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obi-nob-kenobi · 1 year

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Like a Lady (Morston one-shot)

Arthur says yes to the deluxe bath in Valentine, but the girl who works the baths at 2AM wasn't who Arthur was expecting. He wants the deluxe bath anyway.

art by @moopzies on tumblr/twitter

(note: This is a repost from my old tumblr that i can no longer access but since someone is hating on morston again how about a reminder of a cross-dressing John fic I wrote~)

ao3 link

or read below:

Racoons were the worst rodent in all the lands, Arthur decided as he rode into Valentine, head down in shame and back irritated beyond reach. If his horse could talk, she’d be giving some sympathy back with a hint of mockery, just as Arthur would to anyone of his gang brothers.

He was just out in the forest trying to grab some meat, unbeknownst that a family of Racoons already took his spot by the pond as their territory. Trying to shoo them away proved fruitless, and soon he had one on his back trying to eat his hat, and another inside his jacket looking for a pack of cigarettes.

Now he was out of smokes, no meat to show for, and tired as all hell. He was not camping out, not with those monsters waiting for him, so he made his way back into town and said he was going to treat himself to a nice hot bath.

The only places open were the saloon and the hotel which advertised their 24 hour bath service. As small and smelly as Valentine was, their hot water all but made up for it.

Hitched his horse and gave her a nice bundle of carrots for the night before making his way inside, slamming two quarters down and demanding a bath. His kindness only went to his horse, as he had no patience for the night clerk’s fret of tracking mud.

The damn racoons pushed him into a puddle. He won’t elaborate further.

Once the clerk confirmed the hot water was ready, Arthur dragged himself into the tub, throwing his dirty clothes aside and stepped in.

The hot water was a shock to his cold skin that quickly subsided into the pleasurable heat he was dreaming of. This is exactly what his body needed, a nice hot bath with the soaps and sponges, not the damn river water most of everyone at camp uses when they can’t afford the bath.

He only got to scrubbing his arms when he sank into the tub, just letting himself soak. If Charles was available, he’d ask to go hunting with him. Maybe he knew how to deal with feral racoons.

Or he could rob some O’Driscolls for a few gold pieces. That’s a faster way to make money and buy butchered food in town.

Arthur had his eyes closed, dreaming of the land he was supposed to be exploring in New Austin when a knock awoke him. “Would you like some assistance?”

He peaked one eye open at the door, still closed but a shadow indicating someone on the other side. She didn’t sound like the usual girl who offered the service, but then again Arthur had ridden in around two in the morning. He also rejected the service last time he was here as he just wanted a moment to himself. This time, though, a bit of company sounded nice, even if he had to pay her.

“Sure.” He said.

The door opened, and not a split second later shut abruptly. “Shit!”

That startled Arthur awake, now recognizing the voice. It was not a woman, but instead John fucking Marston, wearing a petticoat and what looked like a corset similar to Karen’s. The eye shadow and lipstick were just as visible as the wolf scars on his cheek, though Arthur was sure the blush was not make-up, but John’s natural color.

“What the hell are you doing here?” John whispered harshly.

Arthur eyed him up, and under the bubbles pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming…or drowning. “I should be asking you that, Marston.”

“None of you come here at this hour. Haven’t since we’ve been camping.”

Arthur opened his mouth to retort when a knock on the door startled them. John stepped back, rushing over to Arthur’s side at the tub.

“Everything okay in there?” Arthur assumed it was the clerk.

“Just fine.” Arthur answered for them. “Saw…a rat.”

“Oh! We apologize about that sir, and we’ll get that squared away.”

John relaxed once the clerk’s footsteps faded, but then he glared down at him. “Jesus christ why ain’t there another town…”

Suddenly, the last few weeks made sense to Arthur. John was in no shape to hunt or even go on scouting jobs, but he’d been antsy sitting around all day. He complained to Arthur, the night of Sean’s welcome back party, that he was feeling useless to the gang and saw no point in being saved if he was just sitting around all day. Arthur tried to reassure he wasn’t being a burden, considering how some others just lie all day, but John seemed determined to contribute in some way.

