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It was a luxury to him, sleeping on his very own pillow, in his very own tent. Arthur was on the road more often than not, running one errand or another, constantly on his heels because of Dutch; because of the gang.
Sure, he had no problem working a little more than everyone else, seeing as they were just getting back onto their legs. After hiding up in the mountains, they had barely settled themselves in a place called Horseshoe Overlook, a quiet area surrounded by forest in close proximity to the town of Valentine.
He was one of the more capable members at camp, Dutch's trusted enforcer, his work-horse more or less. But sometimes one had prizes to pay to be validated between everyone else; and if his prize were merely sleepless nights spent riding, he wouldn't complain.
A pillow felt nice, nonetheless. Just from time to time, on nights like these that had been preceded by harsh and tiring days.
Arthur had stayed around the campfire for a little longer than sun-down, basking in the warmth rather than the conversation, chatter not doing much for him most days. He preferred staying in his own mind, preferred staying out of conflicts even more.
People were a lot of added stress. Little of which he actually needed.
He was "blessed" by falling asleep right away, without the help of any of Miss. Grimshaw's special teas, or Hosea's potions that smelled more like poison. Arthur knew them all, plagued by sleeping troubles since childhood, though those had lessened the older he grew. And now, his eyes fell closed the moment his head hit the pillow, thoughts drifting away as he was carried off and into his dreams.
-
Lamplight pierced him through closed eyelids, a light groan surfacing from his throat as he blinked them open in disdain. He didn't remember moving onto his stomach, nor did he remember to fall asleep in a hotel room, but with his surroundings being hazy, he wasn't sure how real any of this was.
It might just be a vividly realistic dream, the kind he's never come to experience before.
Arthur twisted in his position, finding himself unable to, another irritated sound working it's way from his lips. He couldn't move his arms, the both of them tightly tied behind his back, his jaw aching from something stuck between his teeth. It was cold and metal, hard and unpleasant - a fucking bit.
His struggle increased for a hot minute or so, eyes darting from left to right as he tried to squirm out of this set-up, jerking his head in an attempt to loosen the gag at least.
It was with a firm hand pressing down on his shoulder that he stopped all at once, head turning to fixate his captor with his stare.
But when he met his eyes, he only stared at himself.
It was his face, his hairstyle - hell, he was even wearing his clothes, but judging by the glint in the man's eyes, there was something inherently different about the both of them. Arthur could feel the darkness lurking beneath the other's deep blue stare, his skin crawling at the contact between their eyes.
-
There was a hand in his hair, pushing his head down and into the pillow, the sensation of someone's body covering his own. He growled, groaned, sounds falling from his lips unprompted, brought on by nothing but the feelings he imagined. There was no pretending it didn't feel good, two slick fingers pistoning in and out of his ass, hot breaths hitting his ear as his own voice whispered the dirtiest of things to him.
"Look'it'chu, little prized pony." He pulled on the reins attached to the bit, Arthur's head lifting off the pillow to bare his neck, lips latching onto the stretch of bare skin. "I know you need'a be ridden hard," he chuckled, dark like the tone of his voice. "Know you keep waitin' for someone to take the reins." He snapped them, leather straps hitting Arthur's shoulders, though it wasn't painful. The sensation rather sent another jolt of arousal straight to his cock - to his cock that was hard and leaking right where it pressed into the mattress.
Arthur groaned deeply, slowly succumbing to the overwhelming pleasure he couldn't describe, never having felt anything move within himself to begin with.
The fingers disappeared too soon for his liking, an embarrassing and whiny noise leaving his lips. He pushed his ass out further, shamelessly presenting himself to -- himself, earning an appreciative smack to his rear.
"I'll make you wilt, lil' wildflower," he grumbled, getting to his knees behind Arthur, his body still draped above the other's. They were just the same, toned muscle and softer flesh, though the body on top of his felt stronger, more unforgiving; especially once he started sliding his cock into Arthur's hole, gradually stretching him open.
There was no pain, no discomfort, only indescribable pleasure shooting through his veins. His cries wavered and rose in volume, body shuddering as the other started to pound down into him.
It didn't take long for him, didn't need more than a couple deep strokes, a couple flicks of a wrist upon his cock. He knew himself best after all, driving his body over the edge with a resounding scream, stars exploding behind his eyes and plunging his vision into darkness.
-
When Arthur came to, the sun had risen upon a clear morning sky. He could hear the birds chirping in the trees, the sound drowned out by his heart beating in his ears, his breaths ringing out sharp and rapid.
Arthur barely needed to glance down his own body, feeling the stickiness of his briefs before he saw the treacherous dark spot, swallowing at the realization that he had come in his pants like a teenager. And all that for a dream involving himself.
Maybe he needed to properly get his rocks off eventually.