[art by me, 2021]
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"Góðan daginn, fallega ástin mín."
Sören gave a sleepy smile as he stretched, and opened his eyes to see Anthony's green eyes shining. "You learned a little Icelandic," Sören said.
"Bara smá. Not fluent yet. But I wanted to try to pick some up... to pick you up." Anthony gave him a cheeky grin. "Is it working yet?"
Sören kissed the tip of his nose, giggling. "You already got me, Muppet." Anthony gave a mock offended glare at the pet name. "But it is touching that you want to learn my language, já." Sören kissed his mouth, sweet and lingering. "And kind of sexy." Those moments where Anthony was tender and considerate made him all the sexier to Sören.
"Kind of?" Anthony pretended to sound irritated, but his lips quirked and his eyes were laughing.
"Just a little." Sören tweaked his nose. "Bara smá."
They chuckled, and then Anthony began to rain kisses over Sören's face. "I was thinking of calling room service, ordering up breakfast. What would you like to eat?"
Sören couldn't resist. "You."
Anthony laughed, harder, and nibbled on Sören's lower lip. "You, elskan, are insatiable."
"As you know..."
"As you know." Anthony kissed him, and as their tongues teased Sören's cock woke up. Anthony adjusted his position slightly and Sören's breath hitched as he felt Anthony's hard cock bump up against his.
"Sounds like you'd like sausage for breakfast too." Sören smirked.
Anthony laughed again, kissed the tip of Sören's nose, and claimed his mouth again, deep and passionate, making them both moan into the kiss.
They started their day with a sensual, languid sixty-nine, sucking each other slowly, licking each other's cocks, rimming, then fingering each other as they resumed sucking, until they were fucking each other's fingers, sucking harder, moaning loud with their mouths full. Sören came first, and Anthony flooded his mouth a few seconds later. They swallowed it down and came up to kiss, still tasting each other, savoring the way they tasted together. The way they felt together, their bond stronger than before.
"OK, now I'm calling for breakfast," Anthony said, leaning over to the phone on the bedtable.
"Hi Calling For Breakfast -"
Anthony glared, then he laughed, and Sören did too. "You want what we've been having? Skyr with oatmeal?" Though the hotel offered more variety including a full English breakfast, Anthony wanted to try something more traditional while visiting Iceland, and it delighted Sören that he'd developed a taste for skyr.
Sören nodded.
It didn't take long for breakfast to arrive, with a pot of coffee. They checked e-mail and the news as they ate together, and then it was off to the shower; the hotel had sent a shower chair to their room for disability accommodations. Anthony had mostly gotten over his self-consciousness about showering with Sören while sitting in the shower chair, as Sören had used it as an excuse to pamper him, massaging his scalp and neck and shoulders - and he'd also shown him the erotic potential, with Anthony's head being level with Sören's cock, and it being easier for Sören to sit on the floor of the shower to give oral favors himself, rather than kneel. Sören was still feeling a bit amorous after their sixty-nine, but before he could get too involved in seduction, Anthony said, "We can do that later. You promised we could see certain things today."
"Jæja, I did." Sören nodded.
Anthony gave him a mischievous look. "And it would be fun to tease you all day."
It was Friday, February nineteenth, their last full day in Iceland - Nicholas had generously offered the package he'd planned for Sören for Valentine's Day and the week after, to help give Sören and Anthony a chance to reconnect, saying Anthony could "owe him one". They'd be flying back to London tomorrow afternoon. Sören had wanted to "save the best for last", two destinations that he knew would be particularly memorable. And as horny as Sören was for Anthony, they couldn't see them if they stayed in bed all day.
However, even though Sören had planned on certain activities for their last day, he had no control over the weather. Anthony had known to expect it to be cold, but somehow he hadn't been expecting rain. Sören made a face as he looked out the window.
"I still want to go to Reynisfjara," Anthony said. "Rain never stopped us from going to Brighton, after all."
"OK, good." Sören still wanted to go to Reynisfjara as well - the beach on rainy and overcast days held its own beauty to Sören's artist's eye - but he knew not everyone thought like him. Yet, as different as he and Anthony were in many ways, they were also a lot alike... and this was one of the ways they were very much alike.
