Love Is A Long Road: Chapter 4

"Indeed. Not our finest moment, as a couple."

Sören took off the blindfold.

Nicholas glanced up and saw they were standing in front of the Icelandic Phallological Museum.

When Sören had made the "you belong in a museum" snark, he hadn't meant this, but now that they were visiting Reykjavik, he seized the opportunity to further mend fences between them with some levity. Nicholas raised an eyebrow. "So you think I'm a dick."

Sören was tickled by Nicholas's use of slang, which happened so rarely. "As you know..." Then Sören elbowed him, chuckling. "You were being a dick when we had our falling out, but..." Sören ushered him inside.

The look on Nicholas's face was priceless, and Sören took out his phone and snapped a few candid photos of Nicholas reacting to the specimens of penises from different animals... which included a human penis. As Nicholas observed the preserved human penis, looking like he couldn't believe he was in this place, looking at penises, Sören leaned in and whispered, "Also part of why you belong in a museum. You're impressive."

Nicholas's face turned pink and Sören could tell he was trying not to smile, continuing to feign annoyance and not "encourage" Sören's shenanigans, but Nicholas couldn't keep up the pretense very long and he shook, face breaking into that cheesy, dorky grin that Sören found adorable. Sören kissed the tip of his nose.

"I do believe that is the strangest compliment you've ever given me," Nicholas said, "or that I've received from anyone."

"Good." Sören put an arm around him and led him along.

Nicholas's moment of regained composure was quickly undone when he saw the alleged elf penis sample. "Er."

"Yes." Sören was laughing so hard his face hurt. "Welcome to Iceland."

"Have I now seen the weirdest thing in Iceland?" Nicholas gave Sören a pointed look. "Besides yourself."

Sören smirked. "I'd take you to the Museum of Icelandic Witchcraft and Sorcery in Hólmavík to see the nábrækur, but that's a three-hour drive one way and the roads up there suck during the winter."

Nicholas blinked. "Now-bray..." He couldn't pronounce it. "The what now."

"Nábrækur. Ah... necropants, English speakers call them. It was a medieval spell where you skin a dead man's lower half and..."

Nicholas pinched the bridge of his nose. Sören gigglesnorted and patted him.

"In all seriousness though, we should go to that museum sometime, like if we come here during the summer." Anthony should come with us. "The drive up there is gorgeous and there's more to see besides that museum. There's another museum, which shows the conditions people lived in back then, and the Strandir coast is..." Sören did a chef kiss.

"You're familiar with the area?"

"When I did my medical internship, that was where I worked." There were fraught memories associated with that place - patients dying, Sören's mental health deteriorating - but he'd gone for long walks a few times each week, to take peace in the landscape; he could still clearly see the fjord in his mind's eye when he thought about it. He gave a little wistful sigh. "I started painting when I was out there. I gave it up after what happened with Einar, but I got inspired again living there."

"You sound like you miss it."

Sören nodded. "Yeah, sometimes I do." He briefly entertained the fantasy of living in Iceland again, with Nicholas and Anthony. He knew that was unrealistic, but it was still comforting.

"And you... worked at the hospital in Reykjavik after your internship, before you moved to London?" Nicholas cocked his head to one side, curious.

"I could have stayed there, but it would have been hard to specialize as a neurosurgeon, I was more general during my internship. But, that's not why I left." Sören gave a guilty grin. "To be honest I, ah, made the decision to leave the Strandir coast and go to Reykjavik, less with my brain and more with my dingdong. My prospects as a young, horny queer guy weren't good in a remote northwestern Icelandic fishing village."

"I see." Nicholas chuckled.

"Of course now that's a non-issue, I get all the cock I want." Sören glanced around at the penises on display in the museum. "And then some."

Nicholas's chuckle became a full-bodied laugh. "I would hope you're not so insatiable as to try to use everything on display here as a toy."

"No. Though, the elf specimen would be tempting if it was bigger." Sören frowned at the supposed elf penis sample, which looked more like a small, curved stone. "I would have expected an elf dingdong to be a lot bigger than that. Like, at least as big as yours, if not -"

Nicholas went from pink to beetroot - they weren't alone in the museum and now a couple of people were looking at them rather than the penises on display. "Sören." Nicholas laughed harder.

They made three more rounds through the museum, as there was a lot to see. Sören continued to take the occasional photo, especially when Nicholas stood next to the preserved penis of a sperm whale, which was actually taller than he was by a couple of feet. Sören howled with laughter, and immediately texted the photo to Anthony. A few minutes later, as they were looking at the display of silver casts of the Icelandic handball team who won the silver medal at the 2008 Beijing Olympics, Anthony replied with a YouTube link to "Call Me Al" by Paul Simon, where the video demonstrated the height difference between the six-four Chevy Chase and five-two Paul Simon. Sören snickered.

