A/N: So, little warning here ! This is basically a chapter with Dutch and Margaret doin' the nasty (or the ring dang doo, as you like lol) and it's quite graphic (at least I think so…) Hope you'll like it, this is only my second attempt at smut :)

Chapter 2

"Settle down ya goddamn bitch !" He growled, punching her in the throat. Now, she had been through a lot in her life, couple of bullets here and there. That particular hit made her think she was going to die right on the spot. The pain was so unusual and raw, it was a strange sensation, not one she was keen on feeling ever again. If she survived the night that is.

A new pair of strong hands gripped Clarence's shirt and sent him flying on a bunch of crates that broke in the process, letting escape what seemed like apples.

"Back off you fucking piece of trash !" Margaret could barely recognise Dutch's voice there, not so much because of the dizziness, but because it was the first time she heard him scream like this.

"You're gonna regret puttin' your filthy hands upon that girl, I swear." He didn't let him the time to register what was going on and it was soon raining fists on the other man's face.

Dutch's gold rings were literally ripping pieces of skin, not that anyone other than Clarence minded.

"D- Dutch !" Margaret managed, "Dutch stop, I think he got the message"

"You what ?" He left his head to look at her, confusion written all over it

"We don't wanna have you wanted for another murder now, do we. C'mon he's had enough".

If it was up to him he would beat him to death, but she was right, word travelled fast in towns, adding one more crime to his already well furnished resume was the last thing the gang needed. Dutch brought the man close by his collar, he was nearly unconscious

"Now, I see you within a fucking State from here, even she won't be able to stop me, you hear you little shit ? I want you gone, this is the first and last warning." With that he shoved him back on the grass and didn't forget to spit on his face. He rushed straight to Margaret, helping her up.

"I'm sorry I didn't arrive sooner, real sorry" he apologised, checking her face for any bruises

"Well, you arrived, that's what matters. Thank you, Dutch, really."

"You okay ?" He asked, obvious concern in his voice

"God, what a fuckin' idiot ! How the hell did I not see this ?! He played me like a goddamn firstie." The young woman cursed, holding her throat and coughing.

"C'mon, it weren't your fault Margaret" Dutch washed the blood off his hands in a barrel of water and then he and Margaret joined the main street where thankfully, no one's attention had been drawn. It was quieter now, most people who came to Valentine weren't from here and the majority had left. In the saloon it was still pretty animated though, after all it wasn't that late. Poker games could go on till the morning.

Margaret checked her hands and clothes, she was a complete mess, there was mud all over.

"Hum, I'm sorry, I think I really need a bath…again" she admitted, stopping in the middle of the road

"Oh that's no trouble. No no, I've got this" he saw her reach for her pockets and stopped her.

"Okay for the bath but you're not paying for my clothes" Dutch looked her up and down. Her shirt was ripped in some places and her pants were completely ruined by the mud. Bathing and wearing those again would have been a crime.

"Oh no, I am, my dear" he insisted

"Dutch-"

"Margaret ?" He had already won the fight before it even began

"All right, screw you" Margaret cursed

"You're very welcome, my dear" he gave her a cocky smile, that cocky smile.

Although he told her not to worry about the prices, she picked standard items. Dark pants and a light blue shirt with discret stripes on it. Then they entered the hotel, stammered and blushed when the innkeeper asked them if they required a room for the night, and then Dutch paid and gave Margaret some privacy.

What a day, the latter thought as she descended into the almost too hot water. What a fucking day. And she had hoped a few days with the gang was going to be a form of vacation. Needless to say that things rarely went as planned. For now at least she enjoyed the feeling of the hot water against her skin and the scent in the room.

At the same moment Dutch was smoking upstairs on the balcony, the air was warm against his face, he liked that weather. In this moment of peace he was trying to prevent his mind from wondering over to miss Burns. He failed. His gaze fell to the floor, yep, she was right below him. The memory of her taking care of him in that bath popped out of course, it was a long time ago but he remembered it as if it were yesterday. Oh how he wanted to do the same for her right now, to soothe her like she had him. A selfish thought really, because the way things had gone earlier, surely the hands of a man all over her naked body was the last thing she needed at the moment.

His cigar had been long consummated when the door behind him opened. Margaret had her fresh clothes on. They were simple, but it didn't matter, Dutch thought she looked beautiful. The top buttons of her shirt were undone and she had slipped her bandana around her neck, to hide the marks.

