A Long, Hard Life

They dedicate their lives
To running all of his
He tries to please them all
This bitter man he is

Throughout his life the same
He's battled constantly
This fight he cannot win
A tired man they see no longer cares

The old man then prepares
To die regretfully
That old man here is me

What I've felt
what I've known
Never shined through in what I've shown

Never be
never see
Won't see what might have been

What I've felt
what I've known
Never shined through in what I've shown

Never free
never me

So I dub thee unforgiven

– "The Unforgiven" by  Metallica

***

Chonay's Perspective 
Six months ago

The Leslie Lohman Museum of Art was a big deal in the Art Community. This was the kind of place that made or shattered the dreams of aspiring artists. I worked all of my life for this moment. Tonight, I took my career to the global stage.

Displaying my work during Gay Pride Weekend made perfect sense given my topic. I had no idea at the time but the United Nations had also convened and diplomatic delegations from all over the world were taking in the sights. I had not had an opportunity this big since Paris.

The exhibition, titled “The Future of Sex,” placed all of my most evocative paintings front and center. I wrote the thesis myself and scribed it to display placards of my own design. I put my work out there like I had never done before. A gallery presented the artist as much as his work and so I dressed to embody my message.

Firstly, I wore soft, supple deerskin in white lined with buff taffeta in the form of an open, midriff vest, a long wrap skirt, and tall moccasin boots. The cut of the leather hugged my body like a glove, leaving enough skin to scandalize in formal environs. Leather fringe draped from the yoke of the vest front and back and I tied leather tassels around my biceps to flatter my muscles. Next, I wore accessories decorated with Indigenous symbols.

A large lunar pendant of hammered silver hung over my heart while silver bear paws glittered at my ears. Stylized wings and claws decorated the pins and combs in my hair.

After that, anyone looking saw the warrior's spear tattooed inside my right forearm, a matching shield opposite inside the left forearm, a wolf symbol on my right deltoid, and on the left, a tortoise, all inked in modern Indigenous styles and colors. Lastly, I braided my long black hair and pinned it to one side in an elegant manner, leaving my face and throat exposed. I lined my eyes in black to accentuate the golden and copper flecks in my brown eyes.

I struck a figure of exotic splendor updated for the modern world, symbolic of my mission. I felt wild, free, daring and glamorous.

Most strangers guessed correctly that I dressed in a modern take on traditional Indigenous clothing. Kids giggled, saying that I dressed like a girl. Adults gave me quizzical looks, but nobody found me scary. They asked questions exactly as I intended. One group of visitors piqued my interest more than others, though.

Men in intimidating black suits filed in ahead of a pair that dominated the room with their presence. The pair, young men I estimated to be in their early 20's like me, stood tall with squared shoulders and perfect posture. The elder of the pair stood a couple of inches taller than his companion at around 6'4". Both were blessed with flawless tan skin and naturally pale blond hair. They wore fitted Versace blazers with casual shirts and matching slacks. The elder one chose a stormy color palette of cobalt, indigo, and deep cool gray. The younger chose a summery theme with azure, light gray, and black pants. They glittered with platinum neck chains, chunky wrist watches, rings, and bejeweled Bluetooth ear mics. They radiated wealth and power unlike anyone to visit my show so far.

Both struck me as gorgeous specimens of manhood but in an approachable, natural manner. They could have walked the runways of Paris but such distractions seemed trifling to such characters. These were young men of action and adventure. I daydreamed them snowboarding the slopes of Zermatt or wingsuiting in the Alps. I gleaned all of this from their athletic silhouettes to the confident set of their jaws and the ease in which they took in their environment, an ease that they now turned in my direction.

They fixed me with the gaze of eagles and I knew at once I was their prey. I peered into eyes of such arresting color of blue that I lost myself.

I froze at once, feeling guilty for getting caught nakedly ogling them. The elder one met my gaze with an intense, level expression while the other broke out all smiles and flirtatiousness. One good turn deserved another, so when they undressed me with their eyes, I turned in place to make sure they saw everything.

