Chapter Text
Arthur spots John’s horse outside the small town’s saloon. The big gelding is half asleep where he’s tethered but still lifts his head to whuff a hello at Boadicea when he recognizes her.
His girl sidles up to the other horse, nosing a greeting as Arthur dismounts and hitches her beside him, offering them both a friendly pat before he turns to go in search of their wayward companion.
Inside the saloon, he’s immediately aware that something is off. It’s as loud and chaotic as any bar he’s ever been in, with local men arguing over drinks or flirting with the resident working girls, but there’s also an obvious bubble of space that no one’s entering near one corner of the room.
A corner where John is sat, fiddling with something on his wrist and looking annoyed.
Arthur sighs and heads for the younger man.
“What’d ya do?” He asks, dropping to sit across from the man and swiping the remains of his beer.
“Huh?” John looks up, blinking at him in confusion. “What? Nothin…!”
Arthur gives a pointed glance around at the obviously empty space surrounding them and raises an eyebrow.
“You sure about that?”
“Seriously – this town is weird as fuck-all but I ain’t done nothin.” John glares back at him, reaches for the beer that Arthur’s stolen, and pouts when he realizes it’s empty. “Guess they’re weird about outsiders or something? I dunno.”
He casts a glance towards the bar as if considering if it’s worth braving the packed and possibly hostile part of the Saloon in search of a replacement.
“Sure.” Arthur draws the word out, his skepticism clear.
“Whatever. Why are you here anyway?” He demands, tugging again at a weird bracelet that he’s acquired sometime between now and earlier that morning when he’d left to supposedly go hunting.
“Abigail got worried ‘bout ya.” Arthur squints at him. “And I had to come into town anyway to check for mail.” He motions to the bracelet. “You turning into a fashionable lady on us, Johnny?”
“Wha…?” John follows his eyes to where he’s picking at the thing on his wrist and then frowns. “Some fella gave it to me for saving him from some wolves up near the river.” He shrugs and pulls on it again. The skin around the bracelet looks pink and aggrivated from all his tugging. “I just put it on ‘cause there’s a hole in my pocket, only now I can’t get the damn thing off again.”
Arthur frowns at that and holds out his own hand for John’s with a clear gimme motion. The younger man grumbles but holds out his wrist for Arthur's inspection.
John’s hand is warm in his, the skin at the base of his thumb slightly swollen. Arthur can guess that his hands must have swelled some as the day went on, and all the yanking he’s doing on the metal hoop has made the problem all the worse.
The bracelet itself is a relatively simple flat silver loop but it has a strange violet stone set on the back, with some odd-looking symbols he doesn’t recognize scratched into the metal on either side of the setting. It’s not exactly pretty, but it feels thick and heavy enough that it’s probably worth something just for the silver of the band, and though the odd stone could well just be tinted glass the shape and color are unusual enough a fair number of folk might want to pay something for it anyway.
Arthur turns John’s wrist over a few times, running his thumb along the edge of the metal. It feels almost hot against his fingers and he finds the sounds of saloon around them seems to fade into the background as he studies it. John’s skin feels surprisingly soft under his touch and he presses hard on the base of the man’s thumb just to see the color lighten in a ring around his fingers. The firm pressure has to hurt, and he’s startled when the idea of that sends a rush of want straight to his groin.
All at once, he’s picturing himself pinning John’s hands to the ground, grip tight around his wrists while he stares down into dark, dark eyes. Parted lips pant out a breath that ghosts over his own in a mockery of a kiss. There’s a wet, sloppy sound nearby and he drags his eyes away from the imagined face below to look down at where Abigail kneels over the man’s crotch, a pretty flush on her cheeks and her pink lips stretched around John’s cock. She pulls off the rigid shaft with a pop and a grin, a hand reaching out for him and…
Arthur tumbles backward in his chair, scrambling away from John.
A few of the nearest patrons of the saloon cast him a wary look, skittering away from his awkward sprawl. Across the small table, John’s on his feet looking down at him with something that’s half confused, and half amused.
“… the fuck?” Arthur blinks up at the deep brown eyes that he can still picture blown wide with lust and shivers in spite of himself.
“You okay?” John offers him a hand up which he stares at with a kind of dawning horror.
He has no idea where it came from but somehow holding John’s hand for just that one moment has brought all those carefully suppressed desires he keeps tucked away flooding up to the surface of his mind.
