Sören was discharged from the hospital the night of his birthday. As relieved as he was to be getting out of the hospital and going back to Anthony's place - going home, Sören caught himself thinking - he was too wiped out from his ordeal to be in a celebratory mood. Though his gunshot wound was a through-and-through - the easiest to survive - he'd also lost enough blood to require a transfusion, and he was on prescription painkillers for the next few days. He'd also had to give a police report while he was still in the hospital and that took a lot out of him. He had never felt so exhausted in his life, not even in the first couple of days after his stomach had been pumped following his suicide attempt in late 2005, or when he'd had his top surgery in 2009.
Indeed, Sören was so worn out and messed up on painkillers that he slept for almost 24 hours after he got back from the hospital - he vaguely remembered short breaks where Anthony woke him up to drink some water or Gatorade, and he had to go to the bathroom once; the cats kept checking to make sure he was alive - but otherwise, he was like a rock. So when his body finally shunted him awake, he was not only sore all over from having laid down so long, but he had a headache from oversleeping and he was ravenous.
It didn't help that something smelled delicious. Sören staggered out to the bathroom to do his business, and then he came out to the open plan kitchen and living room, where Anthony was at the stove.
"Hey," Sören rasped.
"Hey." Anthony grinned. "I see you've joined the land of the living."
Sören nodded.
"Sit down, can I get you something to drink?"
"Water or Gatorade, takk. I'm parched."
Sören sat on the couch - Solly and Shmuel were happy to see him; Solly rubbed against his legs while Shmuel hopped up on him for a hug, draping himself on Sören's chest, front paws on the non-injured shoulder, then Solly sat on his lap. Shmuel nuzzled and groomed Sören's beard as Sören skritched both cats. Anthony came over with a fond smile, his eyes soft, and handed Sören a big bottle of blue Gatorade.
"I was hoping the food smells would wake you up," Anthony said.
"What are you making?"
"Homemade chicken soup with matzo balls... and latkes." Anthony gestured to the unlit menorah in the window, sitting on top of a tall, narrow stool the cats couldn't climb; the sun hadn't set yet. "Tonight's the first night of Hanukkah."
"Oh! Weird, it's this early?"
"Yeah, the date changes every year because the Gregorian calendar and Hebrew calendar are different. And Thanksgiving's tomorrow, people are calling it Thanksgivikkuh. But anyway, even without it being Hanukkah, I thought chicken soup might help you recover. My mum did too, she called - the shooting's been on the news."
Sören frowned that the shooting had become so public - he definitely wasn't going to be able to return to living stealth now - but then he smiled at the mention of Elaine. "How's your mum?"
"Good." Anthony nodded. "I... ah... I told her about us." He bit his lower lip and shook with silent laughter, cheeks flushing. "She asked when we were getting married."
Sören almost spat his drink laughing - they had barely been together a couple of days, though it honestly felt longer than that... and truth be told, the thought of marrying Anthony appealed to him. Before Sören could make any kind of response, Anthony rushed back to the stove. "Do you need your pain pill?" Anthony called out.
"Uhhhh... give me a minute to wake up." Seamus sat down in a loaf next to Sören and when Sören had enough to drink, he resumed skritching the cats. He definitely didn't feel loopy and ready to doze off again, but his shoulder didn't twinge the way it did when the medication had completely worn off. "No, probably not till later when I'm ready to go back to sleep."
"OK. Also, speaking of later... I have a birthday cake for you. I'd still like to take you out for your belated birthday when you're up for it, but in the meantime I didn't want you to feel completely forgotten."
"Awwwwwwww. You spoil me."
"No, I just think you deserve nice things." Anthony came over and kissed the top of Sören's head, then spent a moment petting Sören's curls, and stroking his cheek; Sören leaned into Anthony's touch, melting a little.
The food was ready a few minutes later; Anthony dished it out and let it cool off, then he led Sören over to the menorah in the window. Sören bowed his head reverently and watched as Anthony said the prayer in Hebrew and lit the first candle. Then Anthony took a few steps back, and they held hands. "I love you," Anthony said softly.
"I love you too." Sören squeezed his hand.
Anthony turned to him. "This is going to sound utterly daft, but I... prayed for you after you got shot. And when you, yanno. When I... found you, and didn't know if..."
Sören got choked up by that - unexpectedly so, since he wasn't particularly religious; he'd been raised Lutheran, as an Icelander, but that usually meant going to services once a year on Christmas. He supposed he sort of believed in a Higher Power, but he didn't believe the mythology about Jesus Christ.
