POWER & CONTROL || JOHN MARSTON

POWER & CONTROL

John Marston x Vampire!Reader

One shot || MDNI|| 18+

Pronouns used|| She/Her/Hers

Disclaimer: I do not own the canon character of John Marston or any of the canon characters or canon lore of the games.

CW: dub-con, vampire, seduction, kissing, femdom, dom/sub elements, fingering, blood, oral fixation, saliva play, finger sucking, sadism, teasing, praising biting, riding, unprotected sex, breeding, one night stand!

Author's note: Based upon the vampire Easter egg located in Saint Denis! The following piece would take place in the year of 1896 when John Marston left the gang for a year, John and Abigail aren't seeing each other in this story.  This was made just for fun! Enjoy!

With the intense sun now tucked behind the horizon of Saint Denis ,the environment was more bearable, the airy promises of the summer wind and the cool blows of the star dusted sky provided relief from the sweltering atmosphere.
John Marston had found himself walking the outskirts of Saint Denis, splattered in crimson and dusted in dirt. His scarred face contorted in dissatisfaction and frustration.
A living testimony of an unsuccessful stage coach robbery.
His silver spurs jingled with every drag of the foot, the ill fated events of the day played over and over in his mind like some sort of twisted moving picture, every frame mocking and taunting the now lone gunslinger.
John's masochist haze faded at the sound of a sheet of water being gently disturbed by the night's breeze.
The water was glimmering against the pale moonlight, the serene sight whispered promises of relief from the day's scorching heat and failures.
Despite the tempting invitation, John was faced with the truth of the matter that no matter how beautiful or serene any body of water was, it would not change the fact of John's inability to swim.
John let out a huff at the realization that he would just have to enjoy the water from the shore.
Pulling his horse to a halt, his boots hitting the soft soil.
'Just to wash up.' He reasoned to himself, inching closer to the calm body of water.
He squatted down between the hard packed soil and bushes, rolling up his sleeves to reveal his blood streaked forearms. The water kissed his sun burnt flesh as he washed away the proof of the day's failed mission.
Amongst the delicate decibels of the crickets playing their tune and the hum of the water hitting the shifting terrain, John's ears were filled by the shrill of his companion 'Old boy' who now held his head high with his ears pricking towards the end of the river bank. John tensed, his hand swiftly placed over his cattleman revolver, silently moving to see what or who was on the other end.
Through the bushes, John could see the sublime silhouette of a woman waist deep in the water, each sleepy movement she made in the body of water revealed the supple nature of her curves.
The once headstrong outlaw felt his breath getting caught in his throat.
She was swimming innocently, probably in an attempt of cooling off from the wrath of the summer sun, unconscious herself to what hazards the darkness held.
John composed himself, he knew better than to do what he was doing.
'Look away.' he told himself, his efforts in taking controlled steps back were thwarted by the weight of his calfskin boot snapping a branch. The sharp sound startled the doe-like woman, her head sharply turning over to look at the source of the sound.
The palettes of shame, embarrassment and guilt painted his cheek bones in blood rushed reds and west sunset pinks. John made haste towards his horse, looping the leather reins tightly over his whitening knuckles and pulling both himself and old boy away from the body of water.
The small seed of curiosity planted at the bottom of his stomach had fully bloomed , giving John a crop of foolish courage. Sheepishly, John turned his head back, silently begging that the woman had disappeared into the dead of night or even better pulled to the bottom of the lake.
John's dark brown eyes were met with nothing more than the lonesome sight of the peaceful lake. The liminal state caused his mind to rake up the stories he had heard along the way from lone travelers and his fellow gang members alike. Tales of Saint Denis and their blood sucking demons who awaited in the shadows to lure in innocent men, women and children to feast upon their flesh and bone.
The realistic nature of the brutish John Marston begged him to ground himself into reality of the situation.
'Those ain't nothing but stories to keep them youngins from disobeyin'.' Uncle's voice panged out in the cowboy's subconscious.
