Sören smiled as he woke up yet again to Mark's kisses, his giggles becoming moans as Mark kissed his neck and shoulder, rubbing against him. Sören loved feeling how hard Mark was for him already, hardness that his body quickly returned, Sören letting out a deep groan as their mouths met once more and Sören's cock sprang to life, throbbing urgently.
"Want you," Mark ground out, before taking a lick at Sören's neck.
"You can have me," Sören husked, taking Mark's face in his hands, and kissed him deeply. "Any way you want me."
Mark kissed him back. "I want to taste you."
"Mmmmm, yes." Sören rolled onto his back and arched to him. "Please."
Usually Mark took his sweet time getting there, kissing and licking Sören all over, but now he slid right down and Sören gasped as he watched Mark's lips wrap around his cock, hungrily taking as much as he could into his mouth. Sören moaned and clutched Mark's head, bucking up against him, and bucked again as Mark began sucking him hard and fast, fucking Sören with his mouth, like he was starving for it.
Sören loved it. He'd had a lot of blowjobs over the years, and some of them had even been good blowjobs... and then there was Mark. Mark's oral skills were second to none, and already this was one of the best blowjobs he'd ever had. Mark was working his tongue as he sucked, now, and Sören was trembling, even his thighs quivering, white-knuckled. "Ohgod," Sören panted. "Ohgod... Mark... oh fuck..."
"Mmmmmmmmm." Their eyes met. The look of lust in those silver eyes almost set Sören off right then.
Sören started to roll his hips, gently thrusting into Mark's mouth. Mark's sucking became even more eager, and Sören gasped for breath. Now he was whimpering, so close...
Mark couldn't resist teasing just a little. He let Sören's cock slip from his mouth and lapped at it, making Sören howl with frustration. Mark laughed softly before his tongue licked at the sensitive frenulum. "We'll get there, baby. Soon."
Sören growled, and Mark responded by taking the ring of Sören's Prince Albert piercing between his teeth and giving a playful little tug. Sören gave a cry - aroused not just by the sensation, but by how hot that looked - and he cried out again as Mark licked up the precum that pooled down his cock.
Mark gave another little tug at the ring in the head of Sören's cock, groaning in response to Sören's moan, before taking Sören's cock back into his mouth and sucking away. Sören grabbed the headboard, breathing so hard he was heaving. He shivered again, thighs bearing down, the tension squeezing his balls. "Oh fuck. Ohfuckohgodohfuck... Mark... fuck..." The pleasure and tension was coursing down his spine, filling his balls, his cock almost painful in its need for release.
Mark kept him on that edge, until Sören shook and managed to get out a deep, guttural, "OhgodMark I'm gonna... oh, fuuuuuuuuckk..." just before his orgasm pulled him under.
He felt like couldn't stop coming, and Mark drank him down, swallowing and lapping up all Sören had to give. A few last teasing licks at the head of Sören's cock, giving him aftershocks as Mark's tongue collected the last of the cum, and then Mark husked, "You are fucking delicious," before coming up to kiss Sören.
Sören's orgasm was intense enough that normally he'd want to lay there blissed out for awhile, maybe doze off again, but the wicked look in Mark's eyes made him hungry. Sören shoved Mark onto his back with a growl, and quickly scooted down to take Mark's hard, dripping cock in his mouth, eyes locking with Mark's as he began to suck, feeling almost furious in his need to return pleasure.
"Oh, Sören." Mark grabbed Sören's curls, gently thrusting into Sören's mouth. "Oh, love."
Sören rubbed his tongue as he sucked, knowing how Mark liked it. One of Sören's hands cupped Mark's balls and slowly rubbed, and the fingers of the other played around the rim of Mark's opening, tracing it, rubbing against it, just shy of dipping inside. His hands went slow as his mouth went fast and hard, devouring, feasting.
It didn't take long for Sören to bring Mark to that edge where he was a shaking, panting, incoherent wreck, eyes feverish. Sören loved the sight of him wild and out of control, the sounds he made as he pushed ever closer to surrender. It made Sören harden up again, rubbing against the bed. And when Sören pushed his fingers inside Mark, finding that sweet spot right away, rubbing it, Mark gasped out, "Sören... oh god, Sören, I'm gonna come..."
"Mmmmmmmm. Mmmmhmmm." Sören wanted it, greedy for it.
