Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hitching his horse, Arthur headed tiredly into camp.

“Arthur,” Sean called out from around the campfire, beckoning him over.

“Just getting myself a beer,” he called back, passing the group and heading for Pearson’s wagon as Uncle picked up his story. The beer would be warm but he needed an easy drink, something comforting, after the day he’d had. There was a calm but happy hum in the air that evening, most already settled down for the night apart from those listening to Uncle. Just as Arthur made to round the end of the wagon, a familiar figure caught his eye, looking out over the lake. He paused for a moment before grabbing a beer and making his way over. Sean called out again behind him, but he waved him off.

“Sod you then, you reticent turd.”

Usually, Arthur would have spoken up, but something about the silhouette ahead of him told him that there were more important matters to see to. As he walked on, he heard John take up the mantle, ribbing Sean’s eclectic vocabulary.

“Dutch,” Arthur greeted, standing beside him and gazing out across the water.

“There’s my boy,” Dutch smiled, reaching out and giving Arthur’s far shoulder a squeeze. He kept his arm there, his full attention on Arthur. “How are you, Arthur?”

“Seen better days, truth be told.”

“Haven’t we all, but when the sun rises tomorrow, it does so with the promise of another chance at a new day.”

Arthur shook his head, chuckling before taking another swig. “You’ve always got some poetry for every situation, haven’t you, Dutch.”

Dutch pulled his arm away, walking towards the moonlit lake before them with his arms spread wide. Arthur was grateful he couldn’t see the shiver at the loss of contact. “Why are we here if not to translate and record the beauty of the world around us? Some men have a brush, and paint it onto great canvases. Me, I’m a simple man, Arthur.” He turned back to face him, faint light from a lantern at the edge of a camp illuminating his features. “All I have are my words.”

“And you’ve got out of some mighty fine messes with them alone, over the years.”

“Ain’t that right,” Dutch chuckled fondly, turning back to the lake.

Arthur joined him at the water’s edge and they stood for a while, comfortable in their silence together. Things were always comfortable with Dutch — he had this way of putting folks at ease, sure — but what they had was different. At least, he liked to think so. Arthur didn’t always go in for all Dutch’s bravado and promises and grand ideas, but he knew it had its place. He’d seen the good it could do, the situations it could get them out of. But behind all that, Arthur liked to think he knew Dutch, after so long riding together and all the rest. He trusted him with most things, more than he’d trust any other, and he just felt comfortable in the man’s presence.

“So, will you be looking to let off some steam tonight, son?”

Unsure what he meant by that, Arthur turned to look at him. Dutch continued to stare out over the water, giving nothing away.

“I’m not all that wound up, nothing a few beers and a good night’s sleep won’t fix, I reckon.” Arthur tipped back his head to finish his beer. When he was done, it was obvious Dutch had been staring. Dutch’s eyes moved up from his throat to meet his gaze, holding it for a long moment.

“Pity,” muttered Dutch, so softly that Arthur wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard it, as he slowly turned back to camp. “Well, I’m heading in.” There was enough reluctance in his tone for Arthur to take a chance on his gut feeling.

“You never stick around in the evenings no more. Nevermind letting off steam, looks like you’re running out of it, old man,” he teased.

“Is that so?” Dutch said, stepping up and taking the bait. “I can show you just how much steam this old man’s still got in him, if that’s what you want, boy.”

The following pause was part of the game they played. Both of them knew what his answer would be. He never could say no to Dutch.

“I reckon you’ve tempted me.”

Dutch smiled and patted his cheek softly before turning away, calling back over his shoulder, “I’ll go on ahead.”

“Right,” Arthur acknowledged, waiting a moment before walking to the back of his own wagon. He quietly stowed his hat and gun belt and discarded the empty beer bottle. He thought about grabbing them each another beer, but they were singing over at the fire and Arthur didn’t want to have to make excuses. Charles, for one, was too observant for his own good. He had a bottle of whiskey in his satchel, so decided that would do, if needed.

When he turned his attention to Dutch’s tent it was already closed up, the light from the lantern inside visible but not enough to cast the shadows of its occupants onto the walls. It should ensure they weren’t disturbed.

Arthur let himself in the back, Dutch not even acknowledging him as he hung his gun belt up with his hat and jacket.

“So,” Arthur asked, voice low, pulse already quickening at the thought of what was to come. “How do you want to do this tonight?”

Dutch turned to face him and, holding eye contact the whole time, deftly undid his cuffs and rolled his sleeves up past the elbow.

“Right, then,” Arthur acknowledged, swiftly lifting off his satchel and laying it onto a crate as he widened his stance.

“Hold up,” Dutch interrupted, one hand raised as he approached. “Before that, I would like to indulge for a moment.” He stopped close, reaching out to tuck a strand of Arthur’s hair behind his ear. “If you’ll permit me.”

“When have you ever known me to not do exactly what you want, hm?” Arthur teased playfully.

“Almost daily,” Dutch retaliated with a grin. “You get things done, but you do it the Arthur Morgan way.”

“I suppose that’s not entirely untrue.”

Dutch clapped his hand reassuringly on Arthur’s shoulder. “But you always come through for me, son.”

“Of course,” Arthur muttered before Dutch closed the gap, bringing their lips together. Arthur ran his tongue boldly across dry lips which opened for him. Dutch tasted of whiskey and smoke. Arthur deepened the kiss and Dutch stepped forward, one thigh pressing against Arthur’s burgeoning erection. Arthur gently pulled away.

“So, are we doing this?” Kissing was nice and all, but Arthur didn’t do nice. He was a to-the-point kind of guy. He liked to get his hands dirty; occasionally his knees too, but only for Dutch.

“Best start low, I reckon. It’s fairly late.”

“Alright,” Arthur agreed, joining Dutch in getting onto his knees.

They usually preferred to start standing — each attempting to wrestle the other to the ground and make him submit — but Dutch was right, folks were sleeping and starting low would cause less of a disturbance.

Dutch squared up, clapping his right hand firmly onto Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur mirrored him, then each of them brought up their left hand to grab the outside of the other’s right shoulder. Locked in, they adjusted their knees and gave each other a nod.

“May I?” Dutch asked conversationally.

“Why, please do, Sir” Arthur mocked genially. Many would have missed the slight hitch in Dutch’s breathing at the title, but not Arthur. Being able to spot those little tells were what allowed him to give Dutch what he wanted. Arthur knew how to get his blood pumping.

