It was Friday. After having spent last night at Mark's, they were taking turns and Mark would be spending the night at Sören's house. Sören was looking forward to it, another opportunity to make his house feel like his home again.
But there was also another reason why Sören felt it was better for Mark to come over this time. Sören didn't want to talk to Mark about Sharon - and an open relationship in general - yesterday when he was already stressed out from having annoyed Dooku. Today, though, he had to have that talk. He didn't want to leave Sharon hanging, and it was better to come clean with Mark about not being suited for monogamy, before they went too much further into the relationship, in case that was a dealbreaker for Mark. And having that conversation was better done at his house, so if Mark threw a fit he could just leave, instead of Sören having to be driven home from Mark's.
Sören was hoping it wouldn't come to that, just the same.
From what Sören remembered of Fëanor, he'd had many lovers. His wife, Nerdanel. His half-brother Fingolfin, who he'd been passionately in love with and had married in secret. Occasionally, his half-brother Finarfin joined in the fun, pretending he disapproved of Fëanor just as Fingolfin had pretended to be his bitter enemy. Glorfindel had been a sometimes lover as well. In those memories, Maglor was aware of all of this, and had no problem with it - indeed, Fëanor and Fingolfin had shared Maglor, who threw himself at them as soon as he was of age. But of course, Sören did not entirely trust the memories he had. For all he knew, he was having a case of overactive imagination - and what were artists if not imaginative - coupled with overactive libido, wanting to fuck all the hot Elves. If what he remembered of Fëanor was simply wishful, lustful thinking, then there was a chance Mark would have a problem with Sören wanting to have additional lovers. And if his memories were correct, Mark might have a problem with it anyway, maybe not wanting to share Sören after so many eons alone.
Sören thought about the proverbial killing two birds with one stone and confessing to Mark that he suspected he was the reincarnation of Fëanor in the same conversation where he'd ask to have freedom to take lovers on the side so long as he was open and honest about it. But he decided it was going to be fraught enough for him to talk about this - he had, after all, put it off since the end of July when they'd gotten together. Bringing up Sharon was going to possibly add to the tension, since before they got together Mark had been jealous of what looked like a developing relationship between them. Lusty though he was, Sören genuinely didn't want to hurt Mark, and he'd leave Sharon alone if Mark had an issue, but he was hoping that Mark would no longer be jealous and see Sharon as a threat since he and Mark had gotten together and Mark knew exactly where they stood.
Mark arrived at seven. While Mark unloaded the groceries he'd brought over, Sören set up food and water for Huan and put down flyers from the recycling bin in case Huan had to go and couldn't be taken out fast enough. Then he sat on the couch and fussed over Huan, giving him pettings and kisses. It was when Huan was flopped over for belly rubs, tongue lolling, that Mark walked back towards the front door - Sören noticed he hadn't taken off his jacket or unglamoured himself yet.
"Where are you going?" Sören asked.
"Back to the car. I gotta get something."
Sören wondered if Mark had brought one of his musical instruments. That was something they hadn't done in a couple of weeks - Mark playing while Sören painted. Sören made a mental note to ask Mark to bring his guitar or keyboard or violin or even his harp, the next time Mark came over. If they survived tonight.
Mark came back in, and Sören saw that he was carrying a blue ottoman, that matched the armchair and couch Sören had bought at IKEA. Sören squeaked and clapped. Huan leapt off Sören's lap and ran into the kitchen to get some water, and Sören got off the couch, rushed over to Mark, and threw his arms around Mark's neck, giving him a big kiss. As he did, Mark let his hair down, falling from the middle of his back to his thighs, and Sören squeaked again, kissing Mark some more as he played with the length.
Mark set the ottoman down in front of the armchair, kicked off his boots, and pulled off his jacket.
"That was so thoughtful of you," Sören said. "I was planning on taking a trip to Portland tomorrow and going back to IKEA and getting an ottoman..."
"Consider it a little housewarming gift," Mark said. He sat on the couch next to Sören and pulled the ottoman over. "Open it."