Mark came with a cry. Feeling Mark contract and pulse against his fingers as his sweet cream flowed, Sören almost came too. He drank it up, savoring the taste of the man he loved, and as he watched Mark's cock continue to drip its seed and chased it with his tongue, Sören's fingers pulled out of Mark and latched around his own cock, stroking himself. He needed more.
Mark rested for a moment - Sören pet him with his free hand, buried his nose in Mark's hair. Then Mark noticed Sören playing and Mark's hand covered Sören's on his cock, making Sören groan appreciatively.
"You," Mark said, sucking Sören's lower lip into his mouth before letting it go, "are insatiable." He kissed Sören, and Sören grinned as they nuzzled.
"You make me insatiable," Sören said.
They kissed again, and then Mark started to move into the sixty-nine position, and Sören moaned. He moaned again as he swallowed down Mark's cock, and felt Mark's mouth on his.
They sucked more slowly and languidly this time, and there was a lot more teasing, licking each other's cocks and balls. Sören was content to spend the entire day in bed, hours if necessary, enjoying the journey of sex as much as the destination of orgasm. Mark had a beautiful cock and he loved worshiping it, and feeling his own cock worshiped in return.
But there was only so long they could play like this before they couldn't take it anymore, fucking each other's mouths, sucking hungrily, completely lost in sensation and lust and passion. Sören came first, screaming around the cock in his mouth, and a few seconds later he was rewarded with Mark flooding his mouth too, moaning around him, both of them shaking with the force of their release, toes curling. They took each other's hands, and after Sören drank all he could he made soft little moans and sighs as his orgasm continued to throb, at last coming down into that wonderful floaty, glowy place of perfect peace.
Mark came up, snuggled against him, and they kissed. Sören loved the way they tasted the lingering flavor of each other in the kiss, tasting good together.
They were very, very good together.
Sören and Mark smiled at each other, nuzzled, and curled up together, an arm around each other, legs entwined. Sören started to doze off, and then he heard loud pounding at the door.
Mark raised an eyebrow, and looked at Sören, and then sat up. Another round of banging at the door.
"Jesus, I hope that's not neighbors complaining about the noise we made last night." Sören giggled.
Mark laughed too, and threw on a robe. He went to the door and Sören heard an exchange of male voices that sounded pleasant enough, a "sign here," and then Mark telling whoever it was to have a nice day.
"Oh Sören," Mark called down from the living room. "You have a package that came all the way from Reykjavik, Iceland."
Sören let out an excited yell, threw on a T-shirt and boxer-briefs, and tore down the hall, though not as fast as he would have liked, trying to be mindful of his asthma. He let out a squeak as he took the package from Mark, and Mark grinned.
"You're so cute," Mark said.
"I need a scissor," Sören said.
Mark went to the kitchen and came back with scissors and Sören's morning meds. Sören cut off the brown paper wrapped around the box, then took his meds as he saw he was going to have to cut open the box itself.
"I'm gonna jump in the shower," Mark said.
"Oh... all right." Sören felt a little disappointed - at some point he wanted to shower with Mark - but it was perhaps just as well because he'd just want to march Mark back to bed and he really wanted to see what was in Ari's care package.
Sören finally got the box open as the shower started down the hall. There were two bubble-wrapped bottles of Applesin, an orange soda popular in Iceland. A package of Froskur, a chocolate-covered green goo candy shaped like a frog. A box of Nóa Konfekt, fine chocolates in a box with a picture of an Icelandic landscape on the box. Underneath the box of chocolates was an English-language copy of The Silmarillion by J.R.R. Tolkien, with a handwritten post-it note on the cover that said Nokkur létt sumarlestur, LOL! "Yeah, light summer reading," Sören said with an eyeroll, having heard the book was a bit dense. Next to the book was the pièce de résistance - a bag of Appolo brand licorice. Sören let out another squeak and actually hugged and kissed the bag of licorice. It wasn't that licorice candy was unavailable in the States but nothing was really quite like what he could get back home. And Icelanders loved their licorice.
Sören put the bottles of Applesin in the fridge. Since it was still morning, he was hesitant about having any of the candy, but then he said to himself, "Fuck it, part of being an adult means I can have candy for breakfast if I fucking want to," and when Mark came down the hall fresh from the shower in jeans, shirtless and pulling on a T-shirt, he saw Sören eating a Froskur.
Mark gave him a disapproving look. "What are you doing?"
Sören proffered a Froskur. "Try one."
Mark pulled one out of the bag. "Frogs?" He bit into it. "Dear god, why is it green."
