On December tenth, Sören was medically cleared to return to the ice. With almost two weeks of no practice and three weeks to the big event on New Year's Eve, they needed to make up for lost time.
However, the reality of the shooting was finally settling into Anthony's mind - there had been the initial panic of wondering whether or not Sören would die, and once Sören was back from the hospital, his mental bandwidth had gone into the first few days of fussing over him to make sure he wasn't in too much pain and help him with whatever he needed. Then as the days wore on and Sören was feeling rattled enough to need to consult a counselor and go on anti-anxiety medication, Anthony tried to coach Sören through the random panic attacks with breathing meditation exercises. And now that Sören had been on buspirone for a few days and seemed calmer, it was Anthony's turn to quietly freak out. He'd told Sören - and Sören's therapist had as well - that the proverbial lightning was unlikely to strike twice. Nonetheless, Anthony couldn't keep from wondering if such hatred would embolden others, and if there might be another attack at the event in New York City...
...or even sooner, at Crystal Emporium. The rink had security guards and a metal detector now, which Anthony thought was a good policy albeit a bit intimidating, and even so, Anthony knew that didn't make things 100% safe. Someone could attack them in the parking lot, or follow them across Boston to try something closer to home. Anthony hated that he too was worrying like this, when he was trying to be strong for Sören and help him from becoming a total recluse, so badly shaken by the onslaught of hate since he'd been outed last month.
They were heading straight from the doctor's office to Crystal Emporium, and as Anthony merged to take the exit, he glanced over at Sören and said, "You know, if you want to bow out and not do the show, I'm sure everyone will understand, considering what happened. We don't have to practice today. We can just go home."
Sören took a deep breath. "I've thought about it." He nodded, his eyes straight ahead at the road. "But... I'mma do this." He clenched his fists. "That guy tried to kill me... and these asshole bigots have tried to take my entire life from me. They want me broken, defeated. They want me to be afraid and hide in the closet for the rest of my life." He shook his head and raised his right fist - the arm where he'd been shot in the shoulder. "I'm not giving them that."
Anthony swallowed hard - scared for him, for both of them... but also fiercely proud. Sören's courage gave him the courage he needed; he found that steel of determination, and squared his shoulders. "I love you, you know."
"I love you too." Sören turned to look at him with a small, sweet smile. "If they think our existence is a crime, let's go be gay and do crime."
Anthony smiled back. "Right on."
Once they hit the ice, they warmed up to a hair metal playlist - "Kickstart My Heart" by Motley Crue, "Pour Some Sugar On Me" by Def Leppard, and "Unskinny Bop" by Poison - before they rehearsed three rounds of "Remember The Time", "Smells Like Teen Spirit", and "I've Had The Time Of My Life". They weren't nearly as rusty as Anthony had feared, but they both definitely showed signs that they hadn't practiced in nearly two weeks. Anthony had a feeling that since they'd become intimate at the end of last month, it had put them more in sync on the ice, more attuned to each other than before, and that compensated for the lack of practice. Even so, Anthony and Sören renewed their commitment to training as hard as they could, from now till they had to leave for New York. This was likely going to be their last performance, and they wanted to go out with the bang they didn't get to have in Japan - Sergei had made some noise in his most recent phone call about them possibly doing non-competitive shows around the US and Canada from time to time, but Anthony wasn't keen on touring and having to be away from his cats for long stretches.
The discomfort with the idea of touring, which Anthony revisited as they took their skates off and put their shoes back on - brogues for Anthony, Doc Martens boots for Sören - made Anthony realize his nesting instinct was kicking in. He wanted to settle down and grow old with Sören, but they still hadn't had the talk about what would happen in a few weeks when Sören was scheduled to go back to Denver, if he would be there to tie up loose ends and come back, or if they would try to maintain a long-distance relationship for awhile, or... what. As they headed for the vending machine to get a big Gatorade bottle to share, Anthony thought about broaching the subject but it seemed like the wrong time, especially as he noticed Sören's eyes darting around, moving to stand with his back against the wall, on high alert in the place he'd been shot a mere three weeks ago.
