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"Arthur, I'm not sure this is a good idea."
"Don't worry about hurtin' me." He assures, his fingers twisting the cuffs of his sleeves up his thick forearms rhythmically. Forcing a dry swallow down your throat, you can't bear to tell him that you'll much sooner lose control of your hunger for him, than his blood.
He'd suggested this. Testing to see if human blood sustains you longer than the animal blood you'd been primarily living off of since your turning. Testing, with his blood.
"That's not it. It's very," Pausing, your face contorts into a grimace as you try to think of an appropriate description.
"Strange?" Arthur supplies, and you shoot him an aggravated look.
"You know what, I think I will consider draining you." He scoffs, but you don't miss the way his heart begins to thunder inside his chest. Instantly, you’re worried that you've scared him, so you backtrack. "I'm joking, I wouldn't- I'd rather you stake me through the heart if I ever tried."
"Jesus, woman. I know, I ain't worried about that. That's what I've been trying to get you to understand." He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, and you focus on the sound of his heart beating again, listening for any signs that he's lying to spare your feelings. "Stop that."
"Stop what?" You fumble to save face, eyes shooting wide in your guilt. Arthur is as quick to notice as ever, leveling you with an unimpressed stare. Turning away to sigh once more, he casts you another narrow-eyed look, without any real malice behind it, before shaking his head in exasperation.
"If it ain't strange, then what is it?" You squirm as he pins you beneath his now-hardened stare. He's losing his patience with you, and you don't have to utilize your heightened senses to figure that out.
"It's, I'm not sure this is the right word for it." If your blood worked the way it had before you'd changed, it would surely be rushing to your face by now. Burning shame against your skin as you scramble to explain the intimacy of drinking from him without giving your affections away.
"Spit it out." He urges, rising from his chair and moving towards the door.
"Where are you going?"
"I'm leavin'. No use sticking around if I've done all I came here to do." It was a fair point, as the jugs of blood he'd brought for you were now all safely tucked away in your shed, a fresh layer of snow packed over to keep the thick red liquid within them frozen until you grew hungry again.
"But, the snow?" It came out as more of a question than you'd meant it to. From a mere glance out the window, you could see that the snowfall had waned, leaving only a fresh, untouched layer of icy white crystals in its wake. He'd visited you countless times up here, in far worse weather. Hell, he'd brought you to this place, eventually telling you the story of how his gang had once taken shelter from a storm here in Colter.
"Nothin' I haven't dealt with before." You knew that, on account of him bringing you here to begin with. On the very night he'd found you bleeding out in Saint Denis and killed the monster that had turned you into something no longer human. You'd pleaded with him to take you somewhere far, far away from people, or just to kill you there. He'd spared your life, and perhaps that's where your fondness for him had first begun. It only continued to bloom as he helped you figure out how to navigate the change that had been unwillingly thrust upon you.
Arthur had been the one to figure out that you were able to consume animal blood just as easily as the blood of humans, first catching you a rabbit to feed from, before he got into the habit of bleeding the animals he would already be hunting to provide for his family. He'd bought you your first cowboy hat, large brim blocking the sun that seemed to burn you just a little bit easier in your new skin.
The process of your change had been slow, in the sense that it was not instantaneous. Change did not warp you in one fell swoop on the night that your life had been drained through your neck. The blood your killer had fed you from his wrist melded with what little was left of your own, rebuilding your body over the course of a few weeks. Your looks hadn't changed much, aside from the addition of sharpened teeth and nails, and your skin lost any indication of fatigue.
While your physical appearance had undergone very little change, what resided inside of you had warped into something beyond recognition. A newfound strength simmered beneath your skin, coiled around every muscle, tendon, and molecule of your genetic makeup, rendering you new, different.
Your senses were heightened to lengths you'd never fathomed possible, and your emotions became much clearer, as if you could reach inside of yourself and wrap a clawed hand around the feeling you so desired and bring it forward, cleanse it of your blood, and inspect it with your sharpened eyes. Except, the hands that so often latched onto your emotions were not your own.