Sören snickered, enjoying Mark's reaction. "Mmmmmmmmmmmmm."
"I wondered if you and Björk were just, like, anomalies, but no, apparently your entire country is weird," Mark said, finishing the frog candy.
"Takk." Sören had another Froskur. "God, I haven't had one of these in ages. I'm becoming a citizen next year, but goddamn sometimes I get homesick."
"I bet," Mark said. "What else did you get?"
"Couple bottles of soda which are in the fridge - probably need to calm down from being shaken up in transit - and a book, and some more candy." Sören showed off the Appolo licorice.
"Oh my," Mark said. "You know, I haven't met too many Americans who like licorice."
"Neither have I," Sören said. "Seth thought it was disgusting." He made a face.
"Seth is disgusting," Mark said, "so his opinion doesn't count."
"I take it you like it then?" Sören perked up.
"I'm not usually hugely into sweets, but it's an acquired taste I picked up when I was in Germany."
"Oh... in the service?"
Mark didn't answer that. "Can I try one?"
Sören opened the Appolo, and Mark took a piece. Then he said, "I've been wanting to bake you cookies for awhile, and I think I know what recipe to try now."
"That's so sweet of you," Sören said.
"Well, you know." Mark smiled. "I want to do nice things for you."
"I'm keeping you," Sören blurted out.
"Good."
Sören's heart skipped a beat, then beat a little faster, his stomach fluttering. They hadn't talked about the future yet - what would happen after this summer - and Sören was still afraid of that conversation. Sören was absolutely sure he wanted to marry Mark, and his desire for that scared him, thinking if he said anything Mark would feel they were moving too fast. But this right here - Mark's "good" to Sören's "I'm keeping you" - this gave him hope that maybe Mark did want this to be long-term, wanted to settle down.
Their eyes met and held, a long moment where it seemed like both of them were reflecting on that exchange.
"So, ah, the cookies," Mark said. "I'll have to go to the store to pick up ingredients -"
"OK, we can do that. I'll take a shower too and then we can go? Maybe go for a little drive first?"
Sören put everything but the licorice back in the box and brought the box to the bedroom, then showered, brushed his teeth, and put on cargo shorts and a black T-shirt.
Mark drove them to the Marin Headlands, since it was a nice sunny day and they'd have a good view of the San Francisco Bay. They hiked up Hawk Hill and sat together on the hill top, snuggling as they took in the view. A blue butterfly came over and rested on Mark's finger, and the serene smile on Mark's face, his hair stirring in the breeze, added to the beauty of the moment, taking Sören's breath away. He burned the image into his memory, wanting to paint that someday.
When the butterfly flittered off Sören took Mark's face in his hands and kissed him hard and deep. Mark moaned into the kiss, and again when Sören shoved him onto his back. They were in a public place - there was no one else around right now, but someone else could come up the hill at any time and catch them, and Sören didn't care. He undid Mark's jeans, freed Mark's cock, and when Mark gasped, "oh god yes," Sören dove down, sucking, needing to express his love this way, the all-consuming passion that Mark roused in him. He felt alive again, after months of grief following the trauma and tragedy of Seth. He wanted to share that feeling of being hungry for life, the glory of these little moments that made life worth living. And as Mark's breath caught, his eyes looking at Sören like he was the only thing in the world as Sören sucked away, Sören got the sense Mark was feeling it too.
Sören brought him off quickly, Mark grabbing his head and bucking with a loud cry as he climaxed. Sören swallowed, and then as he lapped up the last of the cream, he couldn't help but give tender little kisses over Mark's spent cock, which made Mark laugh and pet Sören's curls before pulling him up, pulling him close.
"I love you, baby." Mark held Sören, rocked him, nuzzled his curls.
"I love you too." Sören was hard from sucking Mark off, but he could wait, for now, not wanting to break the spell of this moment of sweetness... and what he'd done had been a gift, wanting to take care of Mark for once, who had taken such good care of him.
Sören managed to calm his libido - for now - by the time they got back in the car.
The trip to the store wasn't long, and when they were at the house again, Mark wanted to get right to work with the cookies. Sören handed over the bag of Appolo licorice and then stretched out on the bed with The Silmarillion but a few pages in his eyes began to glaze over, and he said "haha nope" to himself as he tucked the book away under the box of chocolates. Though he found the idea of the Music beautiful, Eru and the Valar didn't interest him, coming up against that resistance Sören had to religion and the concept of gods. There was something else about the whole Valar business which made him bristly, that he couldn't quite put his finger on, and he didn't want to try to poke at it right now.
