On Tuesday after Sören got off work, he and Anthony went to St. James Park to watch the pelicans, and then they went to Starbucks - it had been awhile. Anthony took a table and Sören went up for both of them, getting a hazelnut with no whip for Anthony and a chocolate espresso with whipped cream for himself. It wasa bit busier than Sören would have liked, and he saw Anthony glancing around the room, looking a bit nervous. Then their eyes met and Anthony tried not to grin as he sipped at his drink.
"What?" Sören raised an eyebrow.
Anthony stopped trying to hold back the smile. "You have whipped cream on your nose."
"Jesus." Sören wiped his nose, not able to believe he'd done it again. But Anthony's eyes were soft, his cheeks a little pink, and he reached over and booped Sören's nose after Sören wiped it. Now Sören's face was on fire for an entirely different reason and he decided this was the window he needed for the "where do we go from here" talk. People or no people, the time was now.
Just as Sören opened his mouth, Anthony's eyes caught something in the cafe, then his eyes widened with alarm and he hissed, "oh shiiiiiiit".
Before Sören could ask what it was, his gaze landed on Steve, Anthony's former friend - and arguably the biggest asshole in Anthony's former friends group next to Trisha. Steve was short, with a mop of auburn hair, light brown eyes, a cleft chin, and a default facial expression that always seemed a bit smug. He was wearing a light blue button-down shirt and black trousers, and appeared to be alone, though he was checking his watch like he was waiting for someone. Sören bit back the urge to spit like an angry cat, all the old nasty feelings about Anthony's old "squad" and the damage they'd done to his and Anthony's relationship, rushing back to him.
And before Sören could suggest to just act casual, Steve seemed to sense he was being stared at and now he looked back at them and got the same sort of amused, aloof smile on his face that Sören recognized with Anthony just before Anthony made a "gotcha".
That was not good. That was not good at all. That suggested trouble. All the warning bells in Sören's head were going off now, his stomach a pit of ice.
Sören and Anthony looked at each other across the table. Sören took a sip of his drink and got up. "Come on," he said. "Let's get out of here."
Anthony nodded and rose from the table on his cane. They walked out of the cafe with their drinks, and Sören was just going to wait out here for a cab - Anthony had already done a lot of walking today. But before Sören could get out his cell phone to call one, there was Steve.
"Anthony. Bro. You're just gonna walk out without saying hi first?" Steve made a noise, pretending to be offended. "Rude."
"Steve... leave us alone." Anthony glared at him.
Steve snorted. "Or what? You're gonna act tough in front of your boyfriend here, show off with a little fisticuffs? Or maybe use those advanced mind powers that the media likes to portray all crips as developing to compensate? You gonna go Professor X on my arse, huh?"
"He doesn't need powers to be more advanced than you, you ignorant fucking amoeba," Sören snapped, wanting to slap him.
Steve laughed like he found this hilarious. "So you guys are back together, huh? Did you take pity on him?"
"I missed his big cock," Sören said. That wasn't entirely a lie, but it was also not the sort of thing he'd announce as the reason for them getting back together, since it had never been just sex with them. However, he'd always gotten the sense Steve was just a little homophobic - Anthony had been the token gay friend to show the world he wasn't a bigot - and sure enough, Steve seemed uncomfortable thinking about it.
"Can he even get it up anymore? You know, being crippled and all."
"Steve... you're bloody pathetic." Anthony gave him a look of utter contempt. "You bore me, go find something to do."
"Oh no. This is very entertaining." And with that, Steve lunged forward and grabbed Anthony's cane away from him. "I always wanted to watch a crip dance -"
Anthony, of course, needed that cane for balance because of his spine, and without it he started to fall. Just before he could hit the pavement, Sören dipped and caught him. Anthony was breathing harder, pupils blown wide, having a panic attack from the near-fall, and Sören's eyes teared up, furious for that... knowing it was triggering the hurt, bullied boy that Anthony had once been. Anthony's own eyes were too bright and Sören found himself babbling, trying to soothe Anthony before he could have a meltdown right there on the street and cause a scene and make this even worse for himself. "Shhh, it's all right," Sören said. "I got you. You didn't fall. I caught you. I got you. You're safe in my arms. You're safe, I got you..."
Steve was walking backwards, twirling the cane like a baton, laughing.
"HEY!" Sören shouted down the street. "YOU GIVE THAT BACK, YOU DISGUSTING PIECE OF SHIT!"
Steve laughed harder. "Come and get it," he said.
