Sören woke up with a gasp.
"Babe? You OK?"
"Bad dream again." Sören frowned.
Some of it had been bad. As usual, not all of it. He'd dreamed about a man who looked like Mark, a man he'd dreamed about before, a man he'd painted, with the most extraordinary silver-blue eyes, like jewels that he couldn't stop looking at. The man was wearing an ivory tunic under royal blue robe trimmed with ivory and silver, and his hair had the same elaborate thin braided tail that Mark had worn to the club last night, but his hair flooded all the way to his knees. And Sören, himself, was wearing a robe of red, a black tunic underneath, with black and gold trim on the red robe. A crown of flowers was placed on each of their heads, and then, their hands joined together with a length of rope braided like their hair. Blood spilled down their hands.
We bind our bodies, our hearts, our souls. If we should be lost, let us find each other again even worlds apart. If we should perish, let us find each other again across lives. For now and for always, I am his and he is mine. So mote it be.
A deep, hungry kiss. Then Mark in bed with both of them, gloriously decadent and debauched, worshiping each other's beauty. The same length of rope used to bind Mark to the bed as they feasted on him, teased him, made him beg to be taken and fucked by both of them. Mark's arms holding him tight as he slipped inside.
Mark's arms holding him as he was surrounded by the mob of fire-demons, lashing at him. Mark's eyes the last thing he saw before burning up. The terror and pain in those eyes. The scream as he let go, turned to ash...
Now Mark's eyes were the first thing he saw upon waking up, tender and concerned. Mark pet Sören's curls, stroked his face. "You want to talk about it?"
Sören wasn't sure telling Mark I had a dream you and I were having a threesome with some hot guy and we were double penetrating you would go over well, delicious though that part of the dream had been. And it wasn't that part of the dream that bothered him. Unsettled him, yes.
"That recurring dream I have about burning to death, turning to ash." Sören's frown deepened. "I'd say that dream is getting old now, but it's been old since I was four. It just..." Sören rubbed his beard. "Seems to be increasing with frequency and intensity. Almost like the more progress I make in my recovery from... well, like, everything... the more that dream comes back to remind me I'm still broken." Sören's jaw trembled then, not able to hold back the tears.
"Oh, baby." Mark's own eyes were too bright, and he kissed Sören's forehead before pulling him close. Sören cried on Mark's shoulder, and Sören could feel Mark heaving, knowing Mark was crying too.
It made Sören cry harder. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry -"
"Shhhh." Mark kissed the top of Sören's head, rubbed his nose in Sören's curls. "It's OK, love."
Mark stroked Sören's face some more, with his bad hand, and Sören noticed the leash was wrapped around his hand. That made Sören smile through his tears - he'd slept on the leash last night. He absolutely loved that, feeling the safest he'd ever felt, taken care of.
Which of course is why my brain is being a massive dick to me now. It always seemed to be like that - a step forward and then a few shoves back. Sometimes knocking him down and kicking him for good measure. "I am so, so tired of having PTSD," Sören choked out, venting aloud.
"I know, baby. You didn't sign up for yours, and I didn't sign up for mine. But we've got each other now. We're looking out for each other." Mark rubbed his nose in Sören's curls again, rested his cheek on top of Sören's head. "You're precious to me, Sören. You give me back something I lost a long time ago." He took Sören's face in his hands then, met his eyes. "My little flame."
Sören desperately grasped for levity, his default coping mechanism. "I think you mean flamer."
Mark slapped Sören's ass and facepalmed - now he was shaking with laughter, not tears. "You are the worst, you know."
"I know." Sören kissed the tip of Mark's nose.
Mark cupped Sören's chin and kissed him, and soon they were kissing passionately, hands roaming. Mark's hard cock rubbed against Sören's thigh and just before Sören could reach down to grab it, Sören's cell phone went off.
Mark groaned. Sören made a little whine of protest. He thought about just ignoring it but he looked at the time - it was past twelve noon, not an unreasonable hour for someone to call him. And it might be important. With a whisper of "I'm sorry," Sören reached for the cell phone going off. Then he saw it was Sharon's number. His eyes widened. He still had her notebook, and he would be going back to Oregon in just under two weeks. "I gotta take this," Sören said, and Mark nodded.
