Sitting in his truck, Mike watched from a distance as Frederick approached the tourist store on the outskirts of the small town. The spot he had chosen was secluded, partially hidden behind some of the pine trees that grew close to the edge of the highway, so there was little chance of anyone spotting him. While he watched, he played with an old, worn wedding band, rolling it between his fingers, just as he had done every day since the ill-fated reunion with Julie. He saw Frederick struggle to open the door while carrying a large box, aware that it contained Frederick's recent carvings. Mike narrowed his eyes as the manager came forward to help hold the door open but he relaxed when the man made no attempt to touch Frederick. Nobody was allowed to touch what was his and his alone. He saw Frederick place the box on the counter before opening it and drawing out the objects one at a time.
This was the part Mike loved. He loved to watch as the manager praised each piece before placing it in the front of the window where it would catch the eye of a passing tourist. He loved to see the shy pleasure radiating on Frederick's face.
His clever-fingered Frederick who could do more with his hands than carve interesting objects out of pieces of wood collected from the forest.
Just the thought of those fingers made his cock twitch, and he gave into his baser needs without a second thought, setting the ring aside before unzipping his jeans and freeing his cock. He spat on his hand and encircled the already hard shaft, thumb rubbing over the sensitive tip with each well-practiced stroke. He kept his eyes fixed on Frederick as he jacked himself slowly, imagining his partner's hot, tight ass clenched around him, or his equally hot, wet mouth sucking him off, recalling the slight scrape of teeth that simply enhanced the pleasure.
He loved having Frederick on his back when he fucked him, deep and hard; loved watching his face, watching his blue eyes glaze over and mouth slacken in pleasure. He loved the small whimpers as Frederick tried to hold back his cries of pain and passion--and failed.
He stilled his hand, hanging on the edge of his orgasm.
"Who do you belong to?" Mike asked in the silence of his truck, just as he would when he was with Frederick--pulling out of his ass or mouth, and leaving his cock brushing up against swollen lips or quivering hole. "Who do you belong to?"
You. Only you.
Even the memory of that ragged and desperate response was enough, and Mike thrust back into the circle of his fist, his orgasm hitting him just two strokes later--though this time he spilled his semen over his hand rather than deep in Frederick's ass or mouth. He slumped back in his seat as he continued to watch Frederick, seeing him kneel to adjust the objects on the lower shelf.
Twenty minutes passed before Frederick left the store, and Mike kept his eyes firmly on him until he disappeared along the track leading back to their secluded cabin. He would give Frederick a little time to get home and make a start on their evening meal, and then he would head home. By then he would be ready to take what was already his, perhaps with Frederick on his knees tonight while Mike fucked his mouth.
Silently, he picked up the ring from the dashboard and turned it over his hand. It was his father's ring, handed down to him when his father died a few years back, and knew it was perfect for Frederick. Tonight he would give the ring to Frederick, and make him wear it as a mark of ownership.
Mike's eyes caught on the florid inscription, and felt his heart quicken in anticipation as he read the single word--Mine.