Arthur assumed at the time it was just drunk talk, and come morning John would be in his tent resting as he should be. But since then, John looked even more tired in the morning, groggy and sluggish like he had been up all night. Arthur even caught him contributing to the camp funds, but didn’t answer when Dutch asked where he got the money.

“So you’ve been…”

“Not a damn word Morgan.” John said. “If word gets back to camp,” John reached into the bath and pulled his ankle up, “I will skin you alive.”

Arthur snorted. “You wish, boy.”

“I mean it Arthur.” His voice was stern, a tone of a promise and not an empty threat. “I don’t need the rest of y’all treating me like you do the ladies. They get enough shit as it is and I’m not gonna sit by when that ridicule comes to me.”

Arthur raised his hands. “Geez, I won’t. Just surprised is all.”

John let go of his ankle, finally relaxing at the edge of the tub. “Good.”

Arthur laid back, watching John’s body language. As suspected this odd night shift wore him down. He wondered if John walked to Valentine or hitched a ride every time but it was still quite a trek from camp.

And the dress–it was common enough that he maybe took it from one of the gals in camp but even John doesn’t steal from women. His guess is he’s using what the hotel provided.

“So they let you take this job?” Arthur asked, curious.

John shrugged. “Got a few wanting…this kind of service.”

Arthur could see the appeal. Skirts and corsets were always pretty, bringing out the best features of a lady. John was a skinny man, handsome face and long hair that had ladies swooning over him when he was a teenager. And Arthur had eyes, he could see why men would overlook his gender and take him especially in this get up.

“Well, you’re in here.” Arthur said. “Might as well scrub my back.”

John whipped his head. “You fucking serious?”

Arthur reached over for the washcloth and handed it to him, “I’m paying you, aren’t I?”

“Fuck you Morgan,” John said, taking the cloth and pushing Arthur forward. “You lucky this ain’t a knife.”

The fabric against his back was rough and stung at the scratch marks. He’d prefer delicate hands instead, but John was not a delicate person.

“These are fresh, what the hell happened?”

Now it was Arthur’s turn to turn red from embarrassment. He’s still called lead-meat considering how he kills his animals with high caliber bullets, but no way in hell will anyone find out he was bested by forest rodents.

“Wolves.” He said stupidly.

John clicked his tongue. “Try again. No wolf marks are this shallow.”

“Just wash me.”

Arthur leaned forward on the tub’s edge, resting on his arms as he watched John grumble to himself. He was doing a very thorough job, making sure every bit of dirt was off him. No matter how much he made fun of him, John was always a hard worker, no doubt about that.

When John finished his back, he shoved Arthur to rest his back against the tub, and took one of his legs to wash him down.

“You are one hairy man.” John commented. “You have a shaving kit.”

“You’re on to talk. Don’t see you cutting this anytime soon.” He reached out, touching the ends of John’s hair. John, surprisingly, did not pull back.

“Hair on my head is fine. I think you’re growing a forest on your legs.”

He moved to the other side of the tub to scrub his other leg. He paused for a second, observing the fresh scratches on that side. It was the leg the racoons climbed onto to get to his damn cigarettes. “So…wanna explain these?”

Arthur shivered when John’s slender finger traced the red markings. He sunk into the tub, hoping the bubbles would hide his face. “Don’t go out to the Cumberland Forest, think the animals have rabies.”

John pulled his hand back. “...you pulling my leg?”

“We’ll see when I’m foaming at the mouth come morning.”

John pushed his leg back into the water. “Fine, I won’t tell you was ravaged by racoons.”

“And I won’t tell you moonlight as a lovely lady.”

“Just give me the damn money.”

Arthur pointed over to his trousers piled in the corner. John made a face as he picked it up, taking the money while checking out the mud stains. “You got spare clothes, right?”

“Yep, on the horse though.”

John shook his head, mumbling to himself as he left the room, leaving Arthur alone yet again with water now lukewarm.

Some part of him still wondered if this was an elaborate dream, though he questioned why he dreamt of John of all people bathing him when said man returned with his clothes from his horse’s saddle.

