Nicholas took a good look at himself in the full-length mirror by the front door. This evening he was wearing a dark grey suit with a waistcoat, a light grey shirt and a medium grey herringbone tie, a light grey handkerchief. He felt like wearing black for mourning but he didn't want to be too much of a downer; even with the dark grey, he wondered if it looked too somber. Nonetheless, Anthony was waiting outside, and Nicholas didn't want to keep him. With a sigh, he gave a nod before he reached for his black wool trenchcoat, and matching fedora. As he stepped out into the hall and then into the lift, his heart beat a little faster. He was in the mood to stay home and sulk, perhaps hide in his bed and cry, but he knew he had to do this, not simply to make Anthony feel less worried about him, but also to try to live again just a little. The show must go on.
Anthony looked dapper, in a charcoal grey blazer, white shirt, and black jeans; Nicholas thought Anthony's cane added a distinguished touch. And, Nicholas didn't want to notice him that way, especially when this was not a date in any way shape or form. Nicholas had gone to a hotel for the night of his birthday on the twenty-eighth, and Anthony was taking him out for New Year's Eve to make up for that and assuring Nicholas they were still friends, despite Sören's anger. They rode to Balthazar in a cab in awkward silence and as they walked to the entrance of the restaurant, Nicholas felt a surge of apprehension, like something was about to happen - the same feeling he got just before storms - and he didn't understand why. Anthony was perfectly calm and nonchalant.
They were seated and Nicholas took a menu to look over - force of habit, even though he'd been here enough times that he was familiar with the selection and the prices. He felt someone approaching and he looked up, assuming it was the waiter to take their drink orders. His eyes widened with shock when he saw Sören was being ushered to the table.
Sören looked more enchanting than he had any right to be - most of his hair was worn loose, curls cascading a few inches down his shoulders, and some of his hair was pulled back in a tail. He was wearing a ruffly black pirate shirt and black leather trousers. Sören looked just as shocked as Nicholas felt, and glanced at Anthony with a look of panic on his face.
Anthony rose up on his cane, walked over, put a hand on Sören's shoulder. "Sören, I'm very sorry. Please, please understand I'm not in the habit of lying to you, but this was planned for your own good."
Sören stammered, and gave Anthony a stricken look. Finally he found his words. "You have some fucking nerve -"
"Yes, I know." Anthony patted him, looking profoundly uncomfortable. "You can yell at me later, I'll understand. In the meantime, please try to talk with him -"
"Þú hefur ekkert fokking rétt! Hvernig dirfistu!" Sören's face was murderous.
Nicholas realized he'd been set up. "Et tu?" he asked.
Anthony nodded. "Sorry, but I needed to stage an intervention."
Nicholas pinched the bridge of his nose.
Anthony gave a small, sympathetic smile and whispered something in Sören's ear. Sören's eyes misted, his face going from anger to sorrow, and Anthony gave him a squeeze before he walked away. After a few paces, Anthony stopped the waiter, pulled out his wallet, and Nicholas heard him say, "Anything they order is on me."
Other people across several tables were staring at them now - Sören's outburst in Icelandic had made a scene - and Sören looked around, as if he too wanted to leave, but to Nicholas's mixture of dismay and relief, Sören sat down across from him.
"I have nothing to say to you," Sören said, taking a menu. "But I had a long fucking day and I'll take Anthony up on free food. He fucking owes me, making me do this."
Nicholas sighed.
As much as Nicholas wanted to try to reason with Sören again, he felt uncomfortable doing so when Sören was here as a captive audience rather than of his own accord. Yes, Sören could call a cab at any time and leave, but after an undoubtedly grueling shift Sören needed to eat, and Nicholas didn't want to get in the way of that. So he held his peace until they ordered, and after they ordered they went back to that stony, awkward silence. Sören kept looking away, but every now and again their eyes met for a few seconds, and after a few rounds of this Sören finally glared and said, "What?"
"My eyes have to look somewhere." And then before he could stop himself, Nicholas added, "It rather doesn't help that you're nice to look at."
