The next day, Mark drove down to Boston to pick up Anthony at Logan Airport, with Sören in the passenger seat, who had picked out a 90s alternative rock playlist for the ride. It was a rainy April evening, and a heavy silence against the music added to the melancholy atmosphere, as neither Mark nor Sören knew what Anthony would decide - or if he would wait until tomorrow, prolonging the suspense even more - and despite Mark's fierce reassurance to Sören yesterday that even if Anthony rejected them, it wouldn't break their own relationship, that didn't mean such a rejection wouldn't hurt. The somber mood intensified as they got stuck in traffic for twenty minutes, despite trying to avoid rush hour, and Mark decided to put "Everybody Hurts" by R.E.M. on the playlist. Sören responded by pulling a lighter out of the glove compartment and slowly waving it back and forth, which got a badly needed chuckle out of Mark.
At last they made it to the parking garage and the airport, just in time to hear the announcement of Anthony's flight number coming in. They were supposed to meet him at the baggage claim, and once they got there Sören began his usual pacing around with anxiety. Just before Mark could pull Sören aside and give him a reassuring hug...
...there he was. Anthony came towards them, wearing a brown leather jacket over a teal blue cashmere sweater and faded jeans. His eyes were tired and his hair was mussed - he'd been on an eight-hour non-stop and Mark knew he had jet lag trying to adjust back to US Eastern time from London time - but his handsome face was still a sight for sore eyes. Especially when he smiled, raising a hand in greeting. Anthony's smile was genuine, crow's feet crinkling, and that gave Mark a small wave of relief - it wasn't the forced, tense smile Anthony had given them the day he left.
Sören ran right over to him, yelling "ANTHONYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!" and gave him a pouncing hug. Anthony chuckled and threw his arms around Sören, hugging him tight, the two of them rocking together for a moment. Mark arrived at their side and Anthony reached out to touch his face; Mark leaned into Anthony's touch, savoring it... hoping it meant what he thought it did.
They waited for Anthony's luggage in companionable silence. Mark broke the ice by saying, "If you're really hungry, we can stop at one of the restaurants - I'm sure they have vegetarian options or something that isn't treif, but -"
Sören finished the sentence. "I have the slow cooker going because I thought you might want a home-cooked meal after days of eating takeout or restaurant food."
Anthony nodded and ruffled Sören's curls. "That was very kind of you and that sounds lovely, thank you."
The silence returned as they headed out to the parking garage, this time more awkward than comfortable, enough so that Mark was starting to think he read Anthony's body language wrong, but then just as they approached the car Anthony said, "Sorry I haven't said much. It's been a very long day and I'm kind of sensory overloaded and need to decompress."
"I understand," Sören said.
"We can let you be on the way back if that would help," Mark said, nodding.
"Yeah, it would, and I'm sorry, but thank you." Anthony gave each of them a pat before he climbed into the back seat.
Anthony zoned out on the way from Boston to Portland; the 90s alternative playlist continued, fitting the melancholy atmosphere of the rainy night. Every now and again Sören glanced over, all worried brown eyes. Mark himself was a little worried, though cautiously optimistic.
Finally when they got to Bentham, Anthony perked a little, stretching and yawning.
"I hope your flight went OK," Sören said, looking over his shoulder at Anthony in the backseat.
"Oh yeah, it was very routine. Just... long." Anthony grimaced into the rear-view mirror. "Not only is it uncomfortable to sit for so long, but I have flying anxiety and it gets even worse in the airplane's restroom, so tiny and you can feel every motion."
"I don't like flying either," Sören said. "I'd like to see my home country again but the thought of flying there can fuck right off."
Anthony gave them another genuine smile once they were out of the car, then he led the way to his house, Mark wheeling Anthony's luggage for him, heart pounding with every step. At the door, Anthony paused to touch the mezuzah at the doorpost and kiss his fingers, and the minute he stepped inside the animals were all right there. "MAIMONIDES!" Anthony shouted, squatting down to hug the dog and vigorously stroke his fur. Then he leaned in to let Solly and Shmuel sniff him and accept skritches. "Awwww, Solly, Shmuel, my babies. My good, good babies, I've missed you so much. Yes, Daddy's home. Yes, your Daddy's home. I didn't abandon you. I went to see your great-grandmother. Yes I did." Then Anthony reached out to also give Huan, Snúður and Fabio pettings. "Hello there. Hello. It's nice to see you again."
