There is marijuana use in this chapter, which I wrote in March 2024 before quitting weed in May 2024. I decided not to edit it out and leave it as is, but if this will be triggering, you can use Find to skip down to Once they were all in Anthony's Prius, Sören groaned.
A month later, at the end of March, Anthony had the second bedroom cleared out and Sören and Mark were beginning to move in, bringing non-essential belongings over to store in the spare room - once everything they were taking with them was in the house and put in its proper place, the room would become a studio for Sören's art and Mark's music. Before the move was finalized, Sören and Mark would be donating their bed and some of their furniture and cookware, and Anthony was also going to be donating his queen-sized bed to replace with a king-sized bed that would fit three people.
In the meantime, Sören and Mark were spending weekends at Anthony's house, bringing their animals, and during the week Anthony came over after work to help them pack. Of course they did fun stuff too - watching movies, playing board and card games and video games and going to the park - and there was a lot of cuddling and a lot of sex. Sören and Mark had become a fixture in Anthony's life, the two of them like a piece of Anthony's soul he didn't even know was missing.
Life was good. Almost too good to be true. Apart from their commitment moving so quickly, the pair didn't give off any obvious red flags - though Anthony often found himself wondering about Mark, who seemed to have lived a complicated, interesting life and yet never talked about it. Anthony was especially curious about Mark's time in Israel and why he seemed intimately familiar with Sephardic culture and yet didn't identify as a Jew, which made him curious if Mark was ex-Haredi and he left because he was trans and it was a sore spot - Anthony wondered if Mark's past military service that he never talked about beyond a passing mention was in fact the IDF, something Haredi Jews usually didn't do, and he was tight-lipped about it for that reason besides current events and fear of judgment - even though Mark didn't seem otherwise uncomfortable and avoidant with Judaism.
In fact, Mark and Sören were now attending services with Anthony at his shul on Friday nights. While Reform Judaism was inclusive of LGBTQ+ people and Anthony's shul was welcoming, polyamory was one of the "final frontiers" of societal acceptance - some Reform Jews were fine with polyamory or were poly themselves, and some were not. Anthony had debated whether or not to disclose on a need-to-know basis, neither hiding it nor advertising it, but since Sören was interested in converting and the question of marriage/children usually came up during one's conversion candidacy, Anthony decided it was better not to hide it when they met with the rabbi to discuss Sören's options. To Anthony's relief, his rabbi wasn't judgmental about it, and the members of his shul who figured it out seemed happy for them.
And now it was Purim. Purim fell on a Sunday this year and Anthony worked Sundays to compensate for taking Saturdays off, but today he'd gotten the holiday as a personal day. He was an early riser by virtue of his work schedule, and while Mark and Sören were still asleep, Anthony got up and after feeding the cats, set to work making batches of raspberry and apricot hamentaschen. While he was cutting out cookie dough, Mark stumbled into the kitchen, looking half-asleep.
"Ah, you're making hamentaschen," Mark said.
Anthony paused, slightly surprised Mark knew what he was doing, and annoyed with himself for being surprised, once again reminding himself Mark had spent time in Israel... once again wondering what Mark's deal was. "Yeah," Anthony said.
"You want some help?"
They worked together in companionable silence, folding the cookies into triangles and spooning the filling in the center. When the cookies were in the oven, they put outerwear over their pajamas and took Huan and Maimonides for a walk around the block, enjoying the picturesque spring morning even though it was overcast and chilly. They got back just in time for the cookies to come out of the oven, and Anthony fed one to Mark to taste-test and make sure it was acceptable. The way Mark sucked apricot jam off Anthony's finger sent a frisson down Anthony's spine, going hard and slick, wanting.
Anthony put together a tray with three plates of hamantaschen, and headed for the bedroom, with Mark following behind carrying orange juice and cups. Sören was already half-awake - all four cats were on the bed, loving up on him, and Sören sat up and smiled when he saw Anthony was bringing him breakfast in bed. Then his face lit up when he saw...
"Cookies for breakfast?"