Sören snorted. "Not nice enough, though."
Nicholas felt himself scowling. "Sören..." Even though he knew Sören really didn't want to have a conversation and he had been willing to just keep silent and not force discussion on him, the hurt in Sören's eyes chipped away at his reserve. "Anthony believed we could fix things, and perhaps he's not entirely foolish for believing that to be so. These last few days have felt like years. I have missed you, very much. Whether or not you want to believe me, it is the truth."
Sören looked down. His eyes misted again. Sören shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Jæja."
"Sören." Nicholas heard the huskiness in his voice, felt his own eyes tearing up. He ached to go over to Sören and take him in his arms. "I do miss you."
Sören looked up, and his jaw set. "You don't miss me enough and that's the problem. You and I both know that your idea of 'fixing things' is to make me turn that stone over to a museum. You need to be right more than you miss me, and I'm telling you right now, that's not fucking happening."
Nicholas exhaled sharply. "And it seems your idea of 'fixing things' is to make me throw away my values. It's as if you love that stone more than you love me."
"You don't get it, do you?" Sören shook his head. "It's not even about the stone at this point. It's everything surrounding it. If you keep pushing me to give up the stone, what else of my things, my life, are you going to ask me to give up next? How else are you going to push me?"
"It's just the one thing," Nicholas said. "Before you found that stone, we were fine."
"Were we?" Sören narrowed his eyes. "You know, when shit hit the fan with Anthony back in 2013, it wasn't so much the cheating, as everything surrounding it. All of the little cracks in the relationship that finally made it break. We came from two different worlds, and at the time he had his priorities skewed with his toxic friends, and the amount of posturing he had to do, which just kind of reinforced being mismatched at that time. Now with this... you want me to give up something of value to me, and you know perfectly damn well if I hand that stone into research I'm never gonna see it again, all based on hypothetical 'ifs', when I've had this stone for months and it hasn't given me any indicator it's of scientific importance beyond being warm and very, very bright. Because when it comes down to it, your perception of reality and mine are apparently two completely different fucking things, and that isn't very promising for the future."
Nicholas couldn't argue with that - Sören asking him to compromise his values and just let him keep the stone, keeping it away from research, was a sign of disconnect. Even so, Nicholas loved him. If there were cracks leading up to this fissure as the breaking point, he hadn't seen them. He believed if Sören hadn't found that stone, they'd still be together now. "Can we at least talk, and see if we can come to some sort of compromise, some middle ground? Yes, it belongs in a museum -"
"You belong in a museum."
Nicholas bristled, and then went on, deciding not to take the bait and just keep calm. "But perhaps only temporarily, to be studied. If I can guarantee that the stone will be returned to you within a few weeks or months -"
Sören snorted. "Fucking god." He buried his face in his hands. "You and I both know that's not going to happen," Sören said through his hands, and then Sören began to shake and Nicholas knew he was crying.
Nicholas sighed again. He felt on the verge of tears himself. He wondered if maybe he was being too hardline about this - if there would be any real harm in letting Sören keep the stone and turn it into a museum when he died. Nicholas knew that some of his vehemence with wanting Sören to surrender the stone was a belief that it might be some sort of miracle; his own generation, the boomers, had done a tremendous amount of damage to the Earth, and perhaps if he could encourage something that led to a scientific breakthrough that could help heal the damage done...
There was something beyond that, though - the feeling of doom, something about the stone that made him uneasy. It was marvelous to look at, almost like Sören had become a glass blower and made it himself, somehow, it was truly a work of art, but Nicholas couldn't shake the feeling that Sören being in possession of that stone was going to bring... what, he didn't know.
Maybe I'm wrong.
His need to "pay for his sins" with his generation was coming at the expense of his partner's mental health; as Nicholas watched Sören bury his face in his hands, heaving with silent tears, Nicholas could almost feel how deeply Sören was hurt. And his uneasiness with the stone was purely hypothetical. Was it not better to stop looking for trouble before it came? Couldn't he just trust that if the stone brought them problems, they would be able to handle it?