But first... Sören took down his jeans, and the black lacy panties he was wearing under them, feeling naughty, and Anthony applied lube and pushed the remote-controlled plug into Sören. He turned on the vibe to its lowest setting and as it began to purr, Sören moaned. Anthony smiled. "Good." He turned off the vibe, though Sören knew it would only be a matter of time before it was pulsing away inside him again, and just the feel of the plug inside him even without it vibrating felt deliciously naughty.
Before they went to Reynisfjara, Sören had something to show him in Reykjavik. They took the bus to the Icelandic Phallological Museum, which houses the world's largest display of penises and penile parts.
Anthony tried to keep a straight face as they walked through the museum, but as they got halfway through the selections Anthony started shaking with silent laughter that quickly became less silent, and he leaned on Sören, doubling over. Sören laughed too.
"Jesus Christ," Anthony said. "I can't believe we're doing this."
"You act like you've never seen a penis before, Anthony, and I have it on good authority that you've seen quite a few of them."
Anthony lost it even more at the samples of penises allegedly from huldufólk.
"Yes, half the country believes in elves," Sören said, and of course his brain reminded him of those dreams of "before", being in another body... the dreams he shared with Anthony. The memory of Elaine telling him Anthony used to write stories about elves when he was a kid. A shiver went down Sören's spine - OK, that's not real, that's just old wives' tales, it's bullshit - but his own mamma had claimed to see one of the huldufólk when she was a child. There were rumors that they had elf blood from centuries ago. Sören desperately needed a moment of levity, not wanting to speculate further on whether or not there might be some truth to the legends. It's not like the Yule Cat is fucking real, either. "These aren't real elf dicks, though. Or at least, I would think real elf dick would be bigger. In Norse mythology Freyr was the lord of the elves, and he was depicted in ancient statues and carvings with a giant dingdong, so I'm just saying, elves should have big dingdongs -"
Anthony had to sit down, in hysterics. "Wow, Sören. Just... wow."
On the way out they stopped at the gift shop. Sören bought a "willy warmer" for himself, one for Anthony, and one for Nicholas. "To give Nick at Christmas, so the Yule Cat doesn't eat him," Sören said.
"Very... thoughtful."
"You can have yours now," Sören said. "We'll match." Sören had gotten striped snakes for both of them. Another shiver went down his spine, remembering dreams where he'd made other-Anthony a ring for their secret, forbidden marriage - two snakes, set with green jewels in the eyes.
OK, stop that shit. There are no elves, there is no elf dingdong, cut it out.
After the penis museum, there was a food cart nearby. Anthony still hadn't had a pylsa so Sören remedied that, ordering two "með öllu". The hot dogs were made from mostly Icelandic lamb, with a bit of pork and beef, on steamed buns topped with raw white onions and crispy fried onions, ketchup, sweet brown mustard called pylsusinnep, and remoulade. Anthony looked a little dubious but he tried it anyway. "I normally don't like hot dogs at all but this is good," he said.
"Want another?"
Anthony nodded.
As they worked on their second pylsa, Anthony paused eating and started laughing again. "Oh god, we're eating this after we..." He couldn't finish the sentence.
"Oh no. That wasn't intentional."
"Sure it wasn't."
"No, seriously." Sören would have wanted one anyway, since the food cart was right there. "It's just good timing. Anyway, if you like this, I can make them now and again when you visit. It's been years since I had a proper pylsa and it's one of the things I get nostalgic for."
Anthony patted Sören's shoulder.
From the penis museum, Sören called their driver to take them to and from Reynisfjara - for the week he'd hired a driving service that had a handicap-accessible jeep with a ramp to get in and out. It was approximately a two and a half hour drive along the southwest coast of Iceland, and very scenic. The hilarity of the penises - and eating hot dogs after the penises - faded as they were enthralled by the beauty of the ocean view and cliffs, starkly majestic, ethereal melancholy with the silver skies and dark, choppy sea. It seemed to Sören as if the sea was almost singing, a male tenor calling over the waves, echoes of words Sören did not understand but felt. A song of blood, a song of home.
For the first time since he'd left, Sören wondered what it would be like to return to Iceland to live... to live there with Nicholas and Anthony, and the cats. He knew of course that wasn't possible, they all had careers, their roots ran pretty deep there. Nonetheless, he felt longing to return to Iceland someday...
