August 20th, 2017
Corvallis, Oregon
After two months in Sausalito, California, Sören Sigurðsson was finally home in Oregon. It had been an agonizing two months for Nicolae Dooku, as close to Sören as he was. Though he had plenty to fill his time with - books, gardening, walking, hiking, motorcycle riding, fencing classes, the gym, his Krav Maga class - the sixty-eight-year-old professor missed the company of his thirty-two-year-old best friend dearly.
And the wait was difficult not just missing Sören in and of itself, but it had brought his feelings for Sören to a head once again.
Dooku had fallen for Sören rather quickly after their friendship started, but Dooku had decided against telling Sören of his feelings back in January, when he'd planned on disclosing them over dinner and before he could, Sören opened up about how his ex-boyfriend Seth raped him, more than once. As much as Dooku was aching for Sören and would have liked to show the younger man what lovemaking could be like with someone who cared about him, Dooku felt Sören was too freshly away from Seth to make pursuing him a good idea. Sören's safety and well-being came first, and the very last thing Sören needed was to feel unsafe, made uncomfortable by a man old enough to be his father expressing sexual interest, especially if Sören thought the only reason why he was being kind was in the hopes of seducing him... which wasn't the case at all. Even if all they ever were to each other was friends, well... Dooku's life was brighter for Sören's presence in it. And so it was that Dooku had kept his desire to himself, ever the gentleman, even cautious about casually touching Sören, not wanting him to feel alarmed if and when his body responded.
He had also tried to talk himself out of the interest, more than once. In 2017 Dooku was far less concerned about having a male partner and being outed than he had been twenty years ago, when he'd chosen a solitary life with the threat of AIDS out there and hostility towards gay men, not wanting to risk his career and the purpose it gave him. So it was not having a gay relationship with Sören that bothered him, so much as the societal disapproval of their age difference, and Dooku's own reservation that he wasn't being fair to Sören when he could at best give another twenty years, and as much as he took care of himself and did not in fact suffer from erectile dysfunction - thinking of Sören got him hard quite frequently - he had no idea how many of those twenty years would be good ones health-wise. He knew Sören struggled with mental health issues and the thought of Sören suffering as Sören watched him succumb to the frailty of old age was something that weighed heavily on his conscience.
And of course, if feelings could be chased away with logic, they'd already be gone. The longer time passed, the more his feelings heated, not cooled. By the time Sören went to California on vacation, Dooku was tempted to ask Sören not to go, would have spared no expense to whisk Sören away to someplace like Hawaii or the wine country of France to make love to him in paradise. As August arrived and Dooku knew Sören would be getting back soon, he knew he had to do something about those feelings.
He decided that Sören's return would be the perfect opportunity to finally say something. First, he'd had plans to pick Sören up at the Amtrak station, as originally discussed, greeting him with flowers, taking him out to dinner and then, if Sören was not too exhausted, giving him a massage to soothe him after a long train ride, re-introducing him to sex after Seth by focusing on his pleasure that night. When he found out Sören had roomed with one of their colleagues and it was Professor Mark Lauer who would be driving Sören back to Oregon, those plans necessarily had to change.
Indeed, they were subject to change at the last minute. Dooku woke up that Sunday morning sweating, and it wasn't even as hot as it would get later that day. He'd wanted to look good for Sören, in a suit and tie, but it was going to be too bloody warm for that. He wanted to bring Sören flowers, or at least a single long-stemmed rose, but he realized that would be overkill if they were going to go to the Rose Garden in Portland, which Sören would probably be keen on seeing while they had some of summer left.
So he'd called Sören - he felt a bit guilty waking the man up, knowing Sören was not a morning person, and appreciated that Sören cared enough to not be so grumpy he bit his head off. He already had reservations for them at Salty's on the Columbia, an upmarket surf-and-turf restaurant in Portland where he'd treated Sören before, and now they would go to the International Rose Test Garden afterwards, followed by the Tom McCall Waterfront Park on the Willamette River.
Dooku's heart skipped a beat, his stomach fluttering, when Sören walked into his house. And the entire drive down, he had to fight off the urge to just pull over, tell Sören "I love you, darling," and kiss him.
