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ivoryfioritura · 10 months

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The Evening Song

This little one shot fic is originally posted on AO3, decided to post here as well!

Please do not repost my work to any platforms.

AO3 link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48095656

I love comments, and since I’ve finally decided to post my writing, I’m gonna roll with it so I am taking requests!

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The only notable sensations in your body are heat and pain. You’re vaguely aware of the continued sounds of gunfire and shouting, but mostly your ears are just filled with a shrill ringing. The sun beats on your skin, and the rocks beneath you dig into your back, amplifying the agony of the heat searing through your shoulder blade like a branding iron. You aren’t entirely sure who shot you - it could have been any one of those Lamoyne Raider bastards that ambushed your group. The only thing you’re acutely aware of, aside from the pain lancing through your shoulder, is the sound of Arthur’s voice breaking as he had shouted your name, moments before the bullet had found its mark within the muscle and sinew of your gun arm. The pure panic in his voice, panic you’d never heard there before, echoes through your mind as the shots ring out slower, eventually fading out entirely before unconsciousness sweeps you under.

——

Blinking into the sun, you become aware of the solid press of something warm on your back, the equally warm press of a large, splayed hand against your stomach, holding you upright in the saddle of a familiar horse. Words are being breathed into the back of your head, whispers so soft that their contents are lost in the tangled mess of your hair before reaching your ears. The comforting smell of leather, tobacco, and sage wraps around you and you breathe it in, sagging further back into the wall of strength behind you, and you allow your body and mind to fall back into the sweet embrace of darkness.

——

The next time you wake, you find yourself in the medical supply wagon, back at camp. You remember only flashes of how you arrived back here - a man hoisting you up in front of him on his horse, holding you close to him, words like prayers pouring over you from his mouth. Glancing down over yourself, you see that you’re still in your riding pants, but your overshirt has been torn open and removed from your wounded shoulder, which is now wrapped in fresh gauze. Pain lances all the way down your arm and reaches out across your entire chest and upper back as you attempt to lift yourself to a sitting position. Ms. Grimshaw’s presence near you becomes known with a disapproving huff, and she hurries over to aid your movement with a firm hand at your back.

“Glad to see you’re back with the living, dear. I think you gave them boys a right scare.” Grimshaw’s face is disapproving as always, but you don’t think you’re imagining the hint of relief you can see shining in her eyes.

“Oh, I’m just fine, Ms. Grimshaw. I think we’ve all been shot a time or two.” You try to say this with a smirk, but it turns to a grimace as you shift your shoulder, feeling with agonizing clarity the two holes that bullet left in your body. “At least it was a through and through hit. I’ll be back to work in no time.” Grimshaw simply clicks her tongue at you in annoyance, and saunters back off to yell at whichever of the girls isn’t carrying her weight today.

Sighing, you lean back against the inside wall of the wagon, gritting your teeth against each movement. To the left of you are several tonics stacked against the crates lining the outside of the wagon, and you shift your weight to try and reach the one you want. It’s just a hair too far away, and the hand supporting you slips, causing you to tip over and slam into the wooden slats beneath you. With a shout of pain, and a grunt of annoyance, you gingerly lift yourself back to a sitting position using your good arm. You tilt your head back against the wall, lifting your gaze to the dusty ceiling, and decide you’ll give yourself three deep breaths before you try again. God damn this injury - you’ve never felt this completely helpless before. Just as you’re readying yourself for another attempt at simply getting yourself the tonic you need, the sound of approaching boots on gravel pricks your ears, and you turn your head in their direction.

“Well, look at’chu. So battle-torn you can’t even grab the medicine sittin’ three feet away from ya.” The approaching outlaw meets your gaze from beneath the brim of his hat, a teasing glint in his eyes and that stupid grin on his face. He snatches up the bottle you were reaching for, and slides it across the wagon floor into your grasp.

You roll your eyes dramatically, scowling at him as you uncork the bottle and raise it to your lips. He tracks your movements with those intense eyes of his, no longer filled with teasing lightness, and you swallow down the whole thing. “Nice of you to finally come and visit me, Arthur. What took ya so long? I’ve been awake for nearly ten whole minutes, and I figured you’d be here to give me shit after about five.”