Sören strode out to the kitchen. The oven was pre-heating and Mark had his ingredients assembled, starting to mix things together to make the dough. "I came to help," Sören said.
"OK, go wash your hands first," Mark said.
Sören blew a raspberry.
"I don't know where those hands have been," Mark teased. "Handling frog guts again, or something."
"Delicious, delicious frog guts." Sören turned on the sink and began to wash his hands, smiling at the soap bubbles floating.
"You are so weird."
Sören splashed Mark.
Mark came over and slapped Sören's ass. Sören's cock started again at that, and Sören gave a sassy butt wiggle. When Mark came over to put a wet finger in Sören's ear, Sören splashed him again, and then rubbed his ass against Mark.
Mark groaned, and Sören grinned as he felt Mark hard against him. Sören rubbed his ass up on Mark's cock more insistently. "Mmmmmmm," Sören purred.
"You know," Mark rasped, "you're incorrigible."
"Takk."
Mark's arms came around Sören from behind, and he began kissing and licking Sören's neck. He pulled Sören closer to him, and Sören continued rubbing his ass against Mark's hard-on, and now Mark was grinding against him as well. "I love it when you're all slutty like this," Mark whispered, before taking a nibble at Sören's neck.
"Mmmm, you get me hot." Sören moaned as Mark kissed his neck some more. Sören's own cock was throbbing, his balls tight and aching for release. "I love being a slut for you."
And it was true. In the last few months of his relationship with Seth, Sören was repulsed by him, couldn't get it up - Seth had complained about him "laying there like a dead fish". Now, it felt like it never went back down for very long. Sören felt wanton, shameless... like he was in heat. He loved that Mark made him feel that way. It was intoxicating.
"You'd let me take it right now if I wanted to, wouldn't you?" Mark rasped, between kisses at Sören's neck.
"I'd let you take it anytime, anyplace," Sören said, tilting his face, reaching up around Mark to pull him in for a kiss.
That did it. Mark undid Sören's belt, and the button and zipper of Sören's cargo shorts, yanking them down. Then the boxer-briefs as well. Sören's cock twinged again, and now his hole twitched too, wanting Mark in him, needing to be taken, used, fucked. He let out a little whimper as he heard Mark undo his own jeans, and he cried out as he felt Mark's cock rubbing into the crack of his ass. "Oh god, please..." Sören turned off the faucet and grabbed onto the edge of the sink, rubbing back at him. "Please, fuck me..."
"Shit. I need to get lube but I don't want to kill the moment," Mark said, continuing to rub, his arms tightening around Sören, a hand slipping down to play with Sören's cock.
Then Mark said "aha," and he moved Sören over to the counter near the sink and let go for a moment - just a few seconds was too long, but then Sören saw a metal bowl in front of him on the counter, filled with melted butter. Sören let out a wild, hysterical laugh, and then he stopped laughing and let out a moan as he felt fingers slick with warm melted butter push into him.
"Oh, fuck," Sören gasped. "This is so kinky..."
Mark picked up the bowl, poured butter over his hand, and Sören heard the sound of Mark preparing his own cock behind him. Then Mark buttered his hand again and reached around to grab Sören's cock as the tip of Mark's cock began to push against his opening.
Mark buried his face in Sören's curls, tenderly kissing the top of Sören's head as he pushed inside. Sören pushed out as Mark pushed in, and gasped when Mark breached the tight anal ring, gasping again as Mark bottomed out in him, all the way inside. Mark rested there for a moment, panting, making deep, shuddery gasps of his own. Then he rasped, "I love you so much, Sören," before he bent Sören over and had his way with him, thrusting hard.
Sören loved it, rocking his hips back at Mark, grabbing onto the counter white-knuckled. "Oh shit, oh god, yes, fuck me," Sören cried out. He was absolutely frantic for this. There was no fear, no pain. Only pleasure, lust, wild animal need. Mark's cock worked magic on his prostate from this angle, and Mark's hand stroking his cock - slick with butter - made it that much better. And Sören felt free. He never thought he'd want to be bent over something, after what happened, and yet here he was, Mark's cock slamming away inside him, and he loved it. Sören let out a cry, urging Mark on faster, rocking his hips harder, their balls slapping together. "I need this, I need it, more, god, more..."
"Oh, fuck, Sören." Mark's grip tightened on Sören's cock. "Oh, Hells, I want you..."
