Despite Sören saying he wanted to just cuddle with Anthony, he fell asleep not long after the frot handjob, the electrifying orgasm so intense that he couldn't help but pass out. But in the middle of the night Sören's body woke him up to pee, and when he climbed back into Anthony's bed, Anthony rolled against him and hugged him tight, snuggling into Sören's shoulder as he made a half-awake noise. "You're cozy," Anthony mumbled.
Sören fondly tousled Anthony's hair and kissed the top of his head. He smiled at Anthony's sleepy smile, and let out a happy little sigh as Anthony moved even closer. Then he groaned as his cock stirred again at the proximity of Anthony's naked body against his. Already, Sören was regretting the rule he'd imposed for them to be just friends, no sex, for at least a year, since rebuilding the broken trust would take time, and specific actions over time. But as much as Sören's body wanted to roll Anthony onto his back, shower him with kisses, and ride Anthony until the dawn, Sören resisted. He had to stick to what he'd said, to make absolutely sure history wouldn't repeat itself and create even more damage than before.
And it was nice to just cuddle. Almost too nice; Sören felt a wistful ache, remembering what it was like to cuddle with Anthony in bed when they were together years ago, snuggling, spooning, how safe and warm and right it felt. It still felt right, even though it was the wrong time.
Anthony still felt like home.
Sören started to rub Anthony's back, and a moment later Anthony began to rock both of them. Anthony picked his head up and they rubbed noses, then Anthony rubbed his nose against Sören's beard, making Sören laugh before he kissed the tip of Anthony's nose.
"I love you so much," Anthony said, his voice husky from sleep. "I know you need time, but..."
"It doesn't change how you feel. Or how I feel." Sören kissed his brow. "I love you too." Sören's arms tightened around him.
They just held each other for awhile before going back to sleep, basking in the lazy calm of being tangled up together, the sweetness of how they fit together, how even after all this time and everything that had happened, there was still a sense that they belonged. Sören could feel how much Anthony loved him, expressed through the strength of Anthony holding him, and the vulnerability of being held. And Sören expressed that right back. They breathed each other's breath, and the problems of the world seemed far away.
In the morning Sören awoke to a cold empty place beside him, which made him frown and whine a little, reaching out to something not there. As he opened his eyes Sören remembered that Anthony typically got up before he did on mornings when Sören didn't have to be up by a set time; Sören was not a morning person.
Sören changed - he would worry about showering when he got back home - and he went in the direction of where he heard movement, which was coming from the kitchen. Anthony was in blue plaid pajama bottoms and a lighter blue T-shirt, his hair mussed. He gave Sören a little wave. "You're just in time for tea," he said.
Anthony poured tea for both of them and they sat at the kitchen table together, eating scones Elaine had set out for them. "Mum's at the store, she should be back shortly," Anthony said, and then he gave a little frown. "I suppose you're going to want to head back?"
Sören nodded. "Nick will be expecting me home when he gets off campus. He has a short day today and will be home sometime between noon and one."
"OK. Well..." Anthony sighed. "Thank you for spending the night, even though..."
Sören reached across the table, took his hands and squeezed. Sören kissed them before he let go. "It was still nice to cuddle with you."
"Yeah, it was."
"But we probably shouldn't do any spending the night for a bit. It's too tempting."
Anthony chuckled. Their eyes met and held; Anthony blushed and bit his lower lip, which made Sören want to throw him down on the table and maul him. "This is going to be a long year," Anthony said before he picked up his mug and took a sip of tea, giving Sören a pointed look over his mug.
Sören nodded. "For you and me both."
"But..." Anthony put his mug down and exhaled sharply. "Even though we're, I suppose, not officially back together... I assume we're going to keep seeing each other?"
"Well, yeah, that was the plan," Sören said. "I'd still like to keep spending time with you, we just can't spend the night. Really, the only thing that's changing here is we're not officially back together and we're not sleeping together. My feelings haven't changed. Wanting to see you hasn't changed."
"OK." Anthony nodded. "This is going to be difficult, but I can manage so long as you're... not gone." And then Anthony started to cry. He covered his face with his hands, seemingly ashamed of himself, as he heaved with quiet sobs. "Jesus. I'm sorry..."