Sören raised an eyebrow, and then he took off the lid of the ottoman and peered inside.
When Sören was in Sausalito over the summer, he'd gone to a boutique that featured artisan furniture and crafts, and had bought himself a stained glass box with a sun and moon design on the lid, and a mirror on the inside lid. He'd intended to keep it as a souvenir of the summer, magical even before he and Mark had gotten together. Then Sören had a meltdown one afternoon. He very much regretted breaking the box, it had been a lovely piece of art.
There was a new stained glass box waiting for him. This had a Celtic triskele design in gold and silver, between swirling flames and ocean waves on the lid.
"Like your ink," Mark said, tracing a finger over the flames on Sören's arm as Sören took it out of the box.
Sören's fingers traced around the trinity knot. "Wow, that looks kinda witchy or something."
Mark laughed.
Sören opened the stained glass box. There was no mirror inside the lid - Sören didn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved - but there was an envelope. Sören opened it and he saw a set of round-trip tickets from Portland International Airport to Keflavik International Airport in Reykjavik, Iceland, via Icelandair, with one layover scheduled for SeaTac in Seattle, flying out early Christmas Day on a "red eye" and set to come back Thursday, January 4, 2018.
Sören screamed and laughed and cried, hugging Mark fiercely. "Oh my god. Mark. Mark. This is too much. This cost a fortune -"
Mark waved his hand dismissively. "I have money. And you're worth it. And I've always wanted to see Iceland, now I have an excuse."
Sören squeezed Mark and rocked him. "I love you. I love you. Holy fucking shit, I love you."
"I know, baby." Mark squeezed him back. "I love you too." Then he took Sören's chin in his hand, thumb tracing the beard, and over Sören's full lips. "And... if we're going to start traveling together, down the road... we need to practice."
Sören nodded.
Mark pulled Sören close and kissed the top of his head, rubbed Sören's curls. "It'll be interesting to meet your family."
"Ari already likes you. Ari is very chill, anyway. He likes most people, unless they're assholes. Dag is the harder sell, if Dag goes out to Reykjavik for Christmas but he probably will if he knows I'm going." Sören pulled back a little then, frowning. "You won't be able to bring Huan. Iceland has strict policies about animals coming in, he'd have to be quarantined on Hrisey, an island near my hometown of Akureyri, and that takes more time than we'd actually be there."
"Yeah, I know." Mark nodded. "I hate putting him in a kennel, but um... maybe you could ask Dooku if he's willing to dogsit? I'll pay him."
"I can ask." Sören nodded also. "Or, you know, you can ask him. I told him when I came back from California that you and I would be willing to take him along sometimes when we do stuff, maybe have him to dinner, and we still haven't really done that."
"Yeah." Mark looked sheepish. "It's like I said, I don't make friends easily or lightly, I'm still... getting used to the idea, and that takes awhile for me. Thinking about thinking about it, if that makes sense."
"I get it, but, yanno. I don't want him to feel hurt. And I absolutely do not want him to feel used if we keep asking him to do stuff. He keeps saying he doesn't but I just..." Sören shrugged. "I feel bad. He is so kind, he's the kind of person who probably would get taken advantage of by someone else -"
"Honestly? I don't think he would." Mark shook his head. "He goes out of his way for you. He wouldn't necessarily be like that with someone else. I don't know him well, but he has a good head on his shoulders. You just... inspire a certain loyalty and devotion in the people who care about you. Look at your students, and how many of them have given you glowing reviews on Rate My Professor. Nobody else on campus has as high of a rating."
"Well, some of that is because at least a few of them have a crush on me." Sören didn't like that, either, wanting to be judged on his merits and not his looks.
"Even so. I've had more than a few students who've wanted to jump my bones and have come onto me - none of them have succeeded, even without it being an ethics violation it's just..." Mark gestured to the pointy tip of his ear. "But I'm not as popular as you are, so lust doesn't account for everything."
