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Arthur’s day felt over although the sun was hardly set. He had stayed at the saloon in Saint Denis the night before, grooming himself to look presentable to the woman who did not want him, the one and only Mary Linton. He took a nice hot bath and washed and cleaned his favorite clothes, his trusty duster coat and blue shirt. He had gone to the barber to get a short right-parted fade and a gentleman’s clean shave. He looked like the photograph from his younger years that he kept in his satchel, the one with Mary Linton by his side but now he was more rugged, roughened with experience. He was the infamous outlaw, the second in command of the dangerous Dutch van der Linde gang, Arthur Morgan.
A letter from Mary had been sent for Arthur the previous day and assuredly, he was at her beck and call like a loyal dog the very next day. Mary had begged Arthur to save the man he hated, the man responsible for ending the young love between them, her father. And of course, whenever Mary called for Arthur, he came. She had begged Arthur to recover her mother’s brooch that her father had sold. And of course, Arthur obliged. She had asked Arthur to watch the cabaret show at the Théâtre Râleur with her. And of course, he paid for it all. However, it was a grand time. Watching the show with Mary, he could feel all his responsibilities to his gang and all his worries disappear in the presence of the woman he still had feelings for. He never wanted it to end. Her voice, her laughter, her energy, he craved it. But her safety came above all. The troubles from his outlaw life were far too dangerous for a precious girl like her, which forced him to keep himself at a distance away from her. When the show ended and the curtains closed, they walked out of the theater and to her hotel, enjoying each other’s company and recounting their eventful day along the way.
They went upstairs into her room and Arthur began gathering her bags to take to the trolley.
“Thanks, Arthur.” Mary thanked him curtly, ambivalent over how much it seemed Arthur cared for her while mulling over how poorly she had treated him in the past.
“It’s my pleasure, my lady.” He responded gallantly.
Mary sighed and stared longingly at her long-lost love and she felt a pang in her chest as she thought about the way their paths diverged. They were of different worlds; he was a lowbred outlaw and she was a refined upper class woman. Her father never approved of Arthur and had succeeded in crushing all hope the young buck had with his daughter. Mary’s eyes stuck to his handsome yet weathered face and then went to his broad shoulders burdened by a life alien to her. She shook her head and tried to look away; she could still see the boy she fell in love with. She thought about him often. Her request for his help wasn’t just for her father. It was for her. She wanted to see him again and she felt a void in her soul yearning to be filled with what once was.
“My life wasn’t supposed to…” She sighed, her eyes aimlessly wandering the room. Her eyes fix to the man before her and she asks, “Is it too late for us, Arthur?”
Arthur paused, dropped her bags and turned to her. “I can’t lie to you. I’m a wanted man, Mary. If I… If anyone close to me… well, they’re wanted too and I can’t have you wrapped up in that. But it’s coming to an end, this time it really is.”
“Run away with me, Arthur.” Mary softly spoke out. “Run away right now and don’t look back.”
“I want to–”
She stopped his words with a kiss before he could continue, pressing her lips against his. Her lips locked to his as if passionately trying to convince him of the life they could have together. Her hands gripped his neck and ran through his short sun bleached hair, holding on for dear life as if he could be lost at any second. She pushed her body close to his, pressing her bosom against his chest, feeling his heat. His heart alight with a rekindled flame, his arms began wrapping around her petite waist. Their tongues intertwined like a clash between two sovereign spirits. Her warmth softened Arthur’s cold and brash tongue as he gave in to her control, lost inside her sweet mouth.
Mary’s hand drifted downwards, running her fingers down his handsome face and strong jawline, towards the collar of his duster coat, feeling his firm and muscular body through his shirt. Her hand stopped and lingered below his belt, caressing his growing bulge and feeling his already hard erection throb through his straining ranch pants. He groaned into her throat as she gently massaged him under his clothes with her feminine touch. She unbuckled his belt and started unbuttoning his tented pants.
Arthur broke their kiss and gazed into her eyes affectionately. “Mary… Mary… You want this?” Arthur asked in a low raspy voice. Mary felt the hot whisper on her face. She took in his scent, it faintly smelled of dirt, of gunsmoke, of dried blood, of toil and work. It was unmistakably Arthur Morgan, the infamous outlaw and the man she still loved.
“I want you, Arthur.” She answered. She wanted his strength, his protection, his devotion, his intensity, his family, his child. She continued caressing his manhood, sensing her strong influence over his body. In a relapse of naive childhood passion she thought she could have all of him, his love and his life but the outlaw life was a chaotic force that nobody could control.