“I’ll get these washed up. They’ll be in your tent in the morning.”

Oh, well that was rather kind of him. John at the camp wouldn’t even get him a bowl of stew if Arthur asked politely.

“Boadicea is lookin’ dirty too. You’re gonna wanna brush her.”

His poor horse also got caught up in the raccoon fight when they were trying to escape, rushing through bushes and dust instead of their trail. “Yup, I’ll do that in the morning.”

“Oh Miss Joanna,” The desk clerk knocked on their door, but did not open it. “Mr. Waldorf is asking for you.”

John’s shoulders slumped, back pressing at the wall when he sighed out, “I will be right out.”

Arthur eyed the door. “Whose Mr. Waldorf?”

“My regular.” John said. “Uh, he comes in for a bath among…other things.”

The pink blush on his face said enough to know what John was expected to do tonight.

And something about that burned in Arthur’s chest.

The comments John had growing up, a lovely face with high cheekbones and long hair, had all the wrong men coming onto him. Arthur was always the first to step between anyone who wanted to touch him, and when John grew stronger, had no problem defending himself.

Still, as an adult, abiet it a stupid one, John could make his decisions himself. If he wanted to get sweet with men to help the camp, so be it.

Yet…

Arthur did not want another man touching him.

“How much?”

“Huh?”

“How much, for a night with you.”

If John’s face was pink before, it was as red as a tomato now.

“Y-ou–wha–why do you care?!”

“How. Much.”

“Arthur, just get out before I throw your nice clothes into the bath!”

When Marston was stunned, it was easier to swipe things from him, so Arthur just pulled his clothes from John’s hands and quickly put on his pants. He walked past him and towards the clerk, uncaring that his feet were tracking wet footprints.

“How much for Miss Joanna?”

The clerk pushed up his glasses, confused at the request. “Miss Joanna is already scheduled–”

If he recalled, Abigail said she used to charge thirty in the city. Karen and Tilly said they offer five to ten in small towns like these, but usually come back with more considering they also rob the men before they can even touch them.

So he pulled out ten, which was enough for the clerk to shut up. It worked, as the clerk looked at his profit and handed over a key. “Room 2b is available now.”

Arthur turned back to the bath hallway, smirking at John’s stunned opened mouth. He jingled the keys and walked up to his room, knowing in just a few minutes John would be bursting through the doors, angrily sputtering nonsense about his job and not needing protection as he always did whenever Arthur involved himself in his business.

Arthur laid on the freshly made bed, noting it was big enough for two, hands behind his head and resting on the pillow, whistling softly to himself as the door slammed open.

“Morgan you goddamn bastard!”

“Miss Joanna,” Arthur smiled. “A lady shouldn’t be shoutin’, you could wake everyone up.”

John closed the door behind him, throwing Arthur’s dirty clothes onto the floor. Guess he won’t be getting those washed up anytime soon.

“Why, why are you still foolin’ around with me?” John asked through seething teeth. “You got your bath and a good laugh. Just let me work.”

Arthur kept this gaze tight on John. “Do I look like I’m laughing?”

“You’re smiling, you’re halfway there.”

“But I’m not.” Arthur said simply. “Even the gals don’t sleep with men anymore for money. Why are you?”

John gestures around him. “Contribute to the group, that’s what Dutch said, didn't he? Well I ain’t doing much sitting and moping all day, having Micah tell me what deadweight I am, Javier bragging about the loot he got. Hell, you and Charles are keeping us fed with all the animals yous been huntin.” John took a moment to breathe, hands on his hips as he paced around the room. “I’m useless.”

The smile on Arthur’s face left. He sat up on the bed, moving his body so that his feet were on the floor. “John, you were in the mountains starving for two days, attacked by wolves. You couldn’t even walk.”

“I’m walkin’ now, aren’t I?”

“It’s okay to rest. You ain’t useless.”

John clicked his tongue. “Tell that to Micah.”

“Micah should have been left in the mountains to die.” Arthur said without hesitation. “Come here.”

