Chester's Lone Star Barbecue is a fictional restaurant.
TW for homophobic NPC and use of the f-slur, because it's Texas.
_
When I was just a little boy
Standin' to my Daddy's knee
My Papa said "Son, don't let the man get you
And do what he done to me?
'Cause he'll get you
'Cause he'll get ya now, now"
Well, I can remember the Fourth of July
Runnin' through the backwood bay
I can still hear my old hound dog barkin'
Chasin' down a hoodoo there
Chasin' down a hoodoo there
Born on the bayou
Anthony smiles - and swoons a little at Maglor's powerful voice, echoing across the swamp.
It's another muggy summer day, and they're in New Orleans. Yesterday they spent the day taking the streetcar and walking around the French Quarter and the Garden District, then in the evening they went on a sightseeing cruise on the Mississippi River as a jazz band played and they ate Creole-inspired food. Today they're kayaking on a swamp, surrounded by large cypress trees covered in Spanish moss.
It's easy to see why New Orleans has such a reputation for witchcraft - the bog has a somewhat ominous, haunted feel to it. Anthony thinks about folklore of swamp monsters and bog creatures, and then he smiles to himself as he looks into Mark's silver eyes.
"What?" Mark stops singing and narrows his eyes.
Anthony's smile becomes a grin. "I'm here with my very own cryptid."
Mark sticks out his tongue. Anthony speaks into his mind: Don't stick that tongue out at me unless you plan on using it.
Mark's response is to waggle his tongue like Gene Simmons, which makes Anthony laugh so hard he almost drops an oar, and tightens his grip.
"Yeah, that's it," Mark says with a smirk, incorrigible. "Stroke that paddle."
Maybe I should paddle your cockteasing arse later.
Now Mark is the one to grin, as he belts out the chorus of an old Billy Squier song.
Stroke me, stroke me
Could be a winner boy you move mighty well
Stroke me, stroke me
[Stroke]
Stroke me, stroke me
You got your number down
Stroke me, stroke me
Say you're a winner but man, you're just a sinner now
Then Mark waggles his eyebrows, and Anthony laughs even harder. He loves Mark's playful moments - and he seems to be having more of those lately, which makes Anthony wonder if the Doom is over or close to it - and the thought of Maglor, an elven prince, behaving in a most undignified manner, makes it even funnier to him.
Reflexively, Anthony glances over at one of the other kayaks, full of strangers and Sören. He'd worried that Sören's lack of stamina from long COVID made the kayak tour a bad idea, but the tour guides and some of the stronger men and women are paddling, while Sören takes a rest.
While Mark has seemed happier as of late, Sören seems... sadder. Anthony can't quite put his finger on it, but he feels that twinge of concern again as Sören notices him looking and flashes him a quick and forced-seeming smile. He knows Sören had a traumatic childhood and struggles with depression and anxiety, but humor and silliness is one of the ways Sören copes and since the trip began in June it seems like Sören is withdrawn more - still able to joke and banter sometimes, but not like he used to. Staring off into space a lot - he's doing it now, looking out at the cypress trees - and quietly brooding. Anthony wonders if he's just reading too much into body language and facial expressions, and he knows he feels guilt for his happiness with Mark while Sören is still single...
...and he feels like a coward for continuing to keep his feelings for Sören to himself, not telling Mark - not taking the chance that Maglor would understand - and definitely not telling Sören, fearing rejection.
He doesn't want to project his guilt onto Sören and read sorrow that may not be there. And yet, as he watches Sören look down, frowning slightly, he can't help but think Sören is suffering in some way.
Anthony casually tests the waters once the kayaking adventure is done and they're off to get some gumbo. "You OK?"
Sören raises an eyebrow. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Oh, you know. You seemed kinda down on the kayak. I know you're probably just exhausted, but I wanted to make sure it wasn't something else. You can talk to me about stuff if anything is upsetting you, like... the news... or... stuff." Anthony wishes he was less awkward and more articulate about this - he's a professor, he gives lectures sometimes, sesquipedalian ones, even - but this is too close to the heart.
"I'm fine," Sören says, and gives that little pained smile before his face returns to its default serious expression and he looks off to the side.
