"Well, hello."
Sören holds out his arms and walks a little faster to meet Nicholas approaching. The first thing he notices - besides how much more handsome Nicholas is in-person than his photos - is how tall he is. Sören and Anthony are both 5'10" - Anthony stands somewhat taller in his brogues - and Mark is a little taller but Sören knows they're the exception rather than the rule for trans guys, most tend to be shorter. Nicholas is a good three or four inches taller than him.
Nicholas embraces Sören and kisses him on both cheeks, French-style, then kisses him on the lips, sweet and lingering before their lips part and their tongues play together slowly, sensually. A first kiss that sends a frisson down Sören's spine and makes his cunt twinge.
"Hello yourself." Sören fondly skritches Nicholas's beard like a cat. "Thank you, again, for inviting us here."
Nicholas smiles and leans into Sören's touch before taking his hand and kissing it. "Thank you for accepting my invitation. I am sure we will have... a most enjoyable time, non?"
That deep velvet voice with its Quebecois accent makes Sören weak. Just when he think he can't get any hornier for this guy, Anthony and Mark step forward and Nicholas says, "My, you didn't tell me your boyfriends are so handsome. I can see why you're smitten with them." And Anthony responds by grabbing Nicholas and kissing him, right then and there.
Nicholas's eyes widen with surprise, and then he kisses Anthony back, returning passion for passion. When they pull apart they're both breathing harder and Nicholas's cheeks are flushed pink, while Anthony gives that smug little smirk - the one Sören recognizes as meaning I own you and I'm in charge here.
"Very enjoyable," Sören agrees.
There's a small parking lot on the property of Forest For The Trees - big enough for their RV and a few other vehicles - and they follow Nicholas down the dirt road, through the rows of marijuana plants in the woods. There are three treehouses at the end of the fields, and Sören grins as they get close enough to see the treehouses have accessibility ramps. Even though Anthony and Mark have given Sören permission to stay with Nicholas while they're here - and Sören thinks the two of them should get some time to themselves and have a sort of honeymoon - Sören is still glad that he won't have to climb a lot of stairs if he wants to visit them.
The treehouse interior is set up like a cabin - all open-plan, with a couch and loveseat in the center, a kitchenette area with a few appliances and a sink and counter space, and by one of the windows, a nook for a king-sized bed with a privacy curtain. "Looks very cozy," Anthony said. "Now it's my turn to thank you for your generosity and hospitality."
"Very kind of you," Mark adds, nodding.
Nicholas smiles and pats them both on the shoulders. "I hope everything will be to your liking. I'll give you some time to get settled in and you can meet me and Sören in the main house when you're ready for our journey."
Nicholas and Sören walk back through the dirt path between the pot fields, more slowly this time. Sören is still feeling shy but a little more relaxed, and he feels that flutter in his stomach when Nicholas takes his hand. Sören squeezes Nicholas's hand, and leans in and gets on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. Nicholas pauses and kisses him again, and when they pull back Nicholas spends a moment tenderly stroking Sören's face and petting his curls. "You, my dear, are exquisite," Nicholas husks.
Sören bites his lip, feeling his face flush. "Takk. You're... gorgeous." Sören giggles. "And so tall."
"I'm not just trans, I'm also intersex," Nicholas says, matter-of-factly. "I have congenital adrenal hyperplasia. I wasn't diagnosed until I was an adult."
"Ah," Sören says, not knowing what to say, not wanting to put his foot in it. But he doesn't want to just say nothing, so he tries to be careful. "Well, you're the first trans guy I've met over fifty. I imagine you haven't had an easy time of it all around."
"Indeed." Nicholas nods. "I began transition twenty years ago. There were very few of us back then - not a lot of information, and almost no representation for trans men, only rarely did you hear about trans women. And doctors were much more reluctant to treat gay trans men, thinking it would be easier if we remained 'straight women'. I would say I am envious of your generation having fewer roadblocks, but I fear that with the way things are going in this country and the pushback on our rights, it may get a lot harder for all of us... and at least I have had a couple of decades to live my truth. I can't imagine what it's like to come out only to have to go back in the closet within a few years."