John crossed his arms over his chest. “You don’t gotta hug me. I ain’t twelve anymore.”

“Clearly.” Arthur said, patting his lap.

At least John’s face was back to red from embarrassment rather than anger. After a second of contemplating he did, walking over so that he was standing between Arthur’s legs.

Arthur reached out to touch his hand. He rubbed soft circles around his knuckles before taking it to his lips, and kissed him.

“Arthur…stop playin– Art!”

In a swift move, Arthur brought John down so that he was seated in his lap, skirt hanging over and covering both their legs. John’s waist was so small in the corset that was beautifully embroidered with flowers.

“Lemme take care of you Johnny.” Arthur soothed, letting his other hand rundown John’s back. The texture of the lace ribbon and metal boning danced on his fingertips. The knot at the bottom was tight enough to keep the piece altogether, but with the perfect tug, he could release John from his confines.

“”M not a kid.” John said suddenly. “Treat me like a man.”

“No.” Arthur said. He took the end of the ribbon and pulled the knot loose. But he didn’t let it slip off his body. Instead Arthur flipped them over, John with his back on the bed while Arthur kneeled between his legs. He hiked up the skirt to John’s waist, hands scrambling to pull down the bloomers and toss them aside.

“Tonight, I’m treatin’ you like a lady.”

He spread John’s legs apart, revealing his half-hard erection underneath all the pretty soft fabric. He began by kissing his inner thighs, noticing that he smelled almost floral. He sunk his teeth into the skin, using his tongue to lick the light wound right after and asked, “Did you clean yourself?”

Arthur couldn’t see John’s face, imagining he must be so flustered. With a shaky breath John replied, “Yeah, we’re all supposed–”

Arthur darted his tongue into his hole, leaving the younger man choking on his own words. Not only did John clean, but he prepared himself in advance, already stretched and lubricated. He supposed John couldn’t get wet as naturally as a woman, but that was okay, that gave Arthur more time to enjoy his body.

“A-Arthur! You don’t hafta–ah..”

John’s hand found Arthur’s hair, pulling at his strands to try and pull him off, but Arthur wouldn’t allow it. He doubted John’s customers ever treated him right, only using him for their pleasure and leaving him nothing else. It was time for John to feel the pleasure of a tongue inside him, fingering for his own lust. A cock that would draw out real screams.

He heard the younger sigh, keeping Arthur’s head in place and squeezed his thighs together. Arthur smiled to himself. John was finally allowing himself to actually feel good, and he was not holding back his sounds.

Unless they were yelling, the walls in this hotel were actually thick enough to mask conversations. The breathy moans and pants from John were just for Arthur to hear, and he took pride knowing he’s able to get these sounds out of him.

Arthur threw one of John’s legs over his shoulder to get a deeper angle. It caused another low whine, John withering in the bed to try and ride Arthur’s face. His cock was leaking now with some of his seed staining the inside of the dress. Arthur took his cock in hand, squeezing the base to stop him from coming so soon.

His own pants tightened at John’s voice, but Arthur ignored it so he could stretch his partner out.

He pulled his tongue out to kiss his thighs and legs, with one finger gently circling John’s puckered hole. “I’m putting one in.”

“Dammit Arthur, just–hng,”

“Impatient.”

John mouthed something that sounded like a “Fuck you”, but his words jumbled into a moan. Of all ways to finally shut John Marston up, it’d be something in his ass.

He started scissoring him with two, knowing John could take it with how slick he already was, and the younger man continued to sing pretty.

With a third to get him out thoroughly, John dug his heels into Arthur’s shoulders. “Arthur– please .”

Arthur kissed the head of his cock. “Never heard you beg like that.”

“ Arthur .”

If they were outside, with no walls or other people to consider, he’d have John begging until the birds in the sky could hear him. For now, John was all for him, in this room, in his lovely dress.

John scooted up the bed, resting between the two pillows. Arthur shoved down his pants, revealing his very hard erection. John’s eyes went down, and he swallowed nervously.

“This is for you, Johnny.” Arthur said, taking his cock and stroking himself. He leaned down, hips between John’s legs and hand tangling in John’s hair. “You made me hard. See what you’ve done?”

