Sören slept in until late afternoon the next day - he'd been up until dawn working on the painting of Marilwen the paladin, even though Sharon was angry with him and needed space for awhile; he still had her notebook, and it seemed somehow more important than before to work on this gift for her, like a sort of peace offering.
He also felt compelled by the woman he was painting. Enough that he dreamed of her. And Sharon. When he finally went to sleep in the morning, in his dream Sharon and the paladin were making love together, then he was in bed with both of them, tasting them, taking one then the other. Which then turned into dreaming of Mark, taking him, being taken by him. He and Mark were in a forge, and the heat between them was like its own furnace. He wore nothing but the crown that had recurred in his dreams as of late, could feel the jewels thrumming against his brow, glowing upon Mark, the fire returned in Mark's eyes. Mark's teeth in him, as Sharon's had been. Blood of my blood.
Sören had woken up hard and aching. He stroked himself, then lay there feeling sad, but he couldn't stay in bed all day. When he was sufficiently recovered from his orgasm he went to the bathroom and then stumbled out to the kitchen. As he took his meds, Mark walked in the kitchen. Mark was fully dressed - jeans and a KISS T-shirt - and Sören was wearing flannel pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. Sören felt almost like he was naked, such was the vulnerability he felt in Mark's presence, like he was exposed somehow. He swallowed hard, looking away as he finished taking his meds.
"Hi," Mark said, finally.
"Hi."
"Did you manage to find something to eat last night?"
Sören nodded. "I finished the leftover pizza."
Mark also nodded.
There was awkward silence and then Sören sighed - if Mark was upset about Sören bailing on him the other night, he had to fix this, somehow. He had to try. He put his drink down, walked over to Mark, and gave him a tight hug. After a moment Mark returned the hug and Sören breathed a sigh of relief, a lump in his throat, tears in his eyes as he leaned on him. A part of Sören was screaming Just tell him how you feel already but Sören wasn't ready yet. He didn't know if he'd ever be ready, terrified that he would be rejected, that it would make the rest of the summer uncomfortable, that he'd lose Mark as a friend. He desperately did not want to have these feelings. But they were there, and as comforting as the hug was, it was also excruciating, Sören feeling a frisson of arousal again even though he'd just come.
Now was not the time for making things further complicated; now was the time to try to smooth over troubled waters. Sören swallowed hard. "I'm sorry," he said simply.
"For?"
They pulled apart, but their eyes held. "The other night. Leaving you to go see Sharon -"
"Sören, we've been over this -"
"Mark, you've said it's fine but I'm not blind. You've been acting really..." Sören made a vague hand gesture. "Like it pissed you off. Which, I wasn't trying to be a shitty friend, but I can see how it came off as a case of the friend who abandons his friend over a partner and I'm really, really sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings but I can't help thinking I did and I really want to make it up to you."
There was a pause and Mark said finally, "Apology accepted."
"And now I need an apology from you in return, because if there's one thing I really fucking hate, it's people playing games with me. I'm not a mindreader - if something's truly not OK, just tell me it's not OK, tell me I fucked up, instead of saying 'it's fine' while you avoid me like I have a contagious disease or something."
Mark sighed and then he nodded. "Fair enough. I'm sorry, Sören." He looked down, and then back up. "The thing is, I wasn't trying to be passive-aggressive. I wanted it to be fine. I wasn't particularly happy with myself for acting je-" Mark shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Acting just like some annoying person who needs to be attached at the hip all the time. I felt like it was unfair of me, she was upset and you were going to comfort her..." His voice trailed off. "Anyway, water under the bridge?"
Sören hugged him again.
They went from the kitchen down the hall towards their respective bedrooms. "So that rain check for dinner..." Mark said. "I'll take it tonight. You know, if you don't have plans with Sharon or anything."
"I don't, no, and that works for me. Do you have anywhere in mind?"
Mark shrugged. "I'm flexible."
"Hi Flexible, I'm -"
Mark gave him a look. Sören laughed, and then Mark gave him a playful swat.
Sören decided he was going to take a shower. Then, before he could get in the shower - while he was shirtless but still had his pajama pants on - he called down to Mark. "Are we going anyplace fancy? I ask before I go to the trouble of putting clothes on."
Mark stepped out of the bedroom, glanced at Sören, quickly looked down, and licked his lips before he spoke. "Well, I'd rather not go to a fast food place but I also don't want to go someplace that requires me to wear a tie or something else dressy. Besides which, even if I felt like someplace upscale..." He gestured to Sören. "Your neck is still a mess, and it's not quite turtleneck weather."
