It's Only Temporary

Arin crossed his arms over his bent knees and sighed in boredom as he watched his boyfriend windsurf the crystal waves off Seaside Beach. It was only ten in the morning but he and Mark had been on the beach since seven. That's all they'd done since arriving on Anteros Island: hang out on the beach or in the water. It would've been great -- if they both weren't from Myrtle Beach. Going from one beach to another wasn't Arin's idea of a vacation.

But, if there was one thing he had learned from two years of being Mark's boyfriend, it was that you didn't argue with Mark. Boyish, charming, and self-deprecating, Mark was the man you couldn't say no to -- and Arin never did.

Out on the water, Mark attempted to jump his board over the crest of a wave but the awkward weight of the attached sail foiled him. He and his sail crashed into the water. Arin sat up straighter, straining to see if Mark was alright, but another surfer was already paddling towards him. Arin frowned and nervously drummed his fingers on his knees as he listened to the faint conversation which sprang up between the two men. He had a sinking feeling that he knew what Mark's laugh meant. He had a worse feeling that tonight Mark would invite this new surfer back to their hotel room.

Just like last night.
Not wanting to think about that, Arin twisted around and grabbed Mark's bottle of water. Unfortunately, it was only half full, and Mark would probably be thirsty when he returned to the beach. Arin shielded his eyes with one hand and scanned the beach for a drink vendor.

There were several vendors walking amidst the crowd of tourists, selling everything from cowry shell necklaces and battery-operated misters, to tropical fruit pops and jerked meat on skewers. Arin didn't need any more trinkets and, after the breakfast buffet they'd gorged on at the Four Aces Casino, he didn't think he'd be able to eat until dinner. He sighed. Where in the world were the drink vendors?

A shadow fell over his left side.

"Care for a tattoo to celebrate your time on the island? It's temporary, and it'll make you look even sexier than you already are."

Arin automatically laughed, embarrassed. The man above him stood with his back to the sun, casting his face in shadow, but Arin could see he was built like Mark: just a little larger in the frame than Arin's five foot eight.

"I'm really not into tattoos. Thanks, anyway."

"I have some designs that would flatter you. And as I said, it's only temporary. It'll fade before you leave the island."

Arin lowered his sunglasses a little and peered over the top of them. He could see the other man more clearly now. He was young like Arin, maybe mid twenties. He had a head full of tight, dark blonde curls and his skin was pure bronze as if he'd never worn more than the red Speedo that clung tightly to his hips. Incredibly intricate tattoos covered the tops of both bare feet and wound midway up his shins. A tattooed sun radiated out from his navel, covering the lower half of his abdomen and dripping a line of fire that led eyes down to the sizeable-looking treasure concealed beneath the Speedo. He carried a canvas drawstring bag over one shoulder. The tips of his fingers were stained with ink.

He smiled under Arin's perusal, his white teeth flashing proudly, his grey eyes crinkling at the corners. His nose was broad, but slightly upturned. The snub-like nose and his cleft chin made him seem almost impish. Playful.

He was a charmer, just like Mark.

Arin pushed his glasses back up, hastily dismissing the other man. "Really, no. I don't want one. Thanks."

To his dismay, the other man dropped his bag to the sand beside Arin's legs. "Then I'll have to give you one for free."

Arin opened his mouth to protest, but the man abruptly dropped to his knees and placed a finger against Arin's parted lips. Startled, Arin reared back. The man smiled softly at his reaction.

"No worries," the man assured him, lowering his hand. "I'm only giving you a gift. There's no obligation. I promise."

Unhappy with his inability to deter the other man, Arin looked helplessly towards the ocean. Mark was now straddling his board, the sail trailing in the water like a tired fin, as he continued his conversation with the surfer he'd met. The surfer was definitely going to end up in their bed tonight, Arin realized with resignation.

"Does he always flirt with other men in front of you?"

Arin blinked in surprise. "What?"

