Later in the evening, there was a knock on Sören's bedroom door. Sören tried to ignore it, and then Mark knocked again, more loudly.
"Sören, come eat."
"I'm not hungry," Sören lied. "Please go away."
Sören heard Mark swear under his breath as he walked off.
Sören was up all night, trying to re-read Sharon's stories, but his mind kept going back to being caught masturbating, reliving the shame all over again. Once again he thought about calling an Uber the next day or the day after, going to the train station, going back to Oregon. And he told himself, Wait, and maybe things will blow over. You paid a lot of money to rent this place for the summer, and you're not getting a refund. Taking a loss however felt like a small price to pay compared to the feeling that he'd fucked everything up.
Sören finally slept at sunrise - a muted sunrise with the overcast day. When he woke up it was after four PM, and his head was pounding. He hadn't taken his night meds last night, hadn't left his room apart to go to the bathroom. His meds were in the kitchen. He was going to need to take them. He didn't want to leave his room, didn't even want to leave the bed. It was raining now, and Sören lay there for awhile staring up at the ceiling, listening to the rain, something that usually soothed him, but today he just felt so hopeless, and he started to cry.
After five PM there was another knock on his door.
"Sören."
Sören let out a sigh.
Another knock. "Sören."
"What," Sören called out.
"You need to take your meds. And you haven't eaten anything. I'm not a doctor, but I know if you go too long without food and hydration, it isn't good with the medication you're on. I'm making dinner, it's nearly ready - I know it's earlier than we usually eat, but you haven't eaten, and I insist you come out and have dinner with me."
"Mark, I -"
"Sören, look, I'm not mad at you. And... I miss you. I'd like to see you."
Sören choked up at that. His jaw quivered, there was a tearing ache at his chest. Even after what he'd seen yesterday, Mark seemed all right with him. Like Sören hadn't irrevocably fucked up after all.
"You... you miss me?" Sören's voice broke a little.
"Yes, Sören. Come out of your room, for fuck's sake."
A few minutes later Sören came out of his room, staggered to the bathroom, and then out to the kitchen. His head was killing him now, and Mark watched from a few feet away as Sören took his meds. Sören tried very hard to not look at him - still feeling embarrassed - and watched the rain out the glass door.
"That's a start," Mark said, when Sören closed up his med minder.
Sören ran a nervous hand through his curls. He felt like death warmed over. "I need a shower," he said.
"All right. Go shower, dinner will be ready when you're done."
"What are you making?" Sören found he felt absolutely famished.
"It's a surprise."
Mark had just the faintest hint of a smile. Not at all the body language of someone who was freaked out by what happened yesterday. Sören opened his mouth, thinking about asking about it, but then he decided not to - he was just now starting to relax a little after being wound up for so long, and he needed the calm right about now.
Getting into the shower did him some more good, turning the water on as hot as he could stand it, taking awhile to just stand under the water and let it soothe his tense, aching muscles. The scent of his body wash also helped take his mind elsewhere, and when he came out of the shower he felt almost as good as new.
He changed into blue plaid pajama bottoms and a plain heather grey T-shirt, not planning on going anywhere. He heard the stereo as he came out - Mark had on Sade, which Sören found intriguing and amusing since he hadn't as yet heard Mark listen to anything but classical and rock. As he approached the living room he saw the fireplace was turned on, the first time the fire had been lit since they'd been at the cabin, but it was a cool, rainy day and the fire would be nice and cozy. Then as Sören came closer, the lights went off in the living room and Sören noticed the mantle on top of the fireplace was lit by candles and lanterns.
There were blankets and pillows spread out in front of the fire. A pot of what looked like fondue, with a loaf of French bread and an assortment of things to dip into the fondue - bacon, chicken, fingerling potatoes, grilled mushrooms, roasted cauliflower and zucchini. There was also an assortment of what looked like grapes, raspberries, strawberries and a bowl of Cool Whip.
And then Sören's eyes found Mark. Wearing a black silk robe, with a bit of his chest exposed. No glasses on. Propped up on one elbow - Sören was reminded of the "draw me like one of your French girls" scene from Titanic.
Sören's eyebrow went up. This seemed a bit fancy, even as an attempt at feeding him well for not having eaten in over twenty-four hours, even as an attempt to try to assure him things were fine. It looked romantic, even, which... that couldn't be it, could it?
Sören came over slowly, cautiously, his heart racing a little, stomach fluttering, as he carefully sat down on the blankets, not wanting to disturb the food. "What..." Sören swallowed hard. "What's all this?"
Mark sat up, and then before Sören knew what was happening, Mark took Sören's face in his hands, pulled Sören towards him, and kissed him hard.
Sören found himself responding to the kiss, lips parting. When their tongues met Sören moaned into the kiss and again as their tongues swirled together, slowly, sensually. One of Mark's hands pet Sören's damp curls and the other stroked his cheek, his beard. Sören's eyes opened, wide with disbelief, and at the heat in Mark's eyes, like molten silver, Sören shivered. The kiss deepened, tongues dancing, playing. Mark was a good kisser, if not the best kiss Sören had ever had. Sören's cock stirred in his pajama bottoms, and when they pulled apart, both breathing hard, Sören looked down at the bulge in his pajamas, face burning, and then at Mark, who was smiling.
"You..." Sören licked his lips, nervous. "You kissed me." He realized after that came out of his mouth how idiotic it sounded, but it felt so surreal.
"Sören." Mark raised an eyebrow. "Is it not obvious that I'm completely smitten with you?"
In his fluster, Sören grasped for levity. "Hi Completely Smitten With You -"
Mark took a slice of bread and threw it at Sören, who laughed before he dipped it in the fondue. He was starving and the melted cheese was delicious - like grilled cheese but even better.