"Oh god." Sören felt like his heart and his stomach traded places. This wasn't an act; here was living proof that their separation had hurt Anthony just as much, that Anthony had missed Sören as much as Sören had missed Anthony. Sören felt like he was dying a little inside to see just how much Anthony hurt at the prospect of fading out of his life again. He found himself getting up from the table, getting down on his knees on the floor beside Anthony, and taking Anthony into his arms, rocking him. "It's OK. I'm not going anywhere." He pulled Anthony's hands from his face and gave him a stern look. "So long as you behave." He poked the tip of Anthony's nose to offer a vote of confidence.
"Being without you hurt so much." Anthony made a little strangled noise and fell apart again. Sören blinked back tears of his own. "I'm sorry. I don't -"
"It's OK." Sören leaned in and stroked Anthony's tears with his thumbs and fingers. He wanted to kiss them, but he knew that would lead to kissing him, and that would probably lead to a blowjob or something that would go against the wait-a-year policy. Sören wanted so very badly to be inside him, and be filled by him, the promise that nothing would come between them again. But he had to follow his own rule.
That was when Elaine walked in, carrying groceries. "Elaine, do you need help with anything?" Sören asked.
"No, dear, I'm fine. It was just a small trip to the store." Elaine tousled Sören's curls as she walked past. She loaded her bags onto the counter and promptly began putting away things that needed to go in the freezer and refrigerator. "How did you sleep?"
"Well," Sören said.
"That's good. I worry about you getting enough sleep with all those hours you put in."
Sören tried not to wince; Elaine had witnessed the hell of his last couple of months with Anthony, where Sören was working a hundred hours a week and ended up microsleeping involuntarily because he was critically exhausted. While the last fortnight hadn't been as bad, it had still taken its toll. But then he felt a little bit of warmth, knowing Elaine cared about him. He'd missed that. That, too, had been part of why the separation from Anthony had hurt so much; Elaine and Roger were the first real family he'd had apart from his siblings and cousin.
"Were the scones enough?" Elaine asked then. "Do you need more of a breakfast -"
"The scones were good and já, it was enough. Actually, I'll need to head back soon, I want to get home before Nick does."
"All right. I'd be happy to drive you back once I get the groceries put away -"
"I'm not in a big rush. If you want to sit and relax and have some tea first, that's fine with me."
That was what Elaine did. Anthony got showered and changed while Elaine took a break, and Sören was able to tell that it was in fact a bit of a production, hearing Anthony curse down the hall as he messed around with a shower chair and having to maneuver around. Sören felt a pang of sympathy, but more than that, he felt an ache, wishing he could join Anthony in the shower, finding a way to help him feel better about the whole thing by making the shower playful and sensual. Once again, Sören was questioning his sanity at needing to wait a year to rebuild trust. And his face was on fire, not wanting to get worked up thinking about Anthony naked in the shower, in front of Anthony's own mother.
Anthony came out on his cane, hair damp, wearing faded jeans and a charcoal grey T-shirt. "Will you be joining us for the ride?" Elaine asked.
Immediately at the word ride, Sören's mind went even deeper into the gutter. It didn't help that Anthony looked delicious with his hair still wet and a little messy, and smelled delicious fresh from the shower. Sören fought back mental images of rimming him, sucking him...
Anthony shook his head. "I already feel frustrated enough from the shower without having to get in and out of a vehicle. No offense, Sören."
"None taken," Sören said. "I suppose I should hug you goodbye now, then."
Anthony nodded. Sören got up and went over to him, and they held each other tight. The proximity of Anthony's body and the scent of him made that longing even worse. Sören fought the urge to kiss him. "Thank you, again," Sören said.
"Thank you." Their eyes met. "Shall I visit you at the National on Friday afternoon?"
"Please do," Sören said. The thought of seeing Anthony again filled him with a giddy happiness, even if they were just going to be friends for now.
"OK." Anthony gave a shy little smile that made Sören want to slam him against the wall, tear off his jeans, and...
