everything, with time

In his peaceful slumber, Worick’s breathing became more labored and squirms lightly under the soft mattress of his bed at the gust of fresh air running over his skin. A soft touch caresses his inner thighs, following after a gentle suck then another on his member. 

He squints an eye, in midst of the rays of the sun peeking through the blinds of the window a blurred vision of your disheveled hair on his crotch came to view. Orange and yellow hues ignites the room making you glow in the morning sunrise. Your arms were enveloped around his waist, holding each side of his hips tenderly. His breath hitched as your head slowly started to bob, giving languid strokes on his member. The corners of his lips curls up, catching a glimpse of your concentrated face as you furrowed your brows — digging your nails onto his skin, hollowing your cheeks to welcome more of him into the warmth of your mouth, humming in delight. 

Its vibration quivered through his body, a soft moan escaped his lips, and sinks into the pillows. One hand grips into the sheets whilst the other found its way into your hair, kneading his fingers into your strands —- brushing your hair backwards and grunts when he sees his wet cock disappearing into your sweet plump lips, feeling its head being brushed more into the back of your throat. 

He bites his lower lip and strokes your hair as the sounds of your moans and suckling noises blesses his ears. With a hand holding his hips down, you grab the base of his cock and stroke, suck, twirl your tongue around his now throbbing member. Gradually the pace of your head becomes more rapidly, your nose coming closer and closer to his lower abdomen. A smile curls your lips at the feeling of his hips hardening and his moans becoming louder —  loving the way the infamous handyman is coming apart under your touch. 

Beads of sweat come out of his forehead, his knuckles turn white as his grip tightens more into the sheets. A strained breath escapes from his lips when you took all his cock into your mouth and your nose nuzzle into his pubic one, smothering your face where its small curls tickle your nostrils. 

Tears prickle around your eyes and hold your head still as you give his cock continuous suckling making an obnoxious wet sound that made him hitch his breath —- trails of the mixture of your drool and his juices escapes your mouth, coating more on his cock all the way down onto his balls.

He struggles to keep his eye awake—panting— wanting nothing more to engrave this moment into his memory. 

"The next time I see Chad,” he whispers, pressing his temple against yours as his arms envelopes around you, “I’ll have to tell him not to put you into much stress.” 

You kissed his stubble cheek, “But Ricky, you’re half the reason why I have so much work to do.” 

Worick leans back with a pout, “Even my darlin’ complains about me!” 

“Well,” you whisper  as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear,  “If you were a good boy, you wouldn’t leave so many messes behind for me to do paperwork about it.” 

“But you like me this way, don’t you…” he grins, planting a kiss on the corner of your mouth. 

You cup one of his cheeks and wink, “Why do you think, I’m still with you?” 

The corner of his lips turns up and seals your lips tenderly, holding your body firmly against his — your back hits the concrete walls of the backside building of the Police Department.  

You hum, wrapping your arms around his neck and ruffle your lover's  hair in between your fingertips.  He grins through the kiss, enjoying the taste of your sweet lipstick mixed with his tobacco and whiskey, and roams his hands around your body, giving your bottom a light squeeze. 

“Ricky,” you breathed,  “I have to go back to work.” 

“Honey!” he protests, breaking the kiss while heaving slightly and checks his watch, “We have five minutes left!” 

You pressed your finger against his plump lips, “I need to go back to work.” 

His shoulders slumps down and brings your body closer to his, “Honey....” 

 “I’ll see you later,” you kiss his lips one last time before walking away...or at least trying to do so. He tightens his grip around your figure making harder to break free, “Worick....” 

A cloud of sadness paints his features, “At least let me walk you back...” 

“Why are you behaving like a child? You act as if we’re not going to see each other tonight.” 

“Darlin’…”

With your eyes closed, you felt a warm kiss in the hollow of your waist. 

“Darlin’…”

You squirm on the cushioned bed as rough hands gently caresses your exposed hip and another kiss is placed onto your shoulder. 

“Darlin’…”

“…Worick.”

“Yes, I’m here,” he whispers hoarsely, now kissing your earlobe, “I’m here darlin’…” 

Little by little, you opened your eyes from your slumber and found yourself surrounded by strands of ash-blond hair. In the dim lights, you could notice your beloved boyfriend: Worick Arcangelo. He pampers your face with kisses, each one of them it is with such tenderness that you couldn't help but melt under his touch — allowing him to explore the familiarity of you that neither one can ever get tired of. 