“One… Two… Three!”

On three it began; grappling to keep their balance, to get to their feet, while keeping the other down. Dutch’s teeth were barred as they each sought to overpower the other. Neither of them minded either outcome, mostly they enjoyed the process. This wasn’t a challenging of Dutch’s authority. It was about the honor of it. There was nothing shameful about getting on your knees before a man who had earned it.

Truthfully though, Arthur was only along for the ride. When the world started feeling heavy on his shoulders, he could ride out for a while, maybe do a spot of hunting or sketching, and come back home feeling lighter. Dutch spent plenty of time reading and taking in nature, but sometimes he’d find himself under a burden that those little pleasures just couldn’t lift. He needed something more, something visceral. Sometimes, he needed a moment he could control. Other times, he needed to have all responsibility stripped away, just for a little while. Whichever it was, Arthur would give it to him. He just had to work out which it was first.

Arthur gained an advantage as Dutch briefly lost his balance. He took it and raised a knee, planting his foot on the rug and bearing down on Dutch. Dutch’s hands clung desperately to Arthur’s biceps and he lunged forward, throwing his knee hard into Arthur’s shin and knocking him back down. Pressing forward, he raised a knee himself, grinning at the partial victory. Arthur pushed back, enough to make Dutch think he really was trying, but let Dutch stumble to his feet.

With Dutch’s win clear, they released each other and straightened themselves out while they caught their breath.

“Still plenty of steam in this old man, eh son?” Dutch said, dusting off his pants.

“Yes, Sir,” Arthur conceded, moving forward a little so that he was kneeling on the rug rather than the hard wooden slats.

“Well, you know what that means, boy,” Dutch said smugly, flipping open the buttons on his pants and pulling out his hard cock.

“I do, Sir,” Arthur said, cheekily adding, “May I?” as he gestured at his own bulge.

“Please do,” Dutch smiled, running his fingers softly across Arthur’s stubbled jaw.

Arthur hurriedly slipped his suspenders from his shoulders, letting them hang loosely at his sides, and undid his pants. He took himself in hand but that was all, for now. Dutch’s hand moved from his jaw round to the back of his neck. His fingers clenched in Arthur’s hair, getting a good grip with which to steer him by. Arthur looked up at him and opened his mouth, letting Dutch guide his cock between eager lips.

Arthur wasn’t particularly fond of the task itself, but he was always more than happy to do it for Dutch. He liked to know he could make the man feel good, liked to hear him groaning and gasping and know that he was responsible for that.

Having another man’s cock in your mouth came with a degree of power and responsibility overlooked by many. You had to really trust someone to let them have their teeth around something so important. These days, the only person Arthur trusted that much was Dutch, and Dutch didn’t put out often. It hadn’t gone so well for Arthur the last time he’d had let someone else suck him off. He hadn’t trusted John with it since, but he told himself it didn't matter much. He had plenty of other ways to keep him in line. Arthur flicked his tongue against the underside of Dutch’s cock and heard him moan softly.

“That’s it, boy,” Dutch praised quietly, “Don’t forget to see to yourself, now.”

Arthur groaned as he began to move his hand up and down his own cock, letting Dutch fuck his mouth with shallow thrusts. After a while, Dutch’s fingers tightened in his hair, pulling Arthur further onto his cock. He took the hint, shifting his knees and bracing his free hand against Dutch’s hip as he took control. He took him in all the way, gradually increasing the leisurely speed Dutch had set.

“Shit, I forget how good you are at this,” Dutch mumbled reverently, sweeping Arthur’s hair from his face where damp strands had begun to cling to his forehead. Arthur’s hand on his own cock sped up to match the pace of his mouth.

“Arthur…” Dutch warned, allowing him to back off slightly. Lips wrapped tightly around the head of Dutch’s cock, he brought up his free hand to work the shaft until Dutch spilled into his mouth with a long, restrained groan.

Spent and satiated, Dutch stumbled to the side and fell down heavily on his cot with a chuckle. Arthur huffed fondly before wiping his mouth against his sleeve. He spat in his hand and gripped his cock firmly, running his thumb across the head with each pass.

“Arthur, come here,” Dutch beckoned, pushing himself up to sit on the edge of the cot. Arthur ignored him, trying to focus on the sounds that had been falling from the man’s mouth just moments ago — sounds that Arthur had drawn out of him.

“I said, stop that,” Dutch said, hushed but forcefully this time as he knocked Arthur on the arm. “Come here.”

“What?” Arthur replied insolently, still not moving and barely slowing down.

“I don’t want you making a mess on my rug, boy,” Dutch explained impatiently, “Now come here.”

“Oh, I’ll come here, alright…” Arthur murmured, lurching to his feet and turning to stand before Dutch.

“If you’re going to get smart with me, Arthur, you can go see to yourself in the privacy of your own quarters.” Dutch’s actions belied his words as he grabbed Arthur’s hips and pulled him closer.

“Come on now, Dutch. Neither of us wants that.”

Dutch wrapped a hand around Arthur’s cock and looked up at him.

“What is it you do want, hm?”

“You know what I want,” Arthur said, trying his best to remain patient. He knew Dutch wasn’t beyond turning him away.

“Say it.”

Arthur softly shook his head and sighed. He didn’t understand why Dutch continued to play these games with him, but he must get something out of it to persist with such an unwilling participant. Arthur just wanted to come. “I want you to suck my cock, Dutch.”

“You’ll have to do better than that, boy,” Dutch smirked, slowly stroking to the tip of Arthur’s cock and spreading the pre-come over the head with his thumb.

“Please,” Arthur said simply, in a tone that he hoped communicated that he wasn’t willing to compromise any more than that.

“I suppose that will do, this time...”

From the second the wet heat of Dutch’s mouth engulfed his cock, Arthur was close. He fought to keep his hips still, letting Dutch set the pace he was comfortable with. A grunted ‘yes’ was all the warning Arthur managed to get out, fists clenching at his sides and head thrown back as he came.

Arthur quickly tucked himself away and righted his clothing, turning to grab his satchel with the whiskey in.

“Thank you, Arthur,” Dutch said softly from behind him.

“It was quite literally my pleasure,” Arthur replied, back still to Dutch. No need to make things awkward.

“And it would have been, either way. So… Thank you.”

Arthur did face him then with a soft sigh, seeing Dutch getting ready to turn in. He closed and shouldered his satchel, not wanting to outstay his welcome. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re getting at, Dutch.”