Anthony grinned. "We're adults, and it's for Purim."
Sören knew about the story of Esther, Mordecai and Haman, but as he took a plate of hamantaschen, Anthony explained, "Haman is usually depicted with a three-cornered hat, which is why the cookies are shaped this way, they're called hamantaschen plural, or hamantash individual."
Sören smirked as he studied a hamantash. "They look like pussies."
Anthony and Mark snickered. "Yeah," Anthony said, "there's a feminist school of thought that Purim was either the Jewish substitution for a spring fertility festival, with Ishtar rewritten as Esther - like the way Saturnalia and Yule became Christmas to the Christians - or alternatively, that the cookies are shaped this way to honor Esther using her... charms... to save her people, and 'Haman's hat' is the sanitized, family-friendly explanation."
"You're cute when you infodump." Sören wrinkled his nose.
"Talk nerdy to me," Mark quipped.
Anthony bit his lip, cheeks burning.
Sören took a suggestive lick at the raspberry filling, then gave each of them a pointed look before popping the cookie in his mouth. "Delicious." He licked his lips.
When they were finished with the hamantaschen, they wasted no time getting their pajamas off and fell on each other, kissing feverishly. Anthony trembled as Sören and Mark ran their hands over him - after being touch-starved for so long, it was absolutely decadent to feel two pairs of hands caressing him. Anthony and Sören kissed while Mark kissed and licked Anthony's neck and shoulder, then as Sören leaned in to work on Anthony's nipples, suckling one as his thumb rubbed the other, Mark and Anthony kissed. After a few rounds at Anthony's hard, aching nipples, Sören kissed and licked his way up Anthony's chest and throat. Sören and Mark kissed, then they shared a three-way kiss, tongues rubbing together.
Anthony grabbed Sören and sat up a little so he could return the favor, pleasuring Sören's nipples with his lips and tongue. He loved Sören's pierced nipples, and he loved Sören's clit ring even more, reaching down to play with it, making Sören moan. He couldn't resist sliding his hand down lower and feeling how wet Sören was - now Anthony moaned, going out of his mind with lust. As Anthony, Sören and Mark took turns kissing, Anthony's slick fingers brushed Sören's hard clit, and tugged on it like it was a cock. Sören's urgent whimper let Anthony know he was ready for more. So was Anthony. He felt ravenous.
Mark and Sören lay next to each other and made out, sharing sensual open-mouthed kisses, tongues rubbing together, and deep, passionate kisses, while Anthony buried his face in Sören's cunt, lapping, sucking his clit a few strokes, then turning to Mark and doing the same. He went back and forth between them, enjoying their different flavors, the sound of their moans... and the sound of their wetness when Anthony began fingering both of them. His own cunt was dripping, his clit rock-hard, but he focused on their pleasure, licking faster and sucking harder with each turn, their cream all over his lips and chin. His fingers banged away inside them, juices trickling down his hands.
When Sören began fucking himself on Anthony's fingers, thighs quivering, and Anthony felt Mark pulsate ever so slightly, he knew they were both getting close. His eyes locked with Sören's and he growled as his lips tugged on Sören's clit, then he watched Mark panting as he rolled Mark's clit around in his mouth. Mark took Sören's hand and squeezed, crying out as he squirted on Anthony's face. Anthony groaned, his cunt throbbing with urgent need as he drank what he could, relishing the power trip of making him come that hard. He turned back to Sören and a moment later Sören finished, whimpering as his clit twitched in Anthony's mouth and his inner walls gripped Anthony's fingers, clenching, pulsing. Anthony growled with satisfaction, pulling back to watch Sören's climax, cream gushing. He took a few last licks at the flowing juices, greedy for it, and Sören's breathy moan almost made him come untouched.
Anthony desperately needed relief, but he gave Mark and Sören a chance to rest in post-orgasmic bliss. Once he began kissing them, sharing their cream with them and making a sloppy mess, Mark and Sören were ready to go for another round.
