"You don't remember?" Mark paused and folded his arms. "It's compensation."
It took Sören a moment and then he did, in fact, remember the conversation they'd had on Halloween.
"Seriously. Sören." Mark gave him a look. "Gimme back my stuff."
"I'll think about it. Slave labor isn't very nice..." Sören cackled. "So you should, you know, maybe think about compensating those poor KISS dolls for all their years of performing non-stop."
"And what would you propose as back pay, Lord Commander?"
Sören thought for a moment. "Cheezits."
"...OK."
Sören walked down to his bedroom and took out Hells the unicorn and the KISS action figures from where they'd been hidden so Mark couldn't steal them back. He came out and presented them solemnly to their rightful owner. He couldn't help grinning when Mark hugged Hells like he actually missed the unicorn - and it was of sentimental value, Sören knew, having given it to him over the summer - and then he laughed as Mark patted each of the KISS action figures on their heads.
As Mark made dinner, Sören put out a bowl of Cheezits and arranged the KISS action figures around the bowl, each of them with their very own Cheezit square, and he put a couple Cheezits in front of Hells like they were unicorn treats. Then he took a picture. Mark saw what Sören was doing and he laughed, shaking his head.
"You are the silliest thing in existence," Mark told him as he stirred the stir-fry going in the skillet.
"Takk." Sören beamed.
Their eyes met. "I love you, you know."
"I know." Sören sighed then, and he thought about telling Mark right then and there about being Fëanor. But he didn't.
They were going to Cannon Beach this weekend, and now that Sören knew he wasn't crazy - he'd dreamed of the Englishman and he was a real person, he'd painted Frankie before he knew her - he had decided he was finally going to take the risk and tell Mark this weekend, hoping that the romantic getaway would help make dropping the bomb a bit less stressful than it would be otherwise.
And even if best-case scenario Mark took it well, it was a gamechanger enough that Sören felt he needed a few last days for things to be normal.
Or as "normal" as it gets around here. Sören took another picture with Hells putting his face right in the bowl of Cheezits.
_
On Thursday, the night before Sören and Mark would be leaving for their weekend at Cannon Beach, Sören went to Mark's and decided to check on the KISS action figures. He'd sent Mark off with the doll-sized chairs and bathtub he'd bought for them so they could "take breaks"... but sure enough, the KISS action figures were all in their upright poses, looking like they were performing, and likely had been non-stop since they were returned to Mark - the doll furniture was not on the display shelf or anywhere to be seen.
When Sören went with Mark to walk Huan, he said, "I thought I told you to let those poor KISS dolls take a break now and again."
Mark threw his head back and laughed. "Sören, they're action figures. They don't need to take breaks."
Sören pretended to be indignant. "You slavemonger. I demand justice for your KISS dolls!"
Mark laughed harder. "People are dying, Sören."
Sören tried not to laugh, having to keep the act of righteous anger to play the game. "Yes, like poor KISS, if you keep working them like that. Don't you love KISS? Wouldn't you like them to live as long as Keith Richards is going to? Because he's, like, immortal. If you don't let them take breaks to have sex and do drugs like Keith Richards did, how do you expect them to keep entertaining you for eternity?"
And then Sören knew from the look in Mark's eyes that he'd hit a nerve without meaning to - the topic of Mark's immortality and Sören's mortality was still a sore spot for Mark, who was tired of having to bury mortal partners. And Sören felt dread rising in the pit of his stomach about telling Mark he was Fëanor, this weekend, as planned - now with a new concern. Even if best-case scenario he was believed, if their desire for each other won out over the taboo against incest, and Maglor did not find the mortal, human Sören an inferior, offensive substitute for the glory of the High King of the Noldor in his prime, now Sören worried that the nature of him being mortal in the first place, and with a probable life expectancy in his fifties with the medication he was on, would be too painful for Maglor to endure, the loss of his father a second time. Sören feared that Mark would go back on his word to allow Sören at least a year - two years, with Huan's service dog training - to decide whether or not he wanted to make the sacrifice of coming along with Mark on his necessary wandering of the Earth, changing name and location at least once a decade to not be exposed as an immortal who didn't age. Sören feared that Mark would just leave suddenly, cutting himself off before he could get more attached, so he wouldn't have to witness a second death of Fëanor.