"Sharon, hi," Sören said. "How are you?"
"Doing a little better. How are you, Sören?"
"I'm OK." I'd be more OK if you'd called later and let me get my fuck on, here. But Sharon couldn't have known, and he wouldn't fault her for calling.
"You're still in town, right?"
"Jæja, but not for too much longer, I'm going back on the 18th." He would have to touch base with Mark about that and coordinate a ride up. "You still in town?"
"For now, though I'm leaving sooner than you are. Which is... what I wanted to talk to you about, actually."
"Jæja." Sören nodded. Mark got up from the bed - no longer hard - and put a hand on Sören's shoulder. Sören felt a pang of guilt as Mark walked out of the bedroom, hoping this wasn't going to make things awkward again. "You'd asked me to give you some space, and..."
"Yeah, I know. And... you did, so thanks for that."
"But since we're both leaving soon, and I have your notebook..."
"Yeah, I need that back. But I want to see you anyway, if that's all right."
Mark came back in with Sören's meds and a glass of water. "Takk," Sören whispered; Mark kissed Sören's forehead and Sören watched as Mark began putting clothes on. "I think it should be all right, but..." Sören looked up at Mark. He lowered his voice. "Do we have plans this afternoon? Do you care if I visit Sharon? I have to return that notebook -"
"It's OK, Sören." Mark patted him. "I'll do laundry while you're out. If you trust me, I'll do yours too."
"Oh." Sören blinked. "That's nice of you." He felt strangely touched by that.
Mark actually smiled at him, a genuine smile, and Sören felt a flood of relief. Sören wanted to say more - he wanted to ask Mark if it was really really OK - but he didn't want to leave Sharon hanging. "OK, I have this afternoon free?"
"Yeah, that's good for me. Want me to stop by in an hour? We can go get lunch, go for a drive?"
"Sure. I'll see you then."
"Kay. Bye, Sören."
The phone call ended. Sören put the phone down and started taking his meds. "Are you sure -"
Mark gave him a look. "We're in a relationship now. I'd tell you if I had a problem with it, and for fuck's sake, Sören, you can have friends. My problem with you going off with Sharon before was when I didn't know where we stood and I was trying to hide my feelings for you and felt conflicted about having those feelings at all."
Sören was still attracted to Sharon, but he didn't think now was the time to ask Mark if he'd be OK with him and Sharon being friends with benefits. Not to mention that, while the conversation with Sharon had gone pleasantly enough, he didn't know whether or not Sharon had gotten over him, so he didn't want to ask about a ship that might have already sailed away without him. He knew he'd have to have that talk with Mark eventually, but he was biding his time before the next round of potential awkwardness.
"I appreciate you asking, though," Mark said as he pulled on his jeans.
"Well, I mean, you're my boyfriend." It still felt weird calling a man in his forties that, but Sören also liked the acknowledgment. Yes, this is mine. "I care about your feelings."
"I know." Mark smiled at him again. "You're very loving and caring and that means more than you know."
Sören took a quick shower, put on cargo shorts and a black T-shirt - he lubed up the buttplug and put it in his ass, smiling, knowing Mark would approve - and went into the bedroom he'd been using before moving into Mark's room, where he still kept a few things. Sharon's notebook was one of them. Then the painting caught his eye, of Marilwen the paladin with her flaming red pixie cut, her doll face, her curves, those lovely grey-blue eyes. He took it out, and wrapped it up in a cloth.
After hugging and kissing Mark, Sören sat outside with Sharon's notebook and the cloth-wrapped painting on his lap. It was a beautiful sunny day, the sky a bright blue with almost no clouds. He rose to his feet when he saw Sharon's RV rolling down the street, smiling at the sound of KMFDM blasting out the window, remembering how they'd met.
"KMFDM sucks," Sören said when he got in Sharon's van.
Sharon smiled. "It's good to see you too."
