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“Hold still.”
“D’ya even know what yer doin’?”
“Believe it or not, this ain’t my first time...”
And it wouldn’t be Arthur’s last either… Removing a bullet, that was, of course. What else? That was what he was currently doing, though he wasn’t operating on himself for a change, but somebody else.
After they’d fled Strawberry together, pursued by the law that had chased them out of town for shooting up the place, Micah had gone and gotten himself shot during the commotion. It had happened while on horseback and, after several more minutes of chasing and gunfire, they had finally managed to lose the remaining men on their tails once they’d entered the woods and had traveled deep enough. Even after getting shot in the arm, Micah had still managed to hold onto his precious pistols, the reason that they’d gotten into this mess in the first place.
The wound could’ve been worse but after they’d found a small clearing with clusters of trees nestled around them, they had each dismounted and tethered their horses to address the immediate problem. Arthur could think of a thousand other things he’d rather be doing and helping Micah again didn’t even make the list. But here they were. He wasn’t about to save the man from a jail cell only to have him bleed out an hour later. Not that it bothered Arthur all that much, but he had a feeling that Dutch might have something to say about it…
So they’d settled down on a fallen tree trunk and Micah removed his shirt so that they could get a better look at what they were dealing with. Arthur arranged a few supplies on a tree stump beside them that he kept inside his satchel in case of emergencies. And anything involving Micah, usually resulted in emergencies. Someone dead or shot, and unfortunately in this case it was the latter. The oil lantern that he had on his horse came in handy too, which he’d used to heat the tip of his knife.
“Could’a fooled me, Morgan, y’could at least try bein’ gentle.” Micah said through gritted teeth while Arthur had been inspecting the bloodied hole on the other man’s upper arm. Upon closer examination, a fragment of the bullet had lodged itself into the flesh. Though it didn’t look too deep. As previously mentioned, Arthur had in fact done this before, but he was no medic nor a professional… A doctor would be preferable but that wasn’t an option when the closest town would be looking to add more bullets to their bodies rather than removing them. So they would have to make do.
“I am bein’ gentle. You could try not gettin’ shot…” Arthur grumbled as he reached for a bottle of whiskey and poured a decent measure over the injured area to sterilise it.
“Motherfucker.” Micah hissed when the alcohol caused the fresh wound to sting angrily, his hand gripping so tightly onto the bark of the tree that he probably gave himself splinters in the process. “Give a fella some warnin’ before y’piss all over him.”
Arthur blinked. Sometimes it was best not to question some of the things that came out of Micah’s mouth. “D’you want ma help or don’t ya?” He asked after a short, bemused pause.
When no verbal response came aside from an aggravated huff, and Micah only shifted his weight but otherwise remained sat, Arthur took that as confirmation enough to continue. Technically Micah could do this himself. But the angle would be awkward to work with and he wouldn’t be able to see what he was doing… This was the better option. Arthur couldn’t help but wonder, if their roles were reversed, if Micah would do the same for him…
After Arthur coated the blade of his knife with the amber liquor, he noticed the way that Micah squirmed in the corner of his eye. His body was tense. He was nervous, bracing himself for the inevitable pain. Understandably. Arthur couldn’t deny just the tiniest amount of sympathy.
Arthur cleared his throat before speaking. “Relax yer arm, it’ll hurt a lot less if ya-”
“Y’don’t gotta mollycoddle me, jus’ get on with it.” Came Micah’s sharp reply.
Well. Clearly Arthur’s warm words of encouragement and useful advice weren’t welcome so he did as instructed and ‘just got on with it’. He positioned the tip of the blade accordingly and slowly, carefully edged it forward.
Micah sucked in the air through his teeth, hissing through the pain and willing himself to stay still. It would only make things worse and hurt tenfold if he started to thrash around like a wild animal.
“M’ bein’ as gentle as a’can…” Arthur assured him as a quiet reminder, voice soft, with his gaze fixed on the task at hand, easing towards the glistening chunk of metal wedged into Micah’s arm.
“I jus’ feel sorry f’that woman a’yours if this is what y’call gentle…”
Right.
Was he serious right now?
Arthur sunk his hunting knife in a little deeper than necessary.
