Getting shot almost seemed preferable to this; the pain of a hot bullet tearing through his skin and muscle was nothing compared to the throbbing, aching need between his legs.

"Sweetheart...please" he practically growled into your ear as he ground his erection into your ass, your hips thrust needily back into him.

"Arthur... we agreed..." a breathy moan escaping your lips only fuelling his desire more as he slips two fingers between your folds, finding your clit easily and pressing lightly against it.

"I can feel how soaked you are, you want this as badly as I do. Let me help relieve the ache, I'll make you feel so good darlin'."

You were beginning to regret the decision to wait until your wedding night to finally have sex again. In the beginning, it hadn't been so bad and had almost seemed exciting, knowing you would have something 'unique' about your wedding night since you weren't exactly a virgin. But as the days began to drag on you realized what a mammoth task resisting Arthur's advances turned out to be.

When he wasn't eating you alive with his eyes, he was touching you at every opportunity he could, his hands becoming more lingering and forceful, pushing you up against the table as you prepared food, or pulling you to his lap the minute Tris was free from your arms. John and Charles knew something was up as he grew increasingly snappy, the frustration of so many wasted erections wearing down his patience.

"Arthur, you can't take it out on the guys." You'd chuckled one day after dodging his advances in the kitchen and then proceeding to witness him scream at John for 'walking too loudly'.

"It's bad enough he eats like a goddamn horse, he doesn't have to walk like one too." He grumbles, pouting like a spoilt child. You notice his knee bouncing anxiously as he sits before, he stands so quickly you flinch at the sudden movement. "Did Charles move my hunting knife? CHARLES, I TOLD YOU NOT TO MOVE MY GODDAMN KNIFE!"

You cover Tris's ears playfully as you watch him stomp away, no doubt on his way to pick a fight with Charles or John, you can't help but smile to yourself at Arthur's blue-ball-driven tantrum. "I guess daddy is regretting agreeing to our deal huh sweet pea?"

Arthur practically vibrated with tension constantly. He wanted to respect your wishes he really did but he'd underestimated his ability to stay control himself after so long apart. It had gotten to the point he could no longer be in the room when you fed Tris, his sex-starved brain filling his mind with the filthiest of thoughts, thoughts he didn't want to have with his daughter close by. On top of the thoughts, he was constantly dealing with his erections, like a teenager hitting puberty he grew hard from something as simple as you bending down in front of him. On more than one occasion this had happened with Charles and John, and worse still, Abigail, in the room; each time he'd quickly grunt an excuse to leave, fleeing to the back barn to relieve himself.

The man was a wreck.

And so, this morning as you lay tucked against his chest, he reached the end of his patience, feeling you grind back against him in your sleep.

He resisted as long as he could, repeating in his head that he could do this, just two more days to go, but as you softly whimpered and ground back against him again, he realized you were just as horny as he was, and the sounds of your soft whimpers shattered any mental walls he'd hoped to build.

"Fuck this." He muttered, before pulling your hips tight against his cock, sighing instantly at the pressure against him, but it wasn't enough, he needed relief and by now you'd slowly started to wake, your groggy mind enjoying the feel of Arthur rutting against your ass.

"Sweetheart...Please."

"Arthur...we agreed.''

Feeling how wet you were Arthur continued to circle your clit gently, dipping down to tease your entrance every so often and to gather your wetness, not quite entering you and leaving you wanting.

"A-Arthur d-don't tease..." he heard you stumble over his name, and he knew he had you where he wanted, your body now fully awake and desperate for his touch.

Flipping you onto your back he crawls on top, pinning your arms above your head and pulling your thigh high above his hip, stretching you open for him.

"Tell me you want this sweetheart." He grinds his cock against your entrance, coating himself in your slick and throwing his head back at the feeling. "Fff-uh-uck, I know you do but you have to say it for me."

"P-please Arthur, I need you."

You're practically begging him to fuck you, and he's already so close to cumming, but he still needs to hear you say it. He grips your thigh tighter in his hand, sure to leave bruises but he knows you won't care.

"Say it y/n. I need you to say it."

"Fuck Arthur please, fuck me, I need you." You whine against his lips, your eyes rolling back with each pass of his cock against your clit.

An animalistic raw leaves Arthur's throat as you finally give him permission. Burying his face against your throat he draws his hips back, your wetness allowing him to easily slip to your entrance without the use of his hand.

"Uncle Arthur? Daddy says you have to come fishing with us!"

Arthur audibly groans into your neck at the sound of Jack's voice beyond the bedroom door, his throbbing tip so close to sinking into your core.

"I-I'm a little busy Jack," Arthur growls through his teeth, feeling you grind against him and making him hiss.

"Arthur!? You in there? We gotta go now or we won't catch anything for dinner." John's voice joins his son's outside of the door.

"I said... I'm BUSY!" Arthur sits back on his knees, turning to yell at the door.

"I don't give a shit! We gotta go!"

You drop your head back in despair, the mood definitely ruined thanks to the little intrusion. Arthur runs his hand down his face, his erection still painfully hard in front of him. "I'm sorry sweetheart, I gotta go."

He leans over you and draws you in for a quick kiss, his lips lingering against yours, yearning to continue what you'd both started.

"Arthur?" John calls again.

"I'M COMING!" Arthur's yell making you jump, the wound-up tension in him close to reaching a boiling point, you worried how safe it was for John to be out on open water with Arthur right now.

With jerky movements, Arthur shakes on his clothes, slamming his hat angrily to his head with a huff.

"I'll see you later." He sighs, bidding you farewell with a kiss to your forehead.

Taking one last, longing look at you on the bed he turns and wrenches the door open with such force, it's a wonder how it doesn't tear from its hinges. John's smirking face greets him and it takes everything in his power not to punch his brother, reminding himself that you and Jack are still present.

"You are a dead man walking John Marston," Arthur growls, shouldering John out of the way as he heads out.