Hello, It's Me: Chapter 15

November thirtieth was the last day of school for the year, and as such, Sören had elected to ride home with Dooku. It was a rainy day, and as he drove, Dooku kept glancing over at Sören, unwinding to the sound of the rain, the gentle swish and clack of the windshield wipers. Dooku admired the beauty of Sören at peace, long lashes curled against his cheeks, full lips parted slightly. Dooku, meanwhile, was stormier inside than the rain, and after a little while Sören noticed and glanced over, all worried brown eyes.

"What is it, Nico?" Sören put a hand on Dooku's shoulder.

Dooku thrilled even to that little touch, cock stirring. He managed a tight smile. "Oh yes, Sören, I'm fine." Dooku took one hand off the wheel to pat the hand on his shoulder, lingering for a few seconds before he put it back on the wheel. "It's just been a very long day."

"Yeah, especially after that nice vacation."

"Indeed." Dooku frowned.

"Now we don't have to go back for an entire month."

"No." Dooku sighed. "To be honest, I am already dreading the new school year."

"Oh boy."

"The end of the semester couldn't come quickly enough. When I first became a teacher I was excited about helping to guide minds. Understanding history is important. But I have been wondering as of late if I am no longer suited for it. Burning out more and more each year, as it seems harder and harder to teach each successive group of students. Do you know that I graded a paper recently wherein one of my students had a passage about cinnabar and described cinnabar as 'bronze-colored'." Dooku snorted with disdain, feeling his frown intensify. "Cinnabar. Bronze. As you know, cinnabar and bronze are not the same color. Bronze is not red."

"I know," Sören said; Dooku noticed he was trying not to laugh. "I paint, Nico. I can tell my colors apart."

"Apparently my student cannot. So I demonstrated the color red... with my marking pen. I don't know what the American pre-college education system is like these days but it is producing a nation of functional illiterates. It's no wonder Trump got elected..."

Sören covered his mouth, and Dooku glanced over, glaring. "What. What."

"Oh, just..." Sören pulled his hand away and grinned. "You're cute."

Dooku's eyes narrowed. "I am not cute."

"Hi Not Cute."

Dooku let out an exaggerated sigh and rolled his eyes. Sören leaned in and kissed Dooku's cheek - it felt so good to have their feelings out in the open and be able to express affection like this. Dooku felt his cheeks flush, and he turned his head to kiss the tip of Sören's nose before turning his attention back to the road.

"Anyway," Dooku said, "that's what is troubling me. Even if this upcoming semester was not to be my final one, should I say yes to Mark... I would still necessarily be thinking about retirement. And that makes me feel old. Like an old, irrelevant stick-in-the-mud getting angry at the youth for coming to me without a basic understanding of colors, or grammar, or..." Dooku cringed. "It's ending on such a bitter note, when teaching used to bring me such joy."

"Listen, Nico, if you want to retire, retire. Maybe don't see it as an ending, but an opportunity to do something new. Something else you're passionate about." Sören leered then. "If you retire, you have more time for sex."

Now Dooku was the one to laugh, face on fire. Sören was incorrigible, and he loved him for that. He needed the laugh... and Sören's beautiful smile, eyes shining.

"Come on, let's hit Starbucks," Sören said. "I'm in the mood for pumpkin spice."

"I would have thought from that comment you were in the mood for something else."

"Jæja, I'm also in the mood for... Old Spice."

Dooku glared. Sören stuck his tongue out, and they laughed together. "So long as you don't think I'm too old," Dooku said, taking the turn that would lead them to Starbucks. "That was one of the reasons why I held back on telling you."

"Oh, Nico." Sören shook his head. "I like you being older. You're my daddy. Besides... you've got nothing on Mark, age-wise."

Dooku chuckled, even as heat seared him, that thrust in his loins at Sören calling him daddy. "True, but I didn't know that until recently." Dooku sighed. "It's all so very strange."

"It is." Sören nodded. "Hell, I've known for over a year and it still breaks my brain."

"Well..." Dooku couldn't resist an attempt at humor, not wanting to dwell on the weight of what Mark was, who and what they were. "Broken that your brain might be, you still know the difference between cinnabar and bronze."

Sören giggled. "You are never going to let that go, are you?"

"Let me put it to you this way, my dear - I find Mark as an Elf, you and I as Elves reborn as human, to be far more believable than someone mistaking bronze and cinnabar as the same color. I still can't believe I read that with my own eyes."

Sören's laughter rang out.

At a table in Starbucks, Dooku finally started to relax a little, watching Sören drink his pumpkin spice latte and get whipped cream on his nose. Dooku let it sit there for a moment, finding it adorable, before he informed Sören. Sören reached for a napkin and Dooku leaned across the table and kissed it off Sören's nose, not caring who saw them and disapproved.

