Work Text:
Arthur wakes up from a light doze, feeling tender in all the right places and satisfied at a job well done. Once their sweat had dried and their blood had cooled off, the men made their way back to camp at a lazy pace. While it would have been nice to linger in that relaxed headspace - maybe go another round - they were needed back home.
He settles his mount at the hitching post, and brushes her down - giving her an apple for another safe journey. Arthur looks across the camp - some are doing their bit and others are resting, drinking. It's peaceful.
Before he goes to his tent, Arthur is set on getting a couple of chores done. He stretches his neck and shoulders as he bends down to pick up a flour sack for Pearson's wagon. Charles had done the last batch after all, can't have people thinking he's getting lazy.
On his way over he greets Hosea sitting on his bed, and notices Dutch standing outside his tent surveying the camp. He's looking at Pearson slicing vegetables by the supply wagon, then - with warmth in his eyes - he follows Jack running around with a toy horse.
The boy runs past Arthur, smiling up at him before greeting him gleefully, "Hi Arthur!" Arthur chuckles before hollering back at him, "who you runnin' from today boy? Your momma ain't tryin' to give you no bath is she?" Jack giggles at him, and shakes his head like Arthur has said the most ridiculous thing. "Nuh-uh, Thunder and I are runnin' from the law! They ain't never gonna catch us!"
Arthur just smiles and shakes his head as the boy runs off again. He drops off the cargo next to the wagon, and spins around to pick up another. He's rolling up his sleeves on the way back, when he feels eyes on him. He looks up and meets Dutch's gaze straight away. Arthur nods at him, and Dutch returns the gesture slowly - not looking away as Arthur continues his task.
He can feel the tension build as he moves through the camp. Initially Arthur thinks he's going to be chewed out over something but then he notes it isn't anger, but hunger in their leader's eyes. After feeding the horses he wipes his brow and watches as Dutch retreats into his tent, leaving the flap open behind him.
An invitation.
He doesn't dally, he walks over, eases into the tent and throws the fabric behind him - closing them in together. The scent is strong in the small space - so powerfully Dutch. The familiarity of it calms him. He can't see any sign of Molly. As if reading his mind, Dutch speaks up. "We're finished Arthur, I should have ended things sooner. I'm trying to convince her to go back to her folks. She doesn't want this life, nor do I want to keep her in it. But because I'm saying it, she's not hearing me. She's with the other women for now."
Arthur'd known this about her the first time he laid eyes on her. She's one hell of a woman, but this isn't her way. The idea of it in a romance book is one thing, but those writers have no clue what really goes on out on the road. Arthur also isn't going to say that to Dutch though, who was taken with her fine manner straight away. Not many men could resist a beautiful, high-class woman leaving her home country to obsess over them like she did - Dutch's ego couldn't resist.
"Didn't want you in here to talk about her though son." The older man steps closer to him, and leans in. "You boys have fun out there?" He asks lowly, to which Arthur nods, feeling strangely bashful. Dutch lays a firm hand on his shoulder, holding his eyes steady. "You gave them what they needed, but did you get enough?" While Arthur wouldn't do it if he didn't want to - has said no often enough - he can't help but run his tongue over his lips. It's not often that Dutch comes to him for this, so when he does Arthur savours every minute of it. He enjoys all the encounters he has with his gangmates, but Dutch and Charles... they're different in a way that's hard to define.
So when Dutch invited him over, there was no way known he'd turn it down. Like John said, everyone takes a cup from the kettle and no one minds sharing. But the kettle still has an owner - and shouldn't he have the last serve?
The arousal he'd to set aside earlier is seeping back in, making him feel warm again. "I could take more." Needs more, but he knows Dutch knows that. Their leader doesn't respond with words, he simply slips his fingers under his braces and slides them off his shoulders before unbuttoning his shirt. Arthur keeps his eyes on the red silk of Dutch's waistcoat while he's stripped. He floats until he feels Dutch tapping on his thighs, realising that the older man is trying to get his boots off. Arthur lifts one foot after the other as Dutch pulls his boots off, finally leaving him standing in the dim tent without a stitch on.
Dutch places his hands on Arthur's broad chest, he feels the blond's nipples harden under his palms. He slowly strokes up to his wide shoulders, down along the ropey muscles of his arms. He's not as big as Bill or Charles, but Arthur's strong - he's strong and works so hard for him, for the whole gang. He's their battering ram, but he's charming too in his way. He could be covered in dust and sweat, or trussed up in a tailored suit - either way he's an appealing man. Hell, even watching him do something so mundane as hauling hay bales got Dutch's blood up. Yet Arthur still doesn't believe that he's beautiful.