But first, they needed to clear the air about something else. Once again, Sören was doing laundry at his house. His excuse for months was that his washing machine was broken. Dooku knew perfectly damn well that it wasn't.
"Sören, forgive me for asking this, but..."
"Hm?"
Dooku raised an eyebrow. "Your washing machine isn't really broken, is it?"
Sören sighed. "It's not broken, Nico." Sören looked down and folded his hands. "I'm sorry for lying to you. I didn't want to tell you the truth, which is... I have panic attacks down there because of, ah. Stuff Seth did." Sören swallowed hard. "It's bad enough I can't drive still, but -"
"I understand," Dooku said, and reached over to put his hand on Sören's hands for a moment. Just that little touch sent fire through him. Sören moved one of his hands to squeeze Dooku's, fueling the fire. "I... rather suspected for months, I didn't think your landlord would be so lax about getting it fixed or replaced. But I didn't want to bring it up and shame you -"
"No, Nico, honestly... I should have said something before now. Thank you for not being angry with me."
"I'm not. What you went through was horrible." Dooku glanced at him again. "And I don't expect you to be able to go down in your basement anytime soon, if at all, the same way I don't expect you to be able to drive. I just don't want you to feel ashamed of yourself, like that's something you can help. You know I accept you."
"I do. It just frustrates me when I can't do things. I hate feeling so fucking powerless." Sören sighed.
"Did the vacation help, though?"
Sören nodded. "I'm not 'all better' now, it didn't fix everything, but it did help a bit, yes. You ought to go on vacation sometime."
Dooku nodded. "I'm considering going to Avebury for the summer solstice next year. I haven't been back to Britain in a good while."
"Oh, that sounds lovely. That's standing stones, right?"
"Yes. Not quite as well-known or popular as Stonehenge but the trade-off is it isn't as crowded or..." Dooku paused, searching for the right word. "Bothered, either."
Dooku almost added then, I'd like you to come with me. The thought of them together in such an ancient, liminal place on the summer solstice, making sweaty, feverish love to each other all night on the longest night of the year, bringing Sören to climax after climax, wanting to give him more orgasms than he'd ever dreamed possible... Seth could not take your fire away, my love. You burn brighter than the sun. Dooku swallowed hard and quickly chased that thought out of his mind, not wanting to be obviously hard in front of Sören when they still had most of an hour's drive ahead of them.
_
The timing had to be just right. While the view of the Columbia River harbor from the restaurant was spectacular, Dooku wasn't entirely comfortable confessing he'd been in love with Sören for months, with so many people around.
The International Rose Test Garden was a much more ideal setting. It also seemed rather cliched, to proclaim his undying love surrounded by roses. But cliche or not, it was still romantic, and Dooku was a secret romantic at heart. Dooku had never seen Seth actually romance Sören. His Sören deserved to be spoiled, deserved poetry, song, gifts, sensual pleasure. He wanted Sören to feel swept away, to know after so much hurt in his life that he was loved, wanted, cherished.
And yet, for all of his lofty and somewhat old-fashioned ideals of wanting to court the younger man, the reality was that the beauty of Sören enjoying the beauty of the roses left him tongue-tied, barely able to string two thoughts together. Seeing Sören lean down to inhale the perfume of a blossom with a look on his face like he was having a religious experience took his breath away, brought tears to his eyes. It was so good to see him that happy, after seeing Sören through some scary dark moments earlier that year when he was beginning the arduous process of unpacking the damage Seth had done.
Indeed, their first visit together to the International Rose Test Garden had been after one such day in March where Sören had remarked, "Seth should have just killed me," and Dooku wanted him to see he deserved life, he deserved better things. He deserved to trade beauty for ashes. Earlier, in January, Sören had vowed to keep fighting, keep living, to "not let the bastards win" - Dooku loved that fighting spirit in him - but he knew that fight was easier said than done. It was not a linear uphill battle. Sören had many, many stumbles, moments of self-loathing and anguish. Dooku had been there for him any time of day or night, as best as he could be.