A few minutes later, Sören confirmed Anthony's observation that he was feeling hypervigilant. "Can we head back now? I need to piss and I don't want to do it... here."
Anthony nodded, put an arm around Sören, and led him out to the parking lot. A few feet into the parking lot, Sören was noticeably agitated, breathing harder, looking around... shaking a little. Once they got to the car, Anthony gave Sören a big, squeezy hug and patted him before walking around to the driver's side. Sören climbed in the passenger's seat and once Anthony started the car, Sören broke down crying, burying his face in his hands.
"Oh, lovey." Anthony grabbed him and pulled him into another hug. "Honey, it's OK."
"I'm sorry I'm such a wreck," Sören choked out.
"Hi Sorry I'm Such A Wreck, I'm -"
Sören lowered his hands to shoot him a look, then laughed through his tears, shaking his head, before letting out another sob. "I hate this. I. Fucking. Hate. This."
"I know. I understand. Truth be told, I had some anxiety about coming here as well." Anthony took a deep breath and leaned back in his seat - they weren't going yet, though Anthony was aware Sören needed the bathroom and they would have to leave soon. "Look. I meant what I said when I told you we could pull out of the show and it would be no harm, no foul, I promise you I won't get mad at you, considering the shitty circumstances. Alternatively, I could start driving us to Providence to practice there."
"That's a bit of a drive and going to eat up a lot of gas money," Sören said. He pursed his lips. "No. I... we need to do this. I need to make myself do this, it's just... even knowing there's security guards and a metal detector now, it's still..."
"I get it." Anthony nodded. He kissed Sören's cheek. "And I still mean it. If you would rather we go to Providence to practice... you're worth the extra mileage to me, OK?" He started singing to try to offset the dark mood. "And I would drive 500 miles, and I would drive 500 more, just to be the man to drive a thousand miles to fall down at your door..."
"Da-da da-da, da-da da-da," Sören sang, and together they sang "Da-da dum diddy dum diddy dum diddy da da da." Anthony flashed him a grin as he began to back out of the parking space.
When they were on the highway, Sören exhaled and said, "For now, I think I want to keep trying at Crystal Emporium. If I'm still having panic attacks this bad in a week, then I'll consider your offer to drive us to Providence to practice, and I'll... give you some gas money -"
Anthony waved a hand. "You don't have to pay me." Then he gave a chuckle despite himself. "I've lived here all these years and I still can't get over Yanks calling it gas instead of bloody petrol. Or the driver's side being on the left."
"Now you know how I feel about you Brits putting beans on toast."
Anthony narrowed his eyes in mock offense. "Your people eat rotten shark."
"I've actually never had it, both times I lived in Iceland," Sören said. "I did have haggis when I lived in Edinburgh, though."
"Your accent is still a weird Icelandic-Scottish hybrid. It's cute."
"You still sound Very British, yourself."
Anthony nodded. "I get random compliments from Yanks like 'British accents are so sexy'. They've clearly never encountered someone from the East End. Or a Geordie."
Sören snickered. "Well, your voice is sexy. Quite a pleasant distraction that I need right about now."
"Yeah. I'm sorry." Anthony reached out to pat his arm. Then he took a deep breath, trying to find the right words for the moment, wanting to give some comfort and reassurance to the man he loved. "If you need to hear this, I'm proud of you for trying. For still fighting. You would be well within your rights, after what happened, to say 'fuck this' and go back to living a private life, as much as you can. I sincerely hope that us skating on New Year's Eve... that it sends a message that we're not going anywhere, and your courage inspires anyone else who needs it to just... come out and live their true, authentic self. Nobody should have to hide and suffer the way we did all those years ago."
"I hope you're right," Sören said. "I don't want these bastards to win and make me afraid to live. But right now, I still feel afraid and so fucking powerless..." Sören's voice trailed off and he turned away to look out the window; Anthony could tell from the way Sören's shoulders heaved that he was crying again. A moment later Sören growled, "I hate crying."
"Well, I will never give you any of that 'boys don't cry' shit. That's not healthy at all. And you should be able to be soft and vulnerable with your own partner."