“Argh fuck me!” Micah growled and Arthur couldn’t deny that it had felt good. But what the fuck was his problem? Arthur was trying to help him and Micah was being- well, Micah. He shouldn’t have expected anything less, he supposed. But being the bigger man here, and to avoid an argument during a time like this, he took a slightly different approach. If you can’t beat them then join them, right?
If he let Micah get to him, and under his skin as he so often - and so effortlessly- did, then Arthur would be walking away and leaving the knife lodged in his arm as a gesture of fuck you. Maybe that’s what Micah wanted, so he could go back to Dutch and manipulate this situation into his favour. That Arthur had left him to bleed out in the woods. That Arthur was the bad guy in all of this. He wouldn’t put it past Micah… But he wasn’t going to do that, he wasn’t going to let Micah win and give the man the, no doubt, sweet satisfaction. He just had to get on with this, deal with him, and then they could both go their separate ways. Besides, perhaps unbeknownst to Micah, Arthur had it in him to be a pain in the ass too… He could fight fire with fire.
“Whoops sorry, ma hand slipped…” Arthur claimed innocently and just about resisted the urge to smirk.
Micah hummed with his jaw clenched. “Real funny.”
“A’thought so too.” He answered, only a little bit smug.
Arthur continued to work while Micah grunted and hissed when the blade occasionally grazed against a bundle of nerve endings. But it was working, slowly but surely, he was steadily drawing the bullet out with careful and precise movements.
Micah had taken the liberty of making use of the remaining whiskey, using his free hand not currently grasping onto the tree trunk below to grip the neck of the bottle. He’d taken a few medicinal swigs, his breathing heavier and laboured between each drink. His Adam’s apple bobbed with each swallow, downing damn near half the bottle. Micah was so damn noisy… He was practically panting with his torso painted in a thin sheen of sweat, and even the hairs on his chest and stomach curled from the heat and moisture of-
His gaze snapped back to Micah’s arm, what he was supposed to be focusing on and not what was happening around it. Fuck… Was it so wrong of Arthur to be enjoying Micah’s pain just a little bit? He never usually got a kick out of others being in pain, but apparently if that person was Micah, then Arthur lapped it up. Every last little grunt and sighing breaths.
The tone of his next words were silky smooth, despite having a knife still wedged into his arm. Even if it was just the tip. “You’re a sick man, Arthur…” Was Micah’s response, “bet y’gettin’ off on this, ain’t ya?”
Shit.
Well.
Erm.
Arthur quickly changed the subject, because he was secretly afraid that he might just actually be getting off on this. “Would y’have preferred me t’sit here an’ watch while you make a damn mess of y’self instead?”
“A’reckon you might’ve preferred it…” Micah chuckled around the opening of the bottle, lips bumping against the glass before tilting it back with the intention of emptying the contents of it down his throat before Arthur snatched the bottle away. Micah was just teasing him, Arthur knew that, there was no way that he could know just how much he was enjoying this. This was a new, slightly concerning discovery for Arthur, that only exclusively extended to Micah. They both hated each other so perhaps it shouldn’t be all that surprising to find pleasure out of each other’s pain.
“A’still need that.” Arthur reminded him, setting the bottle down on the tree stump beside him and away from Micah’s reach who made an irritated noise in response. “If y’don’t let me focus then I’ll make a damn mess of ya m’self.” Arthur reminded Micah before quickly adding in afterthought, “your arm.” As if the clarification had been needed. Ugh. God damn fool.
Micah smirked, knowingly. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, sweetheart.” He never had been one for subtleties and certainly not when he’d made his mind up about something, that was it. And now that he’d discovered a darker side to Arthur that he liked, he wasn’t about to let it go anytime soon. Especially when pointing it out only made Arthur flap and fluster.
But Arthur had grown tired of the other man’s snark, of him always managing to come out on top. “You really don’t want me t’fuck this up… Keep runnin’ y’mouth an’ a’just might.”
The reminder of the reality of their situation seemed to spark some sense into Micah, albeit temporarily and the mask appeared to slip. “Jus’… G- go easy, cowboy.” He murmured.
“Y’know, there might be a magic word that would help me t’go easy…” Arthur trailed off expectantly.
“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me…” Micah mumbled flatly as his cold blue eyes flickered over to Arthur, who returned his gaze and held the eye contact while he delicately twisted the knife just an inch. “Mmmmph- Ugh, fine fine. Please god dammit.”