Anthony lay back and Sören and Mark kissed and caressed their way down his body. Anthony once again marveled that he had two gorgeous men taking care of him, pleasuring him... making him feel loved, desired. It felt especially intimate to make love with other trans men, knowing intuitively what they liked, gay men honoring each other as men. Anthony sighed with contentment as he felt Sören's tongue on him while Mark kissed and nibbled his inner thigh. Then he cried out as Sören's lips clamped down on his hard clit, and Mark's lips tugged on one of his pussy lips, then Sören moved over slightly, sucking harder, as Mark sucked on both of them. There were few things more luscious than having his clit sucked and his cunt lips sucked at the same time; Anthony grabbed fistfuls of the sheets, white-knuckled, arched to them, panting, trembling, losing himself in sensation.
It was even hotter when he watched Sören and Mark kiss open-mouthed, making streamers with his juices as their tongues teased. Anthony couldn't take it anymore - he growled, the beast in him awakened. He rose up on his knees, and grabbed hold of Sören's curls and Mark's hair, dragging them up towards the pillows. Mark grinned and propped up the pillows, leaning against them, and as Sören climbed on top of Mark, Anthony straddled Mark's shoulders.
Now Mark's tongue was inside him, stroking his inner walls, as Sören sucked his clit, slurping obscenely as he shook his head back and forth. Anthony rocked his hips, fucking their mouths... matching Sören's rhythm as Sören rubbed against Mark, clit fucking clit. Sören and Mark moaned into him, their cunts making wet smacking sounds as they rutted together, and Anthony groaned, loving it. He almost climaxed when Sören and Mark paused to kiss, once again making a mess with his cream. Then they got back to work, and now Mark was bucking underneath Sören, their cunts slapping louder, as Sören sucked Anthony's clit as hard as he could, rolling it around in his mouth, shaking his head, and Mark's tongue lashed away. Anthony heard himself swearing, breath in shaky gasps, getting closer and closer and closer, desperate to come but never wanting them to stop, the pleasure so intense it was almost painful.
At last he came hard, throwing his head back with a cry, and as he gushed on their faces Sören and Mark came together too, holding each other tight as they shuddered. Anthony rolled beside them, laughing with euphoria.
"Oh fuck, that was good." Anthony felt himself grinning so hard his face hurt. For a moment it felt like the world was singing and it looked like Mark was glowing slightly; Anthony closed his eyes and sighed deeply.
"We love you, elskan." Sören rained kisses over his face, then Sören, Anthony and Mark took turns kissing and rubbing noses.
Anthony pulled both of them close, an arm around each of them. "I love you guys so much." Anthony tousled their hair as his toes curled with deep relaxation.
When they came down, it was time to get ready for the Purim spiel and carnival - it was his shul's custom for everyone to skip wearing kippot today and wear silly hats instead, to mock Haman's hat. It was Sören's first Jewish holiday and Anthony thought Purim as one's first Jewish holiday was like being thrown into the deep end of the pool without knowing how to swim, but Sören seemed like he was born for wearing a silly hat to a loud, boisterous event. Anthony put on a suit for the holiday but its dignity was offset by a sparkly rainbow top hat and a matching tie, Mark was wearing an iridescent conical hat reminiscent of garden gnomes or Christmas elves, and Sören himself was decked out in a rainbow Viking hat that made him look like "Jon Snow officiating a Pride parade", as Mark quipped.
Though it was a Purim custom to get very drunk, it was also not mandatory - Anthony didn't want to be hungover for work the next day, and one of Sören's guardians had been an alcoholic so contrary to the stereotype about Scandinavians, Sören didn't drink to excess. However, before the event Sören and Mark each had half of a marijuana gummy, with Anthony abstaining as the designated driver, and he could tell when the weed kicked in for Sören, who started grinning and giggling during the spiel. Sören's smile and laughter was a natural high for Anthony, lighting up his whole world.