Sören turned back to look Anthony in the eye. Over these last couple of weeks since Sören had been shot, Anthony had called Sören his soulmate, the love of his life, and they'd acknowledged being boyfriends. "Partner" was a much more serious word, implying settling down and building a life together. There was that sudden moment where Anthony almost regretted using the term, not wanting to scare Sören away - they'd known each other for over a decade but had been a couple just a mere few weeks - and then Sören reached out to squeeze his hand.
Anthony thought about broaching the subject then of where they would go from here one the show was done, but with Sören's panic attack at the rink it didn't quite seem like the right time, and Anthony told himself they still had a couple more weeks before they had to talk about the future. Right now, he needed to give Sören space to decompress and find peace.
Snow began to fall as they got closer to home, which seemed to help relax Sören, and once they arrived at Anthony's apartment complex, Sören walked around to meet Anthony at his side of the car and gave him a big hug and a passionate kiss. Anthony's cock stirred and his hands slid down to possessively cup Sören's firm bubble ass. "I love you," Sören said, stroking Anthony's cheek, their eyes locked again. "Thank you for getting me through -"
Anthony put a finger to Sören's lips and kissed him back - softly, sweetly, then a deeper, hungrier kiss, pulling Sören closer to him. "Anything I can do for you, I will."
"Anything, huh?" Sören leered and glanced down at where Anthony had a noticeable bulge in his sweatpants.
Anthony laughed and then he smacked Sören's ass. "One-track mind." He loved it, though; neither Justin nor William made him feel like this, truly desired. He lusted for Sören right back, watching Sören's hot ass as Sören led the way to the building.
In the apartment, Anthony fed the cats as Sören hit the bathroom, and when Sören came out a few minutes later he was shirtless. "I worked up a sweat and should probably take a shower," Sören said. He leaned against the wall and waggled his eyebrows. "Care to join me?"
Anthony ran down the hallway, making Sören giggle. Sören turned on the hot water and they quickly shucked their clothing, and when the water was warm enough, they got in the shower together. Anthony winced a little - Sören ran the shower a bit hotter than he usually liked it, and he reminded himself that during Sören's return to Iceland to get transition care he probably got acclimated to the geothermal hot water. It wasn't completely unpleasant, though, once Anthony's body adjusted to the higher temperature... and the eye candy of Sören naked in front of him made it all worth it anyway.
But Anthony's gaze was drawn to the fresh bullet scar on Sören's right shoulder, which made his eyes mist when he remembered once again how close he'd come to almost losing Sören for good. Not thinking, just feeling, he leaned in and planted a tender little kiss on the scar. Sören broke down again, weeping, and Anthony held him close and tight, rocking him, petting him, making soothing noises.
"I'm sorry if I upset you -"
"No, it's not you." Sören gave him a reassuring pat. "It's..." He sighed. "I still feel like a part of me fucking died, that day. It's better on the meds, and the doctor said give it a few weeks to work, but it's... even here, now, my brain feels like it's stuck. Wanting to run and hide. I hate this. I fucking hate this. I feel like I went to all the trouble of transitioning just for hateful assholes to win -"
"They didn't win." Anthony picked Sören's chin up and their eyes met. "Right here, right now, you're safe with me. I've got you." Anthony's arms enfolded him once more, tightening around him; Anthony felt that fierce ache in his chest, knowing he would kill for Sören, die for Sören, if it came to that. "You're mine. Nobody is going to take you from me ever again." He kissed Sören's tears and rubbed noses with him; Sören managed a smile. "What can I do, right now, to help bring you back to the present? To help you feel safe?"
"Make me feel alive again," Sören whispered. "Help me... get out of my head for awhile."
"All right. I think I can do that."
