In this chapter there is an incidence of transphobia that includes a transphobic slur from a random "NPC" character and Sören struggles with dysphoria, but things get better. Also, the word neshama means "soul".
To Sören's relief, he and Anthony were able to access the cemetery owned by his old shul and do Yahrzeit for Karen without being harassed by bad actors. It was a pain getting down to Boston with New Year's Eve traffic - the trip took longer than expected, and Sören felt a little guilty about Anthony driving through it, but he was also glad to have Anthony there for him through the emotional catharsis of mourning his mother figure. Sören had also requested a Mourner's Kaddish at their shul over Shabbos, and Anthony had comforted him after the service.
After Sören performed Yahrzeit at Karen's grave, Anthony took Sören to a kosher shawarma-and-falafel restaurant. It felt a little surreal to Sören that they were going out to eat and then to a gay club tonight after a solemn ritual hours before, but he knew Karen would want him to celebrate and find a bright spot of happiness.
And for the most part, Sören was happy. He loved Anthony and enjoyed his company immensely. But he couldn't shake the lingering feeling of impending doom. He had chalked it up to being paranoid about someone starting trouble at the cemetery, or while they were having a bite to eat, and he knew it was normal to have some anxiety about returning to the city where he'd been hate crimed. Even so, he was half-tempted to ask Anthony to drive them home now, once they were finished eating, and he held his peace, not wanting Anthony to feel like the trip was wasted even though Anthony hadn't acted like he was performing an intolerable chore of taking Sören to Boston for the Yahrzeit.
Sören took off his kippah for the gay club, tucking it safely into Anthony's glove compartment. Tonight he was wearing a dark purple button-down shirt - purple had been Karen's favorite color - with a black vest and black trousers; Anthony was wearing a charcoal grey blazer, white button-down and black slacks. Anthony was also wearing contacts instead of glasses, even though Sören thought Anthony was perfectly hot in his glasses.
Sören felt naked without his usual Bukharian kippah, now that he'd gotten used to wearing it again this past month, and that feeling of being exposed and vulnerable intensified as he and Anthony entered the club. And the loud music thumping, the flashing lights, and the crowds definitely made Sören feel ill at ease. He managed to loosen up a little when Anthony pulled him onto the dance floor, enjoying the feel of Anthony's arms around him and the way their bodies moved in time... but after a few glances around the anxiety returned.
Once a Beyonce song came on and men began to show off with more elaborate dancing, Sören realized at least some of his anxiety was impostor syndrome. On the one hand, he was glad that Anthony wanted to give him gay male rites of passage he'd missed, and he knew that in years past he would have felt gender euphoria going to a place like this and passing, being presumed cis. But before he'd transitioned, most of the few friends he'd had were gay men, who were initially supportive of him coming out and then began to treat him like a pretender, an interloper - one who would never be a "real" gay man - and ghosted him one by one. And Sören had experienced enough rude, insulting rejections from queer men in the years prior to meeting Anthony that he knew while he might appear to belong on the surface, he knew he was someplace he wasn't truly welcome.
He also had a prickle of worry, looking around at the attractive men on the dance floor - wondering if there would come a point in time where, once the new relationship energy had worn off, Anthony might miss cis cock. Sören didn't necessarily mind the possibility of sharing so long as it was a man or queer couple who wanted to occasionally have fun with both of them and everything was honest and up-front, but that was one thing and not being enough, being inadequate in some way... the thought that Anthony might be "settling for less" after two years of loneliness... was definitely another thing.
Sören looked into Anthony's green eyes, the way his crow's feet crinkled as he smiled... the way Anthony was looking at him like he was the only man in the club, the only man in the world. Anthony reached out to touch Sören's face and Sören leaned into the touch, closing his eyes for a moment and holding back panic tears. Even though he'd prided himself on not being macho, on having a non-toxic form of masculinity that allowed men to cry and be sensitive, he was self-conscious about it now, not wanting to fall apart again, especially not here, not now.
But they were in tune with each other enough that when Sören opened his eyes, Anthony had a concerned expression on his face. "Lovey, are you OK?" Anthony asked.
"Jæja, I'm fine," Sören lied.
Anthony cocked his head to one side and pursed his lips. "You're not fine. Are you feeling a little overloaded? I realize now I probably shouldn't have suggested this after you did Yahrzeit, you need rest and calm. We can go home if you need -"
As much as Sören desperately wanted to take him up on that offer - and wanted to believe Anthony's yes meant yes and he wouldn't get annoyed with him later, as other people had done before - he felt like he'd be chickening out. "We can stay a little longer."
