Chapter Text
A couple of days had past since the little group had started to move out of the mountains that Rabbit had called home. Leaving those snow capped peaks had been traumatic enough, but it wasn't as if she had much of a choice. The two outlaws that had claimed her for their own were dead set on the fact that she was coming with them, either willingly or hogtied to a horse if it came to it.
The fact that they genuinely seemed to care for her, strange as it was, only added salt to the fire of her predicament. They treated her kindly for the most part, not like the captive she technically was. After that first night in the cabin, the watch even felt like it was set for safety, instead of making sure she didn't escape, and they were almost downright gentlemanly until night fell.
Each night however, one of them would share her bedroll, the other either standing at the far end of camp or watching from across the fire. They never physically forced or held her down again, but eventually she just gave in under the onslaught of stress and exhaustion, desperate to feel the adoration that bled through every touch they gave. She had never heard of a relationship like this, but he two men seemed at ease with one another, fitting into roles that she was only just starting to understand.
When Arthur looked at her with heat in his eyes, she knew it would be a long, drawn out night. He was dominant, demanding obedience. Oddly enough though, he was patient with her as well, far more patient than he was with John.
And John, well, liked to be sweet. He burned all day long like a firecracker, roughness only reeled in by Arthur's tightly leashed control. When he was with Rabbit, however, all that wildness melted away.
That was something else that was difficult, learning to answer to Rabbit. It was her name now, like it or not. The first day, John had questioned her while they were saddling the horses, the realization that he didn't know her name seeming to cross a personal boundary he had. However, when she had just shrugged and answered Rabbit, he had grown angry and persisted.
Arthur had watched them from atop his horse, hands folded over his saddle pommel, as they bickered like children. When he had grown tired of listening to the argument going round and round, he finally broke in and told Marston to 'leave the poor rabbit the hell alone'. So, she stayed Rabbit.
This journey would be easier if she weren't exhausted all the damn time, or even knew where they were headed. The nightly parlays with a man were not helping the fact that she often found herself drooping in the saddle, but there was no slowing down or rest stops. One of the men, usually Arthur, would simply ride up next to her and pluck her from the saddle, depositing her in front of him at any sign of weariness. John didn't notice things like that as quickly, it seemed, and it was often the older cowboy that barked a reminder at him.
The strangest thing however, discounting multiple lovers and being abducted, was the fact that for the first time in her short life she actually felt safe and wanted. You would think being set upon would have reduced her to tears or jitters, but on the contrary it was almost easy to forget how she had met them. Her body never would, but it had a mind of its own whenever they were around and she chalked it up to muscle memory.
However, unlike her the men were definitely on edge, on the run for something or someone, and her excellent eavesdropping abilities often came in handy when they thought she was sleeping.
"Sadie and Charles meetin us at Horseshoe Overlook?"
"Figured it was safe," Arthur spoke around a cigarette, the smoke looping up into the sky, "if they got away from Beaver Hollow clean, that is."
From the bedroll where she was pretending to be asleep, curled up under a boar hide blanket that Arthur had dropped on top of her a little while ago, she watched the lit end of the cigarette glow and the smoke trail off. They were standing at the edge of the campfire, John with his rifle and Arthur without his shirt. It was funny, John being on guard. If anything was near, it had most likely been chased off by the screams Arthur had pulled from her earlier.
Her body twitched a reminder, but she fought down the moan that bubbled up her throat, trying to concentrate on what else they were saying.
"This is a goddamn nightmare, Arthur. Escapin' the shit show Micah and Dutch brought on themselves is one thing, but this feels like we're runnin' away from our family too."
"The women went with Abigail, I made sure," Arthur pulled the cigarette out and blew the smoke upwards. "Bill and Javier went south. I offered, they refused." He didn't sound too happy about that. "This whole business got it where no one trusts no one. If we hadn't gotten outa there, we'd be swinging on the end of a rope."
Silence for a moment, John running a hand along the barrel of the rifle, tracing the grooves. "At least the women got out."
"Abigail weren't right for you," it was soft, the softest she had ever heard Arthur speak to John. Her head tilted to better see them, and then snapped shut when the movement drew Arthur's eyes, peeking again after a moment to see he had turned back to John. "At least some good came out of having to run."
John's laugh was a rasp. "Bill did warn me yous gettin soft in your old age."
"Bill is a goddamn idiot. Think I'm soft," Arthur's voice turned hard again, tone practically biting as he gestured towards Rabbit. "Think what we did to her was soft?"
The firelight flickered on John's face as he grimaced. "Could've done a lot worse."
"Ain't quite sure of that, and it ain't like we've stopped." His cigarette was squashed beneath his foot, and another promptly pulled out.
John didn't answer, just stood in silence as Arthur decimated another cigarette. Rabbit shivered as a cool breeze hit the back of her neck, and snapped her eyes shut again as both mens' eyes slid over this time.
"We'll need to pick up some new clothes tomorrow in town, heavier stuff for when we cross the mountains."
John's voice followed, "might as well stay in the hotel tomorrow, take a bath maybe. She's still got mud on her from Amberino."
What? Rabbit snuck a glance down her body, looking for the offending mud.
Arthur's chuckle was surprisingly loud. "Do yourself a favor, Marston, don't go telling her that." He threw down the second cigarette. "She already shakes like a leaf every time we look at her."
There was the snort of derision from John, followed by the sound of the rifle being passed over.