Dutch stepped towards him. “I know you let me win.”

“Well, maybe I wanted you to win,” Arthur tried to deflect unconvincingly.

“Maybe, or perhaps you knew what I needed. I know you, Arthur Morgan.” Another step closer. “And you know me. Better than anyone.”

“I don’t know about that. I wasn’t expecting you to do… that tonight.” Arthur gestured vaguely at the cot to illustrate his ineloquent point.

Dutch smiled, glancing away briefly before coming nose-to-nose with him. “Well, when I wake up in the morning unsure of whether this was a dream or reality, I’ll have the taste of you lingering in my mouth.”

“You and your goddamn poetry,” Arthur murmured against his lips before kissing him hard. Dutch’s lips opened immediately, Arthur tasting himself on Dutch’s tongue.

Arthur pulled away forcefully, knowing that if he didn’t go now, he’d want to stay and that simply wasn’t an option.

“Goodnight, Arthur.” Dutch turned back to his cot. Arthur took the hint and moved to the door. He went to the front, knowing he’d be more likely to be heard tripping over pegs around the back trying to get to his tent in the dark.

“Night, Dutch,” he called softly over his shoulder, stepping into the night.

He made sure the tent was closed behind him before turning to find John, standing at the door to his own tent. The light was low, but he could tell from John’s posture that he wasn’t happy with the situation. Arthur only smirked at him before heading for bed.

When he fell asleep, it was with a soft smile on his lips, looking forward to dealing with John in the morning.

Chapter Text

The sun still lingered behind the trees when Arthur awoke the next morning. There was a light mist in the air and the camp was mostly quiet and still. As he stirred himself, Arthur could see Lenny and Javier heading to swap with those on watch through the latter part of the night. When he remembered that he’d have to deal with John today, he was almost tempted to try and go back to sleep.

Things with John were complicated. Arthur didn’t like complicated, so he tried not to think too much about it. He knew John would be in a mood, but he was best left to stew for a while. Arthur would wait, he would work John up and then they would work it out. Just like they always did.

“Morning,” Arthur said broadly as he walked through the camp.

“Morning, Arthur,” Tilly replied, standing around the coffee pot with Karen, who gave Arthur a nod.

“Alright,” Sean greeted, from his seat around the fire.

“Arthur,” Charles added beside him.

John sat across from them, leaning forward with his forearms rested across his knees and staring into the fire. There was a moment of expectant silence.

“Morning, Marston,” Arthur said pointedly, as he poured himself a coffee.

John didn’t reply, but he did hunch over a little further. The silence drew on as Arthur put down the coffee pot and walked over to the campfire. As he went to take a seat, John silently got up and left. Arthur was aware of Charles looking at him, but he simply sipped his coffee.

“Who pissed in his whiskey?” Sean commented, loud enough for John’s retreating form to hear. Arthur couldn’t help a small chuckle.

“Arthur did,” Charles answered, and Arthur shot him a look of warning. Sean opened his mouth as if ready to question it, but Charles tactfully changed the subject, steering the attention away from John and Arthur.

Charles hadn’t actually been told anything about John and Arthur’s history, but he’d worked out enough. He knew that things had been complicated before John had left and they’d only become more so when he returned, but he didn’t know just how complicated things were. It had been about a year since John returned to the gang, when Arthur had hoped to leave the past in the past. They would have worked through the tension in other ways, moved on as two members of the same family, if not quite as brothers. However, Dutch had felt differently. He insisted his boys got along.

It was Dutch who had pushed them back together. Not that they were together, exactly, but they were fucking again and it was Dutch’s doing. It continued to bother Arthur that John had returned into the gang so easily, but more so that both Dutch and Abigail had so eagerly welcomed him back and into their beds. It felt like a small betrayal to the gang, to not acknowledge the impact of John’s abandonment on the group, especially on his young son.

That residual anger had found an outlet when Arthur had finally given in to Dutch pushing them back into a physical relationship. Arthur wasn’t proud to admit it, but he knew it to be true. He hadn’t expected John to enjoy the rough treatment so much. Arthur had never seen a man come without his cock being touched before and the thrill it gave him, to be responsible for that, had been surprising and intoxicating. It had only escalated from there, with John pushing him each time to let go a little more.

Arthur wasn’t a good man, and he wasn’t one to pretend otherwise. However, he believed there were certain lines that a man shouldn’t cross without good reason. Men who crossed those lines for their own pleasure were, in Arthur’s opinion, the worst kinds of people. To call them animals would be generous. So when John had said things like ‘no’ and ‘stop’, Arthur had stopped.

Arthur knew what John wanted from him now, even if he didn’t understand why he wanted it. It appeared to clear John’s head, and Arthur enjoyed himself well enough. He wasn’t one to go looking for sex, content to allow himself other pleasures, but he didn’t often turn it down when the opportunity arose. It used to just be John — not out of any sense of loyalty, but simply because John was enough — but he’d been gone for a year, and in that time Arthur had fucked others, some of whom still offered themselves to him on occasion. None of them were John, though. Even with such a drastic shift in how things were between them, there was just something about him that got under his skin like no one else.

~*~*~*~*~

“Ride out with me,” he said, walking by John without stopping. It wasn’t a request. John had stewed long enough, and Arthur had been half-hard for most of the morning, on and off. He’d had enough of waiting.

“Why?” John called after him, not yet moving.

“Got some things need straightening out,” Arthur answered over his shoulder, whistling for his horse.

As Arthur mounted his horse, he saw John reluctantly making his way over. When he was finally in the saddle, Arthur led the way east out of the camp.

“Where we heading?” John called from behind as he followed Arthur through the forest towards the main path.

“That depends,” Arthur answered, eyes ahead as the path widened and John settled his horse into a trot beside him, “You gonna talk?”

“What’s there to talk about?”

Arthur sighed, shaking his head lightly. “Fine. Let’s head off through here.”

Arthur led the way to a clearing among the trees. It didn’t look as though anyone had been through here recently and it was far away enough from the road that they should have some privacy, even in the day.

Arthur dismounted and hitched his horse a little off from the clearing. He didn’t want her getting spooked when things got physical, or if John got loud. John hitched his horse beside her and followed Arthur to a large boulder just inside the clearing.

“What we straightening out, then?” Arthur asked, taking off his gun belt and laying it down carefully on the boulder beside his hat.

