A sigh of understanding went off the noses from both men. Because John could see Arthur it doesn't necessarily meant he could touch him. Arthur leaned back to "get out" of John. An apologetic smile on his face. John slightly bit his lower lip, disappointed. But Arthur was still there, even if he couldn't touch him, and this was everything he needed.

"S'okay," John managed to say, aware that Arthur might be feeling the same, both about him and his otherworldly, odd situation. "I understand," he continued. Arthur answered:

"I reckon I must concentrate more'n that thing."

"Ain't we rushing things out?"

"Maybe," the ghost voice echoing more than usual, in a way that made John shiver. He noticed Arthur's body fading more too. John made an expression of mixed fear and confusion. Was Arthur going away? Back to… the "ghost world" or something? He reached a hand, even though he knew he couldn't touch him. Arthur's eyes widened as he noticed in the last moment John couldn't see him no more, but John couldn't notice them.

John was afraid. "Stupid moron," he thought. Face buried on his hands again. He thought it was his fault that Arthur disappeared, not wanting to disappoint the younger man.

Oh, if the kiss was real. Only if he could unite their lips together. He touched his lips with his index and middle finger, wondering what would it feel like. Cold? Soft? Rough? A tingling sensation passed through his body, filling him with arousal. He felt bad for it. Wanting a dead man. A ghost. He knew he could never touch Arthur in life, but this was different. Now John knew Arthur wanted it too, and he felt guilty, sorry for every time they spent together and both never had the guts to confess. He thought it would take a long time before Arthur appeared to him again, and went into his tent.

It was a warm night. In every meaning.

John closed the tent flaps, aware he was near the road and someone could pass by. He lied down on the sleeping bag and started to undress his lower parts. He sighed in realization of what he was doing, a feeling of guilt consuming him as he stroked his cock up and down, thinking about Arthur. Fantasizing about grabbing the man by the collar and shoving him down on a bed, or on the ground, it didn't matter at all. He wanted to feel the man's mouth, curling his tongue at the imagination of a deep kiss. He wanted to feel it wrapping his cock in a wet and obscene act, the mere fantasy sending a wave of tingling sensation through all his body.

He closed his eyes and moved his hand faster. Little moans leaving his body through his nostrils. He whispered a barely audible "Arthur", not even noticing it. When he opened his eyes again, he couldn't believe - again - in what he was witnessing.

Arthur was there again. His ghostly legs passing through John's own, sharing the small space of the tent. Sitting with John on the end of the sleep bag. Wearing a blue, unbuttoned shirt only. Fingering himself. A wonderful view.

John gasped, alternating his sight on where Arthur's two fingers disappeared inside him and his pleased face. He had his eyes shutted, teeth clenched, unaware he was appearing to John again. Sighing through his nose in a standardized pace whilst touching his insides.

"Arthur," John said again with his husky voice, smirking. He felt the chills on his cheeks, knowing he was blushing. Arthur prompted himself back, leaning on his elbow and forearm instead of on his hand. His fingers moving faster and faster, hips instinctively moving up when the fingers hit that sweet spot inside him.

John fixed his eyes on Arthur's face. He was so lost in pleasure, moaning loud with that echoing voice, eyes still closed. The younger continued stroking his own length, faster, licking his lips and arching his back. He come to his climax a few seconds later than Arthur, with a weak high-pitched whimper, while the other let out a loud groan. He was amazed at the sight before him: Arthur, the grumpy outlaw and the man he loved, came from his ass, face in ecstasy, bright red on his face, glowing under the weak light of the lamp. Chest heaving, panting while the waves of pleasure passed through all his body, influencing John's own to do as so. He came on his hands, easier to clean. Arthur came on his belly. His seed glowing as much as Arthur's own ghostly body.

He finally opened his eyes, unexpectedly meeting John's fixed at him.

"Didn't know... you enjoyed it... on the rear," said John between heavy breathing. A grin take place on his face with a snort. He leaned on his elbows to sit up. Arthur was surprised.

"Wha- oh, shit," Arthur exclaimed when he realized he was being looked at. Admired, to be honest. An awkward silence took place, except by the nature sounds. Arthur covered his face in his arm and laid back. It was odd how his neck and head went through the tent flaps. "Ghosty things," John guessed. Like magic, Arthur was dressed up again. He arched his back and got sit up again, elbows supporting on his knees, his hands dropping between his legs. He looked upon John in the eyes, then looked away, shy. He said with a sigh:

"S-sorry… I saw ya doin' that and… after what you said t'me earlier… I-I thought-"

"It's okay, Arthur. We both wanted it, ain't we?" John interrupted the other man, trying to make things right this time. Of course this was even more "rushed out" than the half-kiss from before. John continued with a small smile, remembering the words he said, while cleaning his hands and tucking himself back on his trousers:

"I was afraid ya would disappear for a long time after I said that."

Arthur looked back at John and frowned, confused at first, but understood he was talking about rush the things between them. He raised his eyebrows to show it.

"Oh. I didn't intend to go away, just can't control this… uh…" He couldn't find the exact word for it, but made a rolling gesture with his hands. John opened his mouth and tried to help, but he didn't knew much words to start with. Arthur shook his head and continued, gesturing quotations with his fingers::

"...this 'can-be-seen' thingy properly. I'm tryin' for years, since Beaver's Hollow, and tonight was the first time ya could see me."

"That's alright. I didn't meant I did not want it to be rushed. Was concerned 'bout ya…"

Arthur smiled. He laughed once and looked away again, scratching the beard at his right cheek. He said, maybe too low:

"You lookin' good older like this."

John hummed in question, couldn't hear exactly what the ghost man said. Arthur cleared his throat and answered, eyes back to John's:

"Said yer now almost as older as me. When I was alive, though." His hand gesturing towards John.

John smiled. His heart still beating hard, loud to his ears. "You're right. Hard to believe it happened so many years ago. Still have dreams 'bout that time." He confessed. Arthur smirked, curious.

"What kind of dreams are ya having, Marston?" He asked in a tone that seemed a rhetorical question. John opened his mouth to answer, but he noticed the man fading more and more. An "Arthur" went out of his throat as an reflex act. The ghost tried to understand but it was too late.

Arthur faded away. Again. Leaving John sighing and sad. He wondered:

"Will I ever manage to touch ya again?"