Sören flushed, and Dooku smiled at him. Then Sören began licking at his pastry, slowly and suggestively. A few bites into his pastry, Sören shook with silent laughter, giving Dooku a naughty grin.

"What," Dooku said, expecting Sören to make a remark about how the frosting resembled semen.

"I'm eating a cinnamon roll. And it's, you know... bronze-colored."

Dooku groaned, pinched the bridge of his nose, and kicked Sören under the table. Sören kicked him back and started playing footsie.

"Brat," Dooku said, not unkindly.

Sören licked more frosting from his cinnamon roll.

Dooku's mind was buried in the gutter now. Anthony wouldn't be getting back from Portland until after six, possibly closer to seven depending on traffic. They had some time, and Anthony's blessing, so after they left Starbucks, Dooku drove in the direction of his house rather than Sören and Mark's place. As soon as they got in the door, Dooku pulled Sören against him, claiming his mouth with a deep, hungry kiss.

"I love you," Dooku said when the kiss broke, both of them breathing harder.

Sören slammed Dooku against the wall and kissed him fiercely, hands sliding down Dooku's chest. Sören began undoing Dooku's trenchcoat, then grabbed at Dooku's tie. Dooku moaned, cock jolting, and with trembling hands he worked open the buttons of Sören's sweater vest, then the button-down shirt underneath. He needed. Wanted. Craved. Now. Right now.

"I love you," Sören whispered as his chest was exposed, nipples hard. He took one of Dooku's hands and put it on his heart, and they kissed again. And again.

Their trousers and underwear fell to the floor, next to their shoes and socks. Fully nude, they stood together, cock to cock, kissing passionately, holding each other. Then Dooku picked Sören up off the floor and carried him to the bedroom, with Sören kissing his neck all the way there, Dooku's cock throbbing with each teasing kiss.

Dooku put Sören down on the bed and climbed over him. Atop Sören, Dooku's mouth met his again, taking Sören's hands as cock rubbed against cock, both of them already dripping precum. "I love you," Dooku said again, kissing and licking Sören's neck, taking a nibble here and there. "I love you, darling. I love you..."

"I love you so much." Sören let go of Dooku's hands, took Dooku's face and kissed him. Then Dooku was kissing Sören's neck again, his throat, the sweet hollow where neck and shoulder met. Going out of his mind with lust as Sören's cock teased his, as Sören arched to him, as Dooku's eyes feasted on Sören's tempting body with its lithe frame, exotic ink and piercings. The love in those brown eyes, shining, burning.

Dooku wanted to explore Sören's body, expressing his love by kissing and touching Sören everywhere, but his balls felt ready to explode, and apparently Sören felt the same way because a few hot, needy kisses later, Sören shoved Dooku onto his back and straddled him. But instead of sinking down right away, Sören guided Dooku's hand to his passage. Dooku raised an eyebrow as he felt something sticking out of Sören. Sören moved Dooku's fingers around it and said, "Go on, pull it out."

It was a black buttplug, slick with lubricant. Sören raised his hips, spreading wider to give Dooku a good look at his hole, open and ready. Dooku's cock twitched at the sight of it and he let out an appreciative groan.

"You are so naughty," Dooku said. "Were you wearing that on campus all day?"

Sören nodded, then crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip, leaning in to steal a kiss. "Is Daddy going to give me a spanking?"

Dooku swatted one of Sören's ass cheeks, then the other. Sören's cock leapt, and Dooku groaned again, his own cock throbbing in response. Dooku smacked Sören's ass again, and again. They kissed, and Dooku started kissing Sören's neck as he reached for the lube. "Daddy's going to make your arse very sore indeed."

"Promises, promises."

Dooku slapped Sören's ass, before pouring lube over his cock. Sören reached in to work it over, stroking Dooku's cock as they kissed. When they were both ready, Sören scooted up over Dooku's hips and then down. Dooku watched Sören's hole take his cock inch by inch, and when he was in all the way their eyes met. They had done this a few times before, in the context of a foursome with Mark and Anthony - it was just the two of them right now before Anthony got home, before Dooku took Sören back to Mark. After two years of pining, despairing of a love that seemed impossible, they were joined. They were one. I am my beloved's, and he is mine.

Sören threw his arms around Dooku's neck and kissed him hard. Then he began to ride, bouncing frenziedly, like he had been pent up for this all day. Dooku rolled his hips, thrusting into Sören, giving it right back. He grabbed Sören's hips and Sören grabbed onto his shoulders, Sören holding on for dear life as Sören rode him with wild abandon, with all of the fire that had been raging for two years. For two lifetimes, for eons. They were together again. They had gotten another chance, and Fingolfin was never going to let Fëanor go. They needed each other. They needed this, the catharsis, the consuming fire. This was not sin, this was sacred. This was right.

"Oh, Daddy," Sören moaned. He bit his lip and let out a little growl. "Pabbi. Daddy. Pabbi..."