Anthony started by applying a shampoo-with-conditioner to Sören's curls and lathering, giving him a scalp massage as Sören leaned against him, and Anthony felt Sören's tension loosen. Anthony started kissing Sören's neck and shoulder, ad soon Sören had to hold onto him for support, going weak, moaning, trembling. Anthony's cock rose back to life, stiffening to full hardness as he lathered Sören's entire body, slowly caressing. Then Sören gave Anthony the same treatment, massaging his scalp, and sensually soaping up his body with deliberate, delicious strokes. As they rinsed off, Anthony rubbed his cockhead against Sören's hard clit, teasing them both. They kissed and kissed, and a thought came to Anthony's mind - something he'd wanted to try for a long time, but William had been decidedly vanilla, so it had been relegated to the realm of fantasy only.
"I have an idea," Anthony said.
After they towelled off, Anthony led Sören to the bed, and then he went in the hall closet and found a length of blue bungee cord he'd kept on hand for emergencies - now this was an entirely different purpose. He came back with the blue cord and Sören's eyes widened.
"I'd like to tie you up," Anthony explained.
"Like... Fifty Shades?"
"No, not like Fifty Shades, because unlike the guy in that book, I value safety and consent." Anthony pursed his lips, and Sören gave a throaty chuckle. Anthony fidgeted a little with the cord. "You can say no. I won't be mad, but I had the thought that if I tie you up and tease you for awhile, that might help you... let go."
Sören bit his lip adorably, and then he nodded slowly. "Sounds hot."
"If I do anything you don't like, aren't comfortable with... we should have a safeword, so 'don't stop' doesn't get confused with 'don't, comma, stop'." Anthony gestured to Sören to pick it out.
Sören thought for a moment, then he said, "Beans on toast."
"Piss off." Anthony actually snorted from laughing so hard, which made Sören laugh too, and then Anthony facepalmed, feeling a bit self-conscious for snorting. "Wow, sex-ay."
"Still sexier than beans on toast."
Anthony gave him a mock stern look, and Sören gave him a feigned innocent look in response. Anthony shook his head with an exaggerated sigh and then he said, "I think the safeword should probably be something shorter than that."
Somewhat more seriously, Sören said, "Beans."
"OK, smartass. Maybe I should spank you first."
"I'm kinda sore from our first practice since... what happened... but that sounds fun and I would gladly take a rain check on that for a future date."
Anthony liked that idea and his cock did too, visibly leaping. Sören snickered and then he bit his lip again.
Anthony climbed onto the bed and used the scarf to tie Sören's wrists together in front of him, like a makeshift set of handcuffs. He had Sören test the bonds to make sure they were neither too loose nor too tight, and when he was satisfied, he gave Sören a little kiss. "Ready?"
"Ready."
Anthony gave Sören a few breathless kisses, then he began working on each side of Sören's neck and each of his shoulders, kissing, licking, knowing how sensitive he was there. His fingers and tongue traced the ink on each of Sören's arms, then he lapped and sucked hard at one nipple as he rubbed and pinched the other, pulling on the nipple ring, going back and forth between them, making Sören whimper, gasping for breath. Anthony moved down, licking and nibbling Sören's stomach and thighs, hands sliding over him, enjoying the feel of his steely muscles. Anthony could smell how aroused Sören was, and when he parted Sören's thighs to kiss and nibble his inner thighs, he got a good look at how wet Sören was, thighs slick with it, pooling from his cunt like a cis man's cum. Sören's bottom growth continued to fascinate him - like a small cock, right down to the clit poking from its hood like a foreskin. It was almost as big as Anthony's thumb when fully erect, and Anthony brushed it with his thumb, his own cock pulsing at the sound of Sören's breathy moans.
Anthony and Sören had a lot of sex these last couple of weeks, making up for lost time, but the one thing they hadn't tried so far was Anthony going down on Sören. Anthony had thought about offering, but a couple of days after they'd become intimate, after Anthony's fingers played with Sören's bottom growth to climax, Sören had mentioned feeling dysphoric receiving oral from other partners, and Anthony didn't know if the same would apply here. He didn't want to come off like pressuring Sören into doing something he didn't want to do, but his lust was getting the better of him. He decided it might be less dysphoric for Sören if he phrased it correctly. "Can I give you a blowjob?"
Sören's eyes widened and his face lit up, as if pleasantly surprised by a cis gay man acknowledging what he had as a cock, and then he nodded solemnly. "Go for it."
