bellied man would leave his woman to ride a train at night all alone?"

"He had to work."

"You aren't scared?"

"Why should I be scared? It's not like my train will be held up by some degenerates...oh, wait." My voice dripped with sarcasm.

He sighed. I saw his grip tighten on the reins. "It's just...a dangerous world out here for a lady on her own."

I scoffed and rolled my eyes, albeit he couldn't see my face. "I can handle myself, thank you very much."

The outlaw chuckled. I felt his chest against my back move up and down. "Oh really, you can handle yerself?"

I sniffed. "Ugh, yes!"

"Well, color me even more intrigued."

If I could cross my arms, I would have at this moment. "Well, mister, I like being alone. I don't need anyone to protect me."

He was silent for a moment before speaking again. "Well, Ms. Lonestar, tell me more about this husband that lets a beautiful woman like you handle herself."

I was hesitant at first to tell him. It really wasn't his place to know my husband was as exciting as a rock and couldn't even make me come, but I've done millions of things I have never even imagined doing tonight, so...

"My husband is dreadfully boring. All I do is stay at home and tend to the house while he's gone. I never can do anything out of the ordinary unless I tell him otherwise."

"He doesn't let you do what you want, huh? Yer a pretty headstrong lady, does he have his hands full with that attitude?"

I elbowed the outlaw and he let out a small yelp.

He chuckled. "I'm just messin' with ya. I personally find yer attitude," he paused for a moment, "...intriguin'."

"And what exactly do you mean by intriguing?"

There was another break of silence before he answered. "What it means to me...well, let me take this hat off." He placed his hat onto my head, it temporarily covering my eyes."

"You better take your dirty hat off my head before I fling it to the buzzards."

He did a combination of a scoff and a chuckle. "Fine, fine." He lifted the hat off my head and plopped it on his own. "You do know about that rule, yeah?"

I, in fact, did know about the rule. That's how I met my husband, back when he was fun. I decided to have fun with the outlaw and not answer.

It seemed like he caught onto my silence. "Ha, I should've known a lady as feisty yerself wouldn't be so easy. See, you are intriguin'."

The early evening turned into pitch black night real quick. The horses whinnied and whined. The outlaws stopped their horses in the middle of the woods.

"Dutch, Micah, I can barely see. We can set up camp here for the night." The outlaw slid off his horse and grabbed me, lifting me off effortlessly and setting me on the ground.

The two other outlaws—Dutch and Micah, apparently—dismounted their horses and were grabbing their stuff.

"Wait, wait." The outlaw stopped them in their tracks. "You both set up camp far away from here."

"Why, Morgan?" The blonde one, Micah I think, grumbled.

"So I don't have to worry about you pullin' some shit Micah." The outlaw turned to the dark-haired one, Dutch. "Keep an eye on him. I don't trust him one bit."

Micah growled and intensely mounted his horse and rode out of the outlaw's makeshift camp in a flash. Dutch, on the other hand, took his time and rode out behind him. Then, it was just him and me.

"I'm gonna get our camp set up." The outlaw took off his bedroll from his horse's back and unrolled it on the ground. "Now, I know you like to be miss independent, but I'd like if you stayed right here."

I nodded and watched him crouch down to start a fire. The crackling of the flames filled the air and the warmth spread across my whole body.

"Alright," The outlaw stood up from the tent he'd pitched, dusting off his knees, " the camp is pretty much set up."

He walked over to me and grabbed the lasso loop that was taut around my wrists. "Let's get these hands untied, only if you promise you'll behave."

I smirked. "I doubt I will."

He let out one of his chuckles that I was slowly getting used to. "I also doubt it, but I never said I was a smart man, and I don't wanna keep you tied up all night if I don't have to." He loosened the loop and slid it off my wrists. He watched me with a careful eye before turning around to the fire.

"What if I ran away? Would he...run after me?"

I backed away slowly, making sure he wasn't going to turn back around. When his back was to me for a couple seconds more I sprinted. My boots hit the ground in a steady rhythm as I ran between the trees and the shrubbery.

I heard heavy thuds behind me and before I could turn around to see the man I was hoping to see, I was yanked backwards.

"Miss..." The outlaw's voice soft voice rang through my ears, I struggled against his grasp. "I ain't gonna hurt you..." I stopped struggling and looked back at him. "Are you calm now?"

I nodded.

"Goddamn..." The outlaw took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling. "I'm usually the one bein' chased...I'm not used to doin' the chasin', especially not after a lady."

His eyes raked over me, my body, until it reached my face. I felt nervous under his gaze, no man has ever looked at me like this before, at least to my knowledge.

"Sorry for starin', just...yer eyes in this light look...very beautiful." I watched as his eyes flicked down. "And yer lips..."

The outlaw took a deep breath in, his broad shoulders rising with it. I saw him step closer and felt my feet doing the same until our lips met with a slow, searing kiss.

He kissed me again, letting a hungry growl slip. He gasped and pulled away quickly, looking everywhere but at me. "I-I'm sorry, miss. I...I couldn't help myself."

That kiss alone had me almost coming. It was passionate, it was oddly romantic, it was everything I have been wanting for a while now. I licked my bottom lip in desperation to see if I can taste him. I couldn't and that was a problem. "No, don't apologize."

He finally looked back at me. "No?"

I closed the gap, my lips crashing into his unexpectedly. I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist as I hoisted myself up onto him.

He stumbled back and his hands flew underneath my thighs. He broke the kiss breathlessly. "Now little lady, you can't be wrappin' yer legs around me like that, especially if you got no intention t—"

I kissed him again, as he growled into my mouth. The kisses became more and more sloppy as we continued, with my hands threading through his golden hair.

"I wasn't expectin' that from miss Lonestar...fuck..." The outlaw breathed out. I hooked my ankles together.

He continued to kiss me, the passion becoming more intense as he backed up into a nearby tree. I clenched my thighs together to alleviate the throbbing heat between them.

"Now—kiss—I know yer married—kiss—but—kiss—if you keep squeezin' those thighs around my waist, especially when we're kissin' like this, I'll just have to take you right here 'nd right now, little lady."

"Not if—kiss—I take you first." I retorted back. I look back at him with a smug expression on my face. He seemed amused at my "fighting" words.

"You think yer in charge in this situation?" He let out a pitying laugh. "Well, you'll have to prove it, miss."

We continued to kiss. If he wants me to prove it, I'll do just that. Taking my chance, I clamped down on his lip and pulled it when pulling away from our lip-lock.

"Damn..." He pulled away. "You bit me."

A smile spread to my cheeks, but I tried to hide it for right now. "Really?" I could taste the metallic tang of his blood in my mouth. It was heavenly.

"Yeah." The outlaw wiped the back of his hand against his lip. "I'm bleedin'."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." My smile shamelessly broke out across my face.

He could basically see the insincerity in my voice when he looked back up from the tiny smear of blood on his hand. "You are full of surprises, aren't ya? You like the taste of my blood, yeah?"

I grabbed his hand and licked the blood off of it. His face was full of amazement, with his eyes sparkling like diamonds. He let out a combination of a growl and a chuckle. It was gross and dirty. "Let's get you back to camp."

When we reached camp, he set me down in front of the campfire and plopped himself down right next to me.

"Why don't we get you out of that corset." He was already slipping off his own shirt, and placed his hat carefully on the ground next to us.

I nodded almost too eagerly as I unbuttoned and slipped off my blouse to reveal my undergarment to him. I turned around so he could undo the clasps.

I felt his fingertips glide across my shoulders and down to my shoulder blades, grazing the clasps that held back all of me. Then I felt some tugging. A lot...of tugging.

"Goddamnit..." I heard the outlaw grumble.

"Do you need help?" I turned my head back at him to see him working up a sweat at getting my corset unhooked.

"How many clasps does this thing need?" He tugged some more.

"You're gonna rip it, can I just help y—"

"No, no, I can do it..."

Famous last words.

I heard a sharp rip sound and felt myself fall out of my corset. I grabbed myself and whipped my head back at him.

The outlaw laughed. "Well, that sure was an easier way."

"My husband paid good money for that, you know."

The outlaw rolled his eyes playfully and pecked my lips. "Don't worry, I'll get you an even better one. Now turn around I wanna see your beautiful breasts."

I rolled my eyes at his comment, but I couldn't help but blush. I turned myself around and saw his eyes become as wide as saucers as my breasts came into his view.

"Damn..." The outlaw muttered. "Yer husband is one lucky man. Come 'ere."

His hands grabbed my waist and pulled me closer to him. He ran his hands up my waist and onto my breasts, massaging them and grazing my hard nipples. His mouth worked down my neck, sucking and biting along my shoulder and my collarbone.

His kisses met my breasts, and I let out a soft moan. I felt his breath against my nipples as he chuckled at my reaction. He took one of my nipples into his mouth, carefully licking and biting while massaging my breast. The other hand massaged and pinched my other nipple.

I couldn't keep quiet, the woods being filled with a mix of our sounds—his soft growls and my desperate moans.

"You like that, huh?" He took off his mouth from my nipple with a simple, pop! "That train robbery was probably the best thing Dutch has ever planned."

He planted his lips on me again, but I wanted more. I felt myself seep through my panties. I needed him, whether it was me on my back or me on top of him. I grabbed his hand that was on my breast and shoved it into my waistband of my skirt.

The outlaw let out a moan. "Are you that desperate for me to touch yer cunt? That attitude seems to be disappearin' when your nipples are in my mouth, hm?"

My tone was sharp, but breathless at the same time. "You're not going to be saying that when I'm the one fucking you senseless, cowboy."

"I was just jokin'. Besides, I want touch and taste you just as bad as you want me to, so let's get ya out of that skirt." I unbuttoned my skirt and lifted my hips up to slide it off.

"Fuck yeah..." The outlaw mumbled to himself as he gazed traced every curve and indent of my lower half. "Look at you, soakin' through those panties of yours."

I shuddered at the sensation of the outlaw grazing my damp, clothed pussy. His fingers hooked the side of my panties and pulled it over to revel her in her full, wet glory.

One of his fingers traced down my naked sex and slowly slid in. I sat up straighter and felt my toes clench. I let out embarrassing moans and whimpers. I've never had this done to me before by someone else.

"Mmm, does that feel good? Yeah?"

I nodded. "Mhm, so good."

"Not to be...big-headed or anythin'...but we need to get you ready for my cock."

"I reckon...I reckon I can handle it." I breathed out.

He let out that chuckle of his. "We'll see what that mouth is sayin' when I'm stretchin' you out. Now relax and lie down for me. My mouth needs to be on yer drippin' cunt."

We both laid down on the ground. He positioned himself in front of me and licked up where he grazed, then sticking his tongue inside. My hands flew to his head, threading my fingers through his hair.

"Oh, fuck..." I moaned out, tilting my head back.

His face was fully in my pussy, his nose brushing up against my sensitive clit. I screamed and whimpered, feeling tears well up in my eyes.

His fingers came up and rubbed my clit while he devoured me like I was his last meal. I felt my legs shake and the need to pee. I rested my hands on his shoulders to try to push him away but he wouldn't budge.

"Yer close...you squeezin' down on me."

"S-sorry..."

He growled. "No...keep doin' that."

The outlaw continued to lick and rub and the urge to pee became urgent. I tried to push him away again. "I'm gonna pee..."

He continued to lick. "No you ain't." He said into my pussy.

"No you don't understand."

He did a final lick and lifted his head up. I saw my dampness all down his chin in his beard. "Trust me, you ain't. Now let me take care of ya."

I nodded and watched him return back down. It didn't take long for that sensation to come back.

"Come on, come for me. Come on my tongue, on my fingers, and my goddamn face." He demanded.

"When you come, scream my name." He spit into my pussy and licked and kissed. "Scream, 'Arthur, Arthur fuckin' Morgan."

"F-fuck...I'm so close." I moaned. "Fuck, Arthur...Arthur!" I let go and released, my legs were shaking a mile a minute and everything was wet. Everything. I still felt him licking and sucking up the remains.

When Arthur finally came back up, his whole mouth was wet. "It's been a while since you come, huh?"

"It's usually me who makes me" I stopped and shook my head, "—but it felt different this time." I looked down at my mess on the ground between my thighs. "Why...why is it so much?"

"Because you weren't taken care of by yer poor excuse of a husband, sweetheart."

"W-What?" I pant and wipe sweat that is pouring down my forehead. Who knew sex could be so sweat inducing.

"God, I know I said yer eyes looked gorgeous before, but...when they're all glazed over...I could get used to this." His voice was laced with hunger.

"B-but my husba—"

"I know yer tied with another man, but he ain't here." Arthur growled. "Tonight, yer mine."

The last part saddened me a tiny bit, reminding me that this will only be for tonight. Right now. I felt gross for being with another man, but also liberated, like I was flying.

"Now sweetheart, I'm about to bust through my pants. Why don't you show me how you were gonna 'fuck me senseless'."

I let out breathless laugh. "You sure cowboy, 'cause I'm about to ride you like a horse."

"I like to see you try."

We retreated to the bedroll that was now inside the tent. I kissed him with vigor as I pushed him down onto the bedroll. I unbuttoned his pants and pulled them all the way down. I whipped out his throbbing cock. It was way bigger than my husband's, bigger than anyone I've read about either.

"Wow...um..." I looked at it standing up tall and proud.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"It's just...huge."

Arthur let out his chuckle. "Thank you kindly."

I admired his cock so more, seeing if I can memorize what his cock looks like so I can fantasize about it when I'm with my husband.

"Are you havin' doubts about fuckin' me?"

"Pssh, no." But I most definitely was.

I straddled Arthur and guided him to my entrance. I took a deep breath in when I felt his tip against me.

"I know I joke, but take yer time."

I took another breath and then slid down onto him, earning a loud moan from both of us.

"Goddamn yer tight..." He sputtered out, his hands instantly gripping my waist.

I slid down further until I reached the bottom of his base. "Fuck..." I closed my eyes.

"Are you alright?"

My eyes shot open. "Yeah." I gave him a small smile to reassure him. "I'm fine."

I slowly start to move up and down in a rhythmic motion. After a couple times, I adjusted to his length and it was easy for me to move without immense pain.

"I think...I think I wanna ride you like a horse now."

"Then ride me like a horse, giddy up girl." Arthur encouraged me. I smiled down at him and went at a faster, rougher pace.

"Oh, fuck!" The outlaw whimpered and tilted his head back. I ran my hands along his chest, grabbing at his pecs.

"God...you weren't kiddin' when you said you wanted to ride me like a fuckin' horse." Arthur moaned, his grip on my waist becoming tighter.

"You're so good for me." I confessed. "Your dick is so good...and I love how you react to me. And I love how you took care of me."

"Mhm, I love it too...and...and I love when you react to...to me." Arthur's beautiful sounds were infiltrating his sentences, making his speech slurred. "F-fuck, I love it."

My hands found his own hard nipples and began to massage them like he did mine. "You like that, yeah?"

"Yeah, I do...I really do." Arthur moaned out.

Hopefully no innocent bystanders were nearby.

"Fuck...can yo—" He cut himself off with a moan.

"What? You need to say that again." I moved faster with more force. Our skin was creating a sharp rhythmic slapping sound.

"Slap me. Please, slap me."

"Slap you? You really want me to slap you." I let out a laugh.

"Please. I loved it...back on the train I loved it...it felt so good. Please!" Arthur pathetically begged like his life depended on it. I found it cute, and quite sexy. I've never done anything like this before, it was like it was right out of an erotica. "Please, miss. Please?"

My hand traveled up from his chest and softly gripped his throat while I raised my hand and slapped him across the face. Arthur's cheek turned a bright red and he looked up at me with stars in his eyes.

"Fuck...do it again, please! Please, miss!"

It was funny how Arthur, who just had his mouth all over my breasts and fingered me till I came harder than before, was now putty in my hands.

"You're so dirty." I spat, and raised my hand and slapped him again. "You're just a slut aren't ya?"

"I'm whatever you want me to be, darlin'." Arthur whimpered, his hips twitching beneath mine. "Fuck, just use me. Use my cock for yer tight pussy. That's all I want. I want yer perfect body...I want you to use me until you don't want me no more."

"Then fuckin' touch me. I wanna come with you." I grabbed his hand and dragged it to my pussy. He found my clit once again and began to rub it eagerly.

"Yer so beautiful...gorgeous...goddamnit perfect." He sputtered. He thrusted his cock up into me, matching the rhythm that I'd set. "We were meant to meet..." He confessed, pussy-whipped. "F-fate brought us together on that train tonight, miss." I moaned at his confession. "I don't think I'll ever be able to give you up."

