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Profane Art

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Jewelry had always served as powerful symbols in David’s life. Not all jewelry, of course. Not most of the vast collection of jewels in his mother’s dressing room as he grew up. Not the pacifier necklaces of his teens, or the ring with the black stone that he wore on his pinky when he was twenty until he lost it down a New York sewer grate. But the sight of that golden sideways A, nestled between his sister’s collarbones, would always trigger just a tiny bit of relief that Alexis was safe and sound. His parents’ wedding rings that by now had worn permanent grooves into their skin, maybe into the bones underneath, giving him one tiny reason to continue to believe in life-long love when everything else in his life told him it was a fantasy. The four silver rings that he’d been wearing on the day that his life imploded, when he boarded the bus that took him into exile in the town he apparently owned. Those were a symbol of his downfall, of his unwillingness to give up his fashion sense in a world of cat sweatshirts, of who he was and who he would be again.

Now those rings sat carefully nestled in a ring box in his underwear drawer, replaced by their golden counterparts. The gold rings were a message that he could have all of it — he could be himself, but he could also have this: a life in this town and with this man who made him happy. This man who made him feel safe.

And of course, there was his own wedding ring, the partner to the one on Patrick’s finger. David preferred to take his off when he showered and before he went to bed, a habit he’d developed long ago with the other rings he wore. Patrick almost never took his wedding ring off, though. He slept in it and showered in it and did yard work in it, and David should have been annoyed at the way it had gotten scratched up by years of baseball bat handles and hedge clippers, but he wasn’t. He liked it. The scratches were symbols of their time together. They were badges of the success of their marriage.

He also really liked the sight of Patrick’s ringed hand against his skin. He liked it when Patrick grabbed his hand and laced their fingers together as they walked from the store to the café. He liked it when they sat on the porch in the evenings, watching the sun set, and Patrick put his hand on David’s bare knee. He loved it when Patrick’s hand trailed down his chest, the gold ring against the dark of his hair. Secretly, he wished he could install a discrete photographer in their bedroom so that he could see it in other ways. He wanted to see Patrick gripping his ass with that hand, or see Patrick’s ringed finger on his shoulder while he fucked David hard from behind. He wanted to see the gold buried in the black of the hair on his head while Patrick buried himself in David’s mouth. It would be a gorgeous and profane art exhibit only for them. (It’s possible he’d spent a significant amount of time thinking about how he’d arrange the photos. It’s possible he’d sketched it in a journal, just for fun.)

So given all of that, perhaps it was surprising or perhaps it wasn’t surprising at all to realize how hot it was to see his husband’s hand on the body of another man.

This wasn’t the first time they’d fooled around with Jake together since they’d been married. But it was the first time David had been so transfixed by the vision of Patrick’s wedding ring in this context. Maybe it was the edible David had ingested an hour ago. Right now, for instance, he was staring at Patrick’s left hand gripping into the skin of Jake’s ass while Jake filled Patrick’s mouth with his cock. Jake stood at the foot of the bed, Patrick on his knees, and David lay back on the pillows and watched. He touched himself slowly, without any urgency, and waited his turn. The sight before his eyes was an art exhibit all on its own.

Jake pulled out, a trail of Patrick’s saliva like a single spider web catching the light for a second and then disappearing.

“You’re very good at that,” Jake said to Patrick, his voice a pleasant rumble. “Gotta stop if I’m gonna be able to fuck your husband, though.”

David squirmed, his hand drifting down to feel the plug in his ass. Oh right, he remembered. That’s what they’d discussed before they came over. That’s what he’d prepared for.

Jake was following the script, already rolling a condom on as Patrick collapsed next to David on the bed. They kissed lazily, Patrick’s mouth wet and lips swollen, tasting of another man’s cock. David bit his lip almost hard enough to break the skin and groaned. Fuck, he was so turned on.