"I'll take watch, you go keep her warm."
"She'd warm up to ya quicker if you gave her half the attention you to your horse, instead of ignoring her after you fuck her."
Her eyes snapped open at John's words, mouth popping open in surprise that he would even say something like that, even if it was true. Outside of sharing her bed, Arthur had kept his distance and his touching to a minimum after the first night in the cabin. Which was the exact opposite of John, no surprise there.
Rabbit had seen the way Arthur spoke and cared for his horse, and silently to agreed with John, even if he was an idiot.
Apparently Arthur was giving John one of those 'shut up' looks, the kind that make even her want to go crawl in a hole out of sympathy for the man, because John was suddenly at her side, shimmying under the boar rug. She faked limp, hoping he would still think she was asleep. John was either oblivious, or didn't care enough to call her on it this time.
He slipped an arm around her waist, rolling her closer, before his head dropped back. Within seconds he was snoring gently through his nose.
Rabbit rolled her eyes, before she elbowed him and rolled away, causing his snoring to hitch. No way she was gonna get a good night's sleep now.
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She wasn't surprised the next morning to see Arthur splayed out on the other side of the fire, hat tipped low over his face to block his features. The sun was just tipping its nose over the horizon, painting everything in a soft yellow haze. It hit her eyes, causing her to raise an arm and grumble as she sat up, stretching the sleep away.
John was sitting by the fire, hair a raggedy mess, stirring the coals with a stick so it was hot enough to cook. "G'mornin." He waited until Rabbit opened her eyes, peering over at him, before he held out Arthur's tin cup.
Rabbit returned his greeting and took the cup, sipping it cautiously. John's idea of coffee was vastly different than her own, but she managed to swallow the sip she had tried under his watchful gaze.
His eyes trailed downwards to her naked torso, and Rabbit paused, watching him curiously.
"You got bruises."
He didn't sound pleased, and Rabbit glanced down. There was a perfect handprint turning yellow and green on the left side of her rib cage, and the opposite hip had a match. Why he hadn't commented on the dozen or so love bites that marred her breasts and hips was strange, but then again they didn't ache like the handprints were starting to. When she prodded one, the ache flared up sharply.
"Ow."
John huffed, "really? Ow?" He unbuttoned his wrinkled shirt and quickly passed it over. "Here, put this on, fore Arthur wakes up."
She slipped it over her shoulders, but made no move to button it. "Why? Just bruises."
"Just put it on." John reached over and impatiently started to button it, and Rabbit made a sound of displeasure as she was jerked forward.
"Marston, what the hell you doin?"
They both turned their heads at Arthur's voice. He hoisted himself into a sitting position, fingers rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Instead of answering, John finished buttoning the shirt and retreated back to his original spot. "Mornin."
Arthur grunted a reply, and then looked up in surprise when Rabbit held out his tin cup. He took it, raising it in her direction before taking a sip, which he promptly spat out.
Rabbit fought a grin as he groused. "This is disgustin, John."
As they bickered over the new camp rule that declared John was no longer allowed to make coffee ever, Rabbit fiddled with her hands, wondering how to bring up the conversation she wanted to have. It wasn't until Arthur placed a hand on her wrist, thumb smoothing over the skin, that she realized she had zoned out.
She blinked up at him, hand unconsciously moving away. "Yes, sir?"
She hadn't had a lot of opportunities to actually speak to him, and the honorific still felt a little weird when directed at him. What she was not expecting however, was the color that stole across his cheeks. John threw his head back and barked a laugh at his apparent embarrassment.
She glanced in between them, growing nervous, but Arthur only shook his head. "You don't have to call me that."
"But-"
"Amorous Congress aside, Arthur'll do." His words caused John to turn away, hand lifting to cover his mouth, but the older cowboy just closed his eyes and inhaled deeply at the younger man's actions.
Rabbit's face heated up, and she nodded, returning her attention to her hands.
"Something bothering you, Bunny?" John swirled his cup as he eyed her, lifting it to take a sip.
Rabbit stared at him a moment, swallowed, and then dipped her eyes to the fire before blurting out: "are you gonna share me once we get to Horseshoe Overlook?"
John violently spat out the coffee, spraying it into the fire.
Rabbit flicked a glance towards Arthur, and got caught in his guarded stare.
"You wanna be shared?"
She shook her head violently, and Arthur nodded like it was settled. "Then you won't be. We told you, Rabbit, we'll take care of you."
"I'm your prisoner." She kept her eyes on Arthur, watching as he pursed his lips.
John answered, "no, you're not." At her incredulous look, he continued. "We're wanted men, Rabbit. You go off into the sunset, and the Pinketons find out you were with us? They'll string you up faster than you could tell 'em where we went."
"I wouldn't..." She gripped her hands tight, staring at her knuckles. "I ain't a snitch."
"No one usually is, until they've been tortured." Arthur's words were slow, and she raised her eyes to find them both looking at her. "If we did let you go, where'd you go?"
At her silence, Arthur pressed on. "We ain't good men, Rabbit, but we're honest. Just gotta trust us a little."
She buried her hands in her hair, pulling at the strands. She jumped when she felt Arthur's hands grab her own, stilling the movement. When she looked up at him, his eyes were thoughtful as he pulled her hands down. "You got anything else rattling around in that head of yours?"
"What the hell are you two running from?" She asked, tasted the acid of not knowing on her tongue.
