Anthony wakes up to Sören snuggled against his chest, and even though his bladder is nagging at him to do his morning business he lingers, not wanting to let go of Sören, savoring every moment of the feel of Sören in his arms. He admires the beauty of him in the morning light, curls tousled, long lashes framing his cheeks, full lips slightly parted, looking serene in sleep.
He's tempted to wake Sören up with a kiss on those lush lips, but he holds back. Last night he just held Sören, nothing happened. A friend in need. Anthony's shoulders heave with a deep sigh. As good as it feels to curl up with him like this - so cozy - it also hurts, wanting what he can't have.
He also tries not to feel victorious. He never liked Jayde anyway, and he's been quietly simmering for months wondering what Sören sees in Jayde and not in him. He feels terrible that Sören got his heart broken in such a disgusting way, but it was satisfying to punch Jayde and even more satisfying to know Jayde is probably out of Sören's life and he never has to hear that whiny annoying voice again.
Now he feels compelled to do something nice for Sören. He knows it won't undo the pain of last night, but he wants to give Sören whatever reassurance he needs that he's man enough.
Anthony decides he's going to start by making Sören something nice to eat - both as a treat and to demonstrate he doesn't think cooking and baking isn't "manly". Anthony loves cake, and while the idea of baking Sören a Congrats on being rid of that loser cake amuses him, he thinks maybe he should make something more appropriate for breakfast. He lays there continuing to relish the close, peaceful time with cuddling Sören, looking at him, until Seamus hops on the bed with a "Prrp?" and begins headbutting Anthony hard in the face, chirping, which Anthony takes as Seamus saying "You're up! Yay! Feed me!"
Sören blinks his eyes open, smiles at the cat, then smiles up at Anthony as he skritches Seamus.
"Hey," Anthony says, his voice raspy from sleep.
"Hæ." Sören blinks and yawns. "Hvað er klukkan?"
Anthony grins - he loves it when Sören lapses into Icelandic, musical in his deep, soft, smoky voice. Even though he doesn't speak Icelandic himself other than a few words - mostly swears that he learned from Sören - he knows what Sören is asking. "A little after eight."
"Ó allt í lagi. Fokk þessi skítur."
Anthony laughs as he watches Sören close his eyes and bury his face in the pillow; Sören is so very much not a morning person, and usually sleeps as late as he can get away with on the weekends. Anthony tousles Sören's hair before he gets up, yawns and stretches, and Seamus leads the way to the kitchen, tail high in the air, every few paces looking behind himself to chirp insistently at Anthony. By the time Anthony is in the kitchen, Seamus is meowing and circling his food bowl - which still has a little food in it from last night.
"You're not starving, you know," Anthony says like the cat can understand him.
Seamus meows louder.
Anthony chuckles, dumps out the old food, washes the bowl, then opens up a can of cat food while Seamus circles his ankles, chirping excitedly. Anthony almost trips over Seamus as he brings the bowl of food over, and the minute he sets it down, Seamus sniffs it then walks away.
Anthony facepalms, laughing harder. "Fuck you," he says to the cat, not unkindly.
"Frrf."
Anthony does his morning bathroom business, washes his hands, comes back to the kitchen and looks in the cupboards, and decides to compromise on his idea of something more breakfasty than cake, since he wants to let Sören sleep a little while longer - he needs his rest after crying so hard last night. A full English breakfast is too quick unless he starts it later, and Anthony wants to get to work now and burn off some of this nervous energy. He sees a box of banana bread mix, which is perfect. It'll take long enough to let Sören rest awhile, and is a cake-like breakfast food.
As the banana bread is in the oven, already making the apartment smell heavenly, and Seamus finally concedes to scarf down the food he begged for, Anthony does his usual morning routine of coffee and checking his e-mail and the news, then the weather. It's going to be overcast today with rain this evening and all through the week. It's mid-October, peak fall foliage season in New England, and Anthony thinks it might be nice to take Sören for a walk under the trees before the rain comes.