"Yes, sweetheart." Dooku's hands slid up from Sören's hips; he wrapped his arms around Sören, pulling him closer. Sören's hard cock slapped against his stomach. "Oh, my love."

"God, I want you." Sören's hands ran over Dooku's chest, fingers playing in the chest hair. Sören's hands caressed Dooku's hairy arms and then his thighs; Sören shivered and his breath hitched. "You are so fucking sexy."

"You're beautiful." Dooku touched Sören's face. "My beautiful, darling boy."

Sören leaned in and they kissed. And kissed. Kisses so deep and fierce it felt like there was nothing else in the universe. Then Dooku pulled Sören yet closer, Sören bucking away madly, and Dooku kissed down Sören's neck, kissed his way to Sören's chest, to take slow, loving licks at one nipple, then the other. Suckling one, as he rubbed and pinched the other. Lapping harder, sucking harder, making Sören cry out. Dooku's free hand slid down Sören's stomach, his thigh, and found its way to Sören's cock, seizing it with a firm grip, stroking, as he continued to lavish love on the pierced nipples that had starred in so many of his fantasies, tongue lashing away, lips pulling at one, then giving the other the same treatment, making Sören howl and pant, nails digging into Dooku's shoulders, Sören riding even more urgently. Their bodies smacked together, bed rocking against the wall, Dooku's groans and grunts joining Sören's broken cries. Sören's silken heat felt so good wrapped around him, and Dooku lost himself in pleasuring Sören's nipples, until they were both trembling, gasping for breath, so close, right there, right there...

"Daddy. Pabbi. Yes, Daddy, yes Pabbi, yes, oh god, Daddy, I need to come, Daddy, please..."

Dooku growled and nipped Sören's neck. Their mouths met again, tongues playing together so sensually that as much as Dooku wanted to hold back, just a little more, needing to feel Sören, needing to take him over and over... his balls tightened, his body rushing off the edge. "Come with me, love," Dooku husked, and kissed Sören one last time, both men crying out into the kiss as Sören's seed shot over both of them, Sören's passage clenching and pulsing around his cock, Dooku's cock throbbing with it, spending and spending. Melting. In the long contracting orgasm, it was like being immolated, dying and reborn, both of them pure fire, pure light.

"I love you. I love you, love you, love you," Sören called out, clinging to him.

"I love you, sweetheart." Dooku rained kisses over Sören's face, as tender as their passion had been fierce and animal. "I love you, darling. My sweet boy. My good boy."

Dooku pulled Sören close and held him tight, resting inside him. They rocked together, coming down from their climax, into that peaceful, blissful feeling that was as good as the orgasm itself, if not better. Dooku understood why it was called the afterglow now, like they were floating on a sunbeam. He understood why people made such a big deal about sex. He loved it.

And his body was determined to make up for lost time. They nuzzled, giving each other soft, sweet little kisses, and soon the kisses lingered, until their tongues were teasing again, hands wandering, and Dooku's cock rose inside Sören once more. Sören giggled and kissed the tip of Dooku's nose. "You're almost as bad as I am."

Dooku smirked. "Good."

Sören smirked back. "It's like we're related."

"As you know..."

Sören silenced him with a kiss. Then Dooku rolled Sören onto his back, and with Sören's arms and legs wrapped around him, Sören holding him with all of himself, Dooku began to thrust, slowly. With their foreheads pressed together, they looked into each other's eyes, breathing each other's breath.

Tears stung Dooku's eyes, overcome by emotion. He still couldn't believe this was real. This was really happening. They were together, love confessed, no more pining, giving into mutual attraction, mutual passion. He loved Sören so much, the man who kept fighting after all life had thrown at him, the man who had known so much ugliness and cruelty and still brought beauty into the world and encouraged others to do the same. He had Sören, and Anthony, and now Mark too, each of them pieces of a greater whole, something he didn't know he had been missing but couldn't do without now. And here, now, the Fingolfin part of him rejoiced with each thrust inside his Fëanor, so sweet, so healing. Whatever time he had left, he was going to cherish it, he was going to live it to the fullest.

Dooku took his time, savoring the wet silk of Sören's insides kissing, embracing his cock, Sören's inner muscles rippling around him with each slow thrust. Savoring the heat in Sören's brown eyes, the breathy moans, the roll of Sören's hips, the hard nipples. Savoring the feel of Sören's hands on him once more, making Dooku shiver and break out in gooseflesh to his touch, cock throbbing, body sensitized, electrified. It was difficult to hold back and keep it slow, but Dooku wanted to stay in this safe place, this sacred place, as long as he could. The magic circle of Fëanor and Fingolfin's love, like a shield wall made of light. The light of the Silmarils, the promise of their bond across time and space.