"Jæja." Sören drank in the sight of her. Her blonde dreadlocks were worn loose today, and she was wearing a hot pink camisole and a rainbow-colored broomstick skirt. She had beaded bracelets of different semi-precious stones on both wrists, and a choker made of seashells and glass beads. She smelled a little like plumeria flowers without being overpowering, and Sören smiled, his nostrils twitching. "Wow, I like that scent. Is that your body wash?"
"Perfume oil," Sharon said.
"That's nice." He was used to smelling patchouli on her.
She started driving. "Is there anywhere in mind you want to go eat?"
Sören considered. "Mexican? That taco shack OK?"
"Yeah, that's good with me."
They got their food to go and drove out to the Golden Gate Bridge, where Sharon parked, and they ate in the van.
It was Sören who broke the silence. "So you said you're leaving town soon."
Sharon nodded, taking a moment to chew her burrito. "Before the end of the week."
"Just you?" Sören pursed his lips. "You and Lucas still broken up?"
Sharon laughed. "He's long gone, yeah. Just me."
"You know where you're going?"
Sharon shrugged. "Up the west coast. I'm gonna scout around Seattle, then Portland, and see what's available before I make a decision, but it'll be one of those two places."
Sören thought about offering Sharon a place to crash at the house he was renting in Corvallis until she got a place of her own, but not only did he not know her well enough to feel entirely comfortable making that offer, he had a feeling that having a live-in roommate would cramp his style with Mark coming over, or even he and Mark possibly moving in together. Not to mention that he was, indeed, still very attracted to her and having her under his roof would be like playing with fire until he'd had that talk with Mark.
"I hope something works out," Sören said.
"Thanks, me too."
"You're not going to consider Corvallis at all? You talked about wanting to homestead someday, it's a bit less fast-paced than the big city."
"You know, I thought about it, but unless I have some freakish streak of luck it's going to take time for me to work towards that dream - time and money. There are more jobs in Portland and Seattle. And, well, I don't know. Yeah, I want to settle down on a farm someday, but this is also my first real crack at independence. So I might as well do it in a city, and Portland and Seattle seem more my speed as far as cities go than, say, New York. Portland has that artsy reputation in particular."
"It does. Though, not gonna lie to you, it's starting to have a Big Tech presence too, which was part of your problem with Lucas." Sören thought about Seth, who worked at Apple before Dooku ran him out of town. "And that's also been driving rents up. That's part of why I didn't want to move to Portland when my ex was really keen on it."
"I'll be staying in my RV for a bit while I check things out. I mean yes, at some point I'll want to get an apartment so I can have more space, sleep in a better bed, take a shower in something that isn't a tiny fucking cubicle." Sharon laughed. "And I'll need to get a roommate for that."
Sören hoped she wasn't going to ask him to be her roommate, but she seemed to understand that he had no desire to move to Portland, let alone out of state to Seattle. "So I'll be checking Craigslist and whatnot," Sharon quickly added.
Though he didn't feel right offering to be her temporary roommate, he nonetheless didn't want her doing something desperate if things went bad. "If there's an emergency, like you're going to be homeless and something happens to your RV, you can come chill with me in Corvallis for a bit. Not too long, but -"
"I appreciate that, Sören, but I should be fine. I'll let you know if that changes."
"OK." Sören nodded. He cocked his head to one side. "How are your parents taking this? And your friends?"
"Pfft," Sharon said, laughing. "My mom thinks I'm making a big mistake, as usual, but... she doesn't run my life. Marguerite says she'll miss me but I don't think she will, really. I don't have much keeping me here. And it's time to move on."
"Hope you're prepared for the rain." Sören grinned.
"I can deal."
"Well..." Sören handed Sharon her notebook. "Here. I hope that the move isn't just good for you, but inspiring. I'd like to see you keep writing."
"Thanks, Sören." Then she looked at the cloth at the side of the passenger's seat, hiding something large and rectangular. "What you got there?"
Sören unwrapped it and showed her. Sharon's jaw dropped.
"That's Marilwen," she said.
Sören nodded.
"Holy fucking shit, you got her just right." Sharon took the painting, blinking slowly as she studied it.
"I tried."
"Jesus." Sharon's voice shook. "It's like you took the image right out of my mind, and I didn't give you any references or anything, there was just a very brief description... and here you got her face..."