As of late, those hands had been scarred from years of gunslinging. Hands that were molded to hold the smooth, curved grip of a revolver. Or the worn, peeling leather of reins atop a big black shire horse. Hands that were surely not meant to be sullied with that eager, bloody heart of yours.
You knew you'd have desired Arthur before your change- if you'd even met him. You'd never questioned your feelings for the man; sure as the sun sets and the moon rises, you knew you were falling for Arthur Morgan. You admired everything about him, from the generosity he so eagerly denied, to the strength of his body and character he so easily exuded, to the loyalty he so evidently has for those he holds close. His feelings for you, however, were entirely a mystery to you, and it didn't seem very likely that anyone could love a creature like you. Let alone Arthur, who had only ever known you as this terrible thing that you'd become.
"It's already night, though. You should stay till the morning when you're less likely to run into wolves or bears." You were scrambling now, the outlaw before you had ridden at all hours, day or night, and you knew he was more than capable.
He didn't even deign to answer that, just as aware as you were that he would be fine.
"Either you tell me what's got you so worried about this, if it's not you killin' me, or I'm leavin'."
Sucking in a big breath, you nodded, the tense strain in your shoulders easing as Arthur moved to sit back down at the table across from you. Scolding yourself, you mustered up the courage to tell him. With all that Arthur had done for you, the very least he deserved was your honesty, as terrifying as it might be to give.
"It's initially painful." He huffed, and you could see the 'Really, that's it?' plastered across his expression. Before he could voice it, you continued. "That's not what I'm worried about." Arthur cooled his expression from his previous frustration, and his gaze became unwavering as he waited for you to elaborate.
"It's intimate. Human blood is addictive; it's an indulgence. I know that I can control myself, it's not that I’ll drink too much from you, but it's intoxicating. It might influence me to... behave differently. Similar to how alcohol sometimes makes people too comfortable when they shouldn't be."
"Alright. I understand." You're startled by his easy acceptance.
"You do?" He nods, standing again before he speaks.
"M' sorry I pushed you to tell me. If you're uncomfortable drinkin' from me, that's enough reason as any. I should probably get goin' anyway." Your heart plummets into your stomach. That is not the message you had been trying to convey.
"No! No, Arthur, I am not uncomfortable with you. It's the complete opposite." He freezes, the hand that had been rising to place his hat onto his head stalling mid-air. Taking his stillness as a sign that he's listening, you rise from your seat and continue.
"I'm afraid I'm already far too comfortable with you, Arthur. Embarrassingly so, and I'm worried I'll make a damn fool of myself- that if you give me an inch I'll take a mile." After you'd risen from your chair, your feet had remained planted in fear that you'd spook him if you approached.
A large gap remained between the two of you, one that you'd left intentionally to give him some semblance of protection from the weight of your feelings. You were all too familiar with their greed, no, your greed. Your hunger. Granting Arthur this glimpse of it would surely save him from the full brunt of either. He'd take one look at the gnarled claws of your desire, peeking out from the cellar you'd done so well at locking them away in, and he'd understand what you were protecting him from. He'd stomp on those reaching fingers, lock them back up in that cellar, and ignore their incessant howling until it quieted to a whimper, just as you had.
Your pulse fights its way into your throat as you watch him set his hat back onto the hook beside your door. It settles beside your own, the soft rustle of the two brushing against each other before his settles into place is the only noise within the cabin. You remain silent, holding your breath in wait.
The hunger is back and biting as you watch him shed his bulky winter coat, the wide breadth of his shoulders rippling with the action. Another dry swallow is forced down your throat, blood the last thing on your mind. In two easy, long strides, he is back at the table, laying his coat over the back of the chair that might as well have his name etched into it. Finally, he looks to you, and you can hear his heart start to race, but the look on his face is the warmest thing you've ever seen, and it begins to dawn on you that maybe it isn't fear eliciting that response. Maybe it was never fear.