He’s definitely not okay.
“Fine. Just… overbalanced.” Arthur swats the offered hand away and climbs back to his feet unsteadily, pointedly ignoring the way his pants have begun to tighten uncomfortably.
“Uh-huh.” John sounds skeptical.
“Come on - I was sent to get you, boy. Let’s get back to camp before your woman sends the rest of the cavalry.” He waves John towards the entrance, determined to ignore whatever the fuck just happened in his head. The younger man rolls his eyes but stalks out towards their horses anyway.
Arthur doesn’t miss the way the sea of people in the saloon part around him as he goes, all of them careful to keep their distance. There is something seriously fishy going on here.
John watches Arthur curiously as they make their way back to camp, trying to figure out what’s going on with the man. It’s not at all like him to stumble and even less so in a crowd of people.
It’s concerning, but also kind of amusing to see Arthur off-balance like that. John’s spent most of his life following the man around and watching him power through life as if the foibles and failings of other people can’t touch him. Whatever’s tripped him up at last… well, John wants to know about it.
Absently he rubs at his sore wrist, the feeling of the man’s big hand engulfing his own fresh in his mind. For a moment when Arthur had grabbed the meat of his thumb, he’d been able to imagine what it would feel like for it to be Arthur holding him down instead of Abigail tying his hands to their cot and fuck.
John knows it’s an impossible dream, but that’s never stopped him from having it. At least Abigail is as fond of the idea as he is. It helps to have a partner to commiserate with.
The sun is setting as they ride, casting a warm glow over the big shoulders and slim hips that sway in the saddle ahead of him, and John lets his mind wander into the familiar fantasy. He’s been more than a bit worked up all day, ever since his morning quickie with Abigail had been interrupted mid-coitus when Sean had accidentally stumbled into Dutch’s gramophone and woken the whole damn camp.
He can still remember vividly the feel of Abi’s slick heat around him. Soft panting breaths against his neck as she rode him. A slow, torturous rocking that had been more a tease than anything else. He’d been so close to snapping the way she was clearly hoping he would and just grabbing her hips, thrusting up as hard and fast as he knew they both liked.
He's often wondered how Arthur likes it - slow and teasing or rough and demanding.
The big man seems like he’d be such a careful lover but John would bet they could push him hard enough to snap that iron control he holds over himself. He's sure that would be something to see.
John can just imagine Arthur teased past the point of control. Maybe he’d rip Abigail up and off of him, drag her down into his own lap and make John watch him fuck her hard. He can picture the pretty flush on Abi’s cheeks at that, the pink that spills down her face and over her shoulders to trace the tops of her breasts when she’s really worked up. Arthur would hold her flush against him – her back to his front as he drove into her from behind, one hand wrapped around her neck to hold her arched against him.
Abi’s had Arthur before.
Just the once, but she likes to reminisce with John about it. How… big Arthur is all over.
John’s seen the man naked a few times, you don’t live the way they do and maintain much in the way of modesty after all. But it’s one thing to see him soft – impressive enough as that is - and another entirely to imagine what he’s like fully aroused.
John desperately wants to see it. Wants to see how he’d fill Abi up in a different way than John does. Maybe John would lean in and feel it. Run his fingers over where they were joined. Feel how hot and wet she was around the big man’s cock, how tight the lips of her cunt stretched around him. Lean in with his lips and tongue and taste the flavor of their combined arousal….
Ahead of him Boadicea whinnies and half rears up and John is pulled from his imaginings by Arthur trying to calm the usually stoic mare.
“Everything okay?” He calls out as Arthur finally calms the horse.
“Sure. Just…. Just fine.” Arthur’s voice is deep and raspy and John wonders if the man is coming down with something.
At least they’re almost back to camp.
“No luck with the hunting?” Sadie asks when they ride up.
She’s bullied someone into letting her have guard duty again and has her rifle slung casually over one shoulder as she squints up at them. John isn’t sure if a hat can be judgmental, but he feels like Sadie’s hat is tilted in such a way that it’s judging him anyway.
“I got… distracted.” He admits.
“And we got hungry.” She tells him flatly.
“Sorry.” He does feel bad about coming back more or less empty-handed. “There was a fella and some wolves and… anyway, I got a.. “ He lifts his hand to show off the ugly bracelet. “If I can get it back off it’s probably worth something decent.”