Sören frowns and kicks a pebble down the path. He doesn't like thinking about it, even though he knows Nicholas is right - and he hasn't had the talk with Anthony and Mark about plans for a potentially more dystopian future.
"I'm sorry, dear." Nicholas squeezes Sören's hand again, then puts an arm around Sören's waist and pulls him closer. "I shouldn't have started on such a depressing note -"
"It's OK." Sören pats him. "I think you're pretty badass, for coming out when you did, when things were a lot worse. I respect and admire the hell out of you. And people who think we have it 'easier' as 'straight women' need to get a reality check. I wouldn't have gone to all this trouble if it was 'easier'. I want to be with men, as a man. There's a whole different vibe there."
"Very much. Not just sexually, but there is a brotherhood. And I felt as if I was performing very bad drag when I lived as female. There was a void there. All the worse when I spent years of that life in the public eye."
"Oh?" Sören raises an eyebrow, curious but not wanting to be invasive. "You're... famous?"
"Was," Nicholas says, nodding. "I am a retired chef. I went to Le Cordon Bleu, I earnt a Michelin star at a restaurant I had in New York by the time I was thirty, which was something of a phenomenon, and back in the 1990s I had a TV show on the Food Network, while I was still female-facing, under my deadname, Nicole Decaux." He takes his phone out of the pocket of his khakis, pulls up a gallery, and shows Sören a photo of a thirtysomething woman who bears a resemblance to Frida Kahlo but with a longer face and her black hair in a bob, wearing a white chef's uniform. It's a startling contrast to Nicholas as he is now, with his silver hair and beard, chest hair visible through the top of his button-down short-sleeved shirt where the first two buttons are undone, and testosterone has masculinized his face, but Sören can still see the path from before and after. "There's a Wikipedia article about me as well if you want to learn more sometime, but the short version is my show was cancelled early into my transition not because of ratings, but because of the changes becoming more obvious and we lived in... far less enlightened times. It was not that long after 9/11, right-wing rhetoric about 'family values' dominated..."
"Shit." Sören kicks another pebble, like it personally offended him.
"I tried to keep the restaurant going but I dealt with discrimination and harassment there, as well. So I used my savings and began this place." Nicholas gestures around at the healthy pot plants and the trees. "This isn't what I had intended to do with my life, but in a way I am more satisfied now. It was unfortunate that the circumstances were that of exile, but I think I've done well - this is a little sanctuary I've created and people have nourishing, meaningful experiences here. The restaurant industry is all very commercialized and capitalist. This... is getting back to nature, helping people rediscover what's truly important in life."
Sören blurts out, "I think I'm in love," then he claps his hand over his mouth, worried that came out creepy and getting too attached too soon.
But then Nicholas laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and he gives Sören a big hug and kisses Sören's brow before his lips slide down to kiss the tip of Sören's nose and their mouths meet again. "From what you showed me of your paintings, I could say the same about you. It takes a beautiful soul to bring such visions to life." He rests a hand on Sören's heart for a moment, then takes Sören's hand and they resume walking, completing the circuit to arrive at a charming grey-blue cottage with climbing yellow-red roses that look like flowers made of fire, an herb garden and dwarf Meyer lemon trees. When they arrive in the cottage a mostly-black tortie with big chartreuse eyes greets them and shouts, "MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
"As you know, I just fed you," Nicholas admonishes the cat, who circles around his ankles and shouts "MAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" again.
"Oh, what a cute baby," Sören says, stooping to let the cat sniff his hand, and then the cat does a little pounce-nuzzle of approval.
"That is Hélène," Nicholas says.
"MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA."
"I suppose you can have a treat." Nicholas shakes his head and rolls his eyes, but then he smiles indulgently. "I know I'm just reinforcing the behavior."
Hélène leads the way to the kitchen, where after Nicholas dispenses cat treats - bringing out an older brown tabby who keeps a distance from the tortie to consume treats - Nicholas pours them each a glass of lemonade. "Made from my own lemons," Nicholas says.
Just then, Mark and Anthony get in. "Hello?" Anthony calls.