Sören tried to get his mind off the thought of getting Anthony off as Elaine drove him back to Covent Garden. But his mind kept replaying the scene from last night, the way he'd relieved them by taking both cocks into his hand, stroking them together. Replaying the way Anthony's cock had spent all over his cock. Wanting more. He kept having fantasies of what they could have done together last night if he hadn't imposed the wait-a-year rule, what they could have done this morning in the shower. Memories of times they'd made love before, what Anthony looked like and sounded like in the throes of passion, what his touch felt like...
Every nerve in Sören's body was screaming for sexual release by the time he got out of Elaine's car. Though Sören hated taking the lift by himself, he didn't want to ask Elaine to go with him, feeling self-conscious about his claustrophobia. But once he was in the lift, he tried to distract himself from the panic by thinking about Nicholas holding him, the deep, sexy voice soothing him with Daddy's here, Daddy's got you, and now Sören began fantasizing about Nicholas as well, wanting to rub his nose in the silver pelt, wanting to lick him all over, wanting to ride him. By the time the lift chimed at the top floor, Sören was rock hard, his trousers tented, and his hands were shaking as he worked his key in the door.
Tobias greeted him at the door, meowing and circling around Sören's ankles like he hadn't seen people in days as opposed to just a few hours. Sören checked to make sure Tobias had food - there was still plenty in his dish, though Tobias gave him big eyes and a "I can see the bottom of my dish" meow - and then he washed his hands, a force of habit when he got home, and got to work. Nicholas didn't insist Sören "earn his keep", especially when Sören worked so many hours, and Nicholas did a good job of keeping things tidy, but Sören still insisted on doing what he could when he had time to spare. Now Sören tackled the cat boxes, in part as a kindness to Nicholas, and in part to try to distract himself from the cock cock cock craving; there were few things unsexier than cleaning a litterbox.
Tobias came over to "supervise" as Sören scooped the boxes, dumping the litter clumps into a trash bag. Sören chuckled, and laughed harder as Tobias began to meow, as if he were asking "Why are you taking my poop?" When the cat boxes had been scooped, Sören put the trash bag in the kitchen garbage, washed his hands again, and decided now would be a good time to shower.
Unfortunately, even with the unsexiness of the cat boxes, being naked in the shower got Sören going again, his mind playing a steamy fantasy of Nicholas getting home just then and joining him in the shower. Sören tried to push those thoughts away, not wanting to be all worked up like this, but he only partially succeeded, his body aching for touch as he made his way to the bedroom he and Nicholas shared.
He needed more distraction. Sören put on red plaid pajama bottoms and a black T-shirt - he could put on actual clothes if they were going out later - and he went downstairs to the hall closet. He retrieved the vacuum cleaner and took it back upstairs. He always started with the upstairs, and worked his way down. He felt a little guilty as Tobias climbed to the top of the wardrobe in their bedroom, ears folded down, watching with fear, and made a mental note to make up for it later by giving the cat some treats.
Once he was downstairs he hoped Tobias would feel safe enough to get down from the top of the wardrobe, but he also knew from past experience the cat could stay up there for quite awhile, until he was absolutely sure the danger had passed. Sören felt guilty again, and the cat's own fear reminded Sören of his fears - he wished he didn't still have such panic about the elevator in their building. That of course led him to think about how good Nicholas was for accompanying him in the lift whenever he was around, the safety of Nicholas's arms, the shield wall of his chest...
And there it was again, that surge in Sören's libido, wanting to suck Nicholas like the vacuum was sucking on the rug. The vacuum was loud enough that Sören didn't hear the keys in the door, and his startle response kicked in when the door opened, even though it was just Nicholas. Nicholas jumped at Sören jumping; he was carrying a cup of coffee as if he'd stopped at a cafe on the way home and it spilled over his shirt. Sören felt bad about laughing, but he couldn't help it, and then Nicholas laughed too, and their eyes met.
"You're just in time for the wet T-shirt contest," Sören quipped.
Nicholas facepalmed with his free hand, chuckling.
"Here." Sören shut off the vacuum cleaner; he was almost done, anyway. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault, dear -"
"Well, still." Sören walked over to him. "Let's get that shirt off you and in the wash." And then as soon as Sören began helping Nicholas out of his shirt, the hunger consumed him and he slammed Nicholas against the door, kissing him hard as he unbuttoned the shirt. Nicholas groaned into the kiss and let out a moan as Sören began to kiss down his neck and throat, began to kiss the flesh exposed with each button, licking the chest hair.
