meds4sale | Open Post

He was, for a moment, reminded of Ochou's question to his other self nearly a century prior.

Are you certain you want me? You want a convicted criminal as a wife?

He answered all the same.

"Mm. Even knowing such things."

Arthur turned some more, enough to lean in and kiss the other man softly on the lips.

He hoped it was enough to let him know he was grateful.

He smiled, caressing the other's cheek before turning back around to let him finish washing him up.

It was enough. He pressed into the kiss, one hand still buried in Arthur's hair, the other trailing down his chest.

Even before seeing the posters, the Medicine Seller had no illusions about the other man; he'd shot the Murfrees like he'd done it dozens, if not hundreds of times. He'd gotten the measure of him fairly quickly.

He'd been quick and efficient, and hadn't seemed to take an ounce of pleasure in it.

There was a saying about idealists and cynics on the tip of his tongue, but that was, at the moment, preoccupied with probing Arthur's lips.

When the other man settled back, he finished rinsing out his hair, giving it a light pat-down with a towel before adding a bit of oil. Soap could be harsh on hair at even the best of times, and so it was good to help things along.

He'd hoped he was harder to read than that during those times, not wanting the-then stranger to get wind of his hefty bounty and end up coming after him. Even as a bear he didn't think he'd have a chance against someone who could make him see all the wrongs he'd done in his life with a puff of smoke.

Arthur allowed the pampering without further interruption, the care the medicine took with hair of all things was interesting but also accounted for the man's own long very well kept locks.

Once oiled up, he spun around once more. "My turn?" he asked, pressing a kiss against the man's lips.

It probably helped the Medicine Seller was supremely uninterested in money, distrustful of authority at the best of times, and had seen Arthur's better nature early on. The former two alone were enough to keep him from even considering betraying him, and the latter had him gladly deciding to remain at his side.

The Medicine Seller cradled his cheek as they kissed, his other hand on his shoulder as, once Arthur was turned, he could settle in his lap.

The water left him feeling warm and lazy, and Arthur was a solid and comfortable presence to lean into, and so he did, bare chest to Arthur's as he passed him the cloth.

"By all means, I am at your disposal."

Arthur would be grateful for that. With his death, he'd resolved to keep up what Sister Calderone had told him, and to avoid the law he had to keep under the radar as well.

Fortunately it seemed in this area of the world the only problems he'd had were with Murfrees, and even then hardly because they seemed just as terrified as anyone when a big fucking bear came charging at them.

As the medicine seller settled against him, Arthur started to wash him up, doing his best to take his time, running the newly lathered cloth over the man's shoulders and then chest.

"Just how old are you anyway? You talk as though you've lived for centuries."

Arthur's ministrations felt profoundly good - so much so that the Medicine Seller couldn't help but arch his back as a content sigh escaped him.

"A little longer than that, I think. I cannot put an exact number on it though."

He gathered his hair, pulling the damp mass aside so Arthur had better access. He let a hand fall under the hot water, gliding lazily along the inside of the other man's thigh.

"...Does that trouble you?"

Imagine being so old one couldn't recall how old. He thought Hosea and Dutch and uncle were old men but they were less than babies compared to this one.

"Nah, just curious." he said, running the cloth over one pec then the other, teasing a little bit over his nipples before making his way down to his belly.

"Was you always a fox, or was you human first?" he asked.

He watched the progress of the washcloth from under hooded lashes, nipples stiffening from the gentle attention. There had been a steady heat in his loins since Arthur had first brought him inside and kissed him, but it had been background noise to the dozens of louder emotions; joy, relief, curiosity, affection...

Lust had taken a bit of a backseat, but it seemed to be creeping towards the front.

"I began as a fox. Small and pale, I suppose my mother thought it kinder to leave me to the late frosts than the inevitable jaws of some beasts. Humans thought otherwise, and raised me first as a kit, and then a child when my form... changed."

Arthur listened to his tale, scrubbing slowly all the while, moving down to his thighs, avoiding between his legs for the time being. However he’d wrapped an arm around the medicine seller, fingers lightly teasing a nipple while he worked.

“Left by your mamma and raised by humans only to turn into a human? Sounds like quite a rough early start. What happened after?”

