Work Text:
You and Arthur hadn’t known each other too long. You’d go on heists together every once in a while, or resupply the camp in the nearest town together, but it’s not like you were friends or anything. He seemed to be a nice man, save for the fact that he was a gunslinger, but just because he didn’t fit in modern society didn’t mean he was a bad man. He was good with horses and loved his dog, which gave you all of the proof you needed.
“Your guns clean?”
You snapped out of your head, regaining consciousness of the real world that passed you by. You looked up at Arthur, who was standing only a foot in front of you.
“Uh, no, I haven’t yet, sorry, I’ll do it right now.” You replied with an awkward chuckle.
He held out his hand, a small tube of gun oil nestled in his palm. You reached up to take it, your fingers brushing his when you grabbed it. He was warm, very, very warm, despite the cold weather, and his skin had that rough, yet smooth texture that had you thinking about how they’d feel around your hips. Your eyes briefly widened at the thought, and you quickly pushed it away, even as your gaze darted towards his crotch for a moment.
“Are you always this nervous, or are you just scared of me?” Arthur joked.
You laughed, maybe a bit too loud.
“I think it’s safe to say I am a little bit high strung around most people.” You replied in a quiet tone, one corner of your mouth turning upwards in an embarrassed smile.
“Well, get to gun cleanin’, nervous nelly, ‘else I’ll be savin’ your ass in due time.”
You nodded, pulling out your pistol from your holster. You took a cloth and poured a bit of oil over it, cleaning off the grime and gunpowder residue. You repeated this process with your bolt action rifle and carbine repeater, checking for any other damage or jamming of the parts.
You made your way to your horse, saddle resting on the hitching post. You threw the saddle blanket over his withers and back, then the saddle. You grabbed the cinch and put the latigo through the slot, pulling upwards. You tied it up and grabbed your bridle off of the horn. You slung your arm in between your horse’s ears, bit in the other hand, coaxing his mouth open. He took the bit, shaking his head as he adjusted to the headstall. You buckled the throatlatch, threw your reins over his neck, and got on.
You urged him to a trot, catching up with Arthur who was already riding out of camp.
“So was you plannin’ on waitin’ for me or…?” You asked with a smile.
He smiled back.
“I knew you were comin’. I woulda stopped if you hadn’t shown up by the time I got to the main road.”
You stayed to his right, keeping a fair distance from his mare, who seemed to take pleasure in having her personal space. The mission as of now was to intercept a stagecoach heading towards the nearest bank, filled with gold from the remaining claims that still had veins being mined. You and Arthur had done this a few times before, but this would be a heavily guarded stagecoach. One wrong move, and one of you would have their head blown off.
Arthur dismounted his horse, leading her to the bushes. You followed suit.
“They’re comin’. See there, in the distance?”
Arthur pointed and you squinted your eyes.
“I, sir, am not one for good vision I fear.” You whispered.
You had nearly made it to the bushes before a sharp pain pierced your shoulder, followed by the sound of a rifle firing. You found yourself staring up at the sky, feeling your heart roaring in your ears.
“Shit, shit, shit!” Arthur yelped under his breath.
He was practically on top of you, a piece of cloth in his hand. You cried out as he packed it into the bullet hole, only for his other hand to press over your mouth to stop you from screaming.
“Can you use your other arm to hold that down?” He asked, eyes darting from where the shot came from and back to you.
You nodded, holding it down despite the pain that had your vision blurring. He helped you up, getting you onto your horse and slapping its rump. You held on to the horn, letting your steed gallop back towards camp. The sound of hoofbeats behind you let you know Arthur was following. Bullets whistled past and embedded into the ground beside you. At least the sniper was a bad one. You felt yourself becoming dizzy with blood loss and the shock of getting shot, promptly passing out right when your horse turned into the camp.
~
You awoke to Arthur sitting next to you at your bedside, an cigar in between his fingers. You moved to sit up, but his cigar-less hand rested on your chest, pushing you back down. Your tent was closed, and nobody was around. Arthur put his cigar down and produced a bottle of whiskey.
“This’ll help with the pain.” He murmured.
You shook your head.
“I don’t drink.”
“Fair enough.” He said, tossing it onto the ground.
You turned your head to look directly at him. His blue eyes caught yours, and they softened ever so slightly. His thumb lazily moved back and forth across your chest, and when you looked at his hand, he took it off of you.
“Sorry- I-“
“I don’t mind.” You whispered.
Even in the dim light of the singular lantern in the tent, you could still see his face turning red. He took a deep breath, eyes flitting around before leaning in quickly, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. He tasted like tobacco and steak and honey. Before you could get more of that taste, Arthur got up to leave quickly, but turned back around to face you when you reached out to grab his wrist. He folded immediately, dropping to his knees at the bed, resting his head on the thin mattress. Those eyes. You felt the strain in your slacks as your blood began to flow southward. Arthur slowly looked to the side, then looked back at you.
“You really feel that way ‘bout me?”
You smiled.
“There’s no point in lying…” You breathed.
He got up once more, straddling your hips. Arthur leaned forward, making sure not to put any pressure where you’d been shot. He leaned downwards and began pressing gentle kisses against your neck and throat. You let out a little hum of pleasure, your hand sliding down his back. You moved it down, hooking your fingers inside of his waistband, your fingers brushing against soft skin. He nearly whimpered in your ear when you pushed deeper into his jeans, your hand wrapping around his cock. He panted, pulling back to look at you.
“This is okay, right?” You asked.
“Mhm.. I just wanna to see your handsome face…” Arthur cooed, grinding into your hand.
His words slurred in a lovedrunk manner, like all of the blood in him had rushed down to his dick and was a drought in his brain. He was too big to jerk off in his pants, so you let go of him to fumble with the button.
You pulled them down just enough for his cock to spring free, already dripping with precum. Wrapping your fingers back around his shaft, you pumped your hand up and down, his hands gripping your hips as if holding on for dear life. He tilted his head back, reaching up to run his fingers through his dirty blond hair, a low moan brewing in his chest. His ass ground against your crotch, sending you closer to heaven with each roll of his hips. He was close, and so were you. His mouth hung open, though every time Arthur felt a moan coming on, he bit his lip and exhaled sharply. After all, the two of you were in the camp, and you didn’t want to disturb anyone.
Arthur moved a couple of inches back, looking down. With both hands, he pulled your own pants down and managed to sit down onto your cock with only your precum as lubricant. You couldn’t help but arch your back, cursing his name, and came inside of him. He spurted his own cum onto your stomach, tightening around your cock as he did so. Sweat slicked his body and yours, his glistening chest heaving. You had completely forgotten about your shoulder at this point, the only thing on your mind being the fact that you were inside of Arthur Morgan. He leaned down to kiss you, pulling himself nearly off of you, then sitting back down. You rested your hand on the back of his hip, gently guiding him up and down. Both of you were trembling, staring at each other with mirrored shock in your eyes.
Arthur buried his face in the crook of your neck, little moans leaving his lips. You liked how gentle he wanted to be, how much noise he made, however quiet he was about it. Maybe he’d be rougher, more sex-crazed later on, but you didn’t really care as he started to fall asleep on top of you.
He began snoring, and you pushed him a bit to the side to throw your blanket over him and yourself, closing your eyes and entangling your fingers in his hair. You entered the dream world soon after him.