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Arthur sat across from you in the tub you lay in, dragging the fancy soap down the length of your arm. The scent of magnolia was heavy in the air. It was a luxury that you couldn’t usually afford, but Arthur had taken the care to make it so. He wanted to make this night special for you; he didn’t care how many dollars he had to fork over. He’d secured you a room with a freestanding tub inside. A private bath was what you both needed for this happy occasion.
A soft groan left your lips as Arthur trailed his thumb behind the bar of soap, digging into the sore muscle of your arm. A small smirk rose to his lips. “You like that, don’tcha, darlin’? And I ain’t even got started.”
“Guess my muscles are sore,” you managed. Your head dropped back against the porcelain rim of the tub and you drew in a heavy breath. It was the nicest tub you’d bathed in in a long time. You’d watched your man carry in buckets of hot water from the lobby, a testament to how eager he’d been to take care of you. It was a nice hotel to be sure, but you weren’t in New York. All the hard work of carrying the hot water had been left to Arthur, not to the intricate plumbing of a well maintained city. Arthur continued his ministrations, putting pressure on your arms, your shoulders, even your neck.
“Two baths in two days. I’d say we’re the cleanest outlaws this town ever saw,” you commented, unable to stop yourself from reaching forward and giving him the same treatment he’d been giving you. Arthur chuckled and certainly didn’t stop you.
By the end of the bath, you both were squeaky clean and more relaxed than you’d been in all those months with the gang. With a soft towel wrapped around your body, you padded across the floor to your clean clothes. Outside of the bath, there was a slight ache in your front, but it was easy enough to ignore.
Arthur followed suit, watching as you began to dress. “There’s no need for that, darlin’. I ain’t done takin’ care o’you.”
With the linen of your chemise halfway over your torso, you stopped. When you let go, the fabric dropped down the rest of your body, but pooled slightly around your hips. “What?”
“You heard me,” he drawled.
“I thought the bath was all,” you said, looking up at the man. Arthur looked down at you with those blue eyes of his. The expression on his face was earnest, but maybe a little smug.
“Naw, couldn’t pay me to stop doting on you.” Arthur stepped closer to you. You swallowed thickly, bringing your hands up to grasp the fabric at his chest.
“You gon’ let me?” He asked, dipping his head down. His lips ghosted over yours, and you tipped your head up to close the space between you. You slid one hand up to cup his face and he tugged you closer by your waist. With a soft hum, you pulled back, meeting his eyes again.
“I ain’t gonna stop you,” you whispered, bringing him into another kiss. This time, Arthur squeezed your hips. He slowly slid his hands up the expanse of your body, stopping at your breasts. He grabbed them and held them in his hands, expecting a groan of appreciation. "Besides, it's our hon-" You began, but cut yourself off with a small gasp of pain.
His eyes were on you in an instant. Arthur pulled back, grabbing your waist yet again. “Did that hurt?” He asked incredulously.
You glanced down at your breasts. You cupped them in your hands, wincing slightly as you squeezed. They were sore. “It must be my monthly. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was coming.”
Now that you realized why you were aching, you felt embarrassed. You spread your legs to see the soft, diluted smear of blood between your thighs. A small groan left your lips now that you understood the extent of the situation. “Shit, Arthur. I’m real sorry. This is a whole mess.”
“Hey, don’t get all worked up about it. Put the towel down on the bed and sit. I’ll bring you a rag.”
You did as you were told, sniffling softly. This was the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you, even more embarrassing than the time you had been bucked off a horse in front of Kieran. Christ, you were a mess. Arthur returned with a rag and knelt in front of you, much to your chagrin. He had partially dressed in the time that he was gone, wearing a pair of pants and suspenders that held them up on his body. There was no shirt to be found, not that you were particularly concerned about that.
With wide eyes, you peered down at the gunslinger. “What are you doing?”
Arthur pressed the damp cloth to the skin of your inner thighs, wiping at the blood that marred your skin. “Cleanin’ you. Ain’t no different than me cleaning my seed outta you.”
You instinctively kicked your legs out and he pinned them down with his arm, if only to save himself from being kicked. “It is so!”
“No it ain’t. Now quit it,” he said, dragging the rag up your folds. Your legs jolted underneath his arm. Your heart pounded in your chest as he continued to clean away the blood. “It ain’t even much. I took you here to treat you, didn’t I? I make good on my word.”
