HERS |Tris Morgan x Jack Marston |Book III of HIS Series

Epilogue I

Warning: Smut and yet another birthing scene...

A few years later

Today was the day Arthur had been quietly worrying about since he'd heard the news.

His calluses were picked raw. His nails, bitten to the bed and his legs refused to sit still whenever he sat.

Just like it had done twenty one years earlier Willard's rest had been transformed into something from a fairytale.

Candle lit lanterns cast a warm glow from the trees in the fading afternoon sun. Shadows dance across the buildings and fences as they sway in the breeze, and the smell of campfires and cooking wafts through the window and creeps through the halls, promising the feast and party that was still to come.

Outside Arthur can hear laughter, the buzz of excitement as his old family and friends come together in celebration.

"Almost ready?" you wander in, securing your earring into place and cursing when your hair tangles in the fastening.

"Not in the slightest." Arthur murmurs, fiddling with his cuff in the mirror.

His eyes flicker to yours in the reflection and you see the furrow in his brow.

"She's still too young."

Smiling at his stubbornness you wander over and slip your arm under his, staring at your shared image in the mirror. You both had aged since your own wedding day, your faces now holding permanent lines and your hair is peppered and streaked with gray.

"He'll take care of her." you reassure, resting your head against his shoulder.

Arthur can't help but smile despite himself, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. You were his rock, forever guiding him and reassuring him through every challenge. Including the trialsof parenting you had both faced. He was grateful for you, his partner, in a way that words couldn't express.

"She's gonna be fine?" He exhales slowly. He'd meant it as a statement but couldn't help the question that crept into his voice.

Turning into him you place his hands on your waist, grounding him as you loop your arms around his neck and guide his forehead to yours.

"She's going to be fine because she's smart. But also because she'll always have you if she needs you." Standing in your tiptoes you bump your nose to his. "A girl will always need her Papa."

Unable to respond with words Arthur presses his mouth to yours. Conveying his feelings in the only way he ever could, pouring himself into a kiss.

You understood entirely.

Threading your fingers in his hair you deepen the kiss, letting him pour every emotion into his actions. His worry. His panic. His fear. Seeking your warmth and comfort he quickly begins to lose himself in the kiss.

His hands begin to grip you tighter and he finds himself backing you up against the dresser.

"Arthur?" you giggle as the mood shifts.

"We have time," he murmurs against your lips.

It sounds like a plea.

I need this. Help me. Distract me.

His lips, soft yet insistent against yours, convey a hunger that matches your own, and you respond eagerly, reciprocating his ardor. The warmth of your body pressed against his sends shivers down his spine, and he groans into you.

He knows he shouldn't be doing this.

Not now.

But he can't help himself, he never could with you. Your body grounds him, keeping his head quiet when he needs it most. And he needed it more than ever right now.