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Arthur always looked at John for a little bit too long.
Hosea noticed. He hoped that it wasn't true, hope that made bloody crescents in his palms, hope that birthed glares in Arthur's direction each time his large hand lingered on the thin crook of John's back. He didn't know if Arthur noticed his distaste for his behavior— part of him hoped he didn't, and that the two could ignore it and Arthur could go back to being his son.
But that was the wrong part.
The other part of Hosea knew what was happening, and regardless of if Arthur knew it or not, knew that someday harm would befall John and Hosea wouldn't be there soon enough to stop it and wouldn't live long enough to pick up the pieces. This part wanted to protect John from Arthur's clutches.
Arthur would never do anything without John's permission, Hosea was certain of that much, but John was only 15— Arthur was 25. And John wasn't uneasily manipulated. Arthur was a hardened outlaw, he could have John eating from the palm of his hand in mere days.
So Hosea watched. Observed, nipped in the bud any manipulative behaviors that might lead to anything more long-term. Damaging. Hosea wanted to tell him outright, tell him to get his dirty paws off that child, and felt his distaste for Arthur growing with every interaction.
Arthur praised John, more than he praised anybody else. In fact, he never praised anybody but John. Arthur would wrap his arms around John sideways as he studied the smaller boy's aim, and praise him endlessly when he didn't miss, tell him what a good boy he is, what a fantastic shot he is. It made Hosea sick.
Then, Arthur would suddenly pull away. Act like John was a ghost, a gust of wind, ignoring him at every turn. Then, suddenly, he'd request a favor from John; Hosea could only pray his arsenal of pre recorded favors would never turn out to be sexual. Whether or not John succeeded in his task, Arthur returned to his calculated doting after it was fulfilled.
Arthur was braindead if he thought Hosea didn't pick up on his sudden grooming. Making John one hundred percent dependent on him with praise nobody else gave to him, showering him with misplaced affection and love, before retracting that until John did something in his favor. Slowly but surely, John was learning to do anything for Arthur, just for the older man to look his way.
It wasn't like John was totally indifferent to Arthur, either. Hell, if John didn't show so much interest, Arthur never would've manipulated him like he does. Maybe at first John just wanted to be like Arthur, a model male, strong and charming and fast. But Hosea had noted the exact moment that admiration turned into attraction turned into infatuation, and the moment indifference turned into…
Hosea wasn't sure what to call this. It wasn't love, not like it's supposed to be. Hosea wasn't sick like Arthur was. Couldn't make sense of his twisted mind.
John blushed furiously at Arthurs meticulous shows of affection, ones nobody but Hosea noticed. He saw John squirming while riding a horse with Arthur, sitting on the saddle in front of him, placing his ill fitting satchel in his lap. And Arthur noticed this. And Hosea noticed his villainous grin each time he did.
Part of Hosea wanted nobody else to find out, to save John the shame.
The other part wanted everybody to know how dangerous Arthur was.
But both parts of him wanted to protect John. And neither part of him could.
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Arthur always looked at John for a little bit too long.
But to Arthur, it never was long enough. He wanted to keep staring, ensnare him, pin the younger boy beneath him and drink in every part of him. Smell him, touch him, make John adore him. Become one with him.
John was beauty incarnate, Aphrodite's favorite. His cheeks and nose were rosy, his lips perfectly pink and plush, save for when they're bruised or cut up. Arthur hated that aspect; hated how beat up John was becoming. It filled Arthur with ire, and with the urge to protect John, to keep him safe and living in luxury.
His shoulders were broad but his waist was thin and his body was lithe, and Arthur loved watching him learn to ride horses. He started out with ponies, and the way he bounced up and down on the saddle filled Arthur's mind with dirty fantasies. His thighs clutched around the sides of the horse perfectly, and Arthur wanted to bite them, bruise and kiss and lick them.
John's hair was soft, when he bothered to wash it. Thick and shining and long and perfect— Arthur would give anything to card his fingers through the locks.
Arthur wasn't the only one infatuated with John. He was freshly 15, having turned so just the day before, which Dutch celebrated with a trip to the saloon. It was safe to say that John was popular with the women, being clawed at and fawned over all night long. Arthur was particularly sour that night, choosing to give John a birthday present of his own. The memory was fresh in Arthur's mind, and he licked his lips absentmindedly.
"What— what're you doing—?" John had chirped, his face flushed and eyes half lidded. Arthur brushed John's bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, and the smaller boy gulped.
"Do you want this?" Arthur's voice came in a drawl, husky and low, and John rubbed his thighs together discreetly, but Arthur noticed. He always did.
"What do you mean?" John breathed and Arthur shuddered at his voice. A voice of a man, yet so soft and innocent. He wanted to hear more.
Arthur had John pinned against the outside wall of the saloon, obscured by shadows, the party still raging inside; nobody would disturb without Arthur hearing. Their bodies were nearly flush against one another.
"You know what I mean. Do you want this? Do you want me?"
John averted his gaze. His voice was little more than an ashamed whisper. "...Hosea told me to stay away from you, Art."
Arthur's heart shattered in despair, but he kept his face blank. He wasn't worried about losing John's loyalty, he knew all too well what to do; his own father had treated him the same way, after all. Except Arthur wasn't some freak of nature— he loved John. Really, he did. His only concern was Hosea tearing them away with force.
Arthur placed his knee in between John's legs, and he heard the shorter boy's breath hitch.
"Hosea worries too much. Would I ever wrong you John?"
John exhaled shakily, biting his lip so hard it almost bled. He shook his head. "N-no."
Arthur smiled softly, comfortingly, placing a soothing hand on John's cheek. The younger boy nuzzled into the touch immediately, desperate to feel the warmth that'd been kept from him for far too long.