Oh, I will. Believe me, I bloody fucking will. But Sören's first priority was Anthony. He started to maneuver to get both of them up, and then he helped Anthony back inside to sit at a table, since Anthony needed to sit. Some passerby who had been watching the whole thing asked, "Is he all right?" on the way in and Sören snapped, "Jæja, he's fine," grateful for their concern but he knew Anthony was just getting embarrassed.
When Anthony was seated, he took a few deep breaths, looking on the verge of falling apart. "Sören, I -"
"Wait here," Sören said. He was wearing short sleeves, or he would have rolled his sleeves up. He reached in his shorts pocket for an elastic and quickly put his hair into a loose, messy "man bun" so it couldn't be used against him as a weapon.
Sören began to march towards the exit. "Where are you going?" Anthony called out.
"Hann er um það bil að komast að því hvað 'koma og ná í það' þýðir."
Six feet and seventy-seven kilograms of a furious man descended directly from Vikings began to stalk down the street like he owned it. Not only had Steve bullied the man he loved, but it seemed in those moments that Steve represented all bigots who bullied people in marginalized groups; people like Steve were part of the reason why disabled people were so often afraid to even admit being disabled, let alone seek the sort of appropriate help and care they needed. Sören's fists clenched and his blood boiled. Steve was going to rue the day he'd chosen to take Anthony's cane away from him. Steve was going to rue the day he was born.
A still, small voice found its way through the roaring fire in Sören's mind. If you get in a fight with him, he could hurt you. You could hurt him. You could end up in jail. You can buy Anthony another shark cane -
SHUT UP, Sören yelled at himself. It wasn't even about getting the cane back, at this point - though obviously Anthony needed it and Sören was determined to get it and avoid the hassle of a replacement. It was about standing up to this disgusting person who Anthony had once thought of as a friend... who'd so clearly betrayed him.
Steve was just dancing on the street corner now, doing a little Fred Astaire routine with the cane as some onlookers gave him a hard time. "You should be ashamed of yourself," a middle-aged woman said. "Mate, that ain't right," a young man said.
Sören was just a few feet away now. Steve stopped his dance and made jazz hands. He grinned as he said, "I guess you're not a coward after -"
Before Steve could say "all", Sören's fist connected with Steve's face. Steve almost fell - he held his face, that smug look back on it - and then, looking as if Sören had committed some type of royal offense by punching him, Steve took a swing. Sören ducked, and Steve took another swing, getting Sören in the shoulder. But even as Sören felt the impact to his shoulder, he was in such a state of pure adrenaline he felt almost impervious to pain. He found himself kneeing Steve right in the crotch, and as Steve wobbled, Sören shoved him so Steve took a spill on the pavement.
Steve let go of the cane and Sören grabbed it away, then smacked him with it right in the face, making Steve's nose bleed. "YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Sören screamed. "Þú ógeðslegi skíthæll sem þorir að kalla sig mannveru! Þurftir þú að taka reyr mannsins míns til að bæta upp fyrir pínulítinn liminn þinn?"
Sören realized he'd just called Anthony his husband, but he wasn't about to take it back. Steve was starting to look at him with something like terror, and Sören lifted the cane, thinking about bringing it down over Steve's head, wondering if the metal shark would knock him out or at least leave a nasty egg.
But that didn't seem satisfying enough. In Sören's mind's eye, he saw himself choking Steve, wishing he could get away with it.
And then Steve began to choke, for real. Sören was not grabbing him by the throat or strangling him with a clothing article, nor was he in any sort of position that could make Steve choke like that. All he'd done was just think about how satisfying it was to choke Steve. Sören lowered the cane, not striking. He looked at one empty hand, then the other hand just holding the cane. He was standing a few inches away, not making any sort of physical contact.
It suddenly smelled of woodsmoke, like something was on fire, or about to be.
At first Sören wondered if Steve was just faking it so Sören would back down and then Steve could go on the offensive - one of the oldest tricks in the book - but then Steve's face was turning red, eyes bulging, and the labored breathing couldn't be faked. He'll die, and you'll be charged with murder. Sören quickly conjured the mental image of "letting go" of his chokehold and Steve breathing normally again, and a few seconds later Steve stopped choking, and coughed until he was breathing again - shaking from fear. Sören recognized the acrid stench of piss, and looked down at the wet spot in Steve's trousers. He couldn't help but smile at that. But he knew it wasn't a pleasant smile. He imagined it was like a wolf smiling at its dinner.
Steve raised a trembling finger and gasped out, "What... wh... what are you?"