"OK. I have an idea, then. You want a drink? I'm not going to have anything with alcohol in it myself, 'cos I have to drive, but maybe a shot of something might help you relax?"
Despite being an Icelander, Sören wasn't much of a drinker - his guardians had put him off to that; he usually only got intoxicated once a year for Purim, his favorite holiday, a time of silly hats and merrymaking. But here and now, he agreed with Anthony's logic. "Either a mojito or a margarita, takk."
As they approached the bar, Sören noticed it was even more crowded and he hesitated once they were a few feet away. Anthony noticed, glancing at the swarm and then back at Sören. "You want to wait here while I get it?"
Sören nodded.
Anthony gave him a quick squeeze, and sauntered over to the bar to wait his turn to order - Sören gave himself a much-needed distraction by looking at Anthony's firm, round ass. Sören was more of a bottom, and he assumed Anthony was a top, but Sören found himself wondering what it would be like to rim him and fuck him. The delicious fantasy of them taking turns fucking each other momentarily eased Sören's tension.
Right after Anthony ordered, and while he was off to the side waiting for his drinks to be served, Sören watched as a thirtysomething man - brown hair in an undercut, hazel eyes, wearing all black, with a slim build and attractive in a bland sort of way - came over to Anthony and began chatting him up. Judging from Anthony's face and body language, there was recognition but Anthony also seemed uncomfortable, and after a couple minutes he turned his head and gave Sören a pleading look. Sören took a deep breath and made himself brave the crowd and walk over to Anthony.
"And here's my boyfriend now," Anthony said. "Sören, this is Jason, someone I hooked up with once about a year and a half ago. As I was telling Jason, I'm taken and not interested."
Sören's eyes met Jason's for an instant - Sören got a whiff of too much cologne and immediately chalked him up as a player and a try-hard. "Hi," he said in a flat tone of voice.
"Sören. Whyyyyyyyyyyy do you seem familiar to me," Jason said, stroking his chin for a moment. Then his eyebrows shot up and his mouth opened. "Oh wait - you were one of the organizers of Boston Pride a couple years ago, right? Your name and photo were on the website."
Sören exhaled. "Jæja." It was in fact his involvement with Boston Pride that had earned him enough social media followers to end up getting hate crimed in October. And while he was stealth in his day-to-day life, he'd disclosed being trans on the Boston Pride website. So much for passing in a place like this. He was surprised someone even recognized him, but he knew he had a distinctive name as well as a distinctive appearance, resembling Jon Snow.
Then Jason turned back to Anthony. "Bruh, I thought you said you were gay."
"I. Am." Anthony narrowed his eyes.
"But you're dating a chick." Jason snickered. "Time to turn in your Gay Card and start identifying as bi..."
The pit of Sören's stomach rose, and his fists clenched. He felt searing, white-hot rage... and yet, he also froze, not able to react. All of the years of suffering with feeling trapped in the wrong body and going to great lengths with hormones and surgery to reconfigure himself... and he still would never be man enough to people like this. Which was bad enough in and of itself, but was even more humiliating in front of Anthony.
Just then, one of the bartenders had their drinks - a mojito for Sören and ginger ale for Anthony. Anthony took them, and Sören figured they were going to get away from the bar - and then Anthony splashed both drinks in Jason's face before spitting in it.
Sören's heart hammered in his ears - exhilarated by Anthony standing up for him, but also anticipating danger. And sure enough, just before Anthony and Sören could get away, Jason stepped in front of them, blocking their paths, and punched Anthony in the gut. Sören steadied him so he didn't fall, and then Jason snarled, "We don't want your kind here, troon," to Sören and swung - Anthony blocked Jason's fist before it could connect, then kicked Jason in the crotch, elbowed him in the face, and once Jason fell on the floor, Anthony stomped on Jason's crotch for good measure.
"My boyfriend is more of a man than you'll ever be, you fucking twat," Anthony growled. "Especially now. Have fun not being able to get it up for awhile -"
Suddenly four tall, burly bouncers came over, grabbed Sören and Anthony, and began shove-marching them to the door. "We won't call the police, we know he started it, but it would be better if you didn't come back here," one of the bouncers said, and another just sneered at them before going back inside.