And now... the vacation had been a balm for his soul, it seemed. Sören had been doing a little better, when he left for California, now he was continuing to do better. Dooku knew he still had healing to do. But what had already been done, was gorgeous to watch.
More than ever before, Dooku loved Sören, watching his joy in the roses, such a simple thing. Repaying the gift of something blossoming so fully alive with his own blossoming, his own life. More than any other moment previously, he wanted to blurt out, "I love you." And he balked. It wasn't cold feet, it was cold everything, freezing up, feeling like he couldn't breathe as he tried to make the words.
Those words felt so inadequate. What he felt was deeper than love, sharper, more dangerous, as if Sören's soul had stabbed into his and was embedded there now, a sword in stone, revealing the soft heart of the earth.
So for the entirety of their walk among the roses, Dooku kept his feelings to himself. Getting more and more exasperated with himself. Just. SAY. IT. It was only three words. Or, "I'm in love with you" was five, if Sören needed clarification about what kind of love it was.
It was at the Waterfront Park on the Willamette, where Dooku was starting to find his nerve. They walked for awhile, and when they took a seat on the bench, Sören pulled his tablet out of his satchel. He'd e-mailed and texted Dooku quite a few photos over the summer but now Dooku got to see hundreds, and he could see how good the time in the Bay Area had been for him. So many lovely places to see, nature and beautiful architecture revitalizing him.
"My word, you were busy," Dooku said.
"There was a lot to see, and do. Mark was really nice about driving me around anywhere I wanted to go."
A little warning bell went off in Dooku's head. There was a certain look Sören got on his face when he said Mark's name. The two men had shared close quarters for two months. Sören had mentioned Mark had cooked for him. And Mark Lauer had driven him back to Oregon which, unless he was willing to drive non-stop for ten or eleven hours, meant an overnight stop somewhere. And after having just seen each other, Sören had mentioned earlier they were getting together again this evening.
Dooku fished, his heart sinking. "It sounds like the two of you really hit it off, between that and you having plans with him later. It's good you've made a friend."
Sören took a deep breath. "Mark and I became a bit more than friends while we were there."
Dooku looked down. He hated being right at times like this. "I see."
"It just... kind of happened." Sören gave a happy little sigh. "I didn't go there really expecting to find anyone, or anything, I just wanted some peace, wanted to do something good for myself for a change. And... well... we fell hard for each other. And he knows about my issues, we talked a lot, and he was really patient - to a fault, even, I had no idea he was into me till he spelled it out. He's been an absolute prince, not like Seth at all."
Dooku tried to keep as calm as possible. He felt like crying. And of course, he wanted Sören's happiness. He was perhaps being unrealistic to think Sören would say yes to him even if he wasn't with Mark - he was much older, whereas Mark was only a little older than Sören, in his early forties if Dooku recalled correctly. Dooku made himself focus on the lovely photos in Sören's gallery, trying desperately to distract himself from the crushing weight of disappointment. And he still felt like he'd been hit with an anvil.
Finally he made himself look at the man he loved. Still loved, wanting to just switch his feelings off, and he couldn't. "Does he make you happy, Sören?" Dooku asked quietly.
"Very much so."
"Then I am happy for you." Dooku gave a small smile, patting Sören's arm. Holding back the tears.
"Hi Happy For You, I'm -"
"Sören." Dooku glared.
_
Sören still had laundry to finish. The last ninety minutes of their day together, as they played chess while Sören's clothes were in the dryer, were some of the most painful moments of Dooku's life. He both desperately wanted to be left alone, and desperately did not want Sören to go and leave him alone in this house, leave him alone with this grief.
When he was, at last, alone, he sat on his couch with his head in his hands. He found himself rocking back and forth, as he was prone to do when upset. He fought the tears, but they came, spilling silently. And then not so silently, with Dooku curled up in the fetal position on his couch, crying into the couch pillows.