Arthur smiled, almost sweetly. “Good. See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“No, but a’bet you are…” Micah muttered under his breath.
His smile dropped. Alright, enough was enough…
“Don’t move.” Arthur commanded while he concentrated on positioning the tip of the blade exactly where he needed it to be to extract it now that he’d managed to coax it away from settling into the muscles of the other man’s arm.
“What? Nghhh…” Micah trailed off when Arthur prized the knife back in.
It only took another couple of seconds for the bullet to be drawn out, a fresh trickle of blood oozing from the wound when the chunk of metal fell with a thud to the ground. Finally. “Okay, it’s out.”
“Y’got it all?”
“Yup.”
“…Y’sure?”
He huffed an annoyed sigh while reaching for the bottle of whiskey he’d confiscated from Micah earlier on. Fuck Micah. Arthur needed it. “Yes, m’sure. Unless you’d like me t’have a poke around in there f’the fun of it.” He waggled the knife in his other hand a small circle as he spoke.
It had been an obvious joke, but the look on Micah’s face appeared as though he might’ve been considering it. Arthur had to be imagining that though, right? But without too much hesitation, Micah eventually peered down at the floor and gave the old bloodied bullet a small nudge with his boot. “Huh… Is that it? Felt a whole lot bigger than that while it was all up in there.”
Arthur had chosen that exact moment to take a swig of the liquor himself before he nearly choked on it. “You’ve err-” he spluttered and then coughed lightly before setting the knife back down amongst his other tools, considering using the knife to slice the steadily building tension in the atmosphere. “You’ve had bigger than that then, ‘all up in there’?” He couldn’t resist having some fun of his own, especially when Micah seemed completely oblivious.
Micah quirked an eyebrow, a serious expression plastered over his face. “You haven’t?”
Arthur scoffed. “Not- uhh not really…” he stammered and turned his attention back to the remaining supplies to his side, to concentrate on what he was doing, instead of whatever the hell this conversation was turning into. Even if Arthur had bought this on himself. Perhaps a small part of him had wanted to test Micah, to push the boundaries and explore those limits. Neither of which Micah seemed to possess.
“Well that’s jus’ ‘cause I’m more of a man than you are, cowpoke.” Micah said and barely even flinched this time when Arthur let the alcohol spill over the wound once more. But when Arthur turned away, to place the almost empty bottle back down and look back to his equipment, a flash of amusement had flickered across Micah’s face. Of course, it had all been an act… There wasn’t a single shred of innocence inside that man.
“Whatever you say.” Arthur shook his head and reached over to assemble a makeshift bandage to cover the wound. “Hold.” Arthur instructed, placing a small but thick patch of material over the injury and waited until Micah raised his other hand to hold it instead, fingertips just barely brushing against the other man’s own before they separated. “This might hurt…” ‘Might’ being an understatement.
Micah gave a soft chuckle. “Don’t you worry yer pretty lil’ head, a’can take it.”
“Sure, once you’ve finished moanin’ about it, that is.” Arthur teased faintly while he took another piece of fabric to wrap around the bandage to secure it around his arm.
“A’bet y’wouldn’t mind hearin’ that…”
“Will you shut up?”
Micah grinned. “Never.”
Although Micah did, in fact, shut up. At least for a short time. Arthur didn’t look at him again while he worked, despite being able to feel the man’s eyes on him this time. Not on his hands, on what he was busy doing and what they should be focusing on, but instead on Arthur’s face. But he stubbornly didn’t even cast Micah a single glance. Despite the swift change in atmosphere, the thickness of the air, Arthur maintained his composure even with his rapidly racing heart and beads of sweat gracing his hairline. Micah continued to make infuriatingly distracting noises, like gentle hisses and soft sighs. It had been in pain, he reminded himself, not pleasure. By the time that Arthur had finished, pulling the ends of the rag tight and tying it around the bandage to secure it in place, the frustration had only grown on Arthur’s part. Ridiculously so. “All done… Y’can thank me later.” He grumbled as soon as he’d finished.
“Or how ‘bout a’thank y’now? While we’re both in the mood.”
Arthur hesitated. “In the mood f’what?”
Micah rolled his eyes. “Y’always this goddamn dense, Morgan? No wonder y’couldn’t keep dear old Mary sweet on ya…”
“You mention her name again an’ you’ll be gettin’ a bullet in the other arm.”
