This chapter contains the f-slur both in a sexual roleplaying context between two queer men, and in a separate incidence of homophobia.
_
Anthony woke to the sound of rain...
...and the feel of a naked body against his. In particular, a plump, juicy ass against his morning erection.
Anthony was spooning Sören, arms wrapped around him. As he opened his eyes and his first sight was the fire and water phoenixes on Sören's back, Anthony's mind's eye replayed the delicious memories of what they did last night. His cock throbbed, enjoying those memories. Craving more.
Sören stirred in his arms and murmured. Anthony nuzzled Sören's neck and when Sören turned his head to the side, Anthony kissed his cheek and Sören gave a sleepy giggle.
"Morning," Anthony rumbled.
"Góðan daginn, elskan mín." Then Sören said, "Ah, English, sorry."
"No need to apologize." Anthony's stomach was butterflies again. "I could listen to you speak Icelandic all day."
With a throaty chuckle, Sören rolled over and took hold of Anthony's hard cock. "Well, something tells me you might prefer me to do something else with my mouth." His accent was meltingly heavy.
Anthony laughed too and kissed him. Then Sören took Anthony in his arms and started rubbing against him and Anthony groaned, kissing him again, head spinning with lust.
But a moment later Sören stopped grinding on him with a look of concern on his face. Anthony stroked Sören's face and hair. "You OK?" he asked.
Sören nodded. "I just want to make sure..." Sören bit his lower lip adorably, and Anthony could tell he was trying to translate his still-waking-up thoughts. "No regrets?"
"None whatsoever." A shiver went down Anthony's spine as he once again recalled how hot Sören looked sucking his cock. Those lush lips weren't just beautiful but they felt incredible. Then Anthony remembered furiously stroking himself as he went down on Sören - he hadn't expected to enjoy it that much, but there was something about Sören that did it for him. And then he felt a tiny twinge of guilt. "Well, you only came once and I came twice. That doesn't seem fair."
Sören snickered and kissed him. "Believe me, you getting off from eating me out was the hottest shit ever. I have no complaints."
"And no regrets." Anthony wanted to make sure, too.
Sören smirked. "Only that I didn't get to feel that gorgeous cock of yours inside me."
Anthony's cock pulsed in response. He'd felt how tight Sören's cunt was when he tongue-fucked him, and the thought of feeling it with his cock... Anthony groaned. "I think that can be arranged. But you said it's been longer for you than it has been for me. I'm kind of a beast and I don't want to hurt you, so I think..." Anthony reached between Sören's legs - he was still creamy, sexed-up from last night. "We should make sure you're really, really wet."
They kissed again. Then Sören gave him that mischievous grin. "Hi Kind Of A Beast And I Don't Want To Hurt You So I Think We -"
Without thinking about it, Anthony smacked Sören's ass. Sören moaned, and Anthony felt Sören's cunt pulse against the head of his cock. "Ooh, Daddy," Sören giggled.
Anthony's breath hitched. "Fuck." He still couldn't believe this was happening. He not only had a hot naked guy who looked like a Viking Jon Snow in bed with him, whose company he enjoyed immensely, who had given him amazing head last night, but Sören clearly had a bratty submissive side and it made Anthony want to do bad, bad things to him.
But first... Anthony patted his shoulders. "How about I even the orgasm score?"
Sören climbed up and straddled Anthony's shoulders, his cunt in Anthony's face. Anthony took a moment to look at it again - the way the long, thick clit jutted out at him like a small cock, the meaty labia that hung like a pair of balls. This was a man's pussy. As he looked up at Sören, admiring the whole package - the soulful brown eyes, the mane of wild curls tumbling down his shoulders, his beard, the fire and water adorning his arms, the pierced nipples, the lithe dancer's frame - Anthony thought to himself that it was one thing to be assigned male at birth, it was another thing to make oneself which was even manlier, and he felt a little in awe of Sören's masculinity, not merely going through the battle of transition but confident enough in his identity that he danced, he painted, not caring if people thought it unmanly.
"You are the sexiest, most beautiful man I have ever seen in my life," Anthony blurted out.
Sören smiled, turning a little pink, and touched Anthony's face. Anthony leaned into his touch, savoring it - realizing how touch-starved he was, after two years.
He was starving for something else, now. Sören tilted his hips forward. Anthony took a slow, deliberate lick at Sören's hard clit, then began to suck.