The primal male instinct that he had tried to repress all these years coursed through his body at the sound of her words. His heart started pounding like an overworked stallion let loose from its bridle, racing to freedom within reach. He carried her in his strong arms and set her on the bed, unbuttoning his clothes and removing them quickly without thought. Mary laid still and watched him, captivated by his strength and vitality as he undressed in front of her. She took in his sun-kissed skin, covered in scars. A bullet scar near his chest caught her attention. He had seen more than one lifetime’s worth of trouble, crime, grief, loss, anger and pain. Her eyes wandered up and down his muscular torso, down towards his waistline. Now only a thin fabric separated her gaze from her long held desire.
Mary slowly slipped out of her modest dress. His meticulous but rough hands unfastened her corset and her soft supple breasts fell free from their confining bra. Arthur’s eyes gazed in a mix of adoration and hunger towards his love, his mouth watering like an animal as he removed the last of his undergarments, revealing his hard and erect cock standing tall between his powerful thighs.
Arthur crawled on top of her slowly, gently kissing her face and neck. She placed her hands upon his stomach, feeling his taut muscles. Her delicate body trembled under his masculine aura as she felt a wetness line her core, inviting Arthur into her temple. Mary placed her hands on his naked torso, guiding him inside.
Arthur pushed his hardened length into her slowly, savoring her warmth and care as he moved deeper inside her. Something he had sworn off after the death of his son, Isaac. She moaned and reached up gripping his muscular back tightly as he filled every crevice of her core, pushing as deep as possible within her. She felt the years of hardship he carried on his broad shoulders, holding him close to her like her most cherished memories.
“Mary…” He murmured in a low tone. He looked down at her precious face in disbelief that they were together once again. He felt invigorated after months of being beaten down by the civilized and uncivilized world. He had forgotten the pleasure of a woman’s intimate touch, especially of one he loved and cared for so much. He pulled out slightly and then plunged into her again, filling her perfectly as if by design. Arthur kissed her neck and bit down lightly, tasting a bitter perfume that coated her neck.
“Oh Arthur.” She whimpered as she felt all of his length inside her, her body quaking beneath him as he thrust himself into her. He felt so big and powerful, far more than any other man she had relations with in the past. Why could they never be? She wondered as she was consumed by desire and fantasy. She felt safe and protected, in a familiar home she only ever saw in her dreams. But she felt an intrusive knock. Her concerns crept into her as she envisioned her future life with him, a wanted outlaw.
Arthur continued to give all of himself to her, his breathing growing faster, her warmth melting all of his pent up stress. The hard part of him went in and out, her tightness squeezing his entire shaft as it rippled inside of her. A gasp of pleasure escaped her throat, as she battled the anxiety within her. She kissed and bit his neck, tasting his salt-sweat skin and smelled his robust musk. Could her warmth, her tenderness, her love rescue him from the spirit of the outlaw that cursed him? She wondered. She doubted. She didn’t believe it was possible.
“Oh Arthur… We can’t.” She voiced through her moans. His girth filled her entirely, causing her body to clench tightly around him. Arthur’s manhood was riding her to paradise but her fears were pulling her back to the cold and harsh Earth. Arthur’s life would inevitably lead to his death and it would break her heart if she lost him and it was impossible for her mind to wander elsewhere.
He kept moving his hips intensely between her alluring thighs, letting himself get lost deep into her. His long shaft slid back and forth inside her, feeling her quivering muscles constrict over him as he pushed harder into her. He tried to hold on tight to every moment as he pumped himself into her, wanting to feel this moment last forever. It was a far away dream he wanted more than anything in the world and something he believed he could never have. Now it was closer than ever, on the edge of fruition.
“Arthur… please…” Mary softly pleaded through labored breathing. She pulled at his hair, crying out as he kept pumping faster and faster. Her carnal desire for him warred with the fear that gripped her heart. She held the same dream he did but was too conflicted and needed more time before she decided to lose herself in his life. Her body shuddered and trembled as it clenched instinctively around him, squeezing him. His heart beat harder and harder and he felt hers too. His mouth hung open as his breathing became more ragged. All outside sounds dampened as if a starving lion took over his soul, solely focused on the hunt for the feeling he had not felt in so long. He was coming closer and closer as he buried himself into her, his cock throbbed with each beat of his heart. Her entire body shook, stimulating his sensitive crown, causing his own body to shake as he was frenzied with lust. Pressure built up inside of him as his seed ached for release from his painfully hard and throbbing shaft. She panicked at the thought of bringing a child into the world with a father fated to die young.
“Arthur... stop. Stop!” She flailed her shaking hand and slapped him weakly across the cheek but it felt like a gunshot to his heart. He froze, stunned and heartbroken, not realizing the turmoil she felt. A wave of guilt and shame washed across his face, closing his eyes as if it would make him disappear from her life. Sweat dripped down his muscular and fatigued body as if they were his tears. He pulled back from her in silence. The only sound in the room was his labored breathing and the slowing thump of his heart.