You're not fine. But Anthony keeps that thought to himself and says only, "OK. Well, if that changes, I mean it. You can tell me things." He puts an arm around Sören and gives him a squeeze, even though it makes him ache for more, feels like torture to touch the one he cannot have. "You're my best friend."
"Jæja." Sören swallows hard and takes his hand for the briefest instant - an eternity of agony. "Best friends. Forever." He smiles again, but it doesn't meet his eyes.
Anthony smiles back, though he's definitely forcing the smile, hoping he didn't say or do anything wrong. Hoping it's nothing serious.
When they began planning their itinerary, there was a debate whether or not to visit Texas at all, for the same reason that they had concerns about visiting Florida. But since Dallas is considered to be fairly liberal by Texas standards, they decided they could at least take a stop in Dallas on their way westward.
They arrive in Dallas in the evening and spend the night in an RV park. In the morning they go to the WWII Museum, which is the return of a more pensive Mark, when Anthony has just gotten used to him being more light-hearted. Anthony knows why: Maglor was there for WWII, fighting with the Allies, glamouring his ears, hiding his vagina. He was there for WWI. He was there for the Civil War. He was there for the American Revolution. He was there for wars that happened in far-off lands in ancient times. Mark dodged Vietnam, however.
But Mark has seen enough war that he carries it in his soul - especially WWII where there were horrors. He still insisted on going to the museum anyway, even though it makes an old wound start hurting again, enough so that even with Mark trying to shield himself Anthony can feel the ache empathically. When they leave the museum Anthony gives Mark a hug out in public, not caring if there's homophobes around who disapprove.
I liked killing Nazis, Mark speaks into Anthony's mind through ósanwe.
They deserved it, Anthony says back to him, also using ósanwe.
Even so. It bothers me that I have a taste for violence, even when it's the right people. "Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you."
Well, you are an eldritch cryptid. Anthony can't resist ribbing him a little, hoping it will help ease the tension.
Fuck you. But Mark smiles for the first time that morning, and his arms tighten around Anthony.
It's close to noon and scorching hot, and they decide to take a siesta for a couple hours in the RV with air conditioning. But as the afternoon wears on they get restless and it's time to get back out to see what they came to Dallas to see - Sören has his heart on seeing the Botanical Garden, as he still gets homesick for Akureyri and its own famous Botanical Garden.
First, though, they need to change into some clothes more appropriate for the intense heat: tank tops and shorts. When Anthony was still female-facing he didn't like wearing more revealing attire, being ashamed of his body, but he also lived in England where it's frequently cool and rainy. Since his transition he's more confident in himself - he often goes shirtless at Craig Beach back in Maine - and he likes being ogled by Mark... and ogling in return.
He can't help ogling Sören, either, even though his lust for Sören in a tank top and short shorts just makes the ache even worse.
Worse still as he notices Sören is ogling Mark too. Mark is either oblivious or too considerate of Anthony to respond in a noticeable way. Mark takes out their sunblock and he and Mark rub sunblock onto each other's shoulders and arms while Sören watches with hungry eyes. Despite the audience - or perhaps because of it - their touch is slow, languid, sensual, caressing each other, looking into each other's eyes as they take care of each other. Anthony gets hard and wet at the feel of Mark's hands on him, and the feel of Mark's strong muscles underneath his hands, and he resists the urge to pull Mark into the bedroom for a quickie.
After they've put sunblock on each other's shoulders and arms, Anthony turns around so Mark can put sunblock on the back of his neck and the part of his upper back exposed through the tank top. Mark nuzzles Anthony's neck and puts an arm around his waist, grinding a little against his ass as he works in the sunblock. "I still hope you get more freckles on your shoulders," Mark husks, and rubs his nose against Anthony's left shoulder, sending a shiver down Anthony's spine.
Anthony chuckles. "You are so weird." But he does enjoy Mark's lust.
Mark comes around, squirts sunblock onto his right index finger, and rubs sunblock onto Anthony's cheeks and nose. "Can't forget that cute little nose.'
Now it's Anthony's turn to say, "Fuck you," laughing harder, cheeks burning as his stomach flutters.
Sören takes the bottle of sunblock from them and applies it to his face and arms, and once again Anthony admires the full sleeve tattoos on Sören's arms. Then Sören frowns. "I can't get the back of me. Can one of you help?"