Part of Sören thought that was a very odd question - even though he was sure Steve knew the sudden choking was very odd indeed - but then, not thinking, Sören replied. "Ég er andi elds. Ef þú hefðir ekki drýgt svona alvarlegar syndir, þá hefði alheimurinn ekki sent mig til að refsa þér."
Sören decided not to punch him again, only because Steve had been choking just a moment ago. In English, Sören added, "By the way, if you call the police, there are plenty of bystanders here who will say you started it."
"Yeah!" "Damn right!" called some voices from the gathered crowd.
"You assaulted a gay and disabled person, that's a hate crime," Sören said. "So you'd just be causing a lot of trouble for yourself."
"I don't need the police, I need a fucking priest," Steve said, and he started making the sign of the cross with his fingers like it would do anything.
Sören laughed. He stuck out his tongue like he was Gene Simmons and made little horns on the sides of his head with index fingers, then changed it to his middle fingers. He spat, and then he was on his way, raising the cane in triumph to cheers, whistles, and wild applause. A teenage boy wearing Burberry and a cap ran up ahead of him.
Just as Sören approached the door of the Starbucks, he was stopped by the boy who'd run up ahead, who was now lighting up a cigarette. Sören made a face at the stench, but the boy held out his fist to give Sören a fist bump, and Sören let him. "You were like a bloody superhero," the boy said. "Do you always keep those... special effects, whatever they are... on hand for the superhero moments? Contacts? Some sort of cybernetic implant? Whatever it was, it was bloody awesome."
"What?"
"Oh come on now, I was down there watching you. Those orange eyes. Looked like your eyes were on fire. No wonder he pissed himself. I almost pissed meself laughing, it was brilliant -"
A chill went down Sören's spine, his hair standing on end. He wanted to chalk up what the boy said to hallucination - the boy's or his own. But that wasn't so easy. Sören gave a nervous little laugh - he was screaming internally - and he walked back into the cafe, tossing the cane from one hand to the other before he gave it to Anthony. Anthony gave him a stunned look as he sat down.
"How...?"
Sören narrowed his eyes. "You're mine," Sören growled, again, not thinking. That was all the explanation he was going to give - for now - and that was all the explanation Anthony needed.
In the cab on the way to Nicholas and Sören's flat, Anthony finally gave into the meltdown he'd been holding back, though he tried to keep his tears quiet, not wanting to disturb the cab driver. Sören held Anthony close and rocked him, pet him, aching for him - as good as it felt to teach that bully Steve a lesson, he wished it hadn't been necessary in the first place. Sören knew that the attack would have been upsetting to Anthony regardless but it hurt that much more coming from someone he used to be friends with, and Sören's heart broke for that.
But as they got closer to the building, Sören's mind drifted from the incident with Steve to feeling like something had been unleashed inside him. It was a little scary - but powerful. Exhilarating. So much so that he felt even more alive than he had in the park...
...and he felt horny.
The proximity of Anthony's body against his, and that protective, possessive urge towards him... Sören shuddered. He wanted to drag Anthony off like a caveman and claim him, and be claimed, in every position possible. He wanted to make Anthony scream and make a mess all over both of them, the ceiling and the wall.
Over dinner, Anthony tried to pull himself together but he was still noticeably upset and finally Nicholas broached the subject. "What happened?"
"He ran into one of his ex-friends," Sören said before Anthony could answer - he could tell the usually erudite Anthony was struggling for words.
Then Anthony found his words, nodding. "He took my cane. Sören... got it back."
"What kind of wretched cretin would steal someone's cane?" Nicholas glared - Sören found that glare incredibly sexy. He wanted them both at the same time. Stop that, Sören told himself.
"Steve," Anthony said. "Steve is that kind of... wretched cretin."
Nicholas sniffed and made a noise into his tea. "I do hope you gave him a hard time, Sören."
"Oh, I did." Sören flashed that wolfish smile again. "I made him piss himself. My only regret is I wasn't able to give him the Doc Marten Dental Plan." He pointed to his boots.
Anthony laughed at this and facepalmed, shaking his head. "Never change, Sören."
But then their eyes met, and Anthony looked at him with such worship that Sören had to fight off the urge to put down his tea, grab Anthony and kiss him. Sören finally took down his hair, shaking it loose, and Anthony reached out to play with a curl; Sören touched Anthony's cheek.
"You gonna be OK?" Sören asked.
Anthony nodded. "I already feel better now that I'm... you know. In a safe place." He patted Sören, and Sören could almost hear the unvoiced You are my safe place.
