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Arthur waited until he was sure everyone was asleep. Dutch was a man who snored something fierce, shifting every so often where he was tucked up against Hosea.
Hosea was used to it. He slept still and silent like a dead man with his hands folded over his belly, and hat laid over his face.
John lay in his own bedroll, fast asleep. One hand was settled under his blanket near his hip. After the childhood he’d had, he slept with a hand ready to draw. The other was carelessly folded up near his head, his fingertips just barely resting against his own face. His hair was a bit of a mess, a thin lock shifting back and forth near his mouth as he breathed. Peaceful. Exhausted.
Dutch, Hosea and Arthur had been relieved when John had ridden to their meeting place long after sundown. They’d feared the worst had befallen him after they’d all been separated during that bank job. It had been John’s quick thinking and narrow frame that had gotten them out of a tight spot. Fearlessly, or stupidly, he’d stuffed himself through a back window before Arthur could stop him. Then he’d circled around to lay down fire on the law from behind.
It had given the other three men the chance they needed to escape with the money. Nearly at the cost of his own hide. Arthur was proud of him. Aggravated with him too. But proud. He’d done fine work, and came back alive and unscathed. He deserved a reward.
Around three in the morning, Arthur reached over and threw back John’s blanket.
The younger man, of course, was reasonably spooked. He woke with a startle, hand resting on his gun. However, he calmed instantly when he saw who was leaning over him. It made Arthur feel a little giddy that John placed so much trust in him.
He tensed up again when the big man threw a leg over his and straddled him. Pointedly, he looked over at Dutch and Hosea, slumbering in their bedroll. The waving light from the fire caught in his irises, making them look almost yellow.
Arthur reached down, grasped his jaw and turned him back to look at him.
John stared softly up at him, licked his lips in anticipation when Arthur leaned down. And then he was being kissed senseless. The big man was gentle when he wanted to be, but sometimes he was rough. Their stubble burned together, and John could hardly breathe. But his heartbeat raced in anticipation, and his belly filled with heat.
Inhaling sharply, he pulled back, biting his lip hard to keep from making a sound.
Mischievous blue eyes gazed warmly down at him, and he dropped a kiss on John’s chin. A firm hand grasped and rubbed at the crotch of his trousers, feeling tighter and tighter by the second. Swallowing hard, John opened his mouth to whisper a protest, glancing over at Dutch and Hosea again.
A calloused finger pressed against his lips, shushing him. Arthur smiled playfully and shifted his body downwards.
John propped himself up on his elbows. He watched the big man undo both of their flies with practiced precision. The soft sandy locks were combed neatly out of his face. Just made John want to slide his fingers through it. Shit, Arthur Morgan was pleasing to look at, even when he was being a mean son of a bitch. John watched him tug open his drawers and pull out his cock. It was exposed to the cool air for a mere second before Arthur got his mouth around it.
That was when John did himself the favor of clamping a hand over his mouth. If he wanted this to go on, he had to be silent. And he really, really didn’t want to stop. Not anymore. Not now. Getting a good suck was a surefire way to get anyone to throw caution to the wind.
And, Jesus, was it a good suck.
Arthur could do this...thing...with his throat. Take him all in, tighten around him. Then pull back up, sucking all the way. Rub furiously beneath the crown maddenly with his tongue. Circle around it. Warm and wet. Too much, too fast. Something that John couldn’t quite recreate when he went down on Arthur. But that could have something to do with Arthur’s...size.
The younger’s hip rolled up, his thighs tensed as he struggled to keep still.
Whimpering behind his palm, John pressed his other hand against the side of Arthur’s head. Warning him the only way he could. And then the salacious mouth was replaced with a rough hand, stroking with a vigor that was borderline painful. But just about perfect.
His own mouth was smothered in another kiss. He tasted his own intimate parts, shuddering. Jumping at the sting of teeth, sighing at the soothing, searching tongue. Moisture formed at the corners of John’s eyes as his blood burned hotter and hotter. The deep, enthralling kisses and the rapid tugging of his lover’s hand, half slick with spit and half dry with the friction. Bumping him up against his own straining cock as he worked them in both of his hands.
Holding his breath, his cry of release was dampened. Arthur grunted, holding in all of the sounds he wanted to let loose, spilling over his knuckles, all over John’s groin. Adding to an increasing mess as the younger deliriously rode through the mutual waves.
Arthur drew in a deep breath and shuddered, leaning down to press his cheek against John’s. He listened to his lover breathe. Slowly coming down together. Their muscles loosening from the exertion. Melting into one another. Breathing softly together in one another’s ear. Feeling satisfied and warm. Happy to be alive. Grateful for the safety of the other. Kinda tender-like.
“Suppose I’ll take watch and let you boys get your beauty sleep.”
The two young men stiffened when Hosea spoke. Out of the corner of his eye, John watched the older man sit up, tipping his hat back. He watched the knowing smirk and the rolling of the wise eyes. Unable to help it, John laughed airly and low.
Arthur heaved a sigh but didn’t move, hiding his blush, “Shut the hell up, Marston.”
“Will you all keep it down?” Dutch grumbled, pulling the blanket back up over his head and rolling over, “Folks’re tryin’ to sleep!”