Mark takes the sunblock back from Sören but instead of stepping up, he hands it to Anthony. Now Anthony thinks Mark might not be oblivious to Sören staring at him like he's dessert and is doing the polite thing to not make Anthony jealous. Unfortunately, the gesture makes Anthony feel worse rather than better because now he has to be the one to touch Sören...
...and it's every bit the playing-with-fire that Anthony feared, if not worse.
Rubbing sunblock on Sören's shoulders, then the back of his neck and upper back, makes Anthony's cunt throb, feeling himself drip, aching at the proximity of Sören's body, the feel of him, fevered fantasies racing through his mind of undressing Sören and rubbing oil all over him, caressing, teasing, until Sören is writhing and panting with pleasure, begging to get fucked...
Stop that right now. Anthony can hear himself breathing harder, like some kind of pervert, though Sören's breath is a little ragged too.
When Sören turns around, he says, "Takk." His voice is breathier than usual and his face is flushed and his pupils are blown wide, and Anthony glances down and sees Sören's pierced nipples are hard through his tank top. For the briefest instant Anthony wonders if the attraction is mutual, but they've been friends for five years and Sören has never said anything so he doubts it. He's probably worked up over Mark... and I can't blame him for that. Even so, Anthony reflexively licks his lips at the sight of those hard nipples poking through the fabric of Sören's tank top, and he almost drops the sunblock like a hot potato as he takes a step back, electricity surging through his entire body, his own nipples hardening as he fights off yet another fantasy of sucking on those pierced nipples, rutting against Sören until they both come...
Mark clears his throat. "OK, let's go."
Both Mark and Sören have their hair up, as it's too hot for them not to - it's also too hot for Mark to expend energy glamouring his ears and Anthony knows Mark will tell any curious askers that his pointed ears are body mods like Grimes's pointy ears, and he knows Sören isn't going to ask about it even though he doesn't know that Mark isn't human, yet. As much as Anthony loves Sören and Mark's hair, they still look good with their hair up; Maglor in booty shorts is both a welcome distraction from the Sören-pining and yet more torture. Anthony feels like he's going to explode from sexual tension. Then as they step out of the RV into the stifling Texas heat, Anthony can't think at all, and he wonders why anyone would voluntarily live in this part of the country.
Once they're at the Botanical Garden, they stop at one of the frozen orange juice carts and then they head over to the Shakespeare monument with old-fashioned wild roses that bloom year-round - and, just as importantly, shade. Sören has brought his tablet with him and he shyly asks Mark and Anthony to pose side-by-side; they oblige and he sketches them.
It's the first time Anthony has seen Sören work on art since the road trip started. He knows that they've been busy and Sören has low energy on a good day, but Sören managed to doodle on his tablet even when he was so sick with COVID that Anthony and Mark came over to take care of him, and realizing that Sören hasn't touched his tablet in weeks adds to Anthony's concern that something is wrong and Sören is having a hard time with mental health and not talking about it. But watching Sören sketch with his stylus, an intense look of concentration on his face, gives Anthony a glimmer of hope - and a wave of relief. Maybe things are looking up for his best friend, just a little.
When Sören needs to take a break, they walk through the gardens and Anthony thinks of Valinor, and all that they've lost - Mark is pensive again and Anthony knows he's likely thinking of it too, especially when Mark takes his hand and squeezes. At the Lay Family Garden there's a koi pond and a waterfall and that hits Anthony especially hard, thinking about Finarfin's secret trysts at Alqualondë.
And then Mark shoots him a smirk and speaks into his mind with ósanwe again. Lay Family, eh?
Anthony gets the joke, facepalms and shakes with silent laughter. Yes, very appropriate.
Sören wants to resume sketching them, and Anthony and Mark oblige, needing to take a rest from walking in the overpowering heat. This time Anthony doesn't just feel relief that Sören is making art again, but admiration... which makes him ache even more. Sören's art is one of the things Anthony loves about him - so much heart and soul goes into it - and Anthony feels touched that Sören wants to make art of them, even in tank tops and booty shorts. Once again he wonders if maybe Sören fancies him - hoping - and this is a way of perving on them. That thought gives him a little thrill, but he tells himself over and over again He doesn't like you that way. You've been friends for five years, don't ruin your friendship - or your relationship with Mark - by getting your hopes up to the point where you let something slip.