...and to nest with the men he loved. He knew that even as much as he did, in fact, miss his homeland, he could be home anywhere in the world so long as he was with the ones he loved. And he wished Nicholas could be here now, to see this. To feel this. He had a feeling that somehow, Nicholas would get it, just like he got it, just like Anthony got it.
In the back of the jeep, Anthony took Sören's hand and squeezed.
There was a parking lot in front of a cafe, and it was a short walk to the black sand beach, though Sören went slowly for Anthony's sake. The rain had let up, but the skies were still overcast grey, and it was chillier by the ocean. "Don't go too close to the water," Sören said. "Even though it looks calm right now, big waves have come in and grabbed people."
Because of the rain earlier that day, and the grey skies, the beach was currently empty except for them; their driver was in the cafe. Sören was glad for that, as he didn't want to be bothered by tourists, especially if they were American. But even more than that, as they walked across the black sand together, getting closer to the sea - but not too close - Sören felt a strange sense of anticipation, like they were meant to be here. Like they were on sacred ground, sharing a holy mystery for their eyes only. That made no sense - that made even less sense to Sören than the belief of his countrymen in elves - but he couldn't shake the feeling.
It had been many years since Sören had been to Reynisfjara - well before he left Iceland, since his schedule had been so hectic working at the hospital in Reykjavik that he hadn't had time to do things like this. So even though he'd been here before, it was still like seeing it again for the first time, and he took in everything with awe... the basalt columns, the sea stacks in the distance, the cave. The dramatic beauty of the black sand with the silvery sky and steel sea.
"It's gorgeous," Anthony said, his tone hushed, reverent. "It's even more beautiful than I thought it would be."
"Jæja." Sören nodded, breathing in the salt air, enjoying the feel of the breeze in his hair. "Places like this, they... make an imprint in your soul." Sören put a hand on his heart.
Anthony turned Sören's face to his, love in his eyes. Passion. "Like you."
They kissed deeply - soul-deep. Sören moaned into the kiss, cock stirring in his jeans. Wanting. Since they were the only two people on the beach, Sören had the urge to push him down into the sand and ride him right there, in this place of wild, primal beauty. But then there was a sudden, intensely bright light, like an eclipse in reverse. Too bright to be just the sun peeking through the clouds - it was like there was a klieg light shining on them, but of course no one else was there with that sort of equipment.
The kiss broke and they looked out at the sea, puzzled. There was something glinting in the waves, shining like a lamp or a small sun, reflecting rainbows as it came riding out in the tide. Sören found himself striding closer to the waves.
"Sören!" Anthony shouted. "You said not to go close to -"
"I KNOW WHAT I SAID," Sören yelled back, feeling vaguely annoyed. He knew the danger, but he still had to do this. He didn't understand why, but he waited. The shining came closer, closer... brighter.
Sören bent to grab it as it rolled in. It was warm in his hands, almost too hot to hold, but not burning him. It was the size of a golfball, or a small egg. Sören picked it up in his cupped hands and the light was so bright he had to squint. Brilliant white light, with an iridescent flash more colorful and intense than something like labradorite or moonstone. It was like the stone itself had been made out of light.
Sören's mouth went dry, his hair stood on end, a chill going through him that had nothing to do with the cold Arctic Sea so close, the gloomy overcast winter day. It had everything to do with the fact that he had seen this exact stone before. But only in his dreams. Nonetheless, the stone was real, and the cold water running over his feet, the heat of the stone in his hands, meant he wasn't dreaming this.
Sören came running back, both to escape before an undertow could get him, and because he needed to show Anthony. Anthony's mouth opened when he looked at the stone. He made a noise, but couldn't make words.
"So you see this too? It's real." Sören passed the stone back and forth, casting rainbows over Anthony's face and body.
Anthony nodded, mouth open. Finally he found his words. "That's... that's definitely some rock there."
Sören snorted. "I'll say." Another chill went through him. His heart was hammering in his ears now. In a way, it would have been kinder if this was a dream or hallucination, if Anthony wasn't seeing what he was seeing. The fact that he'd dreamt of this stone and it had come to him... meant that possibly, maybe those dreams weren't just dreams. Maybe they were actual memories.