After dinner, to help further soothe Anthony following his ordeal, Sören grabbed the weighted blanket he kept by the couch and shared it with him. He pulled Anthony's head onto his shoulder and they cuddled up together under the blanket. Nicholas smiled at them, his eyes warm. Anthony managed a smile in return, and Sören put an arm around him. Under the blanket, Sören's other hand took Anthony's hand, and Anthony squeezed his hand. A few minutes later, when their hands let go, Sören's hand rested on Anthony's knee, and he found himself rubbing Anthony's knee in slow, lazy circles - what was meant to be a comforting touch, but had turned sensual.
Eventually Nicholas discreetly made a "come here" gesture to Sören, who followed Nicholas into the kitchen and helped him clean up. Sören gave him a hug and little kisses, and when Anthony excused himself to the bathroom, so they were completely alone in the open plan kitchen and living area, Nicholas paused for a moment to give Sören a tight, lingering hug, petting his curls. He rubbed his nose in Sören's hair and kissed the top of his head. "I'm very proud of you for dealing with that bully," Nicholas said.
"Takk. I couldn't let him get away with it, even if it meant I was going to get in trouble, but... I don't think he'll call the police." Sören remembered Steve making the sign of the cross with his fingers sitting on the sidewalk, terror in his eyes, a wet spot in his trousers. What are you? Sören's hair stood on end again, wondering if he'd hallucinated all of that in his adrenaline rush. It would be kinder if he had, he didn't want to entertain the possibility that he'd done something.
Nicholas patted him. When they pulled apart, Nicholas put his hands on Sören's shoulders and gave him a very serious look. "Sören, I suspect you and Anthony need to talk about things."
Sören took a deep breath. He hadn't told Nicholas about how he'd said "fuck me" to Anthony over the weekend and Anthony had declined because he was drunk - but now, looking into Nicholas's eyes, it was like he knew where things were going.
"OK," Sören said. "I'll be back later -"
"You can spend the night with him," Nicholas said.
Sören's eyebrows went up.
Nicholas nodded. "The way the two of you were looking at each other all evening... it's time. You know you can't last a year."
Sören chuckled. "OK. I can't guarantee -"
Nicholas gave him a you've got to be kidding look. "Sören... please."
Sören laughed some more and ran a nervous hand through his curls, feeling like he'd been caught.
When Anthony came back from the bathroom, Sören asked, "Is it all right if I go back to your room with you, so we can discuss a few things?"
Anthony nodded, keeping his expression neutral.
They were quiet on the way to Anthony's room, feeling the tension crackle between them like static electricity. When they stepped inside the bedroom, Anthony leaned on his cane. "So..." Anthony cleared his throat, looking a little nervous.
And though Sören had come to talk, emotion overcame him again. All his words went out the window and feeling was all there was. Impulse. Sören marched towards Anthony, slammed him against the kitchen wall, and kissed him hungrily, fiercely. Anthony moaned and shivered, his hips instinctively thrusting forward against Sören's. Sören groaned into the kiss. Their tongues played together more insistently, like they were trying to fuck each other in the kiss. This was definitely no time for words. It was the time to give into that hot sexual need that they'd been fighting for the last year.
They pulled apart, breathing hard, looking into each other's eyes. Anthony's eyes had that expression of worship again, of wonder, and Sören's own eyes misted as he looked at Anthony, knew he'd been ready to kill for this man earlier that day... knowing he would not just kill for him but die for him if it came to that, and he believed, truly, that Anthony felt the same way, would do the same for him. He had doubted Anthony's loyalty in 2013 when what happened, happened. He didn't doubt anymore. The moment of truth had come, in the most visceral way possible. When Sören had marched upon Steve to get Anthony's cane back, his heart had pounded like a war drum, the battle cry of you hurt what is mine.
"Bróðir minn," Sören husked, revisiting their shared dreams... and the kinky roleplaying game they'd indulged in years ago.
Anthony rested the cane on the wall beside him, grabbed Sören's face, and kissed him back, passionately. Sören groaned again. He reached between them to slide his hands over Anthony's body, wishing Anthony was naked, but even through the fabric, Sören's touch made Anthony tremble.
Anthony and Sören looked at each other, dazed, and then Anthony said, "Right," and then they were kissing again. Anthony leaned against the bed to support himself and he and Sören undressed each other, hands feverishly exploring, caressing the exposed flesh. Anthony climbed onto the bed, laying on his back, and Sören climbed over him, and Anthony pulled him into another deep, needy kiss. They both moaned at the feel of their hard cocks together, and Anthony gasped as Sören reached down between them to take their cocks into his fist, stroking slowly.