And yet... as he watches Sören move his stylus over the tablet, poking his tongue out with concentration, brow furrowed, and he can practically see the fire of creation dancing in Sören's mind's eye, a frisson goes through him as if he's watching a force of nature. The same feeling he gets when he listens to Mark sing and play music.
A feeling deeper than love.
They buy more frozen orange juice before they leave the Botanical Garden, but they're still a sweaty mess. They've sweated off most of their sunblock, so they head back to the RV to freshen up a bit and reapply sunblock, since it's still hot enough to warrant shorts and tank tops. Once again, Sören asks for help with getting the sunblock on, and Anthony tells Mark, "I did it last time so it's your turn." What he doesn't say is that touching Sören's bare skin - like a caress, with rubbing in the sunblock - was exquisite torture and he doesn't think he can survive more of that.
And then he wishes he hadn't. He doesn't know which is worse - the sexual frustration as he rubbed sunblock on the man he loves and can't have, or watching Mark do it and feeling both sexual frustration and jealousy all at once. He watches Sören tremble to Mark's touch, his nipples hardening again, and he quietly seethes, See? Mark's the one he wants. Anthony considers telling them they can take the bedroom tonight and he'll sleep on Sören's jackknife bed, but he reins in that impulse, if only because he's too tempted to ask if he can at least watch.
Mark, to his credit, is a gentleman and applies the sunblock in a methodical, clinical way, though Anthony notices Mark is breathing a little harder too, and when Mark comes back over Anthony notices Mark's nipples are also hard and he catches a whiff of the familiar scent of Mark's arousal. Every fiber of his being is screaming to bite the bullet and initiate a threesome, but they're not even halfway through their trip and he doesn't want to make things weird when they'd planned this so carefully for months.
Fuck.
They're having dinner tonight at Chester's Lone Star Barbecue, which prides itself on being "the best in Texas". Not having barbecue in Texas feels about as wrong as not being able to buy weed at the Willie Nelson Store in Nashville.
There's no dress code at the restaurant - thankfully, in this heat - and there are plenty of people waiting in line wearing shorts and tank tops or crop tops like they are. But Anthony still feels a twinge of anxiety that he can't quite put his finger on. He tells himself that it's his British middle-class upbringing, and while he's gotten used to casual clothes at casual restaurants this is the most informally he's ever been dressed out to dinner. But that feeling of something being off carries with him into the blissfully air-conditioned restaurant, and lingers in the back of his mind over refreshing cold lemonade and savory ribs.
When they're done with their meal and paid, the last touch of fire from sunset is in the air, fading to mellow blue twilight. It's still hotter than Anthony would like but not as terrible as a few hours ago. It's cooled down enough that Anthony isn't in a huge rush to get back to the RV and more air-conditioning, and he walks slowly through the parking lot... pausing to take Mark's hand and enjoy the final fading of the light... enjoy sharing this beautiful moment with the man he's going to spend his life with.
Suddenly there's a gruff male voice a few feet behind them. "HEY!"
They turn around. There's a very tall, beefy guy - much bigger than them, and muscle-bound - with a ruddy face, jar ears, and a buzz cut, wearing an olive tank top and camo cargo pants. Could be a Marine, could be a skinhead, hard to tell. All Anthony knows is the guy looks like trouble - while Dallas is the most liberal part of Texas and they came here for that reason, there's still a higher-than-average number of bigots in the state. And Anthony can tell by the wrath in the man's cold blue eyes that they're looking right at one.
Sören was behind them, and so now he's ahead of them. The man walks forward and Anthony watches Sören's fists clench, not backing away. He thinks about getting between the guy and Sören, or shoving Sören out of the way, but his entire body feels frozen, his heart beating faster.
"I don't like your kind around here," the man snarls.
Mark folds his arms. "What kind would that be? Elves?"
Maglor is telling the truth, but of course nobody but Anthony knows that or needs to know that. The man doesn't even laugh at the attempt to defuse the situation. He comes closer. "You fags, holdin' hands in public, in front of children -"
"Jæja, 'think of the children'. I was raised by fundies who thought the same way but actual child abuse was totally OK with them. Most of you who think there's a pedo behind every tree are one yourselves," Sören scoffs, his voice shaking.