Nicholas sat there not knowing what to say. He didn't yet want to concede and back down from insisting Sören give the stone to science. But he was starting to feel like it was a lost cause, and part of him had died on this hill - the days Sören had ignored him were too long, he wanted him back, needed him back.
Nicholas leaned back in his chair. He still felt like he was betraying his personal values as an educator, a historian, a man who had once became a priest to try to change the world for the better, if he gave in. But it was getting more and more difficult to resist those brown eyes, those full lips, the sweet look on Sören's face as he appreciated the cat pictures. It was difficult to resist those memories of what they'd had together, and it would be even more difficult to go back to an empty flat once the dinner was over. An empty nest. It had been their nest. Their sanctuary.
Before Nicholas could find more words, the waiter came with their food. Sören passed the phone back and they ate in silence. Nicholas didn't want to get in the way of Sören eating since he'd had such a long shift, so he held his peace. When they were both finished eating, they didn't have to call for the check since Anthony was paying for everything, but Nicholas still wanted to leave a tip, and he saw Sören getting out his wallet to tip also.
"I can take care of the tip if you'd rather," Nicholas said, once again feeling somewhat guilty that Sören had been set up for this, as opposed to coming of his own accord. He hoped Sören and Anthony weren't going to end up breaking up over it. "If you tell me how much -"
Sören shook his head. "It's fine, Nick." Then Sören's mouth hung open, aware he was still calling Nicholas by the familiar name - something only Sören did, something only Sören could get away with.
That Sören let the name slip made Nicholas's lips quirk, fighting back a full smile, but that seemed almost... hopeful. It's just force of habit, Nicholas scolded himself, not wanting those hopes dashed.
After Sören put his wallet back in his pocket, Sören reached for something else - his cell phone. Nicholas wondered if he was going to show pictures of Anthony's cats, but instead Sören looked at his contacts and began to dial, and Nicholas's eyebrows shot up when he heard Sören telling the cab company there would be two passengers. Once Sören was done, they looked at each other for a long, awkward moment.
"I could walk home but I've been on my feet all day." Sören shrugged.
"Well, I thank you for the mention of the second passenger. As you know, I too could walk..."
"I can tolerate you for an extra five minutes." Sören almost smiled.
Nicholas didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He supposed being tolerated was a good start.
They sat outside to wait for the Uber. Nicholas fought the urge to put a hand on Sören's knee, or an arm around his shoulders. Nicholas couldn't help be reminded of when he was courting Sören, showing up at Sören's break at the National with food he'd made, and then they'd go for a walk together in the nearby park and sit for awhile - he hadn't been aware at the time that it was courting behavior, but in hindsight that was certainly what it was, trying to demonstrate that he could provide for his mate.
He wondered how Sören was faring now. He knew Anthony wouldn't let him starve, but he still worried about whether or not Sören was getting enough rest... how the post-breakup stress was affecting him. If Sören was doing even half as badly as he was, Sören was not doing very well at all. Nicholas hadn't felt truly rested in over a month.
"Sören." Nicholas wanted to touch him, pet him, bridge the gap between them some way, somehow, but he worried it would be unwelcome, that Sören would feel violated. "I'm sorry you're this hurt..."
Sören glared. Tears continued to flow down his cheeks, and Sören's voice shook as he snarled, "Are you? And you know, that's a non-apology. An 'I'm sorry you feel that way' instead of 'I'm sorry I hurt you'." Sören shook his head and sneered, before he fell apart again, weeping. "You don't get it. That's the problem. It's not even about the stone anymore. You. Don't. Get. It."
"I want to." Nicholas felt the tears spill out of his own eyes. Shit. "Sören, I..."
"Save it. Let's just get through the cab ride. Let's forget this night even happened."