When they'd seen enough of the preserved penises, they went to the gift shop and Sören bought penis-themed memorabilia for Anthony, and a couple souvenirs for himself, like a mug and a T-shirt. "Look, it's you!" Sören pointed to a set of oven mitts, green, with a Santa Claus face on the head of a pink penis, the balls done in red like a pair of boots.

Nicholas facepalmed, shaking with laughter. "Our kitchen doesn't need those."

"Yes, it does." Sören grabbed a pair.

After they checked out, Nicholas looked at his watch, out at the street, and then at Sören. "We have some time to kill before we need to drive out to the Blue Lagoon." They'd booked reservations with their vacation, since one needed to schedule ahead of time and it was recommended to book at least a few weeks in advance. "Is there anywhere else in town you haven't shown me yet, that we could see in the time frame we've got?"

Sören thought for a moment and then he had just the place in mind. "Yes."

Hallgrimskirkja was one of the most iconic locations in Iceland, and while Sören felt like a cheesy tourist in his own home country, he nonetheless thought the church was an impressive piece of architecture and it was considered strange for anyone visiting Iceland to not have seen it. As they got out of their rental car in the parking lot, Sören observed the phallic shape of the church tower rising above its wings and snickered.

"What?" Nicholas raised an eyebrow.

"I've taken you from one dingdong place to another."

It took Nicholas a few seconds and then he realized what Sören was talking about and stopped in his tracks, blinking as he did a double-take. "Er." Then Nicholas heaved with laughter and took Sören's arm. "Incorrigible."

"Takk."

The surface of the church was coated in a cast of white granite, which made it look more natural than a building usually did, and Sören had to go there again. "It's rock hard."

Nicholas chuckled. "You're worse than incorrigible."

"Actually..." Sören gestured imperiously. "There was a quote I heard about the church that stands out in my head... 'music turned to stone'. I agree with that. It's almost like this place sings. Like the hill it's on sings, with the song, the memory, of those who went before and are still with us." Indeed, Sören felt a frisson through him as he spoke those words. In his mind's eye he saw himself finding the stone at Reynisfjara, then saw a flash of silver-grey eyes, heard a faint echoing tenor and chime of harp strings, the music pausing for just a second like it had felt him find the stone and saw him. OK, crazy shit. Sören shoved that out of his head, thinking the vision was just his imagination running away with him; he was an artist and his mind tended to go weird places when he felt the urge to paint things, but this was somehow different. He made himself focus on the here and now.

They paused at the statue of Leifur Eiríksson. "Strange that it's called Hallgri-" Nicholas cleared his throat and attempted the correct pronunciation. "HALL-creams-keerk-ya."

"Not bad," Sören said.

"And that's a statue of Leif Erikson and not Hallgrim." Nicholas furrowed his brow, and gave Sören a curious look. "Do you even know who Hallgrim was?"

"He wrote a bunch of hymns in the 17th century which are still a big deal in the country during Lent." Sören shrugged. "I didn't go to church a whole lot as a kid, I vaguely remember hearing it on the radio."

"So... this church was named for him, but he didn't build it. I would have assumed Hallgrim was its designer."

"No, that was Guðjón Samúelsson. I know about this because there was a bit of public outcry when the church was built, people thought it was a waste of money, flash forward seventy years and people love it now. We learned about that in history class, I remember being quizzed on it." Sören's face burned as he made the confession, "And peed my pants because I had anxiety. I fucking hated school."

Nicholas gave him a hug. "It's all the more remarkable that you went through the rigors of pursuing medicine, then."

"Well, I was determined. It was the sacrifice I was willing to make to be able to save lives. Didn't mean I loved it, it was just the shit I had to wade through to get where I needed to go." Sören returned the hug, comforted by Nicholas's strong arms around him, soothing old shame.

Nicholas tousled Sören's curls. "You're a good boy," Nicholas said, then lowered his voice and said, "Daddy's good boy."

That sent a shiver down Sören's spine. Sören grabbed Nicholas by the hem of his shirt, making Nicholas chuckle at his vehemence. "Come on, you, before I get tempted to do something to you that I really shouldn't do in front of a church," Sören teased.

"Good, but naughty."

Sören gave him a look - he didn't need to walk in the church with an obvious erection. Nicholas smiled demurely and put an arm around Sören's waist. As they walked to the church entrance, Nicholas quickly looked around to make sure there was nobody following close behind and then his hand slid down to quickly grope Sören's ass before it moved back up. Sören's face was on fire; Nicholas was usually such a gentleman, and Sören loved those rare moments when Nicholas stopped being a gentleman and flirted and teased. Sören giggled, feeling giddy and flustered and a bit horny.