He didn't like what that implied. He didn't want reincarnation to be real, or anything involved with reincarnation or afterlives or gods or spirits, none of it. The idea that he and Anthony could have been elves, could have been part of the huldufólk and maybe the reason why his people still believed in elves was because those old wives' tales had actually been history, somehow...
Now it was Sören's turn to be speechless. He didn't know what to make of this. He thought about asking Anthony if he'd dreamt of the stones too, three of them, but he knew how crazy that sounded, even with the dreams they'd shared, and the answer to that - whether it was a yes or a no - was too much for Sören to handle right now. This, right now, was enough.
He didn't know what was going on with the past, but here and now, he'd dreamt of the stone, and it had come to him. "Mine," Sören said, turning the stone this way and that to see the refractions, the play of the light. "Mine."
Then he looked at Anthony, and hugged him tight. "Mine."
Anthony let his cane fall to the sand - Sören could pick it up in a bit - so he could put both arms around Sören, hugging him even more tightly. "I love you," Anthony said, his voice husky, sounding like he was ready to cry. Like he'd witnessed something so miraculous that it was the only response one could have. Sören understood that feeling - he was on the verge of tears himself.
Through his own tears, Sören replied, "Ég elska þig, bróðir minn. Alltaf og að eilífu."
_
When they got back to Reykjavik, it was already evening, and Sören decided that he needed a drink. Or a few drinks. "Mind blown" was a cliche and yet it was the only way to describe his finding on the beach. On the ride back Sören had looked for pubs on his phone, to see where they could have a drink as-is, without having to return to the hotel and get dressed up.
Anthony still tugged on Sören's sleeve anyway as Sören gave the driver instructions to the bar. "Shouldn't we... go back to the hotel and... put that away?" Anthony tapped the stone, secure in Sören's pocket.
"No," Sören said, and then he felt a little self-conscious of his vehemence. He patted Anthony, to show he hadn't meant to bite Anthony's head off, and said more gently, "It... it'll be fine where it is, right now. I just need to... ah..."
"I get it," Anthony said, and gave him a little kiss. "I didn't want you to worry about losing it, is all."
If someone tries to steal it from me I'll rip their fucking EYES out, Sören thought to himself, and then he wondered why he was having that reaction, when he wasn't usually so territorial about his property. Yes, the stone was important - it wasn't just that it was probably very valuable, and he'd found it, and he was planning on taking it as a souvenir of the trip, but it also felt like his. He'd dreamt of it, and it had come to him. Mine.
The stone also made a strangely comforting warmth in Sören's jeans pocket, which helped to remind him it was real, even as unsettling as that knowledge was. Sören's jeans, and the trenchcoat he wore, helped cover up the light, so hopefully that wouldn't attract potential thieves. Sören nonetheless felt a bit more guarded than usual as he and Anthony walked into the pub. He didn't like how on edge he was; he definitely needed that drink.
Sören had Brennivín, and Anthony had a mojito. Anthony put a hand on Sören's arm and said, "Just one for you. I don't want you to be too drunk to consent." That cheeky grin was back on Anthony's face again as he discretely turned on the vibe to its lowest setting. Sören purred like the vibrator inside him, giving him a quick kiss before they sat down.
As it turned out, they had come to the pub on a karaoke night, and watching people make drunken asses of themselves with bad singing and even worse dancing was so entertaining Sören didn't need more than one shot of alcohol to relax. Just one was enough to take the edge off... enough that Sören felt less inhibited and decided he was going to go up and sing. He decided on what they'd called their song, back in 2011 - what felt like ages ago now - "Never Too Much" by Luther Vandross. For the second verse Sören walked out with the mic to sing right to Anthony.
Woke up today, looked at your picture just to get me started
I called you up, but you weren't there and I was broken hearted
Hung up the phone, can't be too late, the boss is so demandin'
Opened the door up and to my surprise there you were standin'
Well, who needs to go to work to hustle for another dollar
I'd rather be with you 'cause you make my heart scream and holler
Love is a gamble and I'm so glad that I'm winnin'
We've come a long way and yet this is only the beginnin'
Oh, my love
A thousand kisses from you is never too much
(Never too much, never too much, never too much)
I just don't wanna stop
Oh, my love
A million days in your arms is never too much
(Never too much, never too much, never too much)
And I just don't wanna stop
Anthony's eyes were too bright, and Sören got choked up too. To his surprise, when the song was over people clapped and cheered and whistled; some even got up to give him a standing ovation. "YOU SHOULD TRY OUT FOR EUROVISION!" someone yelled. Sören's face was on fire and he gave a nervous laugh.