The blonde tattoo artist shrugged and jerked his chin towards the water. "Your boyfriend. He's cruising that surfer. Last night, I saw him doing the same with the bartender at the Isla Mann." His soft gray eyes settled on Arin again. "The three of you left together. But you didn't seem as pleased about it as he was."

Blushing, Arin clutched his knees tighter to his chest. "I didn't mind. It's something we've done for months. We have an understanding."

"An understanding about him having sex with other people?"

"He doesn't have sex with them," Arin blurted defensively. "He only -- he just blows them and I . . . watch." His eyes fell to the sand. "He likes it when I watch him do it. It's not cheating. He doesn't sleep with anyone but me." His eyes widened, and he looked at the artist in alarm. "Oh. I don't know why I'm telling --"

"Let's pick out your design," the other man cut him off smoothly. He opened the mouth on his bag and pulled out a small photo album. He handed it to Arin. "Pick something you like. Anything. Business is slow this morning. I've got time for something elaborate."

The book was heavy in Arin's hands. As he looked down at it, he wished he hadn't accepted it. But that had always been his problem. He couldn't say no.

"I shouldn't," he began weakly.

"Consider it a gift for him." The tattoo artist offered another smile, but this one didn't make his eyes crinkle. "Maybe it'll be enough to keep his attention."

The comment sounded vaguely insulting, but Arin wasn't sure, so he opened the book without another word. He flipped through the pages of designs, marveling at the intricate patterns.

"Tribal ones are in the front. They're the most popular," the artist said as he pulled a Tupperware container out of his bag. "More traditional designs follow them and on the last four pages are the Caribbean designs."

The swirls were manic and wild, far bolder and more aggressive than anything Arin would choose for himself. He paused on a page featuring a design with thick strokes that looked almost Asian. It was something he could see Mark picking out for himself.

"You know him well," the artist remarked obliquely. He took the opened book from Arin's hands and set it on his lap. Then he smiled at Arin. "My name's Jude, by the way."

"Arin. With an 'i'," he added self-consciously.

"I like it," Jude stated, looking Arin over. "It's different. Unique. Better than Aaron with an 'o'. That's too boring. Too ordinary. You're anything but."

An uneasy laugh fled Arin's lips. He wasn't sure, but he thought Jude might be flirting with him. It had been a long time since someone had approached him.

"I'm nothing special," he protested, nervous.

"With that pretty auburn hair and those blue eyes?" Jude's own eyes turned to charcoal and his voice dropped slightly. "You're cute. Your boyfriend should tell you that all the time."

With relief, Arin smiled and said, "He does."

Jude's eyes lightened as if someone had pulled back the drapes and allowed the sunlight inside. "At least he does one thing right." He gave a quick smile as if thinking something amusing before he withdrew a folded sheet of transfer paper from his container. "Where would you like his tattoo? And would you like it to be henna or jagua? Henna turns brown. Jagua becomes black."

The way Jude had phrased it, that it would be Mark's tattoo on his body, ruined Arin's brief good mood. He considered his body and realized there was only one place for the tattoo. He extended his right wrist to Jude. "I want it here. Around my wrist." He hesitated, and then added, "Make it black."

Jude's lips twitched. "A manacle, it is."

Startled by the comment, Arin started to protest, but Jude began whistling, so he fell silent.

The blonde laid the transfer paper over the design Arin had picked out and carefully traced it with a thick pencil. Once he finished, he reversed the paper and slowly spread it over Arin's wrist, rubbing the design onto his skin. When he peeled the paper away, a faint imprint of the design remained on Arin's skin.

Then, Jude pulled out a small paper cone of black ink from his box. With a clipper, he snipped off the tip of the cone to make an applicator.

"Last chance for freedom," he teased, glancing up at Arin from beneath blonde lashes.

Arin forced a smile. "I'm fine. Go ahead."

"Rest your hand on my leg," Jude instructed.

Arin hesitated. He could tell through the small Speedo Jude wore that the blonde was half-hard. Arin wondered if it was because of him. Then he wondered if he wanted it to be because of him. Excitement and nervousness battled and, of course, the latter won out. He rested his hand on Jude's knee instead.