“You tell me. You dragged me out here.” John removed his hat and bandolier, laying them beside Arthur’s belongings.

“You’re the one with the problem,” Arthur countered, shoving a small bundle of rope and some gun oil into his pockets and laying down his satchel. “Been throwing me looks all morning and you clearly weren’t too happy with whatever you think happened last night.”

“Don’t treat me like a fool, Arthur. It’s plain what happened last night. If I have to explain myself then clearly you’re not the friend I took you for.” John removed his jacket and laid it over his gun belt and bandolier.

“I ain’t your friend, son—”

“And I ain’t your son.” John snapped, squaring up to him. “I’m a man, Arthur. It’s about time you started treating me like one.”

“It’s about time you accept the order of things. We’re family, John.” Arthur stepped away, careful not to fully turn his back on him but needing to lure him into the clearing, onto softer ground.

“Seems like it’s you who doesn’t know the order of things.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You had your chance. He’s mine.”

Arthur laughed. “Oh John, Dutch won’t even wed a woman, you really think he’d ever be faithful to a man? You can’t be blind to how many others show Dutch their gratitude.”

“He’s a man, course he won’t turn it down when it’s offered, but it’s me he comes looking for, It’s me he wants. Not you anymore.”

“I can’t give him what you do, not no more, but sometimes what you give ain’t all he needs.”

“What do you know about what he needs? You’re never here, riding out for days at a time.”

Arthur stepped forward slowly, squaring up to John and making the most of his slight height advantage. “You’re gonna stand there and give me a sermon about leaving for days?”

“Well whose fault was it I left, huh?” John shouted, throwing his shoulder into Arthur’s chest and forcing him backwards a few steps. “Who was I running from Arthur?” He made to shove Arthur with both hands but Arthur saw it coming and rolled back his shoulder. John’s hands glanced off him and the force he’d tried to use against Arthur sent him falling forward off-balance. Arthur quickly grabbed John to steady him and easily twisted one arm behind his back. John froze, hissing through the discomfort.

“Don’t try and pin it all on me, John. It was more complicated than that, and you know it,” Arthur hissed in his ear.

“Bull-crap.”

A light kick in the back of the legs sent John down onto his knees. It was time to play the asshole that John wanted him to be. In the beginning Arthur had expected the role to come easily to him, given his nature, but their history had definitely complicated things. They both knew from experience that dragging up the past never ended well. Arthur knew he had to steer them into safer waters.

“You’re making it too easy for me, kid. Careful. I might start thinking you want this.”

As expected, John started to put up a fight. He managed to break out of Arthur’s sweaty grip and attempted to get to his feet, but Arthur was ready for him. He grabbed for the back of John’s shirt and pulled him down once more. Arthur hadn’t anticipated John losing his balance, however, and the pair tumbled backwards, rolling around as they both grappled to gain the upper hand. Something hard, probably an elbow, caught Arthur around the jaw, but he shook it off, eventually getting John on his stomach beneath him.

John continued to buck and curse relentlessly, despite already seeming quite out of breath. Arthur leant forward to pin John with his full weight so that he could unbundle the rope.

“Get off me goddammit!”

“I don’t think so,” Arthur replied absently, setting about wrestling John’s arms in position to tie them behind his back. He could feel John’s legs flailing uselessly behind him, attempting to kick him in the back, but he was sitting a little too high on John’s ass for him to reach.

With John’s wrists tied to his forearms, Arthur climbed off him. John rolled over, but Arthur turned him back onto his front easily enough and worked on his ankles. He left a short length of rope between them, so that John couldn’t easily kick at him but could still be manoeuvred to an extent.

“There we are,” he said, stepping back to admire his handiwork, “All ready to be a good little bitch for me, ain’t you, Marston?”

“You’re a sick bastard,” John spat, settling a little now that he’d thoroughly tested Arthur’s knots.

“Just how you like me,” Arthur muttered in reply, sitting across John’s ass again and getting to work unbuttoning his suspenders.

He didn’t understand John. He used to — or at least he thought he did — but since he came back, nothing made sense the same way it used to. Arthur used to sneak into John’s tent at night and John would ask him for it. Not with words, exactly. John never was one for many words. He’d ask with his hands and his lips and his hips. Now, he only wanted to play things differently and that was why Arthur had insisted that he choose a word.

Suspenders unbuttoned, he dragged John by the shoulders until he was up on his knees again. It meant that Arthur could reach around to undo John’s fly and tug his pants down his thighs. One hand around John’s chest to hold him in place, the other in John’s hair, Arthur pulled his head back sharply.

“What’s the word?” he whispered in his ear, just like every time.

“Fuck you.”

Arthur sighed. “John, if you want to do this, I need to know you know the word.”

“I don’t need the damn word.”

“And why’s that?”

“I ain’t weak.”

Arthur stepped around to crouch in front of him, never completely taking his hands off of John. He held him tightly by the shoulders, trying to look him in the eye but John consistently evaded his gaze.

“It’s not about being weak or strong, John. If you want to play the victim then I’m fine with that but I can’t really be that guy. I need to know you’re playing. I need to know that if you really don’t want this, you’ll tell me. If I can’t trust you to tell me, I’m not doing this anymore.” He gave him a shake, prompting John to finally look at him. “I can’t.”

There was a tense silence before John quietly replied. “Alright.”

Suddenly, Arthur had the urge to lean in and kiss him. He didn’t — that’s not how things were between them anymore — but the urge was there and it was unnerving. Instead, he grabbed John’s hair again and pulled.

“You want this?” he hissed, rising to lean over the bound man.

“Arthur,” John said, as if the word had been torn from him. As if he had stopped himself from saying ‘please’.

“On the floor,” he growled, shoving John forward roughly but keeping a hand on his shoulder to slow his descent. He was willing enough to play rough, but a bloody nose was likely to spoil the mood. The way John shifted his hips, as if trying to find the best angle, told Arthur that he was hard already. Arthur wasted no time in sitting astride him once more.

“What’s the word, John?” Arthur rocked his hips, letting John feel the growing hardness of his erection.

“Godammit. Moonshine.”

“That’s it,” Arthur said, a little light praise so as not to set John struggling again just yet. “I’ve only got gun oil, is that—”

“Just get on with it.”

“Alright.”