Patrick pulled away, his gaze heavy-lidded with arousal, and put a pillow under David’s hips. He eased the plug out and David whined at the loss. But then Jake was there and he didn’t waste any time filling David back up again with his gorgeous cock. David let his head fall back, a moan ripped from his throat as sparks raced up his spine.

“Good, baby?” Patrick asked, leaning over to nip at David’s throat.

“So good.” Jake was fucking him now, short and powerful thrusts that lit him up from the inside.

Patrick kissed him and then shifted back on the bed, sitting on his heels and just watching for several seconds like he was looking at porn, transfixed by the sight of Jake’s cock moving in and out of David. Perhaps David wasn’t the only one who wished he could see them from angles he usually didn’t get to see.

Then Patrick shook himself and picked up the lube that Jake had dropped on the bed, squeezing some out on his fingers. “You still want this?” he asked Jake.

“Fuck, yeah,” Jake grunted, his hands gripping tight to David’s thighs.

This part David couldn’t see, sadly, but he could tell the minute Patrick brushed Jake’s prostate with his fingers. Jake made a noise like he’d been punched in the gut and thrust even harder. David felt the top of his head touch the headboard, and he reached back and braced his hand against it. With his other hand he jacked himself, trying to time it right — he didn’t want to come too soon but he didn’t want to lose his momentum. He wanted to come while Jake was fucking him. Wanted that desperate, out-of-control orgasm that was like falling down a mountain.

His eyes had slipped closed, and David forced them open just in time to see Patrick slip a hand around Jake’s torso to brace himself as he continued fingering him with the other. David’s eyes honed in on that wedding ring again as Patrick’s blunt fingers spread across Jake’s chest.

“Come on, David,” Jake panted. “I’m almost there. Come on.”

David moved his hand on his own cock faster, his eyes on the gold of that ring. His husband, the man he’d loved for almost a decade now. Trusting and confident and open for adventure.

He was close now, god he was close, and he met every thrust of Jake’s with his own, fucking himself on that cock, feeling bare and spread open, exposed, observed, sliding down a hill too steep to get any purchase. Faster and faster and hotter and…

The pulsing of David’s muscles around Jake’s cock matched the pulse of his cock in his hand, the wet streaks painting his belly and chest. Jake grunted and then stilled, attractive while coming like he was attractive doing anything, the bastard.

“Come here,” David said to Patrick, “let me suck you off.” Jake faded into the background and then it was just the two of them. Patrick straddled him on the bed and sighed in relief as David enveloped his cock with his mouth. It didn’t take long. Patrick was close, and it couldn’t have been more than a minute of shallow thrusts before he was coming down David’s throat.

The three of them piled together in the bed after, but David was already feeling antsy and ready to go home to his own bed, with the sheets and pillows and mattress firmness just exactly the way he liked them.

“Do you want to stick around and watch a movie?” Jake asked.

“Nah, I think we’ll head home,” Patrick answered. “We’ve gotta get an early start tomorrow.”

“Suit yourself,” Jake said. “My door’s always open for you guys.”

Patrick laughed. “Yeah.” Open invitation aside, it wasn’t ever going to be something they made a habit of. Jake was a drug best taken in small doses and rarely.

David felt Patrick poking him in the arm. “Come on, hon. Don’t fall asleep.”

“I’m not asleep,” David said, levering himself up, collecting his clothes, and heading to the bathroom to do an abbreviated cleanup before he could get home to his own shower, which was also exactly the way he liked it. When he emerged, Patrick was dressed, standing there and talking to Jake about a table he’d crafted. He needed to get his husband out of here fast before Jake turned him into a woodworker. Patrick had way too many hobbies as it was.

Patrick was running his hand admiringly over the smooth cherry wood as he talked, his wedding ring glinting in the low light.

“Ready to go?” Patrick asked David as he approached. He reached out with that same hand and cupped it around David’s neck, pulling him close for a kiss.

“What’s that smirk for, David?” Jake asked after they pulled apart.

David chuckled. “I was just wondering… Are you any good with a camera, Jake?”