He still loved Sören. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to hate Mark, curse them. But he wanted Sören to be happy, even if that meant with someone other than him. Someone who was not an old man, in the sunset of his life. And he still wanted Sören's friendship. As much as it would hurt to keep seeing him, spending time with him, he needed that. And Sören needed friends. From what Sören had once told him, Seth had socially isolated Sören, not even wanting Sören to talk to his own blood family. Sören needed someone to look out for him, still, vulnerable as he was, and he would do that. He had sworn it, back in January.
But oh, how it hurt. He felt like he was being ripped apart inside. He'd had a glass of wine at the restaurant - just one, since he was driving, but he'd had hopes it would mellow him out enough to say something. Which of course it hadn't. Now he did something he never, ever did. Usually a second or even a third glass of wine later in the evening was fine. He was of a European family, after all, wine was like water to them. He was drinking the entire fucking bottle now. From the bottle.
This is the lowest moment of my life.
By evening, he was shit-faced. And ready to call it an early night. But under the sheets, before he could sleep off the alcohol, he felt needy, insecure... craving a reassurance that they could be friends.
He started off all formality, as best as he could when he was this drunk. Thank you for accompanying me earlier. You're always such good company, I really missed you.
Sören texted him back with a heart emoji and a smiley emoji. I missed you too, a lot.
And then Sören sent two photos. He was with what looked like a Corgi-sheepdog mix puppy - presumably Mark's, not his own. In one photo the dog was licking his face, and in the other Sören was just snuggling the dog. In both photos Sören was shirtless, and showing enough that Dooku could see the tattoos on his shoulders going down his arms, and... his chest. Those delectable pierced nipples that had so aroused him when he'd helped Sören get dressed and undressed following his car accident in December. He'd had countless fantasies about those nipples, licking, suckling, driving Sören mad with pleasure... he'd brought himself off just to those nipples, never mind thinking about doing anything else to Sören. Though he did, indeed, want to do other things to him.
Sören looked delicious shirtless, his mop of curls disheveled, lips kiss-swollen, nipples hard as if Mark had been pleasing them... and that grin on his lovely face, his smile so radiant. That smile was erotic to Dooku as well, a certain naughty innocence, innocent naughtiness to him that Dooku found arousing.
Dooku was starting to get hard. He was surprised he could get aroused, this drunk.
His inhibitions were also dangerously low. Those beautiful pictures of Sören... Dooku found himself texting I love you
and as he hit Send, his heart almost stopped.
"Oh, shit." Of course, he was stupid enough to say that now, when that cause was lost. He needed to think fast, or that friendship was going to fall apart in record time.
Through the haze of alcohol, he found his wits and added man. LOL.
"Yes, good save."
Continuing to feel self-conscious about it, he fired off another text message bloody enter key lol
Sören replied. Those mad typing skills are slipping, yo.
No, just my heart, Dooku thought bitterly. He replied with: I'm a little drunk right now.
Sören's response was predictable. Hi A Little Drunk Right Now
Somehow, the text conversation turned into horrible puns upon the word "bro", with Dooku drunk enough to be shameless to keep making awful puns, yet not so drunk that he wasn't painfully aware they were awful. Tomorrow, when he was hungover, he was also going to be sorely tempted to burn his phone and get a new one, with all of the "bro" nonsense like he was a millennial.
And then, mercifully, the puns stopped, and Dooku thought that was the end of that. A few minutes later, though, and his phone buzzed again. Another text from Sören.
This was a photo of the same puppy, but now he was snuggling with Mark Lauer. Here, have some more cuteness overload.
Dooku exhaled sharply. He'd seen Mark around on campus for the last seven years and he found Mark a very attractive man. Six-foot-nine, lean and muscular, black hair to the middle of his back, grey eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, impeccable features that belonged in a painting or on a statue. Mark could have been a supermodel, and instead he was teaching music theory... and he was a very talented musician, Dooku had seen him in concert several times. Dooku had, more than once, thought that if he were younger and closer to Mark's age, he would have perhaps asked Mark to dinner and seen where it went.
Mark and Sören were two physically beautiful men, and Dooku's mental image of them was quite aesthetically pleasing indeed. Now he was looking at Mark shirtless, who had the same disheveled, debauched look to him - Mark and Sören had obviously been making love before Dooku texted - and he thought about what the two would look like making love together.
