Just before Sören's alarm went off on Sunday morning, his cell phone rang. He fumbled for it, groaning, wanting to snap at whoever was calling - especially if it was an unsolicited spam call. But it was Dooku's number.
Oh shit, I hope he's OK. Sören swallowed hard. I hope we're still getting together. He had so been looking forward to spending time with his best friend after two months.
"Nico," Sören croaked.
"Sören. Sorry to wake you up."
"You all right?"
"Oh yes... yes, I'm fine. I hate bothering you for something so trivial, but... in addition to the restaurant, did you want to go to the Waterfront Park? And perhaps to the Rose Garden also?"
Dooku meant the Tom McCall Waterfront Park, which was on the Willamette River, and the International Rose Test Garden, which had earned Portland its epithet as "City of Roses".
"I ask because it's going to be rather warm today," Dooku went on, "and if we're walking around I want to make sure I don't overdress..."
"Oh, já, I get it." Sören was still annoyed at being woken up, but he couldn't really blame Dooku. Sören himself wilted in hot weather. "The park and the garden both sound good, Nico."
"All right. Noon it is, then."
Sören got dressed - adding the buttplug, feeling a naughty little thrill as he slipped it in. He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror - he himself neither wanted to be underdressed for a nice restaurant like Salty's, nor overdressed for walking around outdoors in the heat, even some of that riverside. So he compromised between casual and formal, wearing a short-sleeved red button-down shirt, and black cargo shorts, adding a black tie.
He started to unpack more of his things, while he still couldn't get to all of it right now. He did however upload his photos from the summer to his tablet, and threw his tablet in his satchel. And he got his bag of dirty laundry out of the suitcase. Before Dooku could walk over to his house at noon to pick him up, Sören walked over there, and knocked on the door.
Dooku answered right away. Dooku was dressed down more than Sören was used to seeing, while still looking put together, in khakis and a blue short-sleeved button-down shirt. Sören tried not to look at the definition of Dooku's arms - the veins standing out - or the dusting of silver hair on his arms, the silver chest hair peeking out from the top two buttons undone on his shirt. Oh shit, he's hot, Sören thought to himself, heat flooding his cheeks.
He also smelled, well, sexy. Dooku wearing a touch of cologne wasn't anything new, but he was either wearing something different today or Sören had been away too long and forgotten what he smelled like, and Sören rather doubted the latter. Whatever it was, it was nice, but Sören decided not to remark on it.
"Hi," Sören said.
"Hello."
"I. Ah. Came early." Sören gestured to his laundry bag and made an apologetic smile. "I hope you don't mind..."
"No, not at all. Please, come in."
Sören did, and got right to work in Dooku's pantry, throwing the load in the wash, adding detergent. He came out and washed his hands, and then he splashed Dooku with the drops of water on his hands, cackling at the glare Dooku gave him. And again, feeling that little flutter, wishing once again he didn't have such a handsome best friend.
"Shall we go?"
Sören nodded.
They got in Dooku's Jaguar. Dooku had on classic rock and they rode in companionable silence for the first fifteen minutes or so, Sören watching the trees as they got on the highway. Finally Dooku glanced at him and said, "Sören, forgive me for asking this, but..."
"Hm?"
Dooku raised an eyebrow. "Your washing machine isn't really broken, is it?"
Sören sighed. He hated that he'd been lying to Dooku for months, but he'd done it to save face, feeling deeply ashamed of the fact that he could no longer set foot in his own basement after Seth raped him there. Dooku knew that Seth had raped him, it had come out back in January over dinner. But Sören had never gotten into specifics. It had, of course, been much more than once that Seth had assaulted him, just that the one incident in the basement stood out more than the others because it had changed things for awhile, shell-shocking Sören enough for Seth to move in and take over his life until the accident.
"It's not broken, Nico." Sören looked down and folded his hands. "I'm sorry for lying to you. I didn't want to tell you the truth, which is... I have panic attacks down there because of, ah. Stuff Seth did." Sören swallowed hard. "It's bad enough I can't drive still, but -"
"I understand," Dooku said, and reached over to put his hand on Sören's hands for a moment. Dooku had been sparing with touch ever since Sören had come out about the rapes, but for once he broke protocol and Sören found it reassuring. Sören moved one of his hands to squeeze Dooku's. "I... rather suspected for months, I didn't think your landlord would be so lax about getting it fixed or replaced. But I didn't want to bring it up and shame you -"
"No, Nico, honestly... I should have said something before now. Thank you for not being angry with me."
"I'm not. What you went through was horrible." Dooku glanced at him again. "And I don't expect you to be able to go down in your basement anytime soon, if at all, the same way I don't expect you to be able to drive. I just don't want you to feel ashamed of yourself, like that's something you can help. You know I accept you."
"I do. It just frustrates me when I can't do things. I hate feeling so fucking powerless." Sören sighed.
"Did the vacation help, though?"
Sören nodded. "I'm not 'all better' now, it didn't fix everything, but it did help a bit, yes." Sören thought about telling him what happened with Mark, then, but he could get to that later. "You ought to go on vacation sometime."
Dooku nodded. "I'm considering going to Avebury for the summer solstice next year. I haven't been back to Britain in a good while."
"Oh, that sounds lovely. That's standing stones, right?"
"Yes. Not quite as well-known or popular as Stonehenge but the trade-off is it isn't as crowded or..." Dooku paused, searching for the right word. "Bothered, either."