Sören smiled, feeling that warm glow of pride.
Their eyes met. "No, seriously, Sören... she's been showing up in my dreams for years. When I say you took the image right out of my mind, I really fucking mean that." Sharon looked at the painting again, then at Sören. "That's actually kind of creepy, like... you're psychic or something."
Sören thought about the little coincidences-not-coincidences in his life - Ari spinning the globe when Sören wanted to leave Canada, finger on the Pacific Northwest, Oregon State University having a teaching position open that Sören was qualified for. Ari pulling California out of a hat of states to go on vacation in, and sharing the cabin with Mark Lauer. Sören's hair stood on end. "Jæja, maybe," he said, giving a nervous laugh.
"I wonder if you can project as well as receive," Sharon mused in a hushed, reverent tone of voice.
The subject was awkward enough to Sören that he fell back on humor. He closed his eyes and said, "I'm thinking of a number between 1 and 70..."
It took Sharon a minute and then she facepalmed, giggling. "God."
Sören opened his eyes, grinning. Sharon gave him a playful little shove. "You're a fucking pervert," she teased.
"Hey, no, you're the pervert, for all you know I could have been suggesting 42."
"Yeah, right." Sharon smirked.
Then Sharon leaned in and hugged him. "Thank you," she said, giving him a squeeze.
He returned the hug, his body responding to the feel of hers. "I'm glad you like the painting."
She pulled back a little - still lingering in his arms - and kissed his cheek. "Not just the painting, though I'm thanking you for that too. It's other things. Including, well." Sharon took a deep breath. "That night Lucas and I broke up, and I took E and tried to seduce you..."
"Jæja." Sören sighed and frowned, not wanting to visit this topic, though he knew it couldn't be avoided forever either, not if they were going to continue to be friends.
"And I got so, so mad that you didn't want to fuck me, because I was so raw it just felt like a rejection..."
"It wasn't a rejection of you," Sören said. "I didn't feel like you were in a position to consent. I'm not a rapist." Unlike my ex.
"I know. And, well... thank you for that." Sharon took his hands.
"Don't need to thank me for not raping you. God, how fucked is society when people feel the need to thank a man for being decent and not raping a woman..." Sören made a noise of disgust, thinking of his uncle Einar and all the other toxic "real men" he'd known in his life.
"OK, well... I'm not really phrasing this the way I wanted to." Sharon leaned back in her chair. "You were decent, and I haven't had a whole lot of decency in my life, and when I calmed down, I thought about things a bit. That's actually why I needed some space. I stopped being mad at you, but I also had to just... reflect on that night, and what led up to it, and what is and isn't healthy. I was with Lucas to fill a void in my life, and put up with his shit because I didn't think I could do any better."
"I know what that's like." Sören frowned, thinking of Seth.
Sharon nodded. "I don't want to make that same mistake again. There was genuine attraction, when I put the moves on you, but I was also in a lot of pain that night and it wasn't coming from the right place. I spent the last few weeks taking time to myself before I saw you again, because I wanted to make sure that, when I saw you again, now finally single, I'd be approaching it from the right place. Not trying to self-medicate with sex and relationships, not using you as a crutch, not using you to validate myself."
"Good."
They finished their food, holding that thought, and then Sharon drove them to the Marin Headlands. They climbed Hawk Hill together and sat, looking out at the Golden Gate Bridge where they'd just been parked, and the San Francisco Bay, sparkling in the sunshine. Blue butterflies flitted around them, and after awhile Sharon leaned on him, and put her head on his shoulder.
"I still like you," Sharon said.
"I still like you too," Sören said honestly.
Sharon turned her head, and Sören turned his, and they looked at each other.
"I'm single now," Sharon said.
"Hi Single Now -"
Sharon grabbed Sören's face and kissed him. Though Sören felt a pang of guilt about kissing her, he responded, kissing her back, moaning into the kiss as their tongues played together. His mind raced back to that night in the RV, before he'd figured out she was rolling. The way he'd kissed her nipples, would have devoured her if she was sober. Fuck, I still want her.
Sören pulled back, breathing hard. "Sharon. You may be single now, but... I'm not." His voice was raspy from arousal and emotion.
