Though school was out for winter break, there were still a few events happening on campus for the holiday season. One was a staff holiday party, which neither Dooku nor Sören were up for attending this year. But there was one thing that Dooku was keen on attending - in November, before this fiasco started, he'd bought a ticket for a concert in December. Mark Lauer, the music theory professor, would be performing some songs on the harp, followed by an orchestra with a choir. Now that the date got closer, Dooku neither felt right about attending by himself and leaving Sören at home, nor did he want to cancel. After making a series of phone calls, he managed to acquire another ticket to take Sören.
Sören wasn't thrilled about getting dressed up, but he seemed less thrilled with the idea of disappointing Dooku, who'd gone to so much trouble to get a ticket for him. So on the night of the concert, Friday the sixteenth of December, after Sören showered, Dooku helped him put on a suit and tie, the one suit Sören owned.
As usual, the sight of Sören's bare chest, pierced nipples hard in the cool air, and buttoning up his shirt, touching him, had Dooku nearly breathless by the time Sören was all dressed, even though he'd tried very hard to control himself. Dooku himself was in a suit and tie, with a waistcoat. Sören played with the lapels of Dooku's suit once he was dressed. "You look very dapper," Sören told him. "You always do, but this seems more special than the suits you usually wear to school."
"You look distinguished yourself," Dooku said, though "distinguished" seemed like an odd way of phrasing it. Part of what he found attractive about Sören was precisely that Sören was a bit of rough, but he couldn't deny that Sören looked sharp in a suit, and there was something about the contrast of Sören's wild mane of curls and the neat, put-together suit that was appealing.
"I feel all... civilized and shit," Sören said.
Dooku's nostrils flared. Millennials. "Indeed. Let's go appreciate civilization, Sören."
Sören's black leather duster over his suit was even sexier to Dooku, for some reason, whose face was on fire as he put on his wool greatcoat, his gloves, and finally his fedora. He and Sören walked to the Jaguar, and drove in companionable silence out to the campus, with Sören watching the stars in the evening sky.
Sören and Dooku sat together in one of the middle rows. Dooku cringed as a family with small children came in to occupy the seats nearest them - not that he minded children usually, but it had been his experience time and again that things like concerts and theatre were not really places to bring small children.
Sören turned off his cell phone. At least there's that, Dooku thought to himself, and turned off his as well. They looked at each other and Dooku gave a small, tense, awkward smile - the proximity of Sören's body, and the mental images of him shirtless, were getting to him. Sören threw off a tremendous amount of body heat, and Dooku could feel himself sweating a little. Which made him think of getting hot and sweaty with Sören in a different context.
Stop that. He is young enough to be your son.
Arguing that with himself was increasingly not working.
Dooku felt another surge of libido when it was time for the concert to begin. Sören was one of the most beautiful specimens of male that Dooku had ever laid eyes on, and Professor Mark Lauer was another. He, too, was someone who cleaned up nicely, wearing a black Brooks Brothers suit with a black waistcoat, white shirt, dark red tie, and also had the appealing contrast of distinguished and wild, with the long waves of raven-dark hair cascading down the middle of his back. Mark's clean-shaven face was proudly chiseled, almost haughty, with startling light grey eyes and thick eyebrows that gave him an intense, brooding, sultry look, and the wire-rimmed glasses that he wore only seemed to enhance his attractiveness.
Mark became even more beautiful as he sat at his war harp and began to play, starting with Pachelbel's Canon in D. That was followed by "Largo" of the Winter Cycle of Vivaldi's Four Seasons. "Waltz of the Flowers" by Tchaikovsky was particularly superb. Then the classic "Silent Night". That was when Dooku noticed Sören was blinking back tears, the song stirring something in him. Dooku took Sören's hand, and quietly offered his handkerchief. "Takk," Sören whispered, taking it, dabbing at his eyes, trying very hard to contain himself.
"Silent Night" was followed by a harp cover of "Watermark" by Enya. Now Dooku got teared up as well, while Sören wasn't even pretending not to cry, and he and Sören shared the handkerchief.
That was Mark's last song. He got up and bowed. Dooku stood up to applaud - he was reserved about things like standing ovations normally, but Mark had done a masterful job, playing with feeling. Sören also stood to applaud.