Arthur shook his head, pulling back from her. "You don't wanna know, Rabbit."
"But-"
"No," he reiterated, mouth a hard line. When she mirrored his expression, something flickered across his eyes. "I ain't gonna paint an even bigger target on your back, girl, so get that mulish expression off your face."
She dropped her eyes, then raised them again as John broke in.
"Bunny. You try to run," his eyes were somber, "and we'll hunt you down. For your own sake as much as ours."
Fear bubbled up her throat, "I haven't tried-"
"Not yet, you ain't." Arthur patted her hand and then dropped it, "but you ain't been too tempted, yet."
Rabbit's eyes narrowed, fear turning to anger. "I ain't gut one of you neither, and I've had plenty opportunity."
Arthur chuckled at her outburst, rising and stretching. "Oh, that we probably would've deserved, though."
John's grin was back. "Definitely deserve a guttin or two, after all we've done."
Rabbit stared up at Arthur, anger bleeding out at their ill placed humor. It was hard to process all the emotions, hold onto them long enough to do anything other than react. Arthur watched as the fight went out of her, a frown marking his features when her eyes drooped.
"C'mon, Rabbit, we've got a good ways to go." His hands reached down to her, waiting for hers to slip against his palms before he hauled her up, hand holding her steady. "We'll rest once we get to town."
"Why we going to Valentine?"
Her question caused the men to share a look, but John just huffed a "great, we picked up an eavesdropper," and dumped the full percolator over the fire, kicking dirt to cover the embers.
Arthur watched him for a moment before answering. "We're picking up a letter,"he added more when she looked confused, "it'll give us directions to a safe path, locations of drops, stuff like that."
"A path over the mountains?"
He ignored her question, giving her a hard look as he ushered her towards the horses.
"We'll get you some new clothes in Valentine, if yours are so dirty you've taken to wearin the mangy raccoon's threads."
It took her a moment to realize he meant John, but the man's indignant scoff make her realize it was Arthur's idea of a joke.
His hands slipped into place on top of the bruises, and Rabbit flinched as his grip tightened, lifting her up into the saddle. His eyes missed nothing, but her next words stilled his hands as they drifted to the bottom of her borrowed shirt.
"Maybe a bath too? Get this mud from Amberino off."
His smile was small, gaze turning down before she could even be sure of it.
John was suddenly at his side, bedrolls bunched under one arm, finger jabbing into Arthur's bicep. "No. You two don't get to gang up on me." His finger pointed up at Rabbit. "So don't you even think about it." He stalked to his horse, ripping an extra shirt out of his saddlebag, getting caught in it halfway as he tried to put it on inside out.
Arthur snorted, hand sliding across her thigh as he turned and started for his own horse. "Oh, no princess, wouldn't dream of it."
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Valentine was a livestock town at the base of a cliff with all the glamour of sheep shit and a shotgun design. Arthur and John were on the lookout the moment the horses crossed the railroad, and their disquiet didn't lessen until they reached the sheriff's office, where the man himself nodded to them as they rode past
They passed a doctor's office, gunsmith, saloon, general store and a hotel. Arthur reached over and took Sugar's reins from Rabbit, and she sat back in the saddle, fighting a yawn, as he directed them to the stables at the end of the road.
The stable master was a burly man, kind to the horses and posed no questions as Arthur registered his stallion, Buell, John's horse Old Boy, and Sugar to be boarded for a night. His eyes did flicker to Rabbit when she stumbled getting off the horse, but John was quick to catch her before she hit the mud, lanky frame blocking his view.
When they stepped out of the stable, John's hand was still wrapped around her upper arm, and she sagged against him, blinking blearily at Arthur as he turned. His head dipped, and the late afternoon sun cut over the brim of his hat and blinded her for a second.
"Gonna head to the General Store, save the post office for tomorrow. John, why don't you get us a room and get Rabbit a bath." He took a step and then turned back around. "Make sure she don't fall asleep and drown."
"I'm right here," she jerked her arm away from John, trying to straighten up. "I'm not a kid."
"Oh, we know that, Bunny." John's signature bark of a laugh made her ears red, and she jerked away from his hand again when he tried to take her arm.
Arthur watched them, head bobbing as he scratched at his beard. "What's your favorite color, Rabbit?"
She looked up from where she was still trying to twitch away from John's hand, but he managed to grab onto her when she stumbled again. "Shit. Uh... Blue?"
Arthur huffed, waving them on as he started for the store again, not turning back when John let out a frazzled "fuck" when Rabbit tried to jerk away her arm again and succeeded in making him stumble instead.
She thought it would be difficult, keeping John out of the bath room. When Arthur insisted something, he usually followed those orders to the letter. But when he opened the door of the hotel, pushing her through before him, he only asked the owner for the room, paid for it and the bath, and then plopped himself outside the door, tipping his head back.
"Rabbit." She turned at the door, watching as he took his hat off and rested it against his thigh, eyes dark as he looked up at her from beneath his lashes. "You want some company?"
She shut the door on his hungry look, stepping away from the wood so she couldn't hear his chuckle.
She almost fell asleep in the bath, it was a struggle to keep her eyes opened. If it hadn't been for the off key humming coming through the door, she might really have drowned in the tub.
The knock on the side door had her jerking, wide awake, as a girl with pretty blonde hair, piled up on top of her head, stuck her upper body through the door. "Hey, sugar, you need some help?"