"I'm not trying to, like... push religion on you," Anthony said. "I mean, I don't even know how I feel about it, but -"
"It's OK." Sören pulled him into a fierce, tight hug. "I appreciate it. I really do. And... if you wanted to explore your, um... Jewishness? I'd be happy to go with you to synagogue if they let, ah..."
"Reform Judaism accepts people like us, and you don't have to be Jewish to attend shul," Anthony said, nodding. "I'd have to think about it - there's plenty of Jews in the Boston area and more than one Reform Temple. But right now, our first priority is getting you better." He booped Sören's nose.
Sören couldn't resist an attempt at humor, before he broke down crying from the surprise surge of emotions that Anthony's revelation had given him. "And here I was hoping your first priority was getting down my pants."
Anthony howled and turned bright red, eyes sparkling. "You're bloody incorrigible, you know that?"
"Takk." Sören grinned.
"Now go have a seat and I'll wait on you."
When Sören turned around to head back to the couch, Anthony swatted his ass. Sören responded with a sassy butt wiggle - and his cunt twinged, wanting Anthony to do it again. The thought of Anthony giving him a spanking sent heat through him. Not now, Sören told himself, trying to get sex off the brain, but staring at the way Anthony's jeans hugged his ass and his bulge all the right ways did nothing to calm down his libido.
His mind was quickly transported somewhere else, however, when Anthony served him and cutting his sour-cream-topped latkes with a fork and knife and spooning soup into his mouth felt like a herculean effort with his wounded right shoulder still healing. Anthony watched him with concern, and when Sören started to break out into a sweat, Anthony put his food down and came over to help Sören, feeding him bites of food and doing the "airplane".
"I'm sorry," Sören said.
"Hi Sorry I'm -"
Sören gave him a look, but couldn't help chuckling. "That's my joke."
"I know." Anthony booped his nose again.
Sören sighed. "This doesn't bode well for the show."
Anthony shrugged. "We still have a little over a month. If need be, we can change our routine back to the original where it was just me doing lifts, instead of us taking turns."
"Yeah, but..."
"No buts." Anthony put a finger to Sören's lips. "And if we have to pull out, well... it's been all over the news that you got shot. I'm sure people will understand."
"Hopefully it won't come to that." Sören remembered the angry e-mails he got when he was publicly outed as trans - his skate camp was most likely done - and he didn't want even more public outrage, considering they were headlining the event with Johnny Weir himself and people would demand a refund if they didn't show.
"Anyway... you literally just got out of the hospital a couple days ago, it's normal that your shoulder will need a bit to heal. Whatever you need help with, just let me know, OK?"
Sören nodded, but he still felt guilty about it, especially when he glanced over at Anthony's unfinished food, that the cats were eyeing.
Anthony got back to his meal before the cats could create an incident, and as Sören tried to stretch - his muscles were stiff after being in bed for so long - he caught a whiff of himself; he hadn't showered since the morning of the day he got shot. "Ugh, I stink. Will you think I'm rude if I go take a shower while you're still eating?"
"No," Anthony said. He narrowed his eyes. "Are you going to be OK?"
Sören nodded. "I'll take my time with getting undressed and I can use the other hand to lather up and stuff."
"OK. If you need anything, just holler. Don't do the stiff upper lip shit."
"Yes, sir." Sören gave a mock salute, Anthony saluted back, and then Sören made his way to the bathroom.
Taking off his sweatpants and boxers and T-shirt was another painful, exhausting task, where Sören had to rely more on his good arm, but he got it done. He turned the water as hot as he could stand it; the hot water felt good pelting down on his sore muscles, and the steam relaxed him. Sören's discharge instructions said that today he could gently cleanse the wound area so long as he avoided directly touching the sutures and changed the dressing afterwards, and he waited to do that last, after he'd washed his hair and the rest of his body. As he saw his bullet wound for the first time he gasped and started to cry - not just from the area being overly sensitive, but the memory of the shooting came flooding back to him...
...and with it, fresh fear for the future. He was already feeling vulnerable after the hatefulness directed at him when he was outed, and now... this. He had been the victim of a hate crime in Boston, an extremely liberal city. What did that say about anywhere else in the country? Would he ever be safe again? It seemed like such an unfair trade - Sören's transition had won him peace with his body and himself, and the love of his life... and had cost him everything else; he felt at war with the world itself.