"Want you so bad." Sören gave a shuddery sigh. "Want you to fuck me and fuck me and fuck me..."
Mark groaned, and he started stroking Sören's cock furiously, with it making an obscene wet sound slick from the butter. "Sören. Oh god. I'm already so close..."
"So am I." Sören shivered, continuing to buck against Mark, who matched his rhythm. "You fuck me so good, you're gonna make me come so fucking hard..."
"God, I want to make you come." Mark slapped Sören's ass.
"Almost there." Sören shivered again. His balls were tightening almost unbearably, and the rubbing inside him and around his cock was too good. And god, he loved being taken like this, by the man he loved.
Mark grabbed Sören's curls with the hand that hadn't been buttered. "Come. For. Me. Now."
Sören screamed as he climaxed, shooting all over the counter, even into the butter. He laughed and cried, the silliness of where his cum had gone, and the euphoria of his orgasm, that feeling of complete surrender to the man he trusted...
"Sören. Oh, Sören, fuck!" Mark trembled against him as he took three last sharp thrusts, and Sören groaned as he felt Mark spending into him, gasped as the hot cum flowed over his sensitized prostate. He loved that feeling.
They caught their breath for a minute, then Sören rose up, and Mark's arms lifted from Sören's waist to wrap around his chest, holding him tight. Sören tilted his face so they could kiss. They kissed and kissed, and in those kisses Sören felt his cock start up again, wanting another round. Sören took Mark's hand and guided it down there, letting Mark feel.
"This is what you do to me," Sören husked.
"Fuck, baby."
Sören let out a little whimper of protest as Mark pulled out of him, and then a gasp as Mark almost violently shoved the bowl of butter farther off to the side. He gasped again when Mark came around to face him, picked him up, and put him down so Sören was sitting on the counter. Then, after a passionate kiss, he gently pushed Sören down, and propped Sören's legs up on his shoulders.
Sören cried out as Mark pushed into him again, also hard once more. It was another hard, wild fuck, with Mark driving into him furiously, stroking Sören's cock in time with his thrusts. The intense look on Mark's face, almost angry, got Sören right on that edge right away. It felt so good, and Mark was so hot, taking him savagely like this, that Sören couldn't help the noises he made, screaming as he rocked his hips back at Mark. The sound of Mark's balls slapping against him and the slick suctioning sound of their fuck competed with Sören's screams, making Sören feel even more wanton and out of control.
When Sören was ready to shoot, Mark aimed Sören's cock so it wouldn't get on his T-shirt, and Sören came all over his own shirt and the wall behind the counter. Sören laughed and cried again, amused by the mess he made, and how good it was to just let go. His laughter became moans as Mark cried out and spent into him again, leaning against the counter as he shook, gasping for breath.
Their eyes met, and Sören sat up and pet Mark's face and hair. They kissed sweetly, softly, then more deeply. Sören collected the cum that continued to drip down his cock and stuck his fingers in Mark's mouth. Watching the look of heat on Mark's face as he tasted Sören again, Sören found himself twinging, wanting more, and Sören knew Mark could feel his hole twitching around the cock still inside him. Sören grabbed Mark and kissed him again.
Mark picked Sören up off the counter and carried him like he weighed nothing across the kitchen. "Put your arms around my back and legs around my waist," Mark growled.
Sören did, and Mark slammed him against the wall, kissing him hungrily. Then Mark pushed into him again.
With Sören wrapped around Mark, his back against the wall, Mark took him hard, kissing him passionately. Sören moaned into each kiss, cried out when Mark found the right rhythm on that place inside him, before Mark kissed him again, groaning along with Sören's moans.
Being taken up against the wall was just as hot to Sören as being fucked on the counter, if not hotter. He couldn't believe that after all the sex this morning, now here they were again and this was round three in the kitchen. He hadn't felt this randy since he was in his early twenties. But it was better, now - an act of love. Magnificent obsession.
"I love you," Sören panted between kisses.
"I love you." Mark kissed him again. "I love you..."
They kissed harder, like they were trying to devour each other. Mark sped up inside him, his strong arms holding Sören safe, as Sören clung to him. As hard as Mark was pounding into him, it still felt loving. Like the frantic, desperate love of two people who had been separated for a very long time, and reunited. Sören felt like he was coming home, to a home he didn't even know he had. He never wanted to stop kissing Mark, never wanted Mark to stop thrusting inside him, that sweet, sweet rubbing, stoking a wild, brilliant fire...
