Red Dead Redemption 2 Oneshots & Headcanons

𝐀 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 - 𝐉𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐅!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

request: Javier pleasures himself to the sight of reader bathing in a river

rating:
voyeurism
word count: 3.8k

     It had been a long ride, the one from Colter to Horseshoe Overlook. You were all sick of the snow, and by the time you'd reached the rolling hills of the Heartlands, you were all sick of eachother. You loved everyone dearly, but you valued your alone time, and you'd had none since you'd all fled Blackwater. Thus, you'd allowed yourself an early night in hopes of feeling more personable come the new day.

You woke up to the sunlight pouring in through the small holes of the thin canvas of your tent. It'd been ripped on the way down from Colter, though you didn't mind, the air was far warmer down here. You took a second to let your eyes adjust to the new light before sitting up with a contented groan. You'd had the best night's sleep in weeks. Finally, you felt safe, or as far as that word went considering the life you lead.

Apart from the notion of safety, you only had two things on your mind; the first being coffee, and the second being some form of a bath. You hadn't had the energy to go into Valentine the night you'd arrived, you'd pretty much just had a bowl of stew and hit the hay. That and, you didn't quite feel like spending the night alone in a completely new town.

After a good stretch, you stood. You could hear most of the gang outside your tent already going about their days; you had allowed yourself to sleep in after all, screw whatever lip Ms Grimshaw would surely give you. You picked your blouse up off the end of your cot and threaded your arms through it, not bothering to fully button it considering you weren't planning on being in it much longer.

Your skirt was next, you stepped into it and pulled it up over your hips, tucking your blouse in as you did. Finally, you pulled on and laced up your boots. It felt like a lot, but you weren't and didn't think you'd ever be at the stage of waltzing out in your undergarments like some of the others did. You'd been with the gang for the best part of a year, and though you'd always been a bit of a temptress, you didn't want their eyes to linger on you.

No eyes, except Javier's.

You'd had a one night stand with him before the whole Blackwater mess. The flirting had been incessant; glances through the flames of the campfire late at night, cigarettes shared on the outskirts of camp as you overlooked the town, guard duty scheduled for the same times. The list went on, each new opportunity only increasing the sexual tension.

One evening when everyone had gone to sleep and he was alone at the campfire, you'd pushed open the flap of your tent and seductively beckoned him inside. You'd never seen Javier jump to his feet so fast, he was ravenous. Next thing you knew you were naked under him and he was balls deep with a hand over your mouth to mute your cries.

Your heart had yearned for more of the Mexican revolutionary ever since, but running, hiding and damn near freezing to death didn't leave much room for either of your carnal desires. And now, your tent was slap-bang in the middle of camp, just off from Dutch and Arthur's. You'd be damned if you were to sneak Javier in again and risk two of the most influential members of the gang hearing you.

You weren't sure how you felt about a real relationship. You'd have no problem committing to one, but you feared for the day of a possible breakup. You'd have to move on with life as though you weren't reminded of what you'd had every time you crossed paths or shared a glance. Cutting yourself loose would almost be preferable.