Loyal, selfless and clever. Their gang is lucky to have him.
And Dutch is lucky to get this. As much as Arthur enjoys giving himself to their gang in this way, he's sure that if Arthur didn't want him he would have walked past his tent and onto the next chore.
He continues admiring the shape of the man before him; the peak and valleys of his muscle, the breadth of him, the scars - mostly white, but some still pink. For better or worse he and Hosea had taken in an orphan, turned him into this. He puts himself in harm's way time and time again to put food on their table and cash to get them a step closer to Dutch's vision.
He loves the man, in his own unique way - every person he's slept with he loves a little bit. Whether it's one night, three months, or twenty years. A chamber of his heart is reserved for Hosea - without question. His relationship with Hosea is rich and complex. And if Hosea were to tell Dutch to let Arthur alone, he would.
But he hasn't.
Dutch strokes along Arthur's flanks, to the sides of his large, furred thighs. Arthur is more than half-way hard, a drop of pre-come lands on the back of his hand. He spares a minute to admire the other's cock while he laps the fluid from his hand. Arthur huffs but stays in place as Dutch circles behind him, not taking his hands from him. His hands are drawn to the blond's ass, which he squeezes before moving upwards and around. He pulls Arthur into an embrace, breathing deep through his nose to take in his intoxicating scent. He smells like a man fresh off the road, like sweat, and sex too. It's not a bad smell, far from it.
Arthur trembles in Dutch's arms, feeling a little stupid but unable to help his reaction. There's an arm across his chest and stomach, pulling him firm against Dutch's front. He grinds his ass against the hard cock he can feel straining against those black trousers. He's rewarded with a firm thrust and teeth at the shell of his ear. His breath sounds so loud in the small space. Although he's less conscious of the sounds he makes with Dutch - unlike the show he puts on for Javier - he knows that Dutch likes to hear him getting worked up before breaking, unable to keep a hold of his pleasure.
"D'you just need to shoot off boy, or you want something inside too?" Arthur briefly considers just asking Dutch to get him off, and leave their leader hard and wanting. A part of him enjoys that control he has over Dutch, the power to walk away from him - any of them - without consequence. But there's no chance Arthur's turning this down.
"Y-yes, inside." Dutch hums and unwinds the arm from around his chest. "Good boy."
Dutch steps back just enough to push a finger into Arthur. He's wet and warm - well ridden. "How many did you have?" Arthur takes a deep breath before grunting out, "four".
"Kneel on the bed for me, and spread."
Arthur manages to find strength enough not to collapse on the floor, but to step to Dutch's cot and lower himself into position. He knows he's red and still leaking a little. Over the years, he's noticed that Dutch only seeks him out after someone else has had a go at him. So Arthur doesn't feel shame when he shows off the bruises on his hips or feels a glob of cum working its way out.
Dutch admires the view for a moment, pushing the heel of his palm into the bulge in his pants. He's fully hard now, ready for what's about to happen. He dips down and laps at the spend oozing out of the younger man - groaning at the taste of him, not knowing or caring who's leavings it is. The hole is warm and loose around his tongue as he pushes deeper to chase what he can. Below him Arthur keens, and his hands fly to grip onto the blanket below him. Dutch doesn't mind, he moves his hands to grip at Arthur's supple flesh instead and holds him open.
"Fuck Dutch, that's good. Feels real nice." With his tongue occupied, Dutch just hums instead. He moves a hand to play with Arthur's cock, rubbing over his taint the way he likes.
Dutch moves back and spits on the hole, pushing it in with his middle finger. He's reached the edge of his patience. He undresses hastily, just wanting inside this man. He grabs lotion from his desk, rubbing it over himself without working it too much. He knows he won't last long - Arthur has that effect on him.
"You wanna lay down Arthur? Onto the bed then, and face away - that's it." Dutch slips onto the bed behind him and pushes Arthur's top leg up to bend it in front of him. He kneels on the bed, straddling the other leg, and leans forward to stroke the tip of his aching prick over Arthur's hole. The blond's large chest is heaving, and his hair's a mess. With one hand gripping Arthur's hip, Dutch punches his hips forward. There's a hint of a squeal from the man below him at the sudden intrusion, but there's no resistance; Arthur is loose and wet, and perfect.
"Feels like I didn't get all the jizz out after all - how many loads you take boy? Damn." Dutch knows what this kind of talk does to Arthur, who's already sensitive and wound up. He can't help the whine that squeezes out of him. "Smooth and easy for me, shit. Squeeze now, come on, tighten up 'round me." He can feel the muscles in Arthur's ass twitch and ripple, but not much changes inside. He can't help but laugh. "Jesus, someone really beat this cunt up. It was Charles, wasn't it? Had to be."