"It's nice to see you too," Huan replied.
Anthony almost fell over. "I keep forgetting that... that dog... can. Bloody hell."
Huan smiled with his tongue lolling, amused by Anthony's reaction.
Mark and Sören exchanged smiles, enjoying Anthony's tenderness with his furry family as well as Anthony still getting used to Huan being Huan. Anthony got up, and once they'd removed shoes and outerwear, Mark and Anthony went to the living room and Sören headed for the kitchen. A few paces in, Sören paused and looked over. "Um... so, before I dish out food, do you want us to go back to our place and let you chill, or -"
"You can stay." Anthony exhaled deeply, shoulders heaving. "We can talk."
Sören's eyes met Mark's. Mark swallowed hard, even as he still felt that glimmer of hope. Sören gave a small nod and continued onto the kitchen. The anticipation of those few moments was almost unbearable, especially when Anthony took off for the bathroom to do his business, freshen up and change into pajamas, but when Sören came back with bowls of Spanish-style arroz con pollo, the distraction of good food took some of the edge off. Anthony put his feet up and zoned out some more to TV while they ate, and though Sören was getting fidgety he and Mark let Anthony soak up a little more mental rest as he ate, knowing he'd been battling high anxiety all day. When Anthony was done, he told Sören, "This was so good. Such a nice gesture after living on takeaway for a week."
"You're welcome." Sören beamed. "I hope the visit went well, despite lack of home-cooked food."
"Yeah, it did. I got to take Bubbe out for her birthday - we went to a restaurant, and a botanical garden - and we went out a couple other times that week, shopping, a park, even a small concert. I also spent a lot of time with her at the care home, talking, playing games. I felt guilty leaving, and wish there wasn't an ocean separating us, as I may never see her again... but I'm in no great rush to move back to the UK and finding care for her here - presuming she was even cleared to fly - would be more expensive and likely not the same quality."
Mark nodded. "Leaving your only family behind can be intensely difficult." He thought about Elrond and Elros, his adopted sons.
Anthony looked down, nodding. Then their gaze locked, and Mark knew he was preparing to give The Speech about his decision, one way or another. Mark braced himself; Sören also sensed it was coming and took Mark's hand.
"I told her," Anthony said, sitting up and squaring his shoulders. "About you. Not the elf thing, I mean, but... us. About us."
Mark raised an eyebrow. Even though Anthony had mentioned his grandmother was an early feminist and a longtime ally of LGBT people, societal acceptance of polyamory was still a long ways off. "How did she take it?"
Anthony's lips quirked. "She said, 'Well, are they Jewish boys?'"
Sören's laughter rang out, and Mark laughed too, tickled and relieved.
"I told her 'Mark is Sephardic and Sören is converting'." Anthony looked at Mark. "I know that calling you Sephardic is oversimplifying it..."
Mark waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it, it's the best shorthand explanation. She doesn't need to know I was living in Sephardic communities centuries ago." With that, Mark dropped his glamour. Anthony stared for a moment with his mouth slightly open - Mark knew it would probably be awhile for Anthony to get used to his unglamoured appearance, even Sören after five years was still sometimes stunned.
"So wait... hold up." Sören put his hands up, then he leaned back. "You told her about us? As your boyfriends? Does that mean..."
"Yeah." Anthony nodded. He smiled, then his eyes were suddenly too bright and his jaw trembled. "Yeah. It means... I want this to work. I..." Anthony covered his mouth with the heel of his hand, blinking back tears.
Mark made a "come here" gesture. Anthony went over to the couch and they pulled him close, holding him together, rocking him as Anthony fell apart, and Sören also wept with relief. Mark shed a few silent tears... and gave a silent prayer of gratitude.
