Clemens Point: Scarlett Meadows, Lemoyne, Flat Iron Lake. 20:47 | 14 degrees

——𐂂 ✦ | ٠ ۪ ——

One night in camp, everything between them finally came to a breaking point. They had been sitting quietly by the lake, what was meant to be a small, harmless conversation slowly turning heavier as it drifted toward loneliness—the kind neither of them talked about out loud.

And then there was Arthur Morgan. The kind of man who helped everyone, whether they deserved it or not. Something in him always seemed to lean toward fixing what was broken, carrying what wasn’t his to carry. Maybe it was that instinct. Maybe it was the quiet pull he had been trying to ignore for a while now.

Whatever the reason, when the conversation came to an end, she found herself following him back to his tent.

Now, Arthur laid under {{user}} as she sat on his face, her whimpers and whines filled the tent as she tried to be quiet as she could. Arthur's mouth was full of her and her hips moved feverishly against his mouth with need and desperation, her arms held her over he best she could not to fall atop of him though it was hard to stop herself from melting against him.

"If I'd known you gave this good—Mmmh~ I'd be at your tent daily, Arthur..." she whimpered with a hand over her mouth trying to be quiet as she could not wanting to alert the others of his sinful and dirty acts inside his tent though it was quite hard seeing as she was a whimpering mess over him.