"F-fuck...I'm close," I slapped Arthur again and he let out a loud, whiny moan, " you better fuckin come for me."

Right as the command left my lips, Arthur's body went convulsed beneath me. He let out a deep, guttural roar that vibrated straight through my thighs as his hips gave one final thrust upward, buying his massive cock as deep inside me as it could go. He completely spilled into me, the intense heat of his come flooding my insides.

That sensation pushed me entirely over the edge. I threw my head back, a loud, uninhibited cry tearing from my throat as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me. My legs shook, completely giving out, and I collapsed forward onto his broad chest.

"Fuck..." Arthur panted. "I'm still comin'." I felt him fill me all the way up to the brim, some of his spend dripping out of me.

Arthur's big arms wrapped around my back, holding me tight against him as we both lay there in the dark tent, completely breathless and drenched in sweat.

"Goddamn, darlin'..." Arthur breathed out into the quiet of the tent, his voice completely shot and gravelly. He let out a low chuckle, his chest rumbling beneath me. "You completely ruined me, pretty girl."

He breathed out. "I don't think...I could ever get tired of you layin' on me like this..."

I pressed a kiss to his lips. "I know I couldn't."

Arthur smiled and kissed me back. He buried his hands into my hair and massaged my scalp. "You were perfect...so perfect..." He place a sweet kiss to my temple. I carefully slid off of him, which resulted in a unison moans.

"This is not how I imaged this night would end." I looked up at him, then snuggled into his chest.

"Yeah, me neither...I'm glad it ended this way though."

There was silence between us for a few seconds. It wasn't awkward, it was peaceful. I didn't want this night to end. In fact, I would gladly give up my life for this.

"Am I crazy? I must be crazy?"

I looked up at Arthur. His eyes were closed, but I knew he wasn't sleeping. I wondered if he wanted the same. If he would want me forever.

"How can I bring this up without making this completely awkward if he rejects me? Oh, wait..."

I get up from his chest. He lifts up his head as his gaze follows me walking out of the tent naked.

"What are ya—where are ya goin'?"

I grabbed his hat off the ground and placed it on my head, giving him a cute pose.

I saw a smile spread slowly across his face. "Oh, so now you wanna wear it? You know what that means, don't ya? Wearin' that hat means you belong to me, and I'd belong to you."

"Why do you think I wore the hat, then?" I smiled and bit my lip to hide my excitement a tad.

Arthur got up and walked over to where I was. We were both butt-ass naked out in the woods. He grabbed my chin and tilted my head up. "I'll make sure I take care of ya real good. Real, real good." He caressed my cheek and looked deeply into my eyes, his own sparkling in the moonlight. "We can have many nights like this one. What do you say?"

"Arthur, I'd do anything to ride you like a horse again."

He laughed and grabbed my face tenderly before planting a chaste kiss to my lips. "I guess this means that yer husband is goin' to be standin' at the train station waitin' for sometin' that ain't goin' to be arrivin'."

I hate him.

I hate how he tries to tell me how to clean my own rifle.

I hate how he rides alongside me when we're on the trail.

I hate how I can hear the heavy, rhythmic thud of his boots on the grass. Why are his feet so goddamn heavy!?

I hate how he struts around like he's the man.

I hate how everyone loves him, ogles at him, needs him.

And I hate how he sits across from me at the fire, with salted beef in hand and his jaw going to work on the tough meat. A cocky glint glistens in his eyes and his jaw ticks ever so slightly when he tilts his head to the side.

Arthur Morgan. God, I hate him.

But as much as I wallow in my hatred, there's something about him that is different from the rest of the camp members, or anyone I've met in my life.

I notice things I haven't noticed before in a man. I find myself tracing the curve of his broad shoulders with my eyes, and the swing of his hips when he's walking towards me to tell me I'm "ruining my gun when I run my hand along the barrel like that".

I don't care that his frame is so big that I can recognize him just by his shadow, or his veins in his forearms tighten when he yanks my gun out of my hands. And I certainly don't care about the way his hips are just as hypnotic on a horse as well.

But, my mind can't help but wander to that night on the trail. It was late, the star-filled night sky was glimmering and the thick humid air from the rain engulfed us. It was either that, or the thick tension I could cut with my knife. Arthur suggested stopped for a bite. So I watched him, out of spite, biting and tearing his piece of meat, juice dripping down his hands. My blood was hot, as I watched his fingers enter his mouth with each piece of meat he was ingesting.

I wanted to look away, but I couldn't pull my gaze away. And I knew that he knew, because when I finally pulled my eyes away, I saw a glimmer in his eyes. A glimmer I've only seen from the working girls at the saloon.

I remember our eyes dancing with each other, our gazes flicking over each other's bodies—mine specifically, his mouth. He smirked and leaned in, the fire creating dangerous shadows on his face that made me feel as hot as the fire.

He pulled out a cigarette from his satchel and lit it with the slowly dying flames of the fire. He leaned back and took a long drag, his right hand lazily grabbed his clothed cock. My heartbeat in my head obstructed my hearing that I could barely hear him say:

"Yer starin', boy?"

It all started so fast. His thick cock slammed in and out of my mouth, touching the back of my throat like it was threatening to travel down into my stomach. His one hand gripped the back of my head, helping me slam down to his balls, the other wielded the cigarette as he took drag after drag.

It ended just as quickly. His hot, thick, white come dribbled out of my mouth and onto the hard earth below my knees. He grabbed my hair and roughly slid my head off his dick, strings of my spit dripping from his tip. He made me pack up the temporary campsite and we were back on the trail to camp.

My cock throbbed and ached against my horse's saddle, forced to watch Arthur's back—his muscles, his hips pushing his horse along, his ass—it was too much to bear, too much for me to hold it in.

My come stained my pants all down my leg. It was too noticeable to hide, and when we reached camp and he watched me swing off my horse, he snickered and made fun.

"I did that to ya, huh?" His voice sounded like the cigarette he smoked, rough and wispy. "You liked my cock that much, boy?"

I now had another reason to hate Arthur Morgan. That he made me so painfully hard that I came in my pants.

But that wasn't the only time we did anything. It continued for weeks, sneaking into each other's tents, going deep into the woods, having code words for whatever we—he, needed. For so long, I convinced myself that I was teasing him, but I think he's the one being the tease, always leaving me to deal with my hard-on and images of the dirty things we've done.

I want him to finish me off, to watch my cock pulsate and release its spend.

So when Mr. Pearson instructs Arthur and I to get some rabbit meat for the stew tonight, I feel confidence coursing through my veins.

I am going to tell Arthur what I ne—want. What I want.

"Hey." Arthur's voice cuts through my thoughts.

I blinked. "Wha—yeah?"

He nods towards the general direction of the horses. "Come on, the rabbits ain't gonna hunt themselves when yer starin' off into space."

I study him as he walks over to his horse, his back muscles flexing under his fitted shirt as he reached up to rub the mare's nose. I feel my cock harden against my denim. If I come right now, I'm shooting myself.

Here I am again, watching Arthur's strong back as we move from site to site. We've killed one rabbit so far. Those little fuckers are fast, especially when I'm too distracted by Arthur's thick forearms.

It was getting late. The moon replaced the sun, and all the diurnal animals returned to their homes and families. I watched Arthur as he made room from me to the side of him on the trail. I pushed my horse forward.

"I reckon we should call it a night." He rumbles. I could barely see his face in the darkness, but it's burned in my memory that it's impossible to forget.

"Yeah." I suck in my lip, taking a breath. "Where?"

I watch him turn his head to me, slowing down his horse in the process.

If we were to spend the night in the open field, Arthur would be more apt to not start anything. He would keep to himself and sleep on the opposite side of where I would be, without a single word about what we usually get up to on the trail.

I would hate that.

He looks back at the trail. "Not here." His short, vague answer fills my body with relief.

"Somewhere private?"

"Yeah" Arthur agrees with a grunt.

"Why?" I knew why. Arthur knows I know why, but if I want to let Arthur know what I wanted, I have to be more bold.

Maybe even more honest with him...and with myself.

Arthur abruptly stopped his horse and reached over, roughly grabbing my face and pulling me closer to him. His eyes weren't bright blue like they normally were, they were dark—filled with heavy lust and sin.

"Why?" He parroted, his breath hot and smelled of tobacco. "You know damn well why." He growls. "If you don't quit, I"ll just make you take me here in the dirt. Got it, boy?"

God, please! I'll take you anywhere—anywhere you want.

So good for sticking to my guns and telling him what I want.

I shudder, a weak, helpless sound catching in my throat under his harsh grasp. The intensity of his actions, his words, his proximity is apparently too much for me because I feel my dick leak my hot spend down my leg.

Arthur's eyes track my chest at the sudden, sharp hitch in my breath, before dropping down to the fresh, darkening stain on my pants. I squeezed my eyes shut as I feel my cheeks redden and burn up like molten lava.

When I finally open my eyes, I am met with his still dark ones that dance with desire. My eyes dare to flick to his mouth, and I swear I see a small, wicked smirk spread across his lips.

Arthur roughly let go of my face, though I could still feel his fingers digging into my cheeks. "Come on," he mutters, clicking his tongue to his horse as he continues down the dark trail, "let's go."

We arrive in a more secluded area, the woods. It was less ideal, and creepy as all hell, but indulging in fully open public sex wasn't on my radar for tonight. Even though just the thought will make me come again.

I stand there like a fool with stained pants and a very obvious boner, watching Arthur set up camp. I watch how he unrolls the bedrolls and takes the fire wood from my grasp. The way he moves is so hypnotic—I have mentioned how hypnotic he moves, right?

"Hey," Arthur wipes sweat from his brow, "can you get my axe from Boadicea. You suck at chopping wood."

My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. I just stare at the damp hair sticking to his forehead. He says it so casually, like my pants aren't glued to my thigh with my own ruined come, like he didn't just smash with his hand and turn my insides into liquid.

I clear my throat and choke out. "Yeah. Yeah alright."

Turning around is the harder part. The second I pivot toward where our horses are hitched at a nearby tree, the fabric of my pants pulls tight against my hardened cock, the cool night air hitting the wet stains down my leg. I know he's watching me. I can practically feel his eyes burning holes into my back, tracking the stiff, awkward way I have to walk to keep from rubbing against myself and coming again.

Boadicea huffs when I approach, her chest rising and falling in the dark. My hands shake as I reach for the two leather straps of the saddle that is holding Arthur's axe securely in place.

Get. A. Grip. I tell myself, sweat leaking out of my pores just like Arthur. Just get the axe.

I wrap my fingers around the wooden handle of the hand-axe, pulling it free from the loops. I turn back toward the clearing.

Arthur hasn't moved. He's sitting back on his bootheels by the pile of logs, his forearms resting on his knees, a fresh unlit cigarette already dangling from his lips.

The moonlight catches the tilt of his head. He didn't even bother looking away. He's just staring right at the front of my pants, his proud smirk wider now, making me drown in humiliation.

"Take yer time, why don't ya." He rumbles, his voice vibrating right through my body.

"Oh." I say quietly. I clumsily hold the axe and even more clumsily walk towards him. I don't meet his eyes and pretend the ground is the most extraordinary thing I've ever witnessed in my life.

I hear him let out a bark of laughter. "Come on, we don't have all night. You look like a newborn calf tryin' to walk, boy. Move it."

"Here." I hand the axe to Arthur and he swiftly grabs it from my hands. "You're welcome."

Arthur let out a quiet grunt in response and stood up on his feet. He set one of the logs on a nearby tree stump. He lifts the axe high and swung it at the log, splitting it in half with ease. If my jaw could break through the layers of the Earth it would.

Arthur's big, strong biceps tighten each time he brings the axe back up, and his muscles in his forearms tighten each time he swings. My cock has a heartbeat.

"Shit..." I hear him sputter. I watch as sweat travel down his face. Arthur pulls off his shirt, revealing his strong chest and abs. I'm drooling.

He wipes his face with his shirt and tosses it off to the side and continues to slash the wood.

I can't. I fucking can't. I let out a shaky, desperate breath and violently turn away, facing the dark woods just so I don't have to look at him anymore.

"Hey."

My shoulders tense and my eyes widen at his voice. I turn my head, but don't look at him—or his pecs. "What?" I choke out, trying to sound defensive but failing. Miserably.

"Come 'ere."

I freeze, my boots glued to the dirt. I'm too terrified, too humiliated, and too agonizingly hard to move a single inch.

"I said," Arthur's voice drops to a predatory octave, the crush of his boots telling me he's closing the gap, "come 'ere."

Before I can even process the sound, his massive calloused hand wraps firmly around the nape of my neck from behind. He yanks me backward, pulling my spine flush against his big, bare chest. His other hand comes around my front, his fingers gripping my belt loops and forcing me against his own hard ridge.

"You wanna look so bad?" He murmurs against my ear, his breath burning my skin. "Fine. Stand right 'ere. Let me feel how hard you are for me, boy."

Arthur slowly palms my painfully hard cock. My head dips back against his shoulder and my mouth lets out soft, embarrassing whimpers.

Tell him what you want.

Tell him what you need.

My eyes shoot open. I need to listen to myself. My feelings. I grab his hand. "Wait."

Arthur stands still, his hand stopping at my touch. We are both quiet for a moment.

"What?"

I let out a sigh, looking up into the night, starry sky for an answer, or guidance from a God up above.

"Arthur." His name dances on my tongue. It feels good to say his name.

"Yeah? What?"

I turn around in his grip to face him. Standing this close to his bare chest, and the feel of the heat rolling off him makes me dizzy. My eyes glance down at his collarbone, but quickly back up to his rugged face that is being illuminated by the soft blue of the moonlight.

"You're driving me crazy." I breathe, my voice cracking under the truth. "You make me crazy, Arthur."

Arthur's brows knit, but he doesn't speak.

"And..." I bite my lip, holding back...tears? "And I don't want to play these silly games anymore." I let out a shaky breath as I finally let my eye track the curves of his pecs. "You confuse me."

"How?" Arthur finally spoke. His breath is shaky and uneven.

"I...I shouldn't be feeling this. Especially for someone like you."

"Someone like me?" His voice sounded offended, but it was still remarkably soft.

"You're not..." I look away. I feel the tears brim my eyes. Shit I'm gonna cry.

"You're not a woman." I quietly say, but Arthur heard every word.

"I know I ain't."

"No, Arthur." I let out an annoyed sigh and turned back at him. "That's the problem. This isn't normal, an—and what you're doing to me, it isn't right." I look down at my boots and rush past him.

I only manage three steps into the dark before a hand clamps down onto my shoulder, stopping my dead in my tracks. Arthur doesn't spin me around roughly this time. His grip is just solid, immovable, holding me in place against the night air.

"Hey, just stop. Hold on a minute."

I keep my eyes glued to the dark trees, my chest heaving as a tear finally slips down my cheek.

"I ain't never cared much for what's 'right' or 'normal' accordin' to whoever, and neither should you." His large hand slides down from my shoulder to wrap firmly around my upper arm, pulling me back just an inch. "Ain't nobody else but us out 'ere. Now turn around."

"No." My voice was harsh and guff. Just like how his is.

"No?"

I whip around with tears pouring out of my eyes and my face red as a tomato. "Here's the thing about you, Arthur. Everyone respects you, everyone loves you. You do everything exceptional no matter what!"

Arthur scoffs, his brows furrowing. "What?! No!"

"Yes! You're the best man in camp! You could do all the wrong things, but it's okay because you're Arthur. You're Arthur fucking Morgan!" I huff, my chest heaving. "Even if you stood up in camp and fucked me right there, I would be the one who would get the brunt of it. All the jokes, all the clamor. While you, big, bad Arthur Morgan, would just go on with his life. Fucking me, fucking the women at the saloon—"

Arthur shakes his head, entirely taken aback. "That ain't true."

I bite my lip and look into his eyes. "What? That I wouldn't be the butt of a joke, or that you're not a manwhore?"

Arthur flinches like I've struck him. He looks away for a second, rubbing a hand over his face and shaking his head.

"I ain't...I ain't touched a workin' woman since Blackwater, and you damn well know it." His voice is low and gravelly.

He steps closer, his boots heavy in the dirt, until he's standing right in front of me. He reaches out, his calloused thumb gently catching a tear on my cheek and wiping it away.

Arthur continues. "And ain't nobody in that camp is gonna say a goddamn word to you because they know I'd bury 'em if they tried."

I let out another shaky breath and look down at the ground.

"I ain't playin' games with ya, boy. I'm out here with you."