That thought terrified Sören. He felt like he'd hit a crossroads, and he was once again leaning in the direction of not telling him. Sören felt he was risking everything, and not just for himself, but for Mark - that Mark would end up alone again, even more embittered than before. That maybe Mark, in his grief and hopelessness at having lost his father again - walked away from his father, regretting it even as he couldn't bear the alternative - would kill himself, and the thought of Maglor passing from the world hurt, not just because Sören loved him so much, but the death of the Song...
But he wasn't crazy. He knew that now. This was real. There was no escaping it. If he didn't say something and Mark eventually figured out he was holding back, that could cause problems too.
Sören took a few deep breaths, trying to rein in his panic. Huan gave a little whimper of concern, as if he could sense the sudden change in Mark and Sören's moods. Sören reached out to take Mark's free hand and Mark squeezed.
"I'm sorry," Sören said. "I shouldn't have made that joke about immortality, I wasn't -"
"It's fine, Sören." Mark smiled but the smile did not meet his eyes, and Sören knew it wasn't fine at all.
Sören sighed. "I love you," he said simply.
"I love you too."
But once they got in from their walk, no sooner had they taken their boots off, than Mark slammed Sören up against the wall and kissed him passionately. Sören moaned into the kiss and kissed him back, playing with the flood of Mark's hair as it fell unglamoured, gasping as he always did when he looked at the truth of him - no matter how many times he'd seen Mark unglamour himself when he got in, it would still be breathtaking to him each and every time, just like a sunrise or sunset could captivate him no matter how many times he'd seen them.
Mark kissed him again, more hungrily than before, and Sören let out a whimper as he felt the hard-on in Mark's jeans, pressed against him. "What's all this for?" Sören asked with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, even though he knew Mark didn't need an excuse to be horny. Like father, like son.
"You made a joke earlier about how sex and drugs makes Keith Richards immortal." Mark smirked back. "We better get to work on the sex part."
If only. I would make love to you for eternity and never tire of it, my Kanafinwë. You, Fingolfin, Finarfin - glorious. But despite that ache, Sören couldn't help grinning at the mischief in Mark's eyes. He loved it when this playful side of Maglor came out - Maglor needed it, so badly, and it had become Sören's mission to bring it out of him.
Mark and Sören undressed each other on the way to the bedroom. Mark got out the collar and leash right away. "Kneel," he said.
Sören did.
"Good boy," Mark whispered once the leash was on Sören, and gave it a tug to pull Sören closer to him as he stepped forward and shoved his cock in Sören's mouth.
Sören sucked him slowly, worshipful. Mark stroked Sören's face with his free hand, toying with the leash in the other. Mark groaned as Sören's mouth worked its magic, letting out a louder groan when Sören began to rub his tongue as he sucked, kissing Mark's cock as much as he could.
After a few minutes Sören took Mark's cock out of his mouth and held it, pet it, as he gave it some teasing looks. "Is that good?"
Mark nodded with a little catch in his breath, a shiver as Sören's tongue brushed the frenulum. "So good, baby."
"Good. I like pleasing you."
"It's good to see someone who loves their work." Mark gave him a lazy grin. "And you'll be putting in plenty of work this evening."
"Oh, will I now?" Sören's tongue rubbed the slit of Mark's cock.
Mark moaned, and then he said, "You called me a slavemonger." Then he pulled the leash hard and shoved his cock back in Sören's mouth, a fierce, almost angry look on his face that sent a shiver down Sören's spine. "If you don't want my KISS action figures to rock and roll all night... I guess you'll be picking up the slack." He grinned again.
After sucking Mark for another couple of minutes - harder and faster this time, making Mark moan louder - Sören couldn't resist being a brat. He took Mark's cock out of his mouth and whispered, "So you have sex with your KISS dolls, then? That's pretty kinky, Mark."
"You know..."
"Can one fit up there?" Sören raised an eyebrow. He couldn't help what came out of his mouth next, giggling. "Two?"
"OK, you fucking brat, no, I do not have sex with my KISS dolls." Mark glared again. "Action figures," he quickly corrected himself.
