Excerpt from 21st Century Girl, Chapter 19: Faith and Devotion
Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Modern!Reader
Info: AFAB Reader, Second Person Perspective, No Y/N, Outdoor Sex, Cunnilingus, Enthusiastic Consent
A/N: I thought tumblr might like my attempt at writing smut (after over a year of no writing smut (yikes!))… Context isn’t really necessary to enjoy it, I think, so it’s about 1/2 of the chapter. If you like it, consider reading the whole thing on AO3!
Bandit doesn’t seem to enjoy the extra fabric of your skirt draped over his rear. Too bad for him, because you didn’t have any clean trousers or jeans left. You’ll make it up to him later. You’re sure he’ll forgive you when you pull out the sugar cubes.
Arthur didn’t take long at all to come back from the bath, just as he told you he would. On one hand, you feel like he could have allowed himself to enjoy the luxury a little longer, but on the other hand, you’re glad to have left the Parlour House. Sitting there alone was nerve-wracking, to say the least. Because without Arthur next to you to ward off any unwanted attention, it meant people were just openly staring at you.
So you’re taking the “scenic route” back to camp. Just as an extra precaution.
The clip-clops of the hooves of your horses provide the backdrop of noise to your conversation. That, and the cacophony of insects.
“The vibes in there were rancid,” you say with your nose crinkled. “I don’t know if it’s just me, but I feel like we’ve outstayed our welcome here in Rhodes.”
“You might be right,” Arthur says, mulling it over. “But I don’t think Dutch wants to move on until we find that gold.”
“I love the idea of stealing money from racist ex-slavers, but I’m honestly starting to think they’re not as loaded as Dutch and Hosea think they are.”
Arthur gives you a half-shrug. It looks like he’s not sure what to say about the whole situation either. “Don’t go worryin’ too much about it.”
You huff. “I will worry as long as you have to put your neck on the line out there. Especially if chances are that there’s no “big payout” at the end of it.”
“Aww,” Arthur says with a grin. “So you wouldn’t worry ‘bout me riskin’ my neck if there is a big payout?”
“That’s not what I said,” you say, playfully trying to kick him from Bandit’s saddle. Scout seems to see it coming and steps aside before the tip of your boot can make contact with Arthur’s leg. Arthur chuckles at your failed attempt at physically chastising him, praising his own horse for being so clever.
The rest of your ride continues with more idle chatter and laughter. You’ve spent so much time glued to each other’s sides, and yet you still haven’t run out of things to talk about. Sometimes, though, a silence falls over the two of you, and you just quietly enjoy each other’s presence.
It’s during one of those moments that you look over at Arthur. “I love you.”
Arthur blinks, then gives you a bashful smile. “I love you too, darlin’. But where’s this suddenly come from?”
You shrug, grinning at him. “I felt like saying it, so I did.”
He averts his eyes, and you can tell he’s trying to hide his face with the brim of his hat. He can’t hide the way the tips of his ears have turned red, though. “Well, alright then,” he says, smile still tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Shortly after that exchange, you have Bandit slow to a halt — and Arthur immediately follows your lead. “Look at that,” you whisper, pointing towards a sounder of wild boars in the distance. They’re digging around in the mud, no doubt looking for something to eat. Faint high-pitched squeals draw your attention to a couple of younger ones within the group, playing and running around the adults. A little family, out foraging for food.
“Wanna stop and watch ‘em for a while?” Arthur asks.
You nod enthusiastically. “Yeah, that would be nice.”
So you leave the horses to graze, and you and Arthur sit in the grass and watch the boars from a safe distance. They’re just dark brown spots in the distance from here, but it’s hard to miss the way they’re interacting with their environment. Snouts shoved into the ground, front hooves digging at the dirt. The younger ones dart around through the low growth of the forested area the adults are foraging in.
You never did bring in a wild boar for Pearson to cook, but right now you can’t bring yourself to grab your rifle from Bandit’s saddle.
In the shade of the trees, Arthur has taken off his hat and put it aside. One of his hands is on the ground behind you, keeping himself propped up. You turn to look at him and find that Arthur was already looking at you. You keep your voice low as you speak, even though you know the sounder realistically can’t hear you unless you yell. “Don’t you want to draw them?”
