They are here in the place Mark has looked the most forward to seeing - Yellowstone is one of the very few places on the entire continent where Macalaurë Fëanorion has never been, in all of his wandering.
On their first day at Yellowstone, they drove through Lamar Valley to see the herds of bison, then visited Mammoth Hot Springs and the Grand Prismatic Spring. His own joy at the beauty of nature was intensified by watching Sören's exuberance at the bison wandering through the savannah into the mountains, and Sören's awe at the colors of the Grand Prismatic.
Now on their second day they're at Old Faithful, watching the geyser go off. Sören's seen geysers in Iceland - the word itself is from the Icelandic geysir, there are over twenty active geysers on the small island country - but Sören still claps and jumps and Mark finds his reaction adorable.
Anthony is a bit more reserved but his face is lit up with that smile Mark loves so much. And then Anthony gives him a mischievous little smirk and speaks into Mark's mind.
I bet I can make you gush like that geyser later.
Mark smirks back, and his cunt twinges, thinking about all the times Anthony has made him squirt, warming to the delicious memories. Yes, please.
Of course, Old Faithful can gush harder than Mark. It's one of the most impressive things Mark has ever seen in Middle-Earth and he's been around for thousands of years, but he's not too jaded to break out into gooseflesh, a frisson down his spine at the blasting font.
Once the geyser has calmed down until its next scheduled eruption, the three of them walk out to Morning Glory Pool. Even though it's not far from Old Faithful, it's also not the main attraction everyone is here to see, so it's not crowded - though the crowd was worth it to see something so amazing. The hot spring is amazing in a different way, a riot of yellow, orange, turquoise and green.
"It's so colorful," Sören says, doing a little happy dance.
Mark smiles indulgently. "Like you!"
Sören bites his lower lip and Mark sighs, feeling that ache once again, which is getting harder and harder to deal with.
But hardest of all is when they're at Artist's Point, and after many photos of the landscape and selfies and group photos, Sören gets misty-eyed at the breathtaking view of the Yellowstone River passing through the yellow-orange-pink canyon walls, with a powerful waterfall. "Oh god, I'm sorry I'm such a baby," Sören chokes out.
Anthony hugs him tight. "You don't need to apologize. None of us do that 'boys don't cry' shit. Besides, your sensitive heart is one of the things I lo - appreciate most about you."
Mark swallows hard. He doesn't know if Sören caught that near-confession of the L-word, but he certainly did. His eyes lock with Anthony's for an instant and then Anthony looks away, cheeks pink, as if he knows he's been caught. Mark steps forward and hugs both of them, and Sören snuggles into Anthony's shoulder and Anthony pets his curls with his own eyes too bright.
When Anthony and Sören pull back a little, they look into each other's eyes, faces close, and Mark is almost positive they're going to kiss. But they don't. Sören bites his lip again - it drives Mark crazy when he does that - and then Sören takes out the binoculars for a better look at the panoramic view. After a minute he nudges Anthony. "There are eagles," Sören says.
Anthony looks through the binoculars and he beams joyfully, then he hands the binoculars to Mark. "Eagles."
Mark takes the binoculars and decides to crack a joke - to laugh before he cries. "There must be something wrong with my eyes because I don't see Don Henley over there."
Anthony facepalms and snickers.
But there are indeed bald eagles roosting on the canyon wall. Mark remembers the bird menagerie Finarfin used to have, and he knows Anthony must be thinking about it too.
Unless Anthony's head is still swimming from the near-love-confession and the near-kiss. Mark quietly hands the binoculars back to Anthony and then he speaks into Anthony's mind, It's OK, you know. I know.
Anthony raises an eyebrow before he looks through the binoculars again. Know what?
Mark feels something like a glass door closed on Anthony's mind - he's deliberately shielding himself from broadcasting, as Finarfin once did; Finarfin was in fact the one who taught Maglor how to shield his thoughts, long ago - and Mark is a little annoyed by that, but he tells himself Anthony probably doesn't want to rock the boat by having this conversation right now, so he's playing coy.
Sooner or later, they will have to have this conversation. Preferably sooner rather than later - it's plain as day that Sören has feelings for Anthony.
Mark doesn't mind sharing Anthony, but he wishes Sören liked him too. Especially now, as he watches Sören sketching the view on his tablet. He can practically feel Sören burn, the way Fëanor once did.
"Ooh Daddy, FUCK!"
Anthony has three fingers inside him, making sloppy wet suctioning sounds. Mark's breath is in shuddery gasps, his body trembling as Anthony's fingers bang away hard and fast, the delicious rhythm getting him closer and closer... trying to hold back, never wanting the pleasure to stop...
"Mmmmm, you're so wet I bet I can get my whole hand in you." Anthony kisses Mark, and after their tongues take a few playful licks Anthony purrs, "What do you think?"