Rabbit eyed the door that John was behind, then nodded. "Yea, that'd be great. Thank you."
When she finally came out of the bath room, steam trailing out after her, she found not John, but Arthur leaning against the dark paneled wood. When he looked up, his eyes tripped up on the wet curls of her hair as it fell over her shoulders.
His eyes moved to her own, and she watched as he straightened with a grumble, hand waving her in front of him. "Let's go upstairs, get your new clothes so John can have his nice shirt back."
Rabbit glanced down at the wrinkly object, covered in sweat stains. "This is his nice shirt?"
Arthur's eyebrows went up as he nodded, following her up the stairs. "The bad one has holes."
Rabbit refrained from asking the follow up question of "from what" and instead let him usher her upstairs, taking the first door to the left when they got there.
The room was simple, clean, bed against one wall, chair and chest of drawers complete with a mirror against the other. Arthur closed the door, and she paused in the middle of the room as he stepped up behind her.
She shuddered out a breath when his fingers ghosted a trail up her back, and turned her head to see him watching her. "I'm sorry I can't answer all your questions, darlin'."
"Could you answer just one?" Her words caused his head to tip to the side, mouth opening to curl around a word as he considered. Finally, he dipped his head, looking back at her while nodding.
"Why did you bring me along?"
His hand went to his eyes, looking upwards as he visibly turned away from her question, pulling back as he answered. "I don't rightly know, Rabbit. Could say we were greedy, could say we were scared." His blue eyes pinned her when they finally looked back down, sadness darkening the color. "All I do know is that we couldn't leave you there. Not after what we did, knowing what could happen to ya."
She looked down, but his fingers caught her chin, bringing it back up. "I'm sure I'll burn in hell for my part, sweetheart, but I don't regret my actions, when they led us to you."
His lips tasted of whiskey when he bent down and brushed them against hers, soft and reluctant to part. She kissed back instinctively, fear falling away for a moment. When he pulled back, she exhaled slowly, hands curling as she struggled to tame the feeling in her gut, feeling like a ticking bomb.
His blue eyes were right above her face, hands framing her in when she tried to pull away. "A little faith Rabbit, that's all I ask." His lips twisted with rye humor, but he softly rubbed her cheek before pulling away.
"Come see your clothes." His hands snapped the cord surrounding the parcels sitting on the bed, and pulled back the crinkly brown paper and began laying out the clothing.
There were shirts, a pale blue one and a yellow starred with little flowers, the calico print soft when she reached out to feel it. Arthur waited until she had pulled her hand back before laying out a vest on top of the shirts.
Dark grey, lined with sheep's wool on the inside. A brown coat was laid over it, also with the thick sheep wool on the inside. Gloves, scarf, thick socks. Thick jeans were tossed to the side, along with a pair of thick red long johns that Rabbit snagged before they could leave Arthur's hand, holding them up in front of her.
Something dropped on her head. She reached up and pulled it off, turning the brown stalker hat in her hands before placing it on top of the jacket on the bed.
"I don't think I've ever seen these." She gestured to the Long Johns. Turning to Arthur, she felt a bubble of nervousness when he started undoing his shirt, but he only pulled it slightly down so she could see the dark grey cotton underneath.
"You start wearing em when it gets cold. Growing up in mountains, you should know that." He looked like he wanted to ask her something, mouth opening, before seeming to think better of it. His fingers redid the buttons of his shirt.
She shrugged, "well I didn't." She let her fingers trail along the blue shirt again. When she heard the shuffle of more paper, she turned to watch as Arthur pulled something else out, running his hands over the material before tugging the Long Johns out of her hands, replacing it with the softest cotton she had ever felt.
It felt like water against her fingers, and she let it fall open, making a small noise in the back of her throat when she realized what it was.
The nightgown, adorned with tiny buttons up the front, was probably the nicest thing she had ever even seen, let alone hold. It was a bride's gift, an outfit for a wedding night, something she knew she shouldn't accept, knowing this even though she had grown up in the woods, away from polite society.
"I- I don't-"
"Yes, yous do." Arthur refused to take it back, hands on his belt buckle to thwart her attempts to press it back into his hands.
Her face was red, but it had nothing on his, he practically refused to meet her gaze.
"But-"
"No buts," he rumbled, voice catching as he gathered up the clothes on the bed again, before nodding to the nightgown. "Go ahead and get that on, John's bringing food." He tucked the clothes into a leather bag, set it against the bottom of the bed.
"I'm gonna go get a bath." It was obvious he was trying to keep his eyes turned away as she started sloppily undoing the buttons to John's shirt, forgoing her earlier reluctance in favor of getting the stinky shirt off her skin. "Make sure you lock... the door..."
He trailed off, and Rabbit turned her head. His eyes were riveted on her waist, and at first she thought he was transfixed by her bare skin, until his fingers slid against the edges of the bruise decorating her ribs. She winced when his fingers pressed down for half a second, before they withdrew.
"So that's why you were wearing John's shirt."
"It was his idea," she whispered, and his hands returned to her skin, tracing patterns between the love bites and darker bruises. He took the nightgown from her, undoing half the buttons quickly before dropping it over her head. While she was blinded, she felt his lips press against the bruise on her hip, her heart thundering as she froze like a rabbit in his embrace.
The chapped surface ran up her stomach, lingering on the bruise on her ribs before he pressed them against her sternum, shadowing the love bites on the bottom of her breasts.