He tilts his head down and gives a low laugh, his calloused hands finding rest on his gun belt before he lifts his gaze to your bandaged shoulder, the wound now slightly agitated and causing blood to bloom across the previously pristine white cotton. There’s a seriousness there, behind the facade of his teasing smile, and he looks to be trying to settle on what to say before clearing his throat and lowering his head once again. “I’m just glad you’re alright. Coulda been real bad, had that bullet hit you a couple inches over.” He scuffs a boot across the dirt in front of him, then finally looks at you again, his expression less serious and more the casual, smug expression you’re used to seeing on him. “Better rest up, sweetheart. Uncle and the Reverend are all the dead weight we can afford to carry.” He winks at you with a grin, and turns to walk back to the other side of camp from which he came.

“Fuck you, too, darlin’!” You shout after his retreating from, your voice sweet as honey and a sarcastic smile on your face. You see his shoulders jostling in quiet laughter as he shakes his head and rounds a corner, out of sight. A small chuckle escapes you too as you lay back down on your makeshift cot to get the rest that was requested of you. You try not to think about those emotions you saw flitting across his face when he took in the state of you, assuring yourself he’d be just as concerned if any other members of the gang had been shot. The tonic you took begins to set in, making your body feel lighter and your head heavier. As you close your eyes and drift off back to sleep, you note the scent of leather, tobacco, and sage dancing around your nostrils in Arthur’s wake.

——Five Weeks Later——

“Goddammit!” Your exasperated shout echos off the cliffs to your right, and the cloud of dust and rocks you’ve just kicked up in your frustration begins to settle in front of you. Behind that dust cloud, a particular outlaw leans against the fencepost you’ve been aiming at, clad in all black attire, his shirt unbuttoned low enough to reveal a trail of sweat glistening down the column of his throat, pooling in the groove of his collarbone. He looks like death incarnate, and you choose to roll your eyes at his choice of attire in the summer heat, rather than continue tracing the sweat rolling down onto unseen skin. Once those thoughts are out of your mind and you’re able to meet his gaze again, you can see that he’s smirking at your little outburst, and shaking his head in mock disapproval at the two bottles still remaining untouched on the fence.

“Three out of five ain’t terrible and you know it. My damn gun arm was completely mangled just five weeks ago, you know.” You puff up your chest in indignation, already reloading the Schofield in your hand to blast the remaining two bottles. You accomplish it in little more than a blink, and once nothing but lingering smoke and shards of glass remain, you give Arthur a grin.

“I didn’t say nothin, darlin’.” He holds up his hands in mock surrender and saunters closer to you. “I think you’re comin’ along just fine in your recovery. Honest.” He does look sincere, but with your history of nonstop teasing banter you’re unsure if you can trust it. His hands go to his gun belt and he sighs, stopping a few feet in front of you. “I know you want to get back out there with us. And I promise, once I think you’re ready, there’s nobody I’d rather go robbing with.” He gives you a lazy smile, and you hate that his words affect you the way they do.

“Just wish I’d have seen who shot me. Wish I could have at least gotten him before I passed out.” The gravelly dirt beneath your boots crunches as you idly kick the small rocks in front of you.

“Don’t worry. He was on the ground before you were.” You look up at Arthur as he speaks, his tone icy. His brows are furrowed and his gaze is dark, murderous, and completely trained on yours. “The way you dropped, I thought” His voice breaks along with his eye contact before he continues with a low, dangerous rasp, “I thought they got you. That bullet looked like it went clean through your heart. I don’t remember much between that and getting you on my horse. Just know all those bastards are dead. I made sure of it.”

You stand rooted in place with shock, and you try to swallow the dryness in your throat as Arthur takes another step towards you, looking back up at you from beneath the brim of his hat. “I didn’t realize it was you that brought me back here. I was knocked out pretty much the whole time.” This is a lie, of course, as you were fairly certain weeks ago that you had pieced together exactly who had been holding onto you like a stolen treasure, racing you back through the woods into camp. The intensity of his gaze searing into you suddenly becomes far too much to bear, and you look down at your feet. “You really killed all of them? There had to be more than half a dozen men in that ambush, and only three of us.”

“Javier killed one of ‘em before you got shot. After that, he says it was just me. Like I said, sort of blacked out a bit at that point.” You can tell he’s not trying to brag, just telling it like it was. There’s no hint of pride in his stare when you glance back up at him. What you do see is a raw openness, completely foreign to you. You tilt your head and look at him, feeling unsure of your footing on this uncharted ground. He simply stares back at you with those oceanic eyes, and takes the remaining step towards you, now standing chest to chest, his face turned down towards yours. His mouth works on unspoken words, and he slowly reaches his hand up to brush away a tendril of your wild hair that had fallen over your face. “I can’t stand the thought of you not bein’ around. I was goin’ out of my mind, thinking maybe I’d never get a chance to do this.”