Sharon blinked. "I see."
Sören took a deep breath. "So... Mark and I..."
"See, I thought you two were a couple when I first saw you together, and it confused me when you said you weren't. It confused me even more when I saw him back at the beach house and the way he was looking at you. So... I can't say I'm surprised." Sharon gave a small, tight smile.
Sören nodded. "Mark's my boyfriend now. I don't know what the future holds -" God, I want there to be a future. "But I'm pretty serious about him."
"Well, I can't fault you for that, and I hope he makes you happy." Sharon's face registered disappointment, but Sören could tell she was trying to be a good sport about it.
And Sören laid his mental cards on the table, or at least where Sharon could see it. "I really want things to be long-term with him. I'm fucking crazy about him. But. I'm not good at monogamy. I tried, with the last guy I was with, but I couldn't stop looking, even if I didn't touch, and that drove him nuts. I actually blamed myself when the abuse started, thinking it was my fault because of that, but no, he would have done it anyway."
"Jesus, Sören -"
Sören shoved the thoughts of Seth out of his mind, though they were never very far. What Seth did would haunt him for years to come, even as he'd found happiness. "I make it a policy to be honest with my partners and tell them, look, you can have most of me, but I'm bi, I'm horny, I like novelty, that's just how it is. And most people can't keep up with my libido, I tend to be too much for just one person. I stopped and tried to be a good boy for my ex, Seth. And I haven't had that talk with Mark yet, because usually when I tell my partners up-front I can commit to a serious relationship but I need some breathing room to get it on the side sometimes... well... I stop having partners." Sören ran a hand through his curls. "But..." His eyes met Sharon's. "I want to have that talk with Mark. Eventually. When we get back to Oregon, and the dust has settled a bit. And if he's agreeable... look me up when you're in Portland."
"I'd like that, Sören. I'd like that a lot."
Sören took Sharon's hand and kissed it, making her blush - which made his cock stir. "And if he's not agreeable, well... I'd still like to be friends." He gave a nervous laugh, hoping what he was about to say would never, ever happen. "And if he really takes it badly and I'm single again... you might just have a new boyfriend."
Sharon threw her head back and laughed. Then she gave Sören a hug. "I do hope things work out with you and him."
"Me too."
"And yes, I'd like to stay friends with you, whether we ever do end up hooking up or not. Which is why I wanted to see you today. Well..." Sharon bit her lower lip. "I was hoping to get down your pants, too..."
Sören's cheeks flushed and he smiled. "Sorry about that. Maybe next time we see each other, though, if all goes well."
"You have my cell number but not my e-mail. You want my e-mail?"
"Yes. And though I'm on Facebook primarily for family, you want to add me there? Just... don't expect me to check it often. I hate Facebook." Sören made a face.
"I'm not even on Facebook. E-mail is fine."
They traded e-mail addresses, and then they stood up, and hugged again. They hiked down the hill together hand-in-hand, and back to Sharon's van. Just before Sharon could go around to her side of the RV, she grabbed Sören and gave him another kiss, and he kissed her back - feeling another pang of guilt, but it was just a kiss, and at least today, that wasn't going to go anywhere.
Their lips lingered, brushing for a moment before they pulled apart. Their gaze held, and then Sharon patted him before circling around the van to her side.
"So," Sören said, "you're leaving before the end of the week, then?"
Sharon nodded. "I'd invite you to hang out one last time, but I've got a lot of loose ends to tie up before I go - I'm working all week, to get as much money as I can before I head out, and I'm gonna be selling some stuff, buying other stuff, doing research..."
"It's OK."
"Besides, I don't want to cut into your time with Mark too much while you've got all that new relationship energy going."
"Well, takk. That's considerate of you."
Sharon drove him back to the beach house. Sören continued to sit in the van for a couple minutes, not wanting to let her go just yet - even if it would only be temporary, for a few weeks, couple months - and then Sharon got up, went into the back of the RV, and Sören watched as she pulled out a milk crate full of notebooks. She came back with a new notebook and handed it to him. "Something to read," she said. "You can hold onto this till the next time we see each other. Just so you know there's a next time."