"We're down here," Sören yells back. Nicholas fetches two more glasses and pours more lemonade as Mark and Anthony step into the kitchen.
"Here you are," Nicholas says, handing them each a lemonade.
"Oh, thank you." Anthony sips his right away and his eyes widen a little bit. "Wow, that's good."
Mark sips his and his face also registers pleasant surprise. "This is the best lemonade I've ever had, and I've drank a lot of it over the years."
"He's a real chef," Sören says, then he adds, "Was," then he claps his hand over his mouth, feeling like he shouldn't have volunteered that information.
"It's all right," Nicholas says, patting him. "It's not really a secret."
Anthony's jaw drops as he makes the connection. "Was... your deadname Nicole? You had a cooking show, right?"
Nicholas nods solemnly.
"I'm from the UK but your show aired there too and my mum was a big fan and she and my dad ate at your restaurant in New York before..." Anthony's voice trails off; Sören knows he's about to mention 9/11 and also probably realizes he might have hit a sore spot.
"Would you like me to sign an autograph for your mum?" Nicholas asks.
"She's... not with us anymore. She was touring the Twin Towers when 9/11 happened. Your restaurant was one of the last things she did, she called me about it, she was so excited... and -" Anthony looks away, trying to keep his facial expression neutral but he suddenly looks very, very tired.
Nicholas sighs. "I am so sorry." He takes Anthony's lemonade and puts it down, and gives Anthony a fierce, tight hug. Anthony leans on him for a moment.
When Anthony pulls back and takes another sip of lemonade, Mark gives him noogies, making Anthony laugh and swat him before Mark puts an arm around him.
"I was about to tell Sören here that my draw to a younger partner is to be a father figure, a mentor, to other trans men who need it. Part of my realization that I relate to men as a gay man and not as a straight woman was through my love of history and seeing gay relationships in antiquity - older men mentoring younger lovers - and craving that, specifically." Nicholas puts a hand on Sören's shoulder, making him tingle.
Anthony nods. "My favorite poet is Walt Whitman. I had similar feelings reading his poetry where it was clear he was talking about love between queer men."
"It seems I have three boys now." Nicholas smiles warmly at Anthony and Mark.
Mark smirks, and so does Anthony. Sören tries not to laugh - he knows before their time in the Bay Area is over, Anthony will assert himself as the alpha of their little pack, regardless of Nicholas being the elder. Though he suspects Nicholas will give him a good challenge for it.
"On that note..." Nicholas finishes his lemonade. "Shall we go on our first little adventure?"
"MAAAAAAAAAAAAAA," Hélène hollers, standing up on her hind legs with her front paws on Nicholas's calf as if to protest their leaving.
"Ohhhhh, sweet adorable kitty!" Anthony's face lights up and he stoops, loving up on Hélène when she wanders over.
"That's Hélène, and the brown one is Solange. Hélène is indeed very sweet and very cute," Nicholas says, "but she is also... rather a lot."
"Oh, like this one," Anthony says, gesturing to Sören before he resumes petting Hélène and is rewarded by headbutts.
Sören blows a raspberry and gives him a sassy butt wiggle.
For their first day in the Bay Area, while they're in Sonoma, Nicholas takes them on a tour of three wineries. While some travel guides suggest one can visit 10-12 wineries in a day, Nicholas calls this "nonsense" and that it's better when one isn't rushed and can appreciate the scenery more - especially the spectacular views driving along the California coast.
The wine country is unlike anything Sören has ever seen before - he grew up in Akureyri surrounded by the rolling hills of farm country, but here the land is more fertile and lush. At each of the three wineries they do some wine tasting besides strolling around to admire the grape vines in their orchards under a perfect blue sunny sky. At their last destination, as they sip wine under a tree looking out at the vines in the light of golden hour, Mark serenades them with his acoustic guitar, playing Spanish flamenco songs.
By late afternoon, between Mark's music and having enough small servings of wine that total up to a couple glasses, Sören is feeling a pleasant buzz. Sören isn't much of a drinker, having been raised by alcoholics - he can take it or leave it - but it feels strangely healing to be around other people who have a perfectly normal relationship with alcohol and are enjoying it in moderation and not being violent, abusive drunks.