“Ricky,” you breathed, “I was waiting for you…” 

“I know darlin',” he seals your lips in a sweet kiss, slipping a hand in between your legs, stroking your clothed cunt, “I know, but I’m here…”

“Ricky…” 

He hums. 

“It is late…”

“Honey!” he jerks his head up with a pout, “we have to finish what you started!”

A negligee adorns your figure, its see-through fabric hugs deliciously onto your body —- revealing the bareness of your most intimate areas under his hungry gaze. 

He gives your inner tigh a firm squeeze, “How do you expect me to go to bed after seeing you like this?!” 

“I was waiting for you, but…feel asleep.” 

“Something came up,”  he props an elbow next to you whilst the other envelopes around your waist and felt his body loosen, “and had to deal with that...” 

 “It’s okay, ” your eyelids drops, “You’re here…that’s all that matters…”

“Darlin’!” he rapidly cups your face with panic, “don’t go sleeping on me!”

“I’d love to Ricky, but…let’s finish this in the morning...” 

“You know how long it's been since we last slept together?!” 

“…How long?”

“Almost a week! It’s the longest we've had!” 

In his line of work, having two jobs can be challenging. Sometimes his schedule gets so full that he barely gets to see you through the day. All though, he makes the effort in calling you or stopping by, even for a brief moment…it is not enough for him. However, this week has been rough; errands and appointments came one after the other. It drove him insane, even more so when he realized he had spent more time with other women than with you. 

“That’s why I wanted to surprise you,” you mumble, leaning towards his touch. 

“Darlin’…” he whimpers softly. 

Other times he’d let you sleep — he presses his thumb into your mouth, letting the tip being moisten with your saliva and slides it down to your neck — leaving a trail of your saliva as it reaches to the valley of your breasts — But, at this moment...all he wants is you. 

“So beautiful,” he whispers, lowering the waistband of your underwear, “So damn beautiful...” 

A brush of cold air went to your cunt, low moans escapes from your lips, but to him it is a beautiful chorus that is singing loudly in his ears. With a grunt, he kisses your neck, the scent of whiskey and tobacco invades your senses as his stubble scratches your neck while his hand roams around your exposed hip, giving your bottom a firm squeeze. 

“Ricky…” you moan more loud than before. 

A rush of blood went to his cock, and sinks down in between your legs and parts them wide open with eagerness. 

“Ricky I wanted to please you—” 

“It’s okay, let me take care of you,” he coos, feeling his mouth watering at the glorious sight of your cunt. 

“Ricky! —”

He seals his lips around your cunt in a slobbering and wet kiss, your breath hitches as he buries his face deeper and deeper into your folds and felt the pad of his tongue going past the ream of your walls with ease. Your fingers grasps onto his hair and fist them, smothering him even more into your cunt and he moans with glee. 

Tears prickles around your eyes whilst his tongue swirls into your sensitive walls, hitting in you in the right places with such precision that made your back arch. He grips onto your hips, holding them in place for dear life so that his lips would not break apart from the vice that is far intoxicating than cigarettes: your cunt. 

“Ngh—Worick!” 

He furrows his brows, and swirls his tongue around your bud of pleasure and sucks on it...hard.  

“Ricky!” 

Oh, to be surrounded by you it is a pleasure that he will never takes for granted. With a sharp inhale through his nose, he sucks in your juices and slides a finger underneath his chin and begins to scissor. 

Oh, there it is. More and more of your juices begins to overflow past the pad on his tongue. A line forms in between his brows and starts to suckle harder and harder. 

A mix of incoherent moans and cries came louder than the last, tears slides past your cheeks while shaking your head from side to side. His grunts vibrate heavily through your whole body making your knees buckle. 

“Darlin’ where yer goin’?”

Arthur’s powering presence rapidly came at your side, casting a shadow over your limping figure as you walk through the camp or rather…dragging your legs to do so. 

Heat evaporates on your skin as the rays of the sun boils your face, elaborating breaths begin to break from your lips. A line forms in between your brows whilst Arthur’s rough hand gently holds your hip. 

“I just wanna,” you gasp, curling your hands into a fist, loathing how your voice has turned out to be weak rather than recollected. A bead of sweat runs past your clammy forehead, your nails sinks into your palm at the familiar cramp that has ignited through your lower body, “I just…wanna walk…tired of…sittin’ aroun’.” 