They rode in silence some more after that. It was an hour and twenty minutes to Portland from Corvallis. Sören was still a bit groggy, but he perked up when he saw the familiar highway signs and landmarks.
Dooku had made reservations, so they went to eat first, sitting on the patio where they got a spectacular view of the Columbia River. They didn't come here terribly often, but had been here a few times enough to have a "usual". For Dooku it was the seafood cioppino, with grilled sourdogh. For Sören it was the smoked steelhead with fingerling potatoes, snap peas, turnips, and pickled peaches. Dooku had a glass of local pinot gris, while Sören had a cranberry ginger limeade "mocktail".
"This is so good," Sören said, savoring each bite. "I hope Mark is going to make something light and easy for dinner, because otherwise I may burst."
"Oh." Dooku sipped his wine. "Mark is coming over later?"
Sören nodded. "Já. He pretty much spoiled me on his cooking over the summer. Though your cooking is still awesome. If the two of you opened a restaurant together, you could put up real fierce competition around here."
"Hm. I had, more than once, thought about retiring from teaching and going into cooking professionally, but as you know, history is a passion of mine, and I feel like I'm contributing to society in a positive way by educating young minds. So tempting as that prospect has been... I'm an academic at heart."
Sören couldn't help himself. "Hi, An Academic At Heart..."
"You know..."
Sören grinned. "I know."
Dooku smiled. "More than once over the summer, any time I was out somewhere - my Krav Maga class, or at fencing, or the gym, or running an errand, and I had to interact with someone and say 'I'm', I could hear your voice in the back of my head, making that damned joke."
"Awww, you really did miss me!"
"Of course I did. But I'm glad you enjoyed yourself." Dooku's brow furrowed. "Oh no," he muttered into his wine.
"Hi Glad You Enjoyed Yourself -"
Dooku kicked him under the table. Sören wasn't expecting that kind of playful response from Dooku - he liked it. Sören kicked him back under the table. He thought for a moment about playing footsie with Dooku, then thought better of it because they didn't have that kind of relationship.
_
From Salty's they went straight to the International Rose Test Garden, as Dooku really hadn't been kidding that it was warm out today and it was better to do most of their walking here rather than get caught up in doing a big walk through Tom McCall Waterfront Park and not have much energy left for the roses.
It was a half-hour drive across Portland, and with it being a Sunday afternoon parking was kind of a nightmare so that took more time, but they eventually found a spot and made their way into the gardens.
Sören had come here with Dooku at least a dozen times already - it was a favored activity of theirs in spring. And as pretty as Sausalito had been and he missed it, he was glad to see the roses again. No matter how many times he'd come here he was still enchanted each and every time, lost in the sweet perfume, all of the different colored varieties of roses, the elegant perfection of their blooms, and the charm of a fountain here, a gazebo there. It was a peaceful place, one of the places that reminded Sören there was so much goodness and beauty in the world yet, despite its horror.
I need to take Mark here sometime this fall, while the roses are still blooming, Sören thought to himself. And since they'd enjoyed the Japanese Tea Garden in Golden Gate Park, Sören had a feeling that Mark would really appreciate the Portland Japanese Garden in fall. Mark had probably already been, having lived in Oregon for seven years now, but it was one thing to see something alone or with a friend and another thing to see it with one's partner. It would be quite romantic.
Sören was already giddy at the prospect of seeing Mark again this evening. I have a boyfriend now, this is real, this is really happening. Sören lowered his face and inhaled deeply at a cluster of roses, smiling.
Dooku chuckled softly. "That vacation must have really relaxed you, I haven't seen you smile like that in, well. Ever, really. You smile, but that smile right there could light up the entire world."
"I feel better than I've felt in a long time. Like I'm starting to be, you know, me again. Who I was before Seth."
"Good. I had rather hoped the vacation would do that for you."
They continued walking around, admiring the roses. "I do love my rose bushes but I feel like an amateur compared to all of this," Dooku said.
"Oh, your rose bushes are gorgeous. You know I still have that pressed rose you gave me last year."
"Oh." Dooku's cheeks turned pink at that. "Yes... something I kept passing by in your house when I came to tend your plants."
"Your entire garden is nice. It was therapeutic puttering around in your garden this spring, I'd like a chance to do that again this fall."
"You shall have that chance. I look forward to the company. It's very rewarding, touching the fresh earth, growing things, watching the life."
"Nature is healing." Sören nodded. "I think that's part of why being in Sausalito was so good for me, right there on the beach, with the elements..." Getting primal in the bedroom...
Sören took some photos of the roses, including a couple of selfies. Dooku leaned over his shoulder to look at one that had been taken by Dooku's favorite variety, golden yellow roses. "Beautiful," he said.
When they'd had their fill of the roses, they headed back to the car, and it was a shorter drive to Tom McCall Waterfront Park. The park on the Willamette waterfront was more impressive in the springtime, when the cherry blossom trees were in bloom - Sören had been absolutely delighted the first time Dooku took him there, back in March - but it was still a nice day to be in the park, everything green and vibrant. The park was always a bit busier than Sören or Dooku would have liked, full of walkers and runners and skaters, but it was easy enough to give a wide berth and find somewhere to sit.
After walking for a little while along the river, enjoying the view of the water sparkling in the sun, and the Steel Bridge, they took a bench. Sören opened his satchel and pulled out his tablet, showing Dooku all the photos he hadn't attached via e-mail or text message. There was a lot.