He leans back and thinks to himself that it's too bad the Boston Swan Boats only run from April to early September - they took a couple rides together over the summer, and it would be nice to take a ride on a swan boat to see the autumn trees. He'd like to go see the mute swans at Niles Pond in Gloucester but that's about an hour one way if traffic is reasonable and he doesn't know if Sören is going to be up for a long car ride, or if the forecast of "evening rain" actually means "afternoon rain" and by the time they get there it's a washout.
You're acting like this is a date, Anthony scolds himself. It's just another Saturday afternoon, except you're trying to cheer him up.
Then a frisson goes down Anthony's spine and his hair stands on end, arms gooseflesh and tingling, his heart beating faster as he realizes it's like he's trying to prepare for telling Sören how he feels.
Anthony knows it perhaps isn't the best timing - he doesn't want Sören to think he's offering a pity fuck, or taking advantage of him while he's vulnerable. And they've been friends for years and Sören's never given any indicator that he was interested - despite his confession that he prefers older men, last night - so Anthony knows there's a strong likelihood Sören might be the one doing the rejecting this time.
And yet, part of him is fiercely hoping beyond hope. He gets the mental image of a dog with a bone refusing to let go, and he knows fighting his emotions with logic doesn't always work. So just like he got his impulse for cake under control with making banana bread, he tells himself, I'll play it by ear. If he thinks there's a window of opportunity - a ray of light in the dark clouds of his doubt about Sören's affection - then he'll take it.
But he does, truly, want to try to distract Sören today, having seen Sören fall down depressive spirals before. That little twink shit Jayde isn't worth Sören's pain.
When the banana bread is ready, Anthony cuts a few slices, adds pats of butter, and opens a bottle of champagne that they were saving for New Year's Eve but he can always buy another to replace it. He makes mimosas with the champagne and orange juice, then brings a tray into Sören's bedroom. Sören makes a noise and sits up a little, then his face lights up when he sees what Anthony's got. Anthony can't help smiling back, his stomach all butterflies at Sören's happiness.
"Banana bread," Sören says.
"Fresh from the oven," Anthony says, nodding. He smirks, not able to resist a bit of snark. "Because I'm not too manly to bake. As if I need sodding man lessons from a little twink bitch who's almost bloody young enough to be my kid -"
Sören snorts. After Anthony puts down the tray, Sören gives him a quick hug. "Well, thanks, Dad."
Anthony's cheeks burn. He realizes that Sören and Jayde are the same age. Then he thinks about his go-to fantasy, the one where Sören is calling him Daddy as they're rubbing together, fucking. His cunt twinges and his cheeks flush hotter. "Here." He hands Sören his mimosa in a glass, and raises his own. "Fuck Jayde."
"Fuck Jayde," Sören says, and clinks his glass against Anthony's.
The banana bread was worth waiting for, and Anthony loves watching Sören enjoy it. "This is so good," Sören says with his mouth full, then after he's done chewing the bite he says, "Thank you so much for making it. Both in and of itself and... what you said about it not making you less of a man. I needed to hear it."
Anthony pats him. "I know. I hope, though, that you won't take his bullshit too much to heart. Someone who lies about his entire damn life like that has no business lecturing other people on how they live theirs. It seems like he's ashamed of who he is, full stop, with all that lying, and it's easy for him to take a shot at you when you're unapologetically yourself and living more freely than he ever will."
Sören gets visibly choked up at that, his eyes too bright, but instead of crying he reaches over to Anthony's plate, tears off a piece of banana bread and shoves it in Anthony's mouth. "You talk too much," Sören teases.
Anthony teases right back. After he eats the bit of banana bread he nibbles at Sören's fingers and thumb. "NOM NOM NOM," Anthony says as Sören giggles. Then Anthony notices crumbs on Sören's index finger and, feeling cheeky, he sucks on it.
His face burns again as he realizes this can be construed as flirting - and he totally is - and his mind races with fantasies of he and Sören sensually sucking each other's fingers, kissing, licking and sucking each other's hard, throbbing clits. He worries that Sören is going to find the moment of finger-sucking creepy and perverted, but Sören's cheeks turn pink too and he smirks...
...and Anthony wonders if he's been reading things wrong for the last six years and if he might possibly maybe have a tiny chance.