Anthony and Sören headed to Anthony's Prius as quickly as they could - Sören looked back and saw the bouncers escorting Jason out, and then he saw Anthony noticed it too. They ducked into the car and Anthony made it out of the parking lot in record time. A few minutes later, before they could get on the highway - and when Anthony seemed sure they weren't being followed - Anthony pulled over and threw his arms around Sören, hugging him tight. "Are you OK?"
"Dude, you're the one who got punched. I should be asking you that."
"I'm a little sore," Anthony said, nodding, "but I'll live." Anthony exhaled and touched Sören's face. "I am so, so sorry he said that to you, that he fucking attacked you..."
Sören shrugged. "It's not the first time a cis gay guy has said stupid shit to me." Sören looked out the window - it was starting to rain. He felt numb.
"Well, it's fucked up." Anthony tousled Sören's curls, then popped open the glove, took out Sören's Bukharian kippah and handed it to him. "Here."
Sören put his kippah on, and Anthony pulled back onto the road, and soon they were on the highway. As the rain fell, they listened to a playlist of smooth, sexy music - Sade, Marvin Gaye, George Michael. Every now and again Anthony looked over and gave him reassuring touches and pats. But even though Sören felt - and welcomed - the touch, he otherwise felt disconnected from his body, locked in that state of floating numbness.
Until they arrived in Portland, and Anthony took an exit so they could stop at a CVS before it closed - it was a 24-hour location but would close at 11:30 PM for New Year's Eve; Anthony wanted to pick up a tube of arnica cream for the blow he'd taken. The bright lights and peppy 80s and 90s music in the store and walking around brought Sören back to himself and he felt that sickening adrenaline crash. When Anthony stopped at the fridge of 20-ounce soda bottles by the registers and offered Sören his choice - they hadn't had anything to drink at the club, with what happened - instead of being able to answer him, Sören broke down crying.
"Oh, baby." Anthony put an arm around him. "Oh, sweetheart. Here, you can just nod or shake your head, OK? Coke?" Head shake; it was a bit too late at night for caffeine. "Sprite?" Nod.
Anthony got a Sprite for each of them and Sören went outside, not wanting the cashier to see him cry. He was still sobbing, breath steaming the air, when Anthony joined him a few minutes later.
After they got in the car, Anthony turned it on but didn't start driving yet. As they sat in the car with the heat and the music on, Anthony held Sören and rocked him, letting Sören cry on your shoulder. "It's OK, baby. Daddy's got you, sweetheart."
"I'm sorry for crying like this." Sören snuffled. He looked up and into Anthony's eyes.
Anthony sighed and kissed Sören's brow. "You don't have to apologize, lovey. It's OK to cry. I'm just worried that I triggered you when I hit that fucker back. I'm not usually a violent person, I know what your uncle did to you and I don't want you to be afraid of me -"
"Oh shit, no, it's not that." Sören exhaled and looked down. He decided to be honest with the return of his insecurity, and that he could safely express himself to Anthony. "What he said, at the club. I felt like an impostor the minute we walked in - like, I'm a guy, but I know most of the people there think like he does. It's great to pass in my day-to-day life, that's what I want, but I'm not 'missing out' by not going to places like that and being around... people who wouldn't want me there, if they knew."
"I'm sorry for even suggesting it." Anthony facepalmed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oy. I'm sorry I didn't realize. I feel like that was insensitive and tone-deaf of me -"
"No, it wasn't. You brought me there treating me as a man, no different than the other men there. You were trying to do something good. I didn't know until I got there that I would end up reacting like this, and that idiot Jason justified that reaction. And..." Sören let out a shuddery sigh, the tears coming again, his voice breaking as he said, "I'm terrified that later, you're going to think about what he said, and you're going to have some sort of, like... existential crisis about it and decide you want to be with a 'real man'..." His fingers made air quotes.
Anthony's jaw dropped and his eyes were suddenly too bright. "Oh lovey no..." He covered his mouth with his hand but Sören saw his jaw tremble, and then Anthony fell apart too, shaking with silent tears that became less silent as Anthony took Sören in his arms again. "Sören, I love you. You are a man. I don't see you as anything else. Fuck that guy - well, OK, don't fuck that guy, because he was a lousy fuck."
