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cowyolks · 11 months

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WAKE OF THE WATER

Pairing: John Marston x Female!Reader

Summary: You spend the day helping John learn how to swim— he’s quick to repay you.

Words: 5.4 K

Warnings: It’s Smutty y’all— mutual pinning, no mention of Abigail or Jack, outdoor sex, fingering, teasing, p in v sex, so romantic it’ll give you a toothache.

A/N: My debut to Red Dead fics! And what better than the OG character himself. Special thanks to @mykneeshurt for inspiration and putting up with my thirsting. Also don’t mind me being a little rusty, it’s been a few months <3

“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.” A grouchy voice grumbled in front of you. It shouldn’t have surprised you, John Marston was the most stubborn man you’ve ever had the pleasure to meet. His arms were outstretched, slowly dipping into wide arcs, his wrists bending in a pattern that suggested he was scooping something up.

“Not stupid. It’s survival.” You argued, your own arms working small circles that John was attempting to copy.

“I sure feel stupid.” He complained, stopping his gesturing with a loud plop of his hands by his side. You gave him a glare, pointing an accusing finger at his slouching form. “You’re the one that asked me to help, I’m only following through.”

“I didn’t exactly plan on spinning my arms in a circle like some wounded duck, Sweetheart.” His raspy voice pitched lower at the pet name, a name he had been calling you even more recently. It was no secret that you were sweet on him, as he was sweet on you. Except you ended up being even more stubborn than him, for you were waiting on him to make the first move.

You were certain the man was too emotionally constipated to even consider admitting his feelings— but a girl could dream.

“I was thinking you looked more like a goose.” You joked, a soft smile spilling over your lips as you took a couple steps towards him. The loose gravel crunched under your boots as you stood before him, eyes searching upwards towards his face. “Shut up,” he softly quipped, dropping his chin to observe your features.

His stitches still littered the one side of his face, the skin closing shut around them caused redness to flush. His stubble had grown out, since you advised him not to try to shave around the stitches. You liked it that way anyways, not that you would admit it. The dark waves of his hair curled under his hat, shadowing the soft adoring look of his coffee colored eyes.

“I think you need to try a little harder, Marston.” You teased, eyes flickering with mischief. With a quick tug, you popped his hat off his head, nearly laughing at the stray strands of hair that picked up. “Hey!” He called, but you were already sprinting away, headed towards the gentle flow of the Dakota River. As quick as you could, you kicked off your boots, stepping into the cool water of the shallows.

You decided you’d start John off here.

“Let’s put you to work if you find my teaching so irrelevant.” You quipped. John crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at you from the bank.

“I didn’t think we’d start in the water today.” He grumbled, swaying lightly on his feet in what looked to be unease. Never less, he asked you for help, and you were dead set on helping him swim.

“I’m not going to let you drown, ya know,” you reassured, plopping his hat upon your head. A minuscule curl of his lip let you know that he trusted you, even so he let out a puff of air so full that his shoulders slouched a couple inches.

“I know. Just…” he seemed loss for words, except you had this annoying habit of always knowing what he wanted to say.

“I ain’t Arthur, John. I’m not here to judge, just to teach. I’ll be swimming right beside you.”

This was obviously what he wanted to hear. John gave a small nod, kicking off his own boots and unbuckling his holsters and belt to his pants, dropping them to the gravel by his feet with a dull thud. Coffee eyes glanced up, catching your roaming stare as a strange look crossed his features.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You blurted a little too quickly. Resisting the urge to cringe, you instead settled upon your own clothes, that were definitely way too heavy to be swimming in. With nimble fingers you began to unbutton your shirt and skirts, which would leave you in just your free-flowing chemise.

A garbled noise escaped John as you shimmied out of your violet petticoat. “What are you doing?” He asked, voice higher than he likely intended, judging by his flushed cheeks and adverted gaze.

“I’m not swimming in my good clothes, besides they’d only way me down.”You explained, attempting to resolve his panicked state. With a gentle heave, your skirts landed upon the shore by his feet. You took a couple more steps back, the water now up to your breasts. He still stood frozen, focusing intently upon the settling sun that painted the sky hues of burnt orange and crimson. “It’s not like you haven’t seen all us girls in our night clothes, Marston.” You reminded him playfully.

“Right…”

You glanced expectantly at John, watching as he stepped into the water with a slow splash. He reached you after a few strides, the water only coming up to the middle of his belly.