"That might be easier for me than for you. You'll still have to deal with Anthony, who arranged for all of this. Even if you think I don't get it, I think he thinks I want to try." Nicholas couldn't believe he was about to say this, but here it was. "Sören, as you know, up to this point I thought any reconciliation would be me bringing you around to seeing things my way. But... perhaps I should take another approach. Help me to see it your way. Why you feel keeping something you found is more important than the scientific knowledge and potential breakthroughs it could foster." Then Nicholas had an epiphany, remembering the way Anthony whispered in Sören's ear before he left - he wondered if Anthony was taking one last attempt at using his mediation skills. "Sören, if this is too personal and none of my business, don't answer, but... what did Anthony say before he took off? What did he tell you?"
Sören took a few breaths, appearing to try to gather his composure. "He said, 'Tell him the same thing you told me, about Einar.'"
Nicholas's eyes widened, taken aback by the mention of Sören's abusive uncle, wondering what it had to do with the stone.
Sören folded his arms, looked down for what seemed like a maddeningly, impossibly long minute, as Nicholas felt like he could explode from wanting to know what was going on, and then finally he looked at Nicholas, met his eyes, all fire. "Some nights ago, I had a dream about my aunt and uncle. A nightmare. A flashback, to be precise. When I was twelve, I found a box of free art supplies on the side of the road. I took it home. I felt like I'd won the jackpot. Katrín caught me using them one day and said I was a 'trash-picking beggar'. She threw my paints around, then made me put them in the garbage. But it didn't stop there. When Einar got home, he said that if I like trash so much I can be trash, and he made me sit in a dumpster overnight. In fucking February in Iceland. It's a wonder I didn't get hypothermia."
Nicholas gasped. "Mon Dieu." The words cut him like a knife. He could just see it, and his heart broke. He knew Sören's childhood had been miserable, but every time he heard specific accounts of what Katrín and Einar had done it was even worse than he'd imagined. Sören growing up to become such a compassionate person was even more remarkable in the light of what he'd experienced, since many victims of child abuse themselves became abusers. Nicholas fought back the urge to take Sören into his arms. But now the tears flowed more freely.
Sören nodded. He clenched his teeth, then he went on, "The worst part about the dream isn't that it actually happened and I was reliving that horror all over again. The worst part was when I realized why I had that fucking dream." Their eyes locked again. "When I found that stone on the beach back in February, it was... I've never been religious, but it was one of the few times in my life when I genuinely felt something sacred. My life has been so dark at different times, and when Anthony and I went to Iceland last summer it felt like things were finally going to be OK, and that stone was just like... my hope, in physical form. And the thing is, I love Anthony very much, and when I lost him, the almost two years he wasn't in my life, it was like a piece of my soul died. But even though I'm with him again and we're happy or, you know... we were, before he decided to meddle, and now I'm going to have to talk to him about that... you and he aren't interchangeable. You found me when I was in one of those dark places and you helped put the broken pieces of me back together. You found me when I was at my most vulnerable, my most hurt, and I let you touch my wounds, and you took care of me. I haven't forgotten that. And I was at my happiest when I had both of you. You both give me something different, something I need. Anthony is my dom, but you were my daddy." Sören started to cry again. "You were my daddy. I came to you when I was lonely and hurt... and you made me feel safe again. You comforted that lost, orphaned part of me that wanted a home. And when you insisted I give up the stone, my stone, a symbol of my hope, the return of light... it was like my aunt and uncle making me throw away the art supplies I'd found, all over again." Sören broke down, weeping so brokenly that Nicholas let out a sob, after his efforts to keep his tears more restrained.
It was clear now. Even more than his job as an educator, a historian, his most important duty was to protect his mate's sensitive, vulnerable heart, and he'd failed in that. Nicholas realized how deep of a betrayal of trust that had been, and he hated himself for it now, knowing he'd wounded the most scarred and aching part of Sören, and it had been bleeding out this long. "I'm sorry." Nicholas said it, meant it. "I'm sorry I hurt you. Sören, I'm so sorry..."
"You were my daddy," Sören choked out. "After everything I've been through, I trusted you with that part of myself and you wanted to take my things away, just like they did..."