Before you can open your mouth to ask what he means, he trails his hand through the tresses of your hair, cupping the back of your head as he leans into you, his lips a tentative question against your own. It feels like lightning, his hand on your scalp, his breath on your skin. You press your lips against his, just as tentatively, and you share a moment of calm - your bodies pressed against each other, your lips exploring, his hand tightening its grasp in your hair. You can’t think, can’t take a full breath. How long has he been wanting this? How many years with this gang have you laid awake at night, silently touching yourself with his name on your lips, when you could have just gone to him? Your hands fist the fabric of his shirt, pulling the heat of him impossibly closer to you, feeling his heart beating wildly against your own. When your tongue dances exploratively across his bottom lip, you can feel something snap inside of him. The calmness is gone, the sudden heat of the moment marked by an almost feral groan in his throat.

He grips your waist in a bruising hold with his free hand, and you wrap your arms up around his shoulders, feeling the way his muscles roll and move beneath the skintight fabric there. His lips chase yours, his tongue now exploring your mouth with fervor. Your breath mingles together, coming hot and heavy as you continue to meld your lips to his. Nothing matters to you in this moment save for your tongues battling in hard caresses, teeth clacking together as you can feel his hunger reach a breaking point.

You realize belatedly that Arthur has been steering you both backwards, taking you fully into his arms as he presses you against one of the trees peppering the terrain. You feel the cool breeze hit your moistened lips and whimper at the loss of him, but without wasting a moment his lips are seeking the soft skin behind your ear, and you moan at the feeling of his stubble scratching the sensitive curve of your neck. His hold on your waist tightens almost imperceptibly and he all but growls into your ear, “Such pretty little noises, sweetheart.”

A shiver runs all the way through you at the sound of his voice, and your hips press harder against his own, allowing you to feel the growing length beneath his gun belt, straining against the buttons of his trousers. A groan escapes his lips then, and he scrapes his teeth down the juncture of your neck and shoulder, soothing it with his tongue afterwards. Suddenly aware of how locked in place you’ve been, you start to hurriedly push his suspenders down his arms, followed by his over-shirt and union suit, your fingers fumbling on the buttons. Your mouth dips to his toned shoulders then, almost of its own volition. You taste the salt of his sweat and the musky flavor of his skin, eyes rolling back into your head as his hands drift down to grip your ass, hoisting you up until you’re forced to wrap your legs around his hips. He holds you up like that, showing absolutely no difficultly keeping you there, his muscles barely even straining with your weight. You focus on his breath, lips, and tongue still working their way across your neck and shoulder, the bark on the tree digging into your skin through your shirt, and his now rock hard length pressing deliciously against your aching center. You feel completely ungrounded, entirely weightless as if you could float away were it not for Arthur’s hands beneath you keeping you steady.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this, Arthur.” Your voice comes out breathless, each word an effort to escape your mouth as your chest heaves with the pleasure this man is pulling out of you. His hot chuckle against your skin is the only confirmation you get that he heard you at first, but then he’s lifting his mouth from your skin, and unbuttoning your shirt with an almost unnatural fluidity to his movements. He rips the shirt from your body once its opened, taking greater care on your still slightly sore shoulder. His eyes rove your newly exposed torso, widening almost imperceptibly as they behold your full breasts, your rosy nipples peaked with pleasure. Lowering you gently until you’re standing before him, his hands caress your bare skin as he looks deeply into your eyes.

“I’ve probably wanted it longer, darlin’. If I’d have known…” You cut him off with another bruising kiss, your hands free to explore his firm body now that you’re steady on your feet. He moans softly into your mouth, setting your desire freshly ablaze. The soft breeze blows across your bare torsos, causing you to shiver slightly and press yourself closer into his warmth. His gaze on you is searing as he brushes his strong hands up and down your sides, along the curve of your breasts and back down to your hips. There’s a question in his eyes as his fingers linger along the buttons of your pants, and you answer him with a small nod and a smile. He mirrors that smile with his own as he begins to slowly, gently peel them down to your ankles, kneeling to remove your boots and socks with that same gentleness, his touch on your bare legs like fire. You watch him from above, smiling a bit as you tilt your head, wonderstruck at this trained killer, knelt before you like he’s in a house of worship. You run your fingers through his hair, knocking back his hat, and he looks up at you with stars in his eyes, his fingers rubbing circles into the backs of your calves. He kisses his way back up your legs, thumbs hooking beneath your bloomers, and he maintains eye contact as he slowly pulls those down as well, helping you step out of them. His eyes seem to be memorizing your body now as he traces his gaze across every bare inch of you, the reverence there not allowing space for your own self-consciousness. You marvel for a moment at how powerful you feel, standing naked before this man.