So was Mark's voice, as he sang along when it was time to sing. In previous weeks Mark had sung more quietly during the music at services, even though Anthony knew he had a gorgeous voice. Today, while high, Mark held nothing back, raising eyebrows... making Anthony speculate yet again what Mark meant when he said "not quite" as the response to whether or not he was Jewish. Mark had the voice of a hazzan.
Anthony, Mark and Sören took turns dancing with each other, and Anthony exploded with laughter at the sight of his rabbi drunk-dancing, a once-in-a-year event - he'd seen his rabbi dance at Simchat Torah, but this was very different. Then Anthony laughed again when Sören did his best impression of Cookie Monster as they made the rounds of catered appetizers and other food items people had brought in; everything was pareve and labeled for allergens.
Once they were all in Anthony's Prius, Sören groaned and flopped over in the backseat. "I ate so much that I'm going to plotz."
Anthony smiled at the use of Yiddish.
"The sun finally came out, it's a nice day, maybe some fresh air would help?" Mark glanced at Sören in the rear-view mirror, then over at Anthony.
Anthony nodded. "We could stop and pick up the dogs, they might appreciate going out for a bit."
On the way to Anthony's house, they decided to visit Craig Beach - it was a sunny day but it was still March and chilly, and not likely to be crowded, and dogs were permitted at the beach so long as leash laws were followed. They didn't just get the dogs and change into something more comfortable, but Mark carried out his harp to take to the beach as well, which Anthony found a bit odd, but then again, it was a holiday and they were still in a festive mood.
At the beach they found a spot to park the harp, a blanket, and a small bag of drinks, and then they took Huan and Maimonides on a walk. Anthony was glad they were the only people at the beach and the dogs wouldn't be overstimulated by other dogs. Every now and again they paused to watch the waves sparkling in the sunshine as they rolled in, the seabirds flying around the rocks. Anthony snapped some photos of the three of them, wanting to preserve this precious moment of peace.
Finally they headed to the blanket; Anthony and Sören sat down with the dogs while Mark serenaded them, playing a mix of cover songs - mostly hits from the 80s and 90s - a few Ashkenazi and Sephardic songs for good measure, and original compositions that were either instrumental or in a language that Anthony didn't understand - he guessed Finnish, but he didn't think that was quite right. And yet, even though Anthony didn't know what Mark was singing, his heart seemed to know. Longing for home... and finding it again. In Anthony's mind's eye, he remembered recurring dreams that had stopped some years ago and returned recently, dreams where he had blond hair longer than Mark's, a walled garden by the sea, a pond with swans. A place that he knew existed nowhere in reality and yet felt real. A place -
Suddenly, a very bright light was shining on them, as if someone had turned on a klieg light, but there was no one else around. Anthony squinted, instinctively turning in the direction of the light, and saw it glinting on a wave. Sören immediately rose up, his mouth open, and then he handed Huan's leash to Mark - who'd stopped playing - and Anthony watched Sören run to the waves, despite his asthma. Sören kicked off his Doc Martens and peeled off his socks, and started wading into the water, ignoring Anthony's call to stop, it was too cold. Sören got up to his knees, stooped down, and reached for the bobbing light.
"You meshuggeneh bastard," Anthony said under his breath with a mixture of admiration and exasperation.
Sören came out of the water, jeans soaked below the knee, just as high tide was coming in and washed his boots and socks into the ocean. Sören looked over and grimaced - Anthony did too, he knew from his own goth-punk days Doc Martens were a pretty penny - but Sören kept walking over with his hands behind his back.
When he reached the blanket, he presented what he had drawn out of the water. It was a gem the size of a golf ball, like a diamond but much more refracted, casting rainbows... almost blinding in its brightness, and generating its own warmth. There was no scientific way that could be possible with something in the ice-cold March ocean, and yet, there it was.
Anthony looked at Mark and then he gasped. Mark was also glowing, but not from the gem in Sören's hand, and not as brightly. But more than that, his hair was longer - from the middle of his back down to his waist - and his grey eyes looked more liquid silver and were iridescent, flashing blue-gold like labradorite. In the stirring breeze, Anthony saw Mark's ears for the first time, and the tips were... pointy.