They maintained regular eye contact with me as they took in my paintings. Their group moved from one section to the next with the men in suits forming a perimeter, keeping a respectful distance while remaining deceptively close. I considered approaching them but no, that sent the wrong signal to men like this. This was my show, my time, so I let them come to me.

To my shame I tuned out everyone save for my two handsome visitors until they reached my position. The intimidating guards seemed satisfied that I posed no threat to their charges and parted before me, revealing the intriguing pair.

The eldest reached with a hand in greeting and spoke with a rich, smooth baritone voice that resonated deep in my core. He could have read the dictionary ad infinitum and still give me orgasms.

"You are Walksfar, the artist? A pleasure." He looked down as I continued to hold his hand. I suddenly came back to myself with a sputter, blushing deep into my chest.

"Artist? Me? Yes! Walksfar! That's me! The artist! That is, I'm Walksfar, the artist. My name is Walksfar…." I took a steady breath. "Sorry, let's try that again?" I pleaded sheepishly and offered my hand to him. "Welcome, I'm Chonay Walksfar and this is my show. Thank you for joining me tonight."

"I'm Anton Freja-Owainsen and this is–" he grunted as the younger one elbowed his way to the fore to offer his hand directly to me. To my surprise, he kissed my hand like a lady.

"I'm Emil Freja-Owainsen, we're big fans." He flashed a dashing smile. He sounded an octave higher than Anton but no less sexy. I suddenly got the impression of frisky puppies competing for my attention and broke into a big smile.

"Anton, Emil, a pleasure to meet you both, welcome to my show. I hope you're enjoying yourselves?"

Anton surreptitiously tugged his companion back by his belt loop and recovered his place in the conversation. "Very much so. The impact of your paintings is much stronger in person. I read your thesis online. The artwork definitely adds emotional depth to your argument. I found it daring that you chose stress emotion in an intellectual argument.

"What is sex but feeling, Mr. Owainsen? It's impossible to separate sex from emotion and impossible to hold a reasonable discussion about it without considering feelings."

"Of course we can and do stick strictly to medical facts when appropriate." Emil jumped in with my disclaimer, showing how much he paid attention to my thesis. I brightened, overjoyed to see that these two hot guys really paid attention.

Another gallery guest joined in the discussion. He looked bored and gave me a rude hurry up gesture. “I'll grant that the eroticism in your  paintings is compelling but to what end? I'm not into androgyny at all so it comes across to me like a niche subculture vanity project.”

"Excuse me, are you this stupid normally or does it take work?" Emil glowered at the rude guest. I held up my hand to stall the flurry of angry words about to take place and addressed what I guessed to be one of New York's art critics baiting me into a reaction.

“You're welcome to assume as much but I put forward a single message in every painting: the world would be a much healthier, happier place if society had a better understanding of sexuality and gender. My show tonight is a visual thesis." I directed the lazy guest to the displays. "If you follow them in order you'll gain a full understanding of my message."

"Yes, yes, I saw that but I don't come to art galleries to read." He checked the time and breathed an impatient sigh. "Perhaps if you could summarize?"

I shook my head inwardly and took this as part of the job. "One in ten thousand babies is born something other than male or female and yet our society believes that there are only two sexes. This belief has been so ingrained in our social consciousness that we marginalize, persecute, prosecute, and maim those who do not conform. I want my art to raise awareness and to inspire a healthy dialog that leads to meaningful, lasting change."

The rude guest gave me a patronizing smirk. "See, now, that wasn't so bad was it and it didn't take five minutes for you to get to the point. Maybe next time you'll consider that before wasting people's time! Better luck next show, son -or daughter- or whatever you're supposed to be."

He waved me off dismissively before making his way out in a dramatic display of eye rolling and indignant huffing, all while addressing his smartphone audience.

"Træk stokken fra hans røv og se ham tømme luften." Emil muttered to Anton, who bit back the urge to laugh.