"No, you were right the first -"
Mark grabbed the leash hard, yanking Sören to his feet.
"Time," Sören finished.
Mark marched Sören over to the bed. He took Sören over his knee and slapped Sören's ass, hard. Sören's cock was already standing at attention and now it throbbed, jolted, as the pleasure-pain of the sharp slap radiated through his body. Sören let out a moan and wiggled his ass, rubbed against Mark's thigh.
"Brat," Mark rasped, and spanked Sören again. And again. He tenderly, sensually rubbed Sören's stinging ass, making Sören whimper as his hole twitched around the plug inside him, and then Sören let out a cry when Mark's hand came down once more, even harder this time. "Naughty." Slap. "Little." Slap. "Brat." Slap.
"Oh god." Sören was trembling, cock twinging, needing. "Please, fuck me..."
"You think I'm going to give you what you want right away, you little brat?" Mark slapped Sören's ass again, and again.
Sören whimpered, rubbing against Mark harder.
Mark gave Sören's ass a few more slaps, and then he was done, putting Sören on the bed on his stomach. He rubbed Sören's red, sore ass cheeks to soothe them, fingers straying every now and again to tease around the rim of his opening. When Mark pulled out the plug in Sören's ass, Sören moaned at the pop it made, and Mark groaned, too. Then Sören screamed as Mark's tongue brushed around the rim of his channel, and howled into the pillows, sobbing as Mark's tongue speared him.
Mark's tongue was wicked, taking Sören to the edge of heaven and just leaving him there, orgasm glimmering just beyond reach, Sören's entire body screaming for release. Mark ate him hungrily, growling into him, every now and again pulling his tongue out to spit into Sören's hole and give more lubrication, and that feeling of something shooting into him, a promise - a tease - of what was to come later.
At last Mark stopped licking inside Sören. He got on the bed beside Sören, lay back, and pulled on the leash, gesturing for Sören to climb on top of him. Sören did and their hard cocks bumped up together, the two of them kissing as their cocks rubbed, Mark's arms around Sören, Mark's hand continuing to hold the leash. Their tongues licked together between kisses, which Sören loved, and when Mark began to kiss and lick his way down Sören's neck and throat, he collected the precum flowing from both their cocks and shoved his fingers in Sören's mouth. Sören sucked his fingers greedily, cock and hole both throbbing with need, want, longing, craving.
"Please," Sören husked when Mark withdrew his fingers.
Mark got the lube, readied them both, and guided his cock to Sören's waiting passage, both of them groaning as Sören sank down. Then Mark held the leash, tugged on it, and Sören began to ride, Mark watching him with heat in his eyes.
"You may be a brat," Mark purred, his free hand playing with Sören's pierced nipples, "but you're a damn good ride."
Sören grinned. He reached down to play with Mark's nipples, feeling a sense of victory as Mark gave a cry, shivered beneath his touch. "I love to drive you crazy."
"That you do," Mark rasped, and then he grabbed Sören's hips and began to pound into him, making Sören ride him like a wild bull. Sören howled and grabbed onto the headboard for dear life, continuing to work his hips and ass even as Mark was the one taking control of the fuck now. "You make me crazy, Sören." He looked up at his lover with feverish, wild eyes. Hungry. "You're my addiction. My obsession." He pulled Sören down into a deep kiss that left them both breathless. "My consuming fire."
Sören put a hand on Mark's heart, those words touching him on the raw. If only you knew, Maglor.
It felt almost like blasphemy to keep this from him, now. And he knew, as he surrendered to Mark's passion, Mark's fire feeding his fire, what he had to do this weekend. The blazing glory of dominant-and-submissive sex - trust, surrender, that feeling of being owned, claimed - was burning down every obstacle, making the path all too clear.
_
On Friday morning, when Mark was in the bathroom getting ready for school, Sören took Hells and Mark's KISS action figures and shoved them in his duffel bag.
On break that afternoon, Sören went with Karen to the same store where he'd bought the Halloween costumes for the action figures. This time he bought more "Malibu Ken" outfits that seemed proper for a beach getaway, and he also bought a miniature beach ball.