Sadie steps closer and tugs his hand down so she can examine the silver hoop. Poking curiously at the weird purple stone at its center.
“Stop yanking at it,” Arthur suggests. “And it’ll come off on its own eventually.”
“I’ll go out again tomorrow and make up for it.” John offers when Sadie releases him.
“Forget it.” She says, waving him off. “Charles is back and he’s a better hunter than you anyway.”
“Hey! I’m not that bad.” John protests.
“As the one of us that has to make something with the dismal carcasses you bring back every time, I disagree. You know how many bullets I dug outta those rabbits last week?” She lets go of his arm, crossing her own and favoring him with a dour look.
“And how many rabbits have you even brought back to camp this month?” He argues.
“Children!” Arthur interrupts their bickering. “You’re both equally terrible hunters.” He dismounts and John follows suit, rolling his eyes.
“Screw you, Morgan.” Sadie spits at him, and John laughs when Arthur trips over his own feet at her words. He really has no idea what’s going on with the man, but it’s kind of hilarious.
Arthur just glares at both of them and then stalks away, looking appealingly irritated.
“He been drinkin or something?” Sadie wonders.
“Hell, if I know.” John shrugs. “You seen Abigail?”
John sleeps fantastically that night, enjoys a languorous morning wake-up courtesy of Abigail’s mouth, and crawls out of his tent ready to redeem himself from his previous day’s failed hunt.
He spies Charles making coffee with a groggy-looking Sadie and figuring two guns will be better than one, heads off to invite himself along with the man in search of some decent game.
“You’re in a good mood.” Charles muses as he agrees to the company.
“Had a good night’s sleep.” He shrugs, appreciating the warmth and tang of the hot drink. Sadie lifts an eyebrow at him, her eyes even more intense than usual for some reason. John considers being worried about what’s going on in her head but it’s too nice a day for that, crisp and bright and clear.
Arthur stumbles out of his lean-to as he and Charles are collecting provisions for the day. The older man looks like he just crawled out of a ditch. Or maybe a bottle of tequila. He has dark circles under his eyes and is twitchy as anything. He actually jumps when John goes to check on him and the younger man inspects him worriedly.
Maybe he really is getting sick.
“You feeling okay?” He asks, worried.
“Fine!” Arthur hurries to say, not meeting his eyes as he dodges John’s concerned pat on the shoulder.
John frowns at him and opens his mouth to say more, but then Charles is yelling for him to get a move on and he figures that it can keep a few more hours.
They track a small herd of deer out onto the plains and John hunches down in the tall grasses beside Charles, looking for an opportunity to take out one of the animals without giving them all a chance to spook. After a moment of consideration, Charles taps him on the shoulder and motions for him to follow him to a better vantage along a nearby ridge.
John checks his rifle as they re-settle, his mind drifting back to that morning’s blow job.
He’d had no idea the multitude of ways you could use a mouth to give pleasure before Abigail. She’d introduced him to the pleasures of oral after a pregnancy scare a few years before as a way to still get them both off when she was at a higher-risk part of her womanly cycle, but John found it was a good time no matter the day of the month and had taken to it wholeheartedly.
It wasn’t just the feel of her own warm mouth around him that he liked, though he did very much enjoy that, but the way she reacted when he returned the favor. It was like nothing else to watch her come apart under him, hips twitching involuntarily against his lips and the warm musky taste and smell of arousal flooding his senses. He owed her a return for the wake-up call. Maybe when he got back from this trip he could steal her away for an hour or two.
There was a mostly hidden mossy overhang a short walk away from their current camp that they’d retreated to a few times now. The ground was soft with the spongy flora and the overhanging stones blocked the harsh sun. He could lay her down there… maybe pin her arms back with his belt and hitch her legs up over his shoulders before diving in to taste her folds and suck at her clit.
His mind flits back to the day before and the image flashes of Arthur there with them. John would love to get either of their mouths on the man. He wonders how that would go… if anyone’s ever done that for the man. Hell, the way she talks about him, John wonders if Arthur would even fit in Abi’s small mouth. Maybe they’d need to work together… she could work his tip and John could focus on the rest of him, get a hand on that thick shaft and his lips around the man’s balls and…
A gunshot distracts him from his musings, and he glances over at Charles in surprise. The deer they’ve been stalking have scattered at the sound and the other man has a look on his face like he’s just swallowed a lemon. John wonders if he’s somehow caught the same thing he suspects Arthur has.