They hugged again, and Sharon tousled his curls. Finally Sören hopped out of the RV. He didn't like saying goodbye, and he didn't want to get too emotional, hating how sensitive he was that his eyes were tearing up a little. With the hand not holding the notebook, he made the Vulcan hand salute. "Live long and prosper," Sören said.
Sharon giggled. "Get out of here, you dork."
The hand salute became the middle finger - Sharon flipped him off too - and then she blew him a kiss. Sören caught it, and turned around, taking the hand that caught the kiss and putting it on his ass. He waved, and walked to the house.
Mark wasn't back yet. Sören put the notebook away - he'd read more of her stories, but he was making himself wait awhile first. Right now, he had a glass of water and began pacing around the kitchen, thinking about her reaction to the painting.
She's been showing up in my dreams for years. When I say you took the image right out of my mind, I really fucking mean that.
"OK. Just now, shit got weird," Sören said aloud, though he knew that line had technically been crossed awhile back, thinking of the dreams he kept having.
And then his heart began to race, wondering if he was having an episode. He felt the urge to self-injure, something he hadn't done in years. He needed to make it stop...
Sören picked up the box and threw it as hard as he could. It slammed into one of the walls in the hallway and shattered, glass all over the hall floor.
The metal frame remained, but one of the hinges was broken in the impact. And, Sören dropped to his knees, sobbing. What have I done? The box hadn't exactly been cheap, he'd bought it as a pretty souvenir of this summer. It felt like a disrespect to the craftsmanship of a one-of-a-kind piece of glass art. There was no way to repair it, as much as the glass had shattered. And he'd made a giant mess.
_
Mark came home to find Sören on his hands and knees, sweeping up the glass into a dustpan, throwing the broken pieces into a garbage bin. All except for one, a larger piece that Sören put in his pocket.
"Sören?" Mark went right over, standing as close as he could without wandering into what remained of the mess of broken glass. "Are you OK?"
"Jæja, I think so." But Sören's voice was raspy from crying; he didn't sound OK, and when Mark got down on his knees across from him, staring at him intently, Sören knew he probably didn't look OK either, that Mark would be able to tell from his eyes and his flushed face that he'd been crying.
"Sören. What happened." Mark's brow furrowed. "Did you fight with Sharon -"
"No. No... everything with Sharon went fine." Sören felt another stab of guilt about the kisses, but they hadn't gone farther than that, and Sören saw no point in telling him now. He'd have the poly conversation with him in a few weeks. "I just." Sören made a vague hand gesture. "I think I'm having an episode." That part wasn't a lie - he was worried that he genuinely was hallucinating, after what Sharon said about the painting.
Mark gently reached out and took the dustpan and brush out of Sören's hands, and took Sören's hands for a minute, kissed them, before Mark started sweeping up the rest of the glass. "So... what makes you say that?"
"Don't you have to bring in the laundry?"
"I can do that later. This is more important." Mark gave him an "I'm waiting" look.
"I think I'm hallucinating everything." It wasn't just all of the weirdness, the not-coincidences... Sören looked into Mark's eyes. Mark loved him. Sören didn't feel worthy. Indeed, his entire life had driven the message home that nobody would or could love him, apart from maybe his brother and cousin. "Like this is too good to be true..."
Mark swept up the last of the glass, and then he grabbed Sören and bit his neck. Hard. Hard enough for Sören to give a yelp.
"That's how you know you're not hallucinating or dreaming this," Mark said.
Sören grabbed Mark and kissed him passionately. Mark shoved Sören down onto the floor and for the next while they kissed and kissed, hands roaming, exploring, teasing. They were both hard, and Sören's hand slid to the bulge in Mark's jeans, rubbing. At last, he reached for Mark's belt, about to undo Mark's jeans and free Mark's cock, wanting him right there on the hall floor.
Mark's hand grabbed Sören's wrist, stopping him. "Not yet."
Mark got up, then he pulled Sören up. "Here. Let's relax for awhile."
He went to the bedroom, came back with his glasses off, led Sören into the bathroom, and started the jacuzzi. Mark began to undress, and Sören followed suit. They got into the hot tub together. The heat and bubbles was just what Sören needed. Already, he felt a little better.