Despite this, Sören can't help thinking back to watching Einar get shit-faced, while Nicholas is making them bouillabaisse with a garden salad and baguettes back at the cottage. He tries to distract himself by working on his tablet, sketching the vineyards he can still see in his mind's eye, but he still feels a wistful ache for the father he never had, and Nicholas seems to intuitively pick up on it once Anthony and Mark have retreated to their treehouse for the night.
"Would you like to sit on Daddy's lap for awhile?" Nicholas asks.
Sören bites his lip, nods, and comes over to sit on Nicholas's lap. Nicholas holds him for awhile and Sören snuggles into his chest, letting those strong arms protect him.
"You're a good boy," Nicholas says, petting him.
"You're a good man." Sören looks up and touches his face. "I feel safe with you." Even though they've just met in-person today - and haven't been talking for very long online, barely more than two weeks - Sören feels like he's known Nicholas for a long time. He can't quite explain it, but there's a spark between them. Sören knows that it's hard to make long-distance relationships work, but he also knows that Nicholas could easily become as important to him as Anthony and Mark, the three of them sharing his heart.
"I hope so." Nicholas traces Sören's lips with his thumb. "I worried that taking you to see wineries might potentially be triggering with what you've told me of your upbringing, but I also thought you would tell me if it -"
"Oh, I did enjoy today!" Sören nods. "I'm glad we went to see the vineyards and sampled their product. And it was nice to be around someone who wasn't guzzling it down acting like an asshole. I have had some thoughts about my uncle since we got back but the thing is, a lot of stuff reminds me of... back then... and I can't live my life avoiding everything. Just the big stuff, if that makes sense."
"It does." Nicholas takes Sören's hand. "You deserved better than what I know about what happened to you, and I know you haven't even told me everything." Nicholas kisses Sören's hand. "But tonight, if you need Daddy..."
"I do." Sören leans in and steals a kiss. They nuzzle and then they share a longer, deeper kiss, the passion rising between them. Sören starts slowly unbuttoning Nicholas's top. "Mmmm, and I want Daddy."
Nicholas kisses him fiercely, then takes Sören's hand away from his shirt, rises up from the couch, and drags Sören by the hem of his shirt towards his bedroom, with Sören giggling all the way.
Nicholas's bedroom has pale blue walls and a king-sized bed with a navy blue comforter; a small bookshelf sits by the bed. The walls are adorned with seascape paintings in heavy wooden frames, and there are a few shelves with seashells, sea glass, driftwood and other beach findings, and a quiet corner with an electric waterfall and an aquarium tank where tetras and rasboras are swimming, with a beige cat tree parked nearby to give the cats a good view. Gauzy grey-blue curtains hang in front of large picture windows - sunset is fading to dusk.
The sky is beautiful, but there's something Sören wants to look at even more. He and Nicholas feverishly undress each other, kissing, running their hands over each other's naked bodies. Sören giggles as Nicholas collects their clothes to neatly put in a beige wicker laundry hamper, and then Sören pounces on him and they kiss all the way to the bed. Nicholas turns down the covers, climbs on the bed and Sören climbs over him, and shivers as Nicholas caresses his back and ass while they kiss again. Nicholas kisses and licks down Sören's neck and shoulder, and when their mouths meet once more, Nicholas rolls Sören onto his back.
They pull apart to look at each other. Sören moans appreciatively at Nicholas's sculpted, lean-muscled body, the silver pelt on his torso and arms and legs, the silver bush. Nicholas has impressive bottom growth - he's almost twice as big as Sören and not even pumped; Sören reminds himself Nicholas is intersex and was probably well-endowed before starting T. He wants to suck on it, he wants to feel it rubbing against his hard, aching nub... he wants everything.
"You are a beautiful, beautiful boy," Nicholas whispers, playing with Sören's pierced nipples.
"You are so fucking sexy." Sören kisses him as his palms run over the defined pecs, his fingers combing the chest hair. "Fuck, I want you."