Her breathing hitched, sped up as he pulled her under, and her limbs twitched as if they were tied to a spiders web, arms coming up to tunnel into his hair.
Arthur pulled back, fingers brushing her skin as he buttoned the nightgown back up. Before he could kiss her again, she leaned into him, tipping her head back as her eyes fluttered, before losing her balance and sagging against him. He caught her effortlessly, tipping her back into the bed.
"Get some sleep, Rabbit. I'm gonna go get a bath."
She stared at him confused when he paused at the door, hand on the knob. "I'm gonna lock you in here," his eyes flickered, "you better stay put."
That fear edged back along her spine, reminding her that she really knew nothing about these men. She shrank into the flat quilt after he shut the door, hands grasping the nightgown when she heard the lock click into place.
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Warm lips pressed against the corner of her mouth, rousing Rabbit from sleep, wrapping her up in a distorted limbo, unable to respond. They nipped at her jaw, and then covered her own, pulling the breath from her lungs.
Her eyes finally opened, stared up into John's dark ones. His hands were on her nightgown, pulling the edge up past her thighs, knees bracketing her hips, keeping her flat on her back. She made a little noise, and he shooshed her, hands firm against her stomach as he dropped the cloth and splayed them against her skin.
She made another soft gasp when one hand dipped down and cupped her heat, and John slipped his tongue into her mouth at the opportunity. He pulled away for a second, taking in her dazed expression, before he huffed.
"Quiet, Bunny, don't want to wake anyone." He turned her head, fingers resting against the column of her throat as he maneuvered her to where she could see Arthur, splayed out in the chair where he had it propped in front of the door.
He opened a few buttons on the nightgown, pulling it down and to the side to bare her chest. His teeth rasped over the swell of her breast, lips following as he sealed them around a nipple, invoking a full bodied shudder from her as he flicked the tip with his tongue.
"Easy, Bunny, easy." He sounded incredibly pleased with himself as his words tickled her skin
She involuntarily arched as he slipped a finger inside her, curling it upwards. A finger pressed against her lips, silencing her. He shooshed her, lips next to her ear as he pumped his finger in and out slowly, watching the way her chest rose and fell, smiling when she squirmed.
Her eyes closed when his head dipped to suck at her hipbone, beard catching against the skin. Her fingers curled in the folds of the rucked up nightgown, needing the movement to ground herself. His hand was still on her throat, she could feel it every time she swallowed.
When she was finally able to open her eyes again, she almost jumped. John chuckled against her skin, mistaking the movement as the response to him biting the inside of her thigh.
Arthur was awake, eyes almost hidden under the brim of his hat as he stared back at her, gaze flickering down her body before he recaptured her stare. She watched in shock as his hand drifted down, pressing firm against the bulge in his pants as his hips lifted into the caress.
At that same moment, John sucked her clit into his mouth, and her hands jumped up to the grip on her throat, head slamming back. Her thighs quivered, fighting the instinct to close them around John's head as he swirled his tongue, creating friction as he added a second finger.
She bucked under him, and his touch disappeared as he stood, pulling her to the edge of the bed with one swift movement. She could see Arthur's expression through the brass rods at the end of the bed, and the hunger in it set her blood boiling, adding effect to John's ministrations.
When he pushed in, she wasn't expecting it, and a garbled cry escaped under his hand as her eyes snapped back to his. His brown eyes were almost black with lust, and his fingers inched up to grab her chin, turning her head back to Arthur.
"Don't watch me, missy, watch him." Her eyes widened at the command, but she was helpless to refuse as he tilted his hips backward before sinking in further. Her mouth opened on a silent gasp, thighs forced wide apart as John leaned over her, his other arm braced on the bed.
John's hips moved slowly, pulling out and pushing in with a casualness that bordered on lazy. His head dropped, hair brushing against her breast with every thrust.
She spaced out, pinned beneath him, eyes unfocused as she watched Arthur pull his pants down and take out his cock, fingers wrapping around his hard length. For some reason watching the pull of his fingers against his flesh highlighted the grasp on her neck, and she was hyper aware of each man's movements. The drag of flesh inside her body was mirrored in Arthur’s hand, and to her sleep addled mind they were all connected in this sensuous embrace.
John's fingers ghosted down her neck, crossing between her breasts, over her stomach and between her legs. She shivered when he began stroking her in time with his thrusts, slow and sweet. His breath teased her collar bone, but she could not turn her head towards him. She was trapped in a staring contest with Arthur, whose eyes practically dared her to look away as he stroked himself.
The kernel of pleasure grew in her core under the soft touch of John's fingers, growing brighter and brighter as he moved above her. Her small breaths became gasps for air as he picked up his pace, watching as Arthur's hand matched the tempo John set.
She went off suddenly, the orgasm blindsiding her as she arched up, plastering herself to John as her hands found his hips. He gave a groan and thrust deep inside, going stiff as he came.
Arthur's curse off to the side drew her eyes, and she watched as he spilled onto his hand, hips stuttering upwards through the pleasure, face a taunt grimace.
She twitched under the onslaught, visual and physical, whimpering as John pulled backwards. She felt sensitive, strung out. He leaned up and tilted her face, fingers pulling at her eyes to check her pupils.
"She's crashing." He muttered, turning and reaching for a brown bag next to Arthur.