Once again, Anthony was surprised by how much he enjoyed doing this to Sören, the way his cock got even harder, his balls full and aching. It was just like sucking a cock, only smaller - he could get all of it in his mouth. It was like a cock and a piece of delicious candy at the same time. All the more delicious for the musky taste of his lover, and the way Sören moaned, gently rolling his hips, cock gliding back and forth in Anthony's mouth.
Anthony's hands wandered up Sören's thighs, over his stomach and chest. He played with Sören's pierced nipples, making Sören moan louder. "Oh, Daddy," Sören cried out. "So good..."
"Mmmmm." Anthony stopped sucking and took a few slow, teasing licks. "Daddy wants to spoil his good boy."
"Daddy!" Sören shuddered as Anthony took the clit back in his mouth.
Anthony sucked and sucked - resisting the urge to touch himself, because he knew after two orgasms last night he was probably going to be a one-and-done this time, and he wanted to save it for fucking Sören. The thought of being inside that tight, slick hole drove Anthony mad with lust, but as much as he was aching to pound Sören into next week he took his time sucking, enjoying, relishing Sören's moans and sighs and grunts as he put his cock-sucking skills to work.
When Sören got close, trembling, panting with little shaky gasps, Anthony slipped a finger inside him. Finding Sören's G-spot was almost like finding a prostate. He rubbed it as he sucked harder and Sören went wild, whimpering, giving broken cries. The wet squishy sound of one, then two fingers fucking made Anthony even harder, groaning around the clit in his mouth, thinking of how it would feel when his cock was in that hole. He mashed his face into Sören, suctioning, slurping, giving it his all, and a moment later Sören threw his head back with a hoarse shout and Anthony felt Sören's clit twitching, felt the contractions against his face. Anthony pulled back and the sight of Sören's cunt pulsing almost made him come untouched.
"You are so fucking hot," Anthony whispered.
Sören's moan became a husky laugh. "You're pretty hot yourself."
Anthony knew Sören probably needed to recharge before he could go again, so he held Sören, even as his body was screaming for release. But it was nice to hold someone again, and Anthony wondered what it would be like to make this a regular thing. He'd been wary of opening his heart again after William, but he couldn't help looking at Sören resting in his arms and feel that wistful ache, wanting more after this weekend.
After a few minutes of cozy snuggling, Anthony's cock began dripping precum, reminding him of how badly he needed to get off. Anthony's fingers were still coated in Sören's cream, and he brought them to Sören's lips to taste. Watching those luscious lips suck his fingers like a cock made Anthony's cock jolt, and Sören noticed and gave him a sultry look, then a sensual kiss.
They kissed and kissed, hands sliding over each other's bodies, the head of Anthony's cock teasing Sören's clit. When Sören moaned, Anthony knew he was almost ready. He kissed and licked Sören's neck and shoulder, once again delighting in how sensitive Sören was there. He lapped and suckled each of Sören's nipples, then played with one as his mouth worked on the other, back and forth until Sören was arched to him, breathing harder. Anthony's fingers walked and brushed over Sören's stomach, hips and thighs, kissing here, licking and nibbling there, letting his touch and his kiss express his tenderness, his gratitude and his acceptance. Not mere acceptance but admiration, finding Sören a beautiful work of living art.
As Anthony rubbed his nose in Sören's bush - smelling how aroused Sören was again - Sören whimpered, then gave him a pleading look. "Daddy, will you fuck me now?"
Anthony climbed over Sören and kissed him deeply. "Of course, baby." He nuzzled Sören. "How does my boy want it?"
"Ooooh, decisions." Sören stroked his chin. "I think I wanna ride it, this time."
"Good." Anthony grinned. "That's my favorite."
Anthony leaned back, propped against pillows. Sören straddled him and sank down. Anthony always loved the sight of his cock entering a hole, and this was no exception. Sören's cunt lips kissed his cock as it pushed inside; Anthony gasped as he felt the vise-like silken heat welcoming him.
Anthony loved having a thirsty bottom ride him, and Sören was deliciously eager, rocking his hips, cock gliding in and out, the velvet inner walls gripping his cock just right as Sören's cream dripped down his shaft. It wasn't long before Anthony grabbed Sören's hips, bucking furiously, their bodies slapping together as he made Sören bounce on his cock. Sören grabbed the headboard for dear life, the bed slamming against the wall as Anthony made Sören work for it.