Sören looked at himself in the mirror and his face flushed. He'd forgotten about the love bites on his neck from Sharon, which were purple, some fading to greenish-yellow. "Oh. Jæja, I, ah. That was an oversight when I'd asked about anyplace fancy."
"Yeah."
Before Mark could duck back into his room, Sören asked, "Indian food all right?" That seemed like a nice medium between fast food and someplace too expensive and dressy.
"Indian sounds great, yes."
Sören gave the thumbs up and went back into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Today it was his turn for Mark to walk out when he was getting out of the shower, curls damp, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. Mark was coming from the kitchen down the hall, and paused for a moment, blinking; Sören quickly went down the hall to his room, face on fire, not wanting his towel to start tenting up around him. In his room Sören took a few deep breaths, flustered, once again feeling that sharp ache and yet unwilling to say anything about it.
When Sören was dressed, in cargo shorts and a plain black T-shirt, he came out. Mark's bedroom door was open and Sören stood there - Mark was sitting on his bed reading Wizard and Glass in Stephen King's Dark Tower series. Mark had his wire-rim glasses on and a look of intense concentration on his face, brow furrowed - Sören thought he looked incredibly sexy, and his mouth went dry. It took a moment for Mark to notice Sören was standing there and Sören's mouth opened, trying to find words.
"Uh," Sören said. "I'm, ah. Ready when you are."
Mark nodded. "Give me five minutes and I'll be out."
Sören put on his own glasses and took a moment to do last-minute preening, even though he felt ridiculous because he didn't think Mark was interested in him at all. When Mark came out of the bedroom they walked out to the Jaguar together, and Sören's heart was racing at the prospect of being in such close proximity to him in the car.
Music helped take the edge off, until Mark started singing along with the radio - "Dream On" by Aerosmith. Sören's stomach fluttered and his gaze kept wandering from the view out the window back over to Mark, in his element singing. Even something like singing along with the radio, he sounded good, had the presence of a rock star.
Once they got to the Indian restaurant, they had to wait a bit to get a table. Sören and Mark sat together on a bench in the waiting area and Sören's heart started racing again feeling Mark right next to him. He had the wild urge to take Mark's hand and hold it while they waited but this isn't a date, you dumbass, we're just friends.
Sören and Mark both went for chicken tikka and a spicy lentil dhal - the food here was much spicier than most of the Indian restaurants Sören had been to, which pleased him. Mark shook his head with disbelief as he teared up at the spices and Sören was taking it like a champ. "Are you part dragon?" Mark asked.
Sören laughed. "It's so weird, because I come from a country where we think something is 'highly spiced' if we put dill in the sour cream, I don't know why I like heat in my food as much as I do, but I do."
"Hm. You throw off a tremendous amount of body heat, too," Mark said, sipping water.
"I feel it. I start to wilt when the temperatures rise above 75 Fahrenheit. It's always been like that, like I'm a living flame or something." Sören shrugged.
Mark almost choked on his water, eyes widening a little. Sören kicked him under the table. "You OK? You still reacting to the heat?" Sören asked.
"Yeah." Mark gave a small smile, looking away. "Definitely... a heat reaction."
"I feel almost kind of bad now, because I wanted this to be for you, and if you don't like the food -"
"Oh no, the food is good. Hotter than what I'm used to but it's pleasant." Mark looked a little pink. "Please don't feel bad."
"Hmmm, do you want to go for a walk on the beach when we get back, get some air?"
"I'll do you one better."
After their meal Mark took them on a drive to Drakes Beach, which was about an hour away. The trip itself was nice and relaxing, watching the scenery on the way there - though hearing Mark sing along with the radio got Sören all aflutter again. Drakes Beach was remote, and on a Monday evening the beach was practically deserted. They were at just the right time to watch the sunset and dusk, walking along the shore for a bit before just sitting and watching the tide, breathing in the salt air, enjoying the cool breeze.
Something about the peace of the empty beach and the changing sky and the air lulled Sören into a half-asleep state for the trip back. He was roused by the sound of Mark turning up the radio when "Bohemian Rhapsody" came on, which they sang along with together, laughing like idiots when the song was over.
As feverish as Sören had been working on the painting the night before, he was in the mood to just be mellow and have a night off when they pulled in. He was afraid he'd disappoint Mark, since the original rain check had included the offer of playing and painting together - which had gotten interrupted when he went off to see Sharon - but before he could ask Mark about it, Mark said, "You want to just chill tonight? Watch a movie or something?"