"My word, you were busy," Dooku said.
"There was a lot to see, and do. Mark was really nice about driving me around anywhere I wanted to go."
"It sounds like the two of you really hit it off, between that and you having plans with him later. It's good you've made a friend."
Sören took a deep breath. "Mark and I became a bit more than friends while we were there."
Dooku looked down at the tablet he was holding, paused on a photo of the Japanese Tea Garden. "I see."
"It just... kind of happened." Sören gave a happy little sigh. "I didn't go there really expecting to find anyone, or anything, I just wanted some peace, wanted to do something good for myself for a change. And... well... we fell hard for each other. And he knows about my issues, we talked a lot, and he was really patient - to a fault, even, I had no idea he was into me till he spelled it out. He's been an absolute prince, not like Seth at all." And he's a literal prince, but never mind that now.
Dooku was looking through some more photos in the gallery on Sören's tablet, quietly studying them. It was one of the things Sören appreciated about Dooku - he had an eye for detail, taking his time to take it all in.
Finally Dooku stopped looking for a moment, and instead looked at Sören, his expression neutral. There were little tells that he was having some kind of reaction - a tightness around the eyes and mouth, a slight furrow of the brow. After what Dooku had seen Sören go through with Seth, Sören imagined Dooku must be feeling a bit protective right now, a bit worried, and Sören couldn't blame him.
"Does he make you happy, Sören?" Dooku asked quietly.
"Very much so."
"Then I am happy for you." Dooku gave a small smile, patting Sören's arm, his eyes a little too bright.
"Hi Happy For You, I'm -"
"Sören." Dooku glared.
Dooku resumed looking through the gallery on Sören's tablet, with Sören making commentary every now and again about the place, or the memory of what he did there. When Dooku came to a selfie of Sören and Mark, he paused once more, and Sören noticed his brow furrowing again. Dooku let out the smallest sigh.
"Nico. Are you OK?"
"Yes, I'm fine." Dooku looked at Sören and tried to give a reassuring smile, but it didn't quite meet his eyes. "It's just..."
"He's not Seth. There haven't been any red flags and it's been a month."
Dooku took a moment - Sören could tell he was trying to collect his thoughts in a tactful way, and Sören waited. Finally Dooku said, "As you know, I don't have many friends. My last really good friend before you was Qui-Gon, and he... rather disappeared into the void of his grief, when his wife died. I had some mates at Oxford, when I was a young lad, and later when I moved to the States and got into activism... but obviously none of those friends are in my life now because they all got busy with partners, and I've been a lifelong bachelor, and there was no room for me in their lives. So..."
"Awww, Nico, are you worried I'd ditch you because I have Mark now?" Despite Dooku being so careful with physical contact all these months, Sören finally broke through the ice to lean over and give him a hug. He felt Dooku tense just slightly, but then Dooku relaxed slightly and returned the hug, a quick squeeze before they pulled away. Dooku's face was beetroot, as if the entire experience of giving hugs was alien to him. "Nico, I'm not going to become one of those people who ghosts my friends because I have a boyfriend now. In fact, Mark and I are taking at least one night a week off from each other, maybe more, so we can still do as we were normally doing. And I was thinking about seeing you on those nights. Plus even when he and I, you know, sleep over, you and I can still go out for coffee in the afternoon and stuff. And I mean..." Sören patted him. "You're very dear to me, you're an important part of my life, and Mark is important to me, so it would be nice if you guys could make friends. Maybe sometimes you could, I don't know, come have dinner with us or something."
"I appreciate the offer but I don't want to intrude, or be a third wheel -"
"I'll talk to Mark about it to make sure he's in the mood on a night when you want to come..." Mind, gutter. Sören bit back a laugh, and shoved that thought out of his head as quickly as possible. "But he's already heard me talk about you a few times -"
"Oh, you've..." Dooku blinked. "You've mentioned me to him?"
"More than mentioned. He knows you're my best friend, how close we are, how much I care about you, how much you've helped me." Sören couldn't resist giving him another squeeze. "Actually..." Sören chuckled. "Mark assumed we were, ah, dating. That's pretty funny, right?"
Dooku chuckled too. He patted Sören's back just a little too hard, and said nothing.
Of course that weirded him out because he's not gay. I shouldn't have said anything. Sören realized that Dooku had never said anything about his sexual orientation one way or another in the months they'd been friends - all Sören knew was that Dooku had been a bachelor all his life, and he only knew that as of a few minutes ago. That didn't tell him much. But most people weren't gay. And even if Dooku was, somehow, he'd never given any indicator of being interested.
"Anyway," Sören said, "I don't want to lose you as a friend. I will not. OK? I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me."
Dooku nodded. And Sören felt a pang, knowing what Dooku had just revealed about his history with friendships, it was an unspoken I'll believe it when I see it.
Dooku was going to see it, or Sören would die trying. Dooku had been the most loyal, devoted friend he'd ever had, and Sören was fiercely loyal to him as well. Mark would have to accept that Dooku was a fixture in Sören's life. But Sören was optimistic that he would, since they'd already talked about that in California, and Sören would talk to him about it again sometime soon, seeing if Dooku could start hanging out with them once in awhile. Mark needs a friend too.