“It ain’t a bullet a’want inside me, sweetheart…”
Oh. Well. Fuck.
Arthur knew that he should be long gone by now. He’d done his part, had patched Micah up, and should be on his merry way. Only he didn’t move - couldn’t move - and judging by the look on Micah’s face, they both knew that Arthur wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
But even despite that, Arthur still carried on. “What makes you think a’wanna put anythin’ else inside a’you?”
“Just a feelin’ a’got…” Micah grinned, ear to ear, when he raised his thigh to gently press it between Arthur’s legs. Arthur was hard, interested at the very least, and Micah could feel it through his trousers. “Jus’ like a gotta feelin’ that yer not quite as innocent as ya claim…”
Even just the barest touch, not even skin on skin, caused a pleasured warmth to bloom. Arthur was starved of contact, especially contact of this nature. The touch was something that he craved, and now that he’d had just the briefest taste, he needed more. “I- A’never claimed t’be anythin’ of the sort…” Arthur wasn’t naive, far from it, but he was humble.
“Then why don’t y’show me…” It hadn’t been phrased as a question or even a suggestion, because Micah already knew the answer when he saw the gleam in Arthur’s eye darken.
Fuck.
He was like a coiled spring, wound so tight that he was about ready to snap from Micah’s constant needling. Maybe he expected Arthur to just pack up his things and leave now that they were done here. Maybe that’s what should’ve happened… But when their gaze met and Micah, still wearing that shit-eating grin on his stupid face, slowly lifted a hand with the intent of caressing one of Arthur’s cheek in mocked affection, Arthur halted that course of action by taking hold of the other man’s wrist. He used it as leverage to flip Micah around, pushing him down onto his front over the tree stump. It wasn’t going to be the most comfortable but comfort wasn’t something that either man was too preoccupied with right now.
“Took ya long enough…” Micah had the audacity to murmur, attempting to prop his torso up against the wood with his good arm before Arthur was shoving him back down again harshly with a strong hand rested in the middle of his bare back.
“Shut up.” Arthur muttered gruffly, keeping one firm hand planted there while he used the other to fiddle with his belt buckle. It rattled with how hurriedly his fingers were working on unbuckling it. To his surprise Micah actually listened, at least for the first minute or so, while Arthur worked at freeing his dick from the confines of his trousers.
“Been a while, ain’t it?” Micah goaded, only riling Arthur up with the endless taunting, though that had always been the intention. “Y’even remember what t’do?”
Arthur had never done this, specifically. They had certainly never done this. He knew that Micah hadn’t been referring to either of those things, so he was right. It has been a while… Too long, clearly. Too long that he was now working off the other man’s trousers too with a desperate urgency. Though only just enough, to get at what he needed to.
In no less than a minute, Arthur was pressing two spit-slicked fingers into Micah while the other bloodied hand remained splayed against the man’s back leaving behind dried fingerprints that would be difficult to wash off. Micah groaned low and deep in his throat, the noises escalating into almost animalistic sounds as he clutched tighter onto the tree stump that Arthur had him bent over.
Using saliva was a piss poor lubricant - naturally - but given what Micah had just been through, Arthur knew he could handle this. After all, what was inflicting just a little more pain? He knew Micah wouldn’t care. Only Arthur did mind, slightly… Looking across to his side, he eyed the rapidly cooling oil lantern, reluctantly retracting his fingers from the inviting warmth. Huh. Better than nothing…
Micah heaved a sharp intake of breath, hissing at the sudden loss. “What t’hell are you-”
“Not another word.” Unless you want me t’stop. Was an unnecessary sentence that went unspoken. It had been clear from Arthur’s gravelly tone what the consequences would be.
Micah, for once in his life, fell silent. Remarkable really. And he continued to stay quiet until the newly oil-slicked plump head of Arthur’s cock bumped up against his hole and he emitted a breathy moan. That little sound was enough to stop Arthur from immediately ramming home. He wanted to hear more of that, a softer and gentler version of Micah that Arthur doubted that anyone had ever had the luxury of witnessing. And for whatever reason, that thought alone was enough to force himself to slow down, just a little…
For Micah it was the opposite… He revelled in experiencing a rougher, meaner side to Arthur that apparently really got the man going… Arthur would let him have it, eventually, right after he’d had a bit of selfish fun for himself.
