"Yo, Adrian!"
Anthony snickers and rolls his eyes at Mark's attempt at humor. Mark smiles back, and puts an arm around him. Anthony leans on him for a moment as Sören marches ahead to the Rocky Balboa statue. When he gets about a foot away, Sören yells, "Oh... Rocky!"
"Bullwinkle," Mark yells back, not able to resist the Rocky Horror Picture Show audience participation reference.
Sören facepalms and howls with laughter and Anthony gives another eyeroll but laughs harder. Then Anthony pulls Mark along to catch up to Sören.
Mark remembers when the Rocky movies were new - Mark remembers the 1940s before Sylvester Stallone was even born - and Mark once again feels that twinge of how long he's been around, the way he's watched the world change and change and change. But he sees the world through new eyes as he watches Sören and Anthony's enthusiasm at the famous statue of Rocky Balboa, getting ready for a photo op.
The Rocky statue is one of the most iconic landmarks of Philadelphia, a "must see" in every tourist guide, and unsurprisingly there's a lot of people about even during the day on a weekday. Mark always feels a little keyed up in crowds, both as non-human and as a trans man, and he's not exactly inconspicuous with his unfashionably long hair, looking like a rock star - in times past calling too much attention to himself was dangerous. Today he just blends in, one more tourist preparing to take pictures with Rocky, and he's much more anxious about the other thing he came here to Philadelphia to do, than whether or not people gawk at him and pick up on him being different somehow.
But that thing won't happen for awhile yet. Here and now, Anthony gets out his selfie stick. He and Sören take individual selfies while Mark watches fondly, and then Anthony grabs him and Mark concedes to a group photo. Mark is necessarily protective of his privacy, he doesn't use social media apart from what is necessary to keep his record shop running, but he also knows for humans, taking these kinds of photos is a way to preserve memories and relive an ephemeral moment of perfect, shining happiness.
Indeed, Maglor Fëanorion knows it isn't a concept entirely unique to humans, either. Many of the songs he's written have been about others - a way to carry the Fëanorion fire. And he is one of the few who knows the truth about why Fëanor himself made the Silmarils. They were a symbol of the light and warmth Fëanor shared with his brothers, and later Maglor as well - one Silmaril for each of Fëanor's lovers, Fingolfin, Finarfin and Maglor... the secret fire they kept hidden because of the Laws. They had not been hallowed by Varda's power, but by Love itself - they burned with Fëanor's passion. Such was the love between them that across the eons, Maglor and Finarfin had found their way back to each other again.
Mark and Anthony rarely discuss the distant past, as it was traumatic for them both. And while Anthony has "Finarfin moments" that shine through, there is no going home again, they have to live in this world, in these lives. The elven king is now a mortal, a product of the modern world. Mark finds the surrealness of Finarfin taking selfies at the Rocky statue to be amusing rather than disturbing, and he imagines Fëanor would be fascinated by gadgets like cell phones, technology like the Internet.
After a few group photos, Mark feels a poke inside his mind - ósanwe, the telepathy form of the Internet. It's from Maedhros, who was re-embodied in the 1960s and allowed to leave for Middle-Earth to keep his brother company. Maedhros also came with a message - that for his valor, Fingolfin was released from Mandos first, and had chosen to reincarnate as human rather than be re-embodied. It was a severe rejection of the Valar and the Laws, to return to Middle-Earth but this time as human; Fëanor and Finarfin would eventually follow, but it would take more time for Fëanor's soul to re-enter the world. Maglor had not been deliberately seeking them, but he also wasn't surprised when the nerdy professor he'd fallen in love with a few years ago had very vivid dreams of life as a blond elf. Maedhros was even less surprised, and is still embarrassingly overenthusiastic about the reunion. Indeed, it is that enthusiasm that Mark feels now, across their bond.
Did you do the thing yet? Maedhros shouts into his mind. Did you? Did you?
Mark rolls his eyes and conceals a fond chuckle. Not yet. We're still at the Rocky Balboa statue. It will be a bit.
OH, ROCKY, Maedhros yells, echoing Sören's joke.
Mark's lips quirk. I see you quiver with antici-
And then, Mark's attention is caught by Anthony doing some stretches, like he's warming up before exercise. It takes Mark a few seconds for it to register. He glances up at the famous Rocky Steps - the statue is at the bottom - and then over at Anthony. Anthony runs a couple times a week - though it's more a form of stimming than a concern for fitness, with Anthony being such a nerd - but even so, there's a difference between taking a jog around the block and running up seventy-two steps.