But because of Mark's history, he still reflexively felt the need to ask, "You're sure? You're really sure?"
Anthony looked up and touched Mark's face, seemingly understanding intuitively why Mark was asking. "Yeah, I am." Anthony smiled and kissed the tip of Mark's nose. "I'm all in."
Sören grinned. "Not yet, but you could be."
Anthony howled, laughing through his tears. Mark groaned loudly, but then he snickered too - that was such a typical Sören response. Anthony rose from where he'd been curled up on both of them, and he reached out both his hands; Sören and Mark took his hands and got up too. "I think I'm in the mood for dessert," Anthony said, his voice husky as he gave them a pointed look.
"Let us welcome you home, elskan," Sören said, before claiming a deep, hungry kiss.
Once Sören was naked, Anthony looked him up and down and let out a low whistle. "What happened?"
Sören's torso and thighs were covered in clusters of blue-green bruises, with some patches of yellow-purple. Sören glanced over at Mark with a smirk on his face, and Mark decided just to be honest. "Sören was having some anxiety about whether or not our own relationship would fall apart if you came back and said no, so I decided to assure him that he belongs to me and I'm not going anywhere in a very... visceral way."
Sören snickered. "More like I wasn't going anywhere." Sören turned back to Anthony with a big, cheesy grin on his face. "He tied me up."
Anthony's eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened... but he matched Sören's grin. "Wow." Anthony bit his lower lip. "Just. Wow." Anthony looked off to the side and his cheeks flushed pink.
Mark wondered if Anthony's curiosity had been piqued. Of course, Anthony didn't seem submissive at all - Anthony liked being called Daddy, and Mark knew that usually came with a dominant streak. He could practically see the gears turning in Anthony's head, but then Anthony said, "Well, Sören probably needs a break from anything intense tonight and I've had a very long day... in a very long week apart from both of you." Anthony's fingers trailed down Sören's chest, then Mark's, and he stepped forward to kiss each of them in turn as his hands reached between their legs, gently caressing. Sören's breath hitched and Mark groaned, his cunt throbbing at Anthony's touch.
Anthony got down on his knees, and moved towards Mark, looking up with tenderness and awe in his eyes at the sight of Mark unglamoured. Mark cried out as Anthony took a few licks at him, and again when Anthony began sucking at his clit. Sören kissed Mark before he could cry out again; Mark moaned into Sören's kisses as Anthony lapped and sucked. He'd missed that wicked tongue and those sweet lips.
Then Anthony turned to Sören, and Mark looked down to watch the erotic imagery of Anthony licking, sucking... tugging on Sören's clit ring before sucking harder. Sören and Mark kissed, and soon Sören's nails were digging in Anthony's shoulder as he gently rolled his hips, fucking Anthony's mouth. Anthony reached down, pawing himself, groaning as he sucked Sören's clit. A few minutes later Sören pulled back, breathless and trembling. He touched Anthony's face - Anthony leaned into his touch with a smile - and Sören rasped, "So about you being 'all in'..."
Anthony chuckled as he got up, and kissed Sören, sharing the taste of his juices, then kissed Mark with the lingering notes of it. "Did you guys bring a strap? I don't own one, hadn't exactly gotten around much before -"
"We have a strap - and a double dildo - but our toys are at the duplex." Mark stopped himself from saying "home", because this would be their home now; that thought gave him a warm glow. "We don't use toys often, which is why we didn't..."
"I get it," Anthony said.
"Besides..." Sören looked down at Anthony's hard clit standing at attention, and stroked it with his index finger, grinning when it twitched in response. "I think that will be plenty."
Anthony's face lit up and he let out a full-bodied laugh, delighted. "It can get harder than this. I have a pump." He claimed another kiss from each of them. "And I know you can get even wetter."
"Please, Daddy." Sören gave him a pleading look.