My head shot up, my eyes wide. "Arthur—"

"I just...I don't know what I'm doin', alright? I ain't done this before—with another man, I mean." It's his turn to look away now.

This is a very soft, vulnerable moment, but I can't help but admire him—his strong jaw specifically being pronounced under the moonlight.

"I mean, I ain't completely different." Arthur looks back at me, tears welling up in his eyes. "It's scary, but I wanna...I wanna make you feel good."

"At least...we can be scared together." I offer a small, tentative smile.

Arthur let out a soft laugh. "Yeah. I reckon we can."

Silence falls between us, only the sound of the night and the nocturnal wildlife can be heard, save for the horses softly whinnying.

Arthur closes the final inch of distance. His large, warm hand moves from my arm up to my face, his calloused palm cupping my jaw with a gentleness that leaves me breathless.

He leans down slowly, giving me every opportunity to pull away, before his lips finally meet mine.

The kiss was soft and quiet, and makes my eyelids flutter shut. A desperate whine catches in my throat, and I lean entirely into him, my hands flying up to grip the bare, smooth broadness of his shoulders.

Arthur lets out a low grunt and deepens the kiss, his mouth opening over mine, parting my lips with a sudden hunger. He lifts me up and I wrap my legs around his strong hips, before feeling my back flush against the bark of a nearby tree.

The soft kiss turns desperation, as Arthur's lips travel down my jawline and onto my neck and behind my ear. I let out a low moan and rests my forehead against his shoulder.

I hear his low laugh, his voice like honey. "You like that, don't you?"

"Arthur..." I moan out, now wrapping my arms around his neck.

Arthur takes a break from kissing my neck, and looks straight at me. "Yeah?"

"The bedroll...take me there." I whisper desperately, my hands sliding down his back.

"What do you say?"

"Arthur, please."

"You're so good when you beg." He locks his arm around my waist and guides me from the tree to his unrolled bedroll.

We tumble down onto the thick canvas blankets, the impact knocking the last of the frantic breath from my lungs. Before I can even recover, Arthur's heavy mass is coming down directly over me. He pins my thighs flat to the earth with the sheer weight of his own large, muscular legs, trapping me completely underneath him. Looking up at him from my position, he looks absolutely massive.

"Arthur..." I pant, my hips automatically bucking upward, trying to press my painfully tight, damp pants against him.

"Shh...quiet now, boy." He growls. A slow, wicked smirk pulls at the corner of his lips at the sight of me. He props his big hands on either side of my head, looking down at my flushed, tear-stained face. "Just 'cause yer on yer back doesn't mean yer gonna get me right away."

He reaches down between us, his fingers grazing the front of my pants, squeezing the hard, pulsating length trapped inside. I let out a sharp, choked gasp, my toes curling inside my boots.

"Look at you," Arthur murmurs, his deep voice dropping into a rough register that makes my chest tighten. "Yer leakin' already on yer old mess." He let out a rough chuckle. "A pathetic, leakin' mess. Yer practically dripping all over my blankets, ain't ya?"

"Please, Arthur—"

"Please, Arthur..." He mocked me with a high-pitched tone in his voice. "I told ya to be quiet." He cuts me off, his grip tightening enough to make me whine.

With agonizing slowness, Arthur unbuckles my belt, the leather creaking in the quiet night air. He tugs the buttons of my fly open one by one, deliberate and mocking, before gripping the fabric and pulling my pants and drawers down past my hips and to my ankles, my painfully hard, throbbing cock bobs in the cool midnight air.

"Let's get these off, huh?" Arthur pulls off my boots.

Arthur is much bigger, his large hands making me feel incredibly small and entirely conquered beneath him. He doesn't even touch it yet. He just stares down at it, his eyes darkening until they are almost as black as the night around us.

He hovers his large, calloused palm just an inch above my twitching tip, letting me feel the radiating heat of his skin without actually giving me the relief of contact.

"Look at it twitchin'." He scoffs softly, a low rumble of praise slipping into his tone. "Such a good boy for me. So goddamn hard. You want me to touch it, boy? You want me to make you feel good?"

"Yes!" I sob out, my hands blindly gripping his biceps. "Please, touch me."

Arthur's lips turn into a smirk and whispers darkly. "Not yet. Yer gonna beg a whole lot more before I let you come."

I whine and squirm miserably underneath him, utterly ruined by his weight and his words.

Arthur huffs a low laugh at my squirming, enjoying the absolute power he holds over my body. He brings his calloused palm directly next to my throbbing length, but he doesn't stroke me. Instead, he brings his heavy hand down in a sharp, stinging slap right where the base meets my sensitive head of my cock.

A loud, high-pitched gasp tears from my throat, my hips jerking violently off the blanket as the sharp sting sends a wave of white-hot pleasure straight to my core. My eyes forcibly shut, and my hands grip the blanket below us.

I feel Arthur's forearm pin my abdomen down. "Keep still." He slaps my cock again, lighter this time. "Look at me."

My eyes shoot open and look down. Arthur's eyes flick to mine.

"You like that don't ya?" He chuckles like a villain. "You like bein' handled rough, huh?"

Before I can answer, and without breaking eye contact, he lets a glob of spit slowly fall to his mouth and onto my cock. My eyes roll into the back of my head as I finally feel him giving me a heavy, dragging stroke.

"Please...keep going...faster."

I felt his motions pick up speed, his hand gracefully moving up and down along the base of my cock, then rubbing my the tip in a rushed manner.

"I'm touching' myself...are ya gonna come? Yer gonna be a good boy and come for me?" He panted out, his speed picking up even more.

"S-shit...please...yes God, I'm coming!" I moan out, grabbing onto his wrist for support.

My cock pulsates with my load, with each shot of come. My breath comes out ragged and I open my eyes at my come leaking down my cock like a fountain, and pooling on my stomach.

Arthur grunted as he settled onto his knees. "Let me get this cleaned up."

Arthur lets out a dark, guttural growl as he strokes his massive length with my fresh come. The wet, slapping sound of his palm against his skin fills the quiet night. He looks down at me, his chest heaving, his veins bulging along his forearms as his hands rub and massage.

"look at ya..." He pants as he watches my trembling body. "All used up and leakin', and I ain't even started with ya yet. You think yer done just 'cause you blew yer load?"

Before I can process his words, he reaches down and grabs my hips with a bruising grip. He slides me closer towards him, and roughly hoists my legs up and pins my thighs against my chest. It forces me wide open, completely exposed under his huge frame.

He grabs some more of my come that landed on my stomach, stroking his cock once more. He discards the rest of my fluid, pushing his fingers directly against my tight entrance. I let out a sharp cry as his thick fingers work a glob of my slick come inside me, stretching my slightly with a rough, heavy-handed urgency.

"Yeah...that's it." Arthur growls, his fingers push deeper into me.

"Arthur!" I sob, my hands frantically grasping at his broad shoulders.

"Sh sh sh...I got ya. Just relax for me."He murmurs, his tone shifting into a heavy, intoxicating rumble of praise even as his jaw tightens with dominance. He positions the hot, blunt head of his massive cock right against my opening. "Shit...yer so tight."

I let out a breath and my grip on his shoulders tighten, probably leaving marks, but I don't care.

"Yer gonna take every bit of me, you understand?" Arthur looks up at me, still having a hard grip on his cock.

I nod. "I understand."

Arthur grips my hips with an iron vice and anchors me to the blankets, heavily driving his hips forward. In unison, our moans echo throughout the woodlands.

"Ah, fuck!" I scream, the sound tearing from the very back of my throat as the size of him stretches me past my limit. My back arches completely off the bedroll, my fingers digging desperately into the flesh of his broad shoulders, my nails likely drawing blood as a white-hot heat floods my lower half.

Arthur doesn't pull back. He freezes, his massive frame burying me entirely under his weight, his chest heaving heavily against mine as he pants right into my ear. His own guttural moan is trapped deep in his throat, a low, vibrating rumble that shakes my entire being.

"Don't move...shit, don't move." Arthur groans, his voice wrecked and strained with the effort of holding himself back. His grip on my hips tightens until it feels like it bruises, anchoring me flat against the blankets so I can't try to squirm away from the solid intrusion of him. "Boy...yer wrappin' around me like a vice....breathe. Just breathe for me."

Tears how and fast finally spill from he corners of my eyes, blurring the sight of his rugged face illuminated in the blue moonlight above me. Every single muscle in my body is trembling, my thighs shaking violently where he has them pinned against my ribs.

"Arthur, please." I sob out, my voice cracking, a pathetic, ruined sound in the quiet of the woods. "It's too mu—you're too big—"

"Shh, I know. I know—a—ah, fuck." He growls, his jaw locking so tight I thought he was going to break it. He slowly lowers his head, during his face in the crook of my neck, his hot breath burning my skin as he gives a tentative, heavy twitch of his hips.

A choked, breathy whine escapes my lips at the subtle movement, my hips involuntarily tilting upward to swallow that tiny bit more of him.

Arthur lets out a ragged chuckle against my skin. "Look at ya...cryin' and begging'...but yer takin' it so well, boy. Takin' every goddamn inch of me, like a good boy." He lifts his head back up, his eyes burning down into mine with hunger. "You like bein' filled up by me, don't ya? Bein' filled up by my cock?"

"Yes! I love it..." I choke out, the confession tearing from me entirely unprompted, stripped of all my pride.

Arthur's eyes flare at the admission, a look of pure satisfaction washing over his rugged features. Hearing me say it, hearing me crave the exact thing that terrified me moments ago, completely breaks whatever restraint he has left.

"Good." He growls. "Then let's see how much of it you can handle."

With a slow, mercilessly tilt of his pelvis, Arthur begins to move. He pulls back an inch before driving all the way again, the friction of his shaft sliding against my walls, slicked entirely with my own come.

A loud wail leaves my lips, my hands clawing at his back as the steady deliberate rhythm starts. He stays deep, each hot thrust bottoming out against me, making my entire Fram shift against the canvas blankets.

"Look at ya." Arthur pants, his face hovering just inches from mine. His blue eyes are locked onto mine, forcing me to bear the full weight of his gaze. "Look at me while I do this to ya. Don't you dare close yer eyes."

I try to keep my gaze fixed on him, but the pleasure is too intense. My head thrashes from side to side against the bedroll, a string of incoherent whines and fragmented pleas spilling from my mouth.

Arthur chuckles, the sound dark and entirely dominant. He shifts one of his hands from my hip, bringing it up to cup the front of my throat, pinning my head still against the bedding. His thumb presses firmly into the line of my jaw, forcing my face back toward him.

"I told ya to look at me, boy." He rumbles, delivering a harder, deeper thrust that hits a spot so deep my vision goes blurry. "Yeah... right there. Look at how wide open you are for me."

"Arthur... Arthur, please!" I sob, my hips completely betrayed by my own body as they tilt upward, desperately seeking the very friction that's tearing me apart.

"You're a good boy." He praises, his tone singsongy like and turns my brain to mush. He picks up the pace, his thrusts losing their caution and becoming heavy, rhythmic, and demanding. The wet, slapping sound of his hips hitting mine echoes in the night.

The friction is building, the heat pooling in my lower stomach until it feels like a fever. My soft, sensitive length is starting to twitch and ache again, rubbing uselessly against my own belly with every heavy stroke Arthur takes.

Arthur notices, his eyes flicking down to my come-covered growing erection before looking right back into my blown-out pupils. A knowing smirk pulls at his mouth.

"What's this?" He pants, his speed picking up, driving into me with a relentless, bruising force. "Already getting hard again just from taking my cock? You really are a filthy little thing, ain't ya?"

"Mhm...I'm such a filthy boy—you're filthy boy." I whimper. I am completely at his mercy, unraveled under his massive frame.

"Fuckin' pathetic." Arthur growls, though the sheer heat in his voice turns the insult into the most devastating form of praise. "Can't even hold yourself together. Just a little hole for me to use while you get hard in your own mess."

"Arthur—ah! I'm gonna—I'm gonna come again!" I scream into the dark, my hips bucking wildly against his. The heat in my stomach is a full-blown fire now, the friction pushing me right back over the edge.

"Ah, ah. No coming." Arthur barks, his voice sharp and commanding.

He releases my throat and shifts his large hand down between our bodies. His thick, calloused fingers wrap around the very base of my throbbing, overstimulated length, his thumb clamping down brutally hard over the leaking tip to squeeze it shut.

"Ah! Please, Arthur, let me!" I sob, my eyes flying open, tears spilling over my temples. My hips twist and writhe, trying to break his grip, but he is completely immovable.

Arthur pants, his chest heaving, sweat dripping from his jawline onto my collarbone. He doesn't slow down his thrusts for a single second. If anything, he hits me harder, using my frustration to fuel his own desire. "Yer gonna ride this wave until I'm ready to dump my load inside ya."

I let out a broken, high-pitched wail, completely overwhelmed by the dual sensations of him hammering deep into my tight walls while holding my cock in a vice grip.

"Look at me." Arthur commands again, his own release creeping up on him. His jaw is locked, the veins in his neck bulging as he drives himself into me with a sudden, desperate speed. "Look at me, boy. I'm close. I'm real goddamn close."

I force my eyes to lock onto his blue ones, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

"Arthur..." I whimper, my fingers digging into his biceps.

"Yeah... right there. Come for me. Come like my good boy that you are." He groans as he removes his hand from my cock's head. A dark and guttural sound tears from his throat as he delivers three more massive, bruising thrusts. His entire body tenses up before he buries himself as deep as he can go. He holds himself flush against me. "Ah, shit..."

With a heavy, trembling shudder, Arthur lets out a low roar into the night air, his hips locking tight against mine as he finally blows his massive load deep inside me, filling my tight, stretched opening with his hot, thick release.

At the exact same moment his hand leaves my tip, the sudden release of pressure causes my own cock to erupt violently. I scream his name into the midnight air, my body completely locking up as I blow my second load all over my stomach and chest, the waves of my orgasm overlapping with the pulsing heat of his come filling me up inside.

Arthur collapses heavily onto my chest, his broad, sweaty frame flattening me completely into the canvas blankets. His chest heaves violently against mine, his forehead buried right in the crook of my neck.

The quiet of the woods slowly rushes back in, save for our ragged, echoing gasps and the soft, distant rustle of the horses.

Neither of us moves for a long, peaceful moment. The sheer weight of him is like a heavy blanket keeping the cold night air from touching my skin. Slowly, Arthur lets out a long, trembling exhale against my collarbone, the tight tension completely leaving his large shoulders.

"Boy..." He breathes out in a whisper.

He slowly shifts his weight, propping himself up on one forearm to look down at me. His messy hair is falling into his face, his blue eyes soft and entirely vulnerable in the moonlight. He reaches up with a shaky, calloused hand, gently using his thumb to wipe away the dried tears on my cheeks.

"You alright?" he asks softly, his tone completely lacking its earlier bite, filled instead with tenderness. "I didn't... I didn't hurt ya, did I?"

"N-no." I breathe. "No you didn't."

Arthur watched my chest heave rhythmically with his. "I bet yer gonna be sore."

"Well, yeah." I let out a small laugh, but it came out more like a sigh.

"And it's gonna hurt...when I pull out." He murmurs, his thumb tracing a slow, comforting circle against my cheekbone.

"Just...get it over with," I brace myself.

Arthur grips my hip gently to steady me and slowly begins to slide out of me. A sharp, heavy ache flowers through my lower half as he leaves my body, a low whine catching in my throat until he frees himself completely. I let out a long, shuddering breath, sinking deep into the canvas blankets.

Arthur shifts his frame onto his side, settling right next to me on the bedroll. He reaches down and yanks the heavy wool edge of the blanket up and over both of our cooling, spent bodies, sealing out the midnight chill.

Before I can even process the relief of the warmth, his thick arm comes around my waist, pulling me backward until my spine is flush against his chest. His chin rests gently on my shoulder, his steady, heavy heartbeat thumping rhythmically against my shoulder blades.

"You best go to sleep." Arthur rumbles softly into my neck.

"Arthur?"

I hear Arthur softly hum in response.

"After this, are we just going to go back to camp like everything is normal?"

"What you mean?"

I sigh, flipping around to face him. "I mean...what are we?"

In the faint glow of the moonlight, I see his lips turn into a slow, genuine smile. "I'll be whatever you want me to be, boy."