"I didn't know." Nicholas quickly added, "And that was no excuse. I should have asked you why you were so vehement -"
"I don't know if I would have been able to tell you." Sören closed his eyes, jaw trembling, shaking with the force of his tears. "I really hate talking about that part of my life, Nick. I worry people will think I'm making shit up, like nobody could be that bad to a little kid -"
"I believe you. And..." Nicholas held out his arms. "Sören, if it means that much to you, and if it hurts you that much... keep the stone. Just... forgive me. Stay with me." Nicholas let out another sob. He felt pathetic, crying this openly out in public, but his love for Sören completely undid him. His love was stronger than his pride, his dignity. "Daddy's sorry. Daddy's here -"
Sören went into his arms, and Nicholas squeezed him tight. He began rocking Sören, petting him, as Sören cried and cried on his shoulder. "Daddy," Sören wailed.
"I know." Nicholas closed his eyes, crying harder. "I know, sweetheart. Daddy's here. Daddy loves -"
The Uber beeped. Nicholas and Sören looked at each other, nodded, and then Sören got up and took Nicholas's hands, pulling him up from the bench, even though he didn't really need help. For a few seconds their hands lingered, and Nicholas squeezed Sören's hands, looking into his eyes. Sören squeezed Nicholas's hands back, then Sören started dragging Nicholas to the waiting cab. "Let's go home," Sören said.
_
On the way to their street Nicholas just held Sören, who wept more silently. He rocked Sören, pet him, heart continuing to break and bleed for the way he'd hurt Sören by asking him to give up the stone - wishing fiercely he could undo what was done - and shedding a few more quiet tears of his own not just because of how much he hurt for the man he loved, but it felt so good to have Sören in his arms again, felt so good to touch him...
They were let out in front of Nicholas's building. Sören entered the building with him. When they got in the lift together, Nicholas was instantly reminded that Sören had claustrophobia, and tended to have anxiety attacks in the lift; he could usually help Sören through them if he was there, holding him, being his daddy. He did that now, pulling Sören closer, holding him tighter, rocking him. "It's all right, sweetheart," Nicholas soothed, stroking Sören's curls. "Daddy's here. Daddy's got you..."
Sören picked his head up, eyes wide, and for an instant Nicholas worried Sören would have a meltdown and want to be let out of the elevator...
...and then Sören grabbed his face and kissed him hard.
Nicholas groaned as their tongues met and played for the first time in too long. God, he needed this. He craved this, and now that it was here, he matched Sören's hunger, tongues dueling, taking turns conquering and yielding, surrendering to the heady, intoxicating passion that had been too long denied. He shivered as Sören's hands slid down from his face to run over his chest. He grabbed Sören's wrists, guiding them, aching for Sören's touch, sending fire through his veins, a shiver down his spine, feeling himself break out in gooseflesh under his clothes.
They caught their breath and then Nicholas kissed Sören back, arms around him again, playing with Sören's hair, savoring the feel of Sören's curls, the feel of Sören's lips, the sensual swirling of their tongues, the way Sören tasted. He had been starving for this, and he needed more. So much more. Never enough.
Their tongues took a few playful licks and the lift doors opened. Sören began pushing Nicholas out of the elevator, which made Nicholas laugh, delighted, and once they were in the hallway and marching to the door Sören grabbed him and kissed him again, kissing him all the way to the door. Once they got to the door Nicholas fumbled for his keys, hands trembling with desire, head spinning - his cock was already standing at attention in his trousers, and it didn't help when Sören moved in closer, letting Nicholas feel he was just as hard, their hard bulges rubbing together as Sören started kissing and licking his neck. Nicholas moaned before he found his keys and brought them to the door. He could barely turn the lock, hearing himself gasp as Sören's lips and tongue worked their magic on his sensitive neck and throat. When he managed to unlock the door he took charge again, pulling Sören's hair to lead him through the door, claiming his mouth again. Hearing Sören whimper, feeling Sören tremble against him, made Nicholas crazy. It had been too long, and every nerve in his body was screaming to fuck, to take what was his.
As they stepped into the flat, Tobias came running out, and bounded onto the armchair, climbing up to the back. He meowed, obviously wanting Sören's attention.