“I… I’m sorry, Mary.” Arthur apologized and his eyes darted to the ground, trying to hide from hers, ashamed of the way he acted. “I… I… I…”
“Oh, Arthur. I’m sorry.” Mary interjected. She realized he would never be able to see the peril he was in from the eye of his life-long storm. “Oh, I don’t know. I shouldn’t have done that to you. I shouldn’t have tried. I just thought I could get you to leave your outlaw ways and I just know that is something you can't do.”
She looked into his cerulean eyes. Those eyes looked like they held back an ocean of ferocious strength, of gentle kindness, of intense passion, of tears, sublime and tragic. She saw the slight yellow color around his pupils, like a halo. It made her think of a guardian angel that he needed but one that never came for him. She cried out, “Oh how I love you, Arthur. I wish to be with you but I can’t. We can’t. Not in our present ways. This life you live, it will kill you and I can’t bear to see it.”
“But Mary, this life– this life is over. This– this outlaw... it’s done. It really is. I– I love you, Mary. I do. I want to leave it all behind, Mary. I do and I will... I will. But– but– but not– not right now. There’s just– I just need to do one more thing and–”
“Oh, Arthur.” She interrupted as her heart ached. She tried to believe the walls she saw closing around Arthur’s life weren't so. That she could wait long enough and Arthur could escape before it imprisoned him to never let go. She didn’t know why he was so blind to it. Arthur tried to console her and held her hands in his, devotedly. She cried, “I beg you, please just run away with me right now, Arthur.”
“Please, Mary. I have some people to take care of. Once they’re free, then I’m free, then I can disappear. I want to run away with you more than anything. I do. But I have to take care of them.” He began stuttering again as he saw her face wince in agony; anger simmered from his situation, feeling he was losing her once again. “And– and we need money. If– if we’re going to run anywhere, we need money. And– and I had some. Then some fool got it trapped in a town that I can’t go back to. Just please Mary, just– just one more thing I have to do then I am yours.”
“Oh, Arthur.” She shook her head, trying to hold back tears. His devotion to family and the people he cared for was one of the many things she loved him for and it was being used to break her heart. “I want to believe you. I wish to. But I know you won’t run away and I know a distant dream when I see one,” she says as she tries to soothe herself.
He leaned into her, closed his eyes and brought her hands to his mouth for comfort, as if in prayer. He needed something to believe in. “Please, Mary.” He begged softly. “I am either a ghost or I am your man. You will see soon enough.”
“Arthur… no…no…” She was drained, too exhausted to say anything else, weeping as tears rolled down her cheek. Feeling beaten and broken by the outlaw, her attempt at saving him from his life had been extinguished. She gently kissed his forehead, hoping it wouldn’t be the last.
“I… should go… I have to catch the trolley before it leaves for the day.”
“Oh… ahem, sure… of course.” Arthur responded dejectedly, his breathing still labored, his spirit fallen. He felt Mary lose faith in him and her hurt ate at his soul. He didn’t know why he thought he could be happy. Good things don’t happen to bad people; it was a fool’s delusion from the start, he thought. He stared quietly at her bags on the floor, trying to distract himself from his heartache. Born into sin, stabbed, shot and yet this gave Arthur a pain he couldn't bear. He had given her all he could give and it was so close but not enough. She got up and began dressing herself, as did he.
Arthur carried her bags and walked her to the trolley in silence. In the war of love, life and circumstance, he was defeated for the moment but held his head high for he was still a man who loved her dearly. She held onto his arm, basking in the fleeting warm glow of the nomadic outlaw she couldn’t help but love. She felt the good man inside of him and her heart ached once more. As they approached their destination, Mary looked deeply into his azure eyes, the yellow accent around his pupils now like a rising sun determined to shine over a limitless sky and in that moment, she saw a shimmer of light in those eyes like divination. It felt like hope, it was a future with him at her side with a beautiful happy family, it was a fantasy that she could mistake for her life. Deep in the recesses of her heart, she still believed it possible.
They held in one last embrace and he kissed her forehead tenderly. She nuzzled against his hardy chest, feeling his muscular arms envelop her. She felt the comforting warmth of his heart, smelled the unshakable scent of the outlaw within him and sighed, looking up at him, heartbroken over the life she desired with him and the bitter reality that ripped it apart. He looked back, ardently gazing into her innocent brown eyes.
“Mary…” Arthur couldn’t come up with the words he wanted to say. No words could possibly bridge the chasm between their lives. They held close in each other’s arms yet were still worlds apart. As their embrace came to an end, Mary kept a hand on his chest as they parted.
“Arthur.” She replied as her hand departed from him, the last heartbeat of his she would feel. She boarded the trolley and looked back at him, wishing he would follow, for her pretty dream to come true. He stood tall, alone, foolhardy, ready to endure all the pain in life that the world had for him.
“Oh, Arthur...” She wept. She had no other words.