“J-just a bath…” John shied away from Arthur’s eyes, but in doing so he leaned into his touch.

“No, more than the bath. You’re beautiful John.”

Kissing his forehead, Arthur aligned himself with John’s opening and slowly sunk himself in. John gasped at the new stretch, and he grabbed Arthur by his shoulders, holding on as the man buried himself deep in him.

Between John’s teary eyes, the corset that just hung off his body, and the skirt now hiked up to his hips, he was a gorgeous sight, and for Arthur’s eyes only. If John would allow him, he’d photograph him with the camera in his bag. Maybe he’ll draw him out from memory, a reminder of this intimate and secret moment.

“Arthur,” John whispered. “Are you going to–”

“Thought I’d be gentle with you, miss.”

He could stay buried inside John forever. He was so warm , and fit him perfectly.

John rolled his eyes, but finally turned to Arthur to give him a proper kiss on the lips. “Fuck me, cowboy.”

Who was Arthur to deny a request like that?

He smashed their lips together, moving his hips in quick succession and thrusted in and out of his body just like he asked. The bed squeaked under them, headboard hitting the wall and Arthur was so glad this was the room at the end of the hall.

John’s moans were swallowed by Arthur, but what he would give to hear him out loud. John wrapped his legs around Arthur, trying to keep him in place as Arthur built his own pleasure with his body.

John’s neglected cock bounced between them. With his thumb, he rubbed at the tip, smearing his precum all over. That alone was enough to make John throw his head back, and covering his mouth, came between their bodies.

He tightened up after that, and Arthur hid his face in his shoulder. “John, fuck , I’m close. Where–”

“Inside.” John said, meeting Arthur’s movements. “Come inside me, Arthur.”

It didn’t take long for Arthur to follow, with one last hard thrust he buried himself deep, and filled John.

They came down from their high through lazy and breathless kisses. Arthur started on his lips, and when John grew tired, slumping into the bed, Arthur kissed his forehead, his cheek with his scars, and to his collarbone, wishing he could leave a mark if not for the fact John wore open necked shirts.

The night air of Valentine cooled their sweat and fluids, something that John quickly grew uncomfortable as his own spend was on his skirt and thighs. Arthur had not pulled out, but he could feel him leaking .

“Off,” John said after a moment. “Ugh, I think I need a bath.”

“Need some assistance?” Arthur asked shamelessly, and John lightly hit his arm.

“Ass. Just…wash cloth? There should be one by the drawer.

And that there was, as well as a set of clean sheets. For a small town hotel, they were ready for this type of clean up.

He wiped John’s body thoroughly, kissing every part of his skin until he was cleaned of the sweat and fluids. His lower half, however, Arthur watched in full arousal as his seed leaked out of him, dripping down to his thighs. Without warning he hitched John’s leg over his shoulder again, licking the rest of him clean.

John whimpered, holding in his moans as Arthur’s mouth got closer to his hole. He wasn’t hard yet so fast, but his cute cock was trying. It made Arthur smile.

When he was done teasing John, Arthur finally stood to take a nice look at his debauched and thoroughly fucked body. John was still breathing hard, face flushed and long legs spread out, ready for him again if Arthur pleased.

John looked absolutely stunning.

He joined him back on the bed, pulling John to his chest to kiss his forehead. The fireplace crackled as the logs broke under the heat, and the Valentine night noises filled the otherwise silent room, that was until a man two doors down groaned in pain.

Arthur shot up immediately, looking for his pistol when John tapped his chest to have him rest. “Ignore him, some poor fella with a stomach problem.”

“Oh.”

Under his chin, John’s hair smelled floral. He always called him a pile of grease because he just looked so oily, but running his hands through it, Arthur found his hair was very soft.

“So, how the hell is this going to work?” John asked after a while.

“What d’ya mean?”

“You just paid me and that money’s going back to the gang. Kinda weird when you can just put it in the box yourself.”

Arthur pulled John closer. “That money is yours with however you want it. I can contribute another way.”