"You should know by now that you can take whatever you want from me."
The cellar door has been blown clean off, the lock blasted to bits by the deadeye of a man standing before you, and everything once contained within it spills into a heap on the floor at Arthur's feet. You're moving towards him with a speed you're sure is unnatural, but his hands reach out and catch you by the hips as if it is in their nature to be there.
You think it must be. He doesn't spare a moment before you are being pulled against him, so gently that the notion cracks against your heart. He knows full well the durability of your body, but he holds you against him so carefully, gazes into your eyes so tenderly that you're sure you must be fooling him. You must have some sort of untapped power to manipulate that is making him look at you as if you are something precious and beautiful, and not the monstrous thing that you are.
"I'm not sure I'm even human anymore." The admission comes quietly.
"I've thought the same about myself for a long, long time. Though you're startin' to make me see different."
His hands trail up from your waist, and they are scalding as they press to the sides of your face. The temperature of your body had dropped since its transformation. This made living up here in the snow-covered mountains easy for you. The freezing temperatures hadn't elicited as much as a shiver from you; you'd been pleasantly immune to the cold, shiverless.
Now, however, you couldn't seem to fight them off with the heat of Arthur's hands upon you, so wide that they span from your cheekbones down your neck.
"Kiss me, Arthur." You plead, and he is nothing if not generous.
"Yes, ma'am." And his lips are on yours. Soft, gentle, and searing.
He grips you tighter to pull you closer, and you all but climb onto him, hooking your arms around his neck and hoisting yourself up against his unwavering, brick-house of a frame.
He smiles against your lips, dropping his hands to scoop you up beneath your ass, holding you up as if you're the lightest thing in the world. You shouldn't be surprised, you knew he was strong with the giant animals you'd seen him heave over his shoulder and onto his horse, but knowing and experiencing were two completely different things.
You much prefer this experience.
Reveling in his strength as he lays you back against the table, your hands travel up his biceps, squeezing the straining muscle and eliciting groans that you lap up with your tongue in his mouth.
Sacrificing the delicious joy of squeezing his biceps, you move your hands to trail down his chest, lower, lower until- a big hand stops you.
"Easy, girl." He chuckles, breaking apart from your mouth. You're left gaping and liquid beneath him.
"Still got to test somethin', don't we?" You're too dumbstruck from his kiss to respond, your mouth moving around words that won't form, a frown etched into your brows as you try to come back to yourself. The clawing, biting emotions you'd tried so hard to keep under control are now docile, purring and putty beneath Arthur's hands.
"Take this off for me, darlin." He tugs on the hem of your shirt, and you spring into motion, undoing the buttons as quickly as you can. Until you look up, greedy thing that you are, to get another peek at Arthur, and you find yourself unable to look away as he sheds his shirt.
He catches your stare as he finishes pulling off his shirt, a sly grin spreading across his face.
"Need help?" His voice is a low rumble that sparks along your skin. That smug smirk stuck on his mouth. A glare lacking sincerity is directed at him before you grab your shirt, still buttoned, and tear it clean off your body.
Arthur's eyebrows raise in amusement.
"Was tryin' to spare your shirt from gettin' blood on it, but that works too."
He moves to lean over you, and you descend onto your back, arms once more wrapping around his neck and welcoming him into your space as if he's always belonged there.
"How do you want me?" He murmurs, pressing a kiss against your jaw, then your neck, then your bare chest, sliding the strap of your chemise to the side to access the skin there.
"Naked, preferably." You purr, and he huffs against your neck.
"We'll get to that, eventually." He assures you, placing a bite against your collarbone before pushing himself up onto his forearms. His hands intertwine above your head, finding purchase against the crown of your skull as he stares down at you expectantly.
Unable to contain your elation, your face is warm as you smile up at him, and it grows warmer at the soft grin he gives in return. His thumbs move, brushing strands of hair off your forehead, and you take a moment to admire the blush creeping up his neck and face before you respond.