"Good boy. Now, do you want this?"
Arthur experientially moved his hand, placing it on John's thigh and squeezing. John flinched and squeaked, but made no effort to stop Arthur, or to escape. He snaked his hand further around John's thigh, the back of his hand ghosting his dick. He massaged the young boy's inner thigh, teasingly. John's body temperature was rising impossibly high.
"Arthur." John sighed, and Arthur almost came in his pants just hearing his name. John, so submissive and obedient, just for him. Just for Arthur.
"What do you want, boy?"
"Arthur— please, please—"
"Please what?" Arthur's hand glided away, not resting idley on John's hip. John whined, his brows knitting. Arthur knew he had the young boy exactly where he wanted him, in a spot where he'd do anything for Arthur's touch.
"Please. Please, Arthur, I— I need—"
"Johnny, if you don't tell me what you want, I'm going to have to leave."
John never questioned Arthur's mind games. First, Arthur was asking John what he wanted, and now acted as though he didn't know exactly what that was. John was terrified of Arthur leaving, and would get on his hands and knees for his approval, Arthur could see it in his eyes, that flicker of apprehension.
Arthur felt no sympathy
"No! No, Arthur, please don't go." John's eyes welled up with tears, pricking at the corners and threatening to fall. Such a crybaby. "Please touch me, Arthur. Do anything you want to me, I don't care, just stay."
Arthur hummed in response, resting his forehead in the crook of John's neck and smirking into the soft skin. He slowly moved his hand back down, palming John through his clothes, eliciting a soft moan Arthur had been waiting months to hear; soft. Pleading, and filled with lust. "Why do you want me to stay so badly, princess?"
Arthur felt John harden slightly at the pet name. "Be— because—"
"We've talked about this."
"Because yo-you're the only one who rea-really loves me. You're the only one who ma-matters. Oh, Arthur." John whined when Arthur pressed down particularly hard. The older man hummed into John's skin.
"You're a good boy, aren't you? Such a smart, obedient boy."
John reacted to the praise, he always did. "I am?"
"Yeah." Arthur confirmed, unbuttoning John's pants and pulling them down to his mid-thigh. He cupped John's cock, rubbing his thumb over the tip. "My good boy. My sweet, sweet boy. You're doing great."
Arthur hooked a thumb around the hem of John's boxers, pulling them down as well. John's eyes widened.
"You ain't gonna…?"
Arthur couldn't help but chuckle. "No. I'm much too big for you. You've got some growing up to do before that, boy."
John shuddered in want at the thought. Arthur clicked his tongue, putting two fingers up to John's lips. John looked up at him, his pupils dilated.
"Suck."
John did what he was told, and God, he did it so well. His tongue licked and lapped at Arthur's digits perfectly, Arthur periodically shoving them forwards and causing John to choke. Arthur longed to watch the small boy choke on something else.
Arthur retracted his fingers, earning a whine from John. "You did great, Johnny." He snaked an arm around John's waist, pulling him closer.
"Arthur…" John breathed when he felt their lengths pressed together. John began to grind softly against Arthur's clothed cock, wrapping his arms around Arthur's chest and digging his short nails into his back. "Arthur, please."
"Simmer down, cowboy." Arthur chuckled, slowly circling one wet finger around John's hole. John gasped, gripping Arthur tighter.
"It's okay. It's okay. I got 'chu. Relax, Johnny, I won't hurt you." Unless you want me to.
John exhaled shakily, letting his body relax, and Arthur slipped a finger into John's hole. The smaller boy tensed.
"It'll feel a bit weird at first. But soon it'll feel really, really good."
Slowly, Arthur started pumping his finger in and out of John. He had to bite back a groan at how tight and warm it was. He almost didn't want to fuck John, and ruin his virgin innocence. But if he waited too long, he might miss his chance.
John relied on Arthur, and Arthur knew that. John didn't have an idea of how relationships were meant to be, he just knew that he liked the attention, the affection, and that he had never received treatment like that. John needed Arthur.
"Oh, oh, Arthur." John moaned in Arthur's ear, and the older man could tell he was starting to feel the pleasure. Arthur planted kisses along John's collarbone, ones that could be hidden easily with scarves.
John reached down between them to touch himself, slowly pumping his cock, letting out a series of squeaks and whines and moans. Arthur picked up the pace, adding another finger and stretching John out.
"Such a good boy. Such a beautiful, smart boy. So good for me." Arthur praised, nipping John's perfectly soft skin. John threw his head back and let out a loud moan when Arthur's finger thrusted into his sweet spot, tears rolling down his rosy cheeks.
"Oh! Oh, Arthur, shit— right there. Fuck." John babbled. Arthur growled, setting his pace impossibly fast. John lost his ability to speak coherent words, and came quickly, his cum making a mess of both of them.
Arthur looked back to John— his face was red and beaded with sweat, tear streaks staining his cheeks. His eyes were half lidded and hazy. Arthur leaned in closer, taking John's mouth in his and kissing him slowly. John was experienced, terribly, in almost all areas, and it made Arthur's heart soar.
"Arthur! John!" Arthur heard Dutch call from the front of the saloon. "You out here?"
Arthur smiled softly as he dressed John again, putting his limp cock back into his boxers and buttoning his pants. Each movement, small as it may be, was gentle and affectionate. He kissed John again.
"Yeah, Dutch." Arthur called back, taking John by the wrist and leading him back. "Just congratulating the boy."
Dutch grinned warmly at them, overjoyed to see them getting along. "Well, isn't that just joyous. We gotta get going, though. I might've relieved a kind patron of some of their money weight."
Arthur laughed heartily, rubbing John's shoulder. The two of them knew what it meant, knew it was an admission of possession.
But Dutch didn't. And he never would.