"God, Sören..." Anthony's breath caught. He looked into Sören's eyes with that awe and wonder again; Sören's free hand touched his face, Sören smiling at him tenderly. "I never thought I'd..."
"Shhhhh." Sören kissed his brow, then the tip of his nose, then claimed his mouth again. "Here we are."
"It hasn't been a year yet," Anthony said, raising an eyebrow with a mock disapproving glance.
"It's felt like a few thousand years, so I win on a technicality." Sören nibbled Anthony's lower lip.
Anthony laughed at this, his entire face lighting up. He shook his head, smiling. "You complain about me always being in lawyer mode, but you sound like a lawyer right now yourself."
"I might have some lawyer in me."
"Oh, you're definitely going to have some lawyer in you," Anthony said, and kissed Sören again, both of them laughing into the kiss before they moaned. Sören's grip tightened on their cocks, stroking just a little harder.
"Mmmmm, yes. But first..." Sören started kissing Anthony's neck. "I want to take what's mine."
Anthony shuddered and his breath hitched. His eyes met Sören's and he nodded vehemently before grinning and giving Sören a little kiss. Then he moaned again as Sören resumed kissing and licking his neck. "But even before that..." Sören kissed Anthony's shoulder. "I want to love you. It's been too long."
Anthony's breath caught again. He stroked Sören's face, played with a curly lock. "I was so afraid you wouldn't want me like this."
Sören regarded the scarring - the jagged, thick scar on Anthony's left shoulder, the one that started near his sternum and led all the way down near the armpit. The light lattice of scarring on his forearms. His fingers traced the scars and then he licked them, gave little kisses. Anthony closed his eyes and tears silently spilled down his cheeks. He whispered "thank you."
"I think it just makes you look sexy," Sören said honestly. "Like... some kind of warrior or something." Sören grinned. "We could play Saxons and Vikings."
Anthony smiled through his tears, and now he was laughing again. "I swear to god, Sören."
"Right, you're part Scottish - Celts and Vikings? You'd look hot in a kilt."
Anthony laughed harder and he swatted Sören's ass.
Then Sören rubbed his nose in the growth of dark hair on Anthony's chest - not as much of a pelt as Nicholas, but still a healthy amount. Sören started licking the chest hair and Anthony gasped and groaned. "God. You get me so fucking hot." Sören kissed Anthony's throat again, then back down to the chest, continuing to rub his nose in the hair, lick it. He turned his attention to one nipple, and his thumb and finger played with it as he lapped and suckled the other. Anthony's moans got louder and he started thrusting into Sören's hand. Sören's own cock throbbed, dripping precum - Sören felt ready to explode and they'd barely gotten started.
Sören continued to tease and pleasure Anthony's nipples, then feasted on the rest of his body, kissing, licking, caressing his stomach, thighs, knees, calves. Sören moved back up, enjoying the way Anthony trembled and moaned and sighed at his tender loving care, and rubbed his nose in Anthony's thick, luxurious dark bush, giving him more honest reassurance about the body hair he knew Anthony was self-conscious about. "So sexy. So. Fucking. Gorgeous." When he took Anthony's cock into his mouth he reached down to stroke himself, going out of his mind with lust at the look on Anthony's face, the sounds he made, worshiping the beautiful, perfect cock in his mouth, sucking slowly, lovingly.
"Sören." Anthony stroked Sören's face, pet his curls, before shivering and moaning again. "Sören, love..."
"Mmmmmmmmm." Sören pulled Anthony's cock out of his mouth to lick it. "You don't know how much I've missed this." He put Anthony's cock back in his mouth and sucked harder, faster.
Anthony got more vocal - Sören loved the way he panted and gasped as he got closer. Sören started playing with Anthony's balls, rubbing his tongue as he sucked, stroking his own cock harder. When Anthony pulled Sören's curls, Sören braced himself, wanting to taste, but then Anthony ground out, "Sören... I need you inside me."
Sören stopped sucking. His cock jolted at the memory of how good Anthony had felt wrapped around him.
"Now," Anthony gasped. "Now, please, now..."
Sören's own breath caught. That urgent plea brought out the beast in him. Sören slammed the endtable drawer open, got out the lube, and readied them both, with fierce kisses. Sören slid a pillow under Anthony's hips and moved the tip of his cock to the opening.
As Sören slid into him, their mouths opened and their eyes locked. Sören felt almost reverent, like he was entering sacred ground. When Sören was all the way inside, Anthony threw his arms around him and they kissed deeply.