"I want you." Nicholas takes Sören's chin in his hand and Sören trembles at the lust in those dark chocolate eyes. "While I am very glad and relieved that your feelings for Mark and Anthony are returned, I am also glad you still -"
Sören puts a finger to his lips. He knows. "I have a big heart."
"That's not all that's big." Nicholas reaches down and his index finger brushes Sören's cock, as he gives Sören a wicked little smile. "My, what a big boy you are."
Sören almost comes from that touch and that praise. "You're big too, Daddy." Sören's fingers wander down to Nicholas's cock, gently rubbing.
"All the better to fuck you with, my dear." Nicholas's smile becomes a grin, and then Nicholas kisses him deeply, and Sören's cunt throbs, almost coming untouched, heat and electricity through his entire body. "But first... do you recall the night Mark and Anthony were wed, and to help comfort you, I told you what I would do to you if I was there?"
"I haven't been able to stop thinking about it." Sören remembers the wet, messy orgasm he had as Nicholas used his words to create a steamy, sensual scene of decadent pleasure.
"I'd like to make good on those words, Little One." Nicholas kisses him again, and starts kissing Sören's neck. Sören moans and bucks against him, drowning in sensation... and anticipation.
Nicholas reaches behind him to the shelved headboard and Sören laughs with delight when he sees the bottle of vanilla massage oil in his hand. "I bought this yesterday, for your arrival."
"Ooh, Daddy." Sören gives him a kiss.
Sören lays on his stomach and sighs as Nicholas pours oil over his back and ass. Nicholas's hands rub in slow circles, sometimes pressing in firmly to knead, sometimes a more gentle caress. Nicholas kisses here and there at Sören's shoulders and back, and as he moves lower to rub Sören's ass, he kisses his way down Sören's sensitive spine.
"I like the phoenixes on your back," Nicholas says softly.
"Takk. I designed them myself." Sören decides to spare him the story of why he has the ink that he does. "Fuck, you have good hands."
"You deserve to be spoilt, Little One." Nicholas nibbles at Sören's hip, making him gasp and shudder with pleasure.
Nicholas kneads and strokes Sören's left thigh and calf, then his right. When he massages Sören's feet, Sören hears himself making guttural noises as the tension melts out of him.
When it's time for Sören to turn over so Nicholas can work on the front of him, Sören parts his thighs so Nicholas can see how drenched he is already. Nicholas groans at the sight of his hard little cock and creamy cunt, and playfully flicks Sören's cock with his thumb before he pours oil over Sören's torso.
Nicholas's touch is more sensual and deliberate now, hands sliding, fingers brushing. His thumbs rub Sören's hard nipples and as his hands move over Sören's stomach and thighs he leans in to lap and suckle Sören's left nipple, then his right. "I like your piercings, too." He tugs on a nipple ring with his teeth before his tongue rubs harder, more insistently, making Sören moan. "Quite alluring."
Sören giggles and moans again. "I like your French accent."
Nicholas smiles. His thumb plays with Sören's right nipple as he licks and sucks the left, then his tongue lashes the right nipple as he plays with the left and after he sucks on it, pulling it hard with his lips, he plants a tender little kiss over Sören's heart and purrs, "Je pourrais passer avec plaisir des heures chaque jour à te faire l'amour passionnément, à savourer chaque partie de ton corps magnifique et délicieux, à t'amener à l'orgasme après l'orgasme, à te donner l'extase qu'un si beau et bon garçon mérite."
Sören bucks and whimpers, rubbing his thighs together with frustration as his cunt throbs. "Oh fuck, Daddy..."
"Mmmmmm."
Sören gives a throaty chuckle. "I have no idea what you said apart from the word 'orgasm' but I love it."
"Your own accent is beautiful." Nicholas starts kissing Sören's tummy here and there as his hands wander over Sören's stomach and thighs.
Sören bites his lip. Two can play the teasing game. "Ég vil að þú ríður mér með heita blautu kútinn þinn og lætur okkur bæði spreyja, haltu áfram að nudda snípunum okkar saman, komdu og sprautaðu þar til rúmið er gegnblautt af ásamt okkar."