The river felt nice in the July sun, a cool contrast to the blazing rays and unending humidity. You’d spent days in your childhood dipping in the lakes around New Hanover, catching pickerel and skipping rocks, so the steady current and chill was no surprise to you. John, however, wasn’t as used to the cold.

“Best not lose my hat.” He grouched, arms crossed in distaste at the lapping water. Goosebumps littered his exposed forearms, and his jaw sat tight to avoid clattering his teeth.

Right. His hat.

A sudden idea flashed, and without hesitation you took off his worn hat and threw it to the side, watching it soar over the water and to the opposite bank. It sat between about fifteen yards of water, slowly babbling on. It’d be good practice for John, seeing that the water wouldn’t extend past his nose, so he’d be able to stand and breathe, but it would be best for him to attempt to swim.

“What the hell was that for?”

An amused smile crossed your face, “We are going to go get your hat.” You explained, attempting to ignore the way the man playfully rolled his eyes. With a huff, he began to take steps against the current, attempting to walk to his hat. You clicked your tongue distastefully, your small palm landing upon his shirt that clung to his chest.

“Swimming.” You demanded, a firm look in your eye. John clenched his teeth, obviously displeased even though he’d asked you to help.

“I’ll show you first. Watch.” You added, lowering yourself into the dark water. Your hair collected droplets, but you paid no mind, instead you focused on moving your arms as you showed John earlier, this time adding little kicks to propel you onwards.

“Use your legs too, kick back and forth, almost like you’re running, but on your stomach.” You advised, swiveling in the water and paddling back to his sulking form.

“Alright your turn.” You offered, sinking your bare feet back into the soft clay of the river. John grumbled something under his breath, but reluctantly bent his knees next to you. He was so close you could feel his uneasy exhales, with a push, he began to kick and paddle.

A surprised shriek left you as water splashed upon your face, blinding you for a moment as John paddled way too fast. He was winded in a matter of seconds, and now you saw the problem as to why he couldn’t swim. He used all his energy in a matter of seconds trying to keep his head above the surface.

“Whoa, hold on a second.” You hopped towards him, pushing your wet mop of hair out of your eyes. He was happy to stop, heaving for air as his feet found the gravel once again.

He looked irritated, which was understandable. He’d been bullied for this for as long as he was in the gang.

“Maybe I should teach you how to float first. You’re strokes were way too fast, it’s all about staying above the water, gliding if you will.” You explained, being as gentle as possible to avoid making him more frustrated.

“I can’t do it, sweetheart. Best just leave me to drown if I ever fall in.” He growled, his breathing leveling out slightly.

“I’d never. Besides, you know you’re too stubborn to die. Now let’s try this again. Watch.”

Your head dipped backwards, a small inhale leaving your lungs as you tipped and floated on your back. “It’s all about your breathing. You’re a bobber on the water, if your lungs are full of air you’ll float.” You explained.

You tilted your head to the side while on your back, making sure John was listening, as he suddenly got very quiet. He was observing, except not particularly at your form, instead his eyes were unashamedly glued to your chest. The pearly chemise you wore stuck to your breasts, the water forming around your body like a second skin. And to make matters worse, the material was translucent around the soft buds of your nipples.

He adverted his eyes, bravely meeting your own with little shame. You felt the flush of your cheeks in such white hot embarrassment that it hurt your gut. Something shifted in the air— like clear sky to thunderstorm, even his usual coffee colored eyes turnt dark like rolling smoke, predatory and lidded.

“Sorry.” You squirmed, sinking into the water until you were fully covered. John shook his head slightly, almost as if he was in a dazed stupor.

“No need to apologize.” His voice was soft, yet deeper.

“Right.” You cleared your throat, focusing on anything else but the fluttering in your stomach. It was the first time John seemed to be brave in his feelings, or at least his lust. Regardless of your striped modesty, it was a start.

“Try to float.” You commanded, wading closer to him as he tipped back at your instruction. His body kept him up for a couple seconds— a small win, until he deeply exhaled and lost his buoyancy.

You were quick, placing your palm upon the tense muscle of his back, another palm holding just at the base of his neck, nails accidentally scratching softly upon his scalp. “Good, that’s good, Marston,” you complimented. He seemed proud of himself, regardless of his minuscule need for your help.

“Just exhale a little softer, and you’ve got it.” You added, slowly peeling your palms off his warm body. You took a step back when he got the hang of it. A low applauding whistle escaped your lips, a prideful grin escaping you as John relaxed into the water.