Wednesday, June 28th, 1899 I keep thinking about Y/N. Everything about her is so…what’s the word. Addicting, maybe? I wanna need to know more about her, even the ugly parts. When she told me about her arranged marriage, I felt my blood burn in my veins. I’ve never been so angry. Who would willingly pawn off their child? There’s more to it; there’s more to her.   I’m noticing that she’s on my mind all the time. When I’m doing chores around camp—Y/N. When I’m on the trails with Boadicea—Y/N. Even when I’m sleeping, she’s in my dreams. I feel like a young boy all over again. I wake up, drenched in sweat and my blanket a…mess. I am a grown man. I shouldn’t be having these, mishaps. I stare. It’s rude, I know. I feel my cheeks ignite whenever she does, well, anything. I even fantasize about her. Like, what it would be like if we had met earlier, before Mary. Before Eliza. Would we be married? Have children? Would she be different? Would I be different? Anyway, the other day, Trelawny introduced me to his friend, Alden. He mainly works at the train station in Rhodes, but he also hands out information on passing stagecoaches. Perfect for building up my funds. Trelawny and I robbed one together, and then I robbed another when he left.   Ring fund: $100 / $460

“Arthur!”

Dutch’s arms were spread wide in an open embrace as his honey soaked voice rang through Arthur’s ears.

“Dutch.” Arthur’s voice was gruff, and didn’t match the small smile spreading onto his face. He looked up from his spot, criss-crossed and leaned up against a tree.

“Writin’ again, are we?” Dutch rested his hands on his hips, jutting one of his legs out in a casual manner, leaning against the bark.

“Always. Let’s me collect my thoughts.” Arthur quickly tucked away his journal. “What do ya need?”

“Arthur,” Dutch’s face turned to one of hurt, “you think I would come over to my most reliable man, my son, only when I’m in need?”

Arthur thought for a moment, his eyes shifting around for an answer before looking back at Dutch. “Well…”

A smile spread across Dutch’s lips. “Son, you do so much work around here, keepin’ us safe and all.”

“A lot of people keep us safe, not just me.”

"I know that.” Dutch sighed. “You’re a hard worker, but…I’ve noticed you haven’t been donatin’ all that hard work to the people you keep safe.”

Arthur’s brows furrowed. He let out a scoff. “Yer kiddin’ me?”

Dutch put his hands up in surrender. “We need all the money we can get. If you want, I can take your money and put it in the box for you.”

Arthur raggedly huffed and dug into his satchel. Well that goes twenty from the fund. “I got it.”

"Good son, good.” Dutch sauntered away to his tent, probably to read some Evelyn Miller.

Arthur shook his head as he stood up from his comfortable position. He felt his bones ache and softly crack as he rose. I’m gettin’ old. 

"Hey, Arthur.” With a cigarette between your index and middle finger, you planted yourself right in front of him.

"Hi, yer doin’ alright?” His voice dripped with genuine concern. You handed him your cigarette and he took it without hesitation and took a drag.

You shrugged. You watched as his lips curled around the tip as he inhaled the sweet tobacco. Then, you realized this was probably so odd that you were staring right at his mouth, and ignoring his question altogether. “I’m fine.”

Arthur turned his head and blew the smoke out, careful not to blow it right into your face. He passed the cigarette back to you. “Yeah? Yer, uh, monthly. It’s alright?”

You smiled so wide you felt as though your cheeks were about to pop off. He really cares about this stuff, huh? “Oh, yeah. It’s all done, so…”

"Oh, well…”

"Yeah.”

There was silence for a moment, the two of you not knowing where to look, but the ground did seem to be interesting enough.

You let out a heavy sigh. “So, uh, do you have any plans today?”

"Why? You want me to pick yer brain again?” Arthur tilted his head playfully.

"If you were going to pick any brain, I would want it to be mine.”

Whoa, that was bold.

Arthur let out a small, breathless laugh and looked down at the ground once more. The heavy brim of his hat shielded his face, but you could still see his wide, unstoppable smile.

Sure it was bold, but he sure as hell liked it. 

From across the camp, Tilly and Mary-Beth were sitting by their bedrolls. They were attending to their chores, but why would they do that when one of Mary-Beth’s romance novels was playing out live?

“Look he’s laughin’!” Mary-Beth let out a giggle as she kicked her legs happily.

Tilly shushed her. “They’ll hear you.”

“They’re all the way over there, I reckon they won’t hear.”

They watched as Arthur looked back up at you, a pink flush to his cheeks as he leaned against the tree.

"He’s red! Tilly, he’s all red!” Mary-Beth sat up straighter. “Oh, now she’s laughin’! This is too good!”

Tilly rolled her eyes, but she was wearing a small smile. She looked down and continued with washing clothes. “Mary-Beth, you should really do your chores, if Grimshaw—”

Mary-Beth gasped. “Tilly! He stepped closer to her! Are they gonna kiss? Oh, Tilly, they’re gonna kiss!”

Tilly’s eyes shot up from the washing board. “Oh my, they might…Mary-Beth, they might!”

“Arthur!”

Mary-Beth and Tilly groaned as Dutch’s booming voice cut through the air. He walked right towards the two of you. From across the clearing, the girls watched as you and Arthur quickly stepped back from each other, looking over at Dutch.

“Ugh, really Dutch?!” Mary-Beth groaned. “Couldn’t you see what was happening?!”

Tilly shook her head, then looking back down at the washing board in front of her. “Even if they were gonna kiss, it wasn’t gonna happen in the middle of camp, especially during the day.” She looked to Mary-Beth, spotting her disappointed expression on her face. “Dutch is a sad, angry man, Mary-Beth. As long as him and Molly ain’t doin’ good, then nobody ain’t doin’ good.”

“We need to help them.”

Tilly whipped her head toward Mary-Beth. “Help Dutch and Molly? That’s not gonna happen.”

Mary-Beth huffed. “No. Arthur and Y/N. We need to help them get together!”

“And how are we gonna do that? We can’t force them.”

“Force who?” Sean suddenly popped up from behind a nearby tent, holding a half-empty bottle and grinning like a madman. “Are we forcing someone to do something?”

Tilly rolled her eyes and brushed Sean away. “Go away, Sean. It’s none of your business.”

“Oh, come on, ladies, don’t be like that,” Sean chuckled and looked across the clearing. His eyes locked onto Arthur and Y/N, who were currently slowly stepping away from an annoyed-looking Dutch. “Ah. I see. It’s the lovebirds, is it?”

Mary-Beth’s eyes went wide. “Sean! Keep your voice down!” She said in a quiet hush.

"Oh, please. The whole camp knows Arthur’s completely sweet on her.” Sean scoffed, taking a swig from his bottle. “Tell ya what, for five dollars, I’ll go over there, pretend to trip, and knock ‘em right into each other’s arms.”

Tilly grabbed a wet towel and slapped it hard against Sean’s shin, making him let out a high-pitched yelp. “You do that, Sean, and I bet Arthur will shoot you. Sit down and shut the hell up!”

Sean hurried and sat down taking another swig of his drink. “I can’t blame Arthur, Y/N’s beau—ow!” Karen slapped the back of Sean’s neck with a wet towel of her own, and continued to walk by.

Tilly and Mary-Beth try hard to hold in their laughs, but it’s useless. Soft giggles erupt from them.

"That’s what you get.” Tilly chuckled.

 Sean grumbled. “Shut up.” He rubbed his neck, the sting spreading along his shoulders.

Across the camp, the target of their gossip was currently enduring a lecture. Dutch paced between them as he droned on about “faith” and “loyalty”.

Because Dutch was entirely lost in his own words, he didn’t notice what the “lovebirds” in front of him were doing.

Arthur caught your eyes from under the brim of his hat. He let out a tiny puff of exhaustion through his nose. You bit the inside of your cheek, a silent laugh bubbling up in your throat as you subtly shifted your boot to tap against his boot under the grass. Arthur’s eyes brightened at the touch, a heavy flush creeping back onto his neck, but he didn’t move his foot away.

Tilly let out a sigh. “Mary-Beth, Sean, look at that. We don’t need to do a damn thing.”

Dutch strutted away, and the two of you looked up at each other.

“Finally, Dutch shut his mouth.” Mary-Beth’s eyes were still trained on Arthur and Y/N.

“Probably something like, ‘Arthur, son…’” Sean started, with a horrible Dutch impression, but was cut-off by his own laughter.

“Shush Sean!” Tilly and Mary-Beth hushed Sean. He huffed and crossed his arms.

Mary-Beth groaned. “Here comes Micah.”

“Aw, dammit.” Sean said, but quieter this time.

Micah sauntered past the tree and stopped right in front of Y/N, tipping his hat with a greasy grin that made Tilly, Sean, and Mary-Beth instantly sneer.

“I haven’t heard from him in a while.” Tilly observed. “Well, ever since Y/N punched the ever-living shit out of him.”

“Me too. I wonder if his voice is different.” Mary-Beth added. The three laughed softly and watched.

“Well look at you, pretty lady,” Micah’s voice carried over the breeze. “I forgive you, really. Are we alright?”

The group couldn’t hear what you said in a reply, but you and Arthur had your arms crossed and your body language was screaming “don’t bother us”.

 "Spending all your daylight hours with old Morgan here, I see.” Micah’s voice rasps. “You’re wasting your time.”

Arthur’s entire posture shifted in a fraction of a second. His broad shoulders squared, his jaw tightened into stone. He didn’t say a word, and he stepped directly between Micah and Y/N, his frame blocking her from Micah’s view.

Mary-Beth gripped Tilly’s arm tightly. “Oh, look at that!” She whispered, her hopeless romantic heart soaring.

"Step back, Micah.” Arthur’s voice was low, a gravelly vibration that promised violence if Micah took even a half-step closer.

Micah’s eyes glared into the stone-cold expression on his face. He raised his hands in a mock gesture of surrender, his smile never faltering. “Just makin’ conversation, Morgan. No need to get you feathers ruffled.” You stepped out from behind Arthur, so Micah knew you weren’t hiding, and stared daggers into Micah.  

Micah’s smile soured into a sneer, his eyes flashing a spark of anger, but he knew better than to challenge the both of you. “Suit yourself.” He muttered, tipping his hat mockingly. “Have fun playin’ house.” He turned on his heel and sauntered off toward the campfire, spitting into the dirt.

Arthur didn’t relax until Micah was completely out of earshot. He let out a heavy breath. He turned back to you, his eyes scanning your face with that familiar, intense concern. “You alright?”

You nod and gave him a small smile. “I’m fine.” Though your heart was thumping out of your rib cage. “Just sick of looking at him.”

Arthur laughed and nodded, adjusting his hat as the flush began to creep back into his cheeks, replacing the deadly pale look he had just worn. He cleared his throat, glancing toward the hitching post.” Come on. Let’s get out of here for a bit. Boadicea’s been cooped up, and I reckon you could get away from here.”

Your smile grew, the tension completely melting out of your shoulders. “I’d love that.”

Half an hour later, the stifling atmosphere of Clemens Point was miles behind you. The only sounds were the steady rhythmic clopping of horseshoes against the dirt trail and the gentle rustle of the trees bordering the flatlands.

Arthur rode closer to you, his eyes constantly scanning the tree line, still acting as your unspoken shield.

"Dutch was giving you a hard time earlier, wasn’t he?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Arthur let out a rough huff, shaking his head. “Ah, Dutch is just…caught me with a little extra cash on me and thought its place was in the camp box. Gave ‘em twenty.

You sighed. “I’m sorry, Arthur. You work harder than anyone in that camp…hell you work harder than anyone I’ve known. You should be able to keep what you earn.”

Arthur went quiet for a moment, guiding Boadicea over a small ridge. When the trail flattened out again, he looked over at you, a soft, incredibly genuine expression in his eyes.

“Don’t you worry about it.” He said softly, his voice warm and dropping into a gently register he only ever used with you. “Trelawny and I ran into some good luck with a couple of stagecoaches the other day. Even after Dutch took his piece…I still managed to put a solid eighty dollars aside.”

You blinked, surprised. “Eighty dollars? Arthur, what are you saving up for?”

Arthur quickly looked back at the traile ahead, a bashful smile tugging at the corners of his lips as his ears turned a slight pink. He subconscously patted his satchel at his hip, where his journal, and his secretly fund count, rested safely.

"Just…for emergencies…or somethin’…” he murmured, his voice thick with a tenderness he couldn’t hide. “Just…want to make sure that when the time comes, I can take care of the things that actually matter.”

You let him ride ahead, a flutter rising in your chest.

It was a beautiful morning. The birds were singing, the sun was shining, and my head felt like a hundred pounds. I didn't get a wink of sleep. I kept on thinking about that sweet kiss she gave me. I know that sounds silly, having my head all tangled up just by a little old kiss, but I haven't been kissed proper in a while. Especially by a pretty lady, no less.

But why did she kiss me? That was the thought that swam through my head all night. She played me like a fiddle last night, and I need to know the truth.

I begrudgingly sauntered out of my tent, the sun making my head pound something vicious as I squint at the bright rays.

It's only seven, why is it so goddamn bright?!

I groan, rubbing my temples and fetched some of the coffee that was still brewing in the percolator. The warmness of the beverage spread across my metal cup, reaching my fingers on the handle. It was still surprisingly hot for being made an hour ago. I lifted up my cup to my chin just before I was interrupted.

"Uncle Arthur!" A little voice called out.

I looked down to see Jack and Daisy, who was wearing the skirt you were sewing just last night, standing right in front of me.

I laughed softly, my voice still gruff from my slumber. "Well hello you two. Whatcha got goin' on?"

"Mama said she'd take me and Daisy into town today!" Jack bounced up and down with excitement.

Daisy bobbed her head so hard her hair flopped around. "Yeah!" Her tiny finger pointed across camp. "Mama's coming too!"

I looked to where Daisy's chubby finger directed me. You were sat on the log by the fire, talking with Abigail. The same log you were sitting on sewing the skirt Daisy is wearing just now, and the same log we were sitting on when you kissed me.

The scene replays in my head like it's my favorite motion picture. Or a really good part of a book. I can imagine it vividly, your soft hands on my rough, scarred up face. Your sweet lips on mine. It was addicting, and I craved it more and more, making my chest ache with each thought of the sensation.

I turned back to the kids and placed my cup down on the ground. I knelt to the children's level, a bright, warm smile etched onto my face. "I love to hear that. You better not have too much fun without me!"

Jack gasped loud and dramatically. "I'll ask mama if you could come!"

Daisy bounced, her feet barely leaving the ground. "Yeah!" She clapped enthusiastically.

"Oh, I wouldn't want to bother you guys on yer trip." I chuckled softly. I didn't know if I wanted to avoid you or spending every waking second with you.

"I'll go ask!" Jack ran off toward Abigail. I could still hear him giggling as he sprinted away.

Daisy watched him run away, but then looked up at me. "Arthur?"

I loved the way Daisy's little voice said my name. "What hon?"

She lifted her chubby little arms up in the air toward me. "Up?" Her little voice asked, but I knew damn well it was a soft demand.

I didn't even hesitate. I've done this so many times that it felt natural. I scooped her up and stood up from my kneeled position. She felt like nothing compared to the hay bales around camp or the carcasses I was used to slinging over my shoulder. She immediately wrapped one arm around my neck, her small fingers wrapping around the collar of my shirt, while her other hand pointed at her skirt.

"Look! Mama fixed it!" she beamed.

"Well look at that, Miss Daisy," I chuckled, adjusting her in my arms slightly, "yer mama did a real good job there."

I looked over right across the camp to you. You'd stopped talking to Abigail and looking right at me. You had a soft, smile playing on your lips as you watched your daughter nestle against my chest. I felt my heart do a flip, a dangerous little flip, and I felt as if a fire was on my face.

I quickly tried to look away, to focus on the dirt that splayed the ground, my abandoned coffee cup, the pile of horse shit by the posts, anything. But my eyes couldn't ignore how your smile grew just a fraction wider when you saw how hard I was trying to play it cool. Way to go, Arthur.

"Arthur! Arthur!" Jack's voice broke my thoughts as he came skittering back across the grass, dodging Pearson as he was picking up the percolator, and skidded to a halt right at my boots. You and Abigail were walking a few paces behind him, a knowing look on her face that made me want to pull my hat down over my whole body if it was possible.

"Mama said yes! And Daisy's mama said yes too!" Jack cheered, pulling the leg of my pants. "So are you coming?"

"Is that so?" I managed to rumble, my voice sounding a little choked. I cleared my throat, shifting Daisy a little higher on my hip to give my hands at least something to do.

By then, you and Abigail had reached us. The scent of the morning campfire followed you both, but as you stepped closer, all I could focus on was the faint scent of that perfume you wear. My mind threatened to trip right back into the memory of last night, but I forced my brain to stay in the present. In reality.