"Sören? Honey? Are you OK?"
"I'm OK," Sören choked out.
Anthony was in the bathroom peering into the shower. "Are you sure?"
"Jæja. I just." Sören tried to make words, and all he could do was weep.
Anthony quickly got his clothes off and joined Sören in the shower. "Are you in pain? Do you need help?"
"I..." Sören swallowed hard and shook his head. "I think I have PTSD."
Anthony pulled him close and held him, rocking him, making soothing noises. "Shhhhh. I know. We'll get through this, OK? We can try to find you someone to talk to, I can go with you to a doctor if you need it. It's gonna be OK, baby."
"I hate this." Sören sobbed on his shoulder. "I feel like part of me fucking died when I got shot. Now I have to spend the rest of my life worrying about other people, since I can't go stealth again -"
"Listen. It's... statistically unlikely that you're going to be hate crimed again, or at least not in the severity that you were a few days ago. I know that's not really comforting, and everything feels... catastrophic... right now. I get it. This isn't the same situation, but when I left Justin I felt like a wreck. Everyone was Schrodinger's Rapist, for months. But you're going to get through this. You don't have to do this alone. And I will help you with whatever you need, I promise. I don't think you're weak, I think you're having a normal human reaction to trauma."
Sören continued to cry - relieved and touched by his words, angry with himself for feeling so small and powerless... raging at the world, that it could be so hateful, so full of cruel people who enjoy hurting others. Sören's mind's eye continued to replay the shooting, then conjured up scenarios of other attacks, and Anthony just held him and let him cry it out. "Shhhh, it's OK. I know. I'm here for you. I love you. Shhhh, baby. It's gonna be OK."
At last Sören's mind stopped regurgitating the terror and slowed down, where the shield wall of Anthony was all that existed. Sören's fingers were prune skin, and he tapped Anthony and mumbled, "I think we can get out now."
"OK." Anthony turned off the water and kissed his forehead.
After they towelled off, Anthony paused to stop at the medicine cabinet to get the kit to change the dressing on Sören's wound while Sören waited for him on the bed. Anthony came over a moment later. He tenderly sterilized it, though it stung a little, making Sören gasp, and Anthony gave a sympathetic noise in response. Then Anthony put on the dressing - and showed Sören a box of Snoopy bandages, one of which he put on top of the dressing. Sören's eyes welled up again, remembering how Anthony had bought him Snoopy bandages when he'd learned Sören was self-harming, years ago.
But before Sören could get too choked up, he finally noticed Anthony was sporting an erection, pointing at him. Sören looked down - a little intimidated by the size, but excited just the same, tingling right down to his cunt - and then his eyes met Anthony's and he couldn't resist a moment of levity. "Wow, you have a Snoopy fetish? Kinkayyyyyy."
Anthony threw his head back and laughed, then he tweaked Sören's nose and shook his head vehemently, turning beetroot, eyes sparkling. "Smartass. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm gay and aroused by the male form."
Sören grinned. "Hi Gay And Aroused By The Male Form, I'm -"
Anthony groaned loudly, then he just smiled back. "But seriously." He gestured to Sören's body.
And Sören got choked up yet again - here was the ultimate moment of validation. Regardless of what the world thought of him, the man he'd loved for over a decade was giving a very long, thick, hard seal of approval. He confessed what had gone through his mind through the haze of painkillers when he was in the hospital waiting to be discharged... waiting to come home with Anthony and start a new life together. "Considering how long we've known each other, I was so afraid you'd still think of me as... you know, a girl."
Anthony smirked. "My dick definitely doesn't see you as a girl."
"...Your dick doesn't have eyes, Anthony."
They laughed together, and Anthony grabbed Sören's face with his hands and pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss. Sören moaned into the kiss as his cunt throbbed, clit stiffening. They kissed and kissed, like they were starving for each other. When Anthony began to kiss Sören's neck, Sören's breath hitched, and he moaned again as Anthony licked and nibbled, discovering how sensitive he was there. "Oh shit, fuck me," Sören begged.
Anthony chuckled and licked a slow trail down Sören's neck, before kissing the sweet hollow where neck and shoulder met, and gently nipped it. "I want to make love to you." Their eyes met, and Anthony touched Sören's face. "Besides... I don't have any lube handy, I haven't had sex with anyone in awhile, so we need to get you really wet." Then Anthony got serious, his expression registering concern. "Um. Is that an... an OK thing to say?"
Sören nodded.