“Uh… slippery finger?” He asks, hesitantly.
Charles’ eye twitches at his words.
“Sure.” His voice is strangled.
“Ooookay.” John glances from him to the retreating deer and back again. “You feeling okay? Arthur seemed like he might be coming down with something… you think you might have caught it too?”
He reaches out so he can feel the man’s forehead for a temperature and Charles leans away, staring at his arm like it’s a snake. After an awkward moment, John drops his hand.
“I think… I’m going to go over there…” Charles waves vaguely in the direction the herd has run. “And… I think you should go…. Over there.” He points to the far side of the field. “See if you can… flank them… or something.”
“You… want me to try and scare them towards you?” He asks, confused at them splitting up.
“Sure. Yes.” Charles climbs to his feet, hunching a bit as if he’s in pain. “Do that.”
“You sure you’re okay?” John calls as he turns to leave.
“Fine!” Charles insists, limping away. “Just… Go! Over there… please.”
John shakes his head as he stalks away. There must be something going around camp.
He wanders to the other side of the field quietly, before settling in to wait for the herd to calm back down and return to the good grazing nearby.
As he waits, he lets his mind drift once more.
It’s been a while since they used it, but he’s thinking about asking Abigail to pull out that wooden shaft of hers that evening. With his mind stuck on Arthur lately he’d like to have the feel of it, maybe see if they can shake loose that continuous arousal that’s been itching at him recently.
He reaches down to adjust himself at the idea. There’s something different about the satisfaction he feels when he comes with that smooth, hard length inside of him. Almost like a full-body release.
Abigail’s become a real expert at using it over the years as well. Knows just how to angle it inside him and how hard and fast to thrust. She can bring him off with just that wooden cock in his ass and her filthy words in his ear and he loves it when she does.
It’s been long enough for him that he suspects it will be a tight fit again, that stretch that’s always so intense after a long break is incredible. If he closes his eyes he can almost imagine it – the feel of a firm thick shaft pushing inside, the rub of its tip against that place inside of him that floods his chest with heat and his cock with blood…
The sound of another wild shot interrupts his daydreaming, and he sighs. He isn’t sure what’s going on with Charles but this is looking like it will be a longer hunt than he’d expected.
Two more missed shots from Charles later, and John’s the one that finally nets them a buck as the herd startles at last in his direction. He squints at the other man as they tie the animal onto Old Boy’s back, trying to figure out if he really is sick.
Unfortunately, Charles is being as quiet and unreadable as ever as well as staying very carefully out of John’s reach and refusing to meet his gaze.
“I really think you oughtta rest when we get back, this ain’t like you.” He gestures to the deer carcass as they mount up.
Charles just grunts in return, and John spends the ride back confused and worried that there’s some horrible flu going around or something.
Sadie’s on watch again when they get back and her sharp eyes flit between the two of them as they ride up.
“Brought you that deer I promised.” He offers, and she rolls her eyes.
“Well, get it over to Pearson then.” She orders gruffly. “I need to talk to Charles.”
John sighs but moves to do as he’s told. The sooner he gets this done the sooner he can go find Abigail.
A walnut smacks him in the back of the head and he yelps and turns to glare back at Sadie who is pointing at him with fire in her eyes.
“Do NOT finish that thought.” She says.
“What thought?! I didn’t say nothin'!” He protests, rubbing the spot she’s hit. She just continues to glare at him, her jaw working like she wants to say something before finally throwing up her hands, grabbing a wide-eyed Charles and dragging him away back in the direction they’d come from.
John shakes his head and hoists the deer over his shoulder. There is something wrong with that woman.
----
Arthur is losing his goddamn mind.
It’s the only possible explanation for why he spends an entire night and most of the next day dreaming about doing incredibly filthy things to John and Abigail.
As if the strange moment with John in the saloon the night before has opened some kind of floodgates he suddenly can’t stop thinking about the pair of them.
On the ride home, he imagines fucking Abigail while John pets and licks at the place of their joining and that night he dreams of being pinned between the two while John ruts into him from behind and Abigail rides his cock. In the morning it’s a confusing mix of wet heat and lips and suction that feels almost as if he’s drunk. Like a lazy pleasure that he can’t even fully attribute to any faces though somehow he just knows the two are involved.