Nicholas growls and nibbles at Sören's stomach, making him cry out, almost coming.
Nicholas kisses and licks Sören's stomach and thighs, continuing to caress him, tracing lines and swirls and arcs. Sören's arms are covered in gooseflesh and his nipples and cock are aching. At last Nicholas nuzzles Sören's bush and then, with hungry eyes, he begins to lick Sören's cock ever so slowly. Just as he'd promised the night they had cybersex. "Oh, Daddy..." Sören clutches his head and lets out a moan.
"As you know... Daddy promised." Nicholas takes another long, slow lick at Sören's cock. "My good, good boy deserves a night of lavish pleasure."
"Fuckkkk..."
Nicholas licks and licks, teasing him, and finally he draws the nub of Sören's cock in his mouth, sucking on it, rolling it a little like it's a piece of hard candy. Sören pants like he's in heat, thighs quivering as the suctioning pressure back and forth over his cock gets him harder, closer, tension coiling until he's there, whimpering, ready to explode but never wanting him to stop...
Nicholas pulls back, his tongue gently flutters on Sören's cock to tease him even more, and then he sucks as hard as he can, his mouth clamping down hard, his lips tugging as he works the cock back and forth in his mouth. In a few strokes Sören climaxes, screaming as he gushes, pulsing, feeling like he's flying, then sinking into soft fluffy clouds and floating, melting and flowing.
"Good boy," Nicholas whispers. He comes up and kisses Sören deeply, and Sören moans at the taste of himself on his lover's tongue.
They kiss again, and Sören can't help but run his hands up and down Nicholas's chest, enjoying the feel of his chest hair and his muscles. As blissed-out as Sören feels - where it's tempting to just doze for awhile - he knows Nicholas hasn't come yet, and he wants to worship Nicholas's body and return the wonderful pleasure given. He reaches between Nicholas's legs and groans at how wet he is, how long and thickly swollen his t-dick feels. "Mmmm, Daddy, I want to make you come too," Sören says, and starts kissing Nicholas's neck.
Nicholas moans and pats Sören's ass. "You're a good, sweet boy, but as you know, Daddy said I would take care of you tonight. Daddy wants to spoil his Little One."
Sören blows a raspberry into the hollow of Nicholas's neck and shoulder, making the older man laugh, then Nicholas moans again as Sören kisses and licks there, and his fingers walk up Nicholas's stomach to his chest, thumbs rolling and strumming Nicholas's nipples as he kisses his neck. "You can spoil me by letting me spoil you. I want to love every inch of your gorgeous, masculine body."
"Oh, all right." Nicholas heaves an exaggerated sigh and presses his forearm to his forehead with an eyeroll, making Sören giggle before he steals another kiss.
Nicholas lays on his stomach and Sören pours oil over him. He grinds against Nicholas's thigh as he works the oil into Nicholas's shapely back, kneading and rolling, caressing, kissing and licking across his back and down his spine. Sören squeezes Nicholas's firm ass cheeks and rubs them firmly, making Nicholas groan. He straddles Nicholas's right calf and keeps grinding it as his hands stroke Nicholas's left calf, then he does the same with the other leg, thrilling to the way Nicholas moans softly, breathing harder.
When Nicholas rolls onto his back, Sören takes a moment to kiss him before he pours oil down the front of him. Then he slowly slides his hands all over Nicholas's body, kissing, licking, nibbling, nuzzling. "So sexy," Sören whispers. "You get me so hot." The sight of Nicholas's body glistening with oil is driving him out of his mind with lust.
So much so that when Sören starts sucking his cock, Sören can't help touching himself, moaning along with Nicholas. After a few moments of Sören's mouth on him, Nicholas says, "Here, love. Let's pleasure each other."
They get into a sixty-nine, lapping and sucking each other hungrily, moaning into each other's cunts. Sören enjoys making his juices flow, making him wetter, sloppier, feeling Nicholas tremble as he gets closer. Before they can both come in each other's mouths, Nicholas growls, "Daddy wants to fuck you."