Greedily, Anthony drew Sören's hard clit into his mouth. While not as long or thick as a cis guy's cock, it was still satisfying to suck on, like a big piece of candy. Anthony treated it just like a natal cock, bobbing his head, letting it glide back and forth in his mouth slowly, then a little faster, sucking on it harder. Sören got more vocal, moaning louder, his breath ragged. More cream dripped from him and Anthony couldn't resist lapping it up, savoring the salty-sweet musk of him. "Like that so far?" Anthony purred.
"Fuck, yes."
"Good. Me too." With that, Anthony took Sören's clit-cock back in his mouth and resumed sucking, rolling it around in his mouth, brushing with his tongue. Sören started swearing in Icelandic, and then he couldn't make words at all, only alternating between guttural and high-pitched noises, shuddering. "I could do this to you for hours." Anthony took a few slow, teasing licks at Sören's t-dick - which had grown a little more since he'd started orally pleasuring him - and then his tongue plunged inside Sören's cunt, fucking him with his tongue... tasting him. Anthony took himself in hand, stroking himself as he tongue-fucked Sören, enjoying all of that yummy, musky cum, getting his lips and chin wet with it. His eyes locked with Sören's as he made streamers, then he took a few more licks at Sören's clit, making Sören growl - Anthony almost came - and at last he worked on the finish, sucking as hard as he could, moving it around in his mouth, shaking his head. Sören began panting, and when he cried out "Oh G-d oh shit oh fuck ohfuckohfuckohfuck," Anthony knew Sören was right there.
A moment later Anthony felt Sören's clit twitching in his mouth, and when he pulled back he watched Sören's cunt contracting, the thick, meaty lips pulsing. Anthony groaned, his own cock throbbing with need, and he lapped at the flowing cream, then came up to kiss Sören with it.
"Fuck." Sören laughed with euphoria, and Anthony thought the sight of Sören in orgasmic bliss was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen. "You're good. I've never come from oral before, but you... wow."
"I love sucking cock, what can I say."
Sören's face lit up again and Anthony smiled back. "Something else we have in common." Sören glanced down at Anthony's hard erection, dripping precum down the shaft. "You want me to take care of that?"
"I normally wouldn't turn down a blowjob but I want to fuck you senseless. If you're OK with that."
"I'd say twist my arm, but..." Sören looked down at his bound wrists and they laughed together.
Anthony knew that T had given Sören a refractory period - just like a cis man - and he would need some time to recharge and get ready again. Anthony waited, petting Sören's curls with one hand and lazily stroking himself with the other. Eventually they kissed, and a few kisses later Anthony knew Sören was good to begin again. He wanted to make sure Sören was very ready, however - he wanted Sören begging for his cock. So, with Sören still tied up and helpless, Anthony went for another round worshiping Sören's body, hands roaming over him, fingers walking, brushing, kissing here, licking there, loving every inch of him.
Not just with his touch, his kiss, but also his words. "You're such a good boy, going back to practice. So brave. So strong. I'm so proud of you. This is what good boys get." Anthony's tongue made a slow trail down Sören's stomach; he smiled at Sören's shiver.
"Fuckkkkkk..."
"You're a good boy for trusting me, too. All tied up and helpless... I could do anything to you I wanted, but you know I won't hurt you." Anthony kissed along the seam of Sören's thigh. "You know you're safe with me, because I love you."
"Fuck, yes."
"Right now, this is the only thing that exists, is me loving you, taking care of you, the way you deserve." Anthony kissed and licked Sören's inner thigh. "Just us." Anthony kissed and licked up Sören's stomach.
Anthony continued to kiss and caress Sören's torso and thighs, and his balls felt ready to explode between his lust for Sören's body and those moans, but he kept himself in check until Sören grit his teeth and snarled, "Will you fucking fuck me before I die."
Anthony laughed softly, kissed him, and untied Sören's wrists. "As you wish."