Even better when Mark pulled him close and just held him, rocked him a little, stroked his curls. "It's OK, baby. I know how much you hurt."
"So much." Those two words held a lifetime of pain.
Mark cupped Sören's chin and tilted Sören's face to look at him. "I know this feels too good to be true because you're not used to this. I'm not used to it, either. I'm used to being alone. But we're not alone anymore." He kissed Sören's forehead. "You've got me."
Sören's arms tightened around Mark. "Don't let me go," Sören husked. "Never let me go..."
Sören repeated those words like a mantra as Mark held him, rocked him. "Don't let me go. Don't let me go... Don't leave me..."
Sören started to cry, and it felt like Mark was crying, too. Mark finally put his finger to Sören's lips. "Shhhhhh." Sören started sucking on his finger, and Mark groaned. He kissed Sören's forehead, nuzzled his curls. "Good boy."
Then Sören was sucking on Mark's thumb, and when they were both more calm, Mark took his thumb out of Sören's mouth, took Sören's face in his hands, and kissed him.
They kissed and kissed like they were starving for it, like their lives depended on kissing. Underneath the water, Mark reached for Sören's cock - hardened up now - and began to stroke, slowly. Sören moaned into the kiss, and cried out as Mark kissed and licked his neck, his shoulder. Sören clutched Mark's head and cried out again as Mark lowered his head to lap at a nipple, before suckling, tugging a nipple ring with his teeth, lapping some more, then turning his attention to the other to lick, suckle.
Mark kissed his way back up Sören's neck, claimed his mouth again, and then he rose up. He turned off the jacuzzi and picked up Sören, carrying him out of the bathroom to the bedroom. In the bedroom, Mark lit candles, and then he paused when he saw Sören on all fours, showing off the buttplug that had been in all afternoon.
Mark swatted Sören's ass before he removed the plug, and groaned at the sight of Sören open for him.
Mark got on the bed, and he gently rolled Sören onto his side. He took Sören into his arms and for a moment they just looked into each other's eyes, petting each other. Then Mark kissed Sören deeply, hungrily, as he took their cocks into his fist, slowly stroking them together.
"Fuck." Sören shuddered.
"Here," Mark said. "You've had a rough day, I think... let me take care of you." With his other hand, he pulled open the first bedtable drawer and out came the vanilla-flavored massage oil.
Sören lay on his stomach and Mark got behind him. Sören gasped at the shock of the liquid pouring over his back and then he made a little purring noise as Mark's hands slid over him, working the oil over his bare skin.
For the next while Sören melted, floated, as Mark's hands rubbed, chopped, and kneaded at his shoulders, his upper arms, forearms, his upper back, his lower back, his ass, the back of his thighs, his calves. The tension flooded out of his muscles, even as his cock got harder and his balls tightened. Feeling Mark's hard-on slowly grinding against him made the rubdown even more sensual and decadent.
When Mark rubbed Sören's feet, Sören could have cried at the deliciousness of it. He hadn't known how sore his feet actually were until Mark's hands clenched and stroked, relief so strong Sören felt like his entire body was glowing.
Mark had Sören lay on his back then, and Sören smiled up at him adoringly, Mark smiling back as he poured oil onto Sören's chest and worked it over his skin. Mark rubbed Sören's shoulders from the front this time, then one arm, then another. Then his hands slid down to rub Sören's chest, fingers lingering on the nipples, "accidentally" brushing, plucking, heat in Mark's eyes as he watched Sören's nipples peak. As his cock rubbed against Sören's thigh, his hands moved in sensuous circles on Sören's stomach, and even more sensuously on Sören's thighs, cock grinding on one thigh as his hands kneaded another. Sören was rock hard, and now his cock was leaking precum. And after Mark rubbed Sören's calves from the front, he dove down and began to lap Sören's precum, slow, deliberate licks at the head of Sören's cock, over the frenulum.
"Oh god, Mark..." Sören gasped and shuddered.
Before Sören could be too far gone, Mark came up to lick and suckle Sören's nipples. He spent a long time there, feasting on one then the other, thumb and fingers rubbing, pinching, plucking one as his lips and tongue pleasured the other. Sören grabbed Mark's head, arching to him, panting.