Another flicker of a smile crossed Jude's lips, but he didn't look up. "All in good time," he murmured.

Out on the water, Mark continued his conversation with the surfer. Arin tried to keep his eyes on his boyfriend, but watching Mark chat up another man and make plans to fellate him later began to depress him so he returned his attention to Jude. He watched, fascinated, as the other man skillfully traced every curve and swoop of the design with an unbreaking line of ink.

"You're really good at this," he marveled. "Do you ever make mistakes?"

Grey eyes touched him and fell away. "Sometimes. But not this time."

Jude worked in silence for another minute. "I've been on this island for six years," he continued, his attention focused on his work. "I've seen a lot of people come here. A lot of couples."

"I bet you do," Arin said, smiling uncertainly at the turn in the conversation.

"Some of them come here to celebrate what they share with each other. It's a great place to renew your vows. But a lot of people come here to try to salvage what they've lost. Some relationships need a place like this to rekindle the romance. They need to forget about work and family and concentrate on what it is they love about their partners."

"That's nice," Arin offered.
"And some relationships -- some are already over, only they don't know it yet. Coming to some place so perfect makes it suddenly crystal clear."

The big breakfast Arin had eaten turned into a lump of cement in his stomach. "That's too bad," he said, trying to keep his voice even. His eyes wanted to drift to the sea where Mark was, but he kept his eyes on the top of Jude's head. "I imagine some of those couples didn't have good relationships to begin with."

Gray eyes flicked up briefly. "You mean like they'd been faking it? Or maybe, pretending that all was well when they knew deep down that it wasn't? Just going along with what their partners wanted in order to keep the peace?"

Arin's jaw clenched. "Yes. Or perhaps they didn't understand how to compromise."

"And maybe some of them compromised when they shouldn't have."
Anger flared bright and brief, but Arin tamped it down. He didn't know for certain that Jude was referring to him and Mark, not really. And even if he was, Jude was making assumptions based on two random encounters. Arin and Mark had been together for two years. A relationship didn't last that long if it wasn't based on love.

Jude didn't know anything.

After a few more minutes, Jude straightened. "There you go. All done."

The gel glistened on Arin's wrist as he held it up and admired the winding strokes. "It's beautiful," he breathed, his earlier ire forgotten in the face of such skill. "You're incredible. Do I need to do anything special for it?"

"It'll take about a half an hour to dry. Obviously, don't smudge it." Jude folded up the transfer paper and tucked it and the cone of jagua ink back into the Tupperware box. "In two hours, you can peel it off. It'll be gray at first, but it'll darken to black in a couple of days."

Arin nodded and carefully braced his hand on his leg so he wouldn't smudge the ink. "How long will it last?"

Jude's smile was enigmatic. "That's the million dollar question, isn't it?"

Before Arin could question him on what he meant, Jude pulled another Tupperware box from his bag and opened it. He caught Arin's unadorned wrist and pulled it towards him.

"I'm not done giving you your gift," he murmured, gazing into Arin's eyes. "You need to be painted in henna, too. But this design, this design will be mine."

Panic flared in Arin's belly. He tried to tug his wrist free. "No, Jude -- no, I can't. Mark will --"

"He won't have any idea," Jude replied simply. "But you will. And since this is about you, only you need to know." When Arin continued to resist, Jude glanced at the ocean. "He's out there with another man. He doesn't know what you're doing right now and he doesn't care. Are you dependent upon him, or can you make your own choices?"

Arin snorted bitterly. "So this is supposed to be some brave act of defiance?"

Jude's expression mellowed. "No. This is supposed to be an act of celebration. You have something to celebrate. Don't you, Arin?"

That sobered Arin. His arm fell lax in Jude's grip as he thought back on what the artist had said. Couples came here to celebrate their bond, but that wasn't why he and Mark were here. They were here so Mark could find new partners to satisfy his kink.

Humiliation burned hot and acidic in his gut, but the understanding in Jude's eyes worked like a balm on the sting.