"More," Sören panted. "More, more, more..."
That word was like a mantra of power, surrendering more fully each time, and it also seemed to be like an aphrodisiac to Mark, who growled and nibbled and licked Sören's neck. At last their mouths met again and after a few more hungry kisses Mark whispered, "Come with me, baby."
It was that last climax that finally shattered them, slaking the unquenchable thirst for now. Sören sobbed with joy as he felt the deep, deep relief of orgasm wash over him, a full-body release. It felt so good to be alive.
Mark kissed his tears. Somehow, Mark had carried him into the living room, and Mark was cradling Sören on his lap, rocking him. "Oh, Sören."
"Thank you," Sören whispered.
Now it was Mark's turn to laugh. "Thank you. God, Sören. Fucking Hells, Sören, that was wild."
Sören grinned. They shared a little kiss, and Mark pet Sören's face, his curls. He kissed the tip of Sören's nose. "I can't get over how passionate you are," Mark said. "I'd say you're a little firecracker but it's more like a fucking nuke."
"I could say the same thing about you." Sören rubbed noses with him.
"It's rare to find someone who can keep up with me."
"Same here."
They kissed again, and Mark pulled Sören close, rocking him. "I think I'm keeping you too," Mark told him.
Sören tried not to cry. He knew Mark wouldn't mind if he did, but he didn't want to fall apart right now. Instead, he went for his usual coping method. "Hi Keeping You Too."
Mark took Sören's chin in his hand and gave him a murderous look. Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip, and booped Mark's nose.
Then Mark said, "Shit, I need to get back to these cookies."
"You, ah. Might need to refresh the butter." Sören gave him a guilty look. "I came in the melted butter."
"I know." Mark rolled his eyes and laughed.
Sören sat in the kitchen - wincing every so often as he shifted position in the chair - and watched as Mark made almond licorice cookies with chopped up pieces of licorice. He didn't use the whole bag, which was a relief to Sören since he still wanted some of the candy on its own. As Mark began to put spoonfuls of dough on the cookie sheet, Sören used a fresh spoon to steal a bit of raw cookie dough. Mark glared.
"You know..."
"I know." Sören grinned.
Mark set the timer. Sören felt like getting high, and sat next to Mark and packed a bowl as Mark looked at the guide on TV to see what was on. Then Sören's eyes widened as he recognized a title.
"Holy shit, LazyTown? Is that what I think it is?"
Sören had seen the Icelandic-language version, Latibær. He was not quite eleven when the book came out that the show was based on, and he was not quite twenty when the show debuted - past its target audience, but he and Ari would toke up and watch it for amusement. It made him nostalgic now, missing Ari, almost as if Ari was hugging him from across the pond the day the package came.
Mark had of course never seen LazyTown, and Sören had never seen the English-language version. "We have to watch this," Sören told him. "It's an Icelandic show! It's called Latibær back home."
"I can't believe I'm doing this," Mark muttered.
"Hi Doing This -"
As they smoked a bowl together, Sören completely lost it, doubling over with laughter at the way the show changed from the Icelandic version to the English version.
"Sportacus," Sören howled. "They're... calling... him... fucking... Sportacus."
"What's his name in the Icelandic version?"
"Íþróttaálfurinn. He's an elf in the Icelandic version."
Mark raised an eyebrow.
"Look! His hat hides the tips of his ears." Sören pointed. "Robbie Rotten - who's Glanni Glæpur back home - calls him 'blue elf' in the Icelandic version. I don't know why they don't mention that he's an elf here, I guess an American audience wouldn't believe elves would like eating fruits and things like that, because you all have, like... Keebler elves baking cookies." Sören snickered as he took a hit from the bowl.
Mark gave Sören a weird look as he puffed and passed the pipe back to him.
When the cookies were done, Mark insisted that they cool for a few minutes, and then he brought a plate of cookies out for them to share.
"Oh god, these are so good," Sören said through a mouthful of cookie.
"I'm glad you like them and don't you even," Mark said, realizing that he'd said "I'm".
Sören gave him an innocent face. He had one last hit from the pipe before starting on another cookie. "There's something so wrong about us getting high and watching Latibær - er, LazyTown... eating cookies instead of 'sports candy'." Sören nibbled thoughtfully. "I've never been good at sports, with my asthma. I guess I fail at elfing. That's a word now."
Mark narrowed his eyes. "You what."