While Anthony's all-time favorite position was being ridden by his bottom, he liked just about any position where he could top... and in keeping with the mood of helping Sören let go, Anthony decided on a position where he had more control. He climbed atop Sören and took him, groaning as Sören's slick velvet heat wrapped around him. When he was fully inside, they kissed deeply.
Anthony thrust slowly at first, driving them both crazy, and then he gave in and let Sören have it, rocking his hips wildly, plunging in and out, balls smacking, Sören's cunt making delicious sloppy sounds, the bed slamming against the wall. Sören clung to him for dear life, arms and legs wrapped around him, nails digging into his back - Anthony loved Sören clawing him - and they kissed passionately, moaning teogether. When Anthony felt himself getting closer, trying to hold back, he began kissing Sören's neck. "Want you," he growled.
"Need you," Sören rasped.
They kissed again, then Anthony licked and nibbled at Sören's neck. "You're mine. You belong to me, and you're safe with me."
"Yes." Sören claimed his mouth.
Anthony reached down and began playing with Sören's clit-cock, jerking it like he would a cis bottom's cock. He was about to lose control, and he wanted Sören to come too. "Show me who you belong to and come for me. Be my good boy and come -"
"Oh, fuck!" Sören threw his head back and let out a strangled growl.
The feel of Sören's inner walls clenching and pulsating - and Sören's nails raking his back - sent Anthony over the edge, biting Sören's shoulder with a growl of his own as he let go, coming hard. It felt like the entire universe was exploding around him in fire and light, and it was glorious. They kissed deeply, rubbed noses, and kissed again more tenderly. "I love you," Anthony said.
"I love you."
They rolled onto their sides, holding each other, legs entwined. After a little while Anthony's stomach growled, disturbing the peace. "I should eat something," Anthony mumbled, not exactly in a hurry to get out of bed - he was too cozy tangled up with the man he loved.
Sören gave him a pointed look.
Anthony cackled, and tweaked Sören's nose. "You're bloody incorrigible."
"Takk."
Anthony kissed the tip of Sören's nose. But Sören's comment sent his mind right back to the gutter, and the thought of eating Sören out again was more appealing than the thought of food for the time being. So he slid down, parted Sören's legs, and got to work, licking and sucking Sören's clit-cock, eating his cum out of Sören's cunt, until Sören was a quivering mess, almost sobbing as he begged "fuck me, oh fuck, please, fuck me." With an exaggerated sigh Anthony finally relented and gave Sören what he wanted, rolling Sören onto his stomach.
He took Sören from behind, on his knees, their hips smacking together as Anthony fucked him hard, and Sören grabbed the pillows white-knuckled, moaning and swearing in Icelandic. But as Anthony felt himself rushing to that edge, he made himself slow down, once again not wanting to be selfish, wanting Sören's pleasure too. With his chest against Sören's back, he kissed and licked the back of Sören's neck and shoulder, thrusting slowly. He turned Sören's head towards his and they kissed open-mouthed, tongues rubbing together slowly, sensually, in the same rhythm of their fuck. They kissed and kissed, until Anthony was back on that edge. He kissed and nibbled Sören's neck, growling. He grabbed Sören by the hair with one hand, and reached around to play with Sören's clit with the other. When he felt Sören's inner thighs shaking and knew Sören was right there too, he shoved his slick fingers in Sören's mouth for him to taste himself, pulled Sören's curls with the other, and husked, "Come for me," just before nipping where Sören's neck and shoulder met.
Sören whimpered around the fingers in his mouth and once again Anthony climaxed at the feel of Sören's cunt gripping his cock, throbbing. He shuddered against Sören, moaning as he spent and spent and spent, feeling like his entire body was liquefying like the cum filling his lover. Sören gave a happy sigh and Anthony took both his hands and squeezed.
"I love you so, so, so much," Anthony said; the room was spinning and he felt floaty.
"I love you too." Sören chuckled. "You spoil me."
"You deserve to be spoiled every day for the rest of your life." And then Anthony thought to himself, I want to spend my life with you, but didn't say it aloud.
He did, however, come up with a plan, through the haze of his pleasure, about how he would go about discussing the future with Sören. Bigots be damned, he wanted the entire world to know how much he loved this man.