When the shirt was completely unbuttoned, Nicholas removed it, and Sören ran his hands over Nicholas's chest, rubbed his nose in the chest hair, before giving Nicholas another deep, passionate kiss. Sören followed Nicholas to the laundry hamper in the hall, and Sören marched with the hamper to the washer and dryer. They put clothing in the washing machine together, and it turned into a sort of mating dance with fingers brushing, little touches, plenty of eye contact. As soon as the washing machine was started, Sören grabbed Nicholas and kissed him again, and then Sören found himself undoing Nicholas's belt and trousers, dropping to his knees, and looking into Nicholas's eyes as he moved closer to the hard cock. Nicholas took Sören's head in his hands and guided him yet closer, and gasped as Sören leaned in to take a lick at the head of his cock. "Oh, love..." Nicholas closed his eyes and sighed, then his eyes met Sören's again, fierce and predatory. One of his hands slid down from Sören's curls to touch his face as Sören's hand wrapped around the shaft and he just licked at the cock again and again, teasing.
At last Sören drew the head of Nicholas's cock into his mouth, sucking slowly, rubbing his tongue as he sucked. Nicholas moaned and shivered, and his fists tightened in Sören's curls. "Mmmmmmm," Sören moaned, savoring the feel of Nicholas's cock in his mouth, the taste, the reactions. Sören's own cock throbbed painfully in his pajama bottoms.
"Darling." Nicholas stroked Sören's face again, and trembled. "Sweetheart..."
"Mmmmmmmmm." Sören took the cock out of his mouth and husked, "I missed my Daddy," before he took another long, slow, deliberate lick, and another. He licked and licked, watching Nicholas, wanting. Sören guided the cock back into his mouth and took more of it in, still sucking slowly.
After a few minutes Sören sucked harder, faster. Nicholas's moans got louder, his breath more ragged. Sören's balls tightened, and Sören could feel precum dripping in his pajama bottoms. He wanted to taste Nicholas, but he wanted Nicholas inside him, too. He wanted everything. He felt like he was going out of his mind with how much he wanted, needed.
Nicholas pulled back, and Sören gasped for breath, groaned at the lewd, debauched sight of a streamer of precum clinging to his face, Nicholas's cock glistening and dripping precum. Nicholas collected the drop with his fingers before it could drip down to the floor, and pushed his fingers into Sören's mouth. Sören's cock jolted as he sucked at Nicholas's fingers, and again as he licked them clean.
"Upstairs," Nicholas rasped.
They were both hard, and couldn't help chuckling at the sight of their hard cocks bobbing as they made their way up the steps. Once they reached the top of the stairs, Sören grabbed Nicholas and kissed him fiercely, and they kissed all the way to the bedroom. In the bedroom Nicholas took command, marching Sören back to the bed, pushing him down on the bed and climbing on top of him with a hungry look that sent a frisson down Sören's spine. Sören took off his shirt and Nicholas moaned at the sight of Sören shirtless, nipples peaked.
Nicholas yanked down Sören's pajama bottoms and he returned the favor, diving down and taking Sören's cock into his mouth, sucking hard, like he was starving for it. Sören gasped and bucked, clutching Nicholas's head. For someone who had been a priest and lived a life of celibacy, Nicholas had learned well over these last few months, putting his skills to work, devouring Sören's cock. It didn't take long for Sören to get right on that edge, shaking, whimpering.
Before Sören could come in Nicholas's mouth, Nicholas rose up, and quietly reached for the lubricant they kept by the bed. He sank down and claimed Sören's mouth in a kiss that made Sören feel like he could come untouched. He poured lube over his cock and Sören worked it in, hands rubbing Nicholas's cock, as Nicholas kissed him again, then kissed and licked Sören's neck, down to his shoulders, down to a nipple. As Nicholas lapped and suckled at an aching nub, his slick fingers stole between Sören's legs, one finger then two, finding that spot inside him and stroking it. Sören cried out, and again as Nicholas sucked the nipple harder, his tongue lashing fiercely before he turned to the other.