A soft whimper left your lips and you watched him closely. The sun had gone down outside, and the room was illuminated by candlelight and the lantern on the nightstand. It hardly took a minute for him to finish cleaning you completely.
You sighed softly, shaking your head. “You didn’t have to do that…but thank you. You’re good to me.”
Arthur looked up at you with a crooked grin. In the low light, you were beautiful. The light of the candles illuminated your skin, showing the gentle shine of water droplets on your arms, on your calves. “I’d be a lot better t’you if you’d let me,” he said.
With a soft smile, you tilted your head. “Now what do you mean by that?”
“You know what I mean. Does it hurt?”
You stared down at him in front of you, still kneeling on the floorboards. You couldn’t believe how shameless he was being, kneeling in front of your open legs like this. Still, no blood flowed. It was just beginning, just like the cramping that began anew in your uterus. You closed your legs, now that he was done cleaning you up. “It does. It cramps.”
“You know, I heard a mighty fine thing a while back,” he began, standing to his full height in front of you. His sandy blonde hair was dark in the low lit room. His eyes too. They were dangerous, scheming. Before you could ask him what he’d heard, he continued. “An orgasm will help with the ache.”
A soft gasp left your lips, undoubtedly scandalized by his suggestion. First he’d knelt between your legs, wiping the blood away, and now he wanted to touch you there. It was unthinkable. Another sharp cramp tore through you. And alright… it was becoming more plausible by the minute.
“Now, I know you’re delicate,” Arthur prefaced, a smirk on his face. He was riling you up, as he often did. This happy occasion was no exception. “But you oughta let me try it. I told you I’d treat you tonight. Let me treat you.”
All too easily, Arthur leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. This eased something in you. His body was strong against yours, especially as he crawled up onto the bed with you. A hand slid down your front. He grabbed the fabric of your chemise, pulling it up to expose your abdomen. The air was slightly chilly; your skin was still a bit damp. His big hand trailed up the bare skin of your belly. His touch was warm, and it left a trail of desire in its wake.
At once, you were filled with the desire to push Arthur back and straddle his lap. That would not go well in your condition, so you managed to hold yourself back. You held onto Arthur while he rubbed his hand up your side. He made slow, torturous work of sliding your chemise further up your body. Your breasts were pressed against your slip, begging to be released and saved from the gentle friction of the worn fabric.
With care, you slid a hand up to join his, directing his touch up to where you desired it. His calloused hand cupped your breast, rubbing over the nipple with his thumb. A soft, half-pained sigh left your lips. When you looked up through your lashes, you noticed Arthur’s eyes on you. His gaze was tender, more caring than you’d ever seen it. This surprised you, and your own expression melted into something similar to his.
“This alright? Don’t hurt none?”
You shook your head and breathed a soft sigh, venturing forward to again meet his lips with your own. When you pulled back and pressed your forehead against his, you spoke. “Feels more good than anything. A little sore, but…”
“Good,” he breathed, breath ghosting over your lips. “Tonight is all about you. Your pleasure.”
“I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this.”
A smirk tugged at his lips. “You know exactly what you’ve done.”
And again, he let his hands wander. One hand gently groped your chest while the other strayed lower, caressing the top of your thigh. A heavy feeling settled in your chest as Arthur touched you. Appreciation and reverence filled your lungs, leaving you desperate yet overwhelmed. Every breath you took seemed to serve as a reminder that Arthur was there for you…because he loved you. With Arthur so determined to take care of you, even in such a condition, who were you to turn him down? Want started to pool between your legs. Well, you hoped it was that. If it was blood, you were sure you both would be sorely disappointed.
Thick fingers trailed along your other leg before dipping down to your inner thighs. As much as you instinctively wanted to push him away, you stopped yourself.
“You gon’ be a good girl for me?”
Despite yourself, you found yourself nodding.
A low chuckle left his lips. The warmth of your cunt was inviting. It warmed his fingers. He wanted nothing more than to be inside of you. “Yeah, I can tell. You’re so hot down here. Turned on f’me, huh?”
A gentle whimper left your lips as he parted your legs further with his hand. He ran his fingers through your folds. His finger found your clit and began to rub against it, prying another soft sigh from your lips. You tipped your head forward, resting it in the crook of his neck. There, you left soft kisses to his tanned, weather worn skin. A soft groan left his lips as you sucked a particularly nice mark into his neck.
