Sören stepped into the foyer of Elaine's house cautiously. He still wasn't thrilled with the lecture Elaine had given them after the wake, but it had been one misstep in many years of kindness and warmth and Sören didn't want bad blood between them. He held out the bouquet he'd brought as a peace offering - sunflowers mixed with daisies and soft pink roses. Elaine's face lit up with a genuine smile and she took the bouquet and then pulled Sören close and squeezed him.
"Thank you," she said.
Sören kissed her cheek. Then she pinched Sören's cheek and Sören laughed, face on fire.
"I'll put these in water," Elaine said, gesturing for them to follow. "Dinner's ready..."
"Would you like me to serve?" Nicholas asked. He sniffed the air. "It smells delightful."
"I can do it, but I won't complain if you'd like to lend a hand," Elaine said, nodding. "It's a chicken and rice casserole, nothing fancy, but it's been one of my son's comfort foods since childhood so I thought it was appropriate for today."
"Aww, Mum." Anthony gave his mother a tight hug. She tousled his hair.
As Elaine put the flowers in a vase with water and a bit of Sprite, Nicholas loaded the casserole onto plates and brought them to the table. When he opened the fridge to check beverages, he smiled at the glass dessert dishes full of thick cream and strawberries, which also caught Sören's eye; Sören gave an excited little clap and then felt ridiculous, like an overgrown child, even though he'd reacted like this in front of his partners many times before and they found it endearing.
"And since I knew you were coming," Elaine said, tugging on Sören's sleeve as she made her way to the table, "I made strawberry fool for dessert. I know you love strawberries."
"Why is it called fool?" Sören narrowed his eyes; after seven years in England he still found the British utterly baffling at times. "Well, I suppose it's better than calling yet another thing pudding."
Anthony had just taken a sip of Sprite and he almost ended up wearing it. He rubbed Sören's back and patted it. "Don't change, Sören."
"It's from the French word fouler," Elaine explained, "which means to press or crush... and the dessert involves crushed fruit folded into thick cream."
"Ah, I see." Sören nodded. "So it's another instance of English robbing French."
Nicholas snorted, and raised his glass.
"Sören comes from the country that's so against loanwords they call a phone a sími, which means 'long thread'," Anthony said. "Not that I disapprove... I majored in linguistics and I find that sort of thing fascinating."
"So tell me, Mr. Linguist, why do the English call everything pudding?" Sören raised an eyebrow.
"Because we want to confound you." Anthony gave a cheeky grin before he took a bite of his dinner.
Sören kicked him under the table. Anthony kicked Sören back and then his brogue slid up Sören's ankle and calf. Sören thought about groping him under the table in return but decided to behave himself, knowing if they got too frisky he'd get hard and things were already somewhat awkward with Elaine without sporting a hard-on in front of her.
Elaine cleared her throat, and tapped her glass with a spoon. Then she said, "To Roger, on his birthday. He gave me a beautiful son and many lovely memories. He would want us to celebrate his life on his birthday, and not be sad, and I don't think I'm capable of that, as I will always miss him, but nonetheless... he had a good life, and though he may have gone too soon, he died in his garden doing what he loved, and very few people do that. So... a toast, to a full and happy life."
They clinked glasses, and then Anthony said, "To my father," before he drank.
Elaine took a sip of her ice water, then she adjusted her posture, and Sören knew the speech-making wasn't over yet. He braced himself, hoping it wasn't going to be another lecture about what happened at the wake with Alistair.
But instead Elaine said, "Anthony, I want to apologize to you for getting on your case about how you and Sören responded to your cousin."
Anthony put his glass down, looking surprised. He sat back in his chair, steepled his hands, and waited, putting his poker face back on.
Elaine went on, "I still think that slapping him was excessive..." She gave Sören a look. "But I also understand emotions were running high - Anthony had just lost his father, that was affecting you as well, Sören, and I can't expect everyone to do everything perfectly, especially not in a situation like this where Alistair was completely out of line. Any time for what he said to you would be inappropriate but especially at your own father's funeral, that felt like kicking you while you were down. I want you to know that I have spoken to Grant and I've told him now that Roger is dead, neither you nor I have any further obligation to him or his children, and to refrain from interacting, and pass on the message to them as well - we'll be the ones to initiate contact with him if that changes."
Anthony nodded.
"And as far as what I said about... responding to hatred with anger..." Elaine sighed. "As the kids on Tumblr say, I need to 'check my privilege'."
Sören tried not to laugh; something about someone Elaine's age using phrases like that tickled him. Anthony's eyebrows went up and his lips quirked slightly, then he doubled down on neutral body language.
"You are absolutely right that keeping calm and not getting angry has pushed the civil rights movement along at a snail's pace, and talk of 'unity' has allowed bad people, like Donald Trump, to take power. I don't think we should be hitting everyone who mouths off, but I haven't dealt with homophobia quite the same as you have. Biphobia yes, to a point, as a straight-passing person, though now there is less incentive to pass for straight so I too may start dealing with homophobia myself." Elaine sighed. "Anyway, please forgive me for what I said on Sunday."