"If only I was that popular growing up." Sören sighed, thinking of the way he was bullied in his younger years.
Mark patted him. "Anyway... we can figure out how to ask Dooku about watching Huan while we're in Iceland. It's still early October, the trip's not till December."
"Thank you, again, for this." Sören stared at the tickets in disbelief. He put them back in the envelope, and put the envelope back in the box. Then his fingers traced over the stained glass some more. "And this. It's not an exact replacement of what I broke, but it still feels like a souvenir from that summer anyway."
"That's what I was hoping for." Mark stroked Sören's face. He kissed Sören's forehead.
Mark went to the kitchen to get dinner started, and Sören put the box on the center dresser, in front of the antique mirror.
Mark had put on Sören's stereo, synced to the Pandora playlist Sören had set up for him, of classic rock and hair metal. Sören sat on the couch and tried to work some more on the sketch of Karen, and he found himself distracted by thinking about Karen... her beauty, her laughter, her kindness, her warmth. Feeling that familiar flutter in his stomach. Thinking about Sharon. Thinking about how much he liked spending time with her, how easy it was to just be around her, what it had been like to kiss her, all the sexual fantasies he'd had about her, how close they'd come to making love. He loved Mark, and he was content to be with Mark most of the time. But at least once in awhile he needed more, and that need came surging back now.
It was time. Sören put his sketchbook on the coffee table and walked into the kitchen, as Mark was singing along with Van Halen, really belting it out.
I tell myself
Hey only fools rush in and only time will tell
If we stand the test of time
All I know
You've got to run to win and I'll be damned if
I'll get hung up on the line
Sören cleared his throat. Mark stopped singing and blinked. "Hi," Mark said, and blushed.
Sören grinned. "Hi."
"Hi."
"Hi."
"Hi."
"Hi."
"Hi."
"Hi." Sören folded his arms. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"
Mark nodded.
Sören pulled up a kitchen chair and sat down. He took a deep breath and Mark put a hand on his hip, waiting.
"OK," Sören said. "I'm just gonna say it. Mark... I'm a dog."
"Which means what, exactly. Are you a furry? A therianthrope? A gangsta rapper?"
Sören facepalmed. "No. Like... a dog dog." That didn't come out right at all.
"A dog dog... Is your name Moon Moon?"
Sören glared, and Mark cackled. Sören gave him the finger, then he went on, "No, a dog like... a male ho."
"You're a gardening implement?"
Sören's glare intensified.
"If you're going to call yourself a garden tool, I prefer the term rake to hoe," Mark said. "I'm old-fashioned that way."
"You really should be friends with Nico," Sören muttered, remembering times Dooku had teased him about slang, and his grammar, and Dooku's own fondness for some more archaic colloquialisms, like the time they'd been driving in Portland and a prostitute jaywalked and Dooku had to quickly swerve out of the way, saying "I shan't run over the trollop".
Then Sören went on. "OKAY WELL ANYWAY... yeah, that. I'm a slut. Like, you know I'm a slut for you, but... I'm a slut in general. I am really not suited for monogamy. It's like..." Sören made a vague hand gesture. "Me only eating chocolate ice cream for the rest of my life. I love chocolate ice cream and I might go for that flavor most of the time. But once in awhile I want, like, strawberry. Or pistachio. Or mint chocolate chip. You get the picture. I was monogamous when I was with Seth, I've had a few short-lived relationships prior to him where I tried to be 'good' and be with just them, and I wasn't happy. If this is going to work between us, I'd really like permission to, well, be a dog and hump around on the side. I love you. That hasn't changed. I want to be with you. I will always come home to you. You will always be my priority. And I will always be honest with you about who I take to my bed. I won't go behind your back and lie about it. But I can't be 'faithful' without feeling deprived, which ends up having a negative impact on my personality with time. I'm sorry I'm like that, but -"
"Sören." Mark put up a hand.
Sören stopped.