The stained glass panels were the distraction he needed. Sören paused a long time at each one, from in the doors to the nave and in the pulpit and baptismal font, admiring the rich jewel tones and the way the light played with the glass texture so a single panel of glass took on many subtle shades of that color. He especially loved the baptismal font, with a base of Icelandic basalt and a bowl of Czech lead crystal; the crystal sparkled with rainbows. Even as Sören didn't approve of religion, the inside of the church was just as much a work of art as the outside. Sören found himself aching to make sculptures like that, of rock and crystal - it wasn't the first time glass art had given him that wistful longing - and he mused aloud to Nicholas, "Sometimes, I wish I had more time to explore other forms of art, like making pottery or... glass blowing. Glass art is so beautiful."

"I imagine you would be very good at blowing. Glass." Nicholas gave him a wicked smile.

Sören's face burned again. He elbowed Nicholas but couldn't help grinning. It was taking Sören every ounce of his restraint not to drag Nicholas to a pew and suck him off right there.

There was a lift to the top of the tower, and though Sören got claustrophobic in elevators, he was willing to brave it with Nicholas at his side, telling himself the view would be worth it. There were other people in the lift with them - mostly tourists - and Sören felt a surge of anxiety not just at how much smaller the lift felt with a crowd, but also knowing his discomfort was showing, and knowing he was getting some glances, a grown man reduced to a scared child. A quarter of the way up, Nicholas pulled Sören close and held him tight, petting him, and Sören was surprised by the public display of affection, knowing Nicholas had been closeted most of his life, growing up in an era when homosexuality was frowned upon by most of society. He was touched by how much Nicholas was willing to fight all those years of conditioning and repression to give him comfort now, and Sören felt his tension easing just a little in the safety of his lover's arms.

When they reached the top, seventy four and a half meters in the air (two-hundred forty-four feet), the euphoria at the gorgeous view washed away the lingering panic. "Holy fuck," Sören yelled.

"Have you never been up here?" Nicholas raised an eyebrow.

"With Anthony." Sören looked back out the window. "I couldn't make myself take the lift on my own."

"Yes, understandable." Nicholas put an arm around him again. "I'm glad you're getting to see this. This is... remarkable."

It was a sunny winter day, with clear blue skies that seemed to go on forever. Underneath the blue sky they could see all of Reykjavik, picturesque in its blanket of snow, like a Christmas village inside a snowglobe. They could see the surrounding mountains, and the ocean that stretched west, blocks of ice floating in the sea. Sören took it all in. "I feel like a bird," he said. He gave Nicholas a squeeze. "You helped me fly."

Nicholas kissed Sören's cheek. "You are a phoenix, rising from the ashes of your past."

Sören got choked up at that, and rested his head on Nicholas's shoulder, not wanting to make a scene by crying.

When they had their fill of the view, they took the lift down and went for one last walk through the church, including visiting the famous pipe organ, which stood fifteen meters (fifty feet) tall, with seventy-two stops and five thousand two hundred and seventy-five pipes. "That's an impressive organ," Sören said, and then attempted a wink at Nicholas to emphasize the double entendre.

Nicholas coughed.

Sören relayed a somewhat useless bit of trivia. "Björk once performed here! I know that sounds obvious, since this church has seen so many concerts and she's played all over the country, but no, one of her songs was played on this organ as she sang with a choir, it was televised for New Year's Eve at the turn of the millennium."

"I know who Björk is," Nicholas said, nodding.

"I would hope so. She's our most famous export." Sören smiled. "She's actually my third cousin."

"Is she really."

Sören nodded solemnly. "We've never met - I've met a couple of famous Icelanders, including our former Prime Minister, Jóhanna, but yes, I'm distantly related to Björk. Which isn't saying much, the entire country is, like, distantly related."

Nicholas laughed.

Sören was a bit reluctant to leave - he didn't like churches as a rule, but this one was peaceful and the stained glass enchanted him once more on their way out. The words music turned to stone thrummed in his head again as they walked to their rental car. Song turned to glass, his mind added, once again thinking of the stone he'd found last summer. Music turned to stone, song turned to glass. He remembered the dreams he'd had of the forge, making the set of three stones just like the one he'd found... filling them with the light of his love, the fire of his soul, like a living love song.

Anthony wasn't just catsitting, he was also watching the stone. Sören didn't want to bring it to Iceland and take a risk of it getting lost, and he trusted Anthony with it. Since he and Anthony had shared dreams of "before", including that he used to make things in a forge, Sören had thought more than once of asking Anthony if he'd also dreamed of the stone. Something told him Anthony had, but they were both dancing around the issue because finding the stone meant those dreams weren't just dreams, and that opened up a whole can of worms that Sören had a feeling weren't worms, were entire fucking world serpents, and he didn't need his reality to be blown apart anymore than it already had been.