"Oh." Sören giggled. "Supposedly, my family has an elven ancestor. I say 'supposedly' because who the fuck knows, really, it was a long time ago, and Iceland had centuries of witch hysteria so people were seeing devils everywhere - and elves were 'devils' back in those days. Still, it's something my great-grandmother was really insistent about, according to my mamma, who told us about it when we were little. And my mamma believed it. She claimed she saw an elf and everything when she was a kid. Weird, huh?" Sören finished off his cookie and started another one. He noticed Mark was staring with his mouth open. "What, did I say something wrong?" He couldn't resist teasing. "You make a pretty good elf. You can bake cookies and you're athletic." He grinned.
Mark gave Sören another weird look. He got up, and when he came back, he had a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses. He poured himself a shot glass.
"I know you're not really a drinker but it's there," Mark said, swirling the whiskey in his glass, inhaling.
It had been a long time since Sören had whiskey, and as he took a sip he remembered he didn't really like the taste. He got up, and came back with the two bottles of Applesin he had in the fridge, and two tumblers. He opened his bottle of Applesin - slowly - and Mark gave him a filthy look.
"What are you doing?" Mark asked.
Sören poured Applesin into the tumbler and dumped in the whiskey from his own shot glass. He sipped as Mark made a face. "You should try it, it's really good like this," Sören said.
"Sören, that is bright orange."
"So?"
"And you... you can't do that to whiskey. Especially not Auchentoshan."
"I'm doing it," Sören said. "Fucking watch me." He took another sip of the offending drink, smiling as Mark glared.
"You are unbelievable," Mark said.
Sören's response to that was to open the bottle he'd brought out for Mark, poured a tumbler, and dumped Mark's own shot glass into it. "Here. Live a little."
"Sören, I swear to god..."
"Skál." Sören bumped his glass against Mark's.
Mark rolled his eyes, muttered under his breath, and then he took a sip. He continued glaring as he drank, and it made Sören laugh even harder.
"Your face," Sören said. "Those eyebrows..."
"You are a brat."
But they finished their drinks, and then Sören kissed him. "See? That wasn't so bad." Sören kissed him again. "The kisses taste good."
Mark kissed him back. "You are the worst."
"I know." Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip.
Mark put Sören in a headlock and gave him a noogie.
A little while later they took their glasses off and curled up together on the couch. Sören felt a little sleepy from the combination of sex, weed, and whiskey, and he and Mark ended up taking a nap together. Some time later he woke up in Mark's arms, their legs braided, and Mark smiled when their eyes met.
"Have you been up long? You could have woken me if you needed to get up..."
Mark kissed Sören's brow. "Not long. Probably just a few minutes." Mark pet Sören's curls. "Wanted to watch you sleep. You're so pretty."
Sören smiled, feeling his cheeks flush. "So are you."
They kissed and then Mark said, "I can't get too worked up if we're having dinner."
"We can't just eat Froskur and the cookies?"
"No, Sören, we have to eat actual food, like, you know, adults." Mark sat up.
Sören dozed off on the couch again as Mark made dinner, and was woken up when it was ready. They ate on the deck, a Greek salad with grilled salmon. After dinner they took a walk on the beach together, and then Sören did dishes.
The storm of passion earlier had awakened the creative impulse in both of them, and Sören set up his canvas and paints while Mark played scales on the harp. Then Sören painted as Mark improvised on the harp, recording so he could make notations later. Sören continued work on the scene of Mark in the forest, which was getting close to being done. Mark's song went from somber to something uplifting and joyous, like coming out of the darkness to find light, and Sören's painting reflected that, where it seemed like Mark belonged in that landscape, as a part of nature as the trees.
It wasn't an all-nighter for once - they took a break to have more cookies, and then as Sören put his easel aside - not yet ready to show Mark that he'd been the subject of the painting, and Sören had turned him into an elf - Mark came over to Sören and took his hand.
Mark started the jacuzzi in the bathroom. It was only Sören's second time in the hot tub since he'd started renting this place. Sören had yet to do anything like bathe or shower with Mark, something he'd been keen on doing, but always missed opportunities. This wasn't quite the same thing, but it would do. They relaxed together, stretching out, leaning on each other. Sören melted into the heat and the bubbles. He melted some more as Mark gave him a little nudge forward and then, from behind him, began to rub Sören's shoulders. Sören moaned as Mark's lips brushed his neck, and louder as Mark started to kiss Sören's neck, continuing to rub his shoulders. Mark kissed the sweet spot where Sören's neck and shoulders met, and Sören's shoulders, as he rubbed Sören's back.