"I have a design I'd like you to wear," Jude told him, his voice gentle. "I made it myself. I'd like to see it on you."

Arin glanced to the pure blue waters. His boyfriend was making plans to fool around with a stranger right in front of him.

"Go ahead," he said sadly.

This time Jude didn't work with the transfer paper. He picked up a cone of dark brown ink and began drawing the design freehand on Arin's skin.

"I came up with this one night while walking through the jungle," he explained as he painted Arin's skin in swirls and curly cues. "I saw a bird of paradise entwined with a fern. They were holding each other as if they were lovers. It was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. Have you been to the jungle on Anteros, Arin?"

"No." He and Mark had only hit up the clubs, the beaches -- all the places for picking up other men.

"It's an extraordinary place. It changes your perspective on life," Jude murmured, "when you realize how fragile things can be."

"What were you doing at the Isla Mann?" Arin blurted. "You said you saw us there. Were you following us?"

Jude's fingers cradled his palm. "No, but I recognized you. I've seen you on the beach. You've come here every day since you and he arrived. He plays in the ocean. You sit on the beach and watch him." Jude shifted, but he didn't look up. "I don't like it."

"You don't like it?" Arin was mystified. "It's none of your business."

Gray eyes caught and held him. "Maybe. But that could change."

Afraid to say the wrong thing -- afraid to say the right thing -- Arin ended up saying nothing at all. Jude continued working on the tattoo in silence. When he had finished, he carefully laid Arin's hand upon the sand and looked up at him.

"Follow the same directions for this tattoo as for the other one. When this one dries, it'll be brown."

Arin swallowed. "You never told me how long they'll last."

Jude gave a half-smile. "When you find out, come let me know."

"Arin! Hey, Arin!"

Arin jerked backwards from Jude, remembering at the last minute to keep his newly painted wrists away from his body. Mark was emerging from the white water, slowly dragging his surfboard and sail. The surfer he'd befriended followed behind, shamelessly ogling Mark's ass.

Shadow fell over Arin's left side as Jude stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder. "Enjoy your vacation, Arin with an 'i'." The tattoo artist gave him a two-fingered salute. "Take care of those tattoos."

Arin thought he should say something as Jude turned and walked away, but Mark had reached the sand and it was too late.

***

The wind chime he used as a doorbell rattled musically at the front of the house.

Twelve days. Right on schedule.

Naked, Jude rose from bed, but he grabbed a towel off a nearby chair and wrapped it around his waist. The linoleum was cool beneath his bare feet as he passed through the kitchen. It was dotted with a handful of leaves. He always kept the windows open, so his small cottage would feel as much like the outside as he could make it.

He opened the front door as the chime rattled again. He smiled at the anxious man waiting for him on his doorstep.

"Hello, Arin with an 'i'. You found me."

The auburn-haired man gave him a nervous smile. He was dressed in white shorts and a pale blue shirt. His hair was damp at the ends, as if he were freshly showered. "I-I asked around where you lived. I hope that's alright."

"Of course it is." Jude stepped back. "Come inside. Are you alone?"

"Yes."

Jude nodded as he closed the door behind the other man. He already knew that Arin was alone and he knew why the man was here. He watched Arin's pretty blue eyes dart around the interior of his modest home like a hummingbird scouting for danger. They were in the living room, where the furnishings were simple and comfortable and were comprised mostly of other islanders' cast-offs. Jude liked it that way; what other people didn't want anymore, he gave new life.

He circled Arin until he faced him. "Why were you looking for me?"

Arin thrust up both wrists. "You said to find you when they faded." He held up his right wrist, where the jagua tattoo had been. Only a tired shadow of the original tattoo remained. "Mark's faded. But --" he raised his left wrist, where Jude had drawn his personal henna tattoo on him, "-- yours is still there." Arin dropped both arms. His eyes were misty. "You knew it was going to happen, didn't you?"

Jude waited patiently, reading the storm in the other man's eyes.