"Yes, please."
Sören had enough of a peaceful, easy feeling that as Mark turned on the flat screen in the living room and set up the guide so they could browse, he dashed down to his room and came back with his bag of weed and glass pipe. He sat next to Mark on the couch as he packed a bowl.
"Toke up with me?" Sören raised an eyebrow.
"I normally don't -"
Sören gave him the sad puppy dog face.
Mark gave an exaggerated sigh in response. He put a hand on Sören's shoulder, which felt like an electric shock. "As you wish."
Sören smiled, and lit the pipe.
They each took three hits and then had a coughing fit. Mark went to the kitchen and came back with water for both of them. "Takk," Sören said, taking the water bottle. Mark sat back down next to him and flipped through the guide.
"We'll have to do a rain check of the rain check," Sören said as he lit the pipe again and passed to Mark. "Like, another night for us to work together."
"That sounds good. No running off next time, though."
"Jæja." Sören looked down, his mind replaying what happened with Sharon in the RV. Worrying about her a little, hoping she was OK.
"At least you had fun." Mark puffed and passed.
"Hahaha... not really."
Mark cocked his head to one side. "Sören, I saw you when you got in -"
"Jæja..." Sören ran a nervous hand through his curls and rubbed his beard before he took another hit. "So, ah. You saw what it looked like, but nothing happened. We made out, but it stopped there. She broke up with Lucas, she was upset, and she was... self-medicating while upset. I have a personal rule about not shagging anyone who's under the influence. A little weed, a little alcohol, that's fine. Past a certain line into the grey area and... well, consent is a big deal to me. She wasn't happy about it."
"I see." Mark pursed his lips. "Yeah, from here it looked like you just... gave her a quick fuck and bolted." He cringed, puffed and passed.
"No. On both counts."
Mark breathed a small sigh, and looked down. Sören puffed, and then he put the pipe down and finished his water. "So, jæja, Sharon is kind of pissed at me that I wouldn't shag her when she was rolling on E, and she said she 'needs some space'. I don't know how long - I'd still like to be friends with her, but..."
"You... did the right thing." Mark patted him.
"I tried. I care about her. Truthfully if she had been sober and she wasn't fresh off her breakup with Lucas I would have hit that. But it wouldn't have gone anywhere except fuckbuddies. We're at two very different places in our lives. And... I'm not really into casual sex anymore. I was, for a long time. But I think the next time I have sex - if I ever have sex again... I want it to be with an actual partner. A companion." Sören rubbed his head, feeling self-conscious, like he was rambling about something that was too personal. He finally looked at the guide to try to distract himself from his train of thought, and then he found himself grabbing Mark's wrist before Mark could flip past it. "Oh my fucking god, Plan 9 from Outer Space."
"Sören, we are not watching that."
"Oh, come onnnnnnn. I've heard it's really, really bad. I want to see how bloody awful it is. It starts in five minutes." Sören gently shook Mark. "Please... please." He made the sad puppydog face.
Mark rolled his eyes, and grinned. "As you wish."
"Yay!" Sören clapped his hands.
Then Mark said, "Sören." He gave Sören a look. "Did it go over -"
"Did what go over where." Sören was confused.
Mark facepalmed and shook his head. "Never mind. I think the pot is kicking in."
"Oh shit, is this your first high?"
Mark nodded.
"Wow. Oh... we should get munchies ready." Sören went to the kitchen and came back with a box of Cheezits and a bag of cheese curls, which they'd picked up at the store. Mark wasn't a fan of the latter, but he opened the box of Cheezits and took one, nibbling on it thoughtfully as Sören took the remote and flipped to the channel where Plan 9 from Outer Space was starting.
The movie was even worse than people said it was, and under the influence of marijuana it was hysterically funny. Moreso when Sören started singing "Bela Lugosi's Dead" by Bauhaus and made Mark spray a mouthful of Cheezits, and Sören laughed so hard at Mark spraying Cheezits that he started snorting, which made Mark fall off the couch. When Mark got back on the couch he shook his head at Sören. "I feel like such a dork right now," Mark said.
"I've got news for you. You're always a dork."
"Ha ha."
"Not that I can talk." Sören put a cheese curl in each nostril, and gave Mark a serious, dramatic look. Mark doubled over, eyes tearing, face red, heaving with silent laughter.
"Sören, why..."