He dodges John’s concern, terrified that if the man actually gets a hand on him he’ll do something mortifying like grab him and ravish his mouth. Or maybe drag him off into the hills and fuck him into the next week. Or else shove the both of them back into the man’s tent where he knows Abigail hasn’t yet emerged for the day.
This is… not a thing he’s allowed to think about. He’d resolved himself to it years ago when Abigail had first moved herself into John’s tent, her intentions clear.
It had been a tiny bit disappointing when it had happened. He and Abigail had a nice time when she’d first joined them. She was the kind of woman he enjoyed being around – quick-witted and sharp-tongued with lovely curves and a pretty face to round out the bite.
But he’d been still a bit wrung out over Mary then and hadn’t had near enough to offer her.
And John… well, John had always been off-limits. Dutch would have skinned him alive just for looking back then, even if a twenty-year-old John had been none too subtle about wanting Arthur’s gaze.
So it had been disappointing in its way to see them paired off, but also kind of safe. Two kinds of temptation off the table. And Arthur had done what he always did with that kind of thing and congratulated the two of them and then buried any ideas he might have had with either deep down where they wouldn’t bother him none.
To suddenly be having those… wants, front and center in his mind again…
“You’re lookin' pretty pale this morning,” Sadie tells him when he pulls himself together enough at John’s departure to scrounge himself some caffeine.
“Bad night.” He offers, chugging back a mug of scalding coffee before going in for another. Maybe he should see if there’s any whiskey around he can add to the drink.
“Oh?” Sadie’s watching him with a calculating look that he doesn’t quite know what to do with. “Something happen with John last night?”
He chokes on the hot drink, sputtering helplessly.
There is no way she can know what’s been running through his mind.
“What?” He asks dumbly when he can breathe again.
“Last night? When you went into town to collect the idiot?”
“Nothin'.” Arthur can feel himself flushing guiltily and hopes she’ll mistake it as being from the coughing fit. “You heard him. He got into something out near the river and got that ugly ass bracelet for his trouble.”
“And there weren’t nothin'… weird when you saw him in town?” She presses.
He blinks, remembering the bubble around the man in the saloon the night before.
“So there was something.” She says, giving him a hard look.
“Uh… suppose so? Not sure what, but the locals were giving us a pretty wide berth.” Arthur frowns and scratches at his chin, trying to remember. “They didn’t seem hostile or anything. Just kinda spooked.”
“Huh.” Sadie turns her gaze away from him, staring into the campfire thoughtfully.
“You know something?” He wonders, feeling somehow even more off-balance than he’s already been that morning.
“Workin' on a theory.” She says, and then throws back the dregs of her coffee and stalks off, leaving Arthur alone with his internal crisis.
Tragically, Abigail has gone into town when John goes in search of her and so he’s instead roped into taking Sadie’s place guarding the camp when it’s apparent she’s absconded with Charles somewhere and almost the entire rest of the gang seems to be out as well for some reason.
He settles in for a boring evening, but before he can start to feel too sorry for himself a confused-looking Lenny rides up to relieve him.
“Sadie sent me. Told me to tell you she needs you to go help her with something about Arthur? They’re stopped just off the road coming up from town.”
John frowns but isn’t about to argue an excuse to get out of guard duty.
“Okay, thanks,” He goes to clap Lenny on the shoulder and the man shuffles back from him, arms raised.
“She also said that whatever I did I wasn’t to let you touch me?”
John has no idea what to even start to say to that, but whatever Sadie’s told the kid he seems to be taking it seriously, so he just shrugs and heads off to get Old Boy tacked up.
It’s getting dark by the time he finds them.
Charles is waiting by the side of the road for him and the man motions him to follow him out into the forest and down to a clearing where Sadie, Arthur, and Abigail are seated around a small fire. Someone has set up a traveling tent nearby. John thinks it might be Arthur's.
The whole thing feels… really weird. They’re not so far from camp for it to make any sense for all of them to not just head back for the night, but they’re far enough away that no one will be likely to find them either.
“What’s goin’ on?” He asks warily, ground tying Old Boy beside Boadicea.
Abigail grins at him, which is kinda comforting as he sits beside her, but Sadie glares at the both of them and kicks his boot, and that’s a lot less so. She fixes him with one of those hard stares of hers that always spell trouble.
“John. We need to talk.”