"More," Mark begs, fucking himself desperately on Anthony's fingers, almost coming at the thought of Anthony's fist inside him. "More, yes, more, please, more, more..."
"God, I love it when you beg." Anthony kisses Mark again and then four fingers are in Mark's cunt. Mark cries out, and again a moment later when it becomes Anthony's whole hand rubbing inside him, fucking him, claiming him...
"Oh shit, oh fuck, Daddy, fuck..." Mark lets out a wordless wail, and the wet slurping sound of his cunt getting fisted is even louder, filthier. Mark bites his lip and whimpers, closer-closer-closer but holding back, just a little more, needing to keep feeling that intense, all-consuming sensation.
Anthony growls. "Look at that slutty cunt taking your Daddy's fist." Then Anthony starts kissing and licking Mark's neck, making Mark whimper, rushing to the edge of edges, the pleasure about to shatter. "Yeah, you like that, little slut? You like the way Daddy fucks your boypussy? Is my slutty boy going to come for his Daddy -"
"YES, DADDY!" Mark loses control, climaxing. Anthony pulls out and Mark squirts hard, all over Anthony's torso and face. Anthony leans in and laps at the gushing flow like a fountain, then laughs with delight, utterly drenched.
Anthony moves in for a kiss; Mark licks up his juices from Anthony's face and then they kiss open-mouthed, tongues teasing, sharing the taste between them. They kiss deeply, and Mark's hands slide down Anthony's hairy chest, knowing Anthony hasn't come yet.
But before Mark can reach down for Anthony's cunt, Anthony gently pushes him back, then kneels over Mark's chest and tilts his hips forward - just enough to give Mark a good look, not enough for Mark to dive in. Then Anthony paws himself furiously, breathing harder as his hand vigorously rubs his cunt. A few minutes later Anthony takes his t-dick between his thumb and forefinger, pinches it a little, and starts stroking it up and down like a cock. Mark gets hot again watching Anthony play with himself, hearing Anthony breathe harder and moan softly, hearing the little squishing sounds and knowing how wet Anthony is... how much Anthony was turned on by fisting him, making him squirt. Mark thinks about playing with himself too but he devotes all his attention to watching the filthy gorgeous show in front of him, and waiting.
It doesn't take long before Anthony squirts too, throwing back his head and crying out. Mark moans at the sight of Anthony's cunt contracting, lips pulsing, cock twitching, cream spurting and gushing. Gushing on his chest, his sensitive nipples. Mark leans in a little for the last jet of cum to splash him in the face, and licks his lips, savoring it.
Anthony sinks down and kisses Mark passionately. Mark holds him, and his hands slide down to cup Anthony's ass. Anthony licks his cum off Mark's face, and they rub their tongues together before another deep kiss, and another. Anthony is still glistening from Mark squirting on him, and they take turns licking up their cum and kissing, until they're both playing with each other's pussies, ready to go again.
They rub against each other, kissing, licking. Pussy lips kissing as their cocks slide and rub, finding that rhythm that drives them both wild. It feels especially luscious tonight, with how drenched they both are, gliding on wet silk. It isn't long before their cunts are making obscenely loud slurping, smacking noises, the telltale sounds of a hot, wet pussyfuck. They're in a tent and Sören's tent is several meters away and they're further out from other campers, so they can be much more unrestrained tonight. Primal. Animalistic. Anthony gives him another hungry kiss before he rises up, props Mark's right leg on his left shoulder and rides him, pussies even louder, giving it their all, rutting frantically.
"Fuck me, Daddy," Mark moans, pinching and rubbing his nipples, going out of his mind with lust at the sight of Anthony fucking him, his lean hairy body in motion, the heat in Anthony's green eyes as cunt fucks cunt.
"You like that, baby?"
"Yes, Daddy, more..."
Anthony growls and keeps fucking, teasing, exciting, pleasuring, until they're both right there, their eyes locked, gasping for breath, shaking. Mark comes first, arching as his body heaves and his toes curl, cunt pulsing and pulsing. Feeling Anthony contract and gush against him is always delicious, and Mark pulses harder, feeling it radiate through his whole body. Anthony sighs, his face lit up in that joyful smile Mark loves.
They lay side by side, facing each other, holding each other. A moment of getting lost together in a magical realm where it's the two of them and everything is peaceful and beautiful. As Anthony snuggles into his shoulder, Mark looks up through the roof of their tent at the endless stars in the clear night, grateful for this moment, and to be reunited with his family for at least a little while, sharing the beauty and wonder of Middle-Earth with them. Fëanor always wanted to return to the wild, outside the gilded cage of the Valar. Here they are.
Before they can doze off completely, Mark gently shakes Anthony. "We need to get ourselves decent in case we have to piss in the middle of the night, or something."
"Mmmm, golden showers," Anthony mumbles sleepily.