"Mornin' Arthur." Abigail greeted. She looked at Daisy laying her head against my chest, then looked at you, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth before turning her attention back to me. Jack says you were worried about botherin' us. Since when do you care about bein' a bother?"

I shrugged trying to muster a believable excuse rather than, "'Cause I'm confused, and my heart hurts, and my head is still throbbing, and I'm tired, and I can't stop thinking about that damn kiss and I don't think I ever will."

"I just...figured you ladies wanted some peace and quiet away from he camp." I mumbled more cowardly than I wanted it to come off as.

You let out a soft laugh. "Arthur, we're bringing two toddlers. Do you think we are going to get some peace and quiet?"

I let out a defeated grunt mixed with a small chuckle. "Yeah, well...guess I didn't think that one through."

"Clearly." you stepped in, reaching out to smooth down a stray lock of Daisy's hair. your fingers brushed against my collarbone for a split second, and I swear I felt my heart stop beating. "Besides, we could use a big, strong cowboy to help carry things. Maybe keep the kids in line."

Daisy clapped her hands and bounced in my arms. "Yeah! Big cowboy!"

"See? It's unanimous." you tilted your head up to look at me from under the brim of my hat. Those eyes were just as sharp as they were last night, dancing with that same playfulness that had turned me inside out. "Unless, of course you're too busy 'scouting'". your fingers air quote.

Abigail let out a sudden, muffled cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, but I chose not to meddle.

I swallowed hard, finally looking directly down into your face. "I ain't too busy. I'll get the wagon all ready."

"Yay!" Daisy cheesed as I passed her to you.

I hitched the horses to the wagon, making sure everything is tight and ready to carry all five of us. It's a big load, but I know that these horses are strong and capable.

"Are y'all ready?" I yelled out. The kids bounced and danced in joy.

"Yeah!" Jack and Daisy exclaimed in unison. I lifted both the kids up in the wagon as Abigail was climbing up herself, making sure Jack and Daisy were all situated.

"Wait, Miss..." Ms. Grimshaw ran toward you, right before you stepped up onto the wagon. "A letter came in for you." Ms. Grimshaw handed you the envelope. It wasn't uncommon for you to receive mail. You usually got letters from old friends, or from your parents asking about you and Daisy.

I remember you telling me you had a rough relationship with them, even not telling them about what happened with your husband. So, you either don't respond, or respond to them with vague to no answers about your marriage.

I see your brows scrunch up in confusion as you ripped open the envelope. Your eyes scanned the writing on the paper, and with each sentence I see your brow raise—now your expression turning into one of fear. Of sickness.

"Hey, you alright?" I asked, making you jump slightly and whip your head toward me.

"Fine." You slipped the letter into your pocket in your skirt. "Just fine." You gave me a small reassuring smile, but I knew that smile. I knew it because I do the same thing when something is not "just fine".

I helped you up the wagon and settled right next to you. "We all good to go?"

"Yes!" The kids cheered, their hands up in the air.

I let out a loud laugh at their excitement. "Alright then." I snapped the reins against the horses to command them to go, and began to drive us into town.

"I'm gonna get candy!" Jack was running every which way in the general store in Valentine.

"Gonna get candy!" Daisy parroted.

"Jack, don't run." Abigail scolded Jack and lightly grabbed his shoulder.

I noticed the blank expression on your face. It was weird to figure out what you're thinking about right now, but if I had to guess, whatever was in that letter dampened your mood.

Then, I saw a tear form in your eye and travel down your cheek. You quickly wipe it away and sniffle softly. Now I need to know what the hell was in that letter.

"I'm gonna step out for a second." I heard you say to Abigail before you walked out the door of the store. My gaze followed you and before I could even think, my feet guided me outside right after you.

The bell above the general store door gave a sharp little jingle as I stepped out onto the wooden porch. The Valentine mud was already churning up from the morning wagons, and the air smelled of wet earth and horse manure, but the moment I spotted you leaning against the store's hitching post, the rest of the town faded into mere background noise.

You had your back half-turned to me, your shoulders trembling just a fraction under your knitted shawl. You were trying too goddamn hard to swallow down your tears, your knuckles white where you were gripping the wooden rail.

I cleared my throat to let you know I was near before speaking. "Hey." I rumbled softly, stepping up beside you. I kept my distance by a foot or two, resting my own hands on another post. "Hey. Look at me."

You wiped at your face again, a hasty, frustrated gesture, before you finally turned your head. Your eyes were rimmed with red, and seeing you look that fragile made a hard, heavy knot form right in the center of my chest.

"I'm fine, Arthur." you sniffled, your voice cracking.

"Don't do that." I said, my voice low, but not threatening or rough. I leaned in a bit closer, blocking you from the folks walking down the main street. "Don't give me that 'fine' nonsense."

You let out a shaky breath, your gaze dropping down to your muddy boots. Your hand instinctively went to the pocket of your skirt, your fingers brushing against the crumpled envelope.

"Is it yer folks?" I asked quietly. "They ask about...him? Did they track you down?"

You shook your head. You pulled the letter out, the paper already damp from your hands, and handed it over to me without a word.

I unfolded the page. My eyes scanned the messy handwriting, and as I read the words, the blood in my veins felt like it turned straight to ice.

It was from your ex husband, and boy he was mad. Threats were thrown around all willy-nilly, words were strewn together that only made it seem that he was fuming when writing this. He demanded to see Daisy, his "own blood" as he called her. He called you names. Awful names. My hands shook the more I consumed what was on the page.

I folded the paper up, slow and deliberate, and slid it into my own vest pocket. Then, I stepped right into your space. I didn't care who was watching from the street. I reached out, my calloused hands cradling your face, my thumb wiping away a fresh tear before it could fall.

"Listen to me," I growled, looking straight into your eyes so you could see I meant every word that came out of my mouth. "He...he ain't touchin' her. Ain't gettin' anywhere near you. You hear me?"

Your lower lip trembled, your hand coming up to rest over mine where it held your cheek. "Arthur, if he finds out where the camp is—"

"Let him try." I interrupted, my voice as steady as iron. "I'll deal with him. You and Daisy are with me. I'll put a bullet in his goddamn head before he ever takes a step toward you or yer little girl. Understand?"

You stared up at me, your eyes searching mine, looking for any hint of doubt. But there wasn't any. I mean every syllable. I'd happily burn the whole state of New Hanover to the ground before I let that bastard even glance at you or Daisy.

Slowly, the terror in your eyes began to ease, replaced by a quiet relief. You let out a long, shaky breath against my palm. "Okay." You whispered, your voice small, but steadier than before. "Okay, Arthur. I understand."

"Good." I rumbled, giving your cheek a gentle caress, before reluctantly let my hands drop back to my sides. The sudden lack of contact made my skin feel cold, but I forced myself to step back an inch to give you some room to breathe as you wiped the last of the moisture from your eyes. "Now, fix yer face, Abigail's gonna wonder what's takin' us so long."

A tiny, breathless laugh escaped you, one of the most beautiful symphonies I've heard. "Since when do you care about what Abigail—you know what no—since when do you care about what anyone thinks?"

"Just since...well..." I rubbed my neck and looked down at my boots. I can feel my cheeks start to get feverishly hot, yet again.

You smoothed down your shawl, taking a deep breath to settle yourself, and gave me a smile, but it wasn't fake this time. It was real. Soft, grateful, and entirely aimed at me, and me only.

"Thank you, Arthur." you said softly.

I just nodded, not trusting my voice not to choke up, and turned to push the general store door open for you. The little bell jingled above us, plugging us right back into the loud reality of parenthood.

"Look, Mama!" Jack's voice boomed from the back aisle the second we stepped inside. He was holding up a peppermint like it was a trophy to Abigail. "Can I get it? Please?"

Abigail shrugged and smiled. "It's your money ain't it?"

"Oh, yeah!" Jack ran up to you and I. "Uncle Arthur, look!" He held up two quarters. "Mr. Pearson gave me these quarters before we left. I can buy me and Daisy something!"

Arthur smiled, despite the heavy conversation that happened outside. "Look at that! Pretty nice Jack. Do you know how much two quarters are?"

Jack placed a hand to his chin, trying to dig the answer out of his brain. "Fifty?"

"That's right. Yer a pretty smart cookie, huh?"

Jack flashed me a proud smile. "Hosea taught me."

"Fifty!" Daisy parroted, handing a chocolate bar to you.

You took it and smiled. "Thank you sweetheart." You held onto it as you watched Daisy stumble away.

"Candy!" Daisy cheered, grabbing another chocolate bar, now handing it to me, pointing it at my vest pocket, right where that threatening letter was currently burning a hole against my ribs.

I smiled and took the chocolate from Daisy, then glanced back at you. The worry was still there, of course it was. It lingered deep in the shadows of your eyes, but the paralyzing fear you felt outside was gone. You knew you weren't carrying the weight of the world on your own.

I caught your eye and gave you a slow, reassuring nod.

"Let him come." I thought as I grabbed the chocolate bar out of your hands and placed them on the counter to pay. "Yer ex should be careful. I'm right here."

Sunday, June 25th, 1899 I’m not a smart man, but I’m not dolt either. I know women bleed every month, hell I think every grown man knows that. Right? Why are women ashamed of it? Maybe I’ll ask Y/N. At a different time, of course.  I had a good time at the march with Y/N. All the women’s passion, including hers, was powerful to watch. I’m not one to vote, but it makes me kinda hot for voting rights.  Strauss had given me a job to reclaim some debt. A man named Thomas Downes. I hate this loan crap, but I do get a decent cut from helping out. All for Y/N’s ring.  Speaking of which, I found $10 in my pocket.  Ring fund: $10 / $460

“Hey, Arthur.” Your voice rang through the air, strolling up to Arthur, who is sitting up against a tree. 

Arthur quickly shoved his journal into his satchel. “Hey, Y/N. How’s yer…uh…”

You sighed and sat beside him.  “It’s fine. I’m fine. Well…it’s a son of a bitch.” 

Arthur let out a quick laugh. “Yeah, I bet. You women are strong. I can’t even imagine goin’ through that.”

You shrugged and looked out at everyone in camp. Some people were eating, others were tending to their daily chores. Arthur glanced over at you, tracing your face with his eyes. 

Arthur opened his mouth to talk, but heistated. He wanted to spend the day with you, learn more about the girl he has growing feelings for, but he didn’t want to come off too excited or weird you out. 

While he was in his thoughts, you had turned your head back to him. “You look like you wanna say something.” 

How did you know?

Arthur cleared his throat. “Maybe I do.”

“Then say it.” A small smile grew on his face. This made Arthur’s chest swell and his nerves subside. 

“Have any plans today?” Arthur’s gruff voice was unusally small and timid.

“No. The girls all have chores to do.”

“And you don’t?”

You sighed. “Well, I do, but—”

Arthur laughed. “You’d rather spend it with me, right?”

“Of course, Arthur.” 

Arthur smiled so wide it hurt his cheeks. “Great! I’ll get Boadicea all ready, you get H/N, and let’s go!” He lept up to his feet in a flash.

You giggled and followed his lead. “Woah! Someone’s excited!” 

“When it’s spending time with yo—a friend, and not spending time in camp till I die, then I’m in.”

You caught his slip-up, but chose not to meddle him. You just wanted to enjoy this time out, nothing crazy happening, with Arthur. A nice, relaxing day. With a handsome man no less. 

Arthur already slung his saddle onto Boadicea and giving her a good brush, making her all pretty for this escapade. You did the same with H/N, patting his neck affectionately. 

“I also wanted to thank you for that chocolate bar. I haven’t had chocolate in a long time.”

Arthur’s attention moved from Boadicea’s mane to your face, which was still looking at H/N. “Why is that?”

You stroked H/N’s his long and flowly mane. “Just haven’t had the means to get it, ya know.” You looked to Arthur. “I would’ve rather spent my money on food instead of treats.”

“I stole it.” Arthur said in a deadpan manner. “You think I bought chocolate?”

You barked out a laugh. “You stole some poor sap’s chocolate!”

“And I’ll do it again, too!” 

Both of you erupt in laughter.

You shook your head, wiping a tear from your eye as you swung your leg over H/N’s saddle. “Mister Morgan, you are menance to society’s confections.”

“Just doing my civic duty, miss Y/N.” he chuckled, tipping his hat before effortlessly mounting Boadicea. 

As you both trotted out of camp, the heavu tension of the past few days seemed to evaporate into the morning air. Arthur lef the way, his broad shoulders relaxed, occasionally looking to the right of him just to check on you. 

Or maybe just to admire you. 

After an about half an hour of easy riding, he pulled Boadicea up by lake. He dismounted her and rushed over to help you.

“Maybe we should sit a bit underneath those trees.” Arthur dismounted and offered you a hand down. His grip was warm on your waist as he guided you off H/N. “Get you out of the sun. Can’t have our bravest member burning to a crisp.”

You laughed softly as your feet hit the ground. “I am the farthest from the ‘bravest leader’. I can name a bunch of people that are brave.”

Arthur took Boadicea’s and H/N’s reins and tied them to a nearby stump. “Am I on that list?”

“Right on top.” You smiled and reached up to flick Arthur’s hat playfully, before walking to the spot underneath the trees.

Arthur didn’t have time to react to your playfully gesture. His ears turned a slight shade of pink and he could feel his cheeks burning up, and it wasn’t because of the blistering sun. 

Arthur straightened his hat and cleared his throat, taking a deep breath before turning around to face you. “Right on top, huh? I’ll take it.” He sauntered over and sat down next to you. “Though, I reckon yer braver than you give yerself credit for. Not many folks could stand up in the middle of Rhodes and protest whats right. You told a bunch of angry men to go to hell and looked good doin’ it.”

You tilted your head towards him and smirked playfully. “I looked good?”

Arthur froze. He hadn’t meant to let that part slip out loud. He blinked, staring at you for a second. He quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck as his then pink ears turned a vibrant red. 

“I—well,” Arthur stammered, “I mean…you didn’t look bad. Just…social justice, it suits you all.” 

“Yeah, alright. You looked real good, Y/N. Real good. Prettiest woman in the whole country, if I’m bein’ honest.”  Is what Arthur wanted to say. 

He picked up a piece of long grass, twirling it between his calloused fingers as he looked out over the sparkling water. The breeze rustled the willow leaves above, casting dancing shadows across the two of you. 

Arthur continued, his expression turning a bit more serious. “When I saw you up there, speakin’ yer mind, standin’ up for what’s right, and not carin’ what any of ‘em small-minded bastards think, it makes me think about things. About how a person can change the world, or at least make a dent in it.” 

He turned to look to see if you were listening. And you were. 

With sparkling eyes traveling over his rough exterior, he knew you were waiting for him to continue. “Just…I’m glad that I crossed paths with you. Yer like…it’s like lookin’ at somethin’ entirely different. Somethin’ better, I guess.”

Arthur leaned his elbow on his knee, the air between you had shifted into something thick and heavy. Something incredibly intimate. 

“So,” Arthur began, taking his hat off and wiping the sweat off his brow, “Am I makin’ a total fool of myself yet, or can I keep talkin’?”

“Arthur,” you placed a friendly hand on his knee and Arthur almost combusted right then and there, “I’d never tell you to stop talking.” 

Arthur removed his elbow from his knee and placed his hand on top of yours. “Then, let me know more about this justice fighter.”

You let out a cackle. “If justice fighter means a woman with a $10,000 bounty, then sure.”

Arthur tensed at the mention of her bounty. You act so calm about it. If he had a bounty that big on his head he’d be scared shitless, always looking behind his shoulders for any bounty hunters or Pinkertons. 

“I mean it, Y/N.” Arthur tilted his head and gazed at you. “I feel like I’ve know you my whole life, but I don’t know a damn thing about you.”

You leaned your head back against the thick trunk of the tree, staring up at the sunlight filtering through the leaves. Your smile turned tighter, more fragile. You didn’t know if you were ready to let your past ruin this perfect afternoon. 

“Oh, come on, Arthur,” you turned your head to the side and gave Arthur a small smile, “we came out here to get away from camp, not to talk about boring old me. Besides, there’s not much to say, just a runaway that jumped from place to place.”

Arthur didn’t blink. His blue, diamond eyes stayed locked onto your face, enitrely unmoved by the distraction. He moved his fingers and laced them through yours. His heart was pounding, and he was confident you could see it popping out of his chest. 

You looked down at your interlaced hands, then looked up back into the sky. 

“Nice try.” Arthur murmured gently. “Yer hidin’ somethin’. I can feel it.”