But on the trip to the Blue Lagoon, Sören found himself thinking about the stone again - born of his love for Nicholas and Anthony in the "before" time, and he started wondering if Nicholas ever had "those dreams" the way Anthony did. He felt a twinge of guilt - when he and Nicholas finally had the talk about the stone, and why Sören was so insistent upon keeping it, Sören had only shared his flashback of Einar. And that wasn't a lie - that was indeed a large part of why Sören was tenacious about one of the few things in the world he allowed himself to own, after a rather spartan existence. But it wasn't the whole truth. Sören didn't know how to say I dreamt I made the stone, and then it washed up the day I coincidentally happened to be visiting Reynisfjara with one of the people who inspired its creation, without sounding like he was completely insane or at least lying to himself, like people wanted to believe they were Cleopatra in a past life. He knew that Nicholas had perhaps an even stronger aversion to spiritual matters than he did, since Nicholas had once been a Catholic priest and his falling out hadn't just been with the Church but a strong critique of the very nature of God or anything supernatural. Sören didn't know how Nicholas would react to Sören telling him about the dreams, and especially the dream of the stone, and even as a part of him felt like he was lying by omission - when he'd emphasized radical honesty with his partners as part of his polyamory practice - and that didn't sit well with him, the month and a half without Nicholas had emphasized to him how much he needed his nesting partner and he was loath to lose that again.

Even so, it felt like the stone was burning at him from across an ocean, and he wondered if Nicholas's discomfort with the stone before conceding he could keep it was because he sensed power. Not a source of green energy or a new periodic element... but actual power of some sort. That felt ridiculous, Sören hated this train of thought, and yet he couldn't shake it.

"Are you all right?" Nicholas glanced over with a concerned look.

"Jæja." Sören shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Just getting antsy." That wasn't entirely a lie - it would be nice to go for a dip in the hot water, as much as he thought the Blue Lagoon was a bit of a tourist trap. That hadn't stopped him from coming here once a month when he worked at the hospital in Reykjavik, a treat to himself for surviving another month of crazy hours. Now his idea of treating himself was a nap. Jesus, I got old. Sören was only thirty-two, but his schedule made him feel a lot of the time like it had accelerated his age.

The parking lot was a few hundred meters away from the lagoon entrance, and the way to the entrance involved crossing a lava field. This not only ensured there would be no loud vehicle noises to disturb the peace of the lagoon, but just walking across the lava field itself was a meditation exercise. Sören and Nicholas walked hand in hand, and after a moment Nicholas remarked, "This feels quite symbolic."

"Are you trying to say I'm like a volcano?" Sören nudged him with a grin. "I'll be erupting later."

Nicholas rolled his eyes, laughing. "There you go again." Nicholas gave Sören's ass a playful swat, then he took Sören's hand once more and said, "Actually, what I meant is..." He gestured. "Love is a long road, and for us we hit a rocky path, born in fire. But... we're still here. And now we have a moment of peace awaiting us. I hope it will last."

Sören's eyes misted. He paused and gave Nicholas a fierce, tight hug. "Me too." He kissed the tip of Nicholas's nose. "I love you so much."

Nicholas stroked Sören's cheek, his eyes soft. "I love you too, sweetheart." He leaned in and whispered, "Daddy's special boy." He gave Sören's ass another swat, and with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he led Sören by the hand for the rest of the path.

On a chilly afternoon in February, there wasn't an extremely long queue. They were each given a plastic bracelet, a towel, and a free silica mask. The Premium package also included a free drink, a dining reservation for the Lava Restaurant on-site, and wine with dinner. Sören had warned Nicholas ahead of time that any public hot spring space in Iceland required naked showering first, so Nicholas knew what to expect, but he was still a little shy about it, which Sören found strangely endearing.

"You're so cute when you're bashful," Sören said, pinching his cheek under the spray. "But really, it's fine. Nobody cares. And you're fucking hot, anyway."

Nicholas blushed.

The lagoon provided conditioner with the showers; Sören applied a copious amount to his hair and then rubbed some into Nicholas's chest hair. "Wha-what are you doing?" Nicholas chuckled.

"Gotta protect that fur."

At the incredulous look Nicholas gave him, Sören explained, "The last time I came here - mind you, that was years ago..." Sören didn't take Anthony last summer because the site was somewhat difficult to access with a cane, and Anthony hadn't wanted to use a wheelchair for this; Sören's last visit to the Blue Lagoon had been sometime in 2009. "My hair got completely fucking trashed for a week, all the stuff in the water - the chloride and natron, the calcium and magnesium, all the stuff that makes it good for your skin makes it really fucking bad for your hair, especially curly hair like mine. Even with using conditioner, even with putting it up."

"I see."

