Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Hope you’re enjoying the stew, I took a piss in it earlier.” Arthur choked on the spoonful of stew he had just tried to swallow.

“Fuck off, Micah.” He hacked out between coughs, trying hard to convince his body that Micah was only joking, trying to gross him out. Besides, Pearson would skin him alive if he suspected any funny business with his precious stew.

Micah vanished with a cackle, probably headed to kiss Dutch’s arse or something equally spineless. Arthur sighed, putting his stew aside. Lie or not, that rat had succeeded in putting him off his dinner. But someone ought to teach him a lesson, given that most of the others wouldn’t be quite so relaxed in their reaction, and Arthur figured himself the perfect someone to do so.

It took a few days until the opportunity presented itself, but oh boy, it did. After a successful job, he found himself and Micah far away from camp with the sun setting, far enough that they should camp out instead of riding back. Under any other circumstance, Arthur would leave that asshole by himself, much preferring to split up than spend any more time than necessary with him. But he had been ruminating, and this seemed like the perfect time to finally teach Micah a lesson about being a prick around camp. It was clear that the simple approach of punching him in the face wasn’t working, so really, he wasn’t giving him any other option.

“We should stop here for the night,” Arthur said, his voice carefully neutral as he slowed down his horse, approaching a cabin he knew to be abandoned (he had nothing to do with that, probably). He didn’t wait for a response before sliding off his horse, hitching her outside the wooden cabin and searching his saddlebags for some dinner and liquor. God knows he would need it. As he heard Micah doing the same, he entered the cabin without looking behind him, setting his things down on a dusty table before taking in the cabin. It was dusty, sure, and had clearly been abandoned in a hurry, but it had a bed and a fireplace, which was more than plenty.

“I ain’t sharing a bed with you.” Micah had entered the cabin, closing the door behind him.

“Sure.” Arthur rolled his eyes. No less of a prick than usual then. He busied himself with starting a fire to starve off the chill of late autumn, then sat down for a dinner of dried meats and whiskey.

Perhaps Micah was sensing something, as he was suspiciously quiet while Arthur ate and drank, busying himself with polishing his guns. He did look up when Arthur set down the now-empty bottle with a decisive thunk, an eyebrow raised.

“Think you’ve been acting like a proper prick, Micah.” Arthur said, slowly rising from his seat to step closer to where Micah was perched on the edge of the bed.

“So?” The man looked amused, if anything, tucking away the cloth he was polishing his revolver with before returning it to its holster.

“So I think you need to be taught a lesson.” Arthur was quite close now, closer than he would typically get, and Micah couldn’t help but tilt his head backwards to keep watching his face.

He barked a laugh, though his face betrayed a certain amount of nervousness. “Sure, Morgan, you gonna kill me out here? Don’t think Daddy’s gonna be too happy with you.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows. “Not gonna kill you, Bell, though I would sure love to.” A slow grin began to spread across his face. “I think you need a different approach…” Before any form of understanding could cross Micah’s face, Arthur’s hand was in his dirty hair, grasping tightly, pulling his head backwards firmly. He was forcing him to look at him, to bare his neck, and he knew he was pulling more than enough to hurt. Arthur’s grin turned impossibly more smug, as the other man’s reaction was precisely what he had hoped for.

“See, so much more pliant already…” Another tug at the greasy blonde hair caused Micah’s mouth to fall open with a soft whimper. Arthur spat. A fat glob of spit landed on his lips, dribbling into his mouth. “Swallow.” Arthur’s voice was stern, and he had to work hard to suppress any reaction as Micah swallowed audibly, mouth falling open and tongue lolling out afterwards as if to show that he’d indeed swallowed.

“Undress.” The loss of pull on Micah’s hair made him whine as Arthur stepped back, leaning against the table and opening a new bottle.

“Didn’t think you for one of them inverts, Morgan.” Micah’s voice was a little shaky, and his hands flew to his shirt to begin undressing himself. Arthur chose not to respond, instead taking a drink and watching Micah’s trembling fingers, so eager to undress for him. He lit a cigarette as Micah chucked his boots across the room, shoving his jeans down roughly, revealing the lack of underwear or union suit, despite the weather getting colder.

“Been expecting something to happen, then?” Arthur smiled as Micah stood, a little awkwardly, his prick hard and flushed, jutting out absurdly.

“Fuck off.” He snarled but didn’t move away. Arthur set down his drink, stepping closer with his cigarette sat between his lips.

“Down.” He couldn’t lie, he was a little surprised at how eagerly Micah dropped to his knees, his knees hitting the rough floor hard enough for him to make a little noise. His erection didn’t seem to be bothered, though. Arthur stepped closer, throwing his cigarette into the fireplace as he brought one booted foot up to nudge at Micah’s cock.