Anthony's eyes meet Mark's. Mark cocks his head to one side, puts a hand on his hip, and raises an eyebrow. "You're gonna do the stairs?"
Anthony nods. He takes a swig of water from his bottle, then hands it to Sören. "I mean, I'm not as young as I used to be, the arthritis is starting, but I can take it."
Mark isn't so sure, but he knows that when one of the Finwioni puts their mind to something, you get the hell out of their way.
Anthony takes a few more minutes to stretch and at last he takes a deep breath, narrows his eyes, and charges. Mark and Sören stand close together, watching as Anthony lopes up the steps - about halfway through Anthony slows down a little, breathing harder, and Mark feels a brief twinge of concern that Anthony isn't going to make it and will be in a bad mood later, or possibly even injure himself, but Anthony keeps going and at last he makes it to the top of the stairs and raises both his arms in victory. Mark and Sören raise theirs in response, and Sören jumps up and down, clapping, his face lit up. Anthony grins back and that smile is everything; Mark's stomach flutters.
"The view up here is great," Anthony says, looking around before his eyes meet Mark's.
Mark does some stretches and then it's his turn, running up the steps effortlessly, in less time than it took for Anthony - but Mark has a stronger constitution, and for a middle-aged human Anthony did quite well, Mark is proud of him. When Mark reaches the top of the steps he also raises both arms and Sören cheers from the bottom of the stairs.
But even though Sören is smiling, Mark can see a wistfulness in his eyes, and Mark feels a pang of guilt, knowing Sören has lingering fatigue and neuropathy and shortness of breath from long COVID. Mark has been worried about Sören feeling like a third wheel, and he knows moments like this Sören probably does feel left out, with his physical limitations.
Once again, Mark finds himself wishing all three of them were together, but even though Maglor and Finarfin were in a group relationship with Fëanor and Fingolfin in the past, that was then and this is now, and Mark and Anthony have never discussed polyamory; Mark gets the impression that because Western society trends monogamous, Anthony isn't open to it, and Mark is afraid to ask otherwise and potentially rock the boat and make Anthony feel insecure or jealous. The Doom already tore them from each other once before, and it would be just like Manwë for them to lose each other again in conflict. But that doesn't change the fact that Mark cares deeply for the young Icelander, and in moments like this he wants to scoop Sören into his arms and rain kisses over his face, assuring him that he's not weak or a coward, or...
And then Sören gets that same look of determination in his eyes that Anthony had - that same very Finwion do-it-or-die-trying look. Sören starts to stretch.
"Sören no," Anthony and Mark call out in unison, but what Mark has to stop himself from saying is Fëanor no.
Mark has had quite a few moments of wondering if Sören is Fëanor, especially when looking at Sören's art, or seeing Sören get fired up in rage over politics. But now more than ever, as he watches Sören's eyes blazing as Sören runs up the first few stairs, Mark is reminded of Fëanor... particularly Fëanor's last stand in the Balrog ambush.
Sören stops being able to run after the twelfth step, gasping for breath. Mark instinctively runs down the stairs to join him. Sören's eyes widen with surprise and Mark looks around and notices a couple other people are staring at him in his display of strength and stamina. But Mark's twinge of concern for being obviously different in public is quickly thrown aside to look after Sören.
"You OK?" Mark asks.
Sören nods. "I want to get to the top of the stairs," he wheezes, "but I can't run them."
Anthony calls down, "Sören, it's OK if you can't -"
Sören glares at him. "I'mma do this."
Mark tries not to laugh, even as he aches at that very Fëanor-like response. When Sören catches his breath, he takes Sören's hand.
That touch isn't just to reassure him, but to push energy at him, giving him a little boost of strength. "You can do it," Mark says. "I believe in you." And that isn't mere encouragement, but Mark uses the power of his voice - the power of the Song - to will this into being, that Sören will make it to the top of the stairs.
When Sören reaches the top step, he throws both arms in the air and Mark and Anthony do so as well, then Anthony hugs him tight and Mark hugs them both. "You did it," Anthony says, grinning. "I'm proud of you."
Sören smirks. "Hi Proud Of You, I'm -"
Anthony groans and gives him a noogie, and then they have a long moment where they look into each other's eyes, smiling, and if Mark didn't know better he would think they were about to kiss.