Mark kissed down to Sören's stomach, and spent awhile there as well, kissing, licking, nibbling. He kissed over to one of Sören's hips, and then along the seam of the crotch. Mark teased a thigh, caressing, kissing, nipping, and Sören bucked against him with a whimper.
When Mark took Sören's cock into his mouth, Sören felt already too close to orgasm. But Mark sucked him slowly, keeping him on that edge - though the look of lust in Mark's eyes drove Sören into a frenzy. And when Sören's balls tightened, orgasm starting to build, Mark took Sören's cock out of his mouth and just licked it all over, a little wicked smile on his face as Sören cried out and writhed and whimpered, at last panting "Please... please..."
Mark laughed softly as his tongue teased the sensitive frenulum.
"Oh god, Mark, please..." Sören made a guttural, primal noise.
Mark's eyes widened as if he were surprised that noise came out of Sören as well. Smiling - seeming to revel in the power he had to undo Sören - Mark rose up, grabbed the massage oil, and handed it to Sören. His smile became a cheeky grin as he lay down on his stomach, and now it was Sören's turn to swat Mark's ass. Mark just laughed at him.
Mark's laughter became a moan as Sören brushed the hair aside and poured oil over Mark's shapely back and perfect ass. Sören straddled Mark's hips, hard cock rubbing into the crack of Mark's ass as he proceeded to spoil and tease Mark the same way, his hands finding a rhythm over Mark's shoulders, then those sculpted, veiny arms, then the back. Mark moaned and sighed as Sören worked on him, and Sören found himself moaning too, completely turned on by Mark's gorgeous body - Mark was a work of art. Sören's hands over him was like an act of worship.
Sören's lust grew as he kneaded Mark's ass, then the backs of his thighs, his calves. While Mark was on his stomach, Sören couldn't resist but dip down, and lick around the rim of Mark's opening. Mark cried out, and Sören took that as an invitation to play, slipping his tongue inside and returning the torment, paying evil unto evil, licking as slowly as he could, until Mark was gasping, shuddering, and made a high-pitched whimper that was also unreal coming out of the likes of such a tall, strong man.
Sören relented, and Mark rolled onto his back. Sören licked his lips at the sight of Mark's cock, dripping. Sören poured oil over Mark's chest and straddled Mark's hips again, this time from the front, their hard cocks rubbing together as Sören worked on Mark's shoulders, arms, torso, sliding up and down from chest to stomach. Playing with Mark's nipples, finding the sight of them swollen and glistening to be so delicious he couldn't help himself and bent to suckle, lash his tongue. The vanilla oil tasted good, and Mark's cries and groans were even better.
Sören poured oil over their cocks and worked them together in his fist, stroking slowly, as he resumed lapping at Mark's nipples. And then Mark pulled Sören up for a kiss, before getting into the sixty-nine position. Laying at each other's sides, arms around each other, hands gliding, caressing, they sucked each other slowly and languidly, like they had all the time in the world. But soon enough their hunger and passion overtook them and they sucked harder, faster, until Sören let go, crying out around Mark's cock, and a few seconds later he was rewarded with Mark filling his mouth with sweet cream, sweeter for the lingering taste of the vanilla massage oil.
Somehow, they made their way back to the pillows, kissing. Sören could still taste Mark after swallowing, and tasting himself on Mark, their flavors combining in the kiss, made them harden up again. Their cocks slid together, sensuously teasing awhile, before Mark poured oil directly into Sören's opening. Sören grabbed him, bucking up against him with a cry, opening wider. "Please," Sören begged.
Mark guided just the tip to Sören's channel, and smiled as he tormented Sören with just the tip in and out - so good, but Sören needed more, needed to be stretched, filled. And at last there he was, bottoming out inside him, and Sören almost wept at the relief of feeling Mark in him.
"This is real," Mark husked, taking Sören's hands. "And this is right." He kissed Sören's neck. "This is where you belong. And I belong."
Their mouths met, and Sören moaned, hips rolling back at Mark in the slow, ancient rhythm of the tide.