Those comforting words came to a godspeed halt as his horse came to a standstill, neighing and huffing peacefully.
"Don't you stop now ole' boy.'"
John's baritone voice trembled at the sudden realization of how drastic the temperature had dropped around him. Petrified, John stiffly moved his eyes in the direction that his horse was leaning into, witnessing the silky apparition of the woman who was cooing and soothing the skittish horse with lullabies and gentle caresses of the hand.
In the blink of an eye, the tip of John's revolver was pointed at the temple of her face, he could feel his heart thump like a hammer against cloth at how sudden and drastic his movements were.
"There's no need for that." Her tongue coated in venom as she spoke, the gun metal of his weapon and her eyes glittered in the same manner. "You wouldn't want to spook him, would you?" She coquettishly asked as Old Boy calmly paced away, grazing away at the wildflower and dew soaked grass as he pleased.
John went slack jawed at the exquisite realization that the woman was completely nude in front of him, her skin luminous in the summer's night humidity.
Her beauty was as radiant and unapologetic as the summer's heat.
The vigor of the situation swept into the cotton of his shirt, leaving him drenched in a blanket of perspiration and his pants now feeling pathetically tight.
"'The hell is this, huh?" He barked out, his stance firm and tall like an oak tree. "You 'gon rob me?"
She held her long fingers to her mouth, suppressing the laughter at hearing how primal his nature was. "I'm not interested in material pleasures. Not anymore at least...I was thinking more of carnal indulgences..." She said..
He could feel himself descend into a sort of madness at witnessing the way she gracefully swayed around him,entranced at hearing her voice that was sweet as the melodies played on Dutch's gramophone.
In that momental, a primal urge arose in his spirit. He yearned for nothing more than to be shattered like china under her touch, to be in ruins under the weight of her thighs with her hands wrapped around his neck and be at her beckon call.
Unconsciously, the man was being pulled into her riptide, not realizing that the two now stood mere inches away from each other.
Her body was frigid to the touch as she grazed herself against him, tracing her blade-like fingernails on the intricate workings of his veins protruding from his forearms, pumping full of red hot life.
The sensation sent hell flames throughout his lower abdomen and through his mushroomed tip of his cock.
"Are you with someone?" She asked, tilting her head to the side, her feline eyes longing for his response.
The gunslinger was losing himself with every passing second of the woman's presence, he hopelessly racked through possible responses he could provide, his mind faintly deciphering Abigail and the cherubesque boy he left behind in the midst of it all.
"No.." He hummed out, shaking his head. "-No." He reiterated, lowering his gun back to the leather holster.
"Perfect." She grinned, wasting no time in hooking over the elastic of his suspenders. With a kiss as soft as the skin of a phantom, it was the promise of what the rest of the night held.
Under the gaze of the moon and the watch of the river, the two tangled themselves in a cacophony of flesh, panting and moaning at hands touching and groping flesh. The woman had managed to bring the wild outlaw down to his knees, vulgarly swishing her fingers around the bundle of nerves tucked between the lips of her cunt. John kneeled in bare agony, whimpering and whining to get a chance to please her.
The woman breathlessly laughed at his bellowing and belly aching. Moaning softly as she settled her back against the pile of large rocks while spreading her thighs further apart from each other, her pussy glistening and ever so inviting to John Marston.
"Aw, poor thing." She cooed out, her carmine lips forming into a pout that mocked John's flustered look on his scarred face. Her knee pressed against his forehead, "Do you want a taste?"
John nodded, "Yes ma'am." His words aligned with every throb his cock made against her shin.
Her long eyelashes fluttered in awe as she cupped his cheeks with the sole grasp of her hand, the deadliest man of the west was now in the cup of her palms. "Stick your tongue out." She commanded, looking down at John with the same glimmer that a predator has in its eyes looking over at its prey.
The woman's words rapturously lit his brain up in euphoric charges of electricity, his lips parted in revealing his tongue so eager and willing to taste her arousal.