While Anthony is fiercely proud of Sören for saying something to stand up for them, he knows those words just poured gasoline on the fire. There's three of them and one of the asshole but something tells Anthony the larger man can hold his own. To make things worse, there are some other guys watching in the parking lot, who look ominous. Anthony realizes now where that bad feeling came from in the restaurant - his intuition was going off, warning him that someone homophobic was watching them.
"You callin' me a pedo, faggot?" The man marches towards Sören and takes a swing.
Just before the man's fist can connect with Sören's body, Anthony unfreezes and pulls Sören out of the way. Then, holding onto him, he takes a few more paces back. And then Mark punches the guy in the stomach, and once he doubles over, Mark makes an uppercut. The guy howls in pain and staggers backwards, almost falling over.
"No, but I'm calling you a coward, afraid of two men holding hands in public," Mark says.
"We'll see who's afraid when I call the po-lice," the man hollers, reaching for his cell phone in his pants pocket.
An androgynous-looking person with glasses dressed in a blank tank top and black cargo shorts jogs over from between a red Volkswagen and a blue Ford pickup. "I saw everything, I'll distract him so he can't get your plates. Get out of here, run!"
Sören can't really run too well with long COVID but he sure tries, and Anthony and Mark drag him along. Anthony's heart is pounding in his ears, afraid that whatever their Good Samaritan has planned won't work or, even worse, they might get injured trying. Even though time is of the essence with getting out of there before the police are called, Anthony can't help but stop in his tracks just before he can get in the RV and look over. Their enby Good Samaritan is waving a rainbow handkerchief at the would-be assailant, yelling "Why are you so obsessed with gay people living their lives, huh? Are you afraid you're queer? Are you one of those queers? Are you? It's OK, you know. Say it with me: Queer. Queeeeeeeeeeeeeeeer."
Their asshole tears off with a strangled sob, as if he's somehow been exposed to kryptonite, and Anthony snorts before he ducks into the RV.
It's a tense few minutes as Mark gets them out of the parking lot and on the highway. "I think I'm gonna drive for a bit to get us a safe distance away," Mark says, glancing over at Anthony before he turns his attention back to the road.
Anthony nods. "That's fine with me." He looks over his shoulder at Sören, who looks shaken up. "You OK?"
"Jæja." Sören puts on his headphones and proceeds to zone out - he's not OK, but Anthony isn't going to press it.
Although no police have followed them since leaving the restaurant, Mark is paranoid enough about the remote possibility that the asshole got their plates that a little over an hour later, they cross the Oklahoma state border, and Mark drives them to an RV park in Thackerville.
After they've stretched their legs, Mark breaks out the weed - they all need it. They pass the pipe around as they listen to Pink Floyd, and then once the buzz is noticeably kicking in for all of them, Sören says, "I hope you guys won't take this the wrong way, but I need to call it an early night. Lots of walking around in the heat and now the adrenaline crash from..." His voice trails off.
Though he's rolling his r's adorably, Anthony feels a prickle of concern at Sören's accent being stronger, an audible sign of intense emotion. "Yeah, it was pretty scary tonight. I'm sorry about that." Anthony looks into Sören's brown eyes. "Are you having flashbacks about Einar?"
Sören nods. "I don't wanna talk about it. I just want to... forget."
"I hope I didn't scare you," Mark says, his tone somber.
"Oh no. You were awesome. You were... wow." And now Sören's voice is breathier and he's giving Mark a lovestruck look, and Anthony wants to crawl under the jackknife bed and die.
Mark turns ever so slightly pink, then he bows with a dramatic flourish, turns to Anthony and says, "OK, come on. You heard the guy, let's give him some space to unwind and rest."
"OK." Anthony gives Sören a quick hug, cursing the way his body responds to even that instant of Sören in his arms, Sören's body on his. The smell of Sören's sweat is making him horny. "I hope you sleep well." He tousles Sören's curls.
"You too, when you get there." Sören smirks. "Have fun."
Anthony drags Mark off, both mortified and also irrationally pleased and titillated that Sören has a good idea of what they're about to get up to.
But first... as Anthony starts undressing in the RV's small bedroom, he sniffs his own armpit and makes a face. "Good lord, I stink. I should take a shower."