Sören went an extra step and when they were done, after they put on their swim trunks, he not only put his hair up in a man bun, but put a shower cap over it. Then he applied the white silica mud mask to his face. Nicholas tried very hard to conceal his amusement at the sight of Sören in the shower cap and mud mask, and failed. Sören laughed too. "It's OK, I know I look fucking ridiculous, but I'm not here to be glamorous, I'm here to relax."

Nicholas booped Sören's nose. "I find you delectable even when you look like... what do you call it. A dork."

Sören grinned, feeling trollish. "Translation: we just found your new fetish."

Nicholas turned beetroot and he glared, but the scowl quickly dissolved into laughter. "Brat."

The milky-blue water - naturally that color from the algae - looked inviting, and it was like stepping into a warm bath. Sören sighed deeply. "Oh, that's nice," he purred.

The deepest part of the lagoon was a little less than five feet, which wasn't terribly deep for Sören at six feet and Nicholas at six-five. No one used floats and the lagoon wasn't designed for swimming; most people waded and slowly walked around. That was what they did, making their way very slowly, mostly just resting, leaning on each other, cuddling together, just being. All sense of time and space seemed to melt away, in the soothing warm water. Sören curled his toes and made happy noises, feeling more deeply relaxed than he had in a very long time.

"Now this is a vacation," Sören said.

While Sören still thought the Nature Baths at Mývatn was a superior location, he couldn't deny that he was enjoying himself. He enjoyed it even more as the late afternoon washed everything with gold, and then the sun began to set in a dramatic blaze of orange and fuchsia. As the sky lit up, Sören and Nicholas went under the manmade waterfall and stole a kiss. They continued to soak as they watched the rich colors fade to a more subtle, soft lavender sky with peach, and the mists of the lagoon took on a haunted quality. Sören loved it; sunrises and sunsets never failed to captivate him, no two were ever alike, but especially today a sunset had rarely been more beautiful.

If the walk across the lava field - wild and peaceful all at once - was how Nicholas felt about Sören, it seemed to Sören that the fire in the sky expressed how he felt about Nicholas. He had too many big, loud, messy feelings - he often felt like he failed at properly articulating how much he loved the man he nested with - but his heart burned like the sun. Losing Nicholas had been like that sun imploding, going supernova. Now that they were here together again, Sören felt rebalanced, and moments like this he felt like he could explode from joy. If the church was music turned to stone, it seemed to Sören the rock that was the entire world was singing, and he hoped Nicholas could feel that emanating from him, somehow.

 

---

 

 

Sören and Nicholas were both in an amorous mood by the time they returned to their hotel room. Clothes were quickly removed, though Nicholas was still fastidious enough to fold everything neatly and put it in the laundry pile, which made Sören giggle. When Nicholas was done with his fit of tidiness, he marched over to Sören. "Now, where were we?" He grabbed Sören and pushed him onto the bed, before climbing over him and giving him a deep, fierce kiss that made Sören moan and buck against him.

Kiss after kiss sent fire through Sören's veins, fevered and desperate as their hard cocks rubbed together, as their hands played over each other's bodies. Nicholas began to kiss down Sören's neck and Sören whimpered and dug his nails in Nicholas's back. "Daddy... fuck me..."

Nicholas chuckled. He gave Sören's neck a little nibble and then he picked his head up, nuzzled Sören and looked him in the eye; a shiver went down Sören's spine at the teasing look in Nicholas's eyes. "I want to spoil you, darling."

"You can spoil me by shoving that big cock inside me."

Nicholas laughed harder. He booped Sören's nose. Then he got up and walked to the bathroom. Sören pouted and whined, feeling like he was in heat for it, knowing Nicholas was prolonging this deliberately to get even more worked up. Sören heard the sound of the sink, then the toilet, and the sink ran some more, and at last Nicholas came out with one of the complimentary bottles of almond oil they'd found with other toiletries in their hotel room. "If you roll onto your stomach, I'd like to give you a massage," Nicholas said.

As badly as Sören wanted sex, he wasn't going to turn down one of Nicholas's massages - Nicholas had a gift. Sören lay on his stomach and Nicholas poured oil over Sören's back and began to work it in - just the feel of Nicholas's hands sliding up and down his back threatened to bring him off. And then, it was magic time. Nicholas rubbed and kneaded, working Sören's shoulders and arms, his back, his ass, his thighs and calves and feet, the pressure and rhythm relaxing and arousing Sören all at once. Sören flexed his fingers and toes and made purring noises, melting - after the deep relaxation of the lagoon this took him even deeper. He felt like he was floating on a cloud of light; it felt like Nicholas's hands were made of light, thrumming with power.

"I love you," Nicholas said softly. "I want to take care of my good boy."

"Oh, Daddy. I love you too. And mmmmm, you're definitely taking good care of me right now."