Sören laughed through his tears, and squeezed Anthony. Anthony chuckled too, then he resumed crying. "I swear to you," Anthony said, looking into Sören's eyes, "I don't think you're inferior to a cis man. I want you, as you are. Your trans-ness is part of the incredible journey of your neshama. There's only one of you, you are a beautiful spirit of fire wearing human flesh, and I thank G-d for you every day." Anthony took Sören's hand and kissed it. Sören wept harder, touched by his words, overcome with powerful love for this man. "Anyone who thinks I'm not gay enough, because they think you're not man enough, can piss right off. We don't need to prove ourselves to them and their ignorant, hateful, sodding bloody fucking narrow minds. I love you."
"I love you too." Sören took a deep breath. "Do me a favor, OK? No more gay clubs. I'm sorry if you feel like you're missing out -"
"I don't." Anthony gave a nervous laugh. "To be honest, I asked not just because I wanted you to feel more... affirmed as a gay man, but my ex used to get annoyed with me for not wanting to go places like that and either do something more quiet like parks or museums, or just stay home. He called me old and boring."
Now it was Sören's turn to laugh, feeling a flood of relief. "Trust me, quiet nights at home sound good to me. You don't need to pretend to be young and... whatever... to be with me. Just be you. I like you."
"OK." Anthony smiled. "Thank you."
They held each other, rocking together as the rain pattered on the windshield, the wipers clacking, Bill Withers crooning in the background. Eventually, Sören calmed down and stopped crying, and snuggled into Anthony's shoulder. Then Anthony tapped him, and gestured to the clock on the dashboard. It was 11:59 PM.
They opened their bottles of Sprite, toasted the New Year, and kissed. A few kisses later they resumed drinking and Sören noticed Anthony looked deep in thought.
"What?" Sören asked.
"You're sure you're not triggered by me going off on that -"
"I'm sure, Anthony." Sören touched his cheek, and Anthony smiled. Then, as Sören's mind's eye replayed Anthony's ferocity on their attacker, he felt a frisson down his spine and blurted out, "Actually, you were really hot."
Anthony laughed, his cheeks pink.
Sören went on, "You protected me. I feel safe with you." His voice got huskier as he added, "I want you to fuck me when we get back." It was time.
Anthony's blush deepened and his face lit up. He let out a low whistle. He sipped his Sprite and then he said, "I can do that, but I was also thinking about letting you fuck me."
Sören's eyebrows went up. "I don't have a strap and nothing is open tonight where we can buy one, like, we'd have to stop at Yeyette's so I can get one of my toys and try to rig one -"
Anthony put up a finger. "I meant..." He looked down at Sören's crotch, and back up. "I'm usually a top, I've bottomed a few times over the years but not often, and I haven't had anything up there outside of a prostate exam in over two years, so I'm not prepared to take... you know. But if you pump up, your bottom growth is big enough that you can penetrate me with it. I'm guessing it'll feel like being fingered."
Sören's cunt throbbed in response, and he nodded enthusiastically. "That sounds fucking hot."
"Then after you fuck me, I can fuck you, whether we recharge tonight or it happens tomorrow. Deal?"
Sören nodded again, and kissed him, delighted.
Back at Anthony's place, they fed the cats and proceeded to the shower. They took a shower together, kissing and sensually lathering each other, getting each other hard and ready.
After they towelled off, they kissed their way from the bathroom to the bed, running their hands over each other. When Sören climbed onto the bed, Anthony climbed over him and kissed him deeply. Sören moaned into the kiss as he felt Anthony's cockhead rub against his clit, teasing them both.
Anthony watched with hungry eyes as Sören pumped up. Once Sören was pumped, Anthony guided his cock to Sören's clit again, slowly caressing back and forth. "You are so fucking hot, baby boy," Anthony purred, kissing Sören's neck. "Want to feel that hot cock of yours inside me..."
Sören almost came. He kissed Anthony fiercely, reaching around to cup and squeeze and knead his shapely ass. Sören's finger slid down the crack down to his opening and Anthony groaned into Sören's neck. But as badly as Sören wanted it - dripping, his clit aching for it - he wanted to take some time to express his gratitude and love.
Anthony lay back and Sören began kissing and licking him all over - armpits, arms, nipples, chest, stomach, hips and thighs and calves, down and back up. Sören's fingers followed his tongue, brushed and walked and traced Anthony's body. Sören's thighs were slick, going out of his mind with lust at worshiping Anthony's body, hearing those moans and sighs. After Sören had worked him over twice, he took the arnica cream and applied it to the bruise forming on Anthony's stomach, and as he tenderly rubbed Anthony's stomach in lazy circles he lapped and suckled one hard nipple, then the other, Anthony moaning louder, arching to him.