_
Back at Dooku's place, Sören transferred his clothes from the washer to the dryer, and he and Dooku played a game of chess while they waited. Dooku's elderly cat Beowulf climbed up on Sören's lap and Sören fussed over the cat as usual.
"You should get a cat," Dooku told him.
Sören nodded. "Thinking about it." Sören grinned. "The problem is I wouldn't want to stop there. I'd want two cats, three, four... a dog... some fish. Maybe a couple bunnies. I love bunnies."
"A veritable menagerie."
Sören almost choked on his water. "Sorry, every time I hear that word my brain thinks ménage à trois." His face burned, the briefest longing to be with both Mark and Dooku, which he quickly shoved away.
Dooku's own face flushed pink. "Er."
"Já, sorry."
"No, it's..." Dooku gave a small smile. "It's fine."
Sören wondered then if he should finally ask Dooku, "What are you?" But he felt like that would be rude. Gay and bisexual men usually said "me too" if they knew they were in the presence of another gay or bisexual man - Dooku had known about Sören from the beginning, and had said nothing. Meanwhile, a lot of straight men were offended by having their sexuality called into question, so asking "what are you?" - the asker thinking there was even the smallest chance the askee was non-heterosexual - could potentially blow a powder keg. Not that Sören thought Dooku was homophobic in any way, both between their close friendship and the fact that Dooku had been involved in civil rights activism for so long, so he didn't think Dooku would react violently, but Sören didn't want even the smallest strain on their friendship when Dooku had already expressed concern about a strain on their friendship with the new relationship.
Even without potential offense at being perceived as possibly non-heterosexual, Sören knew that Dooku was an intensely private person. Sören knew some things about Dooku's past, such as a difficult childhood, and his work with radical leftist groups in the 1970s. But Dooku only spoke of his life rarely, preferring to discuss other subjects - philosophy and values and ideals, history, culture. Sören felt like he'd be prying to ask Dooku about his sexual orientation; if Dooku wanted to discuss that subject, he'd bring it up on its own.
Once Sören's laundry was finished, Dooku helped him carry it back over. Dooku lingered, and Sören thought about giving him a hug at the door, but he didn't. There were pats instead.
Sören put his laundry away - taking some time to inhale that fresh clean laundry scent, which he loved - and then he unpacked the rest of what he'd brought back from Sausalito. It felt very strange unpacking the boxes and luggage, and, Sören realized, uncomfortable, like a dark cloud rolling over him. His reluctance to do more than basic unpacking last night and this morning hadn't simply been because he was tired after traveling, but because unpacking everything was very final, the last note in the symphony that had been the most magnificent summer of his life. He and Mark were going forward from here, continuing what they started, but there was a magic in the Bay Area - Muir Woods, Golden Gate Park, the Marin Headlands, the private beach in Sausalito - not to mention the magic of them spending days in bed, doing little else but make passionate love together... that was left behind, an ephemeral moment gone. They could discover new magic here in Oregon, places to go, things to do. They could spend lazy weekends making love. They could make new memories. But the enchanted summer had ended. They were back here, the fall semester starting soon... back to the real world. The honeymoon was over now, it was time to sink or swim in the pattern of their lives.
Sören felt melancholy, a bit teary. He put on the stereo, wanting music to help him get out of his head for awhile. He did a few chores while he had music on, not that his place had gotten messy with him being gone for two months, but he needed to dust, and he freshened up the place a bit, opening windows, and he made a solution with lemon juice and baking soda to spray around the house.
Cleaning helped, though only a little. After walking around the gardens and park in the hot weather, he decided soaking his feet in epsom salt would be a nice treat, so he took out a basin, added warm water, epsom salt and a little lavender essential oil, and sat with his feet in the water, taking some deep breaths. That helped a little more, enough that he was able to curl up on the couch and veg out without getting too lost in wistfulness for the summer and worries about the future, waiting for Mark.
Sören realized after a bit that he needed to pack an overnight bag, and he didn't have much time left before 7. He had just finished packing when he heard a car horn outside. He grabbed his overnight bag, his med minder, and headed outside, where Mark was waiting in his Jaguar.
"Hey, beautiful." Mark leaned in and gave him a kiss.
"Hey beautiful yourself," Sören said, reaching between locks of hair to tweak the pointy tip of Mark's ear.
Mark grinned, blushing a little, and started driving off, hair metal playing on his car stereo. "So how did it go with Professor Dooku?"
"We went to Salty's on the Columbia, and the Rose Garden, and the Waterfront Park. We should go to the Rose Garden sometime, já?"
"Yeah, that would be nice."
"Anyway... I showed him photos and I told him about us. He has some concerns that I'm going to, you know, ditch him as a friend because I'm spending all my time with you, and I tried to be reassuring that it won't happen. He's been so loyal to me and I really, really care about him a lot and I want - need - to keep making time for him. I also told him that I would talk to you about maybe the three of us getting together sometimes. He doesn't need to tag along every time, he's got a lot of hobbies he does on his own, but, you know."
"Once in awhile that would be fine." Mark nodded. "I know he's important to you, and like I said back in Sausalito, I want you to be able to have a life and not feel smothered by me."
"And I think that, well, the two most important men in my life... you guys should be friends."