He paused, his thumb mindlessly tracing a slow, reassuring circle over the back of your hand. “I ain’t tryin’ to pry, but if there’s folk lookin’ for you, I need to know what we’re, yer, up against. You don’t gotta carry it by yerself anymore. I’m here.”

You didn’t look back at Arthur. He bit his lip, before coming up with the brightest idea. “What if I tell you a little about me first?”

Your eyes shifted to Arthur’s face and he took that as a “yes, please”. 

While still holding your hand, and his heartbeat in his ears, he began. “My Ma died when I was young. My Pa, he was a bad man—well, he was an outlaw too. If I’m callin’ him a bad man what does that make me, right?” Arthur let out a quiet, self-deprecating chuckle before continuing. “When I was eleven he was arrested, saw him swing.” He took off his hat and nudged it at you. “This was his hat. Kept it all these years.”

You looked down at the old, weathred leather of the hat in his hand, then back up to his face. The fact that this dangerous man, outlaw, had surivived all of that, only to become the gentlest soul you’d ever met. It made something ache deep in your chest. 

Arthur placed the hat back onto his head. “Then when I was fourteen, got picked up by Hosea and Dutch and the rest is history.”

You took a soft breath, your fingers tightening in his. “You saw so much.”

Arthur let out a low huff, looking down at your hand still encased in his. “Yeah. Saw too much. But Dutch, Hosea, they saved me. Taught me to read, to write, how to be somewhat of a man. They’ve been the best dads I could ever dream of. I owe ‘em everythin’.”

“Oh Arthur,” you pouted, “have you ever told them?”

“Hosea, but Dutch, no. He’s not one for all that…sappy crap.” Arthur looked away bashfully.

You let out a soft, bittersweet chuckle, nudging his shoulder with yours. “Well, Dutch might put on a tough exterior, but I think he knows how much you care, Arthur. You show it every single day.”

Arthur didn’t answer. He just looked over the crystal-clear water of the lake. There was a gentle silence settling over the two of you. The mountain breeze was cool, rustling the willow leaves above and offering a brief escape from the rest of the world. 

But Arthur hadn’t forgotten why he brought it up. He turned his head back to you, his blue eyes locked onto your face. “Fair is fair, Y/N. I laid out my ugly past, what’s yers?”

You swallowed hard, the warmth of his hand over yours being the only thing keeping you anchored to the spot. “My family isn’t like yours, Arthur. My father, I think he wanted a son. He taught me how to hunt, to shoot—that’s why I’m so good at shooting, learned it from my old man.”

“I reckon that’s a good thing.” Arthur added.

You nodded in agreement before continuing. “My mother, on the other hand, was a proper lady. Still to this day I don’t know how my parents ended up together, they’re just so…”

“Opposite.” Arthur answered for you. 

“Yes. Opposite. So opposite. Completely different sides of the universe—opposite.”

Arthur chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“My mother, she wanted me to be a ‘proper lady’ just like her. She never wanted me to rough it out like a boy. From as young as I can remember I always felt like I was living some sort of a double life. I love being feminine, but I also love being masculine. If that makes sense.”

Arthur shrugged. “Makes perfect sense to me. A woman is allowed to wear a pretty skirt, but still go out and shoot better than any man.”

You let out a breath of relief. Relieved of what? You don’t know. You knew that a man like Arthur Morgan didn’t have a place to judge, but it felt nice getting that off your chest.

“I remember at seven she started teaching me proper table etiquette, sitting up nice and proper, scolded me for getting my tights dirty when playing outside. I had to be this perfect…woman ever since I was a child.” 

It was your turn to look across the water. You watched a duck and a mallard peacfully swim by. You felt jealous of them. They didn’t had to have hard conversations like this one. “When I was fourteen, my mom conivenced my father to trade our Turkoman and Arabian horses to this family.” You paused before looking back at Arthur. “They decided to trade me with them too.”

Arthur’s face turned into one of confusion. “What do you mean by that?” 

You sighed, feeling the weight of tears in your eyes. “They…they arranged for me to marry.”

Arthur’s eyes went wide as saucers. “Marry?! At fourteen?!” Arthur shouted and looked out at the water in frustration. “What kind of sick, backwater bastards—”

He turned his head back to face you, but cuts himself off when he noticed that a single tear spilled over onto your cheek. His expression softened. “Oh, I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

You shook your head and sniffled. “It’a fine. I mean, it’s not fine, but…it’s fine.” More tears start to fall and run along your cheeks. 

Arthur hiestated for a moment, not wanting to over step a boundary, but he felt in his heart, his soul, that what he was thinking was the right thing to do. His arm stretched out to your face, softly wiping away the tears that have fallen on your soft cheeks. 

You shot a surprised stare at Arthur, but didn’t dare to stop him. For a man with such scarred hands, he moved with a gentleness—grace. His knuckles burhsed softly against your cheekbone. 

“Don’t do that, Y/N. Don’t go tellin’ yerself it’s fine when it really ain’t.”

He let out a slow breath through his nose before he finally let his hand drop back down. He immediately reclaimed your hand on his knee, his fingers lacing through yours again and giving it a firm squeeze that grounded you in the earth both of you sat on. 

“I’m sorry for hollerin’.” Arthur looked down at your joined hands. “I just…just the though of anyone puttin’ a child though that nonsense. It makes my blood boil. Yer folks should’ve been protectin’ you.”

You let out a pity laugh, sniffling and wiping the excess wetness from your cheeks with your free hand. “Yeah, well what can you do. Anyway, I ran away from home and ran into a nun. Stayed there for a couple years, until I escaped the church and then ended up with Wade.”

“Wade?” 

“Oh, Wade Creed, my old gang leader. He picked me up when I was seventeen.”

“Hm.” Arthur nodded. He wanted to know more, but he didn’t want to pry, or make you feel like you’re being interrogated. 

“Wade, he was…complicated.” You added, your eyes drifting over the water. “He…well, he was kinda like Dutch.” You shot a look over to Arthur. “They would’ve been the best of friends.”

Arthur chuckled softly. “You think so?”

You nodded. “Yeah. He was a dreamer, to put it nicely. And I think that’s why everything happened the way it did.”

Arthur cocked his head, his brows scrunching up in confusion. “What happened?”

“Oh, it’s a long story.” 

“I like long stories.” Arthur said with a boyish smile. 

You shook your head. “Maybe some other time. I left when things got out of hand and that is what leads me to this story now.”

Arthur’s smile grew wider. “This story? I’m a story now?”

“Well, in my book, yes.” You returned the smile. “You, Dutch, the gang, the new friends I’ve made.”

 Arthur looked down to hide the obvious blush that had spread across his cheeks. The sounds of the nature around them, birds, squirrels, the water, all filled the silence. 

“Well,” Arthur began, “I reckon I like this story.”

“Well, I better keep writing it, huh?” Arthur noticed your pink-tinted cheeks. 

Arthur’s smile was soft, his chest rising and falling with a quiet, contented sigh. “Yeah,” his blue eyes locked on yours, completely captivated by the pink tint of your cheeks, “You better.”

You let out a breathy laugh, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you two are sitting, how his broad left shoulder was pressed against your smaller one, and how tightly your fingers were still intertwined together. 

“We should probably think about headin’ back.” He looks up at the sky. He remembered that loan Strauss wanted him to pick up. “On second thought, wanna run an errand with me?”

You shrugged. “Sure. Where to?”

Arthur sighed as he stood up from the ground. He reached a hand out for you to grab. You grabbed his big hand that was once wrapped in yours, and he pulled you up. “To pick up a loan from a little house near Valentine. It’s not too far from here.” 

“A loan?” You untied H/N from the tree stump.

“Yeah,” Arthur swung his leg over Boadicea’s back, “I collect loans for Strauss. It’s dirty, petty work, but I get to keep some of the cut.”

You mounted H/N with ease. “Ah, I see.”  

“And no one does it but me. I’m the big, scary man in camp.” Arthur gruffed, but it was true. No one else was fit for it. Hosea would rather die than get involved, and Dutch, well, was Dutch. 

“Work is work, right? Poor taking from the poor.” You commented, pushing your horse forward next to Arthur. 

Arthur sighed. “I hate doin’ it. But Mr. Downes owes us some money.”

There was a churning in your stomach ever since you left the lake. Maybe it was the thought of punishing people who were just trying to survive just like were? 

 “Arthur, I have a bad feeling about this.” Your voice was shaky and timid. Your hands were sweaty and had a hard time gripping H/N’s reins.

“It’ll be alright. I’ll get the money and we’ll go back to camp. Simple.” 

“I don’t know…” You murmured under your breath.

“Y/N, I’ve been doin’ this.” Arthur turned his head to the right to look at you. “Ever since Blackwater, before you joined us. It’ll be fine.”

You bit your lip. You didn’t want to annoy Arthur with your anxiety, but you still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong. 

The Downes’ ranch was quaint with a tiny garden as tiny as the house attached to it. As you both approached further, you saw a thin, frail man working in the garden. 

“Now, I’m gonna be real scary. Yellin’ and everythin’. That’s the only way they give me their money.” Arthur warned as he swung off Boadicea. 

“Want me to come too?” 

Arthur shook his head and waved you off. “No. Stay with the horses.” 

“Alright.” You couldn’t hide the weariness in your voice. “Be careful.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Arthur nodded and strode to the garden. 

Arthur cleared his throat. “Mr…Thomas Downes.”

The man, Thomas Downes, looked up from the fruits he was tending to. “Oh, yep, that’s me.” He was ghastly white and his eyes looked sunken-in, like he hasn’t slept in days. Weeks even. 

Arthur stepped closer, his stature completely covering Thomas’ shadow. “You owe me money.” His voice was as sharp as a dagger.

Thomas shook his head frantically. “Oh, no-no, I’m…I’m…” He tried to push Arthur back, but he wouldn’t budge. 

“Come here, you maggot.” Arthur pushed Thomas up against the fence and trapped him against the wood. 

You gasped. You felt so sick you could’ve vomited right there. You’ve seen gore. You’ve seen people’s heads shot off as their brain matter splattered all over you. You’ve seen gross things. This though, was just as disgusting. 

In your mind, you kept repeating: “It’s Arthur’s job.”, “Arthur has a job to do, he’s not like this.”, but you couldn’t believe it when you saw Arthur raise his fist and start beating the man.

“I’m workin’! I’m workin’ as hard as I can!” Thomas yelled in agony. He was slouched on the ground now, his face was already bloodied and marked up with black bruises.  

 “Why’d it have to come to this, huh?” Arthur’s fist collided with Thomas’ face again. “You ain’t such a do-gooder, are you? If yer runnin’ out on debts!” He punched him once more. 

Thomas wheezed as he tried to catch his breath. “I’m…I’m not runnin’ anywhere. I…I-I’m doin’ my bes—”

Arthur yanked Thomas up by the collar and slammed him into the fence. “How’s that debt lookin’ now? You borrowed money from my business partner, Herr Strauss. You owe him. You took the money. And now he wants it back.”

Thomas had been trying to catch his breath for so long that he began a coughing fit, coughing up some blood and accidently spitting it into Arthur’s face. Arthur groaned and wiped his face off with disgust. He shook Thomas against the fence. “Where’s our money?”

You covered your mouth with your hand in shock. It was a depressing sight. This man who was clearly ill was being beaten by the bank…of sorts. 

Thomas fell to the ground and began to cough violently. Arthur backed up when his wife ran up to him.

“Thomas!” She had tears in her eyes, and her scream for him was bloodcurdling. She knelt beside him and cradled his head.

“What are you lookin’ at, woman?” Arthur spat, his hands shaking and covered in Thomas’ blood. 

“My-My husband isn’t well.” Tears welled up in her eyes, looking up at Arthur. “If we could just have more—”

Arthur shook his head. “Like I said, we ain’t nobody’s idea of charity. Get us the money!” 

 “Arthur!” You ran up to him. “Let’s just go.” You grabbed his arm to pull him away. 

He glared at Thomas’s wife. Tears fell from her eyes as she patted her husband’s wounds. 

“Arthur, come on. Forget about it.”

Arthur looked back at you and you shot him a nasty glare and nodded to the horses. He sighed and walked away with you.

The ride back to camp was silent. The contrast between this and the conversations at the lake just an hour ago was dizzying. Your stomach was still tied in a sickening knot, the image of that man slouched against the fence burned into your mind. 

Arthur didn’t look at you. He wouldn’t even steal glances. He kept his eyes locked firmly straight ahead, the heavy brim of his outlaw father's hat completely shadowing his face. 

The only sound between the two of you was the rhythmic pounding of the horses’ hooves against the dirt path. It was heavy and agonizing. You were a couple paces back, and had a clear view of the rigid lines of Arthur’s broad shoulders that radiated a lingering adrenaline, but the slight slouch resembled a suffocating…shame. 

You had a couple more miles of riding, and you knew you didn’t want this to cause any awkwardness between the two of you. “Arthur?” you called out softly over the wind. 

Arthur didn’t answer. 

“Arthur?” You called out again, but a little bit louder. 

You saw his shoulders tense at the sound of his name. “No, Y/N.” His voice was low and defensive. He didn’t sound like the Arthur you knew. 

 You and Arthur swung off your horses back at camp. You wanted to talk to Arthur about what had just happened, but he made a beeline toward Strauss. 

Strauss looked up from his book when he noticed Arthur’s presence in front of him. “Ah,” He set the book down next to him, “how did you get on.”

“Not so good.” Arthur grumbled. 

Strauss seemed to sit up straighter. “Oh?”

Arthur leaned in close, his voice low. “He’s almost dead, and they, the Downes family, they seem more or less destitute.”

Strauss didn’t know what to say, he just kept Arthur’s now deadly gaze. “You were a fool for lendin’ them the money.” 

Strauss let out a nervous, breathy laugh. “Well, people who aren’t desperate don’t seem so interested in my propositions.”

A low growl slipped past Arthur’s lips as he tried not to roll his eyes at Strauss’ comment. “Of course.”

Arthur shook his head at Strauss and turned back, almost running into you. “Whoa, Y/N, why are you on top of me?” 

“Sorry, didn’t know you would turn around like that.”

“Hm.” He turned back and looked at Strauss. “Did you hear any of that?”

“A little. You feel sorry, Arthur.”

Arthur let out a small laugh. “Yeah, well that doesn’t make the act any better.”

“No, but at least you have compassion.”

Arthur laughed for real this time, the laugh you heard earlier that morning. “Thanks for makin’ me feel a little more human.”

You gave a half smile and nodded. “Yeah, well, that’s not the reason why I was ‘on top of you’.”

“Alright, so why were you on my tail?”

You dug into your satchel and pulled out a half eaten chocolate bar, the chocolate bar he’d given you yesterday. “I ate half, obviously. I figured we could share the other half, given the day ended pretty shitty.”

Arthur stared down at the crumpled wrapper in your hand, completely speechless. His eyes flickered from the chocolate up to your face, searching your expression for any sign of hidden judgment.

You nudged the chocolate bar toward him. His broad shoulders dropped with a sigh. “Yer a dream.” A genuine smile broke through the gloom that had been on his face. 

He reached out, his calloused fingers brushing against yours as he carefully took the remaining piece of chocolate. He broke it into two, handing the larger half to you. Arthur popped his half into his mouth, the sweet, but tart flavor of the dark chocolate dancing on his tongue. He leaned against a nearby tree, looking out over the camp as the evening lanterns began to flicker to life. The shame that had followed him from the Downes ranch didn’t disappear, and he feel like it never was going to, but with you standing next to him, it didn’t felt like it was going to crush him.

“Just wanted to remind you,” you said quietly, chewing on the soft chocolate, “that the man who was beating a sick feller, that’s not you, Arthur.”

Arthur’s jaw tightened slightly. He looked down at you from under the brim of his hat, his eyes incredibly soft. “No. No, Y/N. It’s me. And this,” he motioned between you and him, “the Arthur here, is me too.”

"Remember why we're here, fellas," Dutch's voice was low and gravelly, "look for any opportunities, as well as anything we can stash in your pockets."

Bill let out a low chuckle, but Hosea and I stayed quiet. I felt that Hosea had the same churning in his stomach as I did.

Dutch had recently gotten us friendly with Angelo Brontë, an intelligent, quick-witted Italian businessman. I couldn't blame Dutch for that, we needed to rub elbows with Brontë to get Jack back.

But getting invited to the mayor's party and actually attending? To me, this was overstepping a boundary I would rather not cross.