"Yes, Daddy," Sören called out. "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy..."
"Oh, baby, you feel so fucking good." Anthony growled, spanked Sören's ass, and cupped it possessively, feeling Sören's ass wiggle as Sören kept riding. The smacking, slurping sound of their fuck drove him wild, as did watching the look on Sören's face, lost in pleasure.
When the wet sucking, squelching sound of Sören's cunt got louder, Sören reached down and began playing with his clit, two fingers strumming it back and forth, then in frantic circles. Anthony's cock pulsed inside Sören, and he rasped, "That's it, baby. Stroke that cock for Daddy. Show Daddy how hard your dick can get."
Sören cried out and worked himself even harder, still keeping a hand on the headboard to steady himself. "Daddy. Daddy..."
"Yes, baby. Show Daddy how hard your cock gets when you ride your Daddy. I love having a faggot slut boy I can fuck..." He'd been bullied with the word growing up, but he enjoyed reclaiming the word when he was with another man, and he had a feeling that being called a faggot by another gay man - acknowledged as one - would be a turn-on for Sören. He was right, feeling Sören lose it just a little, a small contraction that also squeezed his own cock.
"Daddy. Daddy." Sören made a feral noise through clenched teeth, his eyes desperate as he fucked his clit-cock between his index and middle finger. Sören's clit looked even more swollen. "Make me your faggot fucktoy, Daddy..."
"God, yes." Anthony growled and then he brushed the tip of Sören's clit with his finger, and Sören's eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly and Anthony knew Sören was there. Anthony kept caressing the tip. "That's it, come for me. Come, baby boy. Shoot your load for Daddy."
Sören screamed, "DADDY! PABBI! DADDY!" then gave a wordless cry as he shuddered.
The feel of Sören's cunt clenching over and over and pulsing sent Anthony over the edge, crying out. The relief and bliss throbbed in waves and he felt like he was falling, then rising. He pulled Sören down into a passionate kiss, then they nuzzled and laughed together, taking each other's hands, sharing the euphoria.
When he was done spending inside Sören, he pulled Sören against his chest and held him tight. Sören sighed and flexed his toes.
"You're a good boy," Anthony whispered, tousling Sören's curls.
"Thank you, Daddy."
Anthony kept absently petting Sören's curls, rubbing his back - thinking about his cats, who he'd be going home to later. He thought about inviting Sören to spend the night and remembered Sören also had a cat that he would need to pick up from his friend Yeyette's. Tonight was off the table, but there would be other nights. Anthony tried to push through the haze of afterglow to find his words for how he would initiate the "where do we go from here?" talk.
And then there was a very loud banging at the door. "You deviant perverts have fifteen minutes to get the hell out of here," the woman who worked in the lobby snarled from behind the door, "and then I'm calling the police."
Sören glanced up with alarm. "Oh shit."
"Fuck." Anthony sat up and then he bolted out of bed.
Anthony had been hoping to take a shower since they hadn't showered last night and the thought of going a second day in a row without one was unappealing, but there was no time for that. They scrambled to get dressed, and then grabbed their bags and hurried out of the motel, not looking back. It was still raining, though not as hard as yesterday, and still Anthony tore out of the parking lot as fast as he could.
"I hope she didn't get your plates," Sören said. "Jeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesus."
"Yeah. I know we were a bit loud but let's be real, straight people probably fuck there all the time. Like sex workers and their clients." Anthony shook his head. "Anyway, that is one place I can safely say I am never going again." Then Anthony's stomach growled. He had a three-hour drive ahead of him; they needed to stop for food.
There was a Denny's. That would do. "Sorry," Anthony said as they got out of the car. "I know this isn't the most romantic thing in the world -"
"It's fine," Sören said. "I don't really know how to do the go-out-to-fancy-restaurant thing with a partner, anyway."
Anthony tried not to let that comment bother him, but as they made their way inside he ruminated over whether that meant Sören was uncomfortable with upscale restaurants, uncomfortable with dating activities that involved potentially dealing with the public considering how public-facing his job was... or just uncomfortable with dating in general.
He thought about how to broach that subject with Sören and then, as he perused the menu, out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed a group of unhappy-looking women sitting together at a table - who looked familiar for some reason - and then, looking straight ahead, he saw a table full of men.