“No wonder you’re such a pain around camp.” He pressed the tough leather against the head, admiring the angry red it had begun to turn. “Clearly haven’t gotten your little dick wet in a while…” He pushed down until Micah whimpered, his hips moving on their own accord, seeking for more stimulation. Laughing, Arthur pulled his foot away, wiping the tip of his boot on Micah’s thigh.

“Not so fast.” Arthur pushed his own suspenders over his shoulders, hands flying to the button of his own jeans. “Remember what you said the other night?” He pushed down his denims, just far enough to pull his own, soft cock out. Something about his soft cock being bigger than Micah’s achingly hard one was incredibly satisfying, and Micah certainly looked impressed as well. His eyes were a little glazed over, mouth slightly open as he stared. A stinging slap across his cheek brought Micah back a little, a soft noise escaping them as Arthur’s hand grabbed his chin firmly, forcing him to look at his face rather than his cock.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Bell.”

“I…fine, I said I pissed in the stew.” Micah groaned, rolling his eyes. He earned himself another slap from that before Arthur’s left hand tangled itself in his hair again. His right hand squeezed the base of his cock, trying to starve off its attempt at hardening before it was too late. He guided Micah forward, the other man’s mouth falling open without being directed to do so as his face neared Arthur’s groin. With a grin that would be menacing in any other circumstance, Arthur placed the tip of his cock on Micah’s tongue, who opened his mouth wider.

“If you don’t swallow it all, your beating’s gonna be much worse, boy.” Arthur’s voice was low, his hand pulling firmly at Micah’s hair as the blond groaned. He didn’t give him any more warning than that, as Arthur forced himself to relax enough. His bladder was full alright, the evening’s drinks creating an insistent pressure, making it easy to slowly start letting go. He went easy on him at first, a slow dribble of piss dripping onto Micah’s tongue, down his throat. Micah fully moaned as the taste began to unfold itself on his tongue, the smell penetrating his nose in a way that drowned out any other sensations. He swallowed eagerly, leaning forward to take the head of Arthur’s cock in his mouth as his stream increased, the hot piss filling his mouth, engulfing all his senses, warm as it went down his throat and settled in his stomach. Arthur didn’t have to look to know that Micah’s prick was still hard, leaking profusely, twitching as Arthur’s boot returned to press against it. All too soon, he felt his stream slow down, turning into a small trickle. He groaned in surprise as Micah began to suck, lips wrapped tightly around his still-soft cock, looking to drink down every last drop of piss directly from the source. Arthur let him until he felt himself begin to harden, pulling Micah away by his hair. In return, his mouth opened again, showing off that he had swallowed it all, his eyes unfocussed as he rutted against Arthur’s boot.

“Not bad. Guess I’ll have to hold back on your beating, then.” His foot vanished before Micah could gain any more pleasure, then he hauled him up by his hair, pushing him until he was bent over the table.

“Hold on. Don’t move.” Arthur grinned as Micah grabbed the opposite edge of the table, bending over and almost presenting his arse to him. He’d clearly been in this position before, no complaints leaving his mouth as Arthur lit a cigarette and retrieved his gun belt, sliding the holsters off to turn it into a piece of smooth, albeit engraved dark leather. The snap of the belt made Micah’s head turn, though he remained in his position otherwise.

“If you take your beating well, I might reward you after.” Micah whimpered, head drooping so his forehead rested against the dusty table, legs spreading slightly wider to reveal the back of his balls between his legs, drawn up tight.

“What are you being punished for?” Arthur ran his hand over Micah’s arse, the pale skin surprisingly soft and covered in fine, blond hair, giving it a firm squeeze.

“For…” Arthur’s hand grazed his crack, wandering lower as Micah struggled to find his words. “I’m being punished for…” Arthur’s thick fingers wrapped around his balls and began to squeeze. “for being an ass around camp.” His voice shot higher than he had ever heard it before, the last word turning into a long whine as Arthur squeezed. “And for trying to gross you out.” He gasped as Arthur let go, patting his arse as he readied the belt.

“Alright.” And that was all the warning Micah got before the thick leather connected with his sensitive skin, a red stripe instantly blooming on his pale arse. The leather came down again and again, painting his skin bright red as it struck his arse, his thighs, his back. When hitting the same spot twice, Micah winced, though he remained firmly in place, his cock now leaking profusely. Arthur continued, the lick of leather raising welts on the skin, making sure for the belt to catch on Micah’s balls every few strikes. Micah’s head was resting against the table as he began to squirm, noises rising steadily as his skin began to purple, bruises starting to form. A strike across his arse made his hips buck, trying to rut against the hard wooden table. Arthur let him, given that it probably hurt more than give any relief. He continued until Micah’s nails were digging into the wood and he was certain he heard muffled sobs, his entire backside littered with welts and bruises, none hard enough to break the skin but only just.