"He did it with another guy," Arin choked out. "He did it without me. That wasn't what we agreed on. That wasn't what I agreed on. He did it without me, Jude. He cheated on me."

"It was a matter of time," Jude told him regretfully. "I'm sorry."

Arin nodded, eyes still glimmering. He looked down at his left wrist and caressed the faint, but still visible, brown tattoo Jude had given him. "You marked me . . . and only yours lasted." He looked up again, his young, handsome face soft and vulnerable. "Does that mean you want me? Is that why you watched me all those times?"

Jude listened to the wind shift in his small home. From the corner of his eye, he saw the shadows move. "I watched you because you're beautiful," he murmured, finally reaching out and cupping Arin's smooth cheek. "I watched you because it was something your boyfriend should have been doing, but he wasn't. He had no idea what he possessed in you, and now it's too late. But I know, Arin. I know exactly what you're worth."

"It is too late," Arin agreed, leaning into Jude's hand. "I'm not going back to him. He blew it."

Jude stroked his thumb over a high cheekbone. "So you've ended it forever?"

Arin had been clasping his hands together, but now he hesitantly broke them apart. He glanced up at Jude uncertainly. Jude nodded, permitting the other man to lightly rest his hands on the towel at his hips.

"It's over between us. I'd . . . like to see you, if I could," Arin whispered. He licked his lips in an amateurish attempt to look seductive. It made Jude's knees tremble.

"You can stay as long as you like," Jude whispered. "I want you here." He pulled the other man forward and covered his lips in a kiss.

Shy or not, Arin knew how to kiss. His lips were soft and plump, they parted like a ripe peach when Jude slid his tongue between them. Like the pure bottom he was, Arin presented absolutely no resistance. His tongue curled around Jude's, stroking it submissively as Jude used the thrust of his tongue to show Arin what he hoped to one day do to him in bed.

Arin was sweetness and confused desire. Everything about him stirred a fathomless hunger in Jude. Unable to wait any longer, Jude reached down and shoved his towel off his hips. He broke the kiss and husked, "Arin, would you? Please?"

Blue eyes blinked up at him, dazed with desire. Arin blushed, but he nodded and carefully dropped to his knees. The first tentative touch of his lips to the head of Jude's cock made Jude groan aloud. When Arin finally engulfed him in his mouth, Jude threw his head back and smiled.

The confidence Arin lacked socially, he possessed in spades when it came to giving head, as if he'd learned that sex was the one place where he could make up for all his other faults. He sucked as if he wanted to turn Jude inside out. His fingers cupped and stroked Jude's balls with the skill of an artist who truly loved his subject. Jude carded his fingers through Arin's soft hair and began to gently fuck his mouth, growing more forceful, more demanding, as Arin grew used to his length and took him down his throat.

A nearly inaudible sigh prompted Jude to turn his head to the side. His long-time lover, Enrique, stood in the doorway to the bedroom, stroking his cock while he watched them. Jude met the other man's eyes and shared his lover's smile. He would introduce Enrique to Arin next week. With a little care and persistence, both he and Enrique would become Arin's new confidants and emotional support system. In return, they would politely ask for the use of their new friend's mouth and ass. Jude knew Arin wouldn't refuse them.

The visual of them fucking Arin at both ends, convincing him that he liked it -- no, that he deserved it, made Jude groan and shudder. He clutched Arin's head and let the orgasm rush through him. Arin tried to pull back, but Jude held him in place and said firmly, "Swallow."

Arin did, and Jude petted him like he would his favorite dog before he slowly released him.

Coughing, Arin drew off of his spent cock and sat back. He looked up hesitantly. "Was I -- was that okay?" he asked hoarsely as he wiped at his eyes.

Jude could almost hear Enrique snickering in the other room. Jude caressed the side of Arin's face. "I think that deserves a new tattoo. Would you be opposed to me drawing matching ones? One for you and one for me?"

Surprise and emotion brightened Arin's face. "I'd love that. I only wish -- you could make it permanent," he breathed.

Jude smiled. "I'm sorry, Arin. It's only temporary."