Sören had been told to arrive an hour early, so he arrived two hours early, just to be on the safe side - the auction was happening at a conference facility on a skyscraper in Canary Wharf, which always confused Sören even though he'd been living in London for four years now, everything in Canary Wharf looked alike to him with all the glass. But he didn't get too lost, and had some time to spare prior to the hour-before-the-auction. The bachelors were meeting in a private room with a style consultant, and some catering had been left out. Sören made a beeline for Colin and Ed, where Colin was having some punch and Ed was nibbling pretzels.
"Sören, my man." Colin bro-fisted him. "You made it after all."
"Jæja." Even though Sören liked Colin and Ed and they weren't homophobic at all, he tried not to bring too much of his personal life into his job, so they'd only known that Sören and his ex-fiance had broken up - they'd been invited to the wedding, along with some of Sören's other colleagues, along with some of Anthony's colleagues; Sören had never discussed the particulars of what happened. "Decided I might try to... get back in the saddle."
"Yes, good." Ed nodded. "I had a bitter divorce five years ago, she really ridiculed my manhood on the way out, events like this help me feel more... you know." Ed grinned.
Sören nodded too, remembering that final barb.
"What does he have that I don't?"
"A bigger cock, for one thing."
Anthony had never been unkind to him prior to that - always the opposite - and Sören knew he'd said some scathing things when he'd come home to find Anthony in bed with another man, so what had come out of Anthony's mouth had been more of a reaction. It still stung, and moreso that Anthony was willing to throw away close to two years, weeks away from walking down the aisle with him, to get his rocks off with some random guy on Grindr rather than simply talk. "I am not going to beg to get my needs met." In the end, Anthony's pride had been greater than his love, and Sören took a blow to his own pride. He'd avoided dating since that time, hadn't gone cruising, not simply because of his schedule, but he was afraid of getting hurt again.
He had no expectations of finding an actual partner through this bachelor auction. This was something for fun - something fun to do on his birthday, even, rather than sit at home and try not to cry as he wondered what Anthony was doing and resisted the urge to text him back with Come over here and fuck me senseless. When the date came this Friday night, it would be a pleasant diversion, or at best Sören might have his first one-night stand in years. The thought of returning to his old ways, how he'd been in Iceland before he was roofied at a club and woke up in an alley in early 2010... Sören didn't know if he was quite ready for that, or if that was what he wanted at all. But he wanted something other than sleeping alone all the time, using his hand when the need presented itself, fantasizing about Anthony yet again, crying out his name as he climaxed, feeling lonely and stupid and broken later. So this was a step away from that, a step towards... something. Something else.
And then, with Anthony fresh on his mind, Sören's eyes narrowed when he saw him. Scott, the man Sören had caught Anthony with. He couldn't believe it that Scott was going to be one of the bachelors here. Of course, he'd had an idea that Scott and Anthony weren't exactly together, Anthony had claimed it was just sex and Sören was inclined to believe that. Scott was young, early twenties, clean-cut, uni student at the time of the affair who was likely now moved into a white-collar job, kind of bland-looking blue-eyed blond. Sören had done a bit of research after he'd moved out, and Scott's social media presence suggested he was a party boy and rather a bit too sure of himself. One of Scott's social media handles was in fact "Scotty2Hotty" which Sören would have snarked to death if he didn't want to just never think about the man ever. Even if it hadn't been just sex, Anthony would have gotten bored with Scott rather quickly, Sören knew, because for all that Sören had called him a "shallow, materialistic fuck" when shit hit the fan, Anthony was actually not shallow at all behind closed doors and an actual romantic partner would have to be able to keep up with him intellectually and have some sort of personality. Anthony wouldn't have tolerated "Scotty2Hotty's" ego for very long, either.
Or calling himself Scotty2Hotty.
But even with knowing that things had likely long since fizzled out with "Scotty2Hotty" and his ex, it was still an unwelcome reminder of everything, a blast from the past that Sören didn't need or want right now. Sören could not keep the glare off his face, and it seemed that Scott definitely remembered him - Sören had come close to killing him, after all - and Scott gave him a smug smile now, as if to say that's right, I stole your man, bitch.
"Hello... Simon, is it?" Scott sneered.