"I don't make friends easily, or lightly, Sören." Mark took a deep breath. "When I was looking for a vacation spot, I took the trade-off of having to share a house with someone but have access to a private beach, over renting a place on my own but not having a private beach, and I was expecting that my roommate would just be some random stranger who'd be really chill and be off doing their own thing most of the time and stay out of my way. I wasn't expecting it to be someone I already sort of knew. And just becoming friends with you was a risk to me, because, well." Mark shrugged. "You know how my life is. I have to move around a lot. Building connections to people... it not only runs the risk of exposure about who and what I am, but it's an exposure of the heart. It's already hard enough for me to uproot and move around when it's time, keeping people at the friendly acquaintance stage, never mind getting attached and having to leave them behind, and possibly cut them off some years later when they see I'm not aging and they are."
Sören sighed. "Já, that's... that's rough, Mark." "That's rough." Wow, understatement of the year. Sören ached for him, enough that he didn't know how to put it into words, how awful that sounded.
"Very."
"But..." Sören sighed again. "I still think you should give Nico a chance, as a friend. Even if you, you know, have to keep him at arm's length, a bit... it would mean a lot to me if he could be let into our life, a little."
"I already said yes to inviting him to do things with us sometimes. I just wanted to explain to you there's a certain amount of risk and cost involved... so the fact that I'm willing to, for you, should say a lot about how I feel about you. How much your feelings and needs matter to me."
Sören was touched by that. He took Mark's bad hand and planted a kiss over the scar on his palm, before pressing it to his heart. Mark gave him a tender smile, his silver eyes burning bright.
Then Sören said, patting Mark's hand before it went back on the wheel, "Don't just do it for me, though. Do it for yourself. I told you that how you've been living... it's understandable, but it's bad for you just the same. Like adding trauma on top of trauma, hurt on top of hurt. We're both entering a new chapter of our lives and... well, let's let this be a healthier one."
Mark sighed. "I know you're right, it's just. Old habits die hard."
"That's not the only thing that's gonna be hard."
Mark cackled. "Sören, you're incorrigible."
"Takk."
Mark glanced over and gave him another little smile. "Speaking of new chapters of our lives and getting healthier, together... I have something to show you when I get home."
"Jæja? What is it, like... a juicer?" Sören snickered. "I'd like a nice... banana smoothie... if you know what I mean."
Mark rolled his eyes and facepalmed, chuckling. "Dammit, Sören, you have a one-track mind."
"More like a sixty-nine track."
"Well, before we get to that, I need to show you this... new acquisition... and no, it's not a juicer."
When Mark turned onto his street he said, "This is my neighborhood."
"Oh, wow." They were passing by a park with a duck pond and a bandshell. "You must pay a decent sum to live here."
"I own my home outright," Mark said, "and no, it wasn't cheap, but it was worth it." It was a quiet, tree-lined street, with more trees than houses. Already Sören was in love with the neighborhood.
Mark lived in a one-story, two-bedroom house, light grey siding with a darker grey roof and reddish brick corners. His home had a lot of large windows, and was ringed by well-kept shrubbery. The front door had a wood finish, with an oval glass etched with a floral design in the center. When they got out of the Jaguar and went to the front door, Sören laughed at the doormat, which bore the greeting of COME BACK WITH A WARRANT.
"Wow," Sören said.
"Yeah. Come on in... I keep a shoeless house, so please take off your boots when we get inside."
Sören did as instructed, kicking off his Doc Martens, which Mark promptly stooped and moved to a shoe rack. Since they wore the same type of boots, it would have been easy to confuse them except Mark's feet were significantly larger than Sören's, and Sören giggled at the size discrepancy of their boots side-by-side.
They were inside a small foyer on a hardwood floor, and Mark led them out to a spacious open plan design. The living area had white walls, with a brick fireplace, black leather couch and armchair, glass-topped black coffee table, black ottomans, little black tables with black and white objects - vases, statuary - and a few white shelves on the walls housing glass sculptures. Sören noticed a theme where the shelves also held objects representing the elements - a large seashell for water, a paper fan or cluster of showy feathers for air, a geode or crystal cluster for earth, a lantern or candle for fire.
Sören giggled at the electric guitar hung up on one wall. "Wow, that's... flamboyant."
"It's a replica," Mark said. "Of George Lynch's guitar, from Dokken."
Sören walked around the living room, taking it all in. There were framed vinyl KISS albums, a KISS poster, and a black shelf unit against one wall, near Mark's studio area where he had his musical instruments and recording equipment set up. When Sören saw what was in the shelf unit, he howled.
"You have KISS dolls," Sören said.
Mark was indignant. "They are not dolls. Those are KISS action figures."
Sören had to bust his ass some more. "That's quite a collection of KISS dolls you have there."
"Hells, Sören."
"Yes, where is your unicorn?" Sören looked at the nearby collection of vinyl records, which was even more substantial than Dooku's vinyl collection. He had a record player with an elaborate sound system. "My god, you and Nico really do need to be friends, you're both vinyl junkies. And probably both vinyl purists, too." Then Sören shifted his weight from one foot to another, feeling a little nervous. "So you said you had something to show me?" He cackled, not able to resist himself again. "Was it your KISS dolls?"
"HELLS."
"Reality is stranger than fiction - Maglor collects KISS dolls..."
Mark walked off, flipping Sören the bird over his shoulder, while Sören took a seat on the couch, still giggling. He actually found it adorable and endearing that an ancient Elf appreciated rock music enough to collect some memorabilia. He was also relieved that for all of Maglor's wandering around, his home actually looked like a home, something lived in - he'd been a little worried that Mark's place would be spartan, austere. Even with a neutral color scheme, it still felt warm here in a way that Sören found hard to describe, till the words came to him: this is his sanctuary.