Anthony squeaked, and immediately clapped his hand over his mouth. His other hand shook as he tried to point, and couldn't. He felt like he was frozen in place, barely breathing in shock.
"Your Quendi is showing," Sören said, rolling the gem around in his hand.
Mark swallowed hard, and got up from the harp. "Right. We need to leave... now." He pulled Anthony up from the blanket - Mark's touch was almost like static or vibration, and yet like neither - and Anthony locked eyes with him for a moment, fascinated and a little terrified.
Anthony walked Maimonides while Sören walked Huan, Mark charging ahead of them with the harp. Anthony's head was spinning, not able to believe any of this - the too-bright gem, and then Mark changing like that.
When they were in the car, Mark took a few deep breaths and Anthony watched the hair go back to its usual length, the glow fading, though Mark's eyes remained the same stunning silver-blue-gold when he looked over. Anthony put the keys in the ignition, trying to pull himself together enough to drive, but first he found his words.
"What is that?" Anthony glanced behind his shoulder at Sören, who was holding the gem in his fist but it still glowed enough to make him shiny. He turned back to Mark. "What are you?"
"I'll explain when we get back to your house," Mark said quietly.
Anthony leaned back against the couch and buried his face in his hands for a moment, trying to take it all in. "This is A Lot."
"Yeah." Mark gave a wry chuckle. "That's the understatement of a lifetime."
Anthony pulled his hands away - Mark was unglamoured again, now that Anthony knew the truth of who and what Maglor was, there was no point of him disguising himself. Anthony voiced the random thought, his own filter gone with Mark's glamour. "In Soviet Middle-Earth, Purim undisguises you."
Mark got the Yakov Smirnoff reference and Sören was too young for it, which made Anthony feel old, but then he reminded himself that despite his thirtysomething appearance, Mark walked the Earth when mammoth and dire wolves still existed.
That was still less brain-breaking than knowing Tolkien's works weren't just fiction, but Beren's gilgul as Tolkien, remembering his incarnation and writing it down. Knowing that his own recurring dreams weren't just dreams, and neither were Sören's, and he and Sören had been brothers eons ago. But their paths had taken very different turns, Fëanor's through blood. And now that Fëanor was reconciling with the Creator, the Silmaril had been returned to him as a sign.
Maglor had made his peace with G-d a long time ago, when he lived among the Jewish people, and became one of them. Anthony found it the most brain-breaking of all that he was sitting in front of a converso who had survived the Inquisition and had still, for a time, practiced crypto-Judaism in secret, though less and less as time wore on and Mark had to keep moving, eventually all the way to the New World. Anthony now had an explanation for why Mark had said he'd lived in Israel - he did when the Romans still called it Judea - and had said "not quite" when asked if he was Jewish, and it made more sense than Anthony's guess that Mark was ex-Hasidic, though it was also somehow more troubling.
Not the least of which being the reason why Mark had been there in the first place - wandering endlessly, because he didn't age, and glamouring himself to affect an aged appearance was too exhausting and always carried the risk of exposure. Sometimes, Mark had taken lovers and chosen family with him when it was time to move along before people asked questions. But most of the time, he had gone on alone; Sören had been the first in decades.
And now, Anthony had a very difficult decision to make.
While he was annoyed that Mark had kept this from him, he reminded himself that Mark hadn't been very forthcoming about his background, except for bits and pieces that weren't quite lies - for example, saying he lived in Israel at one time, but not mentioning it had been pre-Christianity, which Anthony would have taken as a joke. Mark had explained that as a rule, he tried not to give too many fake details about his life, not just because it wasn't fair to anyone he let past an arm's length but also so he didn't get caught contradicting himself and having to backpedal. Mark had also explained he intended on telling Anthony before the end of April when they were all moved in, but needed the right time and place to broach such a delicate subject. The return of the Silmaril, and Mark's glamour dropping in shock, had forced his hand.
