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You’re Arthur’s girl, everyone knows it. You always managed to find time for each other, that was until now. It’s been almost a week since Blackwater. Days since you and Arthur had a moment of peace. He had been busy with robbing, hunting, and scouting. You two had barely been able to rest together since the massacre. Just fleeting touches and the occasional peck, not nearly enough for either of you. You had been allowed to share a private room together, but it changed little.
It was usual for him that Arthur would come in by the time you were asleep and leave before you woke, leaving no time for affection other than sleeping next to each other. You were exhausted, yet you crave his touch more than anything in the world.
After a long day of taking care of John’s bloodied face and helping mend some worn clothing, you open the door to the cabin. It was old, dusty, but it did the job. You amble into your room, taking part in the same routine you’ve been doing since arriving here. You shed off the thick outer layers of your winter outfit, folding them down onto a warped wooden desk. You straighten out your chemise, soothing the wrinkles from the long day’s work. The room is cramped with little space for mess. There is a dresser, a mirror, a weathered wooden desk, and a beat to shit bed. It was small, but soft and comfortable. Better than nothing.
You look up into the mirror that hangs across from the door, looking at your appearance. You hardly recognise yourself. Your hair is a mess, so frazzled and knotted. Dark bags hang heavy under your eyes, restless nights catching up to you. You feel so tired, and you look it too. The past week nearly drained you, physically and mentally. You hated this version of you, this worn down girl.
“What ‘s that frown for, pretty girl?” Arthur rasps as his eyes catch yours in the mirror. He closes the door behind him with his foot, holding two bowls of Pearson’s stew. You spin around, surprised to see him back so soon. After the series of late nights, you expected tonight to be the same. You were wrong.
Seeing your expression, he wordlessly sets the bowls down and makes his way towards you. He immediately envelops you in a hug, bringing your body to his. His warmth surrounds you, the pleasant scent of earth, smoke, and something entirely him floods your senses. Arthur’s head rests on top of yours, his strong hands gently holding and rubbing your waist. You respond in kind, arms twining around his neck and pulling him even closer.
The moment your bodies meet, you both melt into the feeling. A moment's silence and respite after days of endless effort. It felt so good to finally be held without worrying when you had to pull away. This was heaven.
You don’t even notice the tears, not until his hands gently move to your face, his thumbs brushing away the salty droplets. “Oh, my sweet girl,” Arthur whispers so softly, leaning down to press a few kisses to your forehead. “It ‘s alright, darlin’. I’m ‘ere. What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours?”
His words are sweet, his tone that soothing rasp. Your arms stay wrapped around his neck, just holding him close to you as he cups your face in his rough hands. “Just missed you,” you murmur softly, tilting your head into his touch. His calloused fingers felt so good against your soft skin, something so purely Arthur. You look up at him through your lashes, tears clumping the thin wisps together. “I’m so tired,” you admit defeatedly.
Arthur just nods softly at your words, not giving you any warning before he picks you up. His rough hands tenderly grasp underneath your thighs, guiding you to wrap your legs around his waist. You were so close to him, no space between your bodies as you rest your head on his shoulder. He felt so warm, so comforting.
“’s alright, sweetheart,” he drawls by your ear, moving to sit down on the edge of the bed. Your body is nestled against his, your fronts flush as he shifts you forward. “We can rest. We have all the time in the world.”
Arthur pulls back, his hands moving from your thighs to your back, gently rubbing and kneading the knots in your back. A low moan leaves your lips as he eases the tense muscles, your head lolling forward.
He chuckles at your reaction, the sound deep and amused. “Atta girl,” he praises, continuing to draw satisfied sounds from your lips. “Just relax, darlin’. When yer ready, I wanna get some food in yuh, okay?”
You hum in affirmation, your eyes closed while he touches you. Minutes go by, Arthur completely contented to make sure you feel good before prioritising his own needs. Hesitantly, you pull away as your stomach growls, reminding you of how little you’ve eaten today.
“Jesus, woman,” he chides, his features contorting into worry. He gingerly repositions his hands to your stomach, not feeling its usual fullness. “Have you had anythin’ at all?”
Blush stains your cheeks, embarrassment and guilt rolling through you. You nibble at your lower lip, nodding as you tentatively look up at him. “Shared some canned pineapple with the girls this morning,” you confirm, looking into his ocean like eyes. “Haven’t had anything since… didn’t feel like I needed to until now.”
