Archive of Our Own

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."