When Sören finished his first bit of fondue, Mark took Sören's hands in his. "Sören. I mean it. I've fallen hard for you."
"So have I." Sören's voice was husky, and he blinked back tears. He couldn't believe this was happening, his heart soaring. "I... wow. Really?"
"Really." Mark sighed. "I tried to drop some hints but they went over your head. I thought since we watched Princess Bride that you'd get it when I said 'as you wish'."
Sören facepalmed. "Oh my fucking god, I'm a dumbass. When Westley says 'as you wish' it means 'I love you' -"
Mark just nodded. Then he dipped a piece of bacon in the fondue and fed Sören from his fingers, like he was a pet. "The night that we were going to create together and you got the call from Sharon and went off with her... I was planning on telling you. I was planning on doing more than just telling you, I was planning on putting the moves on you."
"Oh my god."
"So I lost my nerve, a bit, especially when it looked like you'd, ah."
"Jesus, no wonder you reacted the way you did."
"Yeah, I was a bit jealous, and I felt like an asshole for feeling that way. But eventually I got my nerve back - when I told you yesterday I wanted to talk to you and get your opinion about something, last night, I was going to try again. Obviously, those plans got disrupted."
"Yeah." Sören looked down.
"It's been hell, pining for you."
"Pining for my fjörds?"
Mark rolled his eyes. "Yes, Sören, pining for your fjörds."
"Well..." Sören waggled his eyebrows. "I'll show you my fjörds if you show me yours."
Now it was Mark's turn to facepalm. He rolled his eyes, laughed, and threw another piece of bread at Sören. "You fucking dork."
Sören laughed, dipping the bread into the fondue, taking a bite.
Mark sighed, then, and planted a small kiss on the tip of Sören's nose. "Don't ever change." He stroked Sören's cheek.
Mark fed him another piece of fondue bacon. Sören was starting to get turned on by the act of eating from Mark's fingers, and he reciprocated, dipping a piece of chicken in the pot and feeding Mark. When Mark licked cheese from one of Sören's fingers his cock twinged again. Mark looked at the bulge in Sören's pajamas but said nothing, only fed Sören again, this time one of the fingerling potatoes.
"So..." Sören took a deep breath. "Yesterday." He hadn't wanted to talk about it, but here they were, and it felt like it was necessary, now.
Mark nodded. He let Sören feed him cauliflower - taking another lick at Sören's finger - before responding. "When I came home and saw... what I saw... it was all I could do to not pounce on you, lick you clean, replace your toy with the real thing."
"Why didn't you?"
"You told me to go away. I know your ex raped you. Which is a big reason why I've been treading so carefully with all of this - I haven't wanted to trigger you or make you feel unsafe at all. I could see you were panicking yesterday from having been caught and I so very desperately wanted to comfort you and let you know it was OK... it was more than OK, that was one of the hottest things I'd ever seen in my entire life. And I didn't know how you'd respond in the panic. I just... didn't want to hurt you, Sören. And when you told me to go away I felt like it was a very bad idea for me to try to press it."
"Oh, Mark." Sören blinked back tears again, deeply touched by the amount of care and consideration. The complete opposite of Seth. It made him love Mark even more.
"Even tonight, I felt like I was taking a risk by setting things up, letting you know how I feel, but. I had to, finally. I didn't want you to shut yourself away feeling like you'd done something wrong."
Sören threw his arms around Mark and for a moment they just held each other; Mark stroked Sören's curls, kissed the top of his head. Then he took Sören's chin in his hand and they shared another kiss. Sören was aching for release, just about ready to say to hell with dinner - delicious though it was - and let Mark ravish him, but Mark had gone to a lot of trouble and he was starving.
Mark poured them each a glass of moscato. Sören sipped, and they took a few more minutes to reflect on everything, taking turns feeding each other. Getting more bold with licking and sucking each other's fingers. Then, Mark licked some cheese from Sören's chin, and they kissed again.
"We don't have to do anything you don't want to do," Mark said when they pulled apart, breathing hard. "If you're not ready -"
"Oh believe me," Sören said, meeting his eyes, "I'm ready. I want you to make love to me."
They kissed, deep and hungry. As Sören had another bite of fondue chicken, Mark began kissing and licking his neck. Sören cried out - it was one of his most sensitive, erogenous places - and Mark groaned into his neck.
When Mark pulled back, Sören took off his shirt. The fire was almost too hot. Mark's eyes could drill through granite as he looked at Sören shirtless, pierced nipples hard from arousal. They continued to feed each other more pieces of cheese-dipped bacon, chicken, and vegetables, working through the pot of fondue. And then Sören inevitably dripped cheese onto his bare chest, and Mark's tongue chased it, "innocently" straying to brush a nipple. Sören gasped, clutching Mark's head, and he let out a little whimper as Mark's tongue lapped, making his already-pebbled nipple even more exquisitely sensitive, then trailed up Sören's chest, up his throat, to claim his mouth again.
As Sören fed Mark the last of the chicken, Mark sucked on his fingers and Sören felt like he could come just from the sight of Mark's lips wrapped around his index and middle fingers, the look in those silver eyes, the feeling of his mouth on sensitive skin. Sören's entire body felt sensitized and they had barely started yet. A frisson went down his spine as they polished off the remaining bacon and vegetables, cleaned the remnants of the cheese in the pot with the bread. Mark moved the tray off to the side.
"Dessert?" Mark gestured to the fresh fruit and cream.
"Later." Sören grabbed Mark's shoulders and shoved him back against the pillows, kissing him like his life depended on it.