Mark and Sören weren't entirely moved in yet, and now Anthony needed to decide if he was going to continue the relationship at all, coming with Sören and Mark when it was time for Mark to leave Maine - which wouldn't be for some years yet; the one good thing Anthony could say about vapid celebrity and influencer culture was that it normalized older people with a youthful appearance and that made it easier for Mark to look like he did and stay in one place for a generation - or if he was going to cut his losses before they all got even more emotionally invested, at which point Mark and Sören would disappear, taking their secrets with them for safety's sake, even though Anthony had no plans to out them publicly or privately. As it was, Anthony had to repeatedly pinch himself that he wasn't dreaming or hallucinating, especially when Huan spoke to say, "You're not hallucinating." Anthony was sure he not only would not be believed if he tried to tell someone at the office or his shul, but he'd probably be put on a psych ward.
And it was the sort of decision Anthony couldn't make immediately. He'd been sitting here for an hour, trying to process all of it, trying to wrap his head around the fact that Hashem worked in even stranger ways than the mystics thought possible, and he was torn between wanting to thank G-d for confirming His existence and wanting to scream at G-d for the same thing with the added bonus of radically upending his life one way or another. Whatever he chose, nothing would ever be the same, whether he would lose the two great loves of his life and grieve, or be forced to remake himself to follow them to the ends of the Earth.
He knew what his heart wanted - to go with them when it was time. But he also knew he had to let his head rule - the relationship was still fairly new; if he'd effectively had to die as Anthony Hewlett-Johnson, veterinarian, and receive a new identity as Anthony Whoever, in a new line of work to not be traced to his former identity, and forever be mindful of any new friend he let in past an arm's length and what he told them, worrying that one slip could spell disaster... that was going to be challenging enough on its own, never mind if the relationship hit obstacles and he was stuck with them in the X-files version of the Witness Protection Program. It didn't matter that the change wouldn't be for some years yet, it still felt imminent, all-consuming.
"I can't tell you yes or no right now," Anthony said with a frown. "It's too much right now. I need time."
"Our lease is up in a month," Mark said. "Ideally, we need an answer by then so we know -"
"I know. But then, you wanted to wait until the right time and if you hadn't revealed yourself today, I would have even less time than this," Anthony snapped. Then he got annoyed with himself for lashing out - he knew this wasn't easy for Mark, either. He sighed. "I'm sorry."
"I understand," Mark said, and Sören nodded.
Anthony rubbed his face like an aggravated wet cat and tried to think. In a week, he would be flying to London to see his bubbe for her birthday, spending a few days in the UK, then coming back. As if Sören could read his mind, Sören asked, "You still want us to watch Maimonides and the kitties while you're away?"
"Yes. They like you, and..." Anthony wanted to say I trust you, but he found that odd to say after Mark had shown he hadn't been one hundred percent honest the last couple of months, even as Mark had not outright lied. And yet... once again, Anthony's heart knew what it wanted. But he needed to let a cooler head prevail, for the moment. "So, I think I should have an answer for you when I get back from the UK."
"OK." Mark and Sören both nodded.
Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose, dreading what he was about to say next even though he knew it was necessary to ensure he was rational about the decision and not deciding with his emotions or libido. "I'm going to need space between now and then, except for the necessary arrangements with the critters."
"That means..." Sören gave him a concerned look.
"That means you're going back to your place tonight. No mid-week visit, no Shabbos together before I fly out on Sunday. I don't want to be cold and shut you out, but I need to be in the right frame of mind to think about things and not be influenced..." He couldn't finish the sentence, but he knew what he wanted to say: because I love you.
Sören blinked back tears - even the absence of a few days was going to hurt him, and Anthony was hurting too, already missing them, but he was afraid of hurting them all more if he made the wrong decision in the heat of passion.
That night he lay in bed alone, save the presence of Maimonides, Solly and Shmuel, who seemed to know he was lonely and sad. It was a self-inflicted wound, of course, but one that had to be done.
He didn't know what else to do. His entire world had shattered, and the weight of the splintered pieces was on his shoulders.
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