"I was told you were up here" she said, leaning on the wooden fence next to him. They didn't need to talk, they never had to. The other's presence was well enough. Together they had done it all, been everywhere, seen everything, done everything - well, that wasn't exactly true, there was one thing they hadn't done…It was not something they thought about though, even if every body else did. In the past they had enjoyed keeping folks in the dark concerning their relationship, laughing when someone called them husband and wife. Even at the camp, one time Margaret had asked Charles why everyone was acting so funny around her, wanting to help and take care of her. The look on her face when he had told her it was because they were certain her and Dutch were a thing.

It's not that they weren't attracted to one another, Margaret was a pretty young woman, and Dutch - well, very few were the people who didn't fall for the old Dutch charm.

Yet, they had both managed to keep it in their pants somehow, never seeking to start anything.

Nothing had changed between them, and yet something felt different, at least for Dutch. He had had a few thoughts lately, seeing in her more than just a sidekick. Since she had come back, his eyes had often been searching for her around the camp, for the simple purpose of seeing her, see what she was doing. And when his pupils finally found her he was just happy, relieved that she was really here. He cared for her a great deal, this was obvious to anyone who cared to look. This care had grown into admiration, and then…he wasn't sure he could or should put a word on it.

There was a sound of glass crashing just outside the saloon, then two men when exited screaming and started to throw punches in the air. It was quite ridiculous but fun nonetheless.

"Men" Margaret smirked

"Can't argue on that." Dutch looked the opposite way as he didn't want to have to look at her when he next spoke. "So, before I arrived, where you plannin' on…doin' anything with that feller ? I mean, if he wasn't who he was, of course ?" He mumbled, eyes still looking away. Margaret wasn't blind, and honestly, she found that little show of jealousy rather cute. She didn't know Dutch had it in him.

"Mmmh, what if I was ?" She decided to play with him a little. Now, he hadn't planned on that question at all and found himself lost for words. To make sure he was properly embarrassed, Margaret threw him an insistent glare and decided she wouldn't let go until he returned it. At some point the latter realised there was no way out from this, he looked at her and simply shrugged. He was about to say something but she beat him to it, which he was thankful for. That prevented him from saying anything stupid in the heat of the moment.

"I'm just teasin' ya !" She laughed, patting him on the arm. "And no, I wasn't anyway, I already have a companion for the night" she reassured him. There was an awkward silence for a little moment before Margaret realised how that sounded.

"I mean - not like that…I didn't mean-" they both laughed and blushed at the same time. God, they felt like teenagers on a first date.

They kept silent after that, discreetly watching the other in the corner of the eye, until inevitable they looked at the same time for the briefest moment.

Dutch cleared his throat "Well, we should, hum, probably head back"

"Yeah, you're right, let's do that" Margaret agreed, her throat a little dry, and the strangling had nothing to do with it. On their way in he held the door and let her precede him. The door handle, which seemed a bit rusty, literally fell in his hand as he attempted to close the door

"Goddamn it, what a piece of shit !" He cursed, which only made the young woman snicker behind his back. The sounds of laughter were not lost on him and he cursed her too. After a few minutes of struggling, he managed to close the door completely and put the knob back in. It was practically hanging but if he was being honest, it was not his problem.

"Enjoying yourself, Miss ?" he asked in a displeased manner

"Oh, I am ! You didn't go easy on that door, did ya ?"

"Whatever do you mean ? I just pulled the damn thing and it fell in my hand. Ain't my fault if this is bad quality" he mumbled in his chin

"You're too strong a man for this poor world, Dutch van der Linde" Margaret mocked him as she innocently tapped her hands on his pectorals. It was no longer innocent when for some reason she rested her palms there, feeling his heart beating unnecessarily fast under his clothes. So many questions were visible in their eyes, and the answer was probably right there too. The fire that burnt in Dutch's chocolate brown irises was accentuated by the candle lights around, and Margaret didn't know where to settle her own on this handsome face of his. His features, usually hard and authoritative, had gone completely soft. Instinctively, he placed a careful hand on her waist and Margaret naturally went with it.

When they kissed it wasn't planned, or calculated, they had just fallen into it in the most normal way. The tenderness of it was very unusual, they hadn't felt this in years, and were not complaining about it. However, Dutch, not exactly sure this was what she wanted, attempted to pull back a little. Instinctively, Margaret moaned into his mouth, and her hands gently pulled at his waistcoat. At least now he was sure. That sound she had just made had triggered something inside him, and he didn't think he would be able to stop it. One thing was certain, he didn't want to.

More than a decade since they had first met, all there was to know about about each other, they knew it. Except for this. The feel of their lips as they came together, the wet sound of their tongues as they battled for dominance. Oh what a sweet sound that was. Turns out there were many things they had not yet shared in all those years, Dutch realised. And the night had barely just begun.