At last, Sören decided it was time to prepare Anthony's ass. He wiped the arnica cream off his hands, then licked down Anthony's shaft and back up, licking up and down, back and forth, teasing Anthony's cock with his tongue. As he licked and gently sucked at Anthony's balls, his finger circled Anthony's opening a few times, and once Anthony's breath hitched, Sören pushed a finger inside. He found Anthony's prostate right away and Anthony made a guttural noise. Sören slowly worked his finger in and out, rubbing the prostate in circles with each push inside, as he continued licking and sucking Anthony's balls, until Anthony got more vocal, rolling his hips.
Sören moved lower, took a deep breath, and began to lick the puckered hole. Anthony was fresh from the shower and tasted clean, and Sören found it thrilling to lick him there, touching himself as his tongue played. Anthony's breath came out in shuddery gasps, eyes rolling, and finally he grabbed Sören's hair, their eyes met, and Anthony rasped, "Sweetheart," letting him know it was time with a single word.
Sören rose up on his knees, spread Anthony's thighs, propped Anthony's legs up on his shoulders, and moved in as close as he could, guiding his clit to Anthony's opening. When he slipped inside they both cried out. Sören began to thrust and had to pause after a few strokes so he didn't climax right away at the feel of Anthony's passage kissing his clit. When he was ready to go again, he thrusted more slowly, savoring each delicious stroke and the way Anthony moaned as their bodies fit together again and again.
He savored that feeling of conquest and triumph, taking another man who honored him as a man. He had never felt more fully himself, so fully alive, before this moment.
"I love you," Anthony husked, meeting his eyes.
"I love you, elskan," Sören whispered, his voice shaking - he was shaking, with the exquisite tension building and building.
Anthony's left hand reached down and Sören grunted with satisfaction at the sight of Anthony taking himself in hand, stroking his cock in time with Sören's thrusts. Sören couldn't help rocking his hips and thrusting harder, faster.
"That's it, baby, fuck your daddy," Anthony ground out, his hand speeding up.
"You like that, Daddy?"
"Fuck, yes." Anthony growled. "Your cock is so fucking good..."
With a strangled sob Sören went wild, fucking as hard as he could. Each thrust pushed him farther to that edge, so close to coming, but making himself hold back, waiting for Anthony. It was equally torment and luscious, decadent pleasure, the tension coiling higher as he went deeper into sensation, fueled by the hot lust of watching Anthony lose control, stroking his cock furiously. When their eyes met again, Sören knew Anthony was right there.
"Wanna make you come, Daddy," Sören panted.
"Almost, baby. Keep going. You're gonna make Daddy come with that hot cock..."
"Yes, Daddy..." Sören bit his lip hard enough to draw blood as he felt that flutter of near-orgasm. It wouldn't be much longer. He kept going, wanting to make it last, each delicious stroke in and out...
Anthony's hand was a blur, making a wet rattling noise, and then Anthony's free hand took Sören's hand, gripping tight. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out, only a broken cry as his cock spurted, shooting cream over Sören's chest and stomach.
Sören climaxed hard, clit pulsing in time with Anthony's hole twitching. For a moment it felt like they were truly one flesh, swept away into the same magic bubble of ecstasy, formless, pure energy, pure joy. Then Sören felt Anthony's arms around him, pulling him close. They kissed deeply, and rubbed noses, laughing together in euphoria.
"I love you so much," Anthony said, stroking Sören's face, his hair.
"I love you, Daddy." Sören kissed the tip of Anthony's nose.
"Fuck, that was amazing." Anthony laughed again. "We definitely have to do that again from time to time."
Sören grinned. "Absolutely."
They snuggled for awhile, enjoying the blissful relief. Sören didn't quite doze off but he spaced out, feeling like his mind and body were both made of jelly. His alertness returned when Anthony rained kisses over his face. Then Anthony slid down and started licking his cum from Sören's torso. Each teasing lap of his tongue sent fire through Sören's veins, and Anthony knew it, kissing and nibbling between licks.
Anthony returned to Sören's side and they kissed and kissed. Once again, Anthony rubbed the head of his cock against Sören's clit, and kissed and licked Sören's neck. "You want it, baby?" Anthony nipped at the sweet hollow of Sören's neck and shoulder.
Sören took Anthony's face in his hands and kissed him, then they kissed open-mouthed, tongues rubbing together. "Please," Sören begged.