Nicholas's hands made the journey up from Sören's feet, continuing to roll and knead up Sören's calves and thighs and ass and back and shoulders and arms. Sören felt like his entire body was singing. When he rolled onto his back, Nicholas poured oil over Sören's stomach and chest, looking at him with lust in his eyes. Nicholas leaned down to give Sören a tender, sensual kiss before his hands got started. This time his touch was slower, more deliberate - caressing, stroking, petting. Sören broke out into gooseflesh, nipples and cock hardening. Nicholas leaned down to teasingly lick a drop of precum from the head of Sören's cock then leaned up and resumed sliding his hands up and down Sören's body one area at a time. Sören heard himself panting, and his eyes met Nicholas's and he gave a little urgent whine.

Nicholas chuckled and leaned back down to kiss him, continuing to run his hands over Sören's body. When his oil-slick hand wrapped around Sören's cock, stroking slowly, Sören cried out into the kiss and pulled back, gasping, "Daddy, please..."

Nicholas chuckled and patted him. "You may be a good boy, but you're also a little brat, and brats like you shan't get what they want right away. Besides... don't you want to take care of your daddy, too?"

"I do." Sören gave Nicholas a hungry look. As badly as Sören wanted to fuck and come, the thought of Nicholas's body glistening with oil drove him out of his mind with lust. Sören pounced on him, shoving Nicholas onto his back with a growl as he claimed his lover's mouth. Nicholas laughed into the kiss and swatted Sören's ass. Then Sören grabbed Nicholas and roughly rolled him onto his stomach. Nicholas laughed harder.

"My," Nicholas said. "Someone's enthusiastic."

"I wonder who."

Sören poured the oil over Nicholas's back. After he spread out the oil and thoroughly coated his hands, they slid up to Nicholas's shoulders. Sören went back and forth between firm kneading and slow, sensual caressing, his cock hardening at the sound of Nicholas breathing harder and moaning. Sören couldn't resist teasing him a bit, letting his fingers walk down Nicholas's spine as the other hand rubbed in lazy circles, and then his fingers brushed down Nicholas's spine, making Nicholas shiver and groan.

"Like that, Daddy?"

"Yes."

Sören rubbed and caressed Nicholas's back up and down, letting his hard cock play in the crack of Nicholas's ass. Then he moved down and cupped Nicholas's firm, taut ass - a marvel at his age - and squeezed it, kneaded it, before a lighter, slower touch. His fingers whispered over Nicholas's thighs, rubbed harder, and stroked gently again, with Sören smiling at the gooseflesh, cock throbbing at Nicholas's moans and sighs. Sören kneaded Nicholas's calves, and couldn't resist wanting to lick the silver fur. His tongue licked up and down each calf, played at the sensitive spot behind each knee, and then he kissed and nibbled the backs of Nicholas's thighs, making Nicholas moan louder, grinding into the mattress. Sören nibbled on Nicholas's ass cheeks, tempted to lick the passage but not just yet. He kissed and caressed his way up Nicholas's back, and then his tongue brushed down Nicholas's spine the way his fingers had. Nicholas let out a long, deep grunt, fists gripping the pillows, and he involuntarily thrust his hips back, an invitation for more. Sören's cock jolted. As he leaned in he smelled soap and realized Nicholas had been cleaning up during his bathroom break... and that meant Nicholas was probably looking to bottom. Nicholas hadn't bottomed yet since they'd reconciled - it had been at least since early December since the last time, and that meant he was going to need preparation. Preparation Sören was happy to provide.

Now his tongue lashed at Nicholas's opening, making Nicholas gasp and moan. Sören couldn't help stroking himself as his tongue lapped away and he listened to Nicholas's panting, groaning. Sören wanted his lover wrecked, every last shred of dignity gone as Nicholas lost control and completely gave himself over to passion. Sören's tongue rubbed harder, fucking him, then slowed down to tease, which served to tease them both, as Sören was going out of his mind with lust. "I think I know how Daddy wants to be taken care of," Sören husked.

"Mmmmm. Which is taking care of you, as well."

"That's very thoughtful, Daddy." Sören spat and licked harder, and Nicholas shuddered, giving a growl that almost set Sören off. Sören moaned and let go of his cock, not wanting to come too soon.

Sören licked at Nicholas's passage for a little while longer, until Sören's balls felt ready to explode and Nicholas was starting to rock his hips, fucking himself on Sören's tongue, driving Sören even crazier with lust. Sören rose up and Nicholas gingerly rolled onto his back, giving Sören an expectant look.

Sören poured oil over Nicholas's chest, and proceeded to worship his body, hands stroking slowly. The sight of Nicholas glistening - especially his chest hair - was even more delicious than Sören's fantasy and Sören couldn't help stroking himself just a little more, wanting Nicholas to see how much he turned him on. "You're so hot, Daddy."