Arousal punches into Arthur's gut, and he gasps in response. At least he can't understand what Javier's saying when talking nasty to him - he's not going to last long at all. Dutch switches hands, moving the hand on his hip underneath Arthur to his cock, slowly but firmly stroking him while holding his hip down with the other. "Christ alive, the mouth on you Dutch, shit. Between your mouth and your cock I ain't gonna last, I'm coming." Dutch makes sure to rub the tip of Arthur's prick, spreading the wetness there along the length of him, easing the thrusts even moreso.
"Let it go son, shoot." Dutch growls, and Arthur - naturally - obeys.
Arthur cries out as he spurts across the blanket beneath him. Dutch slows his hips, but keeps milking Arthur until the tension leaves his body. "Fuck." Dutch just hums in return as he leans down to kiss Arthur's shoulder and down his bicep. He slips from Arthur, still hard and aching, but knowing that the younger man has, finally, had enough.
Arthur rolls onto his back and sighs deeply, stretching himself out before melting back against the cot. Dutch straddles his thighs now that he's settled, eyes roving over Arthur's body. He takes his prick in his right hand, and pinches at his own tit with the other. Arthur brings his hands up to rest behind his head and watches Dutch Van der Linde come apart above him.
He tilts his chin up, and Dutch swoops down to catch his lips in a kiss. He laps at Dutch's open mouth and he groans against him. He nips at Dutch as he pulls away, smirking at the dark look in his eyes. His voice is gravelly and rough when he starts on filling in the blanks for Dutch. "John was first; solid and constant. He's taken some training to get him good." Dutch smirks at that, "no doubt Abigail appreciates your efforts."
"Javier was next. Spouting some, undoubtedly, filthy shit in Spanish, hitting just the right spot inside to get me panting and crying out." Their leader is starting to lose it, his strokes are becoming erratic.
"Then Sean, and it was a struggle not to laugh. Humping into me like a dog, all desperate like. Lucky he didn't start drooling on me." Dutch huffed out a laugh at that, but his voice is shaky when he speaks. "Can't blame him Arthur, you have that effect on people. If we were women, in another life, running a cathouse, you'd be my top earner." Arthur genuinely laughs at that. If they were women, the fights between Dutch and Susan would be thunderous.
"Lenny?" Arthur shook his head with a gentle smile. "Nah, he weren't up for it, sat back and watched instead." Dutch couldn't blame him for that, not at all. "Then Charles pulled me into his lap and let me take what I wanted. Stretches me out like no one else. They make him go last so I'm not ruined for everyone else." Dutch frowns at that, so he quickly adds: "well, not everyone else."
Dutch's voice is strained, and cracked when he speaks again. "The strength you've built. The blood you've shed. The pleasure you give. All for our family - for me."
Arthur is pinned by Dutch's desperate, dark eyes. He says it before he thinks, "For you."
Dutch's come is hot, thick and fast across his tits, stomach and soft prick. He doesn't move, only hums in satisfaction as the older man leans down and cleans Arthur carefully with his tongue. He pays special attention to his nipples - he's sensitive enough that tired sparks should through his lower stomach.
Dutch sits back up and before Arthur can comment that he missed the cum on his crotch, Dutch is rubbing it into his hair and across his spent cock. It's messy and possessive, and although Arthur should study his feelings toward their leader more closely, he just figures he's dumber than Dutch gives him credit for.
Dutch finally gets up and buttons up his trousers before helping Arthur into his clothes again. As the blond prepares to leave, Dutch places a hand on his shoulder. "I am proud of you Arthur." He's relieved when the younger doesn't try to move away. "You've earnt a rest, get into your cot and don't you get up until I come for you. Rest well my boy."
Arthur feels himself melting at Dutch's words, and barely manages a mumbled thank you before exiting the tent. Thankfully there isn't a line of people to see their leader, and there's a clear path to his tent. He sits and stretches before laying down and sighing as his muscles finally relax. He's sweaty and sticky from Dutch, but he just can not find it in him to care.
It's been one of the better weeks to remember; Jack is happier with his father back, John, Bill and Javier are getting on better than ever, Susan and the girls aren't screaming the place down, and Micah is finally gone. He was a dark cloud, a venomous snake in their nest, and he's gone, and Dutch seems clearer and calmer because of it.
Arthur closes his eyes, and sees Micah swinging from a noose in Strawberry. He'd taken his time getting to the tourist town, and when he did he blended into the crowd and watched as the man was hauled up the steps and hanged. He smiles, and savours the memory. He feels more hopeful for their future than he has in months.