When they got out of the tub, Mark picked Sören up as he'd done that afternoon, but this time he carried Sören down the hall to the bedroom, looking into his eyes the entire time, tenderness and love instead of fierce hunger. He gently put Sören down on the bed and then he climbed on next to Sören.
"It's your turn," he husked, before kissing Sören deeply.
Sören rolled Mark onto his back and kissed, licked, and caressed his way down. He parted Mark's thighs and dipped his tongue into the channel, lapping slowly. The sound of Mark's moans made Sören reach down to lazily stroke himself, but he took his time, letting his tongue play inside Mark for awhile before doing more. When he was ready, he pulled his face back, slid up to take a few laps at the precum flowing down Mark's cock, and then he came up to kiss Mark.
Mark wordlessly reached for the lube Sören kept in the stained glass box, which was getting low, as Mark's own lube had already run out. Mark flipped open the bottle and poured lube onto Sören's cock, kissing him, and then remembering earlier in the kitchen, a fit of silliness overcame Sören and in his best attempt at a fake Italian accent like Fabio's, Sören blurted out, "I can't believe it's not butter."
Mark laughed so hard that he ended up upsetting the lube bottle, spilling the last of it all over both of them and the bed.
"Spray," Sören added.
Mark facepalmed, and doubled over, wheezing, finally screaming into the pillows as he shook with laughter.
"Why are you like this?" Mark asked him.
Sören shrugged.
"Well, I love you." Mark kissed him hard. "You bring joy to my life, and I didn't think that would ever be possible again after..." His voice trailed off.
Sören stroked Mark's face, and tenderly kissed his brow, then claimed his mouth with all the fire and passion that was in him. Mark's hand worked the lube that had been poured over Sören's cock, and then Sören pushed him back against the pillows and slid into place, the tip of his cock against Mark's opening. His eyes locked with Mark's as he pushed inside, his breath taken away at the look of love and trust in Mark's eyes as he went in, and at last the look of wonder and happiness on Mark's face as Sören bottomed out in him.
Sören took him slowly at first, which was exactly what they both needed. Their hands roamed over each other, caressing, feeling. They looked into each other's eyes, pet each other between kisses. Mark moaned as the ring in the head of Sören's cock rubbed that place inside him achingly slowly, teasing. Sören kissed Mark's neck, his shoulder, down to his nipples. As he licked and suckled Mark's nipples Mark rolled his hips just a little harder and faster - still keeping it slow - and Sören matched his rhythm. Mark's moans got louder, and Sören sighed, savoring each of them, the luscious feel of Mark wrapped around him, slowly rubbing his cock.
As time went on their kisses deepened, and Mark began to move faster under Sören, teasing him back by clenching his inner muscles around him. And faster still, until Sören lost control and grabbed one of Mark's legs, propping it up on his shoulders, and rocked into him harder and harder. Mark's cries almost set Sören off and he grit his teeth, holding back his climax, wanting Mark to come first. Mercifully that didn't take much longer - when his balls started slapping Mark's ass loudly, Mark gasped and tensed, and he clutched at Sören, panting "ohgodohgodohgod Sören yes..." and then he erupted, coming all over Sören and himself as he howled.
Sören came with a deep growl, collapsing onto Mark and shaking as his orgasm overtook him. He felt Mark's heart beating, felt Mark's arms around him, and Sören gasped for breath, legs kicking a little, toes curling as he continued to shoot off inside the pulsing channel of the man he loved.
They lay there for awhile, coming down, and then Mark kissed the top of Sören's head, picked Sören's head up, and grinned at him. He collected some of the cum that had landed on his own chest and stuck his fingers in Sören's mouth, and at the taste of him Sören moaned and felt himself start to get hard again. He couldn't believe it, how many times was this today?
And Mark was the one rolling him onto his back now - Sören still inside him - and Sören watched as Mark straddled his hips.
"We don't want the last of the lube to go to waste," Mark teased.
Sören laughed. "No, we don't."
Mark began to ride, and Sören moaned - the sight of Mark riding him, cock sliding in and out, Mark's gorgeous body in motion... this was the life. Delicious eye candy, and the silken heat of Mark's insides felt delicious.
He couldn't believe now that there was a time he'd ever wanted to die. He'd survived everything and this was the glorious light at the end of the tunnel. He wanted more. He wanted to live. He wanted this more than he'd ever wanted anything. He felt more fully alive than he ever had. He was insatiable. Imperishable.