"And you are a beautiful boy." Nicholas ran a finger down Sören's shaft. "With a beautiful cock."

"Would you like this inside you, Daddy?"

"Indeed I would."

Sören grinned. "Too fucking bad." He leaned down and kissed Nicholas, and kissed his way down Nicholas's throat, to lick the chest hair, grooming the fur with his tongue. "I want to enjoy you first."

"Teasing brat."

"Mmmmmhmmmmm."

Sören kissed a nipple, lapped it, and kissed and licked the other. He went back and forth between Nicholas's nipples, licking and sucking one as his thumb rubbed the other, cock throbbing at the sight of the delicious swollen nubs, the way they felt in his mouth, the way it made Nicholas groan and clutch at Sören's head. When Sören had his fill, he kissed Nicholas's mouth again, and then Nicholas grabbed Sören, pulled him up, and lavished the same love on Sören's nipples, tongue swirling around and around one, lashing it, sucking it hard, then the other, strumming and pinching one as his mouth pleasured the other. Sören rubbed his cock against Nicholas's thigh, moaning, overwhelmed with sensation.

They kissed again, and then Sören slid down and finished what he'd started, kissing and licking Nicholas's stomach as he rubbed it in circles, kissing, nibbling one thigh as his hand stroked the other. Sören lingered over Nicholas's cock, breathing in the clean masculine scent of him, before he sucked slowly, their eyes locked, Sören having to stroke himself again because he was too turned on. Nicholas started moaning again, louder as Sören pulled the cock out and ran his tongue up and down, watching his reactions.

Sören couldn't take it anymore. He parted Nicholas's thighs and Nicholas bent his knees. "You want it?" Sören rasped.

"Yes, darling. Take me."

Sören guided the tip of his cock to Nicholas's opening. Nicholas took slow, deep breaths and pushed out as Sören pushed in, helping it along. At last they were one, and they sighed together. Sören put his hand on Nicholas's heart. "I love you, Daddy."

Nicholas took Sören's hand and kissed it, eyes soft. "I love you, sweetheart."

Sören thrust slowly - as much as for Nicholas's adjustment as to keep himself from coming right away. Sören hissed through clenched teeth at the hot silken vise grip of his lover's passage, and heard himself let out a deep groan at the way the muscles rippled around him. "Oh god. Fuck."

A few thrusts later Nicholas gasped and it was his turn to let out a deep, guttural moan, before he sighed "Sören. Oh, love..."

"Mmmm, good?"

"Yes." Nicholas gave a shuddery gasp. "That bead in the ring..."

"Mmmmhmmm. That's why I got it, elskan."

It wasn't long before Sören needed to move faster inside him, encouraged by Nicholas's moans, knowing the bead in his piercing was hitting that spot over and over again. Soon Sören was rocking harder, both of them panting, Sören trying to resist the urge to pound him, not wanting to hurt him, but at last Nicholas dug his nails into Sören's hips and moaned, "Fuck me..." and Sören growled and let him have it, one of Nicholas's legs on his shoulders, slamming away fast and furious, lost by lust, and the delicious feel of Nicholas's passage stroking him, gripping just right. When Nicholas started touching himself it was all Sören could do not to come right then. Sören growled again, balls slapping Nicholas's ass. Nicholas moaned and worked himself harder, faster. "Almost there, love," Nicholas panted.

"Oh, fuck." The thought of Nicholas coming all over him made Sören want to come too. Sören let out a feral, frustrated noise, pounding, plowing, needing this as bad as he'd ever needed anything. The sight of Nicholas in ecstasy, getting more and more lost in pleasure...

Those last few minutes felt like an eternity, both of them on that edge, trying to hold back just a little longer to keep that delicious fuck going, to keep feeling each other. And then Nicholas let go with a cry, his seed painting Sören's chest, then his own. The sight of Nicholas coming, the feel of the hot seed on his skin, and Nicholas contracting, pulsing around him, sent Sören flying, throwing his head back and crying out as he spent deep inside his beloved.

Sören sank down into Nicholas's chest and Nicholas wrapped his arms and legs around Sören, holding Sören with all of him. "I love you," Nicholas whispered as their hearts pounded together, the bliss washing over them like a tide. "I love you, darling. I love you. I love you..."

"I love you so much." Sören's eyes teared up. "God, I fucking love you..."

They kissed, and Sören snuggled into Nicholas's chest, breathing him in as the world spun and stopped and everything was just feeling and fire, melting into light. Just before Sören could doze, his phone went off.

Sören was tempted to ignore it but Anthony had said he'd text every day to let them know Tobias was OK and Sören knew Nicholas tended to fret over Tobias like that was his own child. Sören reached for his cell phone and sure enough it was a text from Anthony, with an adorable picture attached of Tobias and Miss Balls tucked into a blanket together. Sören showed Nicholas.

