Work Text:
Joshua Barrow was a slimy, good for nothing outlaw. A regular gunslinger. He was unsavory, likely the worst man you had ever met.
And you were doing his laundry.
He had latched onto the gang like some sort of noxious parasite, worming his way into a bank job that Dutch had been setting up for the past several weeks. He had likely blackmailed Dutch and Hosea, threatening to reveal the location of camp to the law if they didn’t give him a cut of the profits.
His time with the gang would be ending soon, and everyone would be eternally grateful. He had been drinking all your booze, eating all your provisions, and dirtying every plate and rag for you and the girls to clean up after him.
You ran his trousers over the washboard, wiping sweat from your brow and trying to ignore the ache in your shoulders from hunching over the basin.
Barrow was leaned against a nearby wagon, watching you work. He spent hours each day following around you and the girls, making horrible remarks and letting his eyes linger for far too long.
You had become his favorite target, likely because you belonged to Dutch. Barrow seemed like just the type to find conquest in taking another man’s woman. You were nothing more to him than a game. He wanted to get under Dutch’s skin.
So you spent all your days brushing off his comments and trying to ignore his obsessive gaze. Dutch was far too busy planning the job for you to bother him, which meant Hosea, John, and Arthur were also constantly at his side. You had your own responsibilities to attend to: helping Susan and Pearson keep everyone fed and clothed was no easy feat.
The only time you got to spend with Dutch would be late at night. You would fall asleep almost immediately, exhausted from your work, while he would stay up by lantern light and read. You had hardly had a conversation in days.
But that was the nature of this life. You were used to being split up on jobs or hunting trips or too busy to see each other. It was something you both had known your whole lives.
Barrow just had a way of making you feel unclean and unsafe, even in your own camp surrounded by your own family. You had been plagued by fear, constantly checking over your shoulder to see if he was there. You wouldn’t even go down to the river to bathe unless Susan and Karen were with you, so afraid that he would follow you if you went anywhere alone.
And now you were washing this man’s clothes. He hadn’t stopped leering at you, clearly enjoying the view of you leaning into the wash basin just to clean his belongings. He flicked ash off the end of his cigarette and raised an eyebrow. “You’re quite the lady, aren’t you?”
You ignored him. The last thing you wanted was to play into his games. He was a manipulative wretch, and you wished that he would disappear forever.
“You cook, you clean, you sew… you suck cock. Is there anything you can’t do?” He shifted his weight, and you couldn’t help but track every motion out of the corner of your eye.
“You must be a mighty good fuck,” he didn’t relent. “Not every girl gets to warm the bed of the great Dutch van der Linde.” He cocked his head, pretending to think on it. “Or maybe they do? Who knows how many women he beds when he disappears. He is a sinner after all. Adultery is right there next to theft and murder in the bible.”
You were fuming, so angry your vision was white. Still, you couldn't take this man in a fight. He would kill you before you could sink your knife into him.
“Or maybe you’re the adulterer? What kind of whore hangs around this many outlaws and doesn’t sleep around? You probably give it up easy don’t you?” He was leaning in closer now, stepping forward to crouch just beside you. Your cheeks were hot and you were blinking back tears. He surely noticed.
“What about me?” he said, voice low. “Forget van der Linde. I could have you screaming on my cock.”
Someone cleared their throat nearby.
Dutch was standing just a few paces away, arms crossed and eyes burning. You didn’t think you had ever seen him this angry. Arthur and John were at his sides, hands resting on their revolvers.
Barrow immediately cowed. He turned too quick and stumbled back, falling on his ass. Dutch opened his arms to you and you ran to him, burying your face in his waistcoat as your tears fell freely. He said nothing, but you heard Barrow begging and pleading behind you. He squealed, and Arthur growled a threat.
“Come, darling,” Dutch lifted you easily. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
You heard the brush of the tent flap, the cool air inside. Dutch sat down and pulled you into his lap, cradling you as you cried.
“I’m sorry,” you whimpered.
“Sorry?” Dutch sounded confused. “Sweetheart, what do you have to be sorry about?”
“It isn’t true… what he said… I would never-”
Dutch cut you off with a kiss. “I know.” He brushed your tears away with his thumb. “I should never have let him into camp. I should never have left you alone. He’s gone now. He’s never coming back.”
You nodded. “I tried to keep away. I didn’t want him following me. I promise…”
He held you as you broke down once more. You were glad to just be close to him for the first time in days. He must have felt the same because he simply waited as you worked through your tears, kissing your temple and whispering to you. “I’m sorry. I’m going to keep you safe.” Over and over again.
At last, you were all out of tears. Dutch adjusted you on his lap, kissing you deeply. “I’ve missed you,” he gazed at you with soft, gentle eyes.
“I’ve missed you too.”
“I miss your smile,” he rubbed his hands along your sides, down to your hips and back over your ribs.
You shrugged. You were still numb from crying, overwhelmed from everything that had happened.