The orchestra and choir that followed performed Handel's Messiah Part 1. It was enjoyable, though Mark's harp opening had been more impressive to Dooku. And the small children seated near them began to act up, as Dooku had feared they would. Still, all in all, the music was relaxing - what they needed.
"That was nice," Sören said on the way home.
"It was," Dooku said.
"You're nice for taking me." Sören patted him.
"I'm glad you appreciated it."
Sören smiled, and Dooku's breath caught.
They didn't go straight home - still in the festive spirit, Dooku hit a Starbucks drive-thru while it was open. Dooku didn't care for their coffee, but they both got hot chocolate, which was nice to have while he took them on a drive to see the Christmas lights displays in Corvallis. Some of the radio stations were playing Christmas music now, and Sören grinned and turned it up when "Santa Baby" by Eartha Kitt came on.
"God, I love Eartha Kitt," Sören said.
"Really." This surprised Dooku, with how young Sören was.
"Jæja, she made me question my sexual orientation and realize I'm a little bi." Sören gave a throaty chuckle. "My favorite song of hers, though, is 'My Heart Belongs To Daddy.'" Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip.
Dear god. Dooku's cock strained uncomfortably in his suit trousers.
Then "All I Want For Christmas Is You" by Mariah Carey came on and Sören turned up the radio even louder, belting out the song in his husky, smoky tenor, like a R&B singer.
I don't want a lot for Christmas
There is just one thing I need
I don't care about the presents
Underneath the Christmas tree
I just want you for my own
More than you could ever know
Make my wish come true
All I want for Christmas is you, yeah.
I don't want a lot for Christmas
There is just one thing I need
And I don't care about the presents
Underneath the Christmas tree
I don't need to hang my stocking
There upon the fireplace
Santa Claus won't make me happy
With a toy on Christmas Day
I just want you for my own
More than you could ever know
Make my wish come true
All I want for Christmas is you
You, baby
When the song was over Sören blushed, and ran a nervous hand through his curls. "Sorry," he said. "Got carried away."
"It's fine. You have a lovely voice." Dooku meant it. He was also strangely turned on - he realized that after seeing Sören become an automaton through the horror with Seth, a little life coming back to him was a pleasure.
When the tour of the lights was over and they pulled in Dooku's driveway, they lingered for a moment before getting out. "I had fun," Sören said.
"I enjoyed myself," Dooku said. He didn't want to say "I had fun too" because Dooku didn't do fun.
Their eyes met, and for an instant Dooku thought about asking Sören on an actual date, wanting to take him to another concert, or the theatre, or a ballet, perhaps. Even just to the movies to see whatever latest thing kids these days were into - Marvel or something or other - would be fine. He was getting used to having Sören around, and he was having a harder and harder time fighting his attraction.
But he didn't. Don't be ridiculous, Dooku chided himself. He not only just got out of an abusive relationship and doesn't need to think you 'white-knighted' simply to get down his trousers, but he'll think you're too old.
So he looked away, and got out of the car. And when it was time to help Sören out of that suit that he looked so delicious in, Dooku's hands trembled slightly as they undid the buttons of Sören's shirt, watching the cloth peel away and expose his bare skin. The sight of Sören's pierced nipples...
Dooku went to bed alone, as he always did, and though Beowulf purring away beside him usually helped him to sleep, there was too much heat and electricity coursing through his body. Not able to stop thinking of unbuttoning Sören's shirt... the hard pierced nipples... the word "Daddy" sounded in that breathy, smoky voice of his with that accent.
Dooku let go of the pillow he'd been holding and his hand slipped down beneath the covers. Here we go again, he thought to himself as he reached to soothe what ached.
_
Dooku's sleep was interrupted by a scream from the living room.
Dooku bolted out of bed, heart racing. All he could think of was that Seth had somehow evaded the tail on him - Dooku's private investigator had been calling with reports to confirm Seth was actually in Florida - and was back in Oregon and had broken in.
But it was just the ghost of Seth, with Sören sobbing on the edge of his bed.
"Bad dream?" Dooku asked. Sören nodded. "About him?" Sören nodded again.