Anthony keeps that thought to himself, cautioning himself once more to Play it by ear, as he lets Sören have his finger back. He and Sören finish their pieces of banana bread - there's half a loaf for later - and lean on each other as they finish their mimosas.
"You want to go look at fall leaves today?" Anthony asks. He racks his brain of where they could go locally, and then he says, "Like at the Esplanade?"
"Sure!"
"Good. Life's too short for you to stay in bed crying over Twink He-Man."
Sören gigglesnorts. "Wow, I didn't realize you hate him that much."
"I've hated him all along." Bitterly, Anthony seethes to himself, I was jealous of a stupid twink lying about his entire life to sound cool. Anthony looks out the window at the grey clouds, and hope Jayde gets caught outside when the downpour comes.
Anthony and Sören take a leisurely stroll along the river, reflecting the blaze of yellow, orange and red trees. The sky is silver and it's a little foggy, so the Esplanade is less crowded than usual on a Saturday. After awhile they sit on one of the floating docks, leaning on each other, looking out at the water and the fiery trees.
"This is peaceful," Sören says.
Anthony pats him. "I figured you needed this."
Sören takes his hand and Anthony feels like his entire arm is made of fire and lightning, a thrill through his entire body. While he knows it's a friendly gesture - they've done this before - something about it still feels different this time.
They spend a few hours there between walking and sitting on the dock, and decide to head back when they both need to use the bathroom. It starts raining just before they get off the Red Line. Though Anthony opens the umbrella he brought with him, every few paces Sören stops to jump in a puddle like a big kid. There's an especially big puddle on the curb at the last crosswalk before their apartment complex, and when Sören jumps in it, there's a mighty splash just as a car drives past and splashes Sören some more, making Sören wince. Anthony can't help laughing at Sören's hair plastered to him and the drenched clothing - he finds it oddly adorable - but then he feels bad and puts an arm around Sören to guide him back under the umbrella.
Once they're back in the apartment, Sören peels off his soaked hoodie and kicks off his boots. "I need to take a shower to get the dirty rainwater out of my hair," he says, rolling his r's more than usual.
"OK," Anthony says, trying to not go gooey at Sören's accent. "Want me to order a pizza? Our usual, the deluxe?"
"Jæja, that sounds good."
It's a necessary distraction from thinking about Sören naked in the shower. And an all-too-brief distraction. By the time the shower shuts off in the bathroom, Sören's clothes aren't the only thing that's soaking wet and Anthony fights the urge to grind himself to climax.
He needs to distract himself again. While Sören is in his bedroom across the hall getting dried off and changed, Anthony sets to work turning his bed into a blanket fort - already easy to do since he has a deep blue gauzy canopy curtain around his bed. He puts on the string of fairy lights at his headboard and turns on his lava lamps for ambiance. When Sören comes in, he laughs with delight at Anthony's fortress.
"Here, welcome to my No Truscum Allowed Club," Anthony says, ushering Sören past the curtain.
Sören is just in time for the pizza to arrive - Anthony lets Sören pick out what to watch as he handles the delivery. He got cheesy breadsticks to go with it and there's a bottle of Coke. Not the healthiest thing in the world but they're allowed to indulge after yesterday's ordeal.
Sören hasn't just picked out something to watch, but he got out a bag of THC gummies that they share for getting stoned together on the weekends. Anthony laughs as he brings in the food and Sören starts up The Lion King.
Once they're done eating, with leftovers for tomorrow, they lean on each other, and after awhile Sören curls up on him like a cat. Anthony starts skritching Sören's scalp and beard like he's a cat, which makes Sören smile and knead on him, purring. Anthony smiles too.
Then, stomach full of butterflies once more, Anthony decides to test the waters. "I liked holding you, last night," he says softly.
Sören looks up at him. "Yeah, that was nice. You're a good cuddlebuddy."
Anthony smiles - though he feels slightly disappointed at Sören framing it as "buddy" - but he doesn't retreat just yet. He can tell the weed is starting to kick in and it's giving him a little bit of courage. He stops skritching Sören's scalp and starts rubbing his back.
Sören flexes his fingers and toes. "Mmmmm."
"You like that?"