His lips begin to make their way back up your legs, and still kneeling, his mouth nears the slick arousal now painted on the insides of your thighs. Your breath catches and you let out a soft whimper as his tongue laps up the moisture there without hesitation and he growls, deep and primal in his chest. His eyes meet yours, his heated gaze alone pinning you back against the tree. Steadying one of your legs in a firm grasp in his hand, he lifts your other leg and slings it up over his shoulder, baring your glistening core to him entirely. He licks his lips and bites his bottom lip, inhaling the scent of you deeply. You blush at the animalistic look on his face, and without further warning his mouth is upon you, the sensation making your head fall back against the sharp bark behind you with a long moan.

“You don’t know what them noises do to me, girl. And this pretty cunt of yours…” He growls against you, his hot breath ghosting along your entrance, making you moan even deeper. With a growl, he adjusts his legs beneath him, seating himself more comfortably as his lips and tongue continue their pleasurable assault. His tongue laps at you, diving into your core and then dragging back up to circle the sensitive bud nestled above. A gasp escapes your lips, and you close your eyes, running your fingers continuously through his tousled hair. The indecent noises coming from his mouth as he completely devours you only stokes the flames of your arousal higher, until soon enough you begin to feel that delicious, familiar tingling sensation in your extremities, the tightening of your muscles a signal to Arthur as well, and he brings up his free hand to stroke a thick finger through your folds, collecting your moisture there before circling it against your entrance and slowly pushing up into you, your cunt fluttering happily around the intrusion. His tongue never slows, circling and lapping against your clit as his finger slides torturously slowly in and out of you.

“A-Arthur…” You stutter out his name on a breathy moan, silver undoubtedly lining your eyes as he brings your pleasure to a fever-pitch, that tightening in your belly near to snapping. His eyes flick up and lock onto yours, and the bastard gives you a smug grin right as you feel him add a second finger and hook them inside of you, massaging the rough pads of them across the spongey area along your inner wall, making you see stars.

His hair gripped in your fingers, the scrape of his stubble on your inner thighs. His delicious tongue helping you ride out the explosion of pleasure. The bark of the tree scraping your back. The vibrancy of the world above as you throw your head back and cry out, your orgasm positively ripping through your body. Your entire existence is narrowed down to these sensations around you, until you are once again floating back down to earth. Mindless, boneless, your legs shaking, your hands tightening and massaging along Arthur’s scalp as he slides his fingers out of you. You lock eyes with him again, watching as the outlaw brings them up to his mouth and brazenly licks off the remnants of your orgasm left there.

Your lips part as Arthur raises himself back up to stand before you, not missing his opportunity to taste every inch of your skin on his way. He pauses at your breasts, long enough to wrap his lips around your sensitive nipples, swirling his tongue around the peaked buds one at a time. Your hand maintains its hold on his hair - you’ve always loved this man’s sandy brown tresses, especially when he keeps it longer like this. You feel less out of your mind now, more grounded in this moment with him and it occurs to you that being here with him now, being able to run your fingers along his skin and kiss his sensual lips, is something you thought you’d only ever dream of.

With him finally face to face with you again, you’re completely uncaring of the way his lips and chin are still shiny with your slick, and you kiss him deeply. The taste of yourself on his tongue reignites your arousal, and you run your hands down the tight muscles of his stomach to where his belt is slung low across his hips. With a few deft movements of your fingers, you remove it and undo his trousers, never letting your lips leave his. He helps you slide them down his strong legs, stepping out of his boots before removing his clothing entirely. He slides his arms around your back, thumbs trailing a featherlight path up and down the curve of your spine, making your skin erupt in goosebumps.