Anthony cleared his throat. "Are there any words I shouldn't use... any parts of you I shouldn't touch? I don't want to make you dysphoric -"
"I appreciate the consideration," Sören said, "but I'm more or less OK with everything, I just don't like the words 'front hole' for some reason, it sounds, ah... objectifying."
Anthony nodded. Then he raised an eyebrow. "And when you say everything..." He gestured to Sören's nipple piercings. "Is that included? Are those just for decoration, or an invitation to play?"
"Both," Sören said. "They helped me get back some sensitivity there after top surgery."
"So I can play with them."
"Only if I can play with your nipples too."
Anthony grinned. "Twist my arm."
Sören twisted Anthony's arm, making them both laugh again, then he reached down to take Anthony's cock in his hand - it barely fit in his fist, with how thick it was; Sören guessed it was roughly eight inches long. It reminded him of a Coke can. Then Sören looked up into those beautiful green eyes, and admired the rest of him - the freckled shoulders, his hairy chest and the pelt on his arms and legs, pink nipples standing at attention, the thick bush, balls hanging low. Anthony's cock pulsed in Sören's hand and Sören's cunt pulsed too, wanting him so badly. Sören licked his lips, and rasped, "I know what would help get me wetter, elskan." With that, Sören gently pushed Anthony back against the pillows; Anthony gave him a wicked grin.
Sören spent the next while doing what he'd fantasized about for years - worshiping every inch of Anthony's body, kissing and licking each side of his neck and each of his shoulders, his arms, his nipples and pecs, his six-pack abs, the hard musculature of his thighs and powerful calves, right down to his feet, sucking on each of Anthony's toes. His fingers followed the trail of his mouth, walking, tracing. He thrilled to the sound of Anthony's soft moans and ragged breath, feeling himself drip with desire. He felt intoxicated by the clean masculine scent of Anthony's body, and the musk of his arousal. Sören kissed his way back up Anthony's legs and thighs and stomach to Anthony's nipples and sucked hard at one as he pinched and rubbed the other, back and forth between them, then kissed, licked and nibbled down Anthony's stomach, hands sliding over Anthony's torso and thighs, smiling at the way Anthony shivered and groaned. Sören paused at Anthony's cock, watching with interest as a bead of precum formed and slowly rolled down the shaft.
Anthony reached out to stroke Sören's curls and his cheek. "Nobody's ever given my body that much attention before. We've barely gotten started and you are an amazing lover."
Sören smiled. "There's more where that came from. Such a beautiful work of art deserves lavish pleasure. But first..." Sören took a long, slow lick at the next drop of precum flowing, which made Anthony gasp.
Sören couldn't resist teasing him a little bit, licking slowly up and down the shaft, around and around the head, relishing Anthony's moans and sighs. At last Sören took Anthony's cock in his mouth, as much as he could get, almost gagging on it. With their eyes locked, Sören deep-throated as long as he could stand it, then pulled the cock out of his mouth to lick at it some more. Anthony groaned as Sören sucked on just the head and first couple inches, working his tongue, as one hand rubbed up and down the shaft and the other hand gently played with his tight balls. Sören's cream dripped down his thighs and after a few minutes Sören let go of Anthony's balls so he could touch himself, sucking harder.
When Anthony began visibly trembling, his breath in shuddery gasps, Sören knew he was getting close. As badly as Sören wanted Anthony's cock inside him, he wanted to taste Anthony too. He continued to suck and rub his tongue on the head, caressing the shaft, pawing himself as hard and fast as he could with his wounded, aching shoulder, caution be damned. And then, finally, Anthony grit his teeth and grabbed Sören's curls. "I'm gonna -"
"Mmmmmmmhmmmm."
Anthony let go with a deep grunt, flooding Sören's mouth with hot salty cum. Sören almost climaxed, feeling the tiniest little flutters but not the full release, as he swallowed down all that Anthony had to give - so much of it that it spilled out of the corners of his mouth and down his chin. Sören licked Anthony's cock clean then came up to kiss him, and both men moaned into the kiss.
"I love you," Sören said.
"I love you." Anthony pulled Sören close and kissed the top of his head, arms tightening around him. "So much."
"And I love your cock."
Anthony laughed. "Please take this as an awkwardly worded compliment: You give head like a cis gay guy."
"I should hope so, G-d knows I've watched enough gay porn."
Anthony laughed harder, turning beetroot. Then he stole a little kiss... and then his face registered concern. "You haven't come yet, have you?"