Arthur winces at your tone, regardless the countless time he’s heard it, he’s  never going to get used to it. He squeezes your hip, holding still by his side while distancing  of the bustling sounds of the camp until is replaced by the  gentle waves of the lake. 

Against your will, you leaned towards him, allowing him to hold more of you when you’re the one who wanted to do it by your own accord. One after the other, sharp pain palpitates from within, the weight of his strong arm adds pressure as it fully encircles around your waist until his fingers rests on the edge of your lower abdomen. 

Grunts begin to surge but you hold it in your throat, your curled hand starts to tremble not knowing whether it’s from rage, the pain or this dammed heat. 

“A woman,” your tongue runs past your bottom lip, “cannot get…their morning walk…aroun’ here no more?” 

Arthur takes a sharp inhale through the nose, “It’s just…I get worried that’s all.”

His green-blue eyes travels around your figure, taking notice of your will to keep walking in spite of everything — moving your crippling body through this heat — the hairs are glued onto your forehead, sweat emerging from your damp shirt, and—

His brows furrows at the sight of your trembling curled hand that is now gripping onto your long skirt. A curtain of your hair fell onto your face, he brushes a strand behind your ear. The sun soaked you completely, you were biting onto your bottom lip while panting through your teeth with squinted eyes. 

You didn’t stop walking, you continued. 

With no complaints. 

And it hurt him. 

It felt like yesterday when he heard the news months ago about your accident. It was supposed to be a day like any other, a heist, a robbery at some rich folk party. Trelawny and Hosea had convinced you to  infiltrate  in order to obtain information  and potentially rob some jewellery. 

It wasn’t the first time you had done it. 

Nothing ever happened when you did it. 

Until some drunk rich feller invited you to his carriage because he wanted to show you his mansion that was nearby.

And you accepted it. 

After all he was the main target that Trewlawny and Hosea talked about. 

You were supposed to get some papers, rob some damn jewellery and leave.

Instead a heavy pour of rain fell that unfaithful night when a landslide crashed on the carriage and consequently had fallen on a small cliff; leaving you with a great damage on your body and the driver, the horses and the rich feller: dead. 

Arthur kisses your temple, tasting the saltiness of your sweat on his lips. It reassures to his heart that you’re still alive, that you’re still with him and not buried ten feet underground. 

Through the blurry woods a log came into view, you scratch on your thigh with a hiss at the overwhelming burning sensation that has gotten hotter than ever; part of you wanted to sit down and take a rest, but another part wanted to prove that you can still walk even with this new unwanted body of yours. 

“Fuck!” you shriek, tripping over the ground. 

Arthur quickly hold your body steadily, and looked down to see a small rock peeking outside of your skirt. You grab onto Arthur’s waist, the base of your knuckles turns ghostly white onto his leather belt. A trail of strained breaths came past your lips, pulsating sensations spikes over your body more stronger than the last.

A wash of relieve came over him at the sight of a log nearby, he dips his arms underneath your legs and carries you in a bridal style. 

“I gotchu, sweetheart,” his lips presses against your temple, “I gotchu…”

Tears prickles around the corner of your ears, the pain has consummated from inside out. You hid into the crook of his neck and grasp tightly onto his wide shoulder to ground you from the only source that centers your pitiful new life — the powerful, the almighty, the dangerous outlaw that is your friend, your confidante, your caretaker, and your lover: Arthur Morgan. 

“Ow...” you couldn’t help but to whimper weakly, “Ow...”

“I’m here sweetheart,” he continues to kiss your temple, striding as light, “I’m here sweetheart, I’m here…”

Tears slide past your cheeks as he sits you on top of the log, despite the swift motion being the gentleness as ever it is still too much for your damned body to handle. You cradle your face into your hands and wept from everything — the pain, your body, the heat, and your pitiful attempt to prove that you’re still useful but it failed as a reminder of your new life. 

Arthur’s soul wrenched while sitting besides you. He encapsules your shaking form wishing he could take each one of your pain away. Sounds of your hiccup fills in the air, you press your face against his shirt, wetting its material with your tears whilst your nails sinks into his waist as he caresses your back gently. 

He took everything in — you soak his shirt while you cry harder, your nails digging further into his flesh — but, he didn’t care as long it made you feel better…even if it’s for a small moment. 

“Why?” you sob, “Why haven’t you left me yet?” 