"Ohhhh." Nicholas smiled.

Sören smiled too. That was worth answering. He fired off a reply. Awww, thank you. They look so sweet!

Then a minute later, Anthony sent a text with another picture. This was of George - Sören's name for the barrister wig - with the aluminum pineapple Anthony had given Sören as a gag gift a couple of years ago, that Sören affixed googly eyes to. George and Ananas were cuddling and Sören saw the tip of the stone, like it was snuggling in George's curls, and still produced some light, albeit subdued, for being mostly obscured; Sören imagined Anthony had to hide most of the stone to be able to get a picture at all, with how bright it was.

Sören howled at the picture, loving it. He also couldn't resist the urge to troll. Kinky.

Anthony replied: OMG, Sören, you would say that.

Sören had to. "Oh... Rocky!"

Sören was still laughing a minute later and Nicholas gave him an amused look. "I do love it when you laugh," Nicholas said.

Sören smiled.

Nicholas patted him. "I'm also glad you're not holding a grudge against Anthony for his intervention."

Sören sighed. "No. I..." Sören put down the phone and rubbed his face; while Sören had been hoping to bask in the deep radiant peace of the afterglow, he supposed they ought to have this conversation. "I wanted to be pissed off at him, since that did necessitate planning behind my back and after our past history he knows I have fucking issues about that. But it's not a usual pattern of behavior for him, and it was under a very special, very specific, very dire circumstance. It was very unselfish of him, he could have had me to himself if we hadn't reconciled."

"That was indeed a generous move, not to claim the victor's spoils. Anthony is a very good friend." Nicholas's face turned pink and he quickly added, "A very dear friend." But his eyes were shining, and when Nicholas looked away he bit his lower lip, like an involuntary reflex.

Sören raised an eyebrow. He'd wondered if Anthony was attracted to Nicholas... and now with the emotional floodgates opened post-orgasm, Nicholas's iron reserve had relaxed just slightly and Sören had a nagging feeling Nicholas felt the same way. He decided to risk potential awkwardness and charge ahead. "Nick."

Nicholas looked back at Sören, and shifted uncomfortably, as if he realized Sören had just noticed.

"Nick." Sören cocked his head to one side. "You have the hots for Anthony, don't you?"

Nicholas sighed. He closed his eyes, facepalmed, and Sören worried he'd overstepped his bounds, but then Nicholas took his hand away from his face, met Sören's eyes, and nodded slowly.

"I've not said anything about it, I'm sure he thinks of me as just a friend, probably thinks I'm too old -"

"Nick. Oh my god, Nick, no. You..." Sören laughed, feeling a surge of excitement, reining in the impulse to do a happy dance around the room. "When Anthony was in his early twenties, he had an older male lover, in his fifties. He's admitted to me he likes silver fox guys. During our first go-round I joked about having a threesome and stopped because it rubbed him the wrong way at the time, but now..." Sören gave Nicholas an encouraging nudge. "You should tell him, when we get back. Seriously."

"Sören, as you know, just because a man fancies a certain type of look, doesn't mean they fancy everyone who fits that description. He and I have been friends for awhile now, and as you said yourself, you and he have had threesomes, which means he's open to that, yet he has not shown any indicator of being interested in me -"

"Maybe because he's shy too?"

"What if you're wrong, and it makes things awkward? I don't want to ruin my friendship with him, nor strain his relationship with you."

Sören sighed. He thought about telling Nicholas that he'd heard Anthony masturbate several times, like he'd been listening to them having sex, but that felt both too personal and also something Nicholas would probably argue with.

Then Nicholas changed the subject altogether. "We should enjoy ourselves while we're here, I don't want to stress myself out thinking of Anthony rejecting me. You mentioned earlier today you miss the Strandir coast where you used to live but weather conditions aren't friendly to traveling there at this time of year. Is there anyplace else you miss that is possible to get to?"

Sören didn't have to think long at all. "Akureyri. My hometown." Sören exhaled. "I haven't been back since I left in 2003, because my aunt and uncle are there. But it's been, like... fourteen years. There are flights every day, it's an hour flight from Reykjavik. I will say though that it's the sort of thing where I wouldn't want to spend just a few hours there. I'd want to spend a couple days there but we already booked this hotel room..."

"I'd be happy to lose two nights on this if you truly want to go to Akureyri. I think it would be good for you to see your hometown again, might be... therapeutic."

"Yeah, might be some necessary closure." Sören nodded. "OK, if you insist."

"I do." Nicholas gave him a little kiss. "Let Daddy take you home, sweetheart. Daddy will protect you."

Sören smiled and snuggled up to Nicholas again. "Well played," he muttered. Don't think you're off the hook about Anthony, old man.