"No." Sören's clit was aching for relief.
Anthony kissed him again. "Well, let's take care of that." Anthony started kissing his neck and his thumbs stroked Sören's hard, pierced nipples, making his clit throb even more. "I'd like to give you the same tender loving care you showed -"
"Later." Sören's voice was a snarl, which surprised him - but that was how urgent his need was. "I want that cock in me, so as soon as you're ready to go again..." Then Sören rose up on his knees and showed him how wet he was.
Anthony let out a low whistle. "Damn, that looks just like a cis guy's cum." Then he looked up at Sören and gave a nervous little laugh. "I hope I didn't just put my foot in it."
Sören shook his head. "You're fine."
Anthony reached out to caress Sören's hard clit with his index finger; Sören almost came. "That is some nice bottom growth, too." He looked up at Sören and bit his lip adorably, as if asking for permission to play, yet still seeming shy and a bit hesitant.
Sören knew it would probably take time for Anthony to get used to his equipment - he didn't seem turned off by it, at least; Sören usually hadn't enjoyed oral from other people, finding it too dysphoric, but it was another thing to get it from a gay man who saw him as another man. Even so, that experiment could wait for another day, he didn't want the memory of their first time to be soured if either of them wasn't into that. And the only thing Sören could think about right now was... "Well, I want to worship your cock some more." He knew that would get Anthony hard again and ready to fuck; Sören felt shameless, wanton, desperate, like he was in heat for it.
"I'm not gonna say no." Anthony grinned.
Sören moved back down and started licking Anthony's cock again. It hardened right up in his mouth. Sören sucked on the head a little, then took a few last teasing licks before coming up to kiss Anthony... a sensual open-mouthed kiss, rubbing their tongues together, making streamers with Anthony's precum.
"How do you want it?" Anthony asked.
"...Yes?"
They both laughed, and Anthony kissed the tip of Sören's nose and raised his eyebrow. "No, seriously." He gestured to Sören's bandaged shoulder. "And I don't want to hurt you."
Sören took a moment to consider. Missionary or face down would likely put too much pressure on his shoulder; doggy style would make him put too much weight on his shoulder. But also, there was one position that Sören had fantasized about above all others. "I want to ride you."
Anthony's face lit up. "Fuck yes, that's my favorite. I love a thirsty bottom riding my cock."
"Good, you're gonna get a lot of that."
Anthony sat up just a little and Sören straddled his hips. Anthony guided his hard cock to Sören's cunt - teasing back by rubbing the head of his cock against Sören's clit a few strokes, before moving his cockhead to Sören's pussy lips. Sören sank down slowly, taking Anthony inch by inch.
It had been a long time since Sören had a real cock inside him - he played with a dildo, but Anthony's cock was longer and girthier than anything he'd ever had inside him, real or fake. As slick as Sören was, it was still a tight fit, stretching him, a slight pinching, burning sensation at first until he got adjusted. They were both breathing harder, and their eyes met. Anthony put his hand on Sören's heart and smiled, and Sören's eyes misted - the moment he'd longed for his entire adult life was here, and it was better than he'd ever imagined.
Anthony grabbed Sören's hips and Sören began to ride, slowly at first, letting himself get used to the fullness inside him. Then a little harder, faster, when Anthony's cock started to hit his G-spot, pain replaced with delicious pleasure. Sören found his rhythm, holding onto Anthony's shoulders, bouncing up and down on Anthony's cock, stroking his inner walls just right. "Fuck, that's good," Sören moaned.
"You feel fucking incredible," Anthony breathed. He looked up at Sören and their eyes met again; the heat in Anthony's eyes almost undid him. "And you look so fucking hot, riding me like this."
Sören leaned in and kissed him passionately, and then began to ride him hard, bucking feverishly. Anthony growled and leaned in - Sören's chest was level with Anthony's face, and Anthony's teeth seized a nipple ring, tugging on it, sending a shockwave of pleasure-pain through him, making Sören cry out, almost coming. Anthony did the same with the other one and Sören cried out again, then Anthony put an arm around Sören's waist, pulling him closer, and his lips latched onto one nipple, sucking hard. Sören's hands moved from Anthony's shoulders down to Anthony's nipples, pinching and rubbing them, as Anthony suckled each nipple, then lapped, and sucked again. When Anthony was done teasing Sören's nipples for the moment he pulled Sören down into another deep, hungry kiss, and his hand reached between them, fingers stroking Sören's bottom growth. Sören made a hissing noise between clenched teeth, so close and yet so far.