"SING ANOTHER SONG!" someone else yelled, and that got into a chorus of "Sing another song! Syngdu annað lag! SING! SYNGDU! SING! SYNGDU!" from the audience.
Sören looked around. "What do you think, everyone? Should I sing Queen? A little Freddie Mercury?"
A burly man with country blond hair and facial hair began to shout in a thick Icelandic accent, "PLAY JAJA DING DONG!"
"Oh... oh god." Sören laughed harder. "Oh no..."
The man got more insistent. "PLAY JAJA DINGDONG!" He stood up and raised his fist. "PLAY JAJA DING DONG RIGHT NOW!"
Sören looked over at the DJ and the DJ gave him a sympathetic look as he cued up a techno instrumental version of that song. Sören went back over to Anthony to sing to him.
When I feel your gentle touch
And things are going our way
I wanna spill my love on you all day, all day
Jaja ding dong
My love for you is growing wide and long
Jaja ding dong
I swell and burst when I see what we become
Jaja ding dong
Come on, baby, we can get love on
Jaja ding dong
When I see you, I feel like ding-ding dong...
Anthony and Sören were still laughing as they got in the hotel suite.
"Smooth," Anthony said, patting Sören's ass. "Very smooth."
"I can show you how smooth." Sören took down his jeans and panties to show his bare ass, and wiggled it.
Anthony laughed harder, before he slapped Sören's ass. He turned up the vibe higher, teasing him. Then he glanced over in the direction of the balcony. "You want to hit the jacuzzi before we... ding-ding dong?"
Sören gigglesnorted, nodding.
Anthony walked out to start the jacuzzi, then when he came back in they helped each other undress. Anthony pulled the plug out from Sören's ass, taking a moment to admire the hole primed and ready for him, and then Sören helped him into the hot tub.
For a few moments they just snuggled in silence, looking up at the night sky, enjoying the heat and the bubbles.
"I love you, you know," Anthony said, taking Sören's hand under the water.
"I love you too."
"This vacation has been... incredible. All of it." He glanced over at Sören, their eyes locking. "Especially today. You really did save the best for last."
"Like Jaja Ding Dong."
They laughed again. Anthony wiped his eyes. "That's not really an old-time Icelandic folk song, is it?"
Sören shook his head. "The story goes we made it up to take the piss out of American tourists, and then it, you know, stuck. Something of a tradition now."
"Strangely charmed by you singing it," Anthony said. "But then, your silliness has always been one of the things I love most about you."
"One of the things? Tell me more," Sören said, leaning closer.
Anthony smirked. "I love your dingdong."
When they calmed down, they kissed. And kissed. The atmosphere quickly went from silly to sensual, the two kissing, necking, petting, reaching for each other's hard cocks under the water and stroking slowly. "I want you," Anthony growled, nibbling Sören's shoulder.
"Then you shall have me."
It was time for Sören to unveil a surprise he'd been planning since just before the trip - a plan for their final night in Iceland, to go out with a bang. After he stopped in the bathroom to clean up a little before their romp, he made a detour to his luggage. As he walked to the bed he saw Anthony laying there, watching him, cock standing proudly erect, already dripping precum. Sören resisted the urge to jump on the bed and start riding it, telling himself this would be worth the wait.
"What's behind your back?" Anthony asked.
Sören pulled his hands out from behind his back; there was a black silk scarf in each hand. "I want to give myself to you." Anthony hadn't tied him up since they'd gotten back together, and Sören felt it was time.
Anthony swallowed hard, and blinked slowly. He seemed to understand what this implied - the trust they had rebuilt. "You're very sure."
Sören raised an eyebrow. "No, I just took these out to put on a show." He began to twirl them around singing, "Jaja ding dong..."
Anthony chuckled and crooked his finger. "Get over here," he said.
Sören got on the bed beside him and for a moment they just looked at each other. Then Anthony took Sören's face in his hands and kissed him deep and hungry. Sören's cock jolted and his hole twitched, aching for relief, but he knew he had to be patient.