Droplets of her slick fell from her fingertips and trickled down to the hood of his tongue. She watched in wicked delight as he lapped, sucked and greedily pulled his mistress's fingers further into his mouth with every flex of the tongue.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk." She flicked her tongue in disapproval at how crass he had become under her provocative nature, shushing him and soothing him with sloppily kisses. "No need for that, there's more where that came from..." She whispered, pushing him flat to the earthy ground with the knob of her knees.
"If you earn it, of course"
It was painful how gorgeous she looked perched over him with her legs spread apart, catching glimpses of how her wetness warmly coated over the coils of pubic hair that adorned the top of her pelvis. Any form of self preservation and common sense that John had was long gone, the concepts seemed nothing more than mere babblings from the books that his eccentric leader engrossed himself in.
He watched with his mouth agape as she sank herself down on his erection, letting out a hiss at how tight her cunt felt against his swollen cock. His hands gripped the fat of her hips as a form of bracing himself for her impact. The two made lust hooded eye contact with each other, letting out airy moans and relieved sighs as she filled her cervix completely with him.
"Look at you, I haven't even moved yet." The deadly little demoness condemned at hearing the obscene squelching of his precum mixed with her slick gathering around the base of his dick.
John was the point of no return, his eyes were blown wide open with desperation and desire, "I'm sorry ma'am" He breathed out. "Pleeease, I can take it." His words formed into a plea, his eyebrows scrunched up while looking above him.
"That's what I like to hear, darling." She tittered out, pressing a kiss to his forehead and sliding down to his jawline before leaning her body forward, anchoring her legs into the soil.
Her hips rocked back and forth in a heartbreakingly slow and deep pace.
She was a sadist, a pretty one too.
She quivered in excitement at how she reduced John into half the man he was when she first had laid eyes on him. Perhaps it was her own doing or the universe or whatever higher power there was that brought him to her.
His head fell back from her treacherous pace, his hair falling into the hallows of his cheeks as he moaned out in absolute euphoria as she sweetly fucked herself on him.
The exposed neck provided an opportunity for her to reach her peak before he could reach his. In a swift motion, she leaned forward, her nipples now pressed up against his firm chest.
John appeared to be nothing more than a moth attracted to a flame, too overstimulated and enthralled with how his cock was being pushed in and out with every sway of the hip she made. Too far away from this reality to notice her pulled back lips that revealed a pair of long and sharp canines.
In her pure instinct similar to a female praying mantis, her fangs pierced the large artery at the rook of his girthy neck.
John's breath hitched, letting out a tattered groan as she began to feed off of him. A puddle of saliva and blood stained his cotton shirt, his proud and strong voice reduced to nothing more than shameless moans and wisps of air.
The gratification from the intense, other worldly sex and the bite alone was too much for him
She had loved him at a god's speed, too passionate for man to understand but easy to consume.
His eyes rolled to the back of his head, his body flinching and sputtering as his tip sprayed thick and opaque loads of cum into her pussy.
The woman used the back of her hand to wipe away at remnants of her messy feeding, looking down at where their bodies joined and back over at John Marston who donned flared nostrils and a tear and sweat soaked face.
The kisses placed on his face and honey sweet praises almost seemed condescending, but it's exactly what the black sheep needed to hear.
"You took me so well, love. Do you think you could do it again?" She asked, lifting herself off of him and kneeling down beside him, feverishly eyeing the gash at his neck.
"Yes...oh Lord, yes." He panted, putting on a brave face.

The bright beams of the sun shined into John's eyes, stirring him from the deep slumber he was in. His head felt big and bulbous and his body felt lighter, it was such a strange and foreign sensation, one he wished to possibly have one more time. He ran a hand into his hair while replaying the night over in his head.
His eyes loomed in search of the woman, only to be met by the cold hard ground and his satchel pulled wide open.
"Shit." He groaned out, propping himself onto the pile of rocks.
The woman had done something John swore no woman would ever do, she had left him craving for her embrace.