Arthur unbuttoned the drop-seat of John’s union suit, exposing his bare ass. It was the only part of John’s body he got to see these days. Not that he was so foolishly sentimental, just it was a shame to no longer feel John’s hot, sweat-slicked skin against his own. John used to have no problem with exposing himself to Arthur’s gaze. He would strip his own clothes off willingly enough when Arthur snuck into his tent in the night, and even help Arthur with his own, but not anymore. There was no variety anymore. Now, he always wanted it like this — rough, quick, dirty — and all the while pretending he didn’t want it at all. Sometimes Arthur wondered if John was the same with Dutch, or if they now had something more akin to how Arthur and John used to be. He didn’t like the idea that maybe they did, but he wouldn’t let himself analyse that feeling too closely.

After quickly unbuttoning and pulling out his cock, Arthur used his thumbs to part John’s cheeks.

“Get your hands off me!” John yelled vehemently, bucking as much as he could under Arthur’s weight. It would have been enough to unbalance him, if he had not been expecting it.

“Now, now,” Arthur cooed calmly as he coated two fingers in a little oil and slid them down John’s cleft. “Be a good boy for me and you might even enjoy it.”

“Fuck you,” John bit out, shaking his head and trying to blow leaves out of his face.

“That’s the plan, boy,” Arthur chuckled darkly.

“You’re gonna regret this. I’ll see to it.”

“Oh, I doubt that.” Arthur slid his index finger into John’s ass, paying attention to the way he hissed through his teeth at the intrusion. He poured out a little more oil.

The next time he slid his finger in, John unconsciously canted his hips, silently begging for more. It was the only kind of begging Arthur ever got from John. He used to know just how to pull moans and praise and pleas from those lips.

Before Dutch had gotten involved.

Dutch wasn’t to blame, not really. After all, Arthur had known what he was getting himself into. In his infinite wisdom, Dutch had decided that Arthur was the perfect person to explain the way of things to John and to break him in. Arthur had always suspected that it was also to lessen the talking-to Dutch would’ve had from Hosea if he’d been the first to fuck John.

Arthur had introduced the conversation to John the same way that Dutch had introduced it to him many years before: he let the younger man catch him balls deep in some feller he’d pulled out of the saloon. When Arthur had tidied up and John had recovered from the initial shock, Arthur had laid it all out for him, plain and simple. John had taken a while to think things over, but then he’d come to Arthur; a little nervous, but eager to learn.

Drawing his full attention back to the man pinned beneath him, Arthur slid in another finger and a grunt reluctantly tore from John’s throat.

“You like that, huh?” Arthur teased, pressing deeper and earning another strangled sound from John. “Gonna beg me for it like a whore?”

“Like hell!” he yelled, renewing his attempts to struggle free.

“Sure, sure,” Arthur chuckled. “I know you want this. You want me.” He knew it wasn’t quite true. John didn’t want him, only what he could offer. But, as Arthur had explained to John all those years ago, that was the way things were meant to be between men. John had Abigail to love him and such, but some men also had an itch that a woman just couldn’t scratch. John was a lucky man to have a woman who understood that, not that he always appreciated her the way he should. It didn’t seem right to Arthur, but it wasn’t his place to question their arrangements. He was just there to fill in where Dutch wanted him to. As with everything, Arthur always deferred to Dutch.

“You want my cock, don’t you, boy?” Arthur asked rhetorically as he lubed himself up.

“No,” John lied.

“Sure you do.” The outright refusals used to bother him, but now that he knew that John had a get-out, Arthur would sometimes challenge himself to pull them from him. He rubbed his cock between John’s cheeks, relishing the way John tried to spread his knees apart. “You’re desperate for it, you don’t have to hide it. It’s okay to need a real man to take care of you.”

“And that’s you, is it?”

“Yes, John. I’ll take care of you,” he promised, finally pushing his cock slowly into John’s ass.

“Fuuuuck,” John groaned out, failing to suppress his reaction as Arthur pressed in deep, hands holding John’s cheeks apart. When he was pressed against the curve of John’s ass, Arthur rolled his hips, grinding down into him.

“Is that a request?”

“F-Fuck you,” John stuttered, as Arthur drew back just a little and pressed in deep again, before starting to fuck him slow yet deep. He leaned his weight forward, bracing his hands on John’s shoulders.

“She’s just not enough for you, is she? Abigail can’t give you this, and you need it. Don’t you, Marston?”

“Shut your goddamn mouth!” he spat, “You don’t get to talk about her.” He kicked his legs uselessly, trying to shake his shoulders but with so much of Arthur’s weight on him, he could barely move.

“You think you can tell me what to do when you’re all tied up with your ass full of my cock?”

“I mean it, Morgan. You keep her goddamn name out of your mouth!”

“I think that’s just about enough out of you,” Arthur muttered, tugging his bandana off.

“Don’t you dare!”

Arthur scrunched it into a rough ball shape and leant forward, trying to get it into John’s mouth. “Come on, boy.”

“No!” John shouted into the leaves as he tried to avoid the balled-up material.

“Take it!” Arthur replied forcefully, grabbing John’s hair and pulling back sharply. The move made John gasp and Arthur seized his opportunity to stuff it into his mouth. When he let John go, the man continued to struggle beneath him. Arthur’s cock had slipped out of John’s ass in the tussle, so he took the opportunity to nudge John’s knees apart as much as the rope would allow. He dragged John’s left knee up a little higher, which opened him up more and gave Arthur room to kneel between John’s legs.

“I’m gonna make you come, Marston,” Arthur promised, as he pushed his cock easily into John’s ass once more. He hoped he could. For some reason John wouldn’t let Arthur put his hand on John’s cock anymore, so if he didn’t come from Arthur’s cock, he wouldn’t come at all. It left Arthur feeling a little unfulfilled and it happened too often for his liking.

The change of angle meant he could go a little deeper and a little faster, and Arthur didn’t hold back. Through the gag, broken grunts were forced from John with every thrust.

“That’s it, let me hear you. Be my good little bitch and moan for me.”

John gave a muffled roar of protest, struggling uselessly against his bonds and the weight of the man above him.

“Stop! Get off him,” came a shaky voice from behind them, followed by the sound of a gun being cocked.

Arthur turned to see a young man pointing a revolver at him, only about a yard away. He was barely a man, more of a kid to Arthur’s eyes, and the gun trembled in his hand as he tried to fix Arthur with a stern expression.

Arthur slowly sat back on his haunches so that he could raise his hands, his cock slipping wetly out of John’s exposed ass. He spoke calmly. “Look, kid, this isn’t what you think.”