"Why, indeed." Sören stroked his beard. "Still makes more sense than this fucking movie."
"I told you."
"You did. I have no regrets though. Mostly." He took the cheese curls out of his nose.
"Just remember that future events will affect you in, like, the future."
Sören snorted again. "I'm not high enough for that to not be stupid."
The movie was to be followed up by Zardoz. Mark laughed when he saw the announcement at the bottom of the screen. "I see they're having awful sci-fi movies all week."
They decided to watch that too. This time they moved from the couch to watch it on the TV in Mark's bedroom, so they could stretch out; Mark and Sören took their glasses off. It was just as well because at the sight of a younger Sean Connery wearing a red diaper, it was Sören's turn to double over, wheezing and tearing up - he would have fallen off the couch if they were still in the living room. Mark got up and brought Sören back some water, which he drank when he calmed down.
The laughter had made Sören relax enough that between that, sitting in a reclining position and the buzz from the marijuana he was getting sleepy. He tried to make himself stay awake to finish the movie, but he found himself dozing off.
Some time later Sören woke up and he and Mark were curled up together - Mark was also sleeping. The TV was off. Sören felt for a moment like he should get up and go back to his own bed, like he was crossing some sort of line by staying here even though they'd slept in the same bed before a few times now, but before he could do that, Mark stirred, blinked, and then put an arm around Sören, pulling him closer. "Cozy," he mumbled.
Sören's face burned. It did feel good to lay here like this with him - a warm, safe nest. Sören snuggled into Mark's shoulder and he rubbed Mark's back a little, smiling as Mark's breath slowed down and he watched the eyes close again, chest rising and falling slowly in the glow of the nightlight. He is so beautiful. Sören fought the urge to give him a little kiss, and soon he was asleep again.
He woke once more with a hard-on and the need to go to the bathroom. He bit back a little groan at the time - just after three in the morning. When he got back in Mark's room, Mark was sitting up, looking at the clock, and then at Sören.
"We took a nap, I guess," Sören said, feeling self-conscious about returning to Mark's room with the intent to get back in bed with him rather than going to his own room.
But there seemed to be no judgment on Mark's part as he nodded. "I guess we did." He yawned and stretched. He looked down at his jeans. "Still in street clothes."
"We were pretty high." Sören laughed softly. "I'm still a little high. I could go for something to eat... not more snacks, though. Ice cream sounds good..."
"Oh, I think we're out of all the ice cream. And that does sound good, so that's kind of a shame."
"We're at the right time to go to Denny's."
Mark laughed. "You want me to drive to Denny's?"
"If you're not too fucked up to drive."
"No, I think I can drive. Just..." He shook his head, grinning. "You and Denny's."
"Well, I mean, you don't have to..."
Mark got up. "As you wish." He gestured to Sören. "Come on, you."
They had ice cream at Denny's, continuing to make fun of the movies they'd watched, and on the way back, instead of driving straight home, Mark drove to the Marin Headlands. They hiked up Hawk Hill and watched the sunrise together. It wasn't foggy this time, though there was a bit of a breeze, and Sören's breath caught at the play of colors in the sky, blue and lavender streaked with red, orange, pink and gold washing over the San Francisco Bay. Mark's arms came around him from behind and Mark gave him a little squeeze. Then Mark began to sing:
Morning has broken, like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for them springing fresh from the word
Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlit from heaven
Like the first dew fall, on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where his feet pass
Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, Eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God's re-creation of the new day
Morning has broken, like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for them springing fresh from the word
Sören sighed. The song was appropriate for the sense of awe and wonder he felt watching the sun rising over the water and the Golden Gate Bridge, the view that seemed almost endless. And Mark's voice was like the fire in the sky melting into the water, the air around them all golden. Sören had chills, his stomach doing flip-flops, and when he turned his head to look at Mark, whose hair was stirring in the breeze, eyes a light silver in the golden haze of sunrise, Sören fought yet another urge to kiss him. But oh, how good those strong arms felt around him, comforting and reassuring.
How good it had felt to sleep beside him, earlier. Sören could get used to that, and it bothered him.
Mark put on The Alan Parsons Project on the way back, a change from hair metal. Back at the house Sören took his night meds and before he could retire to his room Mark asked, "So later tonight... I play, you paint?"
"Sounds good. And... thank you for the rain check."
"Thank you." Mark smiled, and then looked down, lingering for a moment, taking a look at Sören before he went to his own room.
Thinking of Mark holding him, Sören went back to sleep.