“Now kick your legs, gently.”

He followed your instructions, kicking lightly against the current and propelling himself to the opposite bank, towards his ratty old hat. You swam after him, splashing in the water until the both of you reached the opposite bank.

“Well I’ll be damned!” John rasped, going to kneel upon the soft gravel as water dripped off every inch of him. The droplets slipped down his cheeks and lay in his eyelashes. You decided then he was the most beautiful creature you ever had the pleasure to see.

“Well done. It’s a start, but at least now I’ll know you won’t drown.” You beamed, pulling your chemise slightly so it didn’t stick to your skin as it had earlier. “Couldn’t have done it without you, darlin’.” John added, rising from his knees and snatching his hat from the bank.

“You’re right, what would you do without me, Marston?” You teased, crouching into the water. You glanced at John through your eyelashes, water lapping down at your chin. “Would be a sorry life that’s for sure.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck at such a bold statement.

“Ready to head back?” You asked, coughing slightly at his stare, he’d been doing that a lot this evening. Staring, burning warm embers in your heart and scorching your skin.

“Out of the water? Hell yes. Back to camp? No.” He spoke, you happened to agree, enjoying the warm weather was one thing, but no robberies, shootouts, or annoying bickering was even better. A soft chuckle left your lips, as you began to trek towards the bank where Old Boy grazed upon fresh grass and wildflowers.

John followed after you, pushing against the waters with his hat now perched upon his head again, lower than he typically wore it. You stepped closer, almost unconsciously flicking his hat up so you could see his face.

“What’s up with your hat? Don’t you like to see when you walk?” You questioned, now loosely stepping onto the bank.

“Scars are ugly, don’t want you to see them.” He grunted, self loathing dipped on his tongue, his words made you frown. “You think that little of me?”

“I think you’re the best woman I know, which is why you shouldn’t be seen with an ugly bastard like me.”

You stopped in your tracks, putting the pieces together in your mind. This was why he never said anything. Why he never told you how he felt. He loathed himself, both inside and out.

He stopped a couple steps ahead of you, noticing that you weren’t following after him towards his horse.

“You’re far from an ugly bastard, John Marston. I mean it.” You insisted, voice soft with meaning. He seemed to disagree, yet didn’t push to argue. Instead he whistled low, alerting Old Boy. The Hungarian Halfbreed was more wild than tame, reminding you much of his handler.

“You hungry?” John asked, ruffling through his saddle bag as Old Boy nickered and pawed at the ground. You took a step forward, scratching the horse upon his whiskered chin.

“A little.” You offered, continuing to pat upon Old Boy as he pushed his head into your hand. “I don’t got much on me.” John grumbled. Water still dripped from his hair, falling upon his damp clothes that were tinted from the setting sun.

You watched as he pulled upon his bedroll in one fluid motion, laying it upon the soft grass facing the running river. In his other hand he held out a jar, intending on you to take it.

You held onto the jar with wide eyes, glancing at the contents with a surprised grin. “Not much? I haven’t had anything that wasn’t in a can or Pearson’s mystery stew in months!” You chirped, happily taking in the plump red raspberries that must have taken over an hour to pluck.

“They’re all yours, sweetheart.” John looked on with a joyful gleam on his features. “I got some bread and cheese I picked up in Valentine too. Figured I’d repay you for helping me.”

You popped a raspberry into your mouth, happily humming as the sweet juice coated your tongue. A pleasing chuckle left John’s chest as he pushed himself upon the blanket, sitting down with his long legs out in front of him. You were surprised when he slipped off his hat, allowing the sun to dance across his cheeks.

You sat upon the blanket next to him, holding the jar out to him as you slid closer to his body. He was surprising warm, even with wet clothes that cooled in the balmy evening.

“I told you they were yours.” He spoke, pushing the jar back towards yourself. You pouted, swallowing upon the berry before speaking. “I’d enjoy them far more if you ate with me.”

John playfully rolled his eyes, but grasped onto one of the raspberries and ate it anyways. “Had so damn many picking them, I wouldn’t be surprised if I turned red like one.” He admitted, a laugh in his tone. You choked out a giggle of your own, knowing the gunslinger always found a way to embarrass himself.

“You’re something else, John Marston.” Your voice was soft. Wrapped in velvet and warm like rich coffee.