Mark had walked into the kitchen, sharing an open plan with the living room, the kitchen done in wood, with eggshell-color appliances. There was a sliding glass door in back that Mark had gone out of. When he came back in, Sören heard something jangling, and little patters of feet along with Mark's footfall.
The sound of something clattering to the floor, and Sören watched as a Corgi-sheepdog mix puppy came bounding in.
"OH MY GOD," Sören screamed as the puppy went right up to him, sniffing, tail wagging. Sören reached to give the dog pettings and was promptly licked up. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA IT'S SO CUTE I'M GONNA FUCKING DIE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA."
Mark grinned.
"It. Uh... is doggy a he? A she?"
"A he," Mark said, nodding. "I named him Huan, after..." Mark looked down for a minute, shifting his weight from one leg to another. "My brother Celegorm's dog."
"Oh, Mark," Sören husked, touched by that. The part of him that was Fëanor - maybe - got choked up. Wondering if he'd see any of the other sons again. Sören continued petting Huan, and when Mark sat down on the couch next to him, Huan climbed up on him and proceeded to stand on his hind legs and lick Mark's face. Mark laughed, rubbing the dog's head.
"I adopted him today," Mark explained.
"I see," Sören said.
"And..." Mark took a deep breath. "After that talk we had, the one where you told me to get a service dog... I made a few phone calls."
"Oh." The realization hit Sören. "Is that who you were on the phone with?"
Mark nodded solemnly. "I had to really pull strings to get this done in a timely manner, normally I'd be on a waiting list, but starting week after next, Huan is going to start attending service dog training school. There's a place in Lebanon that does it, which is only about a twenty minute drive from here."
"Oh! Good!" Sören threw his arms around Mark and squeezed. Huan gave Sören some more licks too, before going back to licking Mark. Sören and Mark pet Huan together, who flopped over and allowed belly rubs, lolling his tongue happily. "God, what a good boy. The training shouldn't take long, should it?"
"I... I'm surprised you suggested a service dog and you don't actually know how complicated that is," Mark said mildly, raising an eyebrow.
Sören felt a little sheepish. He defaulted to humor. "Hi Surprised You Suggested A Service Dog and You -"
Mark elbowed Sören. "Training a service dog, and especially one designed to help for PTSD... is not instantaneous. It's going to take time."
"Jæja, I mean, I figured it wouldn't be overnight. But... like three months? Six?"
"Two years."
Sören's jaw dropped. "Two... years."
Mark nodded.
Sören realized then, what this implied. "So when you said you were giving me a year to decide, well... uprooting in a year in the middle of Huan's training and trying to get him re-acclimated at another school -"
"Isn't a good idea, no." Mark turned his face and looked at Sören. "And a year, by my standards of living, is still barely any time at all. So I'm giving us two years, before you have to make a decision about whether you're coming with me or not."
"I don't know about you, Mark, but for all your talk of feeling like this is unfair and it would be better for you to be alone... it sounds like you want me around."
Mark cupped Sören's chin in his hand. "More than anything. But I don't want you to regret it. So... you have more time, now."
Sören took Mark's face in his hands and kissed him hard. The kiss deepened, and Huan took that as his cue to get down and patter off to the kitchen, where Sören heard him noisily drink from a bowl just as Sören shoved Mark back on the couch, leaning over him, kissing passionately.
Mark began to kiss Sören's neck, and undid his tie - flinging the tie across the room with a dramatic flourish, making Sören laugh - and then, heat in his eyes, he unbuttoned Sören's shirt, kissing and licking the exposed flesh button by button. When Sören's shirt was unbuttoned, Mark ran his hands over Sören's chest and leaned up to suckle a pierced nipple, Sören playing with the flood of his hair, a sensitive pointy ear.
It was when their mouths met again and they started grinding against each other that Mark patted Sören's ass, indicating they should get up from the couch. Sören got up and then Mark did, and Mark took Sören's hand and led him down a hall, still white walls and hardwood floors.
Of the two bedrooms, one had light grey walls, a futon against a wall, a large window, and small plush rugs and little pieces of furniture in the same black-and-white theme as the living room. The other, larger room, had black walls. Wrought iron candelabra on the walls. A king-sized four-poster canopy bed, with a black gauze canopy curtain and black bedcovers. William and Mary style furniture. Hells was sitting on one of the dressers amid glass sculptures, right next to what looked like a black crystal ball, and Sören smiled.
"This is my room," Mark said, leading Sören in the black room. "And now, our room, whenever you're going to be staying here."
"I love that you have a black bedroom."
"I sleep better in a dark room. And I have an aversion to sleeping in white rooms after..." Mark twitched a little.
Sören guessed, but he had a feeling his guess was right. "Your time with the government?"
Mark nodded. "It was a very, ah, institutional type setting. I like the way my living room is set up, I find the neutrals tasteful, but for my own sleeping space..."
"This is about as far away from an institutional look as you can get. My god, this is a boudoir," Sören said, laughing. "This is like some Interview with the Vampire shit. I love it."
"I'm not a vampire, Sören, but yes, I have a flair for the dark and dramatic."
"I hadn't noticed," Sören quipped. Mark slapped Sören's ass.