"What did he say?" I asked, amused. Anton translated.

"Pull the stick from his ass and watch him deflate."

"I hope you didn't aim that at me," I teased, making it clear through my tone that I thought nothing of the kind.

Emil gave me a roguish smile and said for Anton to translate. "Jeg ville trække noget meget mere behageligt fra din røv, og du ville bede mig om at lægge det tilbage."

Anton scowled and shook his head. Emil laughed and his eyes sparkled. Now I needed to know. "Don't force me to Google it, boys."

"He said, 'I would pull something much more pleasant from your ass and you would beg me to put it back'." Anton glowered at his giggling companion.

This time I laughed. "Are you offering?"

His eyes lit with interest but Anton cut him off. "My little brother is rude but we had hoped to discuss more about your work over dinner."

"Oh, so you're brothers! That explains why you look so similar. You only want to discuss my work?" I sounded disappointed but hell, I would have taken a parking ticket if it meant spending more time with these two. "The gallery is closing shortly. I would enjoy speaking with you more but I'm not in a position to host."

"We are visiting as well. Permit us to take you to Temple Court? It is within walking distance, less than two kilometers or if you prefer, we have a car."

"You both want to treat me to dinner?" They seemed to be sending mixed signals.

"We would like to discuss what you found about Indigenous two-spirits and polyamorous relationships." Anton emphasized his words in a curious manner. I felt compelled to read between the lines but I could not be sure. It could be my imagination hoping for something that did not exist.

I also did not like going with strangers alone. They had a security detail. These were people who could make other people disappear.

I drew them gently away from the crowd and voiced my concerns. "I'm flattered but I don't know who you are. I don't want to go into anything where I don't feel safe."

"We are with the diplomatic delegation from Denmark." Anton revealed.

"The envoy is our mother." Emil added. "We are bored, cooped up in the hotel when Anton sees an advert for your show on TV. He dresses very fast and pulls me out the door! I needed pants! c'est scandaleux!"

Anton blushed modestly. "We will take any steps you like. We want you to feel safe with us."

I thought about it. "I could use a walk and see more of the city."

They agreed readily and so began the first of many dates with my Princes Charming.

We met in neutral, public locations every day that my show was featured at the gallery. They knew the sights better than some locals given how many times they visited New York with their mother.

I did my homework and discovered that Anton and Emil were very much joined at the hip. They did everything together including romancing the ladies. I found that confusing since they were very obviously taking me out on romantic dates. I figured out through conversation that they considered themselves gay and polyamorous, that previous dates were arranged affairs with family that did not know or care that they were into guys.

I caught on quickly that they thought I might be receptive to seeing them as a team rather than dating one or the other. I did not mind at all and I grew hopeful when they spoke in terms of the future, of seeing me beyond our stay in New York.

We talked about anything and everything. Anton was passionate and focused with concrete plans to save the planet with Green Technology while Emil enjoyed social causes like housing the poor and volunteering at soup kitchens. I found them very easy to talk to and we shared a lot in common, which surprised me given my lower class roots. One thing remained to be explored between us and that was the topic of our latest discussion.

We had stopped in at their hotel for a nightcap. We stood on the balcony with the cool night air lifting our hair. Anton stood behind me, kissing and licking my ear while his hands slid under my shirt. Emil stood in front of me doing the same. There was no ambiguity about their intentions and I was wholly onboard.

I raked my nails along the thick ridges in their pants when I gasped with surprise. "Jesus, Allah, Buddha, but are these baseball bats in your pants or are you happy to see me?"

"Happy," Anton growled hotly in my ear. "Very."

"Deliriously," Emil picked up, tossing my shirt away. The wind caught it and off it sailed into the New York night. I yelled after it but I was too late.

"Oops?" Emil winced.

I took off his shirt and tossed it into the wind. He laughed and we ganged up on Anton until all three of us stood shirtless. I drank in the sight of their bare chests for the first time.