Mark cackles and nudges him. "Maybe sometime when we don't have to explain to other people why we smell like piss." Mark sniffs the air. "We probably smell like pussy." He means "definitely", the musk of sex lingers in the air, enough that Mark would get aroused again if he wasn't so spent.
They put on T-shirts and boxers, and once they're back in their bedding and curled up together and about to doze off again, suddenly they hear a shriek.
Anthony and Mark meet eyes and say in unison, "Sören."
There's no time to put on more clothing. Anthony scrambles out of the tent first, but Mark quickly catches up with him. To Mark's relief there isn't a bear or other predator at the tent, but that doesn't mean everything is OK.
Anthony zips open the tent and ducks inside. "Sören, you OK?"
Mark pokes his head in, and his heart sinks. Sören is in a T-shirt and boxers and curled up in the fetal position, shaking with silent tears. When he sees them looking at him he breaks down crying.
Anthony crawls over. "What is it, honey?" Anthony pulls Sören up and into his arms. He tenderly strokes Sören's cheek, and looks into his eyes with such compassion and love that it makes Mark ache. "Are you OK?"
"I had a nightmare," Sören chokes out.
"Oh, sweetheart."
Mark wonders if Sören notices the terms of endearment flying so freely. Mark certainly does.
"Was it about Einar?" Anthony tilts his head to one side. "Or was it the re-"
"The recurring one." Sören finishes his sentence. "The really bad one. The reason why I got my ink."
Mark raises an eyebrow. He's seen Sören's paintings - he's seen the painting that Sören based his tattoos on - but Sören hasn't explained many of his pieces, preferring the viewer see what they will. Now Mark is curious, even as he has a feeling that will lead somewhere he isn't prepared to go.
"Oh shit. Jesus. I'm so fucking sorry," Anthony says. His arms tighten around Sören, who falls apart, sobbing on his shoulder.
Mark clears his throat. "You know, I don't mean to pry, but... can you tell me about that dream? Maybe it'll help if you talk about it..."
Sören keeps crying for a few minutes, and at first Mark worries he put his foot in it, but then Sören leans up, nods, and takes a few breaths. His accent is much heavier as he proceeds. "When I was four, I started having dreams about burning to death. It wasn't anything I saw on television, wasn't any neighbors, no fire at home, it was just... random. I remember telling my mamma very insistently, 'This is how I died.' That was also the same age I started telling people I was a boy. Anyway..." Sören looks off to the side, closes his eyes for a moment, takes some more deep breaths, and then his eyes roll heavenward as he grits out, "When I hit puberty, the dreams changed. I still burned to death, went up in smoke and ash, but because I was attacked by a pack fire demons. I interpreted this a few different ways, like it was about my gender dysphoria, it was about me being bullied in school and abused at home by my aunt and uncle, it was about my depression and feeling suicidal as a teenager dealing with all those things... but it didn't change the fact that it felt real, like more than just a dream, like physically happening to me. I used to wake up expecting to see third-degree burns."
Mark's mouth is open and dry. He feels like he can't breathe, his stomach turned to ice, his body crackling with electricity as his skin is gooseflesh, hair standing on end. His eyes meet Anthony's again. He knows Anthony hasn't read The Silmarillion, only knows what Mark has told him about it. So even though it seems Anthony has known about this dream for a good while, it wouldn't necessarily clue Anthony in to who/what Sören is.
And then there's more. "I haven't had that nightmare in a long time, so I thought maybe it had fucked off and I was free of it," Sören continues. "But then it came back. I think I know what triggered it, maybe. Today has been one of the most beautiful days of my life - the kind of day that makes me hungry for life. And it made me feel more creative than usual, more creative than I've felt in awhile. So as the gummy kicked in, before I went to sleep, I worked on this." Sören reaches for his tablet and turns on a portable light. "I was going to wait until after your wedding to show you, it's supposed to be a wedding present, but I suppose you can see it now."
Sören hands over the tablet and shines a light on them so they can see better.
There's Mark wearing a flower crown and a flower garland, over a silken black tunic. Standing beside him is Anthony with long blond hair, also wearing a flower crown, and a white-and-blue tunic with golden embroidery knotwork. They're standing in front of a waterfall in soft golden light.
It's not just Finarfin and Maglor, as they were, but it's the way they were on their secret wedding day in the Years of the Trees.
A frisson goes down Mark's spine. If there was any remaining hint of doubt in Mark's mind that Sören was Fëanor, it's gone now.
Anthony looks just as stunned, his eyes wide. He can't say anything either, his hands are shaking as he holds the tablet.
"Oh god, you don't like it," Sören says. He claps his hand over his mouth and starts sobbing again.
"Oh no. I love it. It's... it's phenomenal." Anthony hands the tablet to Mark and takes Sören in his arms again, holding him tight, rocking him. "It's so beautiful I don't even have words. Words feel too trite to describe... that."