Back and forth Nicholas went between Sören's nipples as his fingers played inside him. When Sören was ready, Nicholas spread and lifted Sören's legs, and pushed inside. They both moaned when Nicholas bottomed out in him. Then Nicholas leaned down and whispered, "Daddy's home, sweetheart," before he began to thrust.
That was exactly what Sören needed. Sören's arms held Nicholas tight and they kissed deeply as Nicholas's cock glided in and out of him. "Daddy," Sören called out. "Daddy, I love you..."
"I love you, darling." Nicholas rained kisses over Sören's face, and then kissed his mouth again. Their tongues played together between kisses and the sultry look Nicholas gave him made Sören's cock throb, made Sören guide Nicholas's hand to his cock to stroke it as Nicholas's cock hit that sweet spot inside him just right.
"Oh, Daddy." Sören bit his lip and groaned with a shudder. "Oh god, Daddy, I need it..."
"Such fire in you, my love." Nicholas kissed him again. "I love coming home to you this way."
"Mmmmmm." Sören smiled and kissed him back. "I love welcoming you home. Our home." Their eyes met. "Our life."
Something about that brought out the passion in Nicholas, even wilder, and Sören whimpered into the kiss as Nicholas began to thrust harder, faster. Soon Sören's nails were digging into his back, rocking his hips back at Nicholas as the older man slammed into him with the vigor and force of someone much younger, taking him, making Sören feel claimed, conquered. Sören loved it, panting "more, Daddy, more," in time with their rhythm. Soon he couldn't make words at all, only strangled little sobs as Nicholas's hand worked his cock harder, getting him right there and keeping him there, lost in the glory of sex, where all that existed was their bodies, their pleasure, their want.
The stroking of his cock and rubbing inside him felt more and more intense, pleasure wound tighter and higher until Sören shattered, screaming as he came all over Nicholas's chest and stomach. "That's my boy," Nicholas said, stroking him through his climax. "That's my good boy. That's Daddy's good boy, that's my boy..." And then Nicholas shuddered and Sören knew he was about to come. "Oh god." Nicholas trembled again and made a feral noise as he spent inside Sören. Sören shot off another arc of cream, moaning with him. Nicholas kissed him, shivering against him, and Sören's arms tightened around him and they rocked together, laughing and rubbing noses in the bliss of release.
"I love you." Nicholas kissed Sören's cheeks and nose and chin. "I love you, sweetheart."
"I love you." Sören stroked Nicholas's cheek, skritched his whiskers. Nicholas smiled and leaned into Sören's touch.
Then Tobias let out a meow from on top of the wardrobe. Nicholas facepalmed, shaking with full-bodied laughter. "Tobias! Were you watching this entire time, you rapscallion?"
Tobias meowed again. He hopped down from the wardrobe, and a moment later he bounded onto the bed, joining them, purring.
Sören and Nicholas both reached out to stroke the cat. Sören thought there were few things better in life than being tangled up with his lover in the afterglow of a good orgasm, with a sweet, adorable cat purring next to them. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, fingers and toes curling. Nicholas trailed little kisses along Sören's jaw, rubbed his nose in Sören's beard, and gave him one last sweet kiss as he pulled out. Then he rolled onto his side and pulled Sören into his chest. Sören made a little noise of contentment as he listened to Nicholas's heartbeat, felt the wonderful comfort of Nicholas's fur, the solidity of his chest and the arms around him. Just like that, Sören fell asleep.
He woke a little while later. Nicholas was awake, watching him with a fond smile on his face, petting his curls.
"Hi," Sören mumbled sleepily. He yawned and stretched, then made a noise when he looked at the time.
"I was thinking about waking you so I could start dinner," Nicholas said. "But I'm also not exactly in a rush to disentangle from you."
"Mmmmmm." Sören snuggled against him. "You feel so good, Daddy."
"You do too." Nicholas kissed the top of Sören's head. Then he looked into Sören's eyes. "How did it go last night?"
"Oh, it was nice," Sören said, nodding.
Nicholas nodded too, and Sören decided just to tell him. "We didn't have sex," Sören said.
"Oh."
While Nicholas tried to keep his expression neutral, Sören thought he detected the slightest bit of relief in Nicholas's body language - the way his posture straightened up as he'd asked about Anthony, and now he relaxed again.