Arthur dropped the belt on the floor, the thunk failing to draw Micah’s attention. He made a split-second decision and dropped to his knees behind Micah, his body still taut and expecting another beating. Instead, he felt Arthur’s large hands on his arse, spreading his cheeks roughly. He whimpered at the sudden feeling of cool air against his hole, as well as the burn of the rough hands against the fresh bruises.

“Morgan, what…” His words were cut off before he could even properly begin speaking, Arthur’s hot tongue insistently pressing against his hole. Micah’s scent was strong as Arthur buried his face between his cheeks, licking and sucking at the tightly furled rim until it loosened enough for him to push the tip of his tongue inside. He couldn’t lie, he was inhaling deeply as he worked, intoxicated by the scent and taste of a man he hated so much.

Micah truly was a mess. He had left fingernail marks in the wood, his face was reddened and wet with tears and his own spit, truly pathetic noises beginning to spill from his lips with no resistance. His legs were trembling as Arthur held him in place, his fingers beginning to push and prod at his hole. He had to bite his tongue as two of those thick, calloused fingers slid into him, pumping in and out at a punishing pace, curling just right for the rough pads to drag across his prostate.

“Just…fuck me Morgan.” Micah’s voice sounded entirely different than it usually did, high-pitched and breaking, the words coming out pleading and desperate. Arthur didn’t respond, pulling out his fingers unceremoniously and wiping them on Micah’s thigh. The other man squirmed as all touch disappeared for a moment, but stayed draped over the table, though it might have been due to the inability to move, his legs feeling entirely useless as they trembled. He jerked as Arthur’s fingers returned, now covered in cool grease, pushing into him roughly before retreating. Then, he felt Arthur’s cock pressing against his hole, impossibly hot after the chilled grease.

“Ready?” Arthur asked, more out of habit than actually caring. Micah only nodded, a moan that sounded suspiciously like a sob wrenched from him as Arthur began to push in, marvelling at the way Micah’s hole was stretching around him, positively sucking him in. He was hot and tight, forcing Arthur to pause for a breather once he was fully settled, his hips pressing against the angry, bruised skin of his arse. Once he had collected himself, he pulled back, starting to fuck him at a brutal pace. His hands were gripping his hips, hard enough to add more bruises to the already tender skin. Micah seemingly had lost all ability to think, all words having left him and being replaced by nothing but pitiful noises. His cock was dripping so much it looked as if he was slowly pissing himself, smearing onto the table and his own, soft belly. Arthur ran his fingers through it, scooping some precum up to rub it onto Micah’s arse, warm against the already stinging skin. Micah’s knees buckled as he desperately grabbed onto the table, unable to hold himself up for another second. Arthur caught him before he could properly fall, turning him with a quick movement to lay him on the table, a loud moan slipping from him as his back and arse made contact with the unyielding wood.

Arthur did not allow him a moment to catch his breath, pulling him forward until his arse barely rested on the edge of the table, then drove into him with increased force, throwing his legs up onto his shoulders. Micah was effectively bent in half, eyes rolling in his head, his mouth open as he moaned, squirming as his cock kept leaking onto his round stomach. His back arched as Arthur’s hand dipped into the puddle again, spreading it around and massaging it into his stomach, leaving it sticky and shiny. Micah’s eyes shot open, refocussing momentarily at this almost tender gesture. It didn’t last long though, as Arthur moved his still sticky hand upwards, snugly fitting itself around Micah’s throat. His eyes closed as he tightened his grip, and his entire body went rigid as he began to cum, spilling thick white ropes onto his glistening stomach and up onto his soft chest. The noises he was making were truly pathetic, causing Arthur to fuck into him faster, trying to draw as many of them out of him as possible. He loosened his grip on Micah’s throat as he began to relax, a light dribble leaking from his cock, fucking into him brutally, chasing his own orgasm. Micah couldn’t do anything but whine and lay there, letting Arthur use him like a toy. It didn’t take long for Arthur to cum, between the impossibly tight heat of Micah’s hole and the noises he was making. He came with a grunt, Micah moaning softly as he felt the hot liquid flood his hole. He pulled out just before he was done, shooting the last few spurts over Micah’s cock, adding to the mess on his skin.

Arthur didn’t bother tucking his cock away before he sunk down on the bed, lighting a cigarette as he surveyed Micah, who was trying to sit up on the table, wobbling and looking entirely fucked out.

“Feel different about the bed sharing now?” Arthur grinned before getting up to help Micah off the table, half-carrying him as he mumbled something probably meant to be insulting.