“Nah,” he murmurs, shaking his head.
That’s unlike him. The thought is expressed with the way you give him a quizzical look, but it vanishes when Arthur leans in and kisses you. Your eyes flutter closed and you sigh into the kiss.
His hair is still damp, leaving your fingers wet as you move your hands to the back of his neck. The kisses he gives you are gentle and slow, allowing you to fully savour the moment and take him in with all of your senses. The coarse brush of his beard against your cheek, the occasional clumsy bumping of noses followed by quiet giggles, his free hand holding on to your waist. He smells like soap and… cloves and lemongrass, you think. Only for a moment do you get to wonder if Arthur put on cologne for you, because your mind goes blank when he lets out a low moan accompanied by a lick at your lower lip through the kiss.
His touch suddenly feels searing hot through the thin fabric of your shirt, and the whimper he draws out from your throat lets him know just how desperate you are for more. You lean in closer to press your chest against his, your tongue slipping past his lips and tasting tobacco and brandy.
You want him, you want him so desperately it almost makes you lose all sense of reason.
Hands moving to his chest, you helplessly grab bunches of fabric in your fists. Breaking the kiss, Arthur moves to straddle you, and with one hand holding the back of your neck, he carefully has you lay back onto the grass. You look up at him with short breaths and kiss-swollen lips.
He just looks at you for a moment, seemingly stunned. Then he leans forward to cage your body with his own and recapture your mouth with his own, forearms on either side of your head. Your hands move to roam the expanse of his chest as he kisses you tenderly. “You’re beautiful,” he breathes out against the corner of your mouth.
You giggle. You think you could die happy now. “Where’s that suddenly come from?”
It’s hard to miss the feeling of him grinning when he nuzzles your cheek. “I felt like sayin’ it, so I did.”
His kisses move from your cheek to your jaw and to your neck. You whimper when he licks a hot stripe over your pulse point. His mouth continues, leaving a trail of kisses and bites to the hollow of your neck, before moving on to the top of your exposed sternum, following it down towards the valley between your breasts.
Arthur stops, glancing up at you as if asking for permission. You turn your head to look at the road you were riding along just a while earlier. “Nobody’s gonna see,” he says as if having read your mind. He lowers his voice. “I’ll make sure of it.”
A nervous giggle bubbles from your throat. This entire encounter is thrilling in all the right ways. You nod. “Okay, I believe you.” You chew on your bottom lip. “You can… go ahead.”
Arthur’s right hand slips one more shirt button out of its eyelet, then pushes aside the fabric to reveal your chest to him. Your nipples are already perked up with excitement. His eyes, darkened with a haze of lust, dart to your face. “Not even wearin’ a chemise underneath?”
“Laundry day,” you mumble as a lousy excuse.
“Sure,” he says with a lazy grin, clearly not buying it. His hand slides across your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Carefully he moves his hand around the curve of your left breast, looking at you with a contemplative expression as if he’s trying to map out your body and commit every detail to memory. You gasp when his thumb brushes across your nipple.
He lowers himself and returns his lips to your sternum, kissing another trail towards your right nipple as he roughly squeezes your left breast. You throw your head back and whine a little, desperately pressing your knees together for some friction down where you want — no, need it. Your hands find their way from his chest to his shoulders, fingers digging into the firm muscle beneath his shirt as you whimper. Arthur licks across your right nipple, then lets out a satisfied chuckle. “Such pretty sounds.”
“Arthur,” you say between shallow breaths, staring up at the canopy, “I’m going to lose my mind if you’re only going to tease me.”
He hums in acknowledgement, planting his hands on either side of your waist as he moves down to kiss your clothed stomach. His tone is infuriatingly cocky when he speaks. “Can’t have that happenin’, can we?”
You lower your voice to warn him, even though you feel like you’re in no position to make threats. “Don’t test my patience, Arthur Morgan.”
He chuckles, moving lower before sitting back so he’s straddling your thighs. “Apologies, ma’am,” he drawls, fingers trailing down across your abdomen. “I’ll pick up the pace if that’s what you want.” Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth. Arthur looks at you with half-lidded eyes, hands on the fabric of your skirt around your hips. He watches you for a reaction as he slowly tugs at the blue material, carefully pulling it upwards to expose your calves. When you part your lips and your breathing picks up in excitement, his hands begin pushing the fabric up to your thighs.