“C’mon…” Micah practically whined, words barely audible as he spoke through his teeth, struggling to move at all with the heavy weight above him effectively keeping him still. His voice sounded different. Strained, of course, but there was an edge of desperation to his voice and - dare he say - neediness… It was more than enough for Arthur to finally give the man what he wanted. What they both wanted…
Arthur willingly relented and pressed inside, groaning at the feeling of his dick being hugged by an impossibly tight heat. Micah had groaned too, low and guttural in his throat, as his body fought to adjust to the intrusion. He’d barely opened Micah up and knew the man needed more time, but Arthur’s patience had dried up. He pulled back slightly, only to ram forward again, drawing another delicious sound from Micah’s lips. The hand on the other man’s back pushed down hard while the other grasped onto the meaty flesh of his hip, fingertips gripping firmly enough to leave bruises.
He set up an unforgiving pace, giving Micah next to no time to get used to the sensation, fucking into the man and determined to coax every last pained and pleasured sound out of him.
“That- all- y’got…?” Micah growled the words through gritted teeth, causing Arthur’s jaw to clench.
Right.
Arthur gave the man what he wanted, he snapped his hips forward harshly, again and again until Micah was choking on the moans that escaped him with every brutal thrust. He wasn’t able to keep this up even if he tried, and he wasn’t capable of restraining himself either. Micah was warm and wet and tight and Arthur had already lost the rapidly encroaching battle after it had barely even begun. He was already tantalisingly close.
A long series of expletives left Arthur as he neared his climax, quickening his gruelling pace until he lost it, driving his cock so deeply inside Micah’s ass that he hoped the man would be able to feel it for the next week.
Micah could only cling onto the tree stump that he was currently being fucked against, holding on for leverage, keeping him at a convenient angle for the other man to brush repeatedly - and gloriously - over his prostate. Fingernails digging into bark, Micah clenched around the dick inside him and came without a single touch to his own cock. “Arthur…”
“Fuuuck.” Arthur moaned as he toppled over the edge, hands and fingers holding impossibly tighter, spilling inside Micah and not allowing the man to move under his weight until he’d ridden out the high. Hearing Micah murmur his name so softly, so breathily, had more of an effect on him that he was readily to admit, or address. It took Arthur a moment to come back to his senses after the intensity of his orgasm.
The silence was warm and welcomed, the heavy atmosphere that weighed them down before had eased while Arthur steadied his previously laboured breathing. His chest rose and fell slowly, watching as Micah’s back seemed to mirror that action in sync. Only when Micah groaned, his discomfort evident, Arthur pulled out and tucked himself back into his trousers. After seeing his come dribble down Micah’s inner thigh, he pushed aside the reaction when he twitched weakly inside the confines of his clothes. He reached for Micah’s shirt, using it to wipe the oil and blood from his hands before dropping it in the other man’s reach.
It took Micah a short while to move but by the time he did and he straightened back up, his hands hand found their way to his pants, working them up again. It can’t have been comfortable for Micah, not that it mattered to Arthur.
“How-” Arthur started slowly, his voice a little gruffer than usual until he cleared his throat before continuing, “how’s your arm?” He asked, feigning a nonchalant tone while he fastened his belt.
An unreadable expression appeared on Micah’s face at the question which then settled in poorly concealed amusement. They weren’t in the habit of sharing their feelings, but they also weren’t in the habit of doing what they just had either... “Fine.” He returned with a quirk of an eyebrow after he’d fixed his clothing. For lack of a better option. He adjusted his newly soiled trousers before sliding back into his spoiled shirt, not bothering to button it. Micah looked positively ruined.
It wasn’t as though Arthur actually cared. It had just been- curiosity. Yeah, that. Exactly. Just because they’d fucked, a spur of the moment thing, it didn’t mean that Arthur suddenly gave a shit about Micah. Even if it had been the best sex he’d ever had, that meant nothing. It didn’t change anything. Right? A short moment of silence lingered and then passed before Arthur moved the conversation along, because he had to before he entertained that dangerous train of thought anymore. “This never happened.”
“Mhm suuure, cowpoke, never happened…” Micah gave him a crooked smile. “But y’know, if it had, can’t say I’d change a thing…”