Mark stirred the pot for a few minutes, not saying anything, just letting it sink in. The longer Mark took to respond, the more Sören's heart plummeted as the pit of his stomach rose, until his heart was hammering in his ears. Finally Mark came over and pulled up a chair. Mark took Sören's hands in his and kissed them.
"OK," Mark said then, simply.
"Just... OK?"
Mark nodded. "Just OK, and that you don't have to be sorry. Some people are wired monogamous, and some people are not."
Sören went fishing. "Didn't Tolkien say your people were monogamous, or something?"
"Per the laws of the Valar, we were. My father said that when we lived in Endor, things were different, and I believe I mentioned once when I was still 'passing as human' to you that my parents had an open relationship, which was... controversial, at best."
That confirmed at least some of what Sören remembered. That doesn't mean all of the memories are true. Sören still felt like there was a risk in asking about the specifics, or telling Mark what he suspected of himself. His mouth was dry, as he made himself ride out the urge to blurt out he knew Fëanor and Fingolfin were lovers.
"My father was very bitter about the laws of the Valar," Mark said.
Yeah, no shit. CAN'T IMAGINE WHY.
"You had a canonical wife," Sören said, wanting to change the subject before "background Fëanor" started ranting about the Valar and Sören let something slip he wasn't ready for.
"Yeah. We don't talk about the canonical wife." Mark frowned. "It wasn't an arrangement I was happy about."
"Sorry."
"S'OK." Mark patted Sören's hands. "Anyway... I've seen that non-monogamy can work where the partners are still committed to each other. So I'm confident that sharing you isn't the same as losing you."
"It's not. If anything, it'll make me better able to appreciate you, the way I appreciate a nice home-cooked meal more if I've been eating out at restaurants." Sören's mind immediately went in the gutter with the phrase "eating out", thinking of how he'd gotten a glimpse of Sharon being blonde all over. He couldn't wait to taste her.
"I do have to ask, though." Mark narrowed his eyes. "This didn't just come up at random. Something prompted it."
Sören nodded. "More like someone, já." The dryness in his mouth got worse.
Mark got up and without being asked, brought back some iced tea from the fridge. "Takk," Sören said, gulping it down.
"So, who's the lucky individual?" Mark raised an eyebrow. "Professor Dooku?"
Sören almost spat his iced tea. "WHY DOES EVERYONE THINK THAT WE'RE A THING?"
Mark sipped his iced tea, saying nothing, the slightest hint of a smile on his lips.
"WE ARE NOT A THING," Sören said.
"OK, Sören." Mark sipped more iced tea, making the "OK hand" with his free hand.
Sören scowled into his glass, feeling flustered. "Actually, the person is. Ah." He set the glass down and ran a nervous hand through his curls, wondering if Mark's nonchalant attitude towards Sören wanting free love was going to hold up when he dropped this bomb. "You remember Sharon? From the summer? She called. She's living in Portland now."
"I see."
Sören folded his hands. "If you don't want me to see her, I'll understand -"
"No, Sören, it's OK." Mark nodded. "My reaction to you and her over the summer was before things happened between us. I don't mind if you want to hook up with her now and again."
"You're really sure? You're not just saying that for the sake of getting along."
"I'm really sure," Mark said. "If this is going to work, that honesty has to go both ways - I have to let you know if a choice of partner makes me uncomfortable, and why."
Sören nodded. "Please do." Then Sören reached across the table and put his hands over Mark's. "And I feel like it's better if the openness itself goes both ways. If I can have lovers on the side, I don't have a problem with you taking them either, so long as you let me know what's going on." Sören leered. "And, you know, maybe letting me watch."
Mark chuckled, and then he shook his head. "Thanks, but that's... unlikely, at this point. I'd told myself a long time ago I was done taking mortal partners. I broke my own rule, for you, and it was hard enough to let myself get involved, as drawn as I was to you, as much as I was aching for you. I don't think I can go through the same amount of risk for someone else."