"What about the guest room?" Sören said, looking across the hall.
"I don't entertain guests, normally. That's there on the odd chance I ever do have someone over - well, besides yourself - or, on the occasions when I need a repairman or something that involves another person inside the house, so I can give the perception of being a normal person who invites people over. I would have just chosen a one-bedroom when I bought a place here but I would have also been picking out a much smaller space than this and I need the space."
"I understand."
"And now..." Mark cupped Sören's chin in his hand. "For what we came in the bedroom for."
"To talk about your KISS dolls?"
Mark slapped Sören's ass. "Brat."
They undressed, and climbed on the bed together. Mark rubbed Sören's ass and gave an approving pat just before Sören rolled to face him. "I see you have in the plug."
"Jæja... you like it, and... I'm liking it, too." Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip, cock twinging when Mark gave a growl. "It makes me feel, well... naughty. Kinda sexy."
"Baby, you're more than just 'kinda' sexy." Mark kissed him, and guided Sören's hand down so Sören could feel how hard Mark was for him. He leaned closer and whispered, "And the thought of you walking around Portland with that plug up your ass gets me so fucking hot."
"Mmmmm, wait till school starts. I'll have that up there all day at school..."
"Fuck." Mark kissed him again, harder. He took both their cocks into his hand, stroking. Sören groaned, and Mark did, too. "I'm already going crazy just thinking about it."
Sören grinned. "Hi Already Going Crazy Just Thinking About It -"
Mark reached around and slapped Sören's ass as he nipped Sören's lower lip with a growl, hard enough to draw blood. He sucked Sören's lower lip into his mouth before kissing him again. And again.
Mark was absolutely right that a night off would give them an appetite for each other. Mark made love to Sören's body like he was trying to eat Sören alive, feverish, hungry kisses down Sören's neck and shoulders, over his chest - lapping and suckling his nipples with passionate fury - down to his stomach, his thighs. Mark took Sören's cock into his mouth and sucked hard and fast, and when he took Sören's cock out of his mouth to lick it all over, he made a feral noise at the sight of Sören's hole twitching around the plug. He pulled the plug out and buried his tongue inside, kissing Sören's ass, devouring, making Sören writhe and gasp and whimper, pulling Mark's flood of hair, grabbing at the points of his ears. Then Mark was sucking his cock again, rubbing his tongue as he sucked, and he slipped two fingers into Sören, playing with the sweet spot inside him as he sucked until Sören couldn't hold back anymore.
"Oh god ohgodohgod Mark you're gonna make me come, I'm gonna come in your mouth -"
"Mmmmmmm."
Sören came hard, and felt deep satisfaction not just from his orgasm but the sight of Mark swallowing his seed, some of it spilling from the corners of his mouth, and Mark licking him clean. Mark came up to kiss him, and Sören groaned at the taste of himself. He groaned again as he felt Mark's erection rub against his thigh.
Sören feasted on Mark's body as well, licking, kissing, nibbling, hands caressing, fingers brushing, wanting to taste every part of him, feel every inch of him. He loved the sounds Mark made as he explored, the light in his eyes, the look of ecstasy on his face as Sören spoiled him with touch. Sören expressed his love in his worship of Mark's body, wanting to make his body sing with pleasure, wanting Mark to feel beyond any doubt that he was absolutely loved.
When he got to Mark's cock he sucked slowly, teasingly, then harder and faster, greedy. He teased Mark by licking the shaft, rubbing his tongue around the head, in the slit, over the frenulum. He tapped the head of Mark's cock against his tongue, making a trail of precum. He wrapped his lips around just the head, lashing his tongue, kissing it, as his hand rubbed the shaft, his other hand playing with Mark's balls, the sensitive place between balls and ass. Mark's moans were music to his ears, and Sören was ragingly hard again listening to him, watching Mark quiver and pant, adoring the beautifully sculpted cock, so soothing to suck on. Eventually Mark came in Sören's mouth as well - crying out Sören's name as he climaxed, shaking, fingers and toes curling involuntarily - and Sören drank him, savoring the delicious taste, lapping him clean, good to the last drop.
Mark's orgasm was intense enough that he needed at least a few minutes to recover, and Sören snuggled against him, making little noises of contentment as Mark petted his curls, rubbed his back.
"I love you so much," Mark whispered.
"I love you too." Sören gave him a little kiss. "We feel so right together."
Mark kissed him back. "It doesn't just feel right. It is right."
Mark's arms tightened around him and he rocked Sören a little, with Sören listening to his heart. Then a few minutes later Mark said, "Oh shit."
"What?" Sören felt a sudden panic.
"I'm a terrible host. I didn't ask you if you wanted anything to eat or drink -"
"Hi A Terrible Host -"
Mark slapped Sören's ass and glared, but his eyes were smiling. "Sören."
Sören cackled, and gave him a little kiss. "I think I had plenty to eat and drink, just now."
Mark facepalmed, and ran his hand over his face before slapping Sören's ass with that hand again, shaking with laughter. "Terrible."
"You walked into it. I had a pretty big meal at Salty's earlier so if you're going to make something at all, only something light, for me. As far as being thirsty, well... beyond the obvious..."
Mark rolled his eyes, laughing harder.
"Water - I think we're gonna work up a sweat..." Sören leered. "But not in a big rush for that. I want you to hold me some more."