"I mean, I won't stop you, but I... like it." Mark comes closer and also takes a sniff and rubs his nose in Anthony's armpit hair, tickling and arousing him all at once. He doesn't want to like Mark enjoying his body odor - it seems so rude - and yet that's part of the thrill. All the more thrilling as he fantasizes about smelling Sören the same way...
Mark goes on as he peels off his tank top. "However, I should take a shower. I feel like I need to slough my skin off after all of that mess back there at the restaurant." His shoulders heave with a deep sigh. "Especially because I liked punching him, and now I feel dirty. I feel like a violent monster -"
"No." Then Anthony blurts out the honest truth, emboldened by the buzz he has going. "You were hot."
Mark stands there for a moment blinking and Anthony worries he's said the wrong thing. Then Mark comes closer and purrs, "You liked seeing me get a bit rough, did you?"
Anthony nods, heart beating faster.
Mark moves his face in close enough to kiss. "Maybe we could get rough, together."
Anthony's cunt twinges. While he's a dominant top, he knows Mark is a switch - they've talked about it - and the thought of "fighting for dominance" with another man has been one of his fantasies since before he began transition, wrestling and flip-fucking...
Anthony and Mark undress each other, practically ripping each other's clothes off in the sudden, fierce heat between them. When they're both naked they kiss deeply, passionately, and run their hands over each other's naked bodies. They kiss open-mouthed, tongues teasing, as they play with each other - Mark is already hard and wet, and so is he, worked up enough that he almost comes under Mark's fingers.
As if they can read each other's minds and want the same thing, Mark gets out the oil while Anthony gets out one of their sheet protectors - which they usually reserve for watersports. Once the bed is made they tumble down to the bed together, kissing. Anthony reaches for the pump they keep by the bed, and he starts pumping himself as Mark licks his sweaty armpits - Anthony is surprised by how good it feels - and then works his way down, licking the sweaty chest hair and Anthony's sweat-damp bush, rubbing his nose in it, enjoying Anthony's scent. Anthony gets over feeling self-conscious about the body odor and relishes Mark's primal lust.
When Anthony is pumped up, his cock two and a half inches and almost painfully hard, he pumps up Mark as they kiss and rub their tongues together, his free hand caressing Mark's gorgeous body. Mark is about two inches when he's done pumping, his cock invitingly juicy and plump like a ripe berry. Anthony wants to suck on it, but even more than that, he wants to fuck it.
First - the oil. Once the pump is back off to the side, Mark grabs the bottle of oil and pours it over Anthony's chest and stomach. Then he straddles Anthony's chest, and after Anthony takes a few licks at the delicious-looking t-dick in his face, Mark scoots back and begins to rub Anthony down with the oil... using his own cunt.
Watching Mark grind his pussy in circles, up and down, side to side against his flesh is as erotic as feeling Mark's cunt lips kissing him, cock sliding like a finger. He groans with desire as Mark's cock teases one nipple, then the other. Mark pulls up and spreads so Anthony can see his boypussy slick with oil, then Mark sinks back down and continues grinding against Anthony's chest and stomach, working in the oil, making his sweat-sheened body glisten even more.
After Mark has rubbed down Anthony's torso, he oils Anthony's left arm and rubs himself up and down Anthony's arm and shoulder, then does the same with the right. Then he oils Anthony's right thigh and calf and grinds, smiling and giving Anthony a knowing look as Anthony gasps and trembles, almost undone by Mark's slippery cunt rubbing on his sensitive thigh. Mark pours oil over the left thigh and calf and rides it, moaning, playing with his own nipples as he grinds, putting on a luscious show. Anthony feels like he could climb the walls with urgent sexual need.
But now it's his turn to tease.
Anthony straddles Mark's shoulders but keeps his cunt just out of reach, spreading to show Mark the flowing juices... and Mark holds out his tongue and Anthony drips onto his tongue, which almost makes him come untouched. Then Anthony scoots back, pours oil over Mark's left shoulder and arm, and grinds against him, down Mark's arm and back up, enjoying the feel of Mark's hard bicep and tricep. He does the same with the right arm, rubbing himself slowly, sensually. He oils Mark's chest and grinds there too, teasing his cock on Mark's right nipple, then his left, back and forth between them, as Mark moans and Anthony watches Mark's right arm move, knowing Mark is playing with himself. Anthony reaches back and snatches Mark's hand away.