John shrugged. “I don’t know, doesn’t feel right to take your money.”

“But it was okay to take my hat, my clothes, my saddle? ”

“I was fifteen!”

Arthur laughed. “John, I mean it. Do what you want with the money. Just stop doing this for other men.”

He could feel John tense. “How am I supposed to contribute–”

“Start by doing chores around the camp. Clean the horses, I don’t know. Nothing that would hurt you.” Arthur said. “I know you wanna be out here but…”

Arthur rolled them over, John now on his back so Arthur could look at him. As gently as he could, Arthur cupped John’s scarred cheek. “Take it easy. I’m not losing you again because you went off and got attacked.”

“They were just wolves.” John reminded him, leaning into his touch. “Better than O'Driscolls.”

They knew what the O’Driscolls were capable of. Arthur didn’t like that thought either.

Arthur laid next to John.“ Just…be there when I return to camp.”

The room grew quiet, just the sounds of the fireplace and the crickets from the outside. Then, in a small but earnest voice, John said. “Okay.” As he snuggled closer to Arthur.

Satisfied, Arthur stroked through John’s hair until he fell asleep, and soon enough Arthur did the same, holding the man like he was the most precious thing on earth. Because John Marston really was.

Arthur awoke to the roosters. Groaning, he covered his ears with a pillow and turned over, expecting to meet with another body only to find himself alone. He sighed, remembering that John probably snuck out earlier to make it back to camp, but it still disappointed him no less to wake up alone.

The room looked as if only one occupant stayed. The dirty clothes and wash cloth were gone. On top of his clean clothes, folded, was a note, definitely left by John based on his chicken scratch handwriting.

Saw some O’Driscolls hanging outside the hotel. Be careful on your way back. They was wearing some shiny new belts.

Arthur smiled, tucking the note away in his journal as he got ready for the day.

Picking off the O’Driscolls was easy, leading them far enough from town to take them out and steal any valuables on them. His luck turned around right after when a herd of deer trotted by, and Arthur managed to kill one cleanly and take the carcass back to the camp.

It was noon by the time he returned, valuables for the camp box and meat for Pearson’s stew.

Heading over to the girl’s wagon to pick up the coffee sacks for Pearson, Arthur saw John with a bucket between his legs, scrubbing away at some clothes. Despite working, he looked well rested, his first night with proper sleep.

The girls were folding the dry clothes and sewing ripped fabric. When Arthur said hello, the girls welcomed him back, while John grumbled.

“Get all them stains out, Marston.” Arthur teased.

“Fuck off.”

There were no heat in his words, judging by the way Tilly and Mary-Beth giggled.

“At least one of yous is helping us.” Karen said aloud, eyes glaring daggers at Sean sleeping by a rock.

“Don’t strain yourself too much ladies, Marston.” Arthur said, taking the sack over his shoulder.

“Arthur.” John called out, eyes still on the washboard. “I left your clothes hanging by your tent.”

Arthur took a quick glance over at his side of camp, seeing his clothes from the night before freshly washed and hanging to dry on a clothesline, just as John said. When he looked back, he noticed a faint blush on his face.

“Thanks. Can you come by later? My blanket ripped, I need help sewing it.”

The blush on his face deepened, but John just replied. “Sure.”

“John! I didn’t know you can sew.” Mary-Beth said, surprised.

“Me neither…” Was what John mumbled.

“Hey Marston, can you wash my long johns?”

“Do it yourself Williamson!”

“You do Arthur’s but not mine?!”

Arthur laughed, finally separating himself from them to give Pearson his sack. The rest of their afternoon would be filled with finishing chores, then sitting around the campfire listening to Javier sing or Uncle’s dubious escapades.

But in the night, John would be back in his tent, the man in his arms. Arthur just got a taste in Valentine, and he wasn’t going to stop just because John wasn’t in a skirt.

He wondered if he paid Karen or Mary-Beth, if they’d let Arthur keep one of their skirts.

#morston #john marston #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #morston rdr2 #hazel writes #hazel writes morston #morston fanfic #morston fanart

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