In particular there was Jeremy Hannigan, Mike Tamburelli and Nathan Malinowski, the worst of his bullies. He recognized their faces. To his dismay, he saw they were still jocks - not out of shape at all, probably all worked out and played sports once in awhile. Jeremy and Nathan were both greying now, and Mike was bald. When his eyes locked with Mike's across the diner, Anthony froze.
Mike yelled to the other guys, "Hey! It's Anthony Faggot-Johnson!"
Mike's friends began jeering and hurling other insults. Sören had his back to them and Sören's shoulders stiffened. Anthony's heart beat faster and he tried to think of how to respond, but he felt his mind shut down, and like he was glued to his chair.
Then Jeremy called over, "Hey, is that your girlfriend? Does she cuck you? I bet she will when she finds out what a faggot you are." The guys guffawed.
Sören's nostrils flared - Anthony realized they could only see Sören from behind, and with Sören's long hair they probably thought Sören was female. Anthony was now in a dilemma: he could either let them keep mocking his "girlfriend" which would trigger Sören, or out himself as being with a guy and face...
Anthony put his hand on Sören's wrist and without hesitating, he called back, "Actually, he's my boyf-"
But then Sören wrenched back, pure wrath on his face, got out of his seat and whirled around. He held out his tattooed arms, giving them a view of his beard, the flat torso... and the steel-toed Doc Martens on his feet. "You want some of this? Huh?" Sören began to move forward, slowly and deliberately. His accent was heavier as he growled, "You spent your entire high school career bullying this guy, well now I'm here to bully you right back. You're about to get your asses handed to you by a faggot. I'll take on all three of you, you pathetic fucking assholes."
The guys weren't laughing anymore. Jeremy leaned back a little in his seat, seeing Sören was deadly serious. Mike dropped his fork and stopped mid-chew, panic on his face, and Nathan's mouth opened.
Usually one against three was terrible odds, but since they'd been in school there were a lot of lone gunmen and other acts of ultraviolence committed by a single man against many. And even though Sören wasn't bulky muscle like they were, Anthony knew from being ridden by Sören how strong he was - Sören danced, after all - and Anthony almost believed Sören could take them. If nothing else, his bullies were reacting to a Viking-looking dude boiling with berserker rage.
Just before Sören could make it to the table, a waiter stopped him. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
Anthony had to drag Sören out - who kept trying to turn around, give the finger in the general direction of the bullies, yelling "FUCK YOU, ASSHOLES!" While Anthony was hungry and frustrated they'd gotten thrown out of Denny's - of all places - he couldn't help but crack up laughing once he was behind the wheel, needing a moment before he started the car.
"I'm sorry," Sören said.
Anthony turned to him with a grin. "Hi Sorry, I'm -"
Sören facepalmed with an exaggerated groan, then he slid his hand down his face, grinned back at Anthony, and laughed too, shaking and heaving. "Oh Jesus Christ. I'm usually not like that, I swear. But -"
"It was hot," Anthony said sincerely as he backed out the car. "You know what? That was even better than showing them up on the dance floor." Even though it seemed like those three were in decent shape, he doubted they could dance without looking like idiots and he was a little relieved to be spared that painful spectacle. Then he realized who the women were at the table - cheerleaders, Brenda and Amy and Lisa, who were now different sizes but all looked tired and miserable. He had a feeling that at least some of his bullies had married their high school girlfriends and probably none of them were happy. "And you made them look like weak little punks in front of their wives."
"I'm surprised they even have wives." Sören snorted.
"Well, you know. Some people have no taste." When Sören glanced over, Anthony hinted. "I, meanwhile, have excellent taste in men." He tweaked Sören's nose.
Sören grinned and blushed, and Anthony smiled at the way Sören bit his lower lip. Then Anthony sighed, remembering his last fight with William. "Except when I don't. My last relationship was a disaster, so I have a hard time with..." Anthony didn't know how to word it in a way that wouldn't sound like he was pushing Sören away, so he got to the chase. "But I'd really, really like to do this with you again." He quickly added, "Uh, you know. Spend time with you, including sexytimes. Not the getting kicked out of a Denny's part."
Sören giggled madly. "Or getting kicked out of a motel."
"Yeah."
