cw for incest, jamie is a freak👍🏿
//
they would stare at it for minutes, sometimes hours at a time. always in the corner of their eye, above their head whenever they drifted off to sleep.
that strange man that had made it just for them captured his image perfectly. overjoyed to receive it, they gladly gave up a great chunk of their life savings. and they weren't even sure where to hang it at first, eventually choosing the wall right by the bed, with a meticulously crafted frame not unlike the ones in which others encase icons of saints, just out of plywood painted to resemble gold.
how many things has this painting seen? perhaps too much. sometimes they wished it was actually him, looking from above, smiling at them. sometimes they imagined that their own hand was his, caressing them with brotherly love. oh how desperately they wanted him to come off the canvas, each time they met his eyes as they arched their back, nearing the release. how they cried themselves to bed, whispering things that only it could hear, but meant for the real him.
they could not thank enough the artist whose name they remembered only for the skill with which he'd worked his brush on this piece of divine art alone. though, frankly, they sometimes felt a sting of shame, knowing that darren probably had not a single clue about the reasons why they had asked him to paint this man and nothing else. who knows, maybe he'd be disgusted. very few can feel pride when the realisation that the subject of their art is somebody's object of lust comes with a delay, long after it had been completed.
they could, however, easily make themselves forget about it just by thinking of whom the portrait was of.