Margaret lifted his hat a little to deepen the kiss and started to push him back against a door. The thought of knocking before entering the room didn't even cross Dutch's mind as he pushed the door with his foot, pulling the young woman inside. It didn't take long for him to have her pinned against it. His hat was long gone, although he had taken the precaution of placing it on a chair, not throwing it on the other side of the bedroom. If one thing could be said about Dutch van der Linde, it's that he liked his things ordered. Especially his clothes. He was always smartly dressed, always the neatest guy in the room, and everybody noticed that. Margaret pulled back, taking a long look at him as she ran her hands on the expensive fabric of his clothes.

"Look at you Mr. fancy pants, with your gold chains, and your expensive waistcoats" she teased him, although if she was being honest, it was a huge turn on for her. That man was quite a unique specimen among outlaws, and Margaret had always liked that about him. After all who was she kidding, Dutch was a strong handsome man, there was no denying that and no resisting it. How had she managed all them years, she didn't know.

Eagerly, she started to unbutton his waistcoat, careful not to drop the chain. While doing so, her mouth trailed kisses along his neck, sucking tenderly at his Adam's apple. The deep growl that she got in return was more than she had hoped for and she felt something flutter in her stomach. Once the garment slid off his shoulders, she realised she had never seen anything as arousing as this man in suspenders. His shirt clung to him, revealing the shape of a toned and broad chest underneath, and leaving very little to the imagination. Actually there was something more arousing: him slowly sliding the braces down and opening his shirt as they hung from his hips. No matter how Dutch loved the burning look of her eyes on him right now, he was even more eager to explore this new thing between them. Oh, he was ready to give it to this woman. Whatever she asked from him.

The heavy gun belts were hanged on the bed post, and Dutch was happy to see she had kept the pistols he had offered her. The boots and socks followed closely after and were discarded on the floor. They didn't leave each other's eyes as they took the garments off, one piece at a time. And when Margaret opened her shirt halfway down, letting just the valley of her breasts showing, Dutch could only reach out for her. However, as he should have suspected, she did not surrender to him that easily. Instead she grabbed his wicked hand and placed it at his side before walking behind him. From there, she circled his midsection to undo the buttons of his trousers. The feel of her capable hands so close to his manhood, Dutch thought, was going to be his undoing, and Margaret wasn't surprised to find him already rock hard when she ridded him of his underpants as well.

For some reasons, when he turned to look at her and that her eyes inspected him, his breathing increased with speed. She had seen it all before, all of him, but not under these circumstances. Not to do the things they were about to do.

Soon enough, there were no piece of clothing left on either of them and they had climbed on the bedsheets. Under the cool lights of the candles, their shadows were dancing on the walls. Just two figures in the night, and nothing else. Dutch didn't waste any time in resuming their activities, kissing her passionately, breathing hard against her skin. He lingered on her neck, where the red marks of strangulation were still showing. With each kiss he made them disappear, leaving his very own soothing mark and making Margaret moan his name. Overwhelmed, that was how she felt lying under Dutch's imposing form as he ravished her. His skin was hot against her own, and she couldn't remember anything as comfortable as his full body on top of hers. His fingers explored her, descending from her collarbones to her breasts, to end up wandering between her legs. He parted them, slightly enough to slip one finger in her wet folds. Then two. Margaret squirmed under him, trying to get the most of his practised hand. Dutch plundered her ever so slowly, curling his fingers inside her, making her legs shake frantically and her pelvis jerk upwards. He withdrew then, licking her nectar from his digits while looking her dead in the eye. As he levelled up with her again, his cock was twitching against her clit and Margaret, still under the adrenaline of the fingering session, found nothing better to do but take him in hand and slide him against her wetness to satiate her burning needs. She rubbed against him like a desperate wild creature, which was a hell of a sight if Dutch was being quite honest. Good Lord, he thought, if he wasn't a slave to his own needs at this very moment, he would have watched her move endlessly. But he was only a man.

In a very Dutchly manner, he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head, lifting his hips just enough so that she couldn't rub against him no more.

"Tell me you want it" he grunted, having trouble restraining himself too. At first she didn't respond, to busy trying to get out of his hold. "Tell me you want it, Margaret" he repeated next to her ear, his deep voice vibrating through her entire body.

"I want you, Dutch. God, I want you inside me !" She whimpered.

Her few words was all Dutch needed and he slid into her, inch by torturous inch so that she felt absolutely everything.

"Good Girl.." He hissed through his teeth, enjoying the feel of her around him. The young woman wiggled about, adjusting to his size. He was not exceedingly long but God, was he big, even for her. They started at a slow rhythm, building their pleasure, although Margaret's pleasure was quite built up already and it wouldn't take long for her to orgasm.