"Good thing you brought food." Was the grumbled reply as Arthur discreetly wiped his hand on a hotel towel, dropping it to the floor and buttoning up his pants.
He stood and moved towards the bed, catching Rabbit's arms and trying to haul her up. "Rabbit, darlin, wake up. You need to eat."
She went with him bonelessly, pliant against him. When she was finally sitting up, he took a step back, ignoring how her fingers clasped his shirt in an effort to keep him near.
"Take the sandwich from John." When she blinked back at him, not moving or trying to take the offered sandwich, Arthur huffed and turned his ire onto John.
"Great, John. Couldn't have held back until she had a meal at least?"
"I didn't see you complaining, old man." John sent a pointed look towards Arthur's lap, causing the older cowboy to glare.
"I will shoot you, Marston."
John laughed. "Haven't yet," and waved the sandwich under Rabbit's nose. The smell finally knocked her out of her stupor, and she grabbed it, taking a huge bite. She ate half of it before she finally slowed down, and acknowledged the men.
She stared for a moment, looking around the room and taking in the position of the chair in front of the door that had supposedly been locked. "How'd you two get in?"
Both men stared at her over their sandwiches, but John answered, "outlaws, remember, Bunny?"
"Oh," now she did. She stared down at the sandwich, feeling a pit in her stomach that had nothing to do with the food. Sure, it felt strange somehow, eating food that hadn't been caught or spent most of its life living in a metal can, but it still tasted good. It was the reminder that they were wanted men that turned her gut.
She watched as Arthur ate his sandwich slowly, eyes following John as the man in question tried to get dressed and eat at the same time.
"Ya know, Marston, if you slowed down you might actually enjoy it." There seemed to be a hidden joke layered into the statement, but John only made a crude gesture over his shoulder at Arthur, the sandwich clamped between his teeth.
He took it out after he thumbed his suspenders on. "I'm gonna go check on the horses one last time, make sure the stablemaster got em in the back. Wouldn't do to have that monster of yours get noticed."
He waited until he was out the door, pulling it shut halfway before he made his last remark. "Keep her warm while I'm gone, Arthur."
Rabbit's face felt like it might be on fire.
Arthur remained sitting in his chair, finishing his sandwich, before he scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed, head dropping back and to the side to stare at her. "You cold, Rabbit?"
She shook her head.
Arthur raised his head again, brow scrunching as she avoided his gaze. When she kept her eyes trained on the quilt patches, he dropped his head again and closed his eyes.
"Get back in bed, Rabbit."
She did as asked, looking over her shoulder to see if he followed. When he showed every intention of staying in the chair, she asked, "are you coming to bed, Arthur?" Her voice felt small in the air between them.
Eyes flickered behind closed lids. "You don't want me to, sweetheart, now go to sleep."
She had nothing to answer to that, because as always, Arthur was right.
-------------------------------------------
The window in the room was positioned for the setting sun, not the rising. When Rabbit finally woke up, the room was still dark and cool, the silence punctuated only by the soft snores from the men.
She sat up slowly, stretching, shivering when the soft cloth of the nightgown slid against her skin. Half a glance told her she was still alone in the bed, and she looked over the edge, puzzled, to find John laid out on the floor, arm over his head as he slept.
Arthur was still in the chair, long legs crossed in front of him, hat completely covering his face. His hands were folded over his stomach, and they gently rose and fell with his breath.
The serene scene was broken when Rabbit slipped a foot onto the rough floor. First thing in the morning her bladder was always in a position of power, and she intended to sneak out and use the outhouse behind the building. However, the floor squeaked when she placed weight on her foot, and almost in unison the two cowboys snuffled and woke up.
Arthur sat forward quickly, hand rubbing the back of his neck as he eyed her, hat falling to his lap. John was slower, groaning as he shuffled up on his elbows, eyes still shut.
"Going somewhere, Bunny?" John's voice in the morning sounded like he was dying, croaking out like a toad trying to impersonate a man.
"Bathroom," she whispered, not stopping to explain further as she made for the door.
"Hold on, Rabbit." Arthur finally stood, stretching his back so it arched and popped before he shook out his arms. "You can't go out in just that nightgown."
She made a noise of impatience, drawing a snort from John as he used the edge of the bed to pull himself up. "There's a bedpan in the corner if you want it, Rabbit."
She and Arthur both glared at him, Arthur smacking him on the backside of his head as he passed and pulled out the clothes from yesterday. Silently, he held them out, and her fingers closed on the yellow shirt starred with white flowers first.
She was out the door again before she had finished buttoning up the pants, Arthur on her heels as she trotted down the stairs and rounded the clerk desk. She was out the door and to the little wooden building before Arthur had even cleared the hallway.
"Had to go?" He inquired, and she heard him walk around the side of the little building to give her privacy. She grumbled back at him, surprised when it pulled a huff of amusement from him.
When she emerged she found him watching the road, eyes tracking the people that came and went. When she stepped up next to him, he blinked down at her, the climbing sun bathing them both in warmth.
“I think we overslept.” She commented. Indeed, the sun was higher than she expected, closer to noon than what was technically morning.
“We all needed it,” he argued, shrugging his wide shoulders and standing straight from where he had been leaning against the outhouse. "How you feelin? Ain't seen you move that quick in a while."
She shrugged, now watching the people like he had been. "I'll probably be tired for the rest of my life, but right now I'm ok."