"Well, let me rephrase that. I gave us a handjob, but that was it, and it was because we were all worked up." Sören pursed his lips. "I've been thinking a lot about the situation with Anthony, and while I love him and I want to forgive him, I also can't change the fact that he did a tremendous amount of damage and it's not the sort of thing I can instantaneously get over. So I told him last night I'm going to need at least a year before we resume intimacy, because I'll need that long for him to prove to me that the issues that contributed to why things went bad, are being resolved."
"I think that's prudent. As you know, I gave you my permission to resume intimacy with him, but I admit I'm glad you're holding off for now."
"For now." Sören nodded.
"So..." Nicholas cocked his head to one side. "I assume you are asking him to prove his trustworthiness, somehow."
"I told him he needs to go to therapy. Not just because of the trauma of the accident but he got bullied as a kid and it continues to affect him. I should really be in therapy myself, so I'm going to look into what I can do with therapy online to save myself time having to commute back and forth to a clinic, being able to squeeze in sessions here and there like maybe on a break or something."
Nicholas hugged Sören hard. "That's a big step. I'm proud of you."
"Hi Proud Of You -"
Nicholas gave Sören a stern look, then he kissed the tip of Sören's nose, far less stern.Their eyes met and Nicholas said, "How do you feel about inviting him to Sunday dinner?"
"Nick." Sören was pleased and surprised... and a little worried. "I don't want to impose, if you'd rather it just be, you know... us."
Nicholas laughed too.
"And," Sören went on, "part of what went wrong with Anthony was he kept trying to make his friends be my friends - the 'squad' - and we didn't mesh. I'm not gonna lie, it would be easier on me if you guys were friends, but... I don't want to make that same mistake -"
"First of all, I think that you didn't mesh because he had, as you put it, the shitty 'squad'." Nicholas also made quotes. Then he facepalmed, chuckling again. "I can't believe I'm using slang."
"Rapscallion was slang from, like, the ninth century. Just saying."
Nicholas glared. "It was not from the ninth century, Sören Sigurðsson."
"My bad. The third century." Sören patted him. "I guess you'd know it wasn't from the ninth century, because you were there."
Nicholas swatted Sören's ass. Sören giggled, blew a raspberry into his shoulder, and then pinched Nicholas's cheek. Nicholas rolled his eyes but gave Sören an indulgent smile. "Brat," Nicholas said.
Then Nicholas sobered, though his eyes were still twinkling, and he continued, "It's true that not everyone gets on with everyone. But we simply won't know until we try, and I daresay we have more going for us than Anthony's friends did. Probably more compatible interests -"
"He likes cats, and gardening, and books. But Nick, you're sure this is OK?" Sören swallowed hard. "I don't want you to feel obligated, I don't want you to feel like our time is being intruded on..."
"If Anthony is going to be one of your partners, whether now or later, I feel it would be better if we were at least cordial with one another, if not friends," Nicholas said. "I was reluctant to the idea, yes, but I have been warming to it." Nicholas stroked Sören's chin. "I think it helps to receive the reassurances that you are not going anywhere. That you still... want me."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Sören kissed the tip of his nose. "You're stuck with me." Then Sören looked at the cum dried on Nicholas's chest and stomach and snorted. "And just plain sticky."
"Oh god." Nicholas turned beetroot.
When they calmed down, Nicholas said, "So yes, please invite him to Sunday dinner, on my behalf, if you don't mind."
"I don't mind," Sören said. "I'm seeing him on Friday, he's coming in to -"
"Tell him now," Nicholas said, and grabbed Sören's cell from the bedtable, handing it to him. "In fact, I'll tell him myself, so that way he knows the invitation is sincere."
Sören took the cell phone, impressed with Nicholas's instincts - he didn't know Anthony well, but nonetheless still seemed to know how Anthony would react. Sören speed-dialed Anthony's number, and when Anthony answered, Sören said, "Hey, Anthony, I have someone here who wants to ask you a question."
"Oh god -"
Sören handed the phone to Nicholas who asked, "Anthony, are you free Sunday night? Nicholas and I would like you to come to dinner."
chapter 7 | return to Learning To Fly | return to Other Tolkien Fic | return to index