All Dutch saw was open doors and money signs, of course at the expense of his men. He's been different, not the same man that I once knew, not the same man that I considered a father.

We were guided to the gardens of the mayor's mansion. It gleamed under the sparkling golden porch lights. The room buzzed with pompous conversations between pompous men and women that held glasses of champagne that were probably worth more than my life alone.

I fought hard to hide my disgust, but what can I say? I turn my nose up at arrogant rich people like they turn their nose up at me.

Dutch sidled up to Brontë doing what he does best, schmoozing. That's one thing that hasn't changed about Dutch.

I rolled my eyes before getting back to what I was here to do. Steal, which is what I do best.

I stuffed my hands in my pant pockets and tried to exude the same important demeanor I saw the other men here have, but I knew I couldn't fool anyone. I slowly strolled through the party-goers on the terrace, looking down so I didn't step on any fancy shoes or somehow ruin their elegant tuxedos and dresses.

But then, as I looked up from the ground, I saw her.

It was like the thick pollutant air became thin. Like the bright, sparkling, golden lights became brighter than the sun. Almost like a spotlight at the theater.

And I stood there like an idiot.

She looked like she belonged, adorned with elegant gown and heels like the other women here. Her hair was pinned in a neat updo, not a single strand falling out of place. She stood by the grand staircase with an effortless grace, smiling at something a man who was talking to her had said. I saw the people congregated on the terrace gazing at her and whispering to their friends and spouses.

Then it dawned on me:

You belonged because you were part of the wealthy and powerful. Your family were the ones on the tippy-top, along with the other people who were at the top, but you probably didn't bunch yourself with the brutes of the middle-high class.

Nonetheless, a prime target for me.

I found my in when the man that was talking to her walked away. I noticed her disgust and her eyes rolling to the back of her head when the man was gone.

I sidled up to her like Dutch to Brontë. I felt my nerves tingle with...fear? No. With...well, I don't know. In these moments where I am surrounded by people who had more worth in their fingernail than me I felt my tongue twist and the words in my brain getting tangled in that tongue twist.

I cleared my throat moving closer to her. "Evenin'." I gave a slight nod.

She gave me a small smile, looking up at me. "Evening." Her eyes glanced up and down my attire which was the equivalent to a costume to me. "I haven't seen you around here before."

I shifted under her gaze, becoming stiff and consistently more aware of how out of place I must've looked in my suit that was too tight across my chest and shoulders and too striking for my taste, but Dutch swore I should have it. Jesus...

But something about your gaze was different from the rich assholes that were here. Instead of clutching your purse close to your body or turning the other way, you were intimidating me. You were sizing me up.

"N-no, this ain't my usual sort'a...event." A breath that was strangled within my lungs slipped out in a painful sigh.

"I can tell." She admitted, which did not make me feel any more confident. "But don't worry, most of these fools don't care to notice, even if they make sure to show it."

I cocked my head, my brow rising. "You think so?"

She nodded knowingly. "They're either too drunk, or the men are face deep into a women, who aren't their wives, pussy."

A rough bark escaped me. I was pleasantly surprised by her bluntness. All of the rich women here would never dare to speak her sentence, let alone stay around another woman who was so unapologetic.

I glanced around to see if I can see what she meant. And once her sentence filtered through my head I could see it, like it was a secret message that I was just waiting for.

For instance, a very important man, probably a politician of some sort, letting his hands ghost another woman's hip, before sauntering over to his unknowing wife by the fountain.

"Yeah," I muttered dryly, "place is full of snakes."

She swirled her glass gently. "So tell me, are you a man of infidelity, or are you a drunkard?"

A slow smile spread across my face as I shook my head. "Neither. I ain't got a woman waitin' for me and I'm not drunk. Yet."

Her smile grew wider. "You're one of the few then."

"Guess I am." I took a step closer, a step that I wouldn't have dared to take a couple seconds ago.

The noise of the party seemed like it faded, even though I knew the reality was that it was the same volume. But the orchestra, the whispers and laughters from other attendees, none of that mattered right now.

Even though I don't know her, I could tell that my assumption of her was wrong. She has status, but doesn't act like she does. Which is weird, but refreshing.

"You know," I started, but without thinking of the words that were coming out next, "you ain't like these people either."

It felt like us, two strangers from completely different worlds, realizing they speak the same language.

She was now the one who cocked their head. "And how so? You don't know me."

"Yer right," I admitted, "I don't know you. Still most folks here? Seems like they talk with their mouths full of white lies. Without knowin' me you spoke your mind, without all that sugarcoatin' bullshit. It's admirable."

She smiled, but I continued. "And you ain't starin' at me like I'm dirt under your shoes just 'cause I'm not wearin' gold cufflinks, or...somethin' like that." A beat of silence passed before I finished my sentence. "So yeah, different."

She let out a warm chuckle before taking a sip of her champagne. I watched her lips pressed gently to the rim of the glass and how she probably wouldn't even flinch at the champagne's price tag.

All of Dutch's nonsense, the stealing, the opportunities, all vanished. I was just...talking. Talking to you.

A waiter carrying a serving tray passed by us and I, without thinking, reached out a plucked a fancy-looking sandwich from it. It was a poor excuse of a sandwich, if I could even call it that. It was basically a crumb of bread with a slice of cucumber on top.

I popped it in my mouth like I belonged, pretending it was a normal dinner fair instead of rich people silliness. It tasted sad, but free food, right?

"So, how do you find yourself here?" She asked me, her eyes looking up at me through her eyelashes.

I chewed slowly, buying myself time to quickly conjure up an answer.

The truth? Dutch, yeah THE Dutch Van Der Linde, sent me and some of his other men to rob the shit out of you rich folks.

But I couldn't say that, of course.

So I swallowed and leaned one shoulder against the marble handrail of the terrace's balustrade, feigning the casualness like this was any other social gathering for me.

"Got invited, " I shrugged like it was no big deal, "Friend of mine's connected." I am not exactly lying, but I'm starting to become one of the rich men here telling white lies.

I shrugged again. "Never been to one of these things before. Figured...why not?"

She raised her eyebrow at me. You saw right through my bullshit. "You know someone here?"

Ouch.

I hesitated. "Yeah. Know someone who knows someone." My voice dropped to a quiet register. "Sorta."

"Hm." She took another sip of her champagne. I watched her fingers curling around the stem of the glass with elegance. The way her eyes traveled down me yet again made my skin prickle.

I shifted on my feet. This social tension? Worse than any standoff or bullets that grazed my head.

The silence stretched for what seemed like days before I exhaled through my nose and decided to take a gamble. "Yer gonna ask if I'm here to steal or somethin'?"

What came over me?

Maybe guilty conscience?

I am talking to this gorgeous woman, in her gorgeous dress, at this...godforsaken party, here to steal from people like her.

Her face twisted into one of confusion. Shit. "Now why would I ask that?"

"W-well..." I trailed off. I felt my ears get hot and my cheeks get rosy and even hotter.

A smile broke onto her face. "But you'd be stupid if you didn't come here to steal something."

Oh?

You were right. But I wasn't thinking about the abundance of items and paperwork to steal right now.

"Maybe I'm not going to steal," I began, "or maybe I just haven't decided yet."

I tilted my head, now taking my time to study her. "Why? Yer gonna turn me in?" That sentence sounded intimidating in my head, but when it came out of my mouth it was laced with flirtation.

But her smile never wavered and parroted back. "Maybe. I just haven't decided yet."

You were playing with me. That smile, the glint in your eyes that I couldn't ignore, the teasing lilt in your tone. You were flirting back with me. You dirty girl.

I leaned in and lowered my voice so only she could hear. "Well then, better keep me entertained so I don't actually steal somethin'."

"Or if you do make up your mind, I'll just pretend I didn't see." She takes another sip and held her eye contact with me above the rim of her glass.

You would cover for me? And that lustful gaze with your sinful eyes. You're a bad girl. A very bad girl.

All of a sudden I felt like I didn't have control of myself. Once she finished drinking, I reached out and took the champagne flute right from her hand and took a sip myself, right around where her lush lips had been.

My eyes burned holes into hers as I drank. The look of pure shock on her face turned into one that was...intrigued? It was hard to tell in the moment, but I saw the smirk on her lips and heard the low chuckle escape from her sweet lips.

The champagne tasted sweet, or maybe that was what I imagined your lips tasted? Anyway, what mattered was your reaction and that I didn't make a complete ass out of myself.

The action repeated in my head as I continued to drink. It was awkward and odd. No one does that. But I'm glad she didn't seem to mind.

She was holding my stare with no fear or judgement painted on her face. Just...amusement, like maybe something hotter was brewing underneath.

I lowered the glass and handed it back to her without breaking eye contact.

"You're fun." She smirked. "I've never had a man tickle me this much before."

You think I'm fun just 'cause of this? I haven't even showed you my full potential.

"You ain't so bad yerself." I murmured before quickly adding. "I mean, you got taste."

She raised a brow. "Just 'cause I find you fun?"

"Well...I mean...no. No, that's not what I meant." I stuttered and stumbled over my words. Jesus Christ, pull it together. "Yer just funny. And pretty too."

Her face lit up just like the twinkling lights on the terrace. "There it is."

I blinked. "Huh?"

"Answer me this, did you come here to steal or just to flirt around with the mayor's daughter?"

THE MAYOR'S DAUGHTER?!

My face might as well been translucent. I probably look like a corpse standing there dumbfoundedly while all the blood from my cheeks pooled to my feet. "Well, I-I didn't know you were the mayor's daughter." I wished I could've just disappeared into the night sky.

I saw her smile again. She grabbed my hand and started to lead me. I didn't know where she was dragging me off to, probably to her daddy so she can see me swing.

"Can I ask where yer takin' me?" I peeped out, scared to know the answer, and possibly my inevitable fate. She led me inside the mansion and into a hallway that greeted us with a long, narrow staircase.

She looked back at me. "You wanted to steal something, well in that case I want something too."

"W-What? What do you mean?" My voice was barely above a whisper.

Once up the stairs, she ushered me into a small study. Next to the door, there was a desk with stacks of papers and books upon books strewn across the top. I could practically hear them scream my name. I glanced back at her, my heart was slamming against my ribs. She closed and locked the door behind us, shutting out the party below.

She stepped forward, blocking me from the view of my treasure. "You want things of value, big boy," she purred, a wicked smile spreading across her face, "well then you need to fuck me."

Fuck you? You want me...to fuck you.

"What?!" I sputtered out.

I don't think I even could. I mean, I haven't laid with anyone since, well, since Mary. I wouldn't be up to par with the high-class men you hang around with. What if I finish too fast? What if I don't make you come?

She looked up at me with pleading eyes. "Are you gonna fuck me or not?"

"I don't...I don't even know yer name."

"Is that really that important? I have what you want, and I can tell you don't pass up a pretty lady." She wrapped her arms around my neck. "And, here I am, a pretty lady throwing myself at you."

I let out a shaky breath and let my hands hover over her waist. She pushed me up against the door with a soft bump.

"Have you had sex before?" She asked bluntly.

"Yes."

She smiled. "Good."

"Good?" My hands were shaking and my legs felt like jelly.

She lowered herself down to her knees, letting her hands trail down my body and finally gripping onto my hips once her knees hit the ground.

She looked up at me with those big, innocent eyes and rubbed her face against my growing arousal. I huffed, biting my lip and looking up at the ceiling.

If I look at you I'm gonna come, and I cannot come yet. We just started and you would most likely kick me out. I'd have to kiss everything goodbye.

She moaned softly into my clothed, pulsating cock, begging to be free. I let out a shaky breath before looking down at her. "Take me out..."

"Mmm, but I'm not done yet." She groaned into my cock. My head shot up again, leaning against the door.

I thrust my cock into her face, just desperate to get more friction. I was embarrassingly hard, uncomfortably hard.

I felt my precum leak out onto my pants. She let out a surprised gasp, before giggling softly and unzipping my zipper and letting my heavy cock spring free.

I looked down at her admiring my cock, examining it like she didn't know what she wanted to do first. Her eyes were wide and sparkling as she took my base in her hands, her grip firm against my hardness.

I let out a low, ragged hiss between my teeth as she began to stroke me, her hand sliding up and down the length of it with a slow, agonizingly steady rhythm.

I was right. You are a very dirty girl. A very dirty girl rubbing your pretty face on my big cock, stroking my big cock with your cute feminine hands.

Every stroke, up and down, pulled a tight shudder right out of my chest. I tried to look away, tried to anchor my hands...anywhere, but my eyes kept dragging themselves right back to her on her knees. Watching her delicate hands moving in unison against my thick heat was intoxicating.

You were ruining me in the middle of your daddy's study, and you love every minute of it.

"You like that, huh? You like when I stroke your big cock, yeah?" she purred, her thumb tracing over the slick ridge of my head, catching my leaking precum and smearing it down my shaft to make her strokes smoother.

"Ah...f-fuck." I growled. My hips jerked forward instinctively, chasing the friction of your palm. My whole body was wound up like a spring, my muscles shaking from the immense pleasure. "You...you gotta slow down there..."

"Why? You're gonna come for me, huh?" She looked up, not slowing down.

"If...if y-you keep going at m-me like this." I responded in weak breaths.

"Don't come unless I say, alright?" She tossed back her hair and took me in her mouth, using one of her hands to stroke the rest she couldn't fit.

I moaned in response. I couldn't form sentences without me sounding like a complete, stumbling idiot.

She came off my cock with a pop. "Don't come..." She sang. She replaced her mouth with her other hand again.

My jaw clamped shut, a desperate grunt caught in the back of my throat. I am an outlaw who spent his whole life running from the law, but right now, I was completely paralyzed and pinned to the door by a direct order from the mayor's daughter.

You're torturing me. You know exactly how close I am. You evil woman.

I felt a rush of pleasure fluttering in my lower stomach as I began to thrust more frantically in her hands. I moaned and whimpered in an embarrassing manner.

And I came.

Then she stopped.

The warmness of her hands, instantly gone from my throbbing cock. My head shot down to her.

"I told you not to come."

Smack!

The sharp, stunning slap against my sensitive, throbbing cock made my head shoot straight back against the door. A loud, breathless groan ripped from my lungs, my teeth grinding together do hard I'd thought they'd shatter and fall out.

She slapped it again and I felt like my legs were going to buckle underneath me. I tried to keep my footing, my knee shaking like leaves.

You're slapping my cock, watching swing back and forth. You're punishing me...like I'm some sort of animal. Is that how you see me? An animal?

"I give you an order, and you just take what you want anyway, huh?" She smiled up at me, despite the abuse she had endured on my cock.

"I...I told you..." I wheezed out, my voice rougher than gravel, "I couldn't...couldn't help it."

She let out a soft mocking chuckle, then licked my come off my head and my shaft, glancing up at me to make sure I was watching.

And I was sure as hell watching. I couldn't have looked away if the building was burning down around us. Or even if her daddy walked in.

My mind completely short-circuited. The sheer audacity of it, the absolute filth of her, a woman who was supposed to be the mayor's pristine daughter was doing to me, made my still-hard cock even harder, if that was even possible.

She sucked the come off her fingers, her tongue swirling around her digits, making sure she didn't waste a single drop.

I need to fuck her now.

I lifted her up from the ground, earning a gasp from her. I wrapped my arm around her, and with my free one, wiped off the papers and books off the desk and placed her down on her back.

"I need to fuck yer pussy," I grunted, "come on, pull up yer dress for me." She laid there on her back, a smirk spreading over her pretty face as she looked up at me.

She didn't hesitate. I could see her hands trembling slightly, but she reached down, grabbing the hem of her expensive gown and bunching the heavy fabric up around her waist, exposing her lace undergarments and the soft skin of her thighs.

I didn't waste a second. I hooked my fingers into the lace, ripping the delicate fabric right down the center with one violent tug. She let out a sharp gasp, her fingers digging into the edge of the desk behind her as I wedged myself between her knees, forcing her legs to open wide.

"Yer cunt is drippin' for me, sweetheart." I gently spread her cunt open with my fingers. Her legs trembled slightly as she let out soft whimpers.

"Yer ready for me? Ready for this big cock, huh?"

She nodded eagerly and wrapped her legs around my waist to pull me in. I lined the head of my cock right against the opening of her wet cunt. Her breathing turned shallow and frantic as she felt me pressing to get in. She whimpered like it was some sort of a plea.

I didn't give her a chance to do anything. I gripped her hips with force and buried myself inside of her in a sharp, deep thrust.

A guttural, animalistic sound tore from the back of my throat as her cunt completely encased me. It was a total eclipse of my senses.

