Dutch had pulled Arthur aside from the gathering, claiming they needed to talk strategy about their next score. But the moment they were alone, the air thickened with something, a strange sort of tension. Heavy with words unspoken and the way Dutch's gaze traveled over Arthur's body slowly before his eyes moved up to meet his, the glow of the cigar casting faintly across his face, the moonlight a glint in his eye.

Dutch's eyes lingered for much too long as Arthur leaned against the tree, arms crossed over his broad chest. The younger man had filled out these past months. The stubble on his face darkened, the hair on his arms and on his chest that was peeking from the open collar of his shirt thickening. Shoulders wider, frame taller and more imposing, limbs thicker and toned with the kind of rugged strength that came from plenty of hard work, hard riding and even harder fights.

His shirt stretched across a chest that rose and fell steadily, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms corded with developing muscle. Those big hands rested loose at his sides, scarred knuckles catching the firelight. His special boy. His handsome boy. His beloved son. He was truly becoming a man, all thanks to his nurturing and guidance.

Arthur caught Dutch's look when he realized his eyes had never left him since they got over here. "Everythin' alright, Dutch?" He spoke up. He hoped he hadn't done anything wrong. He doesn't like making his leader, his father, upset.

"You've been changing, son," Dutch said, his voice dropping low and smooth like velvet over gravel. He stepped closer, slow, deliberate. "You're growing into a fine young man. Strong. Handsome as all hell. That jaw, those arms and shoulders… will be sure to make a woman take notice the next time we ride into town. They'll be tripping over themselves to meet you."

Arthur wasn't sure what to say. He never expected such a bold comment on his looks like this from Dutch. But needless to say he was flattered, with the way his head dipped lower as he looked down at his boot, a bemused smile stretching at his mouth in the flickering lowlight of the fire.

"Why err, heheh. Thank you, Dutch." Arthur laughed awkwardly.

The way the golden light cast across that sharp stubbled jaw and his hair fell across his face. Dutch's breath was stolen by it. His precious boy was growing into a fine man, indeed. The kind too precious to share. The kind he wants to keep all to himself.

He couldn't stop himself from opening his mouth. "Maybe not just the women. I've been watching too. Can't seem to stop myself lately."

Arthur's breath caught. He'd felt Dutch's gaze a few times lately, during rides, during quiet moments by the river or the campfire like this, or watching him from his tent, eyes always locked on him. At first he'd brushed it off as nothing. But now, with Dutch only a foot away, the hunger in those dark eyes was unmistakable.

The older man's ringed fingers brushed Arthur's arm, tracing the swell of bicep through fabric, then sliding up to grip his shoulder. The touch was firm, possessive, warm from the fire and something else.

"Dutch…" Arthur started, voice rough. Heat crept up his neck. It felt strange but he didn't pull away. Dutch had given him permission to feel good about it. So pride flickered in his chest too, strange and unexpected but warm and fond. He'd spent every year so far looking up to this man, following him, fighting for him, becoming his best for him.

But getting closer like this now, seeing it all in a new light, it felt wrong. Maybe things were getting a bit too far. Men weren't supposed to do this. But when did they ever play by the rules? If Dutch showed him it was okay, gave him permission to feel like this, it was. Not that he could control the way it stirred something low and unmistakable in his gut anyway.

Dutch smiled with that usual charismatic curve of his lips but his eyes were pure lust now. He stepped in until their chests nearly brushed, one hand sliding down Arthur's side, feeling the solid wall of muscle there, the way Arthur's body had matured into something powerful, rugged, handsome and undeniably male.

"Look at you," he murmured, voice husky. "My handsome boy. Bigger than me now. Those hands could break a man… or please one real good, I'll bet." His fingers found Arthur's, lacing through them for a moment, thumb stroking over calloused skin.

Arthur's face warmed, a rare flush coloring his rugged features. He swallowed hard, heart pounding but he met Dutch's gaze, the way he'd want. The energy sparked between them more bright and intense than the fire before them. He could feel the heat rolling off the other man, the subtle press of Dutch's body as he leaned in closer, hot breath ghosting Arthur's neck.

"Promise me you won't allow a young lady to take you from us, no matter how beautiful she is. We need you here. I need you here."

"Of course, Dutch." Arthur replied quietly, voice thick. His hand came up, almost hesitant, resting on Dutch's chest. The admission made him feel exposed, but also alive, proud in a way he hadn’t expected. Dutch’s approval had always mattered. This was deeper, rawer.

Dutch's laugh was soft, pleased. "Good boy." His hand moved again, bolder now, sliding over Arthur's stomach, tracing the ridges of hard-earned muscle beneath the shirt. He pressed in until their bodies aligned, lips brushing Arthur's ear. "Been wanting to feel this for weeks. All this strength… all for me tonight. About time you were rewarded for such loyalty."

Arthur's breath hitched as Dutch's fingers dipped lower, teasing the edge of his belt. The night stretched on, the camp oblivious and Arthur dared to let himself lean into it, into the touch, the hunger, the charged pull that had been building between them.

Dutch was right, he was a bit older, bigger, stronger, now… Ready. So he'd follow this feeling, with his permission. And right now, he wanted Dutch to keep looking at him and touching him exactly like that.