He raises a brow before he could reply, you lift your chin and his breath hitched. A taint of flush covers your face while a waterfall of tears streams down your cheeks without ceasing as an intense fire ignites in your gaze that he has never seen before.

“Why?!” you thunder, clutching onto the collar of his neck, “Why!! I ain’t the same woman that you courted over! Look at me! Look how I turned! I ain’t the same!” you punch on his chest, again and again as tears flies around, “Why the fuck you didn’t leave me yet!” Why you want to be with a woman as useless as me!” 

“Why?!” you shook on his shoulders and managed to scratch on his chest. He tries to stop you, but you push him away harder, “Why?! Why?!—”

Forcefully, he cups your face in his hands, “‘Cause I love you!” 

A lump forms on your throat within deep breaths, you realized what have you done — his hair is disheveled, his wrinkled shirt damp with your tears, and his broad chest exposed with red scratches that reached to his neck.

“‘Cause…I love you,” he coos now softly, wiping your tears away with his thumbs “ ‘n I ain’t goin’ to leave you…”

“What a fool…” you mumble, shutting your glossy eyes, gently shaking your head from side to side, “What a fool…” 

“Darlin’ look at me…” 

Between deep breaths, you slowly open your eyes and melt under his softening expression. 

“I ain’t goin’ to leave you. We’re in this together, y’hear?” 

You hold onto his wrists, “Oh, Arthur…” 

The first thing you saw when you woke up was Arthur. The person who has been there with you in this process has been Arthur. The person who always seeks out the best treatment and doctors has been Arthur. From the moment you get up to the second you go to bed Arthur has always been there for you. To a such point, that he has gone in arguments with Dutch for not going on many missions just to be there with you. 

“Y’know,” you absentmindedly draw circles around your medical corset, the rough plaster gliding smoothly under your finger tips. A habit that you’ve gone used to since being banded months ago.

Arthur hums in reply, laying carefully besides you, wrapping himself under the sheets. 

“There’s the girls that can look after me when yer…gone,” you mutter, remembering the exchange of blows from earlier between him and Dutch about you…again. 

Arthur stares at you intently and seals your lips in a sweet kiss, “Yer always my priority…” 

You threw yourself into his arms and wept from the devotion he has demonstrated during this time, including moments like this, when in the midst of agony, deep inside of you is still fortunate to have Arthur by your side and that he hasn't left you despite of everything. 

“Oh, Arthur,” you breathed on his neck, “Oh, Arthur. I’m so sorry…this has been too much…”  

“S’okay, honey…” he strokes your back and kisses your cheek tenderly, “We’re in this together…” 

The scent of tobacco and whiskey swirls your senses as a chorus of birds flies past by, he shuts his eyes closed, feeling his body feel at ease with yours. His strong arms were curled around your back in such gentile way that he is afraid he might break you.

He should’ve gone with you that night, there’d a chance, just a chance that…none of this would’ve happened to you.

“If I would’ve turned out this way…” you hiccup, “that accident…might as well finished me on the spot…”

He presses his lips in a thin line, remembering how far you’ve come and how long there’s still left in your recovery — he hasn’t meet someone as strong as you are.

The bridge of your nose presses hard against his neck, breathing in small puff through your stuffed nostrils, “So sick ‘n tired of goin’ to these damned doctors…all of ‘em says the same damned thing…useless…all of ‘em.”

“W-We’ll,” he manages to speak, his strong voice breaking, “we’ll find somethin’…together.”

He has lost count the times he has taken you to a doctor where the treatment has been futile. As much as he hates to admit out loud, whenever he hears of a specialist he has little to cero expectation from them; proving once more the indigestible fact that he has to force himself to face: that you’ll end up like this for the rest of your life.

Yet, he can’t bring himself to give up, not when he’s witnessing your pain every single day.

“How?” you drown in your own tears, the crippling pain ignites down to your feet, “How? It is useless…so useless…”

“We have to try…at least,” his voice lowering to a whisper, “I heard a folk in Saint Denis—”

You groan out loud, breaking apart from him. He noticed how your shoulders have slumped down, and took his hand to play with his fingers. He licks his lips, debating to whether or not continue, instead choose to raise your hand to kiss on top of it:

“Y'know, I mean it...”

“Mean what...”

“Loving you...'n this won't change anythin'.”

Silence erupts in between, the two of you stare at each other’s eyes, knowing damn well the experiences that have lived together throughout this process.