But as Dooku started kissing Sören's neck again, and down to his nipples to tease them once more, Sören bucked and began rocking his hips back at Dooku, fucking himself on Dooku's cock, and Dooku couldn't help but match his rhythm, harder and faster, until at last he was pounding Sören into the mattress, fast and furious, Sören's legs on his shoulders as Sören begged "More, Daddy, more... fuck me, Pabbi, fuck me, Daddy, more, Daddy, more, just like that, more..."

The sight of Sören stroking himself feverishly, biting his lip, making urgent little whimpers, drove Dooku wild. His balls slapped Sören's ass, harder and harder, louder and louder, mindless with savage, primal lust, wanting to fuck. Their eyes met and Sören whimpered again. Dooku reached down and grabbed Sören's cock, stroking it harder than Sören had been stroking it, continuing to slam into him. Sören grabbed the pillow, white-knuckled, continuing to rock his hips back at Dooku, keening, and then...

"Oh god. Daddy. Daddy. Daddy, I'm gonna come, Daddy, you're gonna make me come..."

"Yes, love. Come for me. Come for Daddy. That's a good boy..."

Sören cried out, and the feel of Sören's cum spurting over his chest and stomach, the pulsing channel, made Dooku come too, letting out a cry of his own as his second orgasm overtook him, dizzying, ringing, falling and flying. Soaring. He collapsed onto Sören, laughing and crying, feeling joy and love so fierce it hurt. Everything was beautiful. They were together. They were one. They were free at last, to love each other, to live in the light of that love.

"My darling." Dooku kissed him deeply. "My sweet boy. I love you so much. I love you so very, very much."

"God, I love you." Sören laughed, his face lit up. That beautiful smile made Dooku cry again.

They held each other, rocking together, laughing, sobbing. They had lost so much, suffered so much... but they had found paradise. Dooku could feel it in the core of his being - no matter where he was in the world, so long as he had Fëanor and Finarfin and Maglor, he was home. The thought of starting his life over again in an unfamiliar place was terrifying - but also exhilarating. They would find a way to make it work, Dooku was sure of that.

"Yes," Dooku said.

"Yes, what?" Sören raised an eyebrow.

"I..." Dooku swallowed hard. He stroked Sören's cheek, looking into those brown eyes he loved so much. "I want to follow you and Mark, wherever you go. I know it may seem a bit soon, when I have until February, but..."

Sören nodded. "No, I understand. Sometimes you just know."

Dooku nodded too.

Then Sören narrowed his eyes. "What about Anthony?"

"Well, as you know, I don't speak for Anthony, but I'm sure he -"

As if on cue, Beowulf hopped into the bed with a "prrp?" and he had an off-white curly wig in his mouth. This was the wig Anthony had worn as a barrister in the English court, and had taken with him as a souvenir of his old life. Beowulf dropped the wig onto Sören's face, and Sören laughed hysterically, first muffled by the wig, then his laughter ringing out as he took the wig and put it on his head, slightly askew.

Sören propped himself up on one elbow. "There's our sign, I guess."

"Indeed."

"We'll have to talk to Anthony to confirm, but it looks like we're a package deal now. You, me, Mark, Anthony, the cats and the dog..." Sören tapped the wig on his head. "Whatever the fuck this thing is."

Anthony cleared his throat very loudly in the bedroom door. Dooku looked over his shoulder, and Anthony waved. Sören waved back and grinned.

"That's... that's a look," Anthony said, shaking with laughter. Then he narrowed his eyes, pretending to glare. "And 'whatever the fuck this thing is'? Really?"

Sören took the wig off and examined it closely. "I mean, it looks like an overgrown Tribble or something."

Anthony had to lean against the doorjamb, doubled over.

Sören started petting the wig like it was a cat. "He needs a name."

"No, he does not need a name - it. IT. It is an inanimate object -"

"What's that?" Sören held the wig up to his ear and made the wig nod like it was speaking. "His name is George," Sören informed Anthony.

Anthony sat on the edge of the bed, put Sören in a headlock, and gave him noogies. Then he snatched his wig away from Sören with a flourish that Beyonce would approve of, and tossed it onto the floor, where Beowulf pounced on it.

"You're a brat," Anthony told Sören.

"Thank you."

Anthony kissed the tip of his nose. "My answer is yes, too."

"Good."

"Not just to coming along with you, but... you can call me Tony. Though I prefer to be called Anthony in bed. It's a control thing."

"Still, I get Tony privileges now?"

Anthony nodded solemnly.

Sören grinned. "Grrrrreat."

Anthony gave Sören more noogies, and started tickling him mercilessly. Dooku laughed, watching them fondly. Libido stirring again when Sören disarmed Anthony with a kiss. And another. Anthony began undressing, with Sören's help.

Dooku sighed contentedly, coming closer, cock ready once more. He could get used to this. He could get very used to this indeed.

chapter 16 | return to Under The Rose | return to index