"Well, you never know." Sören hated that Mark was cutting himself off to love - Sören thought that being loved by multiple people was exactly the sort of medicine Maglor needed, after having been so lonely and so starving for touch and affection for so long - but he also understood that it had cost Mark a lot to allow himself this, for the decades they had. He couldn't imagine that outliving many past loves had been easy, and he couldn't say he wouldn't shut off the same way if he had to walk in Maglor's shoes. Just the same... it hurt. You were meant to burn just as I was, Kanafinwë. It was time for "background Fëanor" to be quiet again, Sören trying to push it aside, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "I'm just letting you know, I won't mind. And I think something like a threesome would be fun, sometime..."
"Don't get your hopes up." Mark got up and went to the stove.
Sören got the sense he hit a nerve, and he considered asking, but he didn't want to make things worse. He was also having the flood of relief that this conversation went all right, that Mark wasn't leaving in disgust, and the rush of relief made him teary, as well as a little sick to his stomach. He let everything sink in, with the two of them keeping their silence until dinner.
The shrimp scampi was wonderful, as Mark's cooking always was. When they were finished, drinking wine, Mark said, "So you mentioned Sharon called? How long ago was this?"
"Not long. Wednesday night. I've been waiting to call her back because I wanted to make sure I touched base with you about whether or not it would be all right to, you know. I didn't want to give her false hope or expectations."
"Completely understandable."
"Actually, I should call her back, before it gets too much later. She said weekends work best for her schedule and she'd like to see me soon. So if you're OK with me going to see her tomorrow..."
Mark nodded. "That'll give me the chance to do some chores around the house, take a drive, that sort of thing." Mark started playing footsie with Sören under the table. "You want to get together Sunday evening?"
"Please." Sören got out his cell phone, and before he could dial Sharon's number, he paused and said, "You're really, really sure this is OK? You're not jealous at all?"
"I think a little degree of jealousy comes with the territory of being Fëanorion. But it's not enough for me to want to get in your way and tell you not to see her, it's not enough where it should become an issue. It's just enough to add a little spice." Mark's foot slid up Sören's calf. "We can make a game of it. When you come back on Sunday night... I want to punish you for being such a slutty boy. Want to remind you who owns you."
Sören's cock stirred at that. "Oh, fuck." A shiver went down his spine. He crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip. "I really like that idea."
Mark smiled, heat in his eyes. "Competition can be fun. I am my father's son in that regard."
Sören thought of the rivalry with Fingolfin, and Finarfin, and how explosive the sex had been with his brother-lovers, Fingolfin especially. He once again wondered if that was really a thing. He decided he needed to call Sharon before he lost his nerve.
"I'll handle dishes," Mark said, noticing Sören looking antsy at his phone. "Call your girl, then... come see me in the bedroom for a preview of what's in store Sunday."
Sören went out to the living room and hit Sharon's number on speed dial. Sharon answered after three rings. "Hello?"
"Sharon! It's Sören."
"Oh my god, Sören, hi!"
"Hi, I hope this isn't a bad time. I would have called sooner but I needed to take care of stuff -"
"It's OK! How are you?"
"Good. How are you liking Portland?"
"Oh my fucking god, Sören, you weren't kidding when you said I'd love it here."
"And you got a place?"
"Mhm. I have a two-bedroom in northeast Portland. My roommate is a girl my age, her name is Frankie, she's from Belfast."
"THAT BETTER NOT BE ANOTHER ONE OF THOSE ROBOCALL SPAM GOBSHITES CALLIN' AT THIS FECKIN' HOUR," an Irish-accented voice bellowed in the background.
"NO FRANKIE, THIS IS THE FRIEND I TOLD YOU ABOUT," Sharon yelled back. "Anyway... can we get together soon?"
"How's tomorrow sound?"
"Perfect! I was hoping we could see each other then."
"Just one thing... I still don't drive after the accident I was in last winter, so I need a ride. I'm down in Corvallis which is an hour twenty minutes down I-5 South, or an hour thirty if there's some traffic. I'll give you gas money -"
"Sure, I don't mind picking you up! What time?"
