SWIM, SWITCH, SWING (18+)
PAIRING: Patrick x Artashi x Reader
WORD COUNT: 1118
CONTENT TAGS: Brief smut, Husband!Patrick, Married Artashi, open relationship, hotel, mutual fantasy, riding, dom/sub undertones, swinging
SUMMARY: You and your husband Patrick are on vacation at a luxury resort but then you see the hottest couple ever mmm delicious must fuck 10/10
Thinking about going on vacation with your husband Patrick. The two of you are freshly married, not in an incredibly-in-love kind of way, but in a way that made sense by the time you said “I do.” You fit. You like each other enough. The sex is good. And none of you are getting any younger. So why not?
And now, thanks to a lucky booking, credit card points, and off-season rates, it’s your first real vacation together at some ridiculously expensive resort. Everything is sleek, luxurious— normally, you’d feel out of place.
But Patrick makes it exciting.
Morning sex in sheets so soft, you’re not sure where your skin ends and where the fabric begins. Having lazy breakfast in bed, before checking out the exclusive amenities. Day-drinking by the pool, stretched out under the sun, tipsy and tangled in each other. Fucking again, this time in the bathroom because you can and you should— it’d be a crime to waste that spacious tub. The two of you make the most of everything.
It’s your third day there when you’re floating in the pool with Patrick, playing like children in the shallow end. It’s a little dangerous with a cocktail glass in your hand but no one’s stopping you as you giggle at Patrick’s antics, splashing you occasionally with a lazy smile plastered on his face.
Then, from the corner of your eye, a couple settles into the lounge chairs. The woman— tall, slender body with short hair framing her unbothered face— designer sunglasses perched on her nose, and a black one-piece swimsuit that shows off her legs. She sips her drink with the slow indifference that says nothing could ever distract her— not even the cute blond beside her. He’s softer, with a book in his hands, but his body is clearly fit, giving him some strength that contrasts with his gentle, expressive eyes. They sit together, side by side, calm and relaxed. Like luxury is their natural state.
“Jesus,” Patrick mutters, dragging a hand over his wet curls. “That’s a couple.”
“Mmhmm,” You hum around the rim of your glass.
You try not to be so obvious with your gawking but Patrick notices your eyes fixed the woman. He can’t blame you— she’s gorgeous, with an undeniably elegant presence. He grins.
You let out a quiet laugh. “She looks like she’d have me thrown out of here.”
He tucks your wet hair behind your ear. “Blond’s cute.”
They’re both your types. You watch as the woman adjusts her sunglasses, crossing one long leg over the other. Her husband stretches his unbelievably toned arms to take her hand absentmindedly, keeping his gaze on his book. She runs her thumb over his knuckles, and their matching wedding bands gleam under the sunlight.
Yeah. Definitely out of your leagues.
“Shame,” Patrick sighs. “We’d have fun.”
You swallow. ‘Fun’ is definitely a word.
Patrick notices your silence and leans down, lowering his voice.
“Wanna have sex and pretend we’re fucking them instead?”
You drain the last of your drink and tug Patrick’s wrist, leading him to the elevator. Even before you make it to your room, Patrick makes some off-handed comment about blonds. You pretend to be annoyed, but you’re just as distracted, thinking about long legs and designer sunglasses and a voice you haven't even heard yet.
The door barely clicks shut before you’re on Patrick, pulling his damp body towards you. Your fingers tug at his swimsuit, taking them down, and he laughs against your mouth, pleased at your enthusiasm.
“They turned you on this much?”
Without answering, you push him to the bed, and he falls backwards to the sheets, propped up on his elbows. His eyes darken as you peel off your swimsuit, giving him a little show. You climb on top of him, straddling his hips, and the moment your bare skin meets his, he lets out a sigh— you fit.
He palms your thighs to ground himself, and you grind down, once, just to feel him shudder underneath you.
“Tell me what you want her to do to you.”
The way your husband says it— so easy, like he already knows the answer— sends an aching feeling straight between your legs.
“I want her to—” You swallow, feeling your face heat. “Want her to wreck me.”
You roll your hips as Patrick’s fingers dig into you, taking in your shaky form. You’re too turned on to care about his smug expression— all you can think about is her.
“Want her to hold me down, make me beg—”
Patrick bucks into you, meeting your speed, and you put your face against the crook of his neck, stifling your moans.
“God, she’d make a mess of you.”
“Yeah?” You gasp. “And what about her husband?”
Patrick groans. You press your lips to his ear.
“I bet he cries when he comes.”
Patrick chokes on a laugh, eyes fluttering shut at the thought. “You’re gonna kill me.”
“Stop talking,” You order, arms surrounding his shoulders. “And fuck me like you’d fuck him.”
Just a few floors up, in a suite twice the size of yours with a balcony view, is Tashi, fingers deep inside Art’s mouth. She’s sitting on the modern bed, looking down at her husband lying on his stomach below her. He exhales hard through his nose, sucking her fingers when she tips his head back.
“They couldn’t stop looking at us.”
Tashi smirks, watching the way Art’s brows squeeze together with her words.
“You think he’d ruin you?” She continues, watching him pathetically rub his hips against the bed. “Bet he’d have you open so easily, wouldn’t he?”
“And his wife—” Tashi drags her nails, wet with his saliva, lightly down his throat, her tone cold but her gaze warm. “She was so pretty, wasn’t she? She’d ride you until you can’t think straight. Until you can’t think at all.”
Art makes a sound—somewhere between a whimper and a mewl—and Tashi laughs, low and delighted, like she enjoys nothing more than watching him fall apart beneath her.
“Maybe she’d like to watch you get fucked by her husband.” Tashi takes him by the chin, pulling him up, close to her face. “You'd love that. You'd come from that.”
His face burns, but he knows better than to argue. Tashi knows him, knows the things he won’t say out loud, the things he can barely admit even to himself. So he just nods, pupils dilated, mouth open— and lets Tashi kiss him, feeling the heat spread from his chest to his fingertips.
He does cry when he comes.
NOTE: I wrote this on my hotel bed... Ik I promised like 3 other fics but I had a vision at the pool and it was like receiving a prophecy I had to share.... I promise I'm writing the other fics...