“I said get off him!” the boy shouted, gesturing with the gun.

Arthur slowly swung one leg over John, leaving him on his knees facing the intruder with his still-hard cock protruding from his pants. John stayed put, laying bound and gagged with his ass on display.

“Put the gun down, son. Let us explain.”

The boy tightened his grip but his eyes darted around, trying to fully assess the situation. He was of a fair height, but there wasn’t much meat or muscle on him. From the way he was dressed, he looked to live a comfortable enough life. His clothes weren’t anything special, but they were clean and only lightly worn.

“See how my friend here isn’t trying to get away? This ain’t what it looks like.”

He licked his lips, clearly unsure how he wanted this to play out. “Take that out his mouth.”

Arthur moved slowly, leaning over John to pull the soggy bandana from his mouth.

“You alright?” the young man asked John, but John neither replied nor looked at him. Arthur knew he was on his own here.

“What’s your name, kid?”

His attention flicked back to Arthur, pausing as he seemingly weighed up in his head whether he should answer or not.

“Thomas. Why ain’t he talking?”

“Well, Thomas, he’s not much for talking. Particularly when caught in such a compromising position.”

While Thomas looked John over with concern, Arthur started assessing if he could lunge for the gun in the kid’s hand. Thomas seemed to pick up on it, however, quickly giving Arthur his full attention once more.

“Don’t,” he warned, sounding a little more convincing that time. “I’ll do it. I will.”

“Alright, it’s alright. Just, no one needs to get hurt here. We can talk about this.”

“Untie him!” he finally demanded.

“Look, you need to let us explain. He doesn’t want—”

Thomas squared his shoulders and stepped forward, pointing the gun directly into Arthur’s face. “I said,” he emphasised firmly, “Untie him. Now.”

“Okay, fine,” Arthur huffed, “I’m untying him.”

Arthur’s hands shook with nervous energy and he struggled a little to get the rope loosened, all of John’s struggling having secured the knots tighter than Arthur had intended. It wouldn’t budge.

“Hurry up!”

“It’s too tight. I have a knife in my boot, I can use that to set him loose.”

Another pause while Thomas assessed the risk. His eyes flitted through the woods, in the direction of the road and Arthur hoped there wasn’t anyone out there who would come looking for the boy if he lingered too long.

“Fine,” he said finally, “but don’t try anything.”

Arthur used one hand to pull the knife out slowly, eyes on the kid, and made quick work of the rope binding John’s wrists to his forearms. He cut the loose section of rope connecting John’s ankles and tossed the knife away. They could untie them properly later. John groaned slightly as he moved his stiff arms to push himself onto his knees. His would-be rescuer darted forward to help him, but John brushed him off forcefully, staying on his knees with his back to Arthur.

“Now you,” Thomas said, addressing Arthur, “Get out of here.”

“I can’t do that.” He and John may beat seven shades of shit out of each other from time to time, but they were family. Arthur was losing his patience with this boy, but he knew his position was precarious.

“I’ll shoot!”

“Then damn well shoot me!” Arthur roared, causing Thomas to take a surprised step backwards, “But I’m not leaving him. Shit! John, will you say something?”

John gave a sigh and still didn’t look up as he spoke. “There ain’t no problem here. It’s just sport, is all.”

“Sport?!” Thomas said incredulously. His aim had dropped slightly, but he had moved a little out of Arthur’s reach, standing closer to John.

“You see?” Arthur said, gesturing triumphantly.

“But—I heard… Why would you—?”

“To hell with this.” John quickly and easily twisted the gun out of the kid’s grip and turned it on him. “Walk away.”

“But—” He looked shaken by the unexpected turn of events. “But you—”

Arthur stood, trying to look intimidating despite his limp dick still hanging out of his pants. “Kid, we really don’t want to have to explain, and you sure as hell don’t want to hear it. He’s fine. Just get out of here.”

“I-I’m sorry,” he stuttered as he backed away.

“Get out of here!” John roared forcefully, the kid stumbling as he turned darted off through the trees

John lowered his new gun. The pair were left in the clearing, one ass and one cock hanging out awkwardly. Arthur wasn’t sure how to move on from that.

“Shit!” John yelled in frustration, kicking uselessly at the leaves.

"Goddamn Kid," Arthur muttered as he retrieved his knife. “Should we…?”

“Get back to camp? Yeah, probably,” John replied as he fastened up his drop seat and pulled up his pants.

“Alright,” Arthur shrugged, tucking himself away and moving to the boulder to collect his belongings. When he was all geared up once more, John still hadn’t moved. He was crouched down, slowly working loose the ropes around his ankles. “You coming?”

“I’ll follow along, by and by.”

“Suit yourself,” Arthur said with a knowing smirk as he unhitched his horse. “You know what Dutch says, though.”

“Dutch says a lot of things,” John mumbled, focused on the rope.

“He says that it’s the belief of educated men that finding pleasure by your own hand leads to lunacy.”

“Well, ain’t I lucky I’m not an educated man.”

Arthur laughed, turning his back on John and leading his horse out through the woods. For a moment, he considered riding off and finding his own secluded spot. The mood had rather passed him by, though. He felt as settled as he always did after, despite their interruption, so there was really no need for such indulgence. As he mounted his horse, Arthur wondered if Sean would be on watch yet or if he might want to ride out with him. Then again, Arthur wasn’t sure he still had the energy to deal with Sean. He knew how to take a cock but not how to shut his goddamn mouth.

It also wasn’t worth the trouble it would cause if John found out.

Not for the first time, Arthur wondered what the hell he was doing messing around with John again. Men were meant to be simple; no expectations, no restrictions, just letting off some steam with none of the drama that comes with women.

Things with John had been easy once, but it was never built to last. Arthur thought he’d been okay with that, but the way John had drawn him back in time and time again perhaps suggested otherwise. He knew that, ultimately, there was no point wasting time on working out how he felt or why. Things were more complicated — John belonged to Dutch, now.

At the end of the day, he couldn’t say no to either of them.

Chapter Text

Arthur opened the door to the banking coach and peeked inside while Sean and Mary-Beth checked the guards’ pockets. It looked promising.

He hadn’t seen John much over the last week, with Arthur busy heading out for supplies and looking for scores. They hadn’t fucked since that kid had interrupted them and Arthur had started to feel the itch. Usually, it didn’t bother him. It was easy enough for him to find a different distraction but, this time, riding out to a quiet spot with his journal just wasn’t satisfying him the way it usually did.