Anton had reached his full growth as an adult and stood before me packed with athletic muscle. He traded in the slenderness of youth for thickness I found wildly arousing. Every muscle was bigger. There was simply more of him and my fingers itched to touch every glorious inch of his body.

Emil was less than a year younger and yet he personified youth in my eyes. His frame was lighter. His muscles, while honed to physical perfection like his brother, seemed designed for a different purpose. I categorized both as resembling great cats but while Anton was a mighty lion, Emil was a sleek, sensual leopard.

The brothers were that variety of blond indigenous only to Northern Europe and Scandinavia, so light as to be nearly white. Their eyebrows and now, I saw, their pubic regions were equally as pale. It showed starkly against their tan skin. They were naturally smooth, too. I doubt they shaved with any regularity. Their body hair was so pale as to be nigh invisible to the naked eye. They trimmed their pits and pubes for good hygiene but opted against going baby smooth like what seemed common in modern times.

What my brain danced around up to this point, what dominated my view and set my mouth to watering entered my view as the princes finished stripping.

Their souls must have paid off someone in heaven because Anton and Emil hit the genetic jackpot. They were gorgeous, they were fit, they were brilliant, warm, kind, and funny, and now they were hung.

My jaw fell. Anton tugged on the foreskin of a cock nearly as long as my forearm and as thick as my wrist. His appendage must have measured a foot at least and Emil stood right along with him, blessed equally in size if only slightly narrower.

Gravity usually pulled logs of such heft toward the Earth but both brothers brandished spears that stood proudly upright, slapping against their brickwork abs. My knees wobbled as the brothers stalked me with their sexy weapons. They closed on me with Anton in back, Emil in front. They did not sweetly ask permission to take carnal knowledge of me. The fire in their eyes grew too hot for pleasantries. They trapped me between them. They wanted me and I wanted them.

We resumed kissing only hungrier, more intense in character. They left their marks all across my neck and shoulders with my blessing. Meanwhile, I hugged Emil tightly and rubbed our cocks together.

We formed a steamy cauldron through which our meat slid, moistened by sweat and the juices of our lust. Anton hooked Emil by the waist and pulled us tightly against him.

His cock sawed through my cleft with demanding authority. He ground against my back until I imagined his nipples drew delicious welts in my skin. He latched onto my neck like a rutting animal, singular in purpose. I shivered at his guttural growl. My new, charming lover revealed the beast in his soul and I welcomed it.

Emil bit into my shoulder from the front. He huffed and sucked around the clamping of his teeth, holding me, his prey still while he took what he wanted. His growls joined those of his brother until I felt devoured by ecstasy.

Hands clutched at sweaty muscles seeking to grow closer. I dragged my nails down Emil's back as I reached the point of no return. I whimpered, needing, aching, craving release and yet doggedly shoving it down. I did not want this moment to end.

Strained cries broke our drumbeat of passion. Toes dug into wood, muscles flexed madly, hips thrust wildly. Anton slammed me hard, piercing his cock deep into my core with a single swift stroke.

I screamed at his sweet violation. I shoved back, punching his lance into my gut as deep as it could reach. He twisted his hips with a bestial snarl. He ground against my ass, digging, probing, gyrating with thrashing heat. Our hips crashed together with ferocious energy. Anton howled like a demon as he pumped me full of his seed. In one fel stroke we were one, his DNA was now part of me. I could not, would never willingly surrender it. I clamped my core shut, greedily hoarding his essence.

I became conscious as my passion-fueled strength took flight. I dropped on the spot, my energy spent to the last. My seed mashed with Emil's on his rippling belly. I reached for it, needing to add it to my hoard, but my arms hung listlessly.

I closed my eyes, exhausted, vaguely conscious as I settled into sinful comfort. Twin fortresses of blood and bone closed around me. I rested in dreamy contentment as two hearts serenaded my soul into blissful slumber.

***

Author Note: I write in a fantasy world where sexually transmitted diseases do not exist but in the real world, PrEP before you play and glove it before you love it. Carry on gentlemen!