Sören nods.
Anthony takes a deep breath. "Would you like a massage? I know yesterday was very tense for you and -"
"Oh, that would be lovely. I always keep thinking I should go in for one to treat myself but I, yanno." Sören gestures to his chest, where he has top surgery scars under his shirt. "I get self-conscious -"
"I understand. And yes, you deserve to be spoilt. Do you, um... you want me to put some vanilla in oil and make it scenty?" Anthony can't believe he's offering to give Sören an oil massage, worried once again that Sören is going to think he's a pervert.
But Sören just smiles. "Yes! I love good smells." Sören really does - Anthony remembers times when he's taken Sören to the Yankee Candle shop and Sören has to smell every single scent the company makes. Sören also does this in Bath and Body Works with the samplers of their scented products.
Anthony gets up - reluctantly, because cuddling with Sören feels wonderful - and he goes to the kitchen to put some olive oil and vanilla extract in a bowl, then warms it up in the microwave. When he comes back in the bedroom, Sören is in his grey boxer-briefs, looking like dessert. "You should probably get out of those clothes, so you don't get oil on them," Sören says.
Anthony swallows hard, heart beating faster. He strips down to his steel blue boxers, and to his glee, Sören wolf-whistles. Anthony laughs - now his stomach is doing flip-flops, and he's horny, looking at Sören almost-naked, stretched out on the bed.
Sören turns off the movie and puts on one of the all-music channels that come with their cable and Internet subscription - Anthony smiles at Sade. Sören lays on his stomach and Anthony takes a deep breath. He pours warm oil over Sören's back, then straddles Sören's hips and gets to work, kneading, rolling. He admires the ink on Sören's back and arms, and his entire body thrills to touching Sören, hearing Sören's breath hitch and those little sighs as he rubs away the tension and knots.
"You have good hands," Sören purrs.
Anthony wants to show him how good his hands can be - and his tongue - but he keeps that thought to himself and presses down more firmly, working his hands in circles.
Sören lets out a shuddery little gasp. "Fuckkkkkkk. I feel like I should be paying you..."
Anthony chuckles. He kneads at Sören's shoulders, then his upper arms. The way Sören moans is encouraging, and Anthony feels a little bolder as the buzz continues melting away his anxiety. "Um... do you want me to massage your legs and stuff too? You're probably carrying tension all over -"
"Yes, please."
Anthony rubs Sören's back some more, then he scoots down and starts squeezing and rolling the backs of Sören's thighs. Sören grunts, louder when Anthony kneads a calf. "Good?"
"Yesssssssssssssssssssss."
Anthony's palms press in and rub side to side, up and down, in circles, on Sören's other calf. "If you turn over I can get the front of you too."
Sören grabs pillows, then lays back, propped up. Sören's pierced nipples are hard, and Anthony sees a wet spot at the crotch of Sören's boxer-briefs... and a little bump. His clit is hard. Anthony's own cunt twinges, a shiver down his spine. He feigns nonchalance as he pours oil over Sören's chest and stomach, and his oiled hands rub the front of Sören's shoulders and arms.
As he massages Sören's pecs, he can feel Sören's hard nipples at his palms and he almost comes untouched. He realizes he's straddling Sören and their cunts are almost touching. He's wet too, and he can't help but look down and see the wet spot on Sören's boxer-briefs is bigger now.
Their eyes meet and Sören's lips part slightly - he's breathing harder, and so is Anthony. Anthony's heart is pounding, waiting for the right instant to say or do something. The moment of rubbing Sören's stomach, making him moan again, drives Anthony mad with lust. He can't stop looking at Sören's treasure trail, and when he accidentally pushes the waistband of Sören's boxer-briefs down, he catches a glimpse of the top of Sören's wild, curly dark pubic bush. Oh, fuck. Anthony's hands are shaking now, wanting him so badly it hurts.
Anthony scoots down, kneading Sören's right thigh. He clears his throat, and tells himself It's time. "You know, I hope you won't mind me saying this, but... you're really gorgeous." He stares at Sören's wet spot, and the bump in his boxer-briefs looks slightly bigger. "Jayde was an idiot."