They kissed again and again and Anthony played with Sören's t-dick, tugging it back and forth like he was jerking a cock. Sören rode Anthony for all he was worth, frantic to come, but never wanting to stop their hot, primal fuck... the euphoria of Anthony inside him, together at last. Anthony kissed and licked and nibbled Sören's neck, continuing to work Sören's clit-cock. "Get it, baby," Anthony rasped. "Show me what a cock-hungry faggot you are..."
"Oh, fuck." Again, Sören almost came, right on the edge.
"That's right. I own this faggot boypussy now, and you'll give it to me anytime I want, won't you?"
"Fuck, yes." Sören bit his lip and whimpered. "Oh, shit..." He could feel himself about to hit that point of no return.
Anthony nipped Sören's neck harder; the sloppy sound of Sören's wet cunt was almost louder than Sören's moans. His thumb and forefinger tightened on Sören's t-dick, jerking it wildly. "Shoot that load for me, boy. Show me what a good little faggot you are and come for me -"
"OH JESUS FUCK, ANTHONY!" Sören threw his head back and let out a wordless moan as he climaxed, all of the tension exploding, a glorious sunburst in his mind's eye as the pleasure surged through him. Anthony gave in a moment later, making a strangled sound as he held onto Sören for dear life, shaking, spending hot seed deep in Sören's contracting cunt. With each pulse Sören saw fractals and could almost hear bells ringing, and then there was just the gold-flecked forest green of Anthony's eyes, Anthony's sweet smile at their shared moment of bliss.
"I love you," Anthony said, grabbed Sören's face and kissed him.
Sören kissed him back, then he heard himself babbling, "Ég elska þig. Ég elska þig. Ég elska þig, hjarta mitt, sál mína, andann minn."
They snuggled up together, holding each other; Anthony pet Sören's curls and rubbed his back and Sören let himself just be, soaking up the coziness - perfect peace where everything was beautiful and nothing hurt. After a little while, when Sören's brain had somewhat recovered from being turned to fuzz and mush, he realized what he'd said in the throes of ecstasy. "Uh, sorry for saying 'Jesus' on Hanukkah."
Anthony facepalmed and laughed so hard he snorted, shaking. "I mean, you are a goy. You're Lutheran, right?"
"On paper." Sören nodded. Then he quipped, "So... you can call me your goyfriend?"
Anthony kissed Sören's forehead. "I call you the love of my life."
"When you're not calling me your faggot slut."
Anthony turned pink again. "I hope I didn't offend you -"
"No, I loved it. Now it's my turn to say excuse the awkwardly worded compliment, but being called that by a cis gay guy is like a badge of honor."
"Speaking of badges of honor..." Anthony traced a finger down Sören's neck, sending a shiver down his spine. "You're already starting to show hickies, I got a bit carried away, oops."
"Oops." Sören shrugged, and grinned; he was weirdly pleased with it. "Maybe later you can make the rest of me match."
Anthony licked his lips. "How about now?"
Sören giggled, nodded, and they kissed, then Anthony made a "wait here" gesture and got up. He came back with two plates of Sören's birthday cake. He once again did the "airplane" to feed Sören bites of cake from a fork, and when Sören was finished, instead of eating his own cake with a fork, Anthony gently pushed Sören back against the pillows and smashed cake over his body. For the next while he ate cake off Sören's body, and continued to lick and nibble on him when the cake was all gone, feasting on every inch of Sören's body, driving him wild with pleasure until Sören begged for his cock. Anthony responded by rubbing the head of his cock against Sören's clit, slowly at first then faster until they both climaxed; watching Anthony's seed spend all over his bottom growth intensified Sören's orgasm.
As they lay there in the afterglow, legs entwined, just before Sören could doze off, Anthony said, "Hey Sören? Stupid question."
"Hmmm?"
"Um..." Anthony cleared his throat, glanced off to the side, and bit his lip. There was a long pause before he asked his question. "Can you get pregnant?"
Sören exhaled and spoke honestly. "There is a non-zero chance, but probably not. I don't get my period anymore on T."
"OK."
Anthony closed his eyes and now Sören lay there awake - he could feel Anthony's cum spilling out of him, and now he wondered what percentage "non-zero" meant. Don't worry about it, Sören told himself, gave Anthony a squeeze, rested his head on Anthony's shoulder, and closed his eyes again, letting himself rest.