“Yeah well, I can’t help that. Whenever I’m around you my head turns to clouds. I act a damn fool.” He let his heart bleed— finally, finally. A switch in your mind flipped, you’d decided you have waited long enough. Life in the gang, it was fun and spontaneous but you didn’t know how long you had, how long John had. Maybe a little push would do the two of you some good.

“I must be the bigger fool.” You spoke so low it was near a whisper. Inching forward, you cradled your head against his neck, happily hearing his intake of breath and taking in the scent of him— of gunpowder and river water.

After a short moment he relaxed, a large hand hesitantly falling to your waist, grasping softly upon the flesh of your hip. His head tilted downwards, scarred cheek nuzzling against the crown of your head. Intimate, lovingly.

“Why’s that?” His chest rumbled with the words, rattling against your own flesh.

“I’ve waited far too long to tell you how I feel.” You took the shot in the dark. His fingers halted the steady tracing amongst your waist, the soothing nature now diminished as he froze.

“You’re kidding?”

Your body was warm at his hopeful question, despite your confidence before, you avoided his stare, wanting, hoping, for him to admit he felt the same way as you.

“I’ve never lied to you, Marston.” The words were out before you could think better, but the steady exhale the man let out was felt against your side.

The pads of his fingers slid against your chin— Warm, rough and comforting, such as an intimate tether pulling the two of you together. You allowed him to maneuver your gaze to his own, a fire building in your gut as he did so.

“God, Darling, if I had known I would have done something about it earlier. Just didn’t think you’d want some washed up outlaw like me.”

You snorted, almost amused at how he managed to view himself. He was always so much more. “Who always brushed my horse after a ride? Or saved me from that one drunk in a saloon? Who bought me a way too expensive painting because I said it looked pretty? You’re the one I want John.”

Your heart pounded at the simple look he gave you, a sugary sweet gesture so full of adoration it had you nearly sick.

“I’ve loved you since I was a boy. I read those stupid romance novels you liked just so I could speak to you about them, hell I went and stole those lemon drop candies in the general store to impress you, nearly got me arr—.”

You cut him off with a long kiss. His lips sat in between your own in an awkward way, as if he wasn’t expecting it.

You pulled away at his hesitation, an apology on your lips, until his palm wrapped upon the back of your neck, his other hand pulling you easily upon his lap. He molded against your lips again, this time only sweetness fell from him. It was pure bliss, everything you’ve ever imagined, and even better when you felt his tongue brush against the seam of your lips, privately asking for permission to kiss you deeper.

You relented, opening yourself up like a winter bloom seeing the summer sun again. The taste of raspberry melted against your mouth, just as a happy sigh escaped you as John pulled away slightly. You became acutely aware of your position, the way you sat perched upon his lap, chest pressed against his own.

“I love you.” You spoke on a whisper, a hand falling to his damp and uncomfortable button-up.

“God darling, I’ve dreamt of you saying those words for years. I adore you.”

He spoke no more words, instead relying on his touch to display just how much he cared. It made your body ache in a fiery desire. You wanted him, you wanted him now.

“Then show me, like I always wanted you to.” You whimpered, words filled with so much promise John couldn’t hide the burning flames circling his eyes.

“You sure?”

“As I ever could be.”

His eyes darkened, yet still managed to keep the intimate expression along his features. The slight tinge of red upon his swollen lips, no doubt from the berries made him even more attractive. His hair damp and curling slightly amongst his neck, the scars that you wanted so badly to kiss.

He twisted, helping to wind your legs around his waist. You straddled him happily, just as he brought his lips to the corners of your own, placing a chaste peck before he swept lower. He latched hungrily to your jaw, then to the rapid pulse point of your neck.

Your intake of breath only seemed to amuse him more, as you could feel his crooked smirk print into your skin. Your hands found the seam of his shirt, quickly you made work of the buttons, happily finding solace against his bare chest patterned with a soft layer of hair.

He jerked at the feeling of your nails running down his skin, the motion causing a distinct hardness to grind against the plush flesh of your ass. A choked groan escaped his throat at the pressure, making you that much more eager to fully touch him.

His lips pulled away from the soft flesh of your collarbone, most likely already littered with lovebites.

“May I?” He gestured to your chemise with his large hands, asking if it was alright to remove the clothing. You were already pushing the dress over your head, relived to get the wet material off of you and replace it with the warmth of John’s skin.

You were in your most vulnerable state, purely bare and held captive to the stare of the man in front of you, yet you felt completely safe. He rutted against you, desperate to feel any friction you’d provide him against his clothed cock.