"Your wrist, I think, would be best." Nodding, he lifts one arm from your head, moving to give you his wrist, before you remember something so important you can't believe you forgot, and call out for him to wait. If he's startled by your exclamation, he doesn't show it, moving off of you as you get up to shimmy off your skirt. He sits in his chair again, watching as you undress before him.
"Not that I'm opposed, but why are you takin' your clothes off now?"
"I'm not taking everything off, yet. I just needed to grab this." You emphasize your point by pulling the bottom of your chemise up to expose a dagger strapped to your thigh. The dagger Arthur had given you after he killed a man in Saint Denis- the man who had turned you.
A frown appears between Arthur's brows as you hand the dagger to him. He turns it over in his palm, thumbing the ornate blade.
"What's this for?" He knows the answer, but he's not fond of it.
"Just in case you need it."
"I ain't gonna need it."
"Arthur, please. It'll bring me peace of mind." The dagger drops to the floor beside him with a loud thud as he lets it go.
"I trust you." His eyes are locked onto yours, trying to get his sincerity across.
"I know, I know. And it means the world to me, but I don't want to risk losing control and hurting you."
"You won't."
"Arthur, I know I didn't explain it very much, but the depth of my feelings for you is far greater than anything I've ever felt before. I don't know how that will influence me, and if I lost control and harmed you in any way, I would never forgive myself." His frown only deepens.
"And how do you think I would feel? Puttin' a dagger through your heart 'cause I couldn't handle a little bite. I won't touch that thing, and you won't hurt me."
You sigh, moving to pick up the dagger and ready to plead your case once more, but he catches you around the waist before you can reach for the shining metal.
"Listen to me." He urges, twisting you to face him. "You won't hurt me, I'll help you if you start losin' control of yourself, but I know you won't. Hell, we've gotten this far without killin' each other."
Your heart strains against your ribcage, beating so fast that you almost mistake yourself as human once more.
"Okay?" One big, rough palm cups your face, a calloused thumb stroking the skin beneath your eye.
"Okay." You nod, molten in the face of his touch.
"Atta girl." He pats your ass once, grinning up at you when you startle. "Now let's get you fed, reckon we got more exciting things to get up to." The wide, eager grin that sweeps across your face nearly knocks the air from Arthur's lungs, and he thinks that he'd probably let you tear his heart straight from his chest and suck the blood right out of it if you so asked, but his wrist will do for now.
If he’d thought you’d robbed him of his breath before, all the oxygen in the cabin seems to vanish when he watches you sink to your knees before him. His legs are spread wide to make space for you, and you shuffle between them eagerly, pressing your right shoulder against his left knee. He presses his right knee back towards you, two solid thighs carefully holding your body between them.
There’s a hitch in Arthur’s breath as you reverently take hold of his wrist, brushing your smooth lips across the fragile skin that guards his veins. Nose pressed against his pulse point, you inhale, and the response is instantaneous. Fangs unveil as your mouth drops open to breathe him in deeper, the space beneath your tongue flooding with saliva as a groan sweeps through your body. Wet tongue swipes across his skin, and your lips follow closely behind, latching onto the ridges of his arteries.
“You want my blood, or just my sweat?” He huffs humorously, but you don’t miss the way his eyes are locked onto your mouth, blue-green irises nearly shrouded by lids heavy with desire.
“I want whatever you’ll give me.” It’s murmured against him, your lips scarcely willing to part from his skin.
“Go on then, take it.” He speaks low and rough, a command you’re eager to follow. Lips parting once more, the tips of your sharpest teeth rest against his skin, and you glance up at him for permission, even as your jaw aches with the urge to bite.
He nods once, not an ounce of hesitation in his low-lidded stare that sends heat straight to your core, and you only look away to watch where you finally sink your fangs into him. You’re careful to avoid puncturing his arteries, unwilling to risk taking more blood than he can safely lose. Arthur doesn’t flinch as the sharpness of your teeth tear through his flesh, and his free hand rises to the back of your head, cradling it in encouragement.