"How do you want it?" Anthony asked.
Sören considered, then he said, "I think I want to ride it."
"Good." Anthony grinned. "That's my favorite." Anthony bit his lip, cheeks pink. "And my favorite fantasy of you."
Sören's cunt throbbed, dripping again - the thought of Anthony stroking himself as he envisioned being ridden by him threatened to make him come untouched. Anthony lay back again and Sören climbed over him, straddling his hips. When they were both ready, Anthony's cock was on Sören's clit once more... then lower.
Sören took deep breaths as he felt Anthony's cock enter him. He sank down slowly, taking the cock inch by inch, stretching him. As wet as he was, it was still a tight fit, pinching, but Sören managed to get it all the way inside. Anthony let him rest, getting adjusted to the fullness inside him. Sören leaned in and Anthony wrapped his arms around him and kissed him passionately. "I love you so much," Anthony whispered.
"I love you, Daddy."
"That's my good boy." Anthony kissed him again. "That's my good, good boy."
Sören began to work his hips, riding slowly. Sören melted to the feel of Anthony's cock gliding up and down his inner walls, hitting a spot inside him that felt more and more delicious with each stroke. It didn't take long for Sören to start bouncing on Anthony's cock, the bed creaking. Soon the wet sloppy suctioning sound of their fuck rose above their moans and Anthony took hold of Sören's hips, bucking, balls smacking, making him work for it. Sören grabbed onto the headboard, whimpering as he took Anthony's cock with wild abandon, rode it like the thirsty gay bottom slut he was born to be. "Daddy," Sören cried out, losing his mind with pleasure. "Daddy, Daddy..."
"That's it, baby boy. Get that cock, baby. Show Daddy what a hungry cockslut you are."
"Daddy!" Sören loved it, rocking his hips as hard as he could. "Fuck me, Daddy..."
Anthony's left hand left Sören's hip and pressed firmly into Sören's mound, fingers rubbing Sören's hard clit in circles. The pleasure on his clit and inside him built and flowed together until nothing else existed but their fuck, their passion, love and pure animal lust, sacred and profane. Sören couldn't get enough, hearing himself beg for more, then not even able to make words, only whimpering, sobbing, as Anthony's cock claimed him over and over again, Anthony's fingers took him to new heights of excitement.
And then he was there. "Daddy, I'm gonna come."
"Yes, baby. That's a good boy." Anthony's fingers rubbed so hard it almost hurt. "Come for Daddy. Shoot that load for Daddy -"
Sören threw back his head and screamed as he shattered with the most intense orgasm he'd ever had in his life, deep contractions that surged through his entire body. Two thrusts later Anthony let out a hoarse shout and Sören felt hot liquid rush into him. Anthony shuddered and sighed, then his face lit up and that smile broke Sören's heart, filling his soul with light. He sank down against Anthony's chest and they kissed. Anthony rolled onto his side and they clung to each other, rocking together as Anthony rested inside him, their legs entwined.
"Thank you." Sören's eyes welled. "Takk, Pabbi..."
"Oh, baby boy, thank you." Anthony kissed the tears that silently flowed, and his own eyes misted. "That was beautiful. You're beautiful. I love you. I love you so much."
"I love you." Sören squeezed him.
Sören rested his head on Anthony's chest, listening to his heartbeat, feeling floaty again. Feeling like he'd come home after a long, battle-filled journey. He drank in that feeling of safety and contentment, cherished it like he had found something precious.
After a few minutes Anthony broke the silence. "Sören?"
"Hm?"
"So..." Anthony cleared his throat and sat up a little, still holding him. "In a few months - maybe around March or April when it's spring, so we're not having to get stuff done in bad weather... would you like to move in with me? You can bring Snúður, of course."
As if on cue, Snúður meowed from the hallway and deposited a toy mouse at the bedroom door, then ran off.
Sören nodded vigorously, overjoyed. "Yes."
"Good." Anthony kissed him, and then looked into Sören's eyes, his green eyes shining with love. He touched Sören's face and Sören touched his. "I know it's a bit soon, but... I want to build a life with you. I want to grow old with you."
"Me too." Sören nuzzled him. "And I get it. It just... feels right." Sören took Anthony's hand and put it on his heart. "I feel safe with you."
"I'll take care of you."
Sören nuzzled him again, reaching down to lovingly touch Anthony's bruised stomach. "We'll take care of each other."
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