Anthony took the scarves, and Sören lay back. Sören looked up at him with love in his eyes - and trust - as Anthony tied one of Sören's wrists to the headboard, then the other. Anthony took a moment to just look at Sören all tied up, breathing harder, cock slick with precum. He leaned in and kissed Sören again. "Thank you," Anthony husked.
Anthony had a surprise of his own - he got up and came back with his straight razor. He held the blade to Sören's throat as they kissed again. "I won't hurt you anymore, Sören," Anthony said softly. "I promise." With that, he let the blade slide down Sören's neck - just enough to bite, not cutting. Sören shivered and let out a little whimper, balls tightening, cock throbbing, urgent.
Anthony took his time, dragging the blade across Sören's flesh in the wake of his fingers and tongue as he worshiped every inch of flesh he could touch. He lingered at Sören's nipples, teasing them back and forth, licking, suckling, nibbling, tugging the rings with his teeth. His tongue took long, deliberate brush strokes at Sören's stomach and hips and thighs, nipping here and there, knowing how sensitive Sören was. His tongue traced the outline of the fireflower rose tattoo where Sören's hip and waist met, and as the blade grazed there Sören cried out, almost coming.
"Will never hurt you again," Anthony whispered, planting a tender little kiss on the rose. "Never, ever hurt you again." He kissed his way back up, slowly, sweetly, sensually, the blade biting up and up and up, until he came to Sören's heart. Sören watched as Anthony leaned up and made a shallow cut with the blade over his own heart, just enough to bleed, and then, with blood on the straight razor, he made a shallow cut over Sören's heart. He leaned back down and Anthony bled where Sören bled, and Anthony brought the blade to Sören's lips. Sören opened his mouth and his tongue gently cleaned their mingled blood from the blade. "Blood of my blood," Anthony said, meeting Sören's eyes. "Brother in heart, lover of my soul."
"Fucking fuck me."
Anthony laughed. Sören laughed too - but he couldn't help it, he was ridiculously turned on by what Anthony had just done... and that feeling of surrender and trust was a powerful aphrodisiac. Anthony looked down at Sören's dripping cock, and he closed up the straight razor and dove down to just lick at Sören's cock, teasing him some more.
"Oh god. Dammit, Anthony..." Sören bit his lip and let out a whine. It felt so good but he wanted to be filled, taken.
"Mmmmmm. You don't want me to let all this delicious pre go to waste, do you?" Anthony chased the flowing drops down the shaft with his tongue.
"Fuck..."
Anthony smiled and continued licking Sören's cock, around and around the head, rubbing his tongue up and down the sensitive, prominent frenulum. Up and down the shaft, slowly, then faster. He took just the head of Sören's cock into his mouth, sucking slowly, then after a few moments pulled the head out, collected more precum with his tongue, and gave the ring in Sören's head a little tug with his teeth before rubbing the frenulum some more, sucking at the head. Sören bucked and writhed, keening, feeling like even though he was restrained he could somehow climb the walls.
At last Anthony gave in, coming up to kiss Sören again - rubbing his hard cock against Sören's as they kissed, letting Sören feel how much he wanted this, too. He reached over for the lube and began to finger Sören slowly, one slick finger, then two, then three, until Sören was thrusting against his fingers, begging "Please, please. Oh god, please. Please, fuck me..."
With a kiss, Anthony pushed into him. When they were fully joined they both gasped, looking into each other's eyes. Tears came to Sören's eyes, feeling so much love for him - joy and relief that they were back together again, that Anthony had earned his trust, that things seemed like they would be OK...
...that they were, somehow, two parts of a larger whole. That Nicholas was somehow part of that too. Sören couldn't make sense of it yet - he didn't know if he ever would. But as Anthony took him, Sören felt that it was completely, utterly right. Like the stone of his dreams, Anthony had been lost, and found again.
And Sören wasn't going to let what was precious to him get away so easily.
"You're mine," Anthony rasped as he thrusted harder, faster.
"And you're mine." Sören leaned up a little - as much as the restraints would allow - to bite Anthony's neck. Claiming.
Anthony growled and bit Sören's neck in return, pounding away. Sören felt himself rushing to that point of no return, and as they kissed they came together, falling, flying.
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