It’s euphoric, the taste of him. Red hot iron fills your mouth, spreading across your tongue into something heady and addictive. Arthur’s blood spills down your throat, and you take one indulgent gulp before you pull your teeth out of his skin. Blood continues to spill, dribbling out of the twin puncture wounds, and your tongue catches it devotedly.
You’re careful not to push into the wound, acutely aware that this is Arthur you’re feeding from. His hand tightens in your hair as you lap at his wrist, and you can’t help the groans of pleasure that escape you as you sanctify his skin from blood.
“That’s it, good girl.” Arthur’s praise lights a fire in your stomach, and you remove a hand from his wrist, settling it onto his thigh. His rapt focus on your mouth is broken as your fingers crawl upwards, sliding along the solid mass of his inner thigh.
Your desire is a writhing being within you, pacing at Arthur’s feet, waiting for his permission to take what you really want. The more of his blood you consume, the harder it is to ignore how much you crave him, all of him. From his deep kindness that he tried so hard to hide to his physical strength that he wielded so carefully with you. It drove you mad from the moment he’d saved you- a stranger, to every time he returned to these frozen mountains to check in on you. As your friendship had grown, so had your fondness for him, and now that you knew it was reciprocated, you couldn’t fight off the want, the need.
Air is sucked sharply behind his teeth as your hand meets where he strains against his beat up jeans. You’re still cleansing his wrist, diligently clearing any remnant of blood away from him between soft kisses, but your hand is working quickly. The strength imbued into your new body is present in your fingers as you swiftly pull his zipper down and tug his pants away from his waist, and it's there when you get your hand in his pants and cup him that you finally abandon his wrist.
He’s hot, heavy, and thick against your eager palm. Pressing and rubbing against him, you shuffle your body closer. Tucked between his thighs, you rise onto your knees, urging him to lift his hips. Your lips find his again, his hands returning to their rightful position on either side of your face. You taste iron as his blood mixes with your saliva, and you nip at his lip, hungry for more. It trickles across your lips, and he moans into your mouth at the softness of your tongue against the stinging flesh. With a lingering suck, you pull away from his mouth to breathe. The sight of his lips smeared with blood has your pupils dilating in a way that you’re sure can’t be human, but Arthur only groans out his pleasure as you dive back in to lick him clean.
Sinking back, you observe him removing his gunbelt, and your gaze must be starving as you watch his fingers work it off.
He watches you with heavy eyelids, his hands hooking into his pants and working them off his waist. Meeting his gaze, you take over, pulling them off of him, boots and all, in one swift pull. A breathy chuckle puffs out of his chest at your ardent display. As endearing as his joy is, you don’t leave time for laughter, too hellbent on getting him in your mouth.
“Can I?” It’s whispered, your eyes wide and waiting, hands perched at the edge of his linen drawers. Arthur has to take a long, slow blink to collect himself.
“You don’t have to.” He assures, eyes open and heart thundering.
“I know. I want to.” His breath is punched out of him in a whoosh, and he nods his permission. In an instant, you’re sitting back on your heels again, licking your lips now free of the heavenly trace of his blood and stripping him bare.
Saliva sits impatiently in your mouth, and you let it spill from your lips onto his hard, bare length. Your hands encompass him, struggling to wrap entirely around him, and your stomach flips at that.
Languidly, you stroke him, simultaneously tilting your head to the side to lick at the weeping head of his cock.
His groans sound almost pained at your movements.
“Sensitive?” You purr, dipping even farther to lave your tongue against the underside of him, closing your lips around his protruding veins and sucking.
“Shit. ‘S been a while.” He ends the sentiment with another low groan. You know then that you truly must be evil, and it has nothing to do with your vampirism; you’d drag this out forever, torment him as long as he could bear, just to keep hearing his pleasure.
“Lucky you, we have a while.” You grin, tightening your grip and pumping him in your hand.
“You’ll be the death of me, woman.”
“Only if you want me to be.”
“It would be an end most honorable.”