In addition to wondering if Sören is Fëanor, he's also wondered if Sören has feelings for Anthony - which would make sense if he is who Mark suspects he is - and here and now it seems almost obvious. Mark feels a wistful ache, wanting to push them at each other and tell them to kiss. But he doesn't want to make things weird and potentially ruin their road trip, or cause longer-term problems.
And yet, exercising caution and restraint doesn't make feelings go away, and as they walk down the stairs together - Mark and Anthony on either side of Sören, each taking him by the hand, pausing every few steps to let Sören rest and breathe - Mark's body tingles at the proximity of Sören, just their palms and fingers touching is making him hard and wet, wanting both of them, his mind's eye burning with delicious threesome fantasies. It seems especially poignant that they're here in the City of Brotherly Love, so close and yet so far.
They sit for awhile to recover, and then they stop at a food truck for cheesesteak sandwiches. One of Mark's favorite things about the modern world is all the different types of foods available now; Mark's memories of medieval times or even earlier are still fresh. He keeps those thoughts to himself, but he never takes good food for granted...
...or sharing it with people he loves, basking in the golden hour before sunset.
Their next destination is the Liberty Bell. Sören starts singing "Ring My Bell" by Anita Ward, and Mark sings along - and by the way Sören shakes his ass as he sings, Mark wonders if Sören does indeed have feelings and is flirting.
Which makes him feel guilty for what he's about to do next. What he came here to do.
It's a short walk from the Liberty Bell to Love Park, named for Robert Indiana's iconic LOVE sculpture. The sun is setting now in pretty shades of lavender and pink. After more individual selfies and a group photo, Mark hands Anthony's cell phone to Sören and asks, "Can you take one of us together?"
Sören nods.
Mark takes a deep breath. Just before Anthony can put an arm around him for the photo, Mark quickly takes a step back and reaches into his pocket for the small ring box. Then he drops to one knee, opens the box, and holds it out, letting Anthony see the pair of engagement rings inside.
"Will you marry me?" Mark asks, heart pounding.
Sören snaps a photo.
Anthony's eyes widen, his mouth opens, and then he nods. And nods. And keeps nodding. His hands fly to cover his mouth and he makes a strangled noise, and then he throws his arms around Mark and yells, "YES," and Mark laughs with relief and joy. He slips the engagement ring sized for Anthony's finger onto his hand, then puts on his own engagement ring. Anthony pulls Mark up to his feet and they hug each other tight, twirling around, laughing and crying. Sören takes more photos and then Sören calls out, "Congrats, you guys!"
Mark glances over - Sören's eyes are too bright and he has a pained smile on his face, and while Mark's empathic powers are strong, he can't tell if Sören is choked up and happy for them, or if he's feeling like a third wheel and it's a painful reminder of Sören's own struggles with dating... or perhaps a bit of both. Mark once again feels that pang of guilt, and he quickly gestures for Sören to come over. They both hug him, and then Anthony smiles at Sören and says, "Want to be our best man?"
"Of course," Sören says. "So long as I don't have to wear a tux."
Mark shakes his head. Though he thinks Sören would clean up nicely in a tuxedo, he's not into wearing suits or tuxedos either - it's bad enough they'll have to wear suits for one event in DC. "Nah."
"I think we just want to have a simple ceremony anyway, nothing too fancy? Like getting married in front of a justice of the peace?" Anthony raises an eyebrow at Mark, who nods vehemently - something big and fancy is too much of a reminder of the royal court, something neither he nor his father enjoyed.
Then Mark feels Maedhros poking him telepathically again.
Is it done? You popped the ques -
...pation, Mark says.
"Ow. Bugger. Fuck. Bloody hell. Ow."
Mark's lips quirk as Anthony walks into the small RV bedroom with a towel around his waist, hair damp and mussed, chest hair glistening. Anthony is scowling and limping just a little - Mark knows he overdid with running up the seventy-two Rocky Steps - but then Anthony's frown fades and his eyes widen in surprise as he looks at Mark with just a sheet pulled up to his waist, and LED candles and lanterns lit around the bedroom, a string of fairy lights glowing above the headboard. There is a bottle of chilled Cristal champagne and two fluted glasses... and a bowl of warm oil next to them.
Anthony's eyebrows go up and then his face breaks into that grin Mark loves. Anthony laughs. "Oh myyyyy."
"I figured you would be sore after your run and could use a massage," Mark says, and then his voice is husky as he adds, "And we could celebrate."