After school it was Mark who drove Sören from campus to Mark's house to collect their things and Snúður, putting him in the cat carrier, and they went to Lebanon to collect Huan from service dog training, and then hit the road, going north by northwest. Snúður yowled in protest the first few minutes on I-5, but finally calmed down and took a nap. Meanwhile Huan had that happy-go-lucky attitude dogs tended to have about trips, a smile on his face, tongue lolling.
Mark put on hair metal for the close to three-hour drive. They stopped at their cabin to drop off their bags and pets, and then Mark took a drive into town so they could have a late dinner, going to an Italian restaurant as a safe bet. Sören and Mark snuggled together in their cozy booth, feeding each other pizza, and all seemed right with the world for a little while.
When they got back to the cabin, Mark wanted to go for a walk along the beach, and they took Huan. The cozy, life-is-good feeling from the restaurant took on a sharp tinge of melancholy in the November night, a damp chill in the air as they walked Huan along the shore at low tide, beneath the last quarter moon. A breeze stirred Mark's hair, and Sören had to double-take, as it seemed like Mark's glamour wasn't holding up as much, and then it seemed as he looked out to sea that he was looking at something very far away, a quiet mask hiding intense emotions, as if he could sense the foreboding that Sören was feeling, the weight of the knowledge Sören carried that this was their last night to be "normal" and by this same time tomorrow, Sören would play his hand.
Sören was terrified.
But he was not so terrified to shy away from Mark when they got back in the cabin and showered together after a long day and a long drive, the hot shower nice after the cold walk on the beach. Nicer still for them to hold each other and kiss under the spray, cocks rubbing together, with Mark at last taking both their cocks into his fist and stroking them to a mutual climax, cock spurting on cock, the erotic sight making Sören come even harder than usual, having to steady himself on the shower wall to not fall over as his body shook.
Flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood, seed of my seed. The ache, wishing he could acknowledge that out loud in a moment like this, as they came down from their climax, kissing, as they collected their mingled seed and sucked it from each other's fingers and kissed some more.
Soon.
After the intense fucking until late last night, and the long trip, neither of them were up for sexual acrobatics this evening, but there was something to be said about slow, sweet, languid lovemaking as well. After their taste in the shower, Sören and Mark wanted more and settled into a sixty-nine, lovingly sucking each other's cocks, rimming each other's passages, teasing their way to orgasm. When they came together, they took each other's hands, and it felt so intimate, so close, that it brought tears to Sören's eyes, tears that flowed silently when Mark pulled Sören to his chest, holding him tight, snuggled safe and warm under the blankets, with the cat and dog joining them on the bed. Laying there tangled up together in that sweet, cozy nest, Sören almost told him then. Almost.
_
In the middle of the night Sören was awakened by a cold spot in the bed. He got up, calling out for Mark, and Mark wasn't in the cabin, but then he heard guitar outside.
Mark was sitting on a blanket in the sand, playing "Stairway to Heaven", looking out at the waves. Sören got teared up as he thought of his mamma, and Miriel before her, and how that spectre of death - of loss - had hung over him his entire life. From a young age, Fëanor became convinced by Finwë that he was cursed, and Fëanor had thought later in life that curse was to lose everyone he loved, just as he'd lost his mother. Sören had stayed with Seth after the first few red flags because at least he wasn't alone, though eventually he'd been trapped in the relationship, especially when Seth forced his way into living in Sören's home for about a month. Sören was terrified of losing Mark, he was terrified of losing Dooku and Karen as friends, he'd learned to keep people at an arm's length in this lifetime when he'd lost friends as a kid - no longer wanting to play or hang out with him because associating with him brought the same sort of bullying upon them that Sören was experiencing - and later, when his relationship with his brother Dag was strained with them living together. Einar and Katrín had made Sören feel like he was nobody special at all, like he didn't matter, the bullies in school reinforced that, and Sören still had a hard time trusting that maybe there were people in this world who cared.
Mark's crystalline tenor rang out
And it's whispered that soon
If we all call the tune
Then the piper will lead us to reason
And a new day will dawn
For those who stand long
And the forests will echo with laughter
It was the middle of the night, the darkest hour before the dawn. It was time for a new day. A new chapter in their life.
Sören waited for the song to be done, and when it was over, he came forward and put his hand on Mark's shoulder. "Macalaurë. I am your father."