“C’mere, let me taste you,” he groaned, bringing your face up to his. Arthur pulled you into a dirty kiss, distracting you while he inched his hand back down to your folds. You were thoroughly distracted when he slipped a finger inside. It was immediately met with the wet, warm velvet of your pussy. It was hotter, wetter inside than usual. Judging by the soft whine that left your lips, your insides were just as sore as your breasts.
“I know, sweet girl. I know,” he cooed. Only you knew him like this. He would give this part of himself only to you. Slowly, he began to curl his finger, pressing against your walls. The soreness and the pleasure began to mix together, leaving you aching and undeniably open. He added another finger, and you moaned.
“That’a girl,” he said, working to stretch you out on his fingers. Oftentimes, he would murmur things like these to you. In your time together, you’d grown used to it…craved it. His thumb came up to rub at your clit, leaving you with a delicious, dizzying pleasure.
“Oh, Arthur,” you breathed, eyebrows pinched together. Arthur had learned just how to take you apart. The thumb on your clit became your lifeline as the pressure in your gut began to blossom. The outlaw knew what was coming; he was drawing you to the edge with his touch. In a moment, the pressure climaxed. Your release flowed through you, leaving you gasping and moaning. Your walls tightened around Arthur’s fingers, leaving him hard and aching for more. He rode you through your orgasm, only pulling away when it was clear you were done.
Your body was heavy against the bed as Arthur removed himself from you fully. He wiped his hand on the towel that lay beneath you and hovered near the bed, a smug smile on his face. “Did that help any?”
You laughed and looked up at him. “I don’t know…want to try again?”
The look in Arthur’s eyes quickly turned feral. “You don’t know what you’re asking for. I don’t want to hurt you like this.”
You spread your legs open further, silently inviting him in. “It doesn’t hurt, Arthur. Not anymore. You were right about that. I want you. You’re so good to me.”
Already, Arthur was sliding the suspenders off of his shoulders. His pants soon followed. When he joined you on the bed again, clearly excited, you let out an eager laugh. “You really don’t mind, Arthur? This is hardly proper.”
Arthur smirked and leaned in close. “We ain’t proper people. Besides, if I was afraid of a little blood, I wouldn’t be the man that I am.”
A smile graced your lips as you leaned in, kissing him again. The warmth of his mouth was inviting. You’d grown addicted to his mouth on yours, that was no secret. Arthur leaned over you, pinning your body against the mattress with his own. The size difference between you two was palpable. He began to grind his hips down against you, drawing a groan from both of your lips.
“Please, Arthur,” you begged, looking up to meet his eyes.
Arthur groaned at your words and lined himself up. Slowly, he pushed in, making a home in your tight, wet heat. A sigh left your lips as you held onto him. Arthur well understood your cues, namely the soft nudge to his shoulder, and he began to move. The gunslinger wasn’t much in the way of words, nor was he entirely vocal in times like these, so his soft groans settled deep in your mind. The sounds he made as he started to move spurred your pleasure on. So soon, another peak was on its way to you.
“I ain’t gonna last,” he panted, thrusting deep inside of you. You were warm, wet, and inviting inside. “Not like this.”
“S’okay,” you murmured, bringing your legs up to wrap around his waist, spurring him on with your heel like you might your mare. The wet squelch of fluids accompanied his every thrust, causing your cheeks to flush red.
"Yer such a good girl. Take it," he panted.
“You’re so good to me,” you said through a moan. He was hitting right where you needed, pressing deep into you in a way that only he could. Only a few minutes later did he bring you over the edge with his thrusts. Your walls tightened around him, fluttering and beckoning him to finish. You moaned out your pleasure, only managing to quiet yourself when you bit your lip. The rhythm of his thrusts became off-kilter then, frantic and jerky as he chased his high.
Arthur groaned and buried his face in your neck as he came. He pressed deep into you as he pumped you full of his spend. His body went limp atop of you, which you didn’t much mind. The weight of him was momentarily grounding. Arthur’s large, calloused hand slid up to stroke at your hair mindlessly, like he always did after he came. When your body could no longer take the weight of him, you shoved at his shoulder. He pulled out and rolled off with a cheeky grin, even when you grimaced at the gush of fluids leaving you. You couldn’t even say it was just his spend, because it wasn’t. The faint red of your blood on his skin, on the towel, and on yourself was not something you could ignore, although Arthur seemed happy to.
“I guess I’m going to need another bath,” you spoke, meeting his eyes with a smirk. The candlelight glinted against the newly acquired ring on your finger.
“Anything for you, Mrs. Morgan.”