“Stop distracting me.” You emphasize your point with a squeeze of your hand and a swipe of your tongue.
“I’d never- christ- dream of it.” He chokes on his words as you take him into your mouth, humming your response. His head tilts back, no shortage of choked-out moans and praises spilling from his mouth.
He’s flushed all over, chest heaving as your cheeks hollow around him, tongue pressing against him with a constant determination. You swallow around him when his tip reaches the back of your throat, your hands- one gripping his thigh, and one resting against the healthy layer of fat guarding his muscled pelvis- curl inwards, the sharp tips of your nails indenting the skin beneath them.
The weight of him in your mouth is divine, and before you realize it, your heel is beneath you, and your hips are steadily rocking against, desperate for friction. When Arthur’s head tips forward again to watch your lips stretch around him, he’s immediately aware of the movement.
“Fuck, you enjoyin’ this?” You manage a nod, humming an “mhm” around him. Your hand on his thigh moves to cup his balls, applying the faintest pressure with your fingers and kneading them carefully.
Arthur reels at this, his hands sliding into your hair, and he restrains himself to not grip or pull too tight. Rewarding him for this thoughtfulness, you work your jaw around him faster, twisting your mouth around him and sucking with your tongue, hard. His moan shatters as it leaves his lips, his voice shaking and stuttering in his blind pleasure.
“M’ gonna-” He starts, and you hum once more, pushing yourself all the way down against him till your nose is nestled in the tuft of hair at the base of his cock. He finishes like this, spilling down your throat, and you swallow it all.
You slide your tongue up the underside of him as you slide him out of your throat, catching the remnants of his release on your tongue and sucking it clean within your mouth. Wiping the spit from your face, you're pleased to note that he’s still half hard. Hand moving to wrap around him again, he catches your wrist.
“Afraid I owe you now.” His voice is rough, low with a promise.
“Another time, I don’t think I can stand not having you inside of me for a moment longer.” You’re being forward, you know, but you can't find it within yourself to feel shame.
Arthur doesn’t seem to mind if the way he hauls you up into his lap is anything to go by.
“Only time I’ll be grateful for a debt.”
“I’ll be sure to collect it in due time, Mr. Morgan.” His thumb is on your clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles that make pleasure jump up through you. Your head drops forward to the junction between his neck and shoulder, your hands fall to the plush muscle of his chest, and his spare arm wraps low around your waist.
“Arthur.” Your warning lacks heat behind it, your voice hoarse as his thick fingers graze along your entrance.
“Gotta make sure you’re ready for me, darlin’.”
You don’t get a chance to respond before he’s sinking a finger inside of you. You rock against him, whining against his neck when it's not enough.
“More, Arthur.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He obeys, sliding another in beside the first. He curls them upwards, grazing a spot inside of you that makes you jolt against him, your nipples pebbled against the cotton of your chemise. The friction is too much, and you pull back from his chest to remove your last bit of clothing. Arthur is quick to admire, eyes roving over your bare form as his fingers continue to pump inside of you.
“Beautiful thing.” He groans against your skin, lips planted in the center of your chest above your breasts. He’s quick to pay attention to those too, smooth tongue rolling against your nipple before his mouth latches on to suck, only stopping to speak.
“Too pretty for me.” It’s barely a breath before he’s blowing cool air against your wet nipple.
“No.” You gasp out, arching into him at the feeling. When he moves his head towards your other breast, you tangle your hands into his hair, pulling his head back to meet your gaze. His fingers are still battering against that spot inside you that has your walls clenching around him.
“You’re so gorgeous, Arthur. M’ always thinking about you.” You choke on a gasp as his thumb presses against your clit once more, working in tandem with the fingers inside of you.
“I’m a bad man, sweetheart.” The look he gives you hurts your chest. He’s so full of self-deprecation, and you reach up to smooth the furrow between his brows with your thumbs.
“You’re so good to me. So good to the people you love.” He can’t seem to argue as his attention is drawn to the movement of your hips, chasing his fingers. Fingers that have taken countless lives are now being used for something so sacred, so delicate.