Even though it was past two in the morning and Dooku was tired and wanted to go back to bed, Sören needed care. For a moment he considered inviting Sören into his bed, but he knew his body would respond to the proximity of Sören laying there, and the last thing he wanted was to make Sören feel threatened. Even just holding him, right now, felt like it would be dangerously close to crossing a line. But he did spend a moment rubbing Sören's non-injured shoulder, telling him, "You're safe now. He's gone. He can't hurt you anymore," while he thought of what to do.
He decided to make hot chocolate, since Sören liked that, and it would be something distracting and grounding. Then he decided it was time to finally just bite the bullet and give Sören the gift he'd picked up at Powell's City of Books in Portland and had yet to give because after buying it he worried Sören would find it childish and stupid. As water boiled, Dooku went to the closet in his room, where the shopping bag was sitting, and he came out.
"This is an early Christmas present," Dooku said, handing it to him.
"Nicolae, you didn't have to get me anything -"
Dooku gave him a stern look. "Open the damn bag, Sören."
Sören did. Dooku realized then that in the chaos of everything happening he'd forgotten to take out the Ursula K. LeGuin books he'd bought for himself, that he hadn't read yet - The Beginning Place and Always Coming Home. Sören's face lit up and he squeaked with happiness, and Dooku chuckled - they could be Sören's, he didn't mind getting copies for himself again.
At the coloring book of mandalas, and crayons, Dooku braced himself. And Sören said, "Aaaaaaaaaawwwwwwww." He smiled, and Dooku saw tears in his eyes. Sören flipped through the book. "The mandalas are really pretty."
"I thought it might be... stress-relieving... to color those in." Dooku shifted his weight from one foot to the other, feeling a bit anxious. "I hope you're not offended -"
"No, Nicolae. It means a lot to me that you wanted to give me something to try to help me get back into doing art again." Sören's smile was sad now.
"Your art is beautiful, and worth creating. I know the mandalas aren't on the same calibre but I thought maybe..."
"I know." Sören nodded. He put the book and crayons down and held out his arms.
Hugging him was comforting - it felt so good to hold someone and be held, skin hunger Dooku didn't even know he had - and a torture all at once. Dooku swallowed hard as he pulled Sören close, not able to keep from petting his curls.
"You've been so good to me," Sören said when they pulled apart. "Like a guardian angel, watching over me."
You're an angel, as beautiful as you are. "Someone needs to. And... you deserve it. You have a precious gift, it would be a shame for the world to lose that." You are precious. Once again, Dooku wanted to ask Sören on a date... ask Sören into his bed, to make love, to love Sören the way he deserved to be loved. Every nerve in his body was screaming for release, not just for sex, but to mate with Sören.
He'd see it as a pity fuck, and one from an old man past his prime. He may not have been insulted by the coloring book but he would be insulted by your offer. And you should be ashamed of yourself.
Dooku sat up with Sören for awhile, drinking hot chocolate, and Sören calmed down as he pet Beowulf. When Sören was ready to go back to bed, Dooku tucked him in, and stayed for a moment. Just before he could to his own room, he heard Sören crying again.
"Ohgod I'm sorry," Sören sobbed. "You need to go to bed, I know I'm a pain in the arse..."
"You're not."
"I'm afraid to go back to sleep." Sören frowned in the darkness. "I keep having nightmares about Seth. This one was so bad..."
"Oh, Sören." Dooku's own eyes teared up, hurting for him. Wishing there was something he could do.
"I know you say he's gone and he can't hurt me anymore and maybe that's true, but there's a part that isn't true. Because he's still inside my head." Sören wept some more. "I just want to rest..."
Dooku patted Sören's back. "Would it help if I stayed out here with you till you fall asleep? Sat in the recliner?"
Sören sniffled. "It might. I don't want to keep you up, though..."
My dear, you already keep me "up". "You're a guest. I am the host. It is my duty to see to your comfort."
But before Dooku sat in the recliner, he went to his room, retrieved Beowulf who had returned to his owner's bed, and came back with the cat, putting him on the couch-bed with Sören. Sören reached out with his non-injured arm to stroke the cat, who purred, and Dooku sat in the recliner, quietly meditating, stealing glances at Sören in the darkness, the dim glow of the kitchen nightlight shining in. He watched as Sören's tears subsided and at last he was breathing slow and deep, and when he started to snore a little, Dooku knew he was back asleep. The tiny snoring was adorable.
"Sleep well, dear one," Dooku whispered on his way out.