Anthony lets the towel drop to the floor and Mark pulls down the sheet to reveal his own nakedness. Anthony climbs onto the bed and Mark pulls him into his arms and they kiss deeply.
As their tongues swirl and flutter and Mark's hands slide down Anthony's chest and back up, enjoying the feel of his chest hair, Mark is tempted to just start rutting with him, but he went to all this trouble for a sensual, romantic evening. They pull apart, breathing harder, and Mark reaches for the champagne.
When their glasses are poured, Mark raises his. "To our future," Mark says softly.
"To our future," Anthony says, and they clink glasses.
Mark looks at his engagement ring, and Anthony's - each a white gold Celtic spiral band set with a labradorite, since they have ethical reservations about diamonds - and then Anthony says what Mark is thinking. "So this means business. You're really not going to run."
Mark shakes his head. Mark has been honest with Anthony about the way his immortality has complicated his life - including having to move around once every fifteen to twenty years because he doesn't age, and glamouring his appearance to look older is a lot of work... and he has to make a new identity each and every time, leaving the old identity and its connections behind to avoid risking his secret being exposed. The American government discovered Mark's secret in the 1960s and since then his moves have been financed by the CIA, with ironclad documents designed to withstand the most rigorous background check, but that doesn't change the fact that he is still obligated to keep moving and be careful about people, places and things. It's a lonely way to live; seeing the world is only fun when it's by choice and not having his hand forced.
And, Mark had been single for a very long time, growing weary of partners succumbing to illness or mortal injury when life was shorter and more fragile before medical advancements, or having to leave them behind to avoid risk of exposure. When Anthony had COVID before the vaccines came out, Mark thought about Anthony's mortality and there was a fraught few months when Anthony thought Mark was going to leave. But this ring is a promise that wherever Mark goes in the future, Anthony is coming with him. As much as it will hurt to watch Anthony grow old and die - Anthony is forty-two now, and that likely won't be for at least another three to four decades but that's nothing in the lifespan of an Elf... Mark knows it will hurt more to leave to avoid watching the decline and break Anthony's heart, and always be wondering "what if".
"You're stuck with me," Mark says, and takes a sip of his champagne.
Anthony grins again. "Good."
Mark's free hand reaches out to touch Anthony's face. Anthony leans into Mark's touch, then takes Mark's hand and kisses it.
They start kissing again, not able to help themselves, kissing again and again, deep and hungry. Then they kiss open-mouthed, tongues licking together playfully - a reminder of what they can do with those tongues. Anthony kisses along Mark's jaw, licks up the shell of his ear, nibbles on the pointy tip and sucks on it, knowing from years of experience how sensitive Mark is there - a shiver goes down Mark's spine as his cunt twinges and he hears himself moan despite their rule to keep it down with Sören being just feet away out in the RV's living room in the jackknife bed.
Two can play the teasing game. After another fierce, hot kiss and their tongues lashing again, Mark starts kissing and licking Anthony's neck, breathing in the woodsy, masculine scent of his shaving cream and shower gel. Anthony groans and trembles - his hand shakes and spills champagne down Mark's chest.
"Oops," Anthony says. He smirks and steals a kiss, and then he licks a long, slow sensual trail down Mark's neck and throat to where the champagne spilled over Mark's right pec and nipple. "Don't want any of this expensive champagne to go to waste now." With that, Anthony's tongue laps at Mark's hard nipple, rubbing it into a long, thick, swollen, aching peak. Mark throws his head back, breath ragged, wanting Anthony so fiercely it hurts. Mark gives a soft cry as Anthony draws the nub into his mouth, suckling greedily, looking up at Mark to watch his reactions with lust in his eyes. "Mmmm, delicious." Anthony deliberately spills champagne over Mark's left pec and nipple, and gives it the same treatment, tongue rubbing and rubbing, then sucking it hard.
Mark was playing with himself while Anthony was in the shower - stopping before he could come - and now he needs to up the ante even more. When Anthony kisses him again, sharing the taste of champagne, Mark guides Anthony's hand between his legs and Anthony gives a grunt of appreciation as he feels how hard and wet Mark is already.
"I bet I know what would make the champagne taste even better," Mark says, feeling naughty. He puts his glass of champagne in Anthony's hand, then he rises up on his knees and scoots over and parts his thighs, aiming so his cunt drips cream into the glass of champagne. Anthony growls and Mark almost comes just from that growl, so ready for him, wet and wanting.