That did it. Sören wasn't going to even acknowledge him, but the intentional mangling of his name made something snap in his head. "It's Sören, and... fancy meeting you here, Scotty2Hotty." Sören raised an eyebrow. "What's the matter, honey, you can't even get a hookup from Grindr now? You do realize the money being bid tonight is for charity and not going to you, right?"
Ed was talking with some other bachelors but Colin had definitely overheard that and his eyes widened and his jaw dropped. There were probably going to be questions later, questions that Sören really didn't want to get into with Colin, friendly or not.
Scott looked like he'd been slapped in the face - Sören in fact wanted to slap him in the face, the way he'd backhanded Scott on his way out that day - and Sören could feel his tongue sharpening some more, wanting to draw even more blood. He made himself step out before he could make more of a scene than he had, since he was around a couple colleagues and people he knew from the NHS system and he thought he saw at least one or two of Anthony's colleagues as well.
I better not fucking see Anthony bidding. That wasn't really Anthony's style, though, especially not with some of his colleagues and acquaintances on the meat market. He was out, but he was also discreet and professional. Nonetheless, Sören felt a prickle of anxiety as he made his way into the hall, about to take the elevator out to where he could get some air for a few minutes.
Once Sören was outside, breath fogging in the night air, he saw he wasn't alone. There was a very tall man - had at least a foot on him. Platinum blonde hair, a warm golden white, down to his waist. He was wearing sunglasses at night, and a black leather duster over a lacy black tunic with red dragon embroidery, and black trousers. He had an interesting-looking white gold ring on his left index finger that also made Sören feel profoundly uneasy when he looked at it, the cabochon in a setting of a large spider, the stone like an opal, fire and gorgeous flashes of color but also something that for some reason brought Lovecraftian fiction and HR Giger's designs into Sören's mind, a cold frisson down his spine. The man was obviously a bit flamboyant, which suggested he was a musician or artist or into theatre, and his clothing and that ring especially looked expensive, which further suggested to Sören he was one of the buyers.
The man held out a pack of clove cigarettes.
"I don't smoke," Sören said. "And neither should you."
The man gave a bitter little laugh. "I don't. But a lot of people around here do, so I carry a pack on hand to be polite."
"It's not polite to offer people cancer."
"You sound like a doctor." The man raised an eyebrow, and even through the sunglasses Sören swore he could feel the eyes, and it felt like they burned. Sören instinctively took a step away without thinking about it, but didn't leave just yet, breathing in the chilly night air.
"I'm a doctor, yes. Neurosurgeon."
"Ah, so you're one of the bachelors being offered this evening." There was a note of amusement in the man's voice.
Sören saw no point in lying, and the question confirmed his suspicion that the man was there for the meat market. "That I am."
"Intriguing."
Sören wanted to spit. Anthony had called him "intriguing" on their first date, in 2011. That was the last word he wanted to hear directed at himself now. Sören knew there was no way this guy could possibly have telepathy and poke at a raw wound for whatever reason, but he was startled enough to go back inside without saying another word.
By the time Sören got back up to the room, the bachelors were being picked off one by one to meet with the style consultant. They had been encouraged to not arrive in the outfit that they were going to wear at the auction but only put it on just before the auction, to keep it clean and in case the style consultant found something more suitable.
Sören had decided to go with his black leather bomber, black leather pants, and a white button-down shirt with a black vest, which he had in a bag. When it got to be his turn, after he changed out of his jeans and T-shirt into that, the style consultant gave him the once-over, and Sören braced himself, because so far everyone he'd seen come out of that little back room was in a suit and tie. But that wasn't him. The clean-cut, buttoned-up Anthony had liked being with a rough-looking "bad boy" and Sören was going to be selling that package - the real him - at the auction.
He braced himself, and the too-heavily-made-up, too-coiffeured style consultant said, simply, "Very nice, dearie."
"So I can wear this?"
She nodded. "Oh yes. It'll be brilliant to offer something different."
"Oh, good." Sören breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't even know why it mattered, since this date probably wasn't going to go anywhere.
"So that's part one."
"What... what's part two." Sören's face fell.
"You need to pick out a song."
"A... song."
The consultant nodded.
"I don't understand. Don't I just get on the mic and say a few things about myself -"
"You give us a few things to say about you, we word it cleverly - that way if someone is feeling a bit awkward with words in front of a crowd, that won't hurt their bidding - and then you... present yourself to your song."