That was what Mark did. But finally he did get up and came back with a pitcher of ice water and a couple tumblers. And Huan followed him in. Sören heard his cell phone text notifications go off just as Huan came in, so he went over to grab his cell phone out of his cargo shorts on the floor and got back on the bed, seeing a text message from Dooku.
Thank you for accompanying me earlier. You're always such good company, I really missed you.
Sören texted him back with a heart emoji and a smiley emoji. I missed you too, a lot.
Mark exited the room again, this time to go to the bathroom, and Huan came over to Sören. Without thinking about it, Sören took a selfie of himself laying on his back, shirtless, with Huan licking his face. Then another selfie of Huan cuddling up on him. He sent the selfies as attachments to Dooku.
A few moments later Dooku replied. I love you
And then a few seconds later, adding to that message man. LOL.
Another minute passed and Dooku sent another message. bloody enter key lol
Sören replied. Those mad typing skills are slipping, yo.
Dooku replied with I'm a little drunk right now.
Sören replied: Hi A Little Drunk Right Now
Dooku replied: Brat.
Sören sent back another heart emoji and smiley emoji with: I LOVE YOU TOO MAN.
Then, feeling warm fuzzies, he added, I talked to Mark. We're gonna be fine. You won't lose me. You're my bro.
A minute later Dooku replied with: You're my bro, too.
Sören howled. Wow you must REALLY be drunk if you're using the word bro.
Dooku replied: Bro
Sören snickered some more. You're my brotato chip.
The response: You're my bro-ccoli.
Sören was in stitches. Dooku never was like this. I choose you as my... Brokemon. Gonna catch you in a Brokeball.
Dooku replied with: This conversation is turning into brovolone cheese.
Sören teared up, wheezing. I hear brovolone cheese is really good on hambrogers.
Dooku came back with: An excellent source of brotein.
Sören gigglesnorted. Thinking about Dooku's responses in his deep, cultured voice was even funnier. We could have a real BroBQ.
Dooku sent an emoji with an annoyed face. This has gone from brovolone cheese into the Bromageddon.
Sören couldn't resist. It's more like the Brotel California... you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave. Bro.
The length of time we are spending on this is getting ridiculously long. Another text. Like the nose of Bronocchio.
Sören kicked the bed, scream-laughing into the pillows. "Oh my god, Nico," he said out loud. He texted back It's ridiculously long because we're ridiculous. Brozo the Clown up in here.
Dooku sent a poop emoji. You have invoked clowns, that is my cue to end this discussion.
Sören blew a raspberry. Party pooper.
Dooku sent back: I will probably look at this string of texts with disbelief in the morrow. We shan't ever discuss my use of such language.
Sören snickered. "Nicolae Dooku, the only person on Earth to use 'shan't' in a text message," he muttered to himself. Oh yes. Yes we will. Bro.
Good night, brat. And then the last word: Maybe that should be brot.
When Mark came back in Sören was still laughing. He gave Sören a confused-yet-amused look.
"Nico drunk texted me," Sören explained.
"Wow." Mark climbed on the bed. "That... what?"
"That's what I said. I've never seen him drunk. But, it's the end of the summer, it's a Sunday night, can't blame him for chilling and having a few."
Huan climbed on Mark and licked his face, and snuggled on him. Sören snapped a photo of Mark and sent it in an attachment to Dooku also, for good measure. Here, have some more cuteness overload.
Mark gave Sören a look.
"Shit," Sören said, realizing what he'd done. "I. Ah." He rubbed his beard nervously. "Nico hates Facebook even more than you do, so he's not going to post that anywhere if you're worried. I just wanted to show off the cute baby..." He pet Huan.
"I understand. Just in future, please ask me first before you do anything like that, OK?"
Sören nodded, and gave Mark a kiss. "I'm sorry."
Mark swatted Sören's ass.
They had some water, and then Huan got off the bed, and Mark pulled Sören close again. They held each other some more, petting, nuzzling, sweet little kisses. At last the kisses got longer, deeper, hungrier, hands roaming over each other's bodies, and when they were hard again their cocks rubbed together. Mark rolled Sören onto his back, rubbing more insistently, and reached for the lube.
"Thank you," Sören whispered, looking up at Mark, stroking his face, his hair.
"For?"
"Giving us a chance." Sören swallowed hard. "Giving us time."
Mark took Sören's hand, kissed it. "I want to remember what it's like to live again, not just survive. You gave me a taste of that this summer, and I want more." He kissed Sören. "That means I have to fight... not just resign myself to this... fog of existential despair I've been in for so long. But I'll fight for you. Because you've been fighting too, and... I have no excuse."
Sören grabbed Mark and kissed him hard. "Fight alongside me, Mark. Together. Let's claim a better life for ourselves, than what we've had."
Mark kissed him again, and Sören gasped into the kiss at the delicious shock of the lube pouring into him. He wrapped his arms and legs around Mark, yielding as Mark pushed inside, kissing Mark harder, deeper.
"Yes," Sören breathed when Mark bottomed out in him. "Yes. Take me. Take this. It's yours."
Mark kissed him and began to thrust, holding onto Sören tight. Sören moaned as Mark's cock found that perfect rhythm inside him right away, moaned again as Mark shivered at the feel of Sören around him. They looked into each other's eyes, stroked each other's faces, breathed each other's breath, and kissed again as they pushed and pulled together, losing themselves in the song of their moans and the dance of their bodies, weaving magic.
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