Arthur grunts in understanding, lifting you off of him and onto the bed as he stands. He grabs the long forgotten bowls, returning to you and sitting by your side. “I reckon’ it’ll be a little cold now, but it’s food nonetheless,” he mutters, sliding a bowl and spoon into your hands.
“If it’s Pearson’s cooking, it’s barely food,” you mumble before taking a bite, immediately cringing at the taste.
Arthur can’t hide his smile, an amused grin breaking out across his face. “As long as it fills you up, it’s food,” he counters as he starts eating, immune to the taste after consuming his cooking for so long.
“You’re not food, yet you fill me u-” Arthur chokes on his spoonful of soup, interrupting your debate. His expression one of shock and horror, not expecting your brazenness.
Laughter fills the room, a warm smile on your face as you watch his cheeks go rosy. “L-let’s just focus on eating,” he grumbles, his voice gruff and gravely.
Once both dishes are done, Arthur sets them down on the desk, moving back to you with a tender look in his eyes. “Gettin’ late, darlin’,” he drawls, taking a few steps towards you as he begins to unbutton his shirt. His thick fingers made their way down, slowly revealing more of his toned chest. He wasn’t thin by any means, carrying both muscle and some softness. He knew just how much you loved his body, but it never stopped the self deprecating thoughts from getting to him.
You look up at him from where you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes full of heat as you reach out and pull him in by his belt loops. Your hands quickly go to his belt, rushing to unbuckle it.
Arthur lets out a gravelly chuckle, watching your every move as he finishes taking off his shirt. His skin was paler than normal, but still smothered with freckles. Chestnut hair covered his chest, leading down his stomach before dipping beneath his jeans.
When the belt is finally gone, you unbutton and unzip the denim pants. Biting your lip, you tug down the unwanted trousers to reveal his long johns. The imprint of his length was unmistakable, your hands eagerly reaching to rub him through the fabric.
Arthur’s head falls back, a low groan spilling from his lips at the contact. You could feel the way his body was responding to your fingers, twitching and hardening beneath you. His hands move to gently clasp your wrists, moving them away from his covered cock. Your lips curve into a frown, a protest on the tip of your tongue.
“Yer tired, ain’t right for you to be pleasin’ me,” he rasps as he gently brings your hands up to his lips, pressing sweet kisses to your knuckles. He slips away, only to kick off his jeans and climb into bed. Arthur’s hand grasps the large blanket, gesturing for you to crawl in beside him.
The moment you’re pressed against his side, he rests the blanket down on top of you, cocooning you in warmth. Arthur lays on his side, his gaze roaming over your features. “How’d I get so lucky?”
You can’t help but blush at his words, your arms moving to wrap around his neck. “I ask myself the same thing every morning,” you whisper softly, moving one of your legs to curve around his hip, pulling yourself impossibly close. Leaning up, your lips meet his.
It’s sweet, soft, and slow. It’s the rushed moments, the quick kisses, that finally led to this moment. No hurry, no impending doom. Just you and Arthur.
His touch is gentle as he moves one hand to the back of your head, angling your head to deepen the kiss. Arthur’s tongue leisurely runs along your lower lip, pleading for entrance. The action alone causes a sigh to leave your mouth. Taking the opportunity, his tongue slips in. Satisfied sounds leave the two of you at the same time, both of you desperate and needing.
One of Arthur’s hands moves to grip your thigh, his fingers digging into your skin. He breaks the kiss, his breaths shaky and uneven. His lips are swollen, and you have a suspicion that yours are in the same state. His eyes are closed as he moves his forehead down to yours, your noses bumping together unceremoniously.
Breathless laughter fills the air, soft pecks being exchanged. His arms wrap around you, bracing you against his body as he moves onto his back. “Found a rundown cabin while scoutin’ out around an hour away,” he whispers against your ear, his scruff rubbing against the sensitive skin. “Has a bed.”
You sigh, resting your head against his chest. “And what do we tell ‘em?” You mumble against his skin, the accent you’ve been gaining slipping out with your tiredness. “We want to go off into the woods to have sex?”
Arthur chuckles hoarsely, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Just say ’m teachin’ you to hunt.”
A soft hum falls past your lips, your eyes closed as you feel yourself begin to walk the line of conciseness. “I look forward to our lesson,” you mutter before slipping off, completely surrounded by comfort. As long as Arthur was there, you could finally relax.