Sören grinned at him again. "I'd like that, Anthony. I'd like that a lot."
Anthony breathed a small sigh of relief. "Good."
They hit a McDonald's drive-thru, but pulled into the parking lot to eat in the car so Anthony didn't have to eat and drive. When they were just about done eating, Sören giggled and Anthony made a curious "Hm?"
"Oh, you know." Sören adjusted himself in his seat. "I can feel your cum dripping out of me."
Anthony heard himself moan. He was too spent from last night plus this morning to go again just now - he wasn't twenty anymore - but suddenly the endorphins of the adrenaline rush from the diner collided with his libido in just the right way and he found himself leaning in to kiss Sören hard. "You were so fucking hot in there trying to defend me," he husked. "And it was very sweet of you."
Sören smiled. "You didn't deserve their shit, Anthony."
Anthony swallowed hard. He'd needed to hear that from someone else for so long. He stroked Sören's cheek and kissed him again, and then, caught up in the rush of emotion, he kissed down Sören's neck and with his lips close to Sören's neck he said, "Daddy wants to give you a reward for being such a brave boy."
And that was how he and Sören ended up in the back seat of his Prius in a McDonald's parking lot, with Sören's jeans around his ankles and Anthony's head in Sören's lap, sucking him until Sören climaxed again, clutching at him with a broken sob as he came.
When they were in the front seat again, Anthony said, "That would be a first for me."
"What, sex in a back seat?"
Anthony nodded.
Sören grinned. "Well, maybe it won't be the last time."
Anthony grinned too, flustered and happy. More relief that it seemed like Sören wanted to see where this went.
Though Anthony hated driving on the highway, it was still a cozy atmosphere with the rain and the radio and he and Sören talking about news and politics, hobbies and interests, sharing more cute and funny cat stories, and bantering. Anthony felt more at ease with Sören, and that spark was definitely there, glowing with promise.
It was enough that Anthony felt his spirits sink a bit as they drove into town, even as Anthony was looking forward to seeing his cats. He drove more slowly to Yeyette's, not wanting it to be over just yet, but when Snúður began yowling in his cat carrier, Anthony drove at a normal speed, distressed by the poor kitty that wanted to go home.
Even so, they lingered once they were at Sören's duplex. "Thank you, again, for this weekend," Anthony said.
"Thank you."
"So, ah..." Anthony put a hand on Sören's shoulder. "You want to get together some night this week, maybe you can bring the kitty and chill at my place?"
"I'd like that."
"Good. How about I call you tomorrow after I get off work and we can set up a time?"
"OK!"
They kissed, and Anthony watched Sören walk up to his door, and leaned back with a little sigh once Sören was inside.
Back at his own house, Solly and Seamus began yowling accusatorily, then proceeded to ignore Anthony once he replaced the food Mrs. Wilson had left them this morning and offered pettings. Anthony hadn't been away overnight since before he and William broke up, so he knew the cats were taking it especially hard.
Anthony showered, and once he was freshly clean and in pajamas, then Solly came to investigate, and after watching Anthony love up on Solly, Seamus decided he wanted love too. Anthony unpacked his overnight bag and the cats sniffed to inspect the contents as Anthony gathered dirty laundry and put his tuxedo in its rental bag for the return, where they'd clean it. After the laundry was started and Anthony was on the couch with a cold Dos Equis as he checked the e-mail he'd been avoiding all weekend, Solly came up next to him for more pettings. After awhile Solly was sitting on his thigh and Seamus on his shoulders, kneading and purring away.
It was the perfect moment for a selfie to send Sören, but Anthony was in his pajamas. His cell phone was usually in his jeans pocket, and Anthony didn't remember taking it out to charge -
"OH SHIT, OH GOD, OH FUCK, JESUS FUCKING CHRIST." Anthony quickly picked Solly up and set her down beside him, then tried to move his shoulders indicating that Seamus should get down. Seamus dug in with his claws and Anthony exhaled sharply, rising up from the couch with Seamus perched on him. Then he walked as quickly as he could to the washer - Seamus riding his shoulders all the way, as he had many times before. As Anthony stopped the machine, Seamus hopped down and walked over to the litterbox. Anthony pulled out his jeans from the wash, and sure enough, there was his cell phone.
Anthony facepalmed, then dashed to the kitchen with cell phone in hand, hoping he still had some dry rice around.
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