"I hope you'll forgive me for losing my temper at dinner and..." Anthony looked down, frowning. "What I did with the dinner you made. I am completely ashamed of myself."
"You had an autistic meltdown," Elaine said.
"That's still not an excuse."
Elaine shrugged. "Maybe next time count to ten. But Anthony, I know you're not normally like that - actually, I've never seen you behave like that... and I know grief does things to people. And it's bad enough for people who don't have autism. I imagine it's even more stressful for you."
Anthony exhaled. "I still feel bad. I know I hurt your feelings, and I'm sorry."
Elaine gestured. "Come here."
Anthony got up, and gave his mother a hug. Then Sören rose from the table and hugged them both, relieved and grateful that Elaine got it about as well as she was going to.
When Anthony and Sören sat down, they resumed eating, and Elaine said, "I have one more announcement to make."
Sören's heart sank. He hoped it wasn't going to be bad news - Anthony had about all he could take right now.
"Anthony, do you recall after the end of your first year at Cambridge, when you came home for the summer and you got very depressed because your friend Mark had stopped talking to you?" Elaine cocked her head to one side.
Anthony nodded slowly. "I'm... surprised you remember that."
"And he was a bit more than just a friend, wasn't he?"
Anthony nodded again. "You knew."
"I had a feeling, but I didn't want to say anything. There is somewhere I'm going with this - so after the... breakup with Mark, I guess, you decided to take your uncle Nigel's advice and go see the world, and you spent three years in Europe."
"Yes." Anthony's eyebrows shot up. "Wait... so, you're... going to travel for a bit?"
"That, and I'm selling the house." Elaine sat back in her seat and swirled the ice water around in her glass. "This place feels haunted. It's... it hurts too much to be here. Especially looking out and seeing the garden, which had so much of Roger."
Anthony's mouth opened. Sören was pretty shocked too, since he knew Elaine had done a pretty serious renovation of the house when Anthony was small, almost like she'd built it herself. For Elaine to leave behind her magnum opus, was pretty serious. And Sören understood that kind of grief - it was why he'd decided to leave Iceland in 2010, after his sister was murdered and he was raped. It was a bit of a shock to hear Elaine say she was going to abandon the house, but also not entirely surprising.
Anthony's eyes were too bright. He took a moment to gather his words, and then he said, "Of course, you have to do what you have to do for your mental health, and I don't think seeing the world is a bad idea. But..." Anthony looked out the dining room window, which had a view of the walled garden. "I hate the thought of someone else taking over Dad's garden, or worse, letting it die, building over it..."
"I hate it too. Understand I'm not making this decision lightly -"
"No, I know."
"And I wanted to give you enough advance warning so you can take anything out of your room that you still want. Even though it's on a different floor now it's otherwise the same as it was and I imagine that means things are of sentimental value -"
Anthony tried not to break. Nicholas put an arm around him, and Sören took Anthony's free hand under the table.
"Oh, sweetheart." Now Elaine's eyes were full of tears. "I'm sorry. I know this is upsetting, to have your world change so much in so little time -"
"I'll... I'll be OK. Like I said, you do what you have to do. Just... the garden..." And like that, Anthony started to cry, silent tears rolling down his cheeks, shaking with silent sobs.
Nicholas finally chimed in, trying to be reassuring. "As you know, I have a rooftop garden -"
"And you've barely enough room for everything there, never mind trying to get everything... dug up... and... and... transferred..." The sobs were less silent now. Anthony covered his mouth with his hand, his jaw trembling, and he took some deep breaths, trying to pull himself together. Sören's heart broke for him all over again - now his own eyes were burning with tears, aching for Anthony, wishing there was something he could do.
"And it still wouldn't be the same. Even if you could get everything dug up and successfully planted on the rooftop, it's... a different place," Sören said.
Anthony nodded.
Nicholas sighed. His eyes met Sören's, and for a brief instant Sören thought about the recurring dreams he had of living in another body, another land - he wondered once again if Nicholas ever had those dreams as well, like Anthony did. This situation was a bit different - "the land before" had been a bit of a gilded cage, with its oppressive laws and customs, they had all been miserable; they were much more free to be themselves now - but there was still that twinge of loss. Sören wouldn't want to go back, but that didn't mean there wasn't a very vague feeling of homesickness... which made him feel insane, because they were just dreams.
Like the stone was just a dream, until it wasn't.
Sören found himself thinking about the stone, concentrating on it, and not understanding why, as it seemed to have nothing to do with the conversation they were having. But then its light seemed to illuminate his mind and point the way to connections dangling, to be tied together. If Sören had made the stone "before", the set of three stones had been his greatest work, and some of that creative fire still burned here and now - Sören was increasingly resentful that he hadn't had the energy to make art in months. Gardening was a form of artistic expression for Anthony, perhaps not on the same level as Sören's painting, but Anthony still felt passionately about it. It wasn't just the impending loss of connection to one of the most tangible reminders of his father, like a part of his father was in the soil out there, but it was also like having to abandon a project considering how much of Anthony had also gone into the garden. That didn't sit right with Sören - though he supported Elaine's decision to travel and leave the house behind; he