He nodded, mouth opening slightly as his eyes narrowed on something in the distance. "Get John to take ya to the saloon, get some breakfast. It ain't the best, but it'll fill you up." He shifted his weight before gesturing, pulling her back to the hotel.
"Where you goin?" She let him pull her along, feet surer and head clear enough to understand that she was being passed off again. John exited the door, yawning and covering his face with his hands.
"Going to the post office." Arthur kicked the edge of John's boot when the man refused to acknowledge their presence. "Go get breakfast, John. Hopefully we'll be leaving within the hour."
John's comeback was muffled by his hands. "Running away from the temptations of civilization already, Morgan?"
Arthur huffed, hand resting on Rabbit's back for a heartbeat before he tipped his hat to her and strode away.
"Is he gone?" John asked.
"Yea?"
"Thank God," he dropped his hands. "Man is too damn chipper in the mornin." He set his clenched fists on his hips. "You hungry?"
She was still trying to work out how the hell Arthur was chipper in the mornings, but she nodded and followed John around the edge of the hotel and back to the Main Street.
He threw out an arm to stop her from stepping out from the shadow of the building and into the street, head canting side to side as he took a moment to watch people passing. "Ok, then." He dropped his hand, leading the way to the saloon.
Valentine was a busy town, and the dirt Main Street had already been churned into a muddy swath with morning travelers. Rabbit made it halfway across the street, taking two steps for every one of John's, and then stopped, agitated, as the mud held fast to her boot.
"John!" She hadn't meant to shout, but his back went ramrod stiff at the sound. She waved weakly when he turned, brows pulled low over his expressive eyes. "Sorry, help?"
His brows popped back up at the sorry sight she made, foot stuck in the mud and straining to pull it out. His lips quirked, but she only snapped. "I'll tell Arthur you left me in the mud."
He snorted as he moved forward, hand grabbing hers to yank her free. "Already using the old man against me, eh?" With his help she actually made it to the wooden steps leading to the saloon, but John stopped her before they could look around.
"Rabbit, while we're in town, try to call me Jim if you have to, okay?"
She nodded, and he added, "Arthur's Fenton if you have to call for him."
His smile was secretive, but he only clapped a hand on her shoulder before sliding it around her waist when she gave him a confused look, and steered her inside the saloon.
The place was practically empty this early in the day, but the bartender still nodded at them and moved closer when they stepped up to the corner.
"Could we get some oatmeal, maybe some bread?"
John slid some coins across the bar, and the bartender scooped them up and walked away, returning with two bowls with steam curling from the top and a loaf of bread.
John tore a chunk of bread, and Rabbit followed suit, noticing that it's soft interior was studded with clumps of fruit, before pulling the bowl towards her. The man beside her ate quickly, practically scarfing his food down. Rabbit supposed it was a trait someone picked up when they lived life on the run.
When he finished he drummed his fingers against the bar, watching her eat. After a couple of bites though, Rabbit raised her head and lowered her spoon.
"Watching me ain't gonna make me eat any faster."
"You're spending entirely too much time with us, Rabbit. Getting ornery."
She just shrugged at his words. After a moment, he pushed away from the bar, eyes still on her. "If I go back to the room and pack up the rest of our gear, am I gonna find you here when I get back?"
Rabbit stared wide eyed at him. This was the first time an opportunity like this had come up, a chance for her to be truly alone.
His eyes narrowed as she paused, leaning forward to whisper. "Will you stay here, Rabbit?"
"Yes," she whispered back without thinking, eyes flickering to the bartender and the only other patron. When he nodded like they had sealed a deal, turned and walked out of the saloon, her heart started thundering. His eyes had met hers right as he stepped out the door, and she knew he knew he was taking a chance.
Had she meant it? Would she stay put? Rabbit stared down at her oatmeal, realizing that if ever she was to have a moment to escape, it was now.
She dawdled, eating the oatmeal. Half of her screamed to flee the building, grab Sugar and go, and the other half hoped John would come back and remove the temptation.
On one hand, they really were looking after her, and Rabbit could tell even with her extremely limited interactions with men that they genuinely cared for her. On the other hand though, she was running with wanted men, crimes unknown to her, taken against her will and held hostage.
She ran a finger down the dinged up curve of the bowl. Maybe it wasn't against her will though, it's not like she fought tooth and nail against them. Had they met in another part of her life, another way, she might have been drawn to them instead of the other way around.
She snorted. Of course she was drawn to them, no use lying to herself. A half blind woman would be drawn to them, the way they looked and acted.
Her musings were cut short at the jangled clink of boots with spurs, and she felt relief that John was finally back, and that awful temptation removed.
However, when she flicked a glance to the saloon door, it wasn't John that walked through, nor Arthur. The form was wrong, too short and rounded, the wide shadow of his hat different from her cowboys'.
"Hey, boss, can I get a shot of whiskey?" Oily voice, dusty face, he looked like he'd been riding for days.
The man plopped himself at the bar, leaning his upper body against it, and flipped a coin in the direction of the bartender. However, the man ignored the coin as it spun on the wood, instead throwing his towel over his shoulder and facing the newcomer with a scowl.
"I remember you. I think you've caused enough trouble here."
The newcomer laughed, hands splayed wide as he stood back up. An undercurrent of danger ran through the room, and Rabbit was suddenly very thankful she was in the corner, out of this man's way.