"Why, hello there." Sören stepped over to pet Tobias, who began to headbutt Sören over and over, purring loudly. Nicholas chuckled - he loved seeing Sören spoil the cat with affection. Sören's face lit up as he skritched and stroked the cat and was rewarded with more headbutts and Tobias rubbing his wet nose and cheeks on Sören's hand. "Yes, I missed you too. Yes, I love you. You're a good kitty, oh yes you are..."
Nicholas's heart melted at Sören petting the cat, beaming, getting choked up again. Feeling another surge of passion he pulled Sören back towards him and kissed him hard. They both moaned into the kiss and Nicholas took Sören's hand and moved it down to the hardness in his trousers, urgent. Sören laughed softly and his palm gently rubbed; Nicholas groaned, shivering at Sören's touch.
"Mmmm, Daddy." Sören kissed him back, and then started kissing Nicholas's neck again. "What do we have here, Daddy?"
They paused to take off their shoes... but Sören didn't stop there. Nicholas watched with surprise, delight, and desire as Sören undid his belt and then his leather pants, taking them off right there, letting them drop to the floor. Nicholas couldn't help the moan that came out of him at the sight of the black lace thong Sören was wearing. Then Sören took that off too, freeing his hard cock - and he turned around to reveal a plug in his ass, which was also glistening with a good amount of lubricant.
"You know," Sören husked, "Anthony told me to wear this tonight. It's like he knew you and I were going to have makeup sex."
"I shall have to thank him later." Nicholas shoved away the delicious, forbidden mental image of "thanking" Anthony with a blowjob, just before he came closer and for the first time in too long, he reached out to cup and squeeze the perfect pale peach. Sören gasped and moaned, and Nicholas groaned as his hands caressed and rubbed the petal-soft skin. He gave Sören's ass a swat, and Sören wiggled his ass in response, giggling. Nicholas's cock was almost unbearably hard now, his balls about ready to explode. When he pulled out the plug and saw Sören's passage open and waiting, all lubed up, something snapped in his brain. He needed to fuck now.
Nicholas quickly took down his own trousers and briefs. His cock was flushed a deep pink and leaking precum. He stepped right behind Sören and the little minx backed up against him, grinding his ass on the hard cock; the sigh Sören made as Nicholas's cock rubbed in the crack of his ass almost undid Nicholas right then. "Hi, Daddy," Sören purred. "Are you gonna welcome me home now?"
"Yes."
Nicholas found himself doing something he'd never done before - pushing Sören down on the rug. Sören immediately got into position on all fours, panting for it, and Nicholas climbed over him. The arthritis in Nicholas's knees twinged - he was going to pay for this tomorrow - but right now pure animal need took over. Nicholas guided the tip of his cock to Sören's open, slick channel, and Sören backed up against him yet again. "Fuck, yes," Sören whispered.
Nicholas pushed inside, and when they were joined all the way, they cried out together. The silken heat of Sören wrapped around him was indescribably right, and Nicholas paused a moment to savor before he began to thrust.
As Nicholas rocked into Sören, he kissed Sören's neck. "Yes, Daddy, yes, Daddy, fuck me," Sören moaned, working his own hips, matching Nicholas's rhythm. Nicholas grunted and nibbled Sören's neck, reached an arm around so he could play with Sören's cock. "Oh, Daddy," Sören sighed.
"Do you like that, sweetheart?" He knew the answer, but he liked hearing it anyway.
"God, fuck, yes, Daddy, oh god Daddy, that feels so fucking good..."
Sören tilted his head and they kissed. Their tongues teased between kisses, which fueled Nicholas's lust even hotter, as did the way Sören whimpered into each kiss. Nicholas gripped Sören's cock tighter, and went back to kissing Sören's neck. "That's Daddy's boy," Nicholas rasped.
"Oh god." Sören shuddered. "Oh god, Daddy, I missed Daddy's cock so much..."
"I missed my boy." Nicholas nuzzled Sören's neck before kissing it some more, licking, nibbling. "But you're home now, and Daddy's taking care of you."
"Mmmm, Daddy, you take such good care of me."