“You’re more beautiful than I ever imagined.” He complimented in a breathy voice, almost as if he was scared this was a dream. John rubbed his thumb against the swell of your breasts, watching in amusement as goosebumps littered the skin he touched.

“You’ve been imagining me, Marston?” You joked, gasping slightly as his fingers rolled than pinched on the bud of your nipple. “Since we was rowdy teenagers, Miss.” He rasped lowly, fingertips painting lines down your body like a canvas.

“You’re kidding?”

“Naw, not joking. Now hold on,” you braced your arms against his broad shoulders, feeling him grip onto the flesh of your hips as he laid you gently upon your back. The soft fur of his bedroll met your spine, warm the comforting. He’d paused for a moment, simply soaking up every detail, curve, and blemish of your body.

Then his eyes settled upon the region between your legs, already prepped and soaked with his searing kisses and adoring words. You were completely sweet on this man, and it wasn’t hard to see.

“All this just for me?” His palms danced alongside the inside of your thighs, until one of his fingers settled upon the opening of your sex, weeping and aroused. He only teased, gathering up the slick you provided. You jerked at the movement, fighting a gasp as you bucked up in an attempt to receive some sense of stimulation.

A little chuckle escaped him at the sign of your furrowed brows.

“Yes it’s all for you, how about you use it?” You whined out in frustration, nearly begging when he moved his hand just slightly out of reach of where you wanted him.

“Never seen you so impatient, sweetheart.”

“John, please, just touc- oh,” You were cut off by one of his fingers sinking into your cunt. It was such a pleasant shock that it had you hugging around his finger in a vice, a low moan left you at the full sensation, even John couldn’t withhold the throaty groan that left his lips at your open mouth and furrowed brows.

“That’s it, darling, stay laying back for me.” He directed, happily worming his way between your legs so that his upper body hovered over you. He curved his spine, allowing his lips to latch pleasantly with yours, swallowing your breaths of pleasure as he began to slowly pump his finger in and out.

He was acting as a honey bee, treating your cunt like the most precious flower petals that he’d ever nestle in. His pace was nectar sweet, yet you had to clench your teeth, for the sweetness coated your tongue had drowned any other thought than him.

John Marston. John Marston.

“I love you,” Was the only thing you could breathe between his scorching, yet soothing kisses, the only thing your very soul felt as he curled another digit inside you, hitting the very spot that had you gasping.

In your bliss you managed to guide your hand to his jeans, working slowly upon his buttons. He’d hummed at the loss of tight pressure when you unclamped the last one. He pulled his fingers away only slightly to shimmy his jeans down until he was just as bare as you were.

You grunted at the loss of his touch, blindly reached for him, not being able to look away from the absolute adoration that crossed his starry eyes. You visibly gulped when you felt the smooth flesh of his throbbing cock. Satisfaction broke out across his features, a smirk painting upon his lips when your mouth fell open at the steely size.

John was big, and he very well knew it.

Your hand firmly gripped upon his cock. While your fingers managed to wrap around his entire base— he was long, veins curling like an intricate painting weaving to his weeping head. He was so lengthy that you’d likely need two of your hands to grasp onto all of him. Your thumb trailed upwards pressing upon his head that was already leaking heavily. You smeared the lubricant down with a delicate pump.

You’d never heard him whine before, but the sound that mewled from his throat had you gaping in unadulterated shock and hunger.

He bucked against your hand, looking desperate and everything you’d ever need.

“Fuck, oh darling I…” he trailed off into another chorus of pleased groans as you stroked him, eyelashes fluttering upon his scarred cheeks as he gripped his nails into your hip. Surely he’d leave the skin black and blue, but you could care less.

You surged forward, fully attempting to lay John upon his back as he previously had for you. That way you could put his cock in the velvet wetness of your mouth and taste the river that clung to him.

His large hand settled upon your shoulder, halting you from tilting his body weight. “Not today, Angel, I want to take care of you. Maybe next time.”

“Next time?” You hushed, beyond joyful to know this wouldn’t be a one time thing.

“Sure, if that’s what you want.” He rasped, pecking sweet kisses over your face just like fresh raindrops falling after a long drought.

“I want you. Please, John.” You added, swinging your arm over the taut muscle at the back of his neck, the smile upon his lips was blisteringly large.

“Of course.”

His hand moved to meet yours, the very one that was settled upon his throbbing length. He took the reins, sliding his flushing head to meet against the slick that poured from your cunt in an abundance.