Arthur nudges your legs apart with his knee, then lays himself down between them, hands holding the backs of your thighs and pushing your legs up a little. You shudder and breathe out his name when he presses a kiss to your left leg, just beneath the lace hem of your drawers.
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says, looking at you earnestly as his thumbs gently caress your inner thighs.
You could just as well swoon. That’s what you love so much about him, isn’t it? He’s always showing the world his tough side, putting up this facade of being nothing but a brute who only knows how to communicate through violence. Yet for some reason, he’s let you in, allowing you to chip away at the walls he surrounds his heart with and take a look at what’s behind it. He would never hurt you. Everything he does, he always asks for permission, be it verbal or not. He has killed for you — he would do anything to keep you safe from harm.
You irrevocably have his heart.
You swallow thickly, looking at him through your lashes. “I don’t want you to stop. I want everything you’re willing to give.”
Arthur’s grip on your thighs tightens, but you can tell he’s holding himself back so he won’t bruise your skin. He’s trying to control himself so he won’t accidentally cause you any pain. The thought of it excites you in ways you can’t put into words right now. No, not now, not when he’s looking at you as if he’s been starved, and you’re the only thing that could possibly still his hunger.
He hoists your legs up to have your thighs rest on his shoulders, the movement making the spurs on your boots jingle. You move your hands away, one towards your mouth to hide your giddy smile, the other grabbing a fistful of grass above your head. Taking his sweet time, Arthur kisses along your inner thighs, occasionally alternating between them. “Gonna make you feel real good, darlin’,” he purrs. He presses kisses to the sensitive skin and licks across it, the sensations so Goddamn tantalising and driving you completely wild, making you want to pull up your skirt completely and tell him to make good on his word and just get started.
Arthur suddenly stops and roughly sucks on the skin of your left thigh, on that same spot just beneath the lace hem of your drawers. You gasp with pleasure and in disbelief, then look at him with wide eyes. “Are you leaving a hickey?”
He kisses the red mark with a sly smile. “What? I’m the only one who’s gonna see it.”
You huff, laying your head back again and looking up at the canopy. You’re still a little breathless. Still, your giddy smile slowly returns. “I was just surprised. Didn’t think you’d be the kind of guy to give hickeys.”
Arthur nuzzles your thigh, his beard feeling particularly coarse there. “Well… I hope to keep surprisin’ you.”
Slowly, almost reverently, Arthur pushes up the rest of your skirt. It leaves the navy blue fabric bunched up around your hips, and your drawers completely exposed. You think Arthur is going to tug them off next, but he seems to have other plans. He slips his fingers between the thin section of overlapping fabric over your pubic bone, then pushes the white muslin aside. You inhale sharply, followed by a little “oh”.
(You initially had your reservations about women’s underwear of this time, but suddenly you’re not too upset about the split-crotch designs.)
Both of Arthur’s hands move between your legs, keeping your drawers tugged open. He swallows thickly, and his breath feels hot on your exposed labia. It makes you want to squirm. His thumb traces upwards along your slit, slow and studious, the pad of his digit becoming slick with your wetness. Your eyes screw shut. Then he gently swipes his thumb across your clit, drawing out a little moan from your throat.
“Darlin’,” Arthur murmurs, voice sounding strained. His breathing is ragged. He only continues talking when you open your eyes and look at him. The raw devotion in his blue-green eyes almost leaves you stunned. “I need you to tell me whenever I do somethin’ you like, and whenever I do somethin’ you don’t. Can you do that for me?”
All you can do is nod, whimpering a little when you feel him breathe out on your sensitive skin.
“Good girl.” Arthur licks across your inner labia, mimicking the motion his thumb made earlier, before his mouth encases your clit and gently sucks at it. A jolt of pleasure surges through your body, accompanied by you breathing out an emphatic “oh my God”.
You haven’t been properly touched that way for literal months, and Arthur’s mouth quite literally feels like sweet salvation. It’s sparked something in you, and you know you’ve been ruined: you’ll forever be craving more, more of this, more of him.
