Dutch's Daughter [[RDR2 Arthur Morgan x OC]]

chapter 44; morgans

[A/N] ~ Hey everyone! Another two chapter day as I'm going to be spending a few weeks in my home state, Wyoming, so I may not publish a new chapter for awhile. So here is a hot and spicy chapter to tide you over until then! 😉

BY THE WAY, are there any Red Dead Online players out there? If so, we should posse up! 💕

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He watched her lips part as he moved in closer. Her eyes widened slightly as she glanced behind her, nerves rising as though they hadn't danced this dance a thousand times before.

When his mouth closed over hers, she moaned. The sound was soft, just like the feel of her lips. Everything about her was soft. Her curves that pressed against his chest, the material of her dress under his hand as he stroked her back, the way her mouth opened at his gentle insistence.

Everything was the exact opposite from the first time they found themselves alone in the woods. They had been hurried, eager to taste without taking the time to savor one another. But much has changed since then.

He lost himself in her. Buried in her, he drowns in her sweet softness. The scent of her perfume mixed with the evergreen made her taste sweet and nostalgic. He breaks the kiss to whisper something in her ear, cupping her face in his hands as he peppers her face with tender kisses.

"I'm so in love with you..." his mouth softens into a smile, thumb stroking the right side of her face.

It was the first and only words spoken during the night. The rain had first started as a light sprinkle but soon turned to heavy sheets of water pouring down on them. Soaked, they retreated to a nearby cave. It was shallow and dank but would serve it's purpose of privacy for one night.

Arthur started a fire. Charlotte poured drinks. Before long, they were warm, drunk and only slightly damp. Arthur watched her face closely, the flames dancing between them.

Stretching out a hand, he fiddles with the top button of her blouse, undoing it. It falls open, exposing the plump curves of her round breasts. He plans to take his time, to memorize every last bit of her.

His hands wondered over her soothingly as he eases her back flat onto the ground. She let out a sound that might have been a whimper, might have been his name. Then he braced a hand beside her head, fingers twining in her raven hair, while the other removed the remnants of her wedding outfit.

As Arthur tasted her, he laughed against her slick skin while her hoarse cries of his name went unheard in the pounding rain. She moved, hips undulating, begging him silently as his tongue flicked that one spot. Arthur takes her mouth again as her high washes over her.

Her undoing was his own and he rose over her again, guiding himself into her. At the first nudge of him, she relaxed again, his name rolling off her tongue in a delicious moan. He slides in with gentle, rolling thrusts, filling her inch by inch.

She forgot about the prices on their heads, the law searching for them in these very woods, her father and Micah's wickedness and her now husbands ailment. She forgot everything but their names.

When Arthur was seated deep within her, trembling with restraint as he let her adjust, she lifted her hands to his face, wind and rain roaring around them. There were no words in his eyes; nor in hers, either.

Words did not do it justice. Not in any language.

He leaned in, claiming her mouth as he began to move and they let go entirely. She might have been crying or it might have been his own tears on her face.

She dragged her hands down his powerful back, over scars earned in fights and terrors from the past. As his thrusts turned deeper, she dug her fingers in, dragging her nails, claiming him, marking him. His hips slammed home at the blood she drew and she arched, baring everything to him. For him and only him, forever.

They'd fallen asleep lying together in the damp dirt, tangled in each others arms. It was pitch black when Arthur awoke, the fire a pile of smoking orange coals. The night was freezing and he turned to look at his bare newlywed wife, covered in goosebumps, shivering at the loss of his embrace. He tosses a few logs onto the coals before retrieving the blankets from their pack, draping them over their bodies. Pulling her back into him, he drifts back to sleep without ever waking her.

In the morning, they finish two pots of coffee over the rekindled fire before packing up, wasting as much time as possible. The ride home is long and slow and spent side by side, still tangled in sloppy morning kisses.