Then Dutch poked your side, hard enough to make you squeal and nearly fall off his lap. You grabbed his shoulders to keep yourself stable. The jab was followed by a light brush of his fingertips, tickling you through your blouse until you were squirming and laughing.
“That’s more like it,” he said, not relenting in his assault. “Daddy just wants to see you happy.”
He threw you onto the bed, skimming his fingers over your side and stomach as you cried out with laughter. “Daddy! Stop it!” you howled.
You were helpless, pinned beneath him as he teased and tickled you. He showered you in kisses, doing anything he could to keep you smiling.
“Please!” you begged, squirming and kicking beneath him. It was no use, he overpowered you easily. You were sure the entire camp could hear you, but that was likely exactly what he wanted. You flushed in embarrassment. Usually you tried to keep quiet when you were in camp, saving your… louder activities for when you had a room to yourselves.
Dutch settled his full weight on you, his hips lined up perfectly with yours. You could feel his hard cock through his trousers. He kissed along your neck and jaw, fingers stilling so he could grab at your breast. You gasped and threw your arms around his neck to pull him closer.
“I love you,” he growled in between kisses. “Don’t you forget it.” He began pulling your clothes off, rougher than you would have liked considering you did most of the mending.
You knew he was still angry about what Barrow had said. The filthy snake had accomplished just what he wanted. You would never forget his words. Even though you knew they weren’t true, the hurt would always linger.
“Daddy,” you gasped. The buttons of his waistcoat gave you far too much trouble, but you didn’t stop until his shirt was open and you could run your palms over his broad chest.
“I’m going to make sure everyone knows who you belong to,” he pressed your thighs apart, settling back so he could kiss his way down your stomach. You fisted your hands into the linen as he began to eat you out. He clearly didn’t have a mind for patience today, and you bit back your cries as he dragged his tongue over your clit again and again.
“I want to hear you.” He lightly swatted your ass. The yelp you gave seemed to spur him on, and he spanked you again.
“Dutch!” you cried, and he rewarded you by slipping two fingers into your dripping pussy. You didn’t hold back your moans. Each sound seemed to spur him on, and he dragged his fingers over just the right spot again and again. You didn’t even have it in you to think about the rest of camp when he was fucking you on his fingers. His hands were larger than yours, and the stretch was always a surprise, but he seemed to know you better than you knew yourself. He could make you come harder than you ever managed on your own.
Your back arched off the bed, one hand flying up to grip the pillow beneath your head as the other reached for him. He laced the fingers of his free hand with yours. He didn’t stop even as you came, pushing you past your orgasm until you planted a foot on his chest and pushed him back.
He watched you with a smug, satisfied grin. His face was shining with your slick, and he stroked his cock with the hand that had just been inside you.
The sight managed to rile you back up from where you were panting and brainless on the bed. You reached for him, and he didn’t hesitate a moment.
He dragged you forward by your legs, putting one of your ankles on his shoulder so he could sink all the way into you on the first thrust. You moaned, high and needy, as he filled you.
“That’s right, Darling. Only I can make you feel this good.” He pulled your hips to him, driving his cock even deeper inside. “You’re so perfect for me. I love how you feel around my cock. You take me so well.”
He pulled out and slammed his hips back into yours, fucking you into the mattress with all of his strength. You couldn’t even form words, just babbling and whining with every thrust.
Dutch leaned forward, folding you in half with your legs still hooked over his shoulders. The new angle was blinding, the best you had ever felt, and you practically screamed at the sensation. His cock hit the perfect spot on every thrust, and he was close enough that you could drag him in for a kiss.
“I want you to come for me, sweetheart. I want you to come on my cock. Are you close?” He was panting against your skin, hands digging into your thighs as he held you to the mattress beneath him.
You nodded. “More,” you gasped. “Please.”
His thumb found your clit, circling slowly at first but quicker with each stroke. He never slowed the pace of his hips, and his cock was the best thing you had ever felt. You never wanted it to end.
The orgasm caught you by surprise, washing over you all at once. Your whole body shook, and you raked you nails over Dutch’s shoulder. “Daddy!” you screamed.
Dutch groaned and the rhythm of his hips stuttered as you tightened around him. He adjusted the angle once more as he began to chase his own end, rutting his hips against yours. His cock twitched inside you as he came, rocking against your pussy as he finished deep inside you. “Fuck,” he growled.
Both of you were still for a moment, basking in the rush and catching your breath. Dutch climbed off of you and tracked down a cloth to wipe both of you down with. You watched as he pulled his shirt and waistcoat back on. He picked up your clothes off the ground and set them on the bed next to you. Reluctantly, you got dressed and tried to comb your fingers through your hair.
Dutch was fastening his gunbelt, and you lightly tugged at the leather, question evident in your eyes. He grinned and pulled you in for a kiss. “I’ve got some loose ends to tie up.” He pulled the knife from his belt, inspecting the gleaming blade.
Barrow.
He noticed you staring at the blade, and offered it to you.
“Would you like to come?”