He carefully flicks his tongue across the bundle of nerves — you immediately throw your head back with a whine. He moans a little, pleased to hear the noises you’re making, before he continues using his tongue. Your hands find their way to his head, fingers threading through his damp hair as you try to restrain yourself from bucking against his mouth. “You can… You can be a little rougher,” you murmur. He immediately responds by lapping at your clit, earning him a gasp. “Yes— Yes, like that,” you whimper.
Arthur hums in response, and for a short moment, you lift your head a little to look at him again. The sight is something you could have plucked right out of your own daydreams. The green-tinted sunlight filtering in through the canopy makes Arthur look like a modern Eros. Eyes closed and brows furrowed as he focuses on nothing but your pleasure, hair all tousled and messed up from your fingers. His mouth is hot and wet against you, tongue doing all the right things and responding exactly the way you want whenever you give him instructions.
You let out a shuddering exhale as you tilt your head back again. “Arthur?”
“I want more.”
Something snaps in him. Pushing his shoulder against the backs of your thighs, he angles your hips up and presses his mouth a little rougher to your vulva, causing you to whimper and mewl out another “yes” as he sucks and laps at your clit. Your right hand trails over your stomach to your breasts. Glancing up to see it happen, Arthur removes his left hand from between your legs with a grunt to swat your hand away, and palms your breasts instead. You moan his name, followed quickly by a gasp when he takes your perked up nipple between his fingers. Your right hand reaches out to tightly grab his wrist, feeling like you’ll fall apart too soon if you don’t hold on to anything.
Arthur eats you out like a man given his last meal. He’s fully savouring everything: the feeling of you against his tongue, the way your body twitches in response to his touches, and the sound of his name spilling from your lips like a desperate benediction.
You’re like a coil that’s being wound too tightly, your breathing becoming shallow and difficult. The fingers of your left dig into Arthur’s scalp, grabbing fistfuls of hair and gaining a low moan of approval from him, the sound vibrating against your slick heat. Every muscle in your body is starting to slowly tense up. “Arthur,” you manage to say through gasps. “Keep— Keep doing that.”
He hums in response, not changing a thing about what he’s doing to you. You realise now that Arthur wouldn’t only do anything to make you happy and to keep you safe.
He would also do anything to hear you moan his name.
“Yes,” you whimper, “God, yes. Oh… Oh…” You feel tears prick in the corners of your eyes. “Arthur, I’m close— I’m—”
The coil snaps, and you come undone with your head thrown back and gasps and moans drawn from your lips. Your legs tremble, their jittery movements lightly making the spurs of your boots jingle. The fingernails of your right hand leave little crescent moon marks on Arthur’s wrist. He pulls away from between your legs.
You feel a little lightheaded.
All you can do for a couple of moments is breathe. Breathe, and stare up at the canopy above.
Then you sigh, completely content, and prop yourself up on your forearms to look at Arthur. You blink, still feeling a little disoriented. He’s carefully lowering your legs onto the ground, fixing your drawers, and then wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He looks very proud of himself, wearing a lazy grin.
You take a deep breath, smiling back at him. “That was, um. Wow.”
“Glad to hear you enjoyed yourself.” He gets up on his feet, then offers you a hand. You gratefully accept it, but find yourself on trembling legs even as he helps you to your feet. As you redo your shirt buttons and smooth out your skirt, your knees almost buckle. Arthur keeps you from sinking to the ground again by wrapping his arms around you. A chuckle rumbles in his chest. You link your hands behind his back and press your body against his, not quite wanting to let go of him yet. He kisses your forehead. “You okay for the ride back to camp?
“You don’t want me to return the favour?” you whisper, moving your head to look up at him through your lashes. You can feel his stiffness against your hip, letting you know he enjoyed giving as much as you enjoyed receiving.
Despite the carnal act he just performed on you mere minutes ago, a blush still creeps up to Arthur’s cheeks at the mention of you reciprocating. “Don’tchu worry ‘bout that. We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”
You nod, grinning at him. Then you carefully stand up on your own, loosening your grip around him. “Who taught you how to do that, anyway?”
Oh, you adore that boyish smile he’s wearing. “I’ve… had some practice on a coupl’a ladies who freely gave out advice.”
You stand up on your toes to kiss him. “I’ll have to thank them if I ever meet them.”