If there was something to be said about Dutch while he made love, it's that he was loud. Really loud. Long moans, grunts, sweet nothings to her ear, you name it. Margaret liked it more than she cared to admit.

The gang leader had released her hands and they had started feasting on his flesh on their own accord, roaming through the dark hair on his chest and then gripping at his biceps. When she felt her release was imminent, she didn't waste any time to prop herself up and push him backwards until he was sitting back on his heels and she was straddling him. They were sweating at this point, their skin glistening in the reddish light of the room. And then Margaret felt it, a series of spasms when her sex contracted around him. Dutch made the mistake of looking down to where their bodies joined and saw himself buried deep inside her. It was truly a beautiful sight. Perhaps too beautiful, because he felt his balls clench dangerously. He stilled himself for a moment, not wanting to end the moment just yet. A high-pitched cry of pleasure coming from his partner brought his attention back up.

Their eyes connected in that moment and Margaret caressed his face tenderly, yet possessively, brushing his strong jawline with her fingernails. An intimate gesture that he hadn't expected and that nearly brought him over the edge right here and there. God, what this woman did to him. Keeping his composure was now definitively off the menu.

Without a word, he flipped her around and took her from behind with reckless abandon. It wasn't rough but it wasn't the most tender lovemaking either. They both were passed that. Feeling that he missed the closeness, Dutch circled her stomach with one strong arm and pulled her back against his chest, kissing and biting the side of her neck as she held on for dear life to the headboard. There was now a certain urgency in the way he fucked her. Not because he wanted it to end quickly, but because he just couldn't hold it anymore. A few more strokes and he spilled his load inside her, his member pulsating as he rode out his orgasm.

The two lovers remained like this for a little while, Dutch still inside her, his chest rising and falling against her back. A few minutes later, they laid facing each other on the bed, sedated and exhilarated.

"I never really thanked you," Dutch started, "for savin' all our sorry ass' yesterday". Margaret waved his words away

"Oh come on, now. T'was the least I could do Dutch." She took his hand in hers, and Dutch kissed it, his eyes focusing on the bracelet around her wrist.

"You used to make those, right ?" Margaret hummed in approval, "Would you make me one ?"

"Course ! How d'you want it ?" Dutch thought for a moment, laying on his back and searching the ceiling for an answer he didn't find. He turned his head towards Margaret

"Just…put a lil' bit of you in it"

"There's a little bit of me in everythin' I do, Dutch"

"Mmh mmh, and now there's a little bit of me in you too !" He joked as he went to kiss her

"Oh, you nasty silver tongued bastard !" Margaret said, playfully pushing the man away yet unable to contain her laughter.

It occurred to them that they had not payed for the room as they climbed down the stairs, but the innkeeper was understanding, as long as they paid in the end.

The ride back to camp was quiet, just a couple of complicit glances here and there. The moon was still up and full, it was barely one or two hours after midnight. Margaret explained to Dutch that's she would be heading to the Grizzlies when the sun would rise, to look for her brother. The man's smile disappeared from his face but he understood. Although he wasn't really sure how he felt about letting her scavenge in those mountains on her own. They were one of the most dangerous area of the State, and not just because of the weather.

The hitched their horses quietly, everyone seemed to be sound asleep. When the moment came for them to part ways to their given tents, they didn't know how they were supposed to say goodnight to each other. Should they kiss ? If yes, on the cheek or on the lips ? Or maybe they should just wave at each other, in case there were prying eyes about the place… To hell with it, Dutch thought as he pulled Margaret against him and found her mouth with his. It felt like a goodbye kiss. Not the I'll-see-you-tomorrow kinda goodbye kiss though.

Very early in the morning, Margaret found Hosea by the fire, making coffee. He had planned on going hunting, as usual, though she didn't think he would get up this early. The sun was barely showing above the mountains. They had breakfast together and he told her more stories of course.

Her belongings were packed on her horse already, there was just one thing she needed to do. After hugging with Hosea, she got a little something out from her pocket. A freshly made bracelet for Dutch. She had built it during the night as she had found it very hard to sleep.

"Give it to him when he wakes up, will ya ?"

"Of course, dear" the old man said as he waved at her with a heavy heart.

Footsteps made their way towards him quickly. Dutch. He was just a few seconds late, Margaret was already under the path of trees. He watched her as she rode away, his eyes unable to detach themselves from her. He loved that woman, that much was now certain. And for that reason he had to let her go. The only thing he could do now was hoping for her to return, but for that she had to survive the mountains and this, this was not an easy thing to do, even for Margaret Burns.