"It was quite gentle compared to many. I was loved and cared for and was able to learn many interesting things abo-"

His breath hitched, hips twitched and his head fell back with a pleased sigh, bearing his throat to Arthur. It had been a very long time since he'd given his youth much consideration, and he wasn't entirely sure if he could focus with the attention given to his sensitive thighs.

"-about herbalism and hunting," he finished, a touch breathlessly.

"I started traveling when I was grown, returned every few years to visit. But eventually, there was nothing left to visit."

Arthur pressed a kiss to the man's shoulder, letting up on the teasing to hear more about the other's past. He had him sit up to work on his back next, shifting his long hair over to one side to keep it from getting soapy just yet.

"Nothing? Was people leavin', or dyin'?" he asked

"Both; the first because of the second."

He let Arthur work, falling quiet for a time. It had been so long ago, the memory felt dim and distant.

"I met someone who had managed to leave - some manner of plague had taken most of them. If I recall the symptoms correctly, I think it was smallpox."

"That's hard." he said, rinsing the cloth and setting it aside before washing all the suds off the medicine seller's skin.

"Been through some places that up and lost their populations. Ghost towns. Strange to see time itself stands still in them sorts of places. Colter was an abandoned mining town we stayed in during May, think if we wasn't half starved and frozen all that time we would have been unsettled more by it all. And I passed through what was probably the smallest town I ever saw, Pleasance, down in Lemonye awhile after our first meetin'. No idea for sure how they was run out. Might have been plague, or they was all murdered for worshipping the Devil. No one around there talks of them and place gave me the creeps so I didn't linger too long to find out."

Arthur then got to work on the other's hair, having him get it soaked through and then worked the soap in turn.

"Lost my momma when I was young, remember very little of her, though she was kind. My daddy were a cruel son of a bitch, and saw him swing when I was eleven. Did your parents make it?"

"This was well past their time," he explained, one of the many peculiarities to his longevity.

"Other children I had grown up with were grandparents and great grandparents when the village was decimated. It does not make it any better, but it was... less personal."

With his hair soaked, he let the tension out of his shoulders, letting Arthur work as he gave a soft stroke to the other man's cheek.

"Is that when you joined up with your gang...?" he asked.

"After your father died, that is."

Arthur leaned into the gentle caress, kissing the other's knuckles then going back to massaging soap deep into his scalp and then through his hair down to the ends.

"Little afterwards. Was fourteen when I tried to steal from Dutch and Hosea, they decided they liked this scrappy brat and took me under their wings into a life of crime." he smiled at the long ago memories.

"They taught me a lot. How to read and write, ride, shoot, almost everythin' I learned I learned from them. It was good in the beginning. We fancied ourselves the American Robin Hoods, robbin' from rich folk, using just enough to keep clothes on our backs and food in our bellies, then the rest we gave to those on the street."

His body lax as the other man worked his fingers through his hair, his eyes closed as he wrung another contented sigh out of him, the Medicine Seller was practically putty in Arthur's hands as he listened.

It sounded like these men - Dutch and Hosea - were essentially the parents Arthur never had.

But Arthur had said that Dutch had left him to die...

"What changed?"

Because obviously something had taken a sour turn at some point.

Arthur paused at the question, then continued to run his suds-covered hands through the other's hair, working the soap deep and thorough, much better at it compared to when they first bathed together in the river.

"Even after months of thinkin' on it, I ain't sure to be honest. Maybe it started in Blackwater when Dutch killed a woman in cold blood. Maybe further back and I just didn't see the signs. We was a small group for a long time, just the three of us. We didn't pick up John until after..."

He paused again, rising off his hands and began to rinse the other's hair out, having him lay back a bit in order to do so.

"When I was twenty two, I met a girl, Eliza, waitress at a place we often visited. We got on fine, more than fine...Well, long story short, she got pregnant. Kept the baby despite knowin' what I was and that I couldn't be there for her all the time. I weren't the settlin' sort, and the gang and loyalty to stayin' with it meant more to me than a kid. Still, did what I could, stopped by whenever we was in the area, gave her money and things when the boy was born."

Arthur's voice kept him feeling grounded, that perhaps if the other man weren't speaking, the Medicine Seller would dreamily drift off.

Instead, he was able to focus on Arthur's tale. Eliza and the child were, obviously, not in the picture. He recalled him motioning that he had lost a wife and child at some point.

He also knew gangs tended to harm family and friends of those members who were out of line.

"She must have loved you dearly," he said, leaning into Arthur's touch.