Sören took a few slow thrusts, not wanting to come too soon, almost undone by the silken heat. But soon Anthony was shaking with need, whispering "Sören, oh god, Sören, I love you, I need you so much," and Sören gave in to that animal instinct, slamming into him, stroking Anthony's cock as he thrusted harder and harder. One of Anthony's hands was on Sören's, guiding the hand on his cock, and the other was fisting Sören's hair, claiming him as much as he was being claimed. "Oh god. Just like that..."
"Fuck." Sören shuddered, the tension building. He grit his teeth, needing to hold back, wanting Anthony to come first. Wanting to make this last, this first time after so long. Sören started biting Anthony's neck, not caring if he left marks that his colleagues would see. "Bróðir minn."
"God, yes..." Now Anthony's nails were in his back. "My brother..."
"Mine. Mine." Sören let out a primal, feral growl, biting Anthony's neck again, soothing and teasing with his tongue. "Always mine."
"Oh god." Anthony's eyes widened and he made a little high-pitched noise, followed by a deeper groan. Their eyes met, and Sören knew he was right there at that point of no return. Sören let him have it, pounding even harder, balls slapping against him. "Oh god!" Now Anthony was biting Sören's shoulder, and Sören loved it, groaning appreciatively as he banged away, losing himself in the heat between them. "My brother," Anthony panted. "My brother... my brother..."
Sören was right there too. He needed to come, and he needed Anthony to come. He kissed Anthony hard, then he spoke the words that he knew would be Anthony's undoing. "Does my little brother like that?" Even though Sören was younger, Anthony had always been "the little brother" in their kinky game.
"Oh fuck..." Anthony nodded and gasped.
"Mmmmm, see, your big brother takes care of you. Your big brother rescues you from bullies, then takes you home and gives you his hard cock..."
That did it. Anthony's nails raked down Sören's back as he cried out, "Sören, yes, yes..." He threw his head back and let out a shuddery sigh as his seed spilled over Sören's chest and stomach.
With a deep groan, Sören spent inside him. They kissed and took each other's hands as the orgasm pulsed through them. Then they started crying together, both shattered.
"I love you," Anthony said. "Oh god, Sören, I love you, I've missed you so much..."
"I love you." Sören kissed him again. "You've got me now. We did it. We're together..."
Anthony's arms wrapped around him, tightened, squeezed. They laughed and cried, nuzzling, kissing each other's tears. The world seemed to glow in the euphoria of their pleasure, their love, their joy in finding their way back to each other, their bond even stronger than before.
Tangled up together, they dozed off. Sören got woken up a little while later by Anthony kissing his neck, grinding against his thigh. "I want you," Anthony growled.
"Mmmmmmmmm." Sören kissed him. "I want you too, elskan."
Anthony tugged on one of Sören's nipple rings before his thumb teased the nub, hardening it. Sören's cock was hardening too, and Sören kissed him again. When Anthony began kissing Sören's neck again Sören gasped and shuddered, wanting Anthony so badly it almost hurt. Anthony gave a little growl into Sören's neck. "I want to take you from behind." Their eyes met. "If that's all right."
"That's... that's more than all right." Sören had only ever let a few lovers have him that way, as the position required a certain amount of trust and he didn't give that casually. But when the trust was there, it was exhilarating... and the trust was there now. Sören rolled onto his stomach and thrust his ass out at Anthony. As he felt lube pour down his ass crack, he asked, "Stupid question, but will this position bother you?"
"I still have difficulty kneeling, if that's what you're asking, but I'm fine if I'm laying on top of you." With that, Anthony climbed atop Sören, and Sören shivered at the feel of Anthony's chest hair against his back. He shivered again as Anthony put an arm around him and leaned in, loving the feel of Anthony's breath on his neck. "This way I can kiss your neck. I remember how sensitive you are there." Anthony began to kiss the back of Sören's neck, to demonstrate.
Sören whimpered and wiggled his ass, rubbing against the sheets. "Dammit, fuck me..."
Anthony laughed softly, delighted. He adjusted his position slightly and began to push in. When he was all the way inside, he took Sören's hand and his other hand tilted Sören's face, so they could kiss.
Anthony went slowly at first, kissing him again and again, their tongues licking together between kisses, teasing them both. Then Anthony began kissing his neck again, his nape, his shoulder, and Sören whimpered and howled, his sensitized flesh electrified. Anthony licked the ridge of Sören's ear and whispered, "I'm yours... but you're mine, too." He kissed down Sören's neck again and growled, "You're mine," before he bit. Sören cried out, and again as Anthony began to pound into him, harder, faster, no mercy.