Sören and Mark lay back on the bed, side by side, turning their faces towards each other so they could make out as Anthony went back and forth between them, lapping and sucking at one, then the other, making filthy slurping noises that drove Mark mad with lust. Mark lost himself in the ecstasy of Anthony hungrily devouring him and Sören's sensual kisses... watching Anthony eating Sören, making streamers with Sören's cream. Sören and Mark moaned together, getting louder as Anthony's tongue lashed harder, faster. When they were both panting, shaking with urgent need for release, Anthony rose up to catch his breath. Mark groaned appreciatively at the sight of Anthony's lips and chin glistening with their juices.
"How are we going to do this?" Mark asked, watching Anthony pump himself, clit growing longer and thicker.
"I have an idea." Anthony smirked. "I've fantasized about it enough times."
Anthony told them, then Mark and Sören played Rock Paper Scissors to determine who would be the top for rubbing together - Anthony cackled at the appropriateness of the game - and Mark's rock blunted Sören's scissors. Sören lay back again, spreading his thighs, and Mark's cunt throbbed, almost coming untouched as he saw how creamy Sören was. He climbed on top of Sören and maneuvered into place, both men crying out as their clits touched and their cunt lips kissed.
For a few moments Anthony watched, stroking himself, tugging on his clit like it was a cock, as Mark and Sören rolled their hips, clit sliding against clit, pussy lips teasing. Then Anthony came over - Mark felt Anthony's hands on his hips as Anthony got behind them, then Anthony's hips thrust forward against his...
...and Anthony's clit slipped inside him. Mark moaned, once again almost coming, going out of his mind with fevered lust. There was nothing better than feeling Sören's clit caress his clit just right, as Anthony's clit worked in and out like a finger, stroking his inner walls. Mark went deeper and deeper into sensation, his body aching to come but never wanting to stop the sweet rubbing in and out, so good.
Just before Mark could come that way, Anthony pulled out, and Mark felt Anthony's hands on his hips again, Anthony tilting his hips lower - Mark scooted up just a little to give Anthony better access. Sören howled, nails raking Mark's back, and Mark knew Anthony's clit was inside him now. "Yes, yes," Sören panted, eyes wild. "Daddy, Daddy!" He bit his lip and whimpered and Anthony groaned; Mark groaned too at the wet squelching sound. Mark almost came again as he realized Anthony was pushing his juices into Sören - they could be inside each other this way. A few thrusts later Anthony's clit was in him again, slick with Sören's juices.
Anthony took turns, a few strokes inside Mark's cunt, then inside Sören's cunt, as Mark and Sören continued fucking clit to clit. It was the most decadent pleasure Mark had ever known, so deliciously debauched. The need to come intensified, almost painful, yet Mark kept holding back, savoring every luscious stroke... savoring Sören's moans and gasps, the look on Sören's face each time Anthony took him. As they got closer, Mark and Sören kissed, and the wet squishing, suctioning sound of their fuck got louder. Anthony grunted, and Mark could feel him quivering - knowing Anthony was feeling that same frenzied excitement and holding back, wanting to keep that hot fuck going as long as he could, fueled Mark's lust.
At last Sören climaxed, screaming in Icelandic, and the feel of Sören's cunt contracting underneath his set off Mark's orgasm, almost sobbing with the powerful, shattering pleasure... then Anthony came with a shuddery gasp as he felt Mark's inner walls pulsing, his clit twitching inside Mark. Anthony sank down, groaning into Mark's neck, arms encircling him and holding tight. A moment later Anthony reached out a hand to touch Sören's face, and Sören smiled. Mark sighed as the relief rolled over him, then waves and waves of contentment.
When they came down, the three of them assembled into a cuddle-pile, Anthony snuggling both of them against his chest, Mark and Sören's legs braiding; Mark, Anthony and Sören clasped hands. The two dogs and four cats got on the bed too, and Mark thought to himself, Everything in its proper place, though he wondered if Fingolfin was out there and if their paths would cross with his eventually.
Here and now... they had each other. Anthony had chosen to give it a try, complications and all. Macalaurë Fëanorion was not only no longer alone, but he had two loves - he had a family again.
go to horny jail | go to story index | return to Maglor Fanfic | go to home page