Those words went right to Nicholas's heart. He couldn't undo the hurt he caused, he couldn't even really make up for it, but it meant the world to him that Sören seemed to understand he was going to try to do better. "I love you," Nicholas husked.
"I love you, Daddy." Sören turned his head again for another deep, sensual kiss.
Their tongues played, they kissed again, and then Nicholas resumed kissing Sören's neck, breathing him in, as the rhythm of their hips, gliding in and out of Sören's rippling velvet, brought Nicholas to that edge. Nicholas growled and nipped at Sören's neck, making himself hold back, wanting Sören's pleasure first. "I love fucking my boy."
Sören cried out. Nicholas swore so rarely, and he knew using that language in the heat of passion had an effect on his lover, letting Sören know how much he was into this, wanted this, lost beyond reason. "Daddy," Sören gasped. "Oh, Daddy, you fuck me so good..."
"Mmmmmm. Daddy loves having special time with his special boy..."
"More," Sören moaned. Nicholas made a deep, primal noise and started to slam into Sören harder, driven mad with lust by that one word. Sören knew it, too, and let out a desperate whine before he begged "More, Daddy, more... oh god, Daddy, more, more, give me more, Daddy, more..."
"That's my boy." Nicholas clenched his teeth, shaking, trying not to come. Every smack of his aching balls against Sören's threatened to bring him off. "Good boy..."
"More, Daddy! More, Daddy, more, more, more, Daddy, I need more, give me more, I want more, more..."
"Fuck." Nicholas nipped at Sören's neck again and kissed it hungrily, licked it, before claiming Sören's mouth again - as delicious as it was for Sören to beg, it was also his undoing.
"Mhm. Mhm, mhm..." Sören kissed him back, grabbing the edges of the rug white-knuckled. Sören let out another cry of "more, Daddy," before Nicholas kissed him again, gripped Sören's cock as tight as he could and jerked it furiously. Sören gave a high-pitched "Mmmf!" and Nicholas felt Sören quiver - he knew Sören was almost there.
"Be a good boy and come for Daddy," Nicholas whispered before he kissed Sören once more, deep, soulful, trying to convey all his love and pent-up hunger and desire in that single kiss.
A few more strokes of Nicholas's wrist and Sören erupted, creaming all over Nicholas's hand, crying out into the kiss as his passage contracted and pulsed, milking Nicholas's cock. A few more thrusts and Nicholas spent, throwing his head back with a shout of "Sören!"
Sören made a deep, satisfied purring noise as he sank down onto the rug, and Nicholas sank down with him, shaking, the pleasure throbbing so sweetly, seemingly endless. Nicholas's toes curled involuntarily and he heard himself laughing as sheer relief flooded through him. He came back. It's all right now. He's home.
Sören started laughing too. "Jesus, I can't believe you fucked me on the floor."
"Technically, the rug."
Sören laughed harder, snorting. He turned his face to kiss the tip of Nicholas's nose, bright red, tearing up. "Nick, don't ever fucking change."
Nicholas sighed. He touched Sören's cheek and kissed it. "In some ways I think I have to. I was an ignorant fool about the stone. I didn't realize how my asking you to turn it over to science would trigger -"
Sören put a finger to Nicholas's lips. "You know what I meant. For the most part, I find you being a stodgy old academic a good thing." Sören's lips quirked with amusement. "It's endearing. It's cute."
"I am not cute."
"And it means it's that much more of a fun surprise when you're a fucking animal in bed."
Nicholas laughed again. "I have my moments, I suppose. Though, as you know, this isn't the bed -"
Sören cracked up, snorting some more, tears flowing. "Dammit, Nick."
They lay there on the rug for a few minutes, coming down. Somehow, Nicholas managed to climb up from atop Sören on the floor. Tobias gave him an indignant look, like You brought my other person back home just to ignore me.
Even though Tobias's dish was half-full, Nicholas still gave in and opened a new can of food to appease him. Sören snickered as he rose. "He's making you feel guilty, isn't he?"