I didn't give her a second to adjust to the size of me. I drove into her again and again and again, each time harder than the last, my hips slamming against her making loud smacking sounds of our skin slapping together.

The mahogany desk creaked violently beneath her, shifting a few inches against the floorboards, but I couldn't care even a little if the piece of furniture shattered under us.

She let out a loud, high-pitched broken cry as I continued to pump into her with relentless rhythm.

I panted, barely able to speak. "Yer tits...mmm...yer tits bouncing each time I pound into ya..." I let out a ragged laugh.

"W-wait...I'm...!" She choked out, her hands flying to my chest, her fingers digging through my suit jacket.

"No." I growled and pinned her wrists against the desk on either side of her head, locking her in place.

"You dirty girl...takin' me on yer daddy's desk." I growled as I felt my thrusts become sloppy. "You like that don't you? Huh? That yer daddy will sit here tomorrow and not even know what you did. Hm?"

She didn't answer, just moan and cry out as she dug her nails in my hands. Her legs began to shake and I felt her cunt pulse on my cock.

"Yeah come for me...doesn't mean I'll stop." I growled out and forced my thrusts to become as rough as they were when we started.

She didn't answer with words. She couldn't. Only with cries and broken moans.

"Rub yer clit for me." I demanded. "Come on, be a good girl a rub yer swollen clit."

Her hands were shaking as I released her wrists, allowing her to reach down between our bodies. Her delicate fingers found her clit right near where my shaft of my cock was still driving inside her.

The second her fingers touched herself, a piercing cry left her throat. She started rubbing in a desperate rhythm, matching the pace of my hips.

Look at you. I wish you could. The mayor's precious little girl, fucking an old, perverted outlaw.

The sight of her undone state against the creaking desk sent a massive wave of heat straight to my gut. My thrusts became deeper and the smacking sound of our skin meeting was bouncing off the ceiling of the silent study.

"Yeah, just like that." I growled, hitting her deepest spot over and over. "Make yerself come all over my cock."

Her fingers moved faster as she pushed herself closer and closer to the edge. Her walls were clamping down on me again like a vice. She was breathing in short hitches, her head tilted back, her chest rising and falling.

"I'm coming...I'm coming!" She screamed out like a helpless surrender.

Her hips jerked upward against mine. I could feel the intense pressure inside her, a heat that began to pool right where we joined.

"Come on, sweetheart." My hands squeezed the meat of her hips so hard my fingers sank deep into her skin. "Give it to me."

With one final, frantic circle of her fingers, her whole body went rigid. Her eyes rolled back, her legs locked tightly against me, and a wail escaped her mouth.

A sudden torrent of fluid erupted from deep inside her, a soaking rush that drenched my cock, as well as the front of my pants and the desk under her. The force of her release gushed over my skin, a wave of wetness that made her cunt slick. The fluid began to pool under her lower back, some dripping onto the papers I'd thrown on the floor.

The spasms of her squirting cunt wrung the absolute life out of me, dragging me right over the edge before I could even draw another breath. I let out loud moans, my jaw locking so hard my teeth clicked together. I drove myself into her one last time, bottoming out completely against her pelvic bone.

My own release tore out of me in massive white-hot pulses, shooting deep into the very depths of her womb. I pumped myself empty into her pulsing cunt while she lay there completely breathless, her hand dropping limply away from her thigh, weeping and trembling.

"So." Her voice was timid.

"So." I repeated back.

It was silent for a moment before we both burst into quiet laughter.

"That was fun." I said quietly.

"I knew you were fun."

I smiled. "Yeah, you knew."

I pulled out of her earning a moan from both her and I. She slid off the desk and straightened out her dress before moving to the door.

"Wait!" I called out.

She looked at me with a smile. "I'm gonna change. Take whatever you want." She unlocked the door and walked away.

So I was standing there, in the mayor's study where I fucked his daughter and made her come so hard she marked her territory. I gathered some of the books off the floor and picked up the wet papers and stuffed them in my pockets.

Before I left, I looked down at my clothes. I couldn't do anything about the wet spot soaked into my pants, but I couldn't care. I was wearing the mayor's daughter.

We picked her and her daughter up before the failed Blackwater heist. It's been hard, on all of us, but I can't imagine how her and Abigail feel. They had little ones in this dangerous life, always moving, always worrying about if all of a sudden there is going to be gunfire.

I bet it's scary. I'm a grown man who has been surrounded by this life since I could remember and I'm still weary.

I remember when she told me about her husband, if you would even call him as such. She had told me a little after her daughter was born, her husband began to pay closer attention to the working girls at the saloon than his own wife and child. Eventually, one morning he didn't come home.

She had told me she didn't care if he ran off or wound himself dead. I laughed.

From then on, she said her and her daughter survived on the streets, kind people that offered their home to them, and hopped from church to church to use their facilities.

Now, her daughter is three, just a year younger than Jack. Her daughter runs around, plays, dances, sings—things that she said were far and few between when they were on their own.

But whenever I see her, I can't forget what her husband had done. A real man, hell a real person, doesn't do that to someone they love.

Even when they were still alive, I frequently visited my son and his mother. I never not just didn't show up. But then I think about it some more: I was young, younger than her husband was. I was nineteen and he was in his thirties. How pathetic is that? A grown man leaving his family, just like that.

Anyways, even if her backstory wasn't as tragic, I would still have the same respect for her. Parenting is hard, any fool can see that. She rarely got time for herself, and is always up at the earliest hours of the morning sewing clothes for her little one. She always says "I turn around and she's growing out of these!", it's endearing to say the least.

To say I wasn't sweet on her would be ridiculous. I found everything about her to be so...flawless. The way she interacted with everyone in camp, the way she tended to her daughter, hell even the way she walked looked graceful. It sounds silly, I know, but I just can't help but let my eyes wander to her.

Tonight, well this morning, wasn't any different. Most of the camp has gone to bed, drunk slumped up against a nearby tree, or quietly sitting at the table near the fire. She had placed herself on the log by the fire so she can see the tiny skirt she was sewing together...again. I've noticed she had been sewing this specific skirt every couple weeks now. I've also noticed it was her daughter's favorite because she worn it all the time.

I plopped down on the log next to her. "Hey." I said gruffly, I cleared my throat.

She looked up from her project. "Hey, Arthur. Came in late I see."

"Workin' late I see." I rebutted as I dug out a cigarette from my satchel. I lit the tobacco with the dying campfire that was dancing with life before I left.

She sighed and looked down at her daughter's skirt in her lap. "I need to get this done tonight. She's been asking about this skirt."

I laughed. "This specific one?"

"If she found out how bad I wanted to chuck this skirt into the fire she would have a fit." She held up the skirt for me to see. "Look! It's barely staying together. I swear this girl is going to wear this thin."

I nodded and took a drag from my cigarette. "That's pretty bad."

"Thank you!" She let out an exasperated huff. She placed the skirt back down on her lap and began sewing again. "What were you doing out so late?"

"Just scoutin'. We can't stay at Horseshoe Overlook forever. I just lost track of time."

"I see..." She responded, her fingers working overtime on the fabric, "I would take that over this."

I snorted. "You would take scoutin' over sewin'?"

"Yeah, especially when it's this godforsaken skirt." She gritted her teeth, but I hear the slight playful undertone.

"I guess yer right. It was a pretty night out to go ridin'. Do you know how to ride..." I could feel my cheeks get hot before I quickly added, "like a horse."

She looked over at me. "What else would I ride?"

"Uh..." I rubbed the back of my neck with my free hand, "nothin' sorry, just...tired."

I could see a smile spread on her lips. "I do know how to ride a horse. My pa taught me when I was young."

I nodded taking another hit of my cigarette. She motioned for it and it took me a second to understand what she wanted. I handed it over to her and watched her sweet, soft lips, the lips that I wanted to collide with mine and move with the same grace she carried, wrap around the paper and inhale.

I watched as she blew the smoke from out of her nose. It was single-handedly the most attractive thing I've seen in awhile, and I know that it'll be replaying and replaying in my head for days, even months.

When she passes back the cigarette, her eyes met mine and instantly figures me out. "Were you watching me?"

I blinked. "No. I just want my damn cigarette back."

She smiled wide. "You were, you liar!"

"I was not." I said, but the smile in my voice failed to conceal the truth.

I reached for my cigarette, but she jerked her arm back. "You'll only get this if you tell me the truth."

I scoffed as a smirk grew on my lips. "You ain't gonna parent me, give me my cigarette back."

I scooted closer to her and reached for it, but she now moved it above her head. I backed away slightly and let out a huff. "Yer a cruel woman."

I reached up and grabbed her wrist lightly and pulled it down to me, but she didn't give up my cigarette. I looked directly into her eyes before guiding her wrist to my mouth and took a puff.

I turned my head and exhaled the smoke out, as to not blow the smoke into her face. When I faced her again, my voice was dripping with sarcasm. "I was looking at you now."

She let out a laugh and held out my cigarette for me to take. "Well played my friend, but I still think you were looking at me."

"And what if I was? Would you mind?" The words slipped out of my mouth faster than I could even process what I was saying.

Her smile didn't waver. "Alright, Mister Morgan."

Mister Morgan. My cheeks were as hot as the fire, or what was left of it.

I let out a laugh. "Wh-what...?" I sound like a fool!

"What happened to all that confidence just now, hm?" She playfully spat back.

"W-what do you mean? I am confident, I have confidence."

"Arthur," She placed her sewing equipment down on the ground next to her, "You just took a drag of your own cigarette from my hands, then all of a sudden you're red as a tomato and stumbling over your words."

"Uh...I—"

"Arthur, I'm not an idiot."

"Oh, of course yer not."

I wouldn't believe what happened next even if my future self had told me. She grabbed my face, with such care, and leaned in pressing her lips against mine. My eyes were wide and my body went still. I've kissed many women before, but all of a sudden I was inexperienced. I didn't know what to do with my hands, where she liked them to be when she gets kissed. I don't want to impose and place my hands where she doesn't want them to be.

So all I did was close my eyes and feel her sweet, soft, graceful lips against mine which were the opposite.

She pulled away and rubbed my cheeks with her thumbs. She got up and grabbed her sewing stuff from beside her.

"I'm going to bed." She stated. "Have a really goodnight Arthur. I know I will."

I cleared my throat. "Y-yeah. Goodnight."

She began to leave until she turned back to me. "And you were looking. I saw you, ass." She smiled and walked back to her and her daughter's shared tent.

a/n: a mother fic on mother's day weekend? it's like i planned that or something...

"Come on Arthur, at least try." I stood with my hands on my hips. I was annoyed to say the least.

Dutch had gotten us an invite to the mayor's party via Angelo Brontë. Sure the event is to schmooze and rub some elbows to get some jobs, but I was still excited to get all dressed up. I usually never have the opportunity to do so.

With this invitation, Dutch had instructed those who went get proper clothes and tried to fit within the social norms of the rich society, which meant I had to teach my boyfriend, Arthur, how to dance.

Coming from a rich family, I knew how to fit in with these snotty assholes. I knew what to say, how to say those things, when to laugh—it all coursed through my veins, like it was still part of my everyday life.

"I am tryin'!" Arthur retorted as he let out a frustrated huff. To me, it seemed like he was half-assing it just so he could get out of his, "godforsaken" (his words), suit and back into his Levis. But I was determined for him to walk out of this room knowing how to waltz.

I rolled my eyes and stepped into his space once more. I firmly grabbed his hands to keep him from pacing. The orange setting Saint Denis sun was beginning to dip and shine through the windows of the room I had rented out for us.

"Arthur Morgan, you are a hardened criminal who has escaped the law, countless times mind you, a sharpshooter, an artist—"

"I ain't close to what an artist is." Arthur interrupted.

"I've seen your drawings, my love, you're an artist. Anyways, a sharpshooter, an artist, a friend, brother, hopeless romantic—"

"I ain't—"

I placed a kiss on his lips cutting him off. "Honey, between you and I, you so are. It's okay, embrace it sweetheart."

Arthur's cheeks turned slightly pink before he shook his slightly. "Okay, well all of that doesn't mean I'm a good dancer."

"No, but you're all of those things so why can't you be?"

Arthur let out a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a Goan, finally letting his hands go limp in mine. He knew when he was beat. He looked down at me, his jaw finally softening as he took in my sheer determination.

"You got a way of makin' things sound so simple." He muttered, though the edge of his mouth was twitching upward.

"It is simple. Just, follow me."

Arthur sighed, that deep, chest-rumbling sound that usually meant he was resigning himself to whatever trouble I'd cooked up for him. He adjusted his stance, his boots clicking softly on the floor.

"Follow you," Arthur repeated, "I've been doin' that since we met. I suppose it ain't led me off a cliff yet."

"You're so dramatic." I took his hand and lifting it until our fingers intertwined. I placed his other hand back on my waist.

"Now," I said under my breath, stepping closer until the toes of my shoes brushed his, "I'm going to step forward with my left, and you're going to step back with your right. On three. Ready?"

Arthur nodded and looked down at his feet.

"Okay. One...two...three."

We moved. It wasn't exactly there effortless glide of a Saint Denis socialite; it was more like a toddler trying to walk. Arthur was stiff, his muscle coiled tight, like he hadn't danced a day in his life (and trust me, I've seen him dance. He can dance). He stared down at the floor with such intensity I thought he might burn a hole through the wood.

"Arthur," I chided gently, nudging his chin up with my hand, "look at m. The floor isn't going anywhere."

Arthur's blush on his cheeks only became deeper. And he doesn't say he's a hopeless romantic. The frustration was still in his eyes, but it was being overtaken by the quiet, steady devotion that he tried to hide within his gruff exterior.

"I feel like a real fool." He admitted, his thumbs tracing a nervous line against the fabric of my clothes.

"You look like a gentleman," I rebutted, "and you're doing it. Look, we're moving."

I began to hum a melody, nothing fancy, just a simple three-four beat. Gradually, the tension started to drain out of his shoulders and legs. His steps grew less stiff, his weight shifting more naturally to match mine. He even managed a small smile when we completed a full rotation without him stepping on my toes.

"There." I said, leaning my head forward to rest against his shoulder. "The Mayor's guests won't know what him 'em."

Arthur let out a soft hum, pulling me closer, if that was even possible. "I bet they'll be too busy lookin' at you to notice me fumblin' around, darlin'."

"Oh, I don't think so," I looked up at him, "You're a natural if you just let yourself go, Arthur."

"I guess..." He mumbled. I smiled and pressed a sweet kiss to his nose, and his cheeks gotten redder.

"Stop that..." He looked away at the ground next to us.

I giggled and showered Arthur's face with kisses. He groaned, a rumble of mock-protest vibrating in his chest, but he didn't pull away. He couldn't, not with his arms wrapped around me and his heart beating out of his chest that he could've sworn I could see it pounding out of his suit.

Every time my lips hit his cheek, his forehead, or his jaw, he'd duck his head, trying to hide a boyish, bashful grin.

"Quit it..." Arthur started, "you're gonna...you're gonna mess up my hair." He stammered, though his grip on my waist anchored me agains him.

I let out a laugh. "Outlaw Arthur Morgan is worried about his hair?" I teased against his skin, planting one last, lingering kiss right on the corner of his mouth. "What would Bill or John say if they saw you right now?"

"They'd say I've gone soft." He muttered, now looking back at me. The orange glow of the sunset was fading into evening. His eyes were soft, devoid of the cynicism that sat there. "And, I guess they'd be right."

Arthur let out a long, slow breath, and for a moment, we just stood there. We began to sway to the sound of the Saint Denis night.

"You really think I can pull this off?" Arthur asked quietly. "Not just the dancin', but the...actin' like I actually belong there?"

I pulled back just enough to look him square in the eyes, my hands sliding up to cup his face. "Arthur, believe me when I say this, those people spend their lives behind masks. They're fancy dresses, fancy shoes, fancy hair, fancy parties. Everything is fake. It's all a facade."

He nodded and let me continue.

"Arthur, out of everyone in my life that I had meet, you're the most honest person I know. You don't belong there, because no one belongs there, even those assholes who claim they belong there. You just have to be there with me. We're just two more guests playing the part, like everyone else. And once we're done, we can stop playing pretend and go back to being us."

He looked at me for a long time, as if he were memorizing my words. Then, he learned down and pressed a soft kiss to my lips. I leaned into his lips, moaning softly against them. We we pulled away, he now cupped my cheeks.

"As long as I'm with you," he whispered, his thumb grazing my cheekbone, "I reckon I can handle a few snotty assholes and a waltz."