"Well, that depends. You want to do stuff in Portland or just hang out at your place? Or both?"
"Both."
"OK. So... 1 PM pickup, we'll be back in Portland around 2:30, can do some stuff around the city, grab a bite to eat... um... go back to your place..."
"When will you want to go back to Corvallis?"
Sören took a deep breath. "That depends on you."
"Oh."
"If... you're... still interested. I had a talk with Mark and he's OK with us, ah."
"Oh good. Well, if you want to Netflix and chill, you're in luck - Frankie works third shift most nights so she'll be away and won't have to listen to us."
"Good, because I'm going to make you scream." It was out before Sören could stop himself, and his face burned, feeling like a pervert.
Sharon laughed. "Promises, promises."
"Oh, that's a vow, not a promise."
"Mmmmmm. Definitely looking forward to it. Might make you scream, too."
"Yes please."
"OK, so 1 PM tomorrow - I might be slightly late depending on traffic, I'll call if I'm running really behind. And you can spend the night and I'll take you back Sunday afternoon?"
"That is the plan." Sören gave her his street address and directions to his house from one of the highway exits.
"Kay. I miss you, Sören. I'm so happy we'll get to see each other sometimes."
"I miss you too. And me too." Sören blew a little kiss into the phone. "Bye, Sharon."
"Good night!"
Sören leaned against the wall when the call was done and took a few deep breaths. He hadn't been expecting rejection but the obvious desire from Sharon felt good all the same. He felt like strutting as he made his way down to the bedroom.
Mark was laid out like a feast on the bed, naked, hard, stroking himself. He had the leash ready, and gestured for Sören to get on the bed when he came in. Sören undressed, and walked over, proudly erect. Once he climbed on the bed, Mark clipped the black leather O-ring collar around Sören's neck, and the matching leash through the collar. Then Mark tugged on the leash, pulling Sören towards him, for a kiss.
Mark pushed Sören down and guided his cock to Sören's lips. "Show me what a greedy boy you are."
Sören took all that he could in his mouth right away, making Mark gasp and shudder. Mark wound the leash around his hand and grabbed Sören's head as Sören sucked hard and fast, moaning with his mouth full.
"That's it. Get that nice and wet, you'll need the extra lubrication for when I fuck you hard," Mark rasped.
Sören moaned louder, his cock jolting at that, already leaking precum. His hole twitched around the plug inside him.
After a few minutes of fast, furious, hungry sucking, Mark took his cock out of Sören's mouth and reached for the vibrator Sören kept in the bedtable drawer. Mark licked and sucked the vibe - Sören groaned, turned on by the sight of Mark's lips and tongue working their magic - and then he presented the vibe to Sören for him to do the same. Sören looked up at Mark as he slurped away at the vibe. Then Mark took the vibe out of Sören's mouth, took the plug out of Sören's ass, and replaced the plug with the vibrator, working it in and out on its lowest setting as his cock went back in Sören's mouth.
Sören moaned again, rubbing his hard cock against the mattress - loving the feel of the silk sheets on his cock - and wiggled his ass, enjoying the way that felt with the vibe gliding in and out of him, buzzing away on his prostate. Mark gently fucked Sören's mouth, breathing hard, grunting. Sören reached to cup Mark's tightening balls, rubbing them slowly.
Before Mark could come in Sören's mouth, he pulled his cock out again, and stopped working the vibe. He tugged on the leash, and lay back, lubing his cock with a generous amount that made Sören glad he'd bought more lube yesterday. "Time to give you a ride," Mark said.
Sören climbed atop him and straddled his hips. Mark grabbed Sören's hips as he pushed inside. Sören put his hands on Mark's shoulders, and then Sören heard himself cry out as Mark began to thrust, rocking up into Sören with frenzied abandon out the gate.
"Oh shit, oh god, yes..." Sören gave a wordless howl.
Mark growled, his grip tightening on Sören, leash tugging, as he slammed away.