"Quite." Nicholas snickered at Tobias practically inhaling the new food. Then he looked at Sören's naked lower half, and down at his own, and laughed harder, feeling ridiculous about walking around the kitchen half-naked. "Let's go upstairs."
Once they were upstairs in Nicholas's bedroom - their bedroom, once more - they undressed all the way. Nicholas admired the sight of Sören naked, taking in the tattoos and piercings - adornments, art - the lithe, yet undeniably masculine, frame. But they didn't launch immediately into a second round. Nicholas held out his arms and Sören climbed over him and snuggled into his chest. For a little while they just held each other, skin to skin, needing to be tangled up together, cuddling safe and warm. But then Sören began rubbing Nicholas's chest hair, and Nicholas melted at Sören's touch.
"I missed your sexy fur, Daddy," Sören husked.
With that, Sören rubbed his nose in it, and eventually he began licking it, grooming it with his tongue. The innocent eroticism of it made Nicholas's cock stir, despite how intense that first orgasm had been and him being at an age where he was "one and done" more often than not. When Sören's tongue lapped at his nipples, Nicholas's cock rose all the way and he groaned.
"You're such a naughty boy," Nicholas whispered.
"Mmmmmm. I'm your naughty boy, Daddy," Sören said.
"Yes. You're mine." Their eyes met. He touched Sören's face. "But you ran away from home."
"I did." Sören pouted. "I'm sorry, Daddy."
"Not as sorry as your pretty arse is going to be." While Nicholas knew he was the one at fault in the stone debacle, he knew Sören still needed this - and Nicholas needed it too. Nicholas rubbed Sören's ass and Sören took the cue to get into position, laying across Nicholas's lap.
"How does twenty spankings sound, you naughty thing?"
"Yes, Daddy, please."
Nicholas slapped Sören's ass. "One."
Sören moaned and started rubbing his hard cock against Nicholas's thigh. "Ooh, Daddy."
Nicholas slapped Sören's ass harder. "Two."
"Daddy!"
As Nicholas counted on, his cock stiffened, watching Sören's ass turn a lovely shade of pink, watching Sören's hole twitch, feeling Sören's hard cock drip precum over his thigh. By the time Nicholas reached twenty Sören was panting, whimpering, begging to be fucked again.
"Sit on Daddy's lap," Nicholas commanded, knowing Sören knew what he meant.
Sören straddled Nicholas's hips, and sank down on Nicholas's cock. They both groaned, before Sören leaned in to give him a long, deep, hungry kiss. Then Sören waited for further instruction.
Nicholas took Sören's chin in his hand and made Sören look him in the eye. "If there is ever an issue again, we need to talk things out, and perhaps have someone present who can help facilitate the discussion, like Anthony. And if something I've said or done hits a trigger from your past, I want you to tell me. Don't be afraid of it sounding unbelievable, that I would think someone would 'never do that' to you. Just let me know where it hurts, so I can try to avoid injuring that wounded place again."
Sören nodded. "OK, Daddy." Then Sören gave a wicked grin.
Nicholas raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"I swear to god you're the only person in the world capable of having someone sit on his hard cock while using the word 'facilitate'."
Nicholas facepalmed, and shook with laughter before he swatted Sören's ass again. "Brat."
Sören stuck his tongue out. "I have such an erudite daddy."
"I guess that means you had better get to work to help me forget all that vocabulary."
Sören began to ride. He ran his hands up and down Nicholas's chest, rubbing the chest hair again. "Mmmm, I guess so." Sören leaned in to steal a kiss. Then Sören grinned again. "I like it when Daddy says 'fuck'."
Nicholas chucked Sören's chin. "I like fucking my boy." Nicholas pulled Sören into another kiss and Sören bounced harder, faster. Nicholas groaned, and one hand started to play with Sören's cock, his other hand wandering over Sören's body, needing to touch, feel, every place he could reach, missing Sören's beautiful body so much. "My beautiful boy." Nicholas kissed him again. "My good boy."
"Oh, Daddy..."
chapter 4 | return to Learning To Fly | return to Other Tolkien Fic | return to index