After a few more drops of cream drip into the champagne, Mark takes his glass from Anthony, dips his tongue in it, and then their tongues are teasing again as Mark shares the mixture of his pussy juices and champagne. Anthony groans and they kiss deeply, savoring.
"Here," Mark says, taking Anthony's glass of champagne. "Trade you."
Mark sips at the glass of champagne as he watches Anthony drink the champagne mixed with his cream, a blissful look on his face. Mark's cunt is so hot and wet, almost unbearably urgent, the sexual tension building and building as Anthony tastes him with each swallow. At last Anthony puts the empty glass aside, takes Mark's own empty glass, and then he kisses Mark passionately and gently pushes him back against the pillows. "Still thirsty," Anthony rasps, kissing and licking Mark's neck, kissing and licking his way down Mark's body, hands sliding, making Mark quiver and tingle at his touch.
Anthony rubs his nose in Mark's thick dark bush, breathing in his scent, and Mark is almost undone - he feels more cream dripping down his thighs. Anthony takes a deep breath and then he dives in, slowly licking up and down the nub of Mark's cock, tongue lightly fluttering the tip peeking out through the hood. He kisses it, sipping at Mark's juices, and laps some more, making streamers with his tongue. His lips latch onto it, sucking in earnest, bobbing his head up and down like he's sucking a cis cock, Mark's little cock gliding in and out of Anthony's mouth. Mark's nails dig into Anthony's shoulders. "Daddy," he moans, already so close. Anthony groans and sucks harder, faster.
"Daddy," Mark pants, arching to him. It was a game Maglor liked to play long ago - Finarfin and Fingolfin were both Atya to Maglor, and in a kinky, debauched role reversal, Maglor, Fingolfin and Finarfin were all Fëanor's "daddies", sharing the domination and discipline of Fëanor. Anthony is a natural daddy dom in this lifetime too, taking care of his boy, which started before Mark revealed his non-human nature. "Daddy. Daddy..."
"Mmmmmmm." Anthony mashes his face into Mark's cunt and shakes his head back and forth, sucking furiously, and Mark's nails rake Anthony's shoulders.
Mark is about to come, and through the haze of his pleasure - not ever wanting Anthony to stop - his desire to serve takes over; he had gone to all the trouble of getting this set up to help Anthony recover from his run. "Daddy, I want to take care of you."
Anthony's eyes widen and he stops with a reluctant little sigh, licks his lips to savor Mark's cream, and then he comes up, letting Mark taste himself in a kiss. Then Anthony reaches for the duffel bag they keep next to the bed, which has their toys. Anthony pulls out Mark's collar - black leather with an O-ring - and a matching black leather leash. Mark lowers his head reverently as Anthony fits the collar around his neck and clips the leash through, and tugs on the leash as they kiss again.
Anthony wraps the leash around his left hand and lays on his stomach. Mark takes the bowl of warm oil and pours oil over Anthony's shapely back, then straddles Anthony's ass and rubs Anthony's shoulders and back, going back and forth between firm kneading and rolling, and caressing in slow, sensual circles. Anthony makes a purring noise. "That's nice," Anthony husks.
Mark smiles. "I love you."
"I love you too." Anthony gives the leash a playful yank. "You're a good boy."
Mark's cunt throbs - he has a kink for being called "good boy", and Anthony knows it. Mark leans down and continues caressing Anthony's back, this time brushing his fingers up and down Anthony's spine, kissing here, licking there, making Anthony moan and sigh with pleasure. Mark's lust burns even hotter but he makes himself focus on Anthony, knowing the release will be well worth the wait.
Mark kneads the knots in Anthony's thighs and calves, and Anthony flexes his fingers and toes like a content cat. Mark rubs Anthony's ass, working the muscles there too, and when he's ready for Anthony to turn over he gives Anthony's left ass cheek a little nibble, making them both laugh just before Mark pats his ass.
Anthony lays on his back and Mark pours oil over Anthony's chest and stomach. He leans in to give Anthony a kiss, then rises up again, and Anthony holds the leash, looking up at Mark with love in his eyes as Mark's hands stroke Anthony's shoulders and arms, then up and down his chest and stomach, down one thigh and calf and up the other. He takes a few moments to massage Anthony's feet, and Anthony lets out a deep groan as the tension melts out of his feet. "God, you're good."