Anthony continued to nibble and lick Sören's neck, growling as he took Sören's ass like he owned it; Sören loved being taken like this, that feeling of being claimed by one of the two great loves of his life. Sören worked his hips back at Anthony, matching his fast, furious rhythm, their hips slapping together. Sören panted, whimpered, squeezing Anthony's hand. "Fuck, that's so good," Sören sobbed. "That's so fucking good..."
"God, you feel incredible." Anthony shivered. He turned Sören's face to his again. "So worth the wait."
They kissed deeply, and their tongues played together again. Already, Sören was on that edge, wanting to come, but he held on, needing to lose himself in the primal, animal claiming. Sören's moans got louder, his whimpers higher in pitch, and he thrilled to the sound of Anthony panting, gasping, his broken cries, losing control. At last they were both there again and Anthony grabbed Sören's hair, biting his neck, his nape, his shoulder.
"Mine," Anthony growled. "You're mine. You're mine..."
"Oh god, yes. More..." Sören's fists grabbed the pillows, white-knuckled, ready to explode. "More, more, brother, more, I need it so bad..."
They kissed again and Sören climaxed, screaming into the kiss as his body quivered with pleasure, toes curling involuntarily. Two thrusts later Anthony's teeth were on Sören's neck again and he let out a deep, fierce growl as he shook and Sören felt the hot seed flooding him. Sören cried out, and Anthony cried out too, spilling again.
"Fuck." Another bolt of pleasure went through Sören, taking his breath away.
They kissed, and kissed. Anthony slipped out of Sören and Sören rolled so they could face each other, hold each other, look into each other's eyes and kiss some more. The kisses got them going again, and Sören gently rolled Anthony onto his back.
"I want to ride you," Sören husked.
"Yes. Please."
Sören poured another coat of lube onto Anthony's hard cock, straddled Anthony's hips, and sank down. They took each other's hands as Anthony bottomed out inside him, then Sören's hands played over Anthony's chest as he began to ride. Sören moaned - Anthony's cock hit him just the right way in this position, and Anthony knew that.
"That's it." Anthony's fingers walked over Sören's body, heat in his eyes. "I love watching you ride me."
"You feel so fucking good." Sören growled through his teeth, bucking harder.
Soon Sören was riding him hard, and Anthony grabbed Sören's hips, a fierce look on his face that matched Sören's own hunger and need. Sören's prostate was sensitive from the previous fuck and the rubbing inside him was almost unbearably delicious, making him moan and growl and whimper, craving Anthony's cock like a drug. It got even better when Anthony slapped his ass.
"My big brother's so naughty," Anthony whispered. "So depraved."
"So deprived." Sören gave another whimper as he reached in to pinch Anthony's nipples, then rub them. "I've missed this so much..."
"I've missed you." Their eyes met. "Not just the sex. But you. All of you." Anthony's hand slid up from Sören's hip to rest on his heart.
"You've got me." Sören kissed Anthony's hand and rode harder, bucking madly, racing them both to the finish.
They came together, screaming, and Sören collapsed into Anthony's arms, the two of them shaking, gasping together. They kissed deeply and, with their foreheads close, breathed each other's breath, breathed each other in.
"I love you," Anthony said, raining kisses over Sören's face. "I love you... love you... love you..."
"I love you so much." Sören kissed the tip of his nose.
Even after all of that they were still hungry, the old insatiability for each other roaring back. Sören lay on his back, and Anthony returned the favor of body worship, kissing and licking Sören all over, fingers brushing and rubbing in the wake of his tongue. He spent a long time just exploring, teasing, until Sören was writhing, screaming through clenched teeth, begging to be fucked. Anthony relented and slipped a pillow under Sören's hips, and Sören hooked a leg around Anthony's waist.
Anthony fucked him slowly, stroking Sören's cheek, his hair, looking at him with such love in his eyes that it made Sören tear up. He reached up to touch Anthony's face, and Anthony closed his eyes for a moment, looking almost like he was in pain - when he opened his eyes they were too bright. Anthony leaned in and kissed Sören's forehead, slid his lips down to kiss the tip of Sören's nose.
"I still can't believe we're doing this." Anthony laughed softly, his face lighting up in that grin Sören loved.
"We are." Sören kissed him again. "We are so back together."
They kissed, and Anthony pet Sören's curls, silent tears flowing as he smiled. "You feel so good. So incredibly right."