"He's right," Mark says. "We're not just saying that to be nice. It would be an honor to have that in our home." Even as Mark feels guilty for what it cost - unlocking one memory for another.
"I'm so sorry you had that dream," Anthony says, squeezing Sören, rocking him harder... crying a little himself. "I am so, so sorry."
It's as if Anthony seems to also realize the painting catalyzed memories.
"I'm sorry I'm such a baby," Sören says, sniffling, wiping his eyes. "I probably woke you up. Shit, I probably woke a few people up. I hope nobody gets a ranger -"
"You don't need to apologize," Anthony says, touching Sören's face - briefly, but just long enough to make it even more obvious to Mark.
"You guys can go back to your tent if you want. I'll be OK. Though I really don't think I can get back to sleep, I'll just... draw or something..."
Anthony glances over at Mark, and Mark knows what Anthony is thinking - though he can feel the shield around Anthony's mind, hiding other thoughts. It's very telling. Mark gives a small nod, approving of Anthony's plan. Anthony nods back, turns to Sören, and says, "You want to... try to... sleep in our tent tonight? I make no promises we can keep you safe from more nightmares, but we can try."
Sören follows them over to their tent - his stuff will probably be safe in the tent unattended overnight. The bedding is meant for two people and it's a tight squeeze with three but they manage it, Sören sandwiched between the two of them, a tangle of limbs as they hold him and each other, and he curls up on them.
It feels cozy and safe. A perfect moment of peace. A sense of rightness, the way things are supposed to be, the three of them nesting this way.
Mark sighs. This makes the longing even worse. He considers starting the conversation with Anthony about their feelings - and possibly inviting Sören to have a threesome, to comfort him - and then he realizes that now is bad timing to proposition Sören, not wanting to creep Sören out by coming across like taking advantage when he's vulnerable. When Sören is in a better headspace...
For now, Mark watches Anthony spoon Sören, rubbing Sören's back with a distant, sad look in his eyes. The way Anthony aches is palpable, and Mark reaches out to gently squeeze Anthony's hand before he starts massaging Sören's scalp. Then Mark sings them to sleep.
There's a lady who's sure all that glitters is gold
And she's buying a stairway to Heaven
When she gets there she knows, if the stores are all closed
With a word she can get what she came for
Ooh, ooh, and she's buying a stairway to Heaven...
In the morning, when Sören has returned to his tent to get changed and pack up his tent and gear so they can get back on the road, and Anthony and Mark are packing up their gear, Mark notices Anthony is quieter than usual. Pensive. A serious, somewhat troubled look on his face.
Mark knows exactly why, and he tells himself, It's time.
Mark clears his throat. "So, are we going to talk about last night, or nah?"
Anthony throws his head back and laughs. "The hilarity of you, Macalaurë Fëanorion, saying 'or nah'."
Mark smirks and, for a moment of levity, he sings.
You gonna run it for these hundreds boy or nah?
Show me is you really 'bout your money boy or nah?
Anthony laughs harder, then shakes his head. Then Mark drops the proverbial hammer. "Sören is Fëanor."
Anthony exhales. "Yes."
Their eyes lock. "You love him."
Anthony hesitates for just an instant, then he nods. "Before I met you. I thought I'd get over him with time but I... I can't. But my heart is big enough for both of you -"
"So is mine, if you're OK with sharing him."
Anthony laughs again, this time with relief. Enough relief that he tears up, laughing and crying. They hug each other tight. "Jesus Christ, we should have had this conversation a long time ago."
"Yeah." Mark gives a nervous chuckle, then breathes his own sigh of relief. For a moment, the Song is all that exists, then he comes back to himself, deeply shaken. "But relationships are complicated enough with two people, especially... an immortal and a mortal, never mind bringing a third person into it."
Anthony nods harder. "It's why I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't want to fuck things up with us. I'm still afraid it'll fuck things up, but... I don't want to keep going on like this, either, pretending I don't have feelings -"
"It's worth a shot, but probably we need to wait a bit. I seriously thought about asking you through ósanwe if you wanted to have a threesome with him, but he wasn't in a good place last night and I don't want him to think we pity him or that we're taking advantage."
"I agree." Anthony folds his arms. "Actually, I'm gonna need time to work up some courage. Yes, you could initiate the conversation but -"
"No, I get it. Just... don't let it wait too long, OK? If on the offchance we completely weird him out by asking him to be our unicorn, I'd like to know well before we head for Alaska because otherwise that's going to be a looooooooong stretch of awkwardness."
"OK. So... by or before the time we hit California, we'll say something to him."
Mark nods. "That's acceptable."
They shake on it, then they hug each other again. Mark closes his eyes - now he's the one tearing up with relief, and hope.