"Present." Sören raised an eyebrow. He felt like if it was raised any higher, his eyebrow would fall right off. "You mean, like... do a dance?"
"That's encouraged. Or at least walk around, show the goods. But yes, we'd like you to dance. In fact... we'd like you to undress a little, if you're fine doing that."
Sören's face burned. He couldn't believe he was agreeing to any of this. "OK."
"So we'll start with... what would you like us to say about you?"
"I'm a surgeon, obviously, and... I guess... in my spare time I draw and paint, and..." It was sad that Sören had so little spare time that he couldn't think of much he did in that spare time other than make art, eat, and sleep. And have the occasional wank to my ex. "I like kittens." Sören and Anthony both loved cats, but Sören hadn't felt right about getting a cat working seventy-two hours or more each week, so they hadn't adopted a cat. Sören gave a little wistful sigh, thinking of how cute Anthony would be with a baby kitten...
"Right. And your song?"
Sören thought for a minute and then he snickered. "'Pony' by Ginuwine." If he was going to be slutty enough to strip and have people bid on him, then it was go big or go home.
There was a discreet area where the bachelors could watch the other bachelors being bid on, both before and after their auctions. Sören was close to the end of the queue and he doubted he was going to stay after, but Colin and Ed were closer to the beginning and were clearly enjoying all of this, having a beer.
One of Anthony's colleagues, a tall, well-built, bald Black lawyer named Craig, went first. "He's a barrister with an interest in cooking, wine tasting, and sampling delicious ladies, here is Craig Morrison."
Oh my god that is so forward. Even Sören's face was burning, and it took a lot for him to be flustered.
Craig came out in a suit and tie and began to dance to "Candy Shop" by 50 Cent... taking off his suit jacket, throwing his tie at a pretty blonde, unbuttoning slowly as he gyrated his hips, like he was a professional dancer and had been practicing for this.
I'll take you to the candy shop
I'll let you lick the lollipop
Go 'head girl don't you stop
Keep going 'til you hit the spot, whoa
"I've got five hundred quid, do I hear six. Seven hundred quid do I hear eight. Nine hundred quid."
Sören thought Anthony would absolutely die, rolling on the floor, if he could see this now. God, I miss Anthony.
"One thousand. Going once..."
Craig had a terrific body, clearly working out in addition to all that cuisine and wine tasting. If Craig was gay and Sören had been one of the bidders, he'd be tempted to burn six thousand quid just to burn Anthony by fucking one of his colleagues, but he wasn't, and his time would come soon enough. Sören watched as a very eager, very pretty Black woman in a red skirtsuit won the auction, waving her hands frantically, blowing a kiss at Craig, who winked at her.
Ed was next. "Don't be fooled by the dad bod, this neurologist knows all the right moves and he'd love to dance with you! Ladies, this is Edmund Davies!" Ed came out and did a dorky white boy dance to "If I Only Knew" by Tom Jones - keeping his suit on - and amazingly, got a lady to spend two thousand pounds on him.
"Equal parts brain and brawn, this hunky neurosurgeon likes motorcycling, rock climbing, parkour and jogging as well as being a history buff and having a keen interest in science and sci-fi movies, ladies say hello to Colin Traynor!"
Colin bro-fisted Sören and Ed on his way out, stripping to "Let's Go Crazy" by Prince. Sören tried not to notice that his very straight colleague was so gorgeous, milk chocolate physique rippling as he strutted sensuously across the stage. The ladies were eating him alive.
"Eight hundred quid, do I hear nine hundred. One thousand quid, GOING ONCE..."
Jesus fucking Christ, someone spent a thousand quid on fucking Colin. Sören couldn't believe it. He had no idea what people usually spent at these things - before now, he would have been happy if the Children's Hospital got five hundred pounds for an evening of his time.
A few more bachelors passed and then it was time for "Scotty2Hotty". Sören didn't want to watch, but it was like a trainwreck.
"Accountant by day, athlete by night, gents may I present to you Scott Stewart."
Scott came out, looking as smug as anything, dancing to "I'm Too Sexy" by Right Said Fred. Amusingly to Sören, Scott got a grand total of two hundred quid before the auction closed. Sören couldn't help thinking the gay and bi men in the audience saw a diva and knew better, though he also wondered if people were being perhaps more tight-fisted now that some very sizeable bids had come in. He still couldn't believe the thousand pounds on Colin Fucking Traynor, the goofball who once laughed so hard he snorted Jello in the cafeteria.