"So do you," Sören said honestly, giving a little moan as Anthony's cock hit that sweet spot again.
"This isn't just sex to me. I'm touching you. I'm feeling you. I'm inside you, we're connected... I'm expressing the way I feel, with each stroke. Wanting to love your heart, your soul, not just your body."
Sören cried a little too, deeply moved. The rush of emotion made him even hornier; he kissed Anthony hard, fierce. "This is making love... but I still want you to fucking fuck me."
Anthony grinned and kissed Sören back, and sped up inside him. He fucked hard until they were right there again, about to come, and then he slowed down, teasing them both. Sören made a growling whine of frustrated need, nails digging in Anthony's back. Anthony chuckled and started kissing and licking Sören's neck. "I want to savor this," Anthony husked. "I want to savor you."
They kissed and kissed, building back up, slowly, the tension stronger and stronger until they were both shaking, gasping, and Anthony couldn't help but slam into him again, Sören rocking his hips back for all he was worth. Kissing deeply, they came together again, laughing, crying, one long, perfect note of molten joy.
They snuggled together. Just before Sören could doze off again, Miss Balls joined them on the bed, sniffing the sheets curiously.
"Oh boy," Sören said. "She smells sex."
"Oh no. We've corrupted my sweet, innocent cat."
Miss Balls came closer for pettings, but now she was sniffing Sören too. When she sniffed lower, Sören cracked up laughing. "Balls, meet balls."
Anthony facepalmed. "Sören..."
Miss Balls settled on a pillow next to them, curled up in a ball, purring loudly. After some pets Anthony squinted at the clock again and frowned. "What time you go in tomorrow?"
"Nine AM," Sören said. "I get back at seven PM."
Anthony sat up and stretched. "I should probably shower now so I can sleep in a bit tomorrow. Do you want to join me?"
Of course, the shower got them going yet again, even though Sören didn't think he had it in him. He knew Anthony was a little nervous about the shower chair, but Sören showed him it had erotic potential, with Anthony's head level with Sören's cock. After Sören scrubbed his cock Anthony tongue-bathed it, and when Sören turned around to wash his hair Anthony pulled Sören closer and dipped his tongue into Sören's freshly clean passage, licking him so good Sören had to hold onto the guard rails in the shower to not fall over.
When they got out of the shower they had one last round, a slow, languid sixty-nine, sucking and rimming until they came in each other's mouths. After they swallowed they kissed, savoring the lingering taste of their pleasure, the taste of them together, and finally they slept. It didn't take long for Sören to fall asleep, spent and cozy, and when he woke up in the middle of the night he remembered where he was and snuggled closer to Anthony, smiling before he drifted off again.
Sören woke up to Anthony petting him. It was ten minutes before Anthony's alarm was set to go off. Sören gave him a little kiss and then he giggled at the feel of Anthony's hard cock pressed up against him.
"And you say I'm insatiable," Sören said, before kissing him harder.
"I never said that was a bad thing." Anthony kissed the tip of Sören's nose. "I'm only insatiable when I'm with you."
Sören was touched by that - and satisfied. He tousled Anthony's hair. "Well, what do you suppose we do with these?" Sören was hard again too.
"I imagine you must be a little sore from last night."
Sören nodded. "A little. No regrets, though, would do again." He grinned.
"You could fuck me, or we could do something else."
Sören had an idea, something else they hadn't done in a long, long time. After a few minutes of stroking their cocks together in his fist, he let go and made their cocks kiss, cock head rubbing cock head. He pushed the small bead of his Prince Albert piercing into the slit of Anthony's cock, then rolled down his foreskin to swallow both their heads. Anthony cried out, and again as Sören reached down to massage their cock heads, enjoying the feel of Anthony inside him this way, teasing his sensitive foreskin, knowing from past experience how good it felt to Anthony, too. It didn't take them long to come together, and the feeling of searing hot cum exploding like a geyser between them made Sören's orgasm even more intense, gasping for breath as the pleasure shook him.
Sören was very reluctant to leave for work, but they couldn't call out. It was just as well - Sören thought he might die if he didn't get a break from all the mind-blowing orgasms. But before he left, they lingered, hugging, kissing.
"I love you," Anthony said. "Thank you for this, so much."
"Thank you." Sören kissed the tip of his nose. He patted Anthony's shoulder. "Try to have a good day."
"It's already a good day." Anthony beamed, still smiling as he walked off, waving with his free hand. "It's a beautiful day. A beautiful world."
chapter 19 | return to Learning To Fly | return to Other Tolkien Fic | return to index