"Slut," Anthony says.
Mark smiles. "And yet, I bet I can make you come first."
"We'll see about that." Anthony oils Mark's stomach and starts rubbing against the planes of Mark's abs, while his thumbs rub Mark's hard, glistening nipples. Mark moans louder and arches to him, and Anthony pinches and tugs Mark's nipples for good measure before his thumbs brush and flick harder, faster.
Anthony rides Mark's left thigh and calf, then his right, circles, side to side. Mark can crack walnuts with those thighs and the feel of that hard steel pressing firmly into his mound almost sets him off, but he fights back his release.
Which gets much harder to do when their cunts finally kiss and Anthony feels Mark's cock on his. Both men cry out with pleasure and grab onto each other for dear life as they work their hips, wet pussies slapping together, cock teasing cock. The oil makes it even more slippery, with filthy sloppy smacking sounds as Anthony rides Mark hard. Squishing, suctioning sounds as Anthony's cock slips inside Mark's velvet cunt. The fire in Mark's eyes fuels his lust even hotter, losing himself in sensation, and worshiping Mark's gorgeous, oiled, sculpted body.
After a dozen thrusts Mark rolls Anthony onto his back and rides him, cock rubbing cock, and then Mark is inside Anthony. Anthony bites his lip and shudders, desperate not to give in and come right away. This really is a battle for dominance now, Mark's face determined as he rocks his hips and Anthony feels Mark's cock sliding in and out like a finger. Just before Anthony can lose control and climax, he grapples with Mark, shoving Mark onto his back and taking him, even as the feel of Mark's silken heat wrapped around him is too delicious and he knows he won't last much longer.
Especially with the euphoria of being inside another man with his own cock. He and Mark celebrating each other's maleness, fucking each other. Anthony is so far gone in the triumphant feeling of fucking another man, the desire for Mark's body, the luscious feeling of Mark's boypussy kissing his cock, the obscene sound of their oiled, creamy cunts fucking hard, that he doesn't even care about the noise. Then he wonders for an instant if Sören can hear them - and if Sören likes what he hears - and the thought of Sören masturbating to the sound of their sex makes him flutter. Not a full orgasm, but a warning that one is close.
Mark pins Anthony and slides into him again, kissing him passionately as his cock glides back and forth inside Anthony, then cock rubs cock for a few strokes before Mark takes him again. Cock in cunt, cock on cock, teasing, pleasing, until they're panting together, trembling against each other. Anthony needs to come, the tension about to shatter, and he rolls Mark and takes control again, their cocks rutting together, then his cock inside Mark as he plays with Mark's cock. He moves in for the kill, kissing and licking Mark's neck, then lapping and suckling at Mark's nipples, the V of his fingers squeezing Mark's cock as they move up and down.
And then their cocks are together again, mirroring the way their tongues are licking, open-mouthed. Mark's eyes widen and he kisses Anthony hard, crying out into the kiss as he contracts. The feel of Mark's cunt spasming and gushing against his sets Anthony off with a shuddery sigh, then a deep, primal grunt of satisfaction as he squirts into Mark's pussy. Mark cries out again, nails raking Anthony's back as he bucks and shivers and they keep pulsing together in the same rhythm, cock twitching against cock.
"Fuuuuuuuuuuckkkkk." Mark's face lights up with a beautiful smile, and Anthony smiles too.
"What was that about making me come first?" Anthony kisses the tip of Mark's nose.
Mark boops Anthony's nose in response. "How about two out of three, and whoever wins has to orally service the other, tomorrow?"
Anthony grins. "You're on."
But first, they hold each other, legs entwined. Savoring the closeness between them - the intimacy of honoring each other as male, in a world that seems increasingly bent on denying them that right. Us against the world, Anthony thinks to himself as he listens to Mark's heartbeat and thinks about the homophobe in Dallas - who would almost certainly have responded with greater violence if he knew they weren't just gay, but also trans.
And then he feels that ache again, because "us" is just the two of them, and he wants Sören to be a part of that so badly it hurts.
And he doesn't think he can last the rest of this trip without saying, doing something about it - at least trying, even if it costs him everything.
The question is: when? And how?