"Was that the beginning of the schism between you and Dutch?"

"No, wasn't the beginning. As for Eliza, maybe she loved me, don't know for sure, we cared for one another but, my whole being was for the gang and she knew it. She and Isaac, the boy, were robbed and killed some years later. Came back one time and found two crosses outside the house. Learned from a neighbor what happened. Solidified my loyalty to the gang even more. Then, later, I met Mary."

Arthur finished washing the soap from the medicine seller's hair, pressed a kiss to his shoulder and wrapped an arm around him.

"She was a woman of high breedin' you might say, her parents hated me, her father especially, knew what I was. Still, we was in love, for a long time. And after what happened with Eliza, I didn't want to feel that heartache again. Hosea had left the gang for a time, married, figured it was okay for me to do the same. Dutch never protested. So, I asked Mary to marry me." he smiled. "We was young and happy, looking foreword to livin' together and all that. But, of course, great ol' dad weaseled his way in. I couldn't provide for her, spent every dime of my money on that ring and he knew it. Mary eventually relented and well, we broke."

Arthur sighed and sat back with the other man in his arms.

"After that I swore to myself to keep to the gang. Only thing that mattered. Only loyalty mattered. Was my undoing I guess. Blackwater might have been the start of things between Dutch and I, but I didn't see it for myself until it was too late. Until he strangled an old woman, until he walked away from helpin' me when I was a knife's edge from death, until he gave up John for dead, until he refused to help Abigail..."

Resting his arm on the edge of the tub, he dipped his fingers in the soapy water, still warm enough but they'd have to get out soon. "Weren't until that day we last met that I knew loyalty and so many years beside him didn't matter no more."

With his hair done, the Medicine Seller turned on his side to circle his arm around Arthur's shoulders, giving him something to pillow his head on. His other hand came to rest gently on the arm around his waist, trailing his fingers over the damp hairs.

"An endless string of hardships, it seems."

Every time Arthur's life seemed to take a turn for the better, something had to come along and destroy it. His first marriage, his near second, the very gang he devoted himself to...

No wonder he had come to this cool and quiet region. Just a little peace for once in his life.

"...It sounds as though Dutch took a flying leap off the pedestal he put himself on."

He gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, before reaching for one of the towels to start dabbing dry the upper half of Arthur that wasn't in the water.

The warmth was starting to turn tepid, and would soon be not quite enough to counter the cool air of the cabin, and bathtime would soon be over. A shame, but then he could put another log on the fire and they could spend a nice, peaceful evening keeping warm.

"Maybe. Maybe I just dug around the flat rock he'd sat down on and kept digging until I was in my own grave." he sighed.

He allowed the drying, gaze miles away.

"I often thought about going to look for him yea know. See what he has to say to a ghost. Almost did, the day after I buried Hamish. Thought about taking Buell and going out into the world to find Dutch, see what sort of hand life had dealt him after he left me behind."

Slowly Arthur sat up and got out of the tub, taking the towel and working to dry himself off so he wasn't dripping over everything and then held one open to the medicine seller.

Once wrapped up, he pulled him close.

"But I'd rather spend whatever time I got with you, for as long as you'll have me."

"A much more apt metaphor," he agreed, wringing out his hair before stepping out the tub and into the towel. The Medicine Seller leaned into the embrace, arms wrapping around Arthur's shoulders.

"And yet, by some miracle, you have managed to crawl out your grave."

He lay his head in the curve under the other man's chin, eyes drifting shut for a moment. Arthur's pulse was there and real.

"...And that could be for a very long time, Arthur. I do not say I will stay lightly."

Arthur stroked his back, resting his head atop the other's own.

"Then we'll play it by ear, and if one day we find we're sick of one another, well, then we'll see."

He pressed a kiss against his forehead.

He spent some time quietly listening to the life coursing through his veins. Maybe Arthur's days were still numbered, but the count had surely shifted a bit higher than when they met for what the Medicine Seller had thought may be the last time.

"How very Zen," he mused, one hand trailing along Arthur's arm. A wind outside stirred, sending a small susurrus of snowflakes against the window. A heavy snowfall had set in and he wasn't sure if the shiver that went through his body was from the chill or the kiss to his forehead.

Pressing a kiss to the dip in Arthur's collarbone, he peered up at him.

"Shall I put another log on the fire...?"

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