"Don't be like that, friend. I'm working for the government, just about. Suppose to ask you fine folks about the whereabouts of a pair of lowlife, degenerates."
Rabbit's heart rate skyrocketed again, her mind going to two specific lowlife degenerates, and was thankful John hadn't come back yet.
The bartender didn't look convinced, but he unfolded his arms. "What you on about?"
"I'm with the Pinketons, lookin' for two gang members." He raised his voice so it carried throughout the building. "John Marston, and Arthur Morgan. They was here a couple months back, rumored to be stoppin through town. Just wanna know if you've seen them."
The bartender pursed his lips, considering. "What they do?"
Rabbit barely heard him, her eyes glued to the newcomer as he talked. Time slowed down, her heartbeat sounded like a drum in her ears. Her eyes were riveted on his mouth as the words spilled from his lips, each like a knife in her gut.
"They're murderers, friend. Thieves, outlaws. Burnt a whole family to a crisp inside their house down in Rhodes, killed a bunch of folk robbin a bank in Saint Denis. Pillaged and plundered every state they've ever been through, and that's just the big ticket items."
"From the way I thought when last you was here, yous were buddies." This from the one other man at the bar, and the newcomer turned on him quickly with a thunderous look.
"I was undercover at the time I knew them, dimwit." His hand itched towards his gun, and Rabbit dropped her spoon.
Eyes flickered to her, but the bartender moved first. "Take your bread sweetheart, go on and go."
He held the hunk of bread out towards her, but Rabbit couldn't tear her eyes away from the newcomer. He turned fully towards her, eyes flickered over her, and a leer lifted his lips.
"Hey, pretty thang. You wanna come closer? I gots all kinds of stories." His laugh was a snap as she jumped backwards, hitting a table as she turned and made a beeline for the door, bread forgotten. She slammed her hand against the frame as she hurdled through, causing her to stumble, knuckles on fire.
She jumped the steps as the bartender's words rang in her head 'go on and go, go on and go." She was halfway to the stable before a voice ripped through he air, freezing her in her tracks.
"Rabbit!" John was standing in front of the hotel, one foot on the stairs as he stared at her, a line between his eyes. She had little doubt she looked terrified, and the man in the saloon's voice sounded in her head. 'Murderers, burnt a whole family to a crisp...'
She tore her gaze from him, sprinting for the stables, conscious that he would be right on her heels, with a longer stride. If she could just get to Sugar-
His arm was like steel when he snagged her waist, lifting her in the air even as she cried out at the shock. "Let me go, let me go, let me go!"
She screamed it at him nonstop, a mantra as she twisted violently in his grasp. He clamped down harder, causing her to squawk at the pressure on her forgotten bruises.
"I don't think she likes you much, Johnny Boy."
John's grip slackened at the sound of the voice, turning quickly to face it. Rabbit pulled away from him sharply, distantly hearing him answer:
"Micah, you oily snake, what are you doing?" He straightened, drawing his attention as he blocked Rabbit from the other man.
Micah stepped down to the street, hands settled on his gunbelt, fingers curled backwards. "Why, looking for you, cowpoke. Got a lot of catching up to do, friend."
"We never really were much of friends," John responded, not even giving the pretense of politeness as his hand settled on his gun.
Micah mirrored the movement. "Speaking of friends, where's old Arthur hiding?"
"He died on that mountain, you nasty rat."
"I find that very hard to believe." Micah snarled, and drew.
John was quicker, but Micah twisted, and his shot hit his arm instead of tearing a hole through his chest.
Micah's shot whizzed by Rabbit's head, and she jerked away from John, crying out. He turned halfway and pushed her further away, anger transforming his face into someone she didn't know. "Get out of here, Rabbit!"
She tried to warn him. As he turned, Micah's gun rose again, and Rabbit grabbed at his hand. A strangled, "John," escaped her, but the gun had already fired, the report from the chamber not completely masking the wet snick as the bullet found its mark.
"Shit." He lurched into her, hand going to his ribs. When she tried to steady him, his head turned towards Micah, saw him clicking the hammer back again, and pushed Rabbit away. "I said get out of here! Go!"
He snapped at her, clicking the hammer back on his own pistol, murder in his eyes. Gone was the John she barely knew, and in his place stood the murderer Micah had proclaimed him to be in the saloon.
Rabbit tore off without a backward glance.
"You sure know how to pick women, Johnny Boy." Micah's smile was the snake in the garden as Rabbit tore off for the stable, and John wished he could punch it off of the man's face. "Maybe I can go find her after this is all over, show her a real man."
John clenched his jaw, shaking his head at the obvious goad. "We both know this is never over," John pointed the gun at his former gang member.
"Not til yous dead," Micah drawled, looking smug and almost bored.
There was a loud whinny behind them, and John felt the air buffet him as Sugar lurched out of the stable. He saw her flank out of the corner of his eye as Rabbit pulled her head around, but didn't spare her a glance as she galloped out of town, the thundering of hooves fading soon.
His side burned. John pulled his hand from his ribs, glancing at the hole in his shirt. He cussed and started breathing through the pain like Arthur had taught him. When he raised his eyes again, he could see a group of lawmen in the distance behind Micah.
"Tick tock, Johnny Boy. What's it gonna be, a bullet or a rope?" The snake’s smile died at the click of a hammer behind his head.
"You know," Arthur drawled, voice a dangerous rumble, "you really should learn to watch your back, seeing how yous a traitor."