“It’s been a long time.” You warned airily, breath catching when he slid himself teasingly slow against your bundle of nerves.

“Since that one ranch hand?” John asked.

Shock coursed through you, He’d remembered? You couldn’t have been more than nineteen when you lost your virginity to that boy on the ranch.

“How… how did you know?” You stuttered, nearly gasping in shock at the look of jealously crashing across his expression.

“I was the one that beat him black and blue when he broke your heart, always was a jealous bastard.” He growled, lining himself up to your entrance once he felt he was slick enough.

“That don’t matter now, I’m all yours.” You whispered, swooping up to capture his lips in a chaste kiss, ironic for the dirty act the two of you were currently performing.

“That’s right. You ready?”

You nodded, just as John breached ever so slightly into your warmth. He’d let out a gentle gasp at the tight sensation, nudging ever so slightly as he studied your face for any detail of pain or discomfort. Your own mouth gaped open as he filled you, a twinge of discomfort wrinkled against your nose, which John happened to pick up on immediately.

He halted his hips, a quick apology on his lips. “Alright?”

“Yes, yes, just not used to uh- you’re big.” You stuttered out, face flushing in embarrassment. John surprised you again, he refrained from smirking or using teasing words. Instead his palm found your cheek, his finger effortlessly brushing a lock of hair beyond your ear.

“I’ll only move when you tell me to.” He comforted, thumb slowly painting strokes d across your cheek down to your swollen lips.

God, he was handsome. Most people fled when this outlaw approached, his scars only adding to his menacing aura, but this man— this man above you was nothing more than golden sunsets and wildflowers. He was everything you loved and more. His scars were pretty silver whips of moon, eyes freshly brewed coffee, and oh, his touch. Your body molded to him, relaxing and effortlessly yearning for more. More of him. Always more.

“Oh John, please move.” You whimpered, creaking your head to the side to kiss upon his circling thumb. He’d reacted slowly, doubt still swimming in his head, but he pushed anyways, bottoming out the hilt.

“God, you’re so tight.” He groaned out, hands now finding your hips as he straightened his back out just so he could pull you into him even deeper. Your legs wrapped around his waist, goosebumps of pleasure escaping the flesh as he pulled slightly out and pushed back in.

His name left your lips again, as if you were chanting a prayer. His eyes darkened significantly at your pleas, taking it as a sign to speed up. His hips clashed against your own, loudly and heavy like roaring thunder. You didn’t care, you were in your little slice of secluded paradise on the bank of the river.

A hand snaked upwards, securing to your breasts, he kneaded the flesh, happily rolling his thumb and index over your nipple.

He took you in, a hungry wolf that was looking for his last meal. He’d caught sudden interest to the soft recoil of your breast that moved with every one of his timed thrusts.

“You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?” He gasped, lips latching onto your neck as he buried himself even deeper into you. “You make me think so.” You whimpered when he suckled upon your neck, likely to leave a purple love mark to remind you of him.

His pace picked up, cock slipping easily out of you now that you were relaxed. Pleasure vibrated your very bones, so much that you could feel your stomach tightening in a burning coil that illustrated your oncoming orgasm.

“John, I’m close.” You breathed, words almost failed you from the simple nirvana you felt. He’d barely heard you over the sound of lewd squelching. Yet he could feel— feel the fluttering of your walls that clutched his cock so well, like a missing puzzle piece that he’d been searching for.

“Damn Angel, me too.” He growled. Sweat peppered his body like morning dew, still he pushed his body faster, chasing your orgasm as much as his own.

It all came undone when his thumb rolled gentle circles upon your clit, a moan leaving your lips as you clutched onto anything that you could grab. White hot pleasure rippled down your spine as you clenched around him.

“That’s it,” he guided, falling apart at the look of bliss that passed over your face. You’d never felt so whole, even when John stopped abruptly and left your welcoming walls. Warm seed spilled over your chest and stomach, covering you in his pleasure.

John nearly collapsed on top of you all in an exhaustingly pleased state. His chest heaved as he rolled on his side. Your own pants filled the air along with the soothing songs of cicadas and flowing water.

“You up for another dip? I need to clean up,” you hushed, eyes fluttering as his hands glided loving patterns across your bare skin.

“Sure, anything for you.”

#red dead redemption #rdr2 #John Marston #John Marston x reader #John Marston x you #red dead redemption 2

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