The night before, he’d tried to bait John with insults while they played poker with Sadie and Pearson, but Dutch had come over and put a stop to it. Arthur wasn’t sure why he’d felt the need to get involved, but it didn’t matter. John belonged to Dutch. Arthur was grateful that Dutch was happy to share most of the time, but Dutch always got the final say. That was just the way of things in the gang.

Arthur knew his place, but it didn’t help his current situation. Fortunately, another opportunity had arisen, when Sean told him about a solid tip on a score.

“It’s a good’un, right Arthur?” Sean asked excitedly, craning to look around Arthur to the inside of the coach. “Just like I said! Didn’t I tell you it’d be a good’un?”

“Oh it’s good. Could have gone smoother if someone had followed his own plan, but it’s good. Mary-Beth, get yourself out of here.” He whistled for the horses.

“Aren’t you two coming?”

“We made a fair bit of noise, best to split up for now. We’ll only be a minute more.”

Arthur gave her a hand up onto a horse and she rode off.

Sean was up on the wagon, checking the driver’s pockets. “So, when you say about splitting up, do you mean right now, or…?”

“Got some excess energy to shake off, huh?”

“You know how I get after a bit of action, Arthur.” Sean jumped down, almost vibrating with excitement. “What do you say? Wanna let me romance you?”

“Romance??” Arthur scoffed. “Let’s saddle up and we can talk. We’ve hung around too long already.” He called his horse.

“I knew I could count on you, Arthur,” Sean grinned, stowing his rifle and mounting his horse. “Come on, I know a place.”

“Now hold on,” Arthur called ahead as he quickly followed suit, “I didn’t actually agree to anything yet.”

Sean slowed his horse slightly to let Arthur catch up, winking at him over his shoulder. “Ah, but how can you hope to refuse my roguish charm, eh?”

Arthur rolled his eyes, trying to stifle a smile. “So, where we headed?”

“You’ll see. I got a real nice spot, as long as the weather stays on our side. Real romantic. You’re gonna love it, I promise.”

“If it’s anything like the last place you found, I ain’t letting you pick again.”

“That was an honest mistake! It was empty when I found it.”

“And it was full of dead bodies by the time we left it.”

“Oh, quit your belly-aching, you got some pocket change out of it, didn’t you? Anyway you weren’t complaining once I got on my knees.”

Arthur certainly couldn’t argue with that. Sean’s enthusiasm was always a welcome change of pace from John’s games. It was nice to fuck someone who wasn’t afraid to show their appreciation.

“We’re coming off on the right down here.”

Sean led them through the trees and up a hill, round a short rocky ledge and out onto a grassy plateau. Arthur dismounted and surveyed the spot. It was a great view, not overlooked and high enough that they wouldn’t be heard from the road. There was also a large flat rock that would serve as a fine make-shift bed. Sean had done well.

He was knocked from his thoughts when Sean stepped up behind him, firm hands stroking soothingly over his shoulders. He turned to face the younger man, seeing he’d already left his hat and jacket on his horse.

“So what are we doing up here?” Arthur asked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Sean’s ear as Sean set to work unbuckling Arthur’s gun belt.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, Arthur,” Sean cooed, his free hand stroking briefly over Arthur’s bicep. “I’ve got it all planned out. Leave it to me.” He gently steered Arthur backwards until he felt the rock against the back of his legs. At Sean’s prompting, he sat. “You just sit back and enjoy yourself.”

“After what just went down with that holdup, my faith in your ability to stick to your own plans is somewhat suspect.”

Sean brought their faces close together as he leant forward, laying Arthur’s belt onto the rock beside him. “Have I ever left you disappointed?” he asked confidently.

“Only every time you open your mouth.”

“I’ve told you how to shut me up, Arthur.” Sean leant in confidently and kissed him briefly, hand covering Arthur’s growing erection and squeezing gently. “Let me taste that handsome cock of yours,” Sean muttered against his lips.

“And I’ve told you, that’s off-limits,” Arthur said sternly, grabbing Sean’s wrist and moving it away from his crotch.

Sean looked a little taken aback. He straightened up, pulling his wrist free from Arthur’s grip and giving him a bit of space. “What kind of man doesn’t want his cock sucked?”

“This kind,” Arthur said as he stood, squaring up to the younger man. “You need to stop pushing for it, Sean, and show me a little respect. No means no.”

Sean held his hands up placatingly. “Alright, message received. I just really like sucking cock. Didn’t realise how important it was to you. I’m happy taking what I can get.”

Arthur nodded his appreciation as he backed down. There was an uncomfortable silence between them.

“Do you want to head back to camp?”

The corners of Arthur’s mouth twitched, giving the bare suggestion of a smile. Sean was a good kid. His overenthusiastic nature often led to him being inadvertently insensitive but he was learning to recognise it after the fact, which was a start. Arthur sat back down on the rock.

“I want you to come here and finish what you started.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Sean grinned, hurriedly undoing his pants. Arthur tossed aside his hat and grabbed the tin of pomade from his satchel before dropping it down with his hat. Sean had shoved down his jeans and was unbuttoning his drop seat.

“Pass it here,” Sean said, holding his hand out for the pomade.

Arthur patted his lap. “If you wanna come here I’ll do that for you.” He used to enjoy spreading John across his lap and opening him up slowly. Things with John weren’t like that anymore, but Sean let him take his time when the mood was right. He was a good kid, and he deserved Arthur’s undivided attention. He attempted to steer his thoughts away from John and concentrate on the man half undressed before him.

Sean slicked his fingers and reached behind himself. “I don’t know about you but I plan on getting back to camp before dinner,” he said cheekily.

“Eager for it, huh?” Arthur unbuttoned his pants, standing briefly to push them down just past his ass and got out his cock, stroking it loosely.

“Patience was never my strong suit,” Sean grinned, leaning forward slightly to finger-fuck himself a little deeper. “Fuck, I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“Had this planned all day, have you?”

“All day, sure.”

“Don’t tell me you concocted this whole robbery just for an excuse to get my cock, Mr MacGuire?”

“You won’t be complaining in a minute, I promise you.” Sean put his hands on Arthur’s knees and spread them, stepping between his legs and turning around. Arthur stopped him with a hand on his wrist.

“Hey, how about turning round?”