“Gonna cum.” You moan, pulling his head closer to you, pressing his body as tight against your as you can manage.
“C’mon.” Fingers speed up inside of you, grasping your approaching climax and slamming it down into you.
“Fuck, fuck, Arthur fuck-” You’re shaking in his arms, and he guides you through it, strong and steady.
“There we go. That’s my girl.”
Sighing into his mouth, you’re kissing him again, your hand reaching down to grab where he’s now fully hard. He’s grunting into your mouth as you drag the head of his cock through your slit, coating him in your release.
When he notches against your dripping hole, your breathing stutters, and you have to break away from the kiss as he slowly begins to sink into you. Arthur’s just as awestruck at the feeling as you are, and all either of you can manage is to lean against one another, forehead to forehead. Blue-green eyes are locked onto yours, mere inches apart and unblinking.
Hips begin to rock in tandem, his up and yours down, until flesh meets flesh. His jaw drops as you begin to ride him in earnest, your thighs encasing his and squeezing to keep yourself held up. Your hips roll rhythmically down onto him, and his hands find their familiar purchase around your waist.
His grip is firm as he pulls you down on top of him and he drives up into you, rolling against the spot his fingers had worked into, and another far deeper inside of you. It’s a relentless pursuit, and neither of you can look away from the other. You’re gasping and moaning into Arthur’s mouth, and he’s panting and grunting into yours.
A litany of curses spill from your mouth, and he can’t contain his smile that, for your sake, he hides against your chest, planting devout kisses against your cool skin as his penance. A calloused thumb finds your clit once more, and he’s sucking marks into your skin as he begins to coax another orgasm out of you.
Your hands roam his broad torso, claws scraping carefully across his chest and fingers tracing the canvas of scars painted upon him.
“So pretty.” You murmur into the skin below his ear, and he shudders beneath you. Your core clenches in response, and his arms wrap tight around you. Pressed close to one another, you move in spectacular unity. He’s so deep within you, spreading your welcoming walls so wide.
You feel incredible around him, velvet and warm. Your pleasure is dripping down onto his thighs, and he can hear it squelch as his cock pushes it back up into you, sticky white ring around its base.
He’s close, you can feel it in the stutter of his hips, and hear it in his strained tone.
“Feel so good. Closest a man like me’ll get to heaven.”
You’re close, he can feel it in the tightening of your walls around him, and hear it in your keening gasps.
“Oh- oh god, Arthur. Arthur, Arthur.” You chant his name like it’ll rescue you, grant you relief from this excruciating ecstasy that he elicits. You’ve never felt this way before, never experienced anything so electrifying that it clouded your every sense and made every nerve in your body ignite.
Together, you reach that crescendo. It tears you limb from limb, sews you back together with a heart shaped like Arthur Morgan. You think you’ll never be the same, never know a satisfaction like this again. It settles beneath your flesh, deep into your bones, harbored in their marrow and threatening to burst.
Arthur has no more luck than you, his body weightless and so, so heavy all at once. He’s content to his very core, and there is a warmth in his chest that he’s sure could eat him alive if not for the cool press of your skin against his. You’ve changed him in ways he’s yet to discover; he’s sure of it.
And later that night, as you’re cooking a meal only Arthur can consume, that discovery comes sooner than he expected.
“Well, would ya look at that.” You glance over at Arthur, seated on your bed, expecting him to be commenting on the storm now raging outside the warmth of the cabin. What you find instead is a bare wrist, one that only an hour ago held the mark of the two sharpest teeth within your mouth.
Eyebrows rising in surprise, you pad over to him and take his wrist into your careful grip. You press into his large side, holding his arm out in your lap and tracing your thumb over where the two marks had been.
“How is that possible?”
“Guess we’ll just have to figure it out.” He shrugs, unbothered, and you have no reason to fight the smile that crawls up your face. You nod in agreement, pecking his wrist before giving his arm back to him.
“Guess so.”