Not that he could talk, considering some of Anthony's goofier moments, which only made Anthony even sexier to him when they happened. Sören gave a wistful sigh...
This sucks. Maybe I should call him.
And then it was Sören's turn. All the blood rushed to Sören's head when he got up, heart pounding. "Break a leg, mate," Ed cheered on Sören's way out.
"This neurosurgeon is a Viking bad boy on the outside, but on the inside he's a sensitive artist who likes kittens. He's also the only bachelor here tonight who can be bid on by both ladies and gentlemen... all the way from Reykjavik, Iceland please say hello to Sören Sigurðsson!"
God, what the fuck.
And like that, he was out there in front of a few dozen people in his leather jacket, leather pants, button-down shirt and vest, already starting to sweat. He was tempted to bolt. But "Pony" was starting and he'd agreed to do this.
Pretend Anthony is out there and you want to piss him off.
Sören began to work his hips, thrusting sensuously, suggestively in time with the music.
I'm just a bachelor
I'm looking for a partner
Someone who knows how to ride
Without even falling off
"One hundred, two, two hundred, three."
Sören turned around and put his ass into it too, starting to peel off his jacket.
Gotta be compatible
Takes me to my limits
Girl when I break you off
I promise that you won't want to get off
"Four hundred, four, five hundred, six -"
If you're horny, let's do it
Ride it, my pony
My saddle's waiting
Come and jump on it
The leather jacket was off now. "One thousand," said the creepy guy with the gold-white hair and funky ring that Sören had encountered outside.
Sören's eyes widened but he was determined to not let his jaw drop. They hadn't hit ten thousand and he jumped right ahead to one hundred thousand? He really did not want to go on a date with this guy, and the dramatic bid hike made him even more apprehensive.
Then as he started to take off his vest, he heard a deep, velvet voice say "Fifteen hundred."
Sören's eyes were directed to the voice - a man who was sitting on the opposite end of the room from Creepy Guy, and shooting him the filthiest look. A silver fox, handsome in a severe way with high cheekbones, a patrician nose, heavy-lidded dark eyes, thick salt-and-pepper brows, wearing a black cape with a silver Celtic knot clasp over a black tunic. Elegant.
Sören's dance was directed at him now. He began to unbutton his shirt, locking eyes with him, continuing to roll his hips.
If you're horny, let's do it
Ride it, my pony
My saddle's waiting
Come and jump on it
The two men were in a bidding war. "Two thousand," the smoking man insisted. "Three," the older man shot back.
Sören was shirtless now, vest and jacket kicked aside, only wearing leather pants and his Doc Martens boots, his tattoos and nipple piercings proudly on display. He threw his shirt at the old man and continued to bump and grind, thrusting his crotch, shaking his ass. He thought of all the ways he'd taken Anthony, and the ways Anthony had taken him, and what it would be like to experience that with the sexy-voiced silver daddy, who was staring at Sören with heat in his eyes.
"Four thousand," Creepy Guy said as the song was winding to a close. Sören gave it his all, moving even more suggestively than before, fucking the older man with his eyes.
"Five thousand." The older man's voice rang out and his eyes narrowed.
Creepy Guy folded his arms and shook his head, and the older man had a small, victorious, defiant smile on his face.
"Five thousand pounds," the auctioneer said, her voice raspy with disbelief. "Five thousand quid going once, going twice, SOLD."
Now Sören's jaw dropped. His eyes locked with the silver daddy's one last time before he collected his jacket and vest and ducked into the waiting area where Colin and Ed were screaming and howling with laughter.
"SOMEONE BID FIVE THOUSAND FUCKING QUID?" Ed bellowed. "I can't bloody believe it..."
"I can't either." Sören was in shock.
And as much as that older man was sexy as hell, and he felt a small glow of pride that he'd spent a literal fortune for a date - money that would be well-used, for a good cause, no less - and was many times as much as the final bid Scott had received... Sören found he was as concerned as he was proud about it. What could that old man possibly want that he would spend five thousand quid for? Was his life about to turn into Fifty Shades of Grey?
He'd soon find out.
chapter 3 | return to Learning To Fly | return to Other Tolkien Fic | return to index