As much as that thought ached... his cock ached as well. He found himself reaching down and stroking himself, his mind playing a vivid movie of Sören and Mark making love, enjoying each other's beauty, becoming all the more beautiful in the throes of passion. It hurt, thinking of them like this - and he felt a bit ashamed, like he was doing something voyeuristic, degenerate - and he couldn't stop himself. He wanted Sören, and from a purely carnal, physical standpoint, he lusted for Mark, too. If Mark had asked him if he wanted sex, it would be difficult for him to say no to that.
His fantasy of Sören and Mark making love to each other somehow now included him. The three of them together, taking turns kissing, running hands over each other... he and Mark suckling Sören's nipples at the same time, with Sören crying out at such lavish pleasure. He and Mark worshiping Sören's body together, kissing, licking, caressing. Licking Sören's cock together, taking turns sucking it. Then he and Sören loving Mark's body, his sculpted muscles, what was no doubt a large cock at his size. Sören and Mark loving him, kissing and touching him everywhere, sharing his cock like it was a lollipop or ice cream cone.
The three of them sucking each other in different positions, so they all got to taste each other. Three hard cocks rubbing together, cock coming on cock. Dooku taking Sören and watching Mark suck Sören's cock. Sören spit-roasted between the two of them, getting fucked by one, sucking the other. Sören taking him while Mark took Sören. Mark sucking one, getting fucked by the other. Sören laying on top of Mark, rubbing their cocks together, while Dooku thrust into Sören a few dozen strokes, then into Mark, then back to Sören, back and forth between them, coming in one and then the other when he was ready to shoot.
Deep male voices groaning, growling, grunting. Sören's higher-pitched cries as the sensitive, fey boy was pleasured and teased and used different ways by more powerful, dominant men. The slap of flesh, bodies writhing together, cocks plunging and gliding and spurting. Sweat, bodies glistening, the smell of men, reveling in being gloriously male. Coming and coming and coming, wanting more, wanting that buildup of excitement that was as good as the orgasm itself, needing hot, raw sex, never enough.
The historian in Dooku knew that before there were religious prohibitions on same-sex behavior in societies it was almost universal, and the animal in him knew it was because men craved men, women craved women. It was of course possible for a man to love a woman, and a woman to love a man, but there was nothing like the brotherhood between men turned to passion, nothing like men knowing each other's bodies and enjoying them. He would have been happy in ancient Rome, with Sören in the classic older man / younger man pairing - perhaps buying him away from ill treatment, a captive from one of the Germanic tribes of his distant ancestors - caring for him and protecting him, showing him how delicious man-on-man sex could be.
It was ironic, with Dooku still being a virgin, but since he'd discovered his attraction to Sören he'd also discovered he had an utterly filthy mind. And he'd been learning about things, in anticipation of pleasing Sören some day, wanting to be a good lover to him.
He'd been learning lots of things, which fueled his lust even hotter. He'd discretely ordered a few toys online, which he'd be playing with right now if he wasn't so damned drunk.
He gave into the filthiest fantasy of all, double penetrating Sören, his cock rubbing Mark's cock as they shared the hole of the man they both loved, with Sören begging for more, greedy for cock, hungry for sex. Dooku let out a cry as he came thinking about that, coming hard.
His face burned, ashamed of himself. It was bad enough to carry a torch for Sören who was taken, worse to now start lusting for Sören's partner too. Things were already awkward, if Sören would remain friends, if Sören was going to make good on his promise to keep seeing him, even invite him along to occasional things with Mark. He didn't need to be drooling over them the entire time, bringing himself off like a horny teenager once he got home. He felt like a creepy, dirty old man.
He cried again. He started looking at that one photo of Sören again, the sweet, radiant smile on his face as he cuddled with an adorable puppy, looking so innocent and so debauched all at once. He touched Sören's face on the screen. My Sören. My love.
He kissed the screen - he was definitely going to have to clean that when he was sober tomorrow - and set the phone down, crying some more.
Crying himself to sleep.