"I like taking care of my Daddy," Mark says, stroking Anthony's legs some more, enjoying the feel of Anthony's body hair. The hairiness of Men is something Mark definitely has a kink for, and he loves how masculine Anthony is - T has been very kind to him. Especially with the bottom growth; Anthony is aroused enough that his little t-dick is jutting out, almost the size of a thumb, glistening wet like delicious juicy fruit. Mark wants to suck on it, but even more than that he wants to feel that cock rubbing against his, until they both come.
Mark straddles Anthony's left calf and starts to rub his pussy up and down Anthony's leg, ever so slowly. Anthony grunts and Mark groans, trying not to come right away. He slides up to Anthony's thigh and grinds against Anthony's thigh. Anthony moans and Mark's hands play up and down Anthony's chest and stomach, needing to keep touching him, lavishing love on him.
Mark does the same with Anthony's right calf and thigh, rubbing his cunt up and down, back and forth, in circles. Then he grinds against Anthony's stomach. Feeling mischievous, he works his way up Anthony's torso, rubbing slowly, slowly, and at last his cock rubs against Anthony's right nipple and Anthony lets out a soft cry. Though Anthony has lost a lot of nipple sensitivity post-top-surgery, Mark knows Anthony is watching cock on nipple - and Anthony's nipples do get harder and Mark thrills to the feel of it, the way their bodies fit together. Anthony moans, and Mark feels those flutters, so close to climax, making himself hold back.
"Like what you see, Daddy?" Mark asks.
Anthony nods and hisses through clenched teeth. "Fuckkkk."
Mark scoots over and rubs against Anthony's left nipple, side to side, swirls and circles. Anthony gives another little cry and Mark shudders, fighting back his release. Mark keeps rubbing and rubbing, it feels so good he doesn't want to stop, but when they've both had enough, Mark climbs down and kisses Anthony. With a growl, Anthony shoves Mark onto his back and moves between Mark's legs. Mark's pulse races, thighs quivering with need, the moment electric. Mark kisses him back, and his breath hitches as Anthony rises up, propping Mark's right leg onto his shoulder.
Both men gasp as their cunts align, and then despite his soreness post-run Anthony lets Mark have it, rocking his hips furiously, cunt slapping cunt, cock rubbing cock. Anthony holds onto the leash, gently pulling on it to subtly assert his ownership, his dominance. Mark bucks his hips, matching Anthony's rhythm, needing to fuck and be fucked, losing himself in that primal, animal instinct to rut with his mate. They're both panting, trying not to moan and scream, but the filthy wet suctioning sound of their pussies rubbing together gets louder and louder, driving them both wild, Anthony slamming away as hard and fast as he can.
"Daddy," Mark breathes, pleading with his eyes, signaling he's almost there, cock teasing cock just right, lost in pleasure. "Daddy. Daddy, Daddy..."
Anthony growls and tugs the leash. "Come."
Mark gives into his climax, letting out a shuddery gasp of "Daddy" as his orgasm pulses, shimmering waves of relief and euphoria. Anthony cries out and Mark feels Anthony contracting and gushing, and Mark squirts too, not able to help the little whimper as a big, deep contraction hits. Anthony gives a satisfied groan and sinks down. Mark throws his arms around him and they kiss deeply, tangled up together, looking into each other's eyes and smiling blissfully, two hearts beating as one.
Anthony rests his head on Mark's shoulder and the roaring release ebbs into sweet, floaty peace. Then Mark feels a tiny twinge of concern, hoping Sören has fallen asleep and didn't hear them - they tried to keep it down but could only do so much. Then the concern rolls away as Mark basks in that warm glow of contentment, and then Mark hears Sören gasp from the RV living room and his eyes open.
A couple minutes later Mark hears Sören crying - muffled into his pillow, but Mark's hearing is very sensitive. The concern intensifies, wondering if Sören had a nightmare, knowing Sören is nightmare-prone thanks to PTSD. But Mark's body feels like it's made of jelly and he lays there instead of getting up to open the door and see if Sören is OK.
Anthony exhales.
"Do you hear that?" Mark mumbles, trying to prompt Anthony to go check on Sören.
Anthony responds with a tiny snore.
Mark rolls his eyes and can't help smiling a little, once again amused by Anthony dozing off after sex, even though he feels guilty for taking amusement when Sören is out there in distress. But eventually Sören quiets down, and when Mark hears Sören snoring too, he closes his eyes and lets himself drift.