"Fuck, yes." Sören almost comes just from those words.
Sören lays back, propped up against the pillows. Nicholas hooks Sören's right leg around him and kisses him as their cunts kiss for the first time. Nicholas rolls his hips slowly at first, cock teasing cock sweetly, sensually, and they kiss open-mouthed, the slow brushing of their tongues a mirror of their cocks playing together. Soon enough the passion overtakes them and Sören clings to him tightly, tongues lashing, then Nicholas kisses his neck and whispering to him in French as the sound of their wet, sloppy cunts smacking together rises above the sound of his cries. The bed rocks against the wall and Nicholas stops being able to make words at all, only primal grunts and snarls as cock fucks cock, lost in that delicious rhythm until nothing else exists but ecstasy.
"Daddy, Daddy..." Sören bites his lip and whimpers.
"Yes, son. Yes, that's a good boy for Daddy. Daddy's good boy... this is how Daddy teaches his boy to be a man and fuck like men..."
Sören growls and bucks, his nails rake Nicholas's back as their mouths crush together, then they're kissing open-mouthed again, breathless, trembling.
When they're both right there, Sören hears himself panting "Daddy, Daddy, Pabbi, Daddy..."
"Yes, son. Yes, son..."
They come together, kissing fiercely, and clutch each other for dear life, Sören's nails digging in Nicholas's back, their foreheads pressed together, breathing each other's shuddery breath as their cunts contract in the same rhythm. Sören whimpers as he feels Nicholas gushing inside him, and Nicholas groans into the hollow of Sören's neck and shoulder. "Good boy," Nicholas husks, his voice shaking. "Daddy's good, good, good boy."
Sören melts, the praise from a father figure a balm for his soul.
They're both spent after that, and spend awhile just holding each other, legs entwined - Nicholas is like a big teddy bear and Sören drinks in the wonderful feeling of cozy safety in his arms, snuggled into his chest hair. Before Sören can drift off, Nicholas gently clears his throat and says, "As you know, we should probably wash off all this oil."
Nicholas and Sören shower together, lovingly lathering each other, playfully tickling each other as they rinse off, and finally holding each other, rocking together under the warm spray. Sören feels relaxed down into his bones, and that feeling of contentment grows into quiet joy when Nicholas tucks him in, then holds him and rocks him, petting him to sleep.
Unfortunately, as safe and loved as Sören feels, that doesn't stop him from having that nightmare. The one that's plagued him since early childhood, of being ambushed by the pack of fire demons, mortally wounding him with flaming whips. But this time it's the worst it's ever been - not only is there the usual fire demon pack to contend with, tonight Sören dreams of Nicholas wearing shining armor, carrying a magical sword made of something like dry ice and a shield with glowing blue crystals, standing alone in single combat against a giant many times his size, wearing a hideous spiked iron crown. Nicholas lames him, but still falls at the giant's enormous hammer.
Sören wakes up with a start, sobbing. Nicholas sits up and immediately holds him. "Mon cher." Nicholas's arms tighten around him. "Est-ce que vous allez bien? As-tu fait un mauvais rêve?" Then Nicholas clears his throat and says, "Sorry, English."
But even though Sören doesn't speak French, he still gets the gist of what Nicholas said. "Jæja, I had a nightmare."
Nicholas sighs and nods. "I had one too. I think the wine might have gotten to us."
Sören is curious - for a brief instant he wonders if they had the same nightmare, then he decides that sounds batshit crazy so he dismisses the idea. He decides not to ask Nicholas about it. Nicholas seems to not want to pry either - Nicholas glances out the window, at the twilight just before dawn. "I know it is quite early, but would you care to go for a short walk? Some fresh air might help..."
"OK," Sören says. He gets out of bed and stretches, then winces a little - while he's been building up endurance it still isn't what it used to be before long COVID and he feels random aches and pains like he's in his forties instead of his twenties. "A short one, though. And we need to take it slow." Sören noticed yesterday that Nicholas walks faster than he does.
"Of course." Nicholas gives him a small, reassuring smile. "You will lead, and I will follow."