Sören's cheeks turn pink and his eyes sparkle. He bites his lower lip then gives a shy, sweet smile that takes Anthony's breath away. "Takk." Sören's shoulders heave with a deep sigh. "You're so fucking hot."
Anthony's heart skips a beat, and his face burns. He grins, elated, but then he feels that prickle of caution after six years of friendship. "Awww, thanks. You don't have to say that to be nice, though -"
"No, I mean it." Sören bites his lip again, then he exhales. "OK, Anthony, I..." Sören clears his throat. "Look, I don't want to fuck up our friendship, but it's time I come clean. I've been in love with you for six fucking years. I liked Jayde, but he was a substitute for what I really want -"
Not thinking, just feeling, Anthony leans down and kisses Sören hard. They both moan into the kiss as their tongues play together. Anthony's head spins and he feels like his heart could rip out of its chest and fly into space. Tears sting his eyes, relieved and touched. "I love you too," Anthony says, his voice shaking. "I haven't wanted to say anything either, for the same reason, but I've been in love with you for so long -"
Sören kisses him back and throws his arms around him. They kiss deeply, hungrily. When they pull apart to catch their breath, they laugh together. "God, we're idiots," Sören says.
"We should have done this sooner." Anthony touches Sören's face.
"We'll make up for lost time."
They kiss again, and again, then they kiss open-mouthed, tongues licking together with the promise of what they can do with those tongues. Then Anthony claims Sören's mouth again, kissing him passionately, and they start grinding against each other - Anthony almost comes at the feel of Sören's mound on his through their underwear. He kisses and licks Sören's neck and shoulder. "I really want to make love to you," Anthony husks, thumb teasing a pierced nipple.
"I want you to fuck me," Sören rasps. "Need you..."
They kiss again and Anthony feels Sören tugging at his own boxer-briefs - Anthony reaches down to help Sören pull them off. Before Anthony can take off his boxers, Sören pushes him back, licks down Anthony's hairy chest and stomach to the treasure trail, and then with a growl Sören takes the waistband of Anthony's boxers in his mouth and starts yanking them down with his teeth. Anthony moans, electrified by Sören's animalistic passion. When his boxers are halfway down his thighs, Anthony takes them down the rest of the way and flings them onto the floor, landing next to Sören's underwear.
They're both naked now, and Sören lays back, spreading for him so Anthony can see how wet he is - thick cream is pooling from Sören's cunt, dripping down to his ass, his thighs slick. Sören looks like a Viking warrior with his long hair and beard and piercings and ink and even his cunt looks manly, with thick, meaty lips and good bottom growth on T. Anthony's guessing Sören is about an inch and a half, jutting out at him like a little cock.
Anthony licks his lips and moans appreciatively. "Fuck. God, you're fucking delicious."
Sören reaches out and his thumb rubs Anthony's own hard clit - Anthony twitches in response, almost coming. "Your dick is huge," Sören says; Anthony is about two inches and he's not pumped, which gets him even bigger. Sören collects some of Anthony's dripping cream on his thumb and licks it off, making Anthony groan, then Sören runs his hands over the dark pelt on Anthony's chest and arms and thighs and Anthony shudders at his teasing touch. "You are so handsome and masculine. I love it."
Anthony grins again and fights the reflexive urge to preen - his urge to mate is even stronger. Anthony climbs on top of Sören and maneuvers his thighs between Sören's thighs so when he sinks down into Sören's waiting arms, their bare cunts press together. They look into each other's eyes and both let out a little gasp of delight as their clits touch for the first time. Then Anthony kisses Sören sweetly, tenderly, as they take each other's hands and squeeze.
"I love you," Anthony says softly.
"Ég elska þig, ástin mín."
In Sören's native language - the language of his heart - they're the most beautiful words Anthony has ever heard. Anthony smiles at the warm chocolate of Sören's eyes and tenderly strokes his cheek, his hair, brings Sören's hand to his lips and kisses it.
Then Anthony moves closer and they kiss again and Anthony starts to rub against him, slowly, savoring the feel of Sören's hard clit sliding against his, their pussy lips kissing, soft and wet. Wanting this moment to last forever.
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