His eyes are locked onto yours, and you feel yourself getting lost in the stunning, rugged beauty of the man before you as he lifts you up, turns you both around, and lays you down beneath him on a pillowy bed of grass nearby. You can’t stop touching him, can’t stop marveling at the duality of strength and gentleness that come so naturally to him. The soft caress of his calloused hands along the smoothness of your skin has you closing your eyes, shivering slightly. His arms move up to cage your body, covering you completely with his own as you reach down, finding him hard and wanting. You feel him shudder against you as you stroke the impressive length of him, gathering the beads of arousal already dripping from the head of his cock onto your stomach, and using it to glide your grip up and down his velvety skin there. His eyes squeeze shut and his lips part as he drops his head next to yours, and you whisper sweet, encouraging words into his ear while you continue pumping him between your bodies.

After another moment, you can no longer stand the emptiness inside yourself, your need for him overwhelming. You widen your legs enough to guide the head of his cock to your entrance, still weeping with desire. He lifts his head just enough for his lips to meet yours, and his hips rock forward ever so slightly. You gasp at the feeling of him filling you, inch by slow, torturous inch, making sure you’re prepared for the entirety of him.

“Please, Arthur.” You whine, breathless, unable to help yourself from begging.

“Shh darlin’, you’re alright.” He croons, one hand smoothing back the hair from your face as his hips continue their steady motions. You glance down between your bodies, and the sight of him slowly disappearing into you makes your eyes widen slightly, and your breaths come a little heavier. Finally, he bottoms out with a low groan, thumb brushing over your lips before capturing them again with his own. His retreat is nearly just as slow, and you’re about to beg for more friction when you feel the thick tip of his cock drag along the sensitive spot just inside your entrance, making you moan. With his body on top of yours, and his cock inside of you, you can feel the effect your sensual noises have on him. His arms tighten around you, propping himself up more comfortably on his elbows, still caging you in. This time when he thrusts, it’s less slow, less controlled, and you run your hands down his back, gripping his firm ass, encouraging him further. With a growl and a nip to the curve of your neck, he begins moving his hips faster, snapping them into you with a tight precision, the friction and pressure deep within you causing you to cry out, your hands flying up to grip his shoulders.

The noises created from him fucking you in earnest are obscene enough to make you blush, and you would, were you not entirely focused on how incredible he’s making you feel. You can’t stop the noises coming from your mouth - ragged, breathy moans broken up by shouts of pleasure, sweet and dirty words pouring from you without thought. His arm snakes between you, and the rough pad of his thumb circles your clit with featherlight strokes, a delicious contrast to the hard snap of his hips that sends your pleasure once again spiraling to otherworldly heights.

His teeth are gritted and his eyes search yours, reading your expression and the tightening of your body beneath him for exactly what it is. “That’s a good girl,” the deep timbre of his voice is encouraging as his deft fingers and cock continue to drive you further into ecstasy. “Come for me, sweetheart.” His mouth latches onto the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his teeth sinking into your skin while he continues fucking you to your climax, and you cry out with unrestrained pleasure as you crest that peak, eyes squeezing shut and your entire body trembling with the intensity of your second orgasm.

He rides it out with you, his groans of pleasure rumbling in his chest as your body milks his cock, squeezing and fluttering around him even as he continues the same bruising pace, snapping his hips in and out of you. He pulls his arm out from between you, his hand now sliding up your body to palm your breast as his movements become sharper, more erratic. His breath is coming harder now, and he moans around a curse, pushing into you faster before withdrawing himself completely. You watch in dazed, blissful silence as he strokes himself twice, releasing thick ropes of his seed onto your belly. Your eyes meet, and you can’t help the satisfied smile that spreads on your face.

He smiles back at you, a soft thing, still full of that same sort of reverence as before, and he falls to your side, reaching over to grab his handkerchief to wipe up his spend.

You look into his eyes, now alight with some emotion you haven’t seen there before. The two of you lie together in the grass, neither of you quite able to speak yet. The smiles on your faces and the deep, steadying breaths you take communicate what you do not yet have words for. After a while, when the the sun starts to dip and the insects begin to sing their evening songs, you help each other dress, and walk back to camp side by side. A large, calloused hand finds yours, entwining your fingers together as you go, sneaking glances and exhaling soft laughs all the way back.

#rdr2 arthur #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur x female reader #smut #fluff and smut #protective arthur morgan #dom arthur morgan #hurt/comfort #injury recovery #gunshot wound #friends to lovers #arthur morgan fanfiction #ao3fic #cross posted on ao3 #plot what plot #one shot

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