“I don’t care how big your cock is, English. I’m not taking my shoes off out here for you.”

“That’s fair,” Arthur said, tugging on Sean’s wrist, pulling him into kissing distance. “Only I can’t kiss you if you face away.”

Sean grinned. “You only want to kiss me to shut me up.”

“So do you not like me kissing you?”

“Now I didn’t say that.” Sean leant in again, but this time Arthur closed the gap. Sean’s lips parted eagerly for his tongue and he gave a small moan.

“Fuck it,” Sean said, pulling away and kicking off his shoes. “But if I get bitten by a snake you’re sucking the poison out my toe.”

“I’ve heard of some men being into strange shit, doesn’t surprise me you’d be one of them.”

Sean stepped carelessly out of his jeans, leaving them on the floor as he straddled Arthur’s lap, kneeling on the rock either side of him. Arthur leant back, propped up on his hands to give Sean enough room to position himself over Arthur’s cock.

“You haven’t complained yet…”

Arthur watched, enraptured, as Sean’s face contorted through the mix of discomfort and pleasure as he slowly lowered himself onto Arthur’s cock.

“Shit, that’s the good stuff,” Sean hissed as his ass came to rest against Arthur’s thighs.

“Come on, boy. Fuck yourself on my cock.”

“Why sir, it would be my pleasure.” Sean started rocking his hips, but Arthur made him gasp with a sudden upward thrust.

“Cheeky shit.”

“Oh fuck, do that again.”

Arthur adjusted his footing and thrust up into Sean as he bounced up and down. A litany of moans fell from Sean’s lips, his hands gripping tightly at Arthur’s shoulders for balance.

“Christ!”

“You can just call me ‘Arthur’.”

“Oh, suddenly he’s got a sense of humor. Very nice.”

“Shut up,” Arthur groaned in jest.

“Make me,” Sean challenged.

Arthur shifted his weight to one hand and grabbed Sean by the back of the neck with the other, pulling him in and kissing him deeply as he continued to roll his hips. Sean moaned loudly and brokenly into his mouth. Arthur knew he wouldn’t last long.

Sean’s pace started to falter. Arthur wasn’t sure if he was close or if his knees were giving out but he was chasing his climax and couldn’t quite keep up the speed he needed without Sean’s help.

He wrapped his arms tightly around Sean. “Hold on,” he muttered against his lips before standing up with no further warning. He quickly spun them and laid Sean down on his back on the rock, his cock slipping out of him in the manoeuvre.

“Fuck, I love it when you do that.” Sean was undoing the front of his union suit, allowing himself access to his cock.

Arthur frowned down at him. “Do what?”

“Just show off your strength like it’s nothing. It’s a real turn-on.”

“Well, my turn-on is less talking.”

“Then you, my friend, are fucking the wrong guy.”

Arthur grabbed Sean’s hips and dragged him nearer the edge, sinking his cock easily back in and making Sean cry out in pleasure.

“Fuck yes, that’s the spot,” Sean moaned as he started rubbing his cock. “I’m nearly there, Arthur. Don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Arthur panted out, planting his hands either side of Sean’s head as he continued to fuck him fast and deep.

“Harder, Arthur,” Sean demanded. “And hurry up. This rock is digging into me.”

“Goddamn princess,” Arthur snarled, even as he leaned in and captured Sean’s lips once more. His hips stuttered as he came, panting into Sean’s mouth.

He made to push himself up, but Sean grabbed at him with his free hand while his other still furiously stroked his cock. “Wait,” he begged.

Arthur straightened up a little but was careful not to let his cock slip out of Sean’s ass.

“Let me,” he offered, wrapping his hand around Sean’s cock and tugging him to completion.

Sean gave a loud moan as he came, back arching and hands clawing at Arthur’s arms. Arthur kept stroking him through it, until Sean sagged against the rock and batted Arthur’s hand away.

Arthur gave a satisfied chuckle, leaning down for a few more quick kisses before his softening cock slipped from Sean’s ass. Sean looked up at him dopily, reaching out to push Arthur’s hair out of his face.

“You know, if you were a younger man Arthur Morgan, and if your heart wasn’t someone else’s, I’d happily wife you.”

Arthur forced a laugh, but stood up so that Sean didn’t have a front-row seat to the mix of emotions dancing across his face. He started tucking himself away and pulling up his pants. “Oh, would you now? And what makes you think I’d let you?”

Sean secured the front of his union suit but made no other attempt to get himself together. “Because you don’t think you deserve to be happy. And I make you lose your mind with my incessant chatter, so we’d be perfect together, in another lifetime.”

“Put your goddamn pants on,” Arthur muttered dismissively, grabbing them from the floor and throwing them directly at Sean’s head.

“I can’t help it if a good fuck makes me honest.” Sean started getting himself dressed.

“I’m sure it has nothing to do with the whiskey you was knocking back before the job.” Arthur shoved Sean playfully out of the way as he reached for his belongings. He looked out over the view as he secured his gun belt.

“You gonna bring him up here?”

Arthur didn’t need to ask who Sean meant. They’d previously talked about John, about how things are now, in a vague sort of way. Arthur didn’t talk about how things used to be. That was just between him and John.

“We’ll see.”

“He’s still making you do things his way.” It was more of an observation than a question.

Arthur scrubbed roughly at his jaw. “I know where I stand with him.”

Sean slipped back into his shoes and stood beside him with Arthur’s hat in his hands. “Ay, but are you standing where you want to be?”

Arthur turned away from him, avoiding eye contact as he gathered his satchel. “I don’t know what you’re getting at, MacGuire, but best you drop what doesn’t concern you.”

“Like I said, I’m happy to take what I can get, while I can get it.”

“Well, good,” he said quietly, turning back to him. Sean reached up and placed the hat on Arthur’s head, taking a moment to adjust the angle.

“But I would like to see you happy, too,” he said before turning away and heading for his horse.

“How could I be anything else after a great fuck like that?” Arthur called after him.

“Another life, Arthur Morgan.” Sean grinned as he climbed up onto his horse, donning his hat and looking back at Arthur one last time. “Ten years younger and you’d have been mine.”

“Get out of here, you little shit,” Arthur grumbled, but he couldn’t keep the smile from his face.

Sean rode off and Arthur sat back down on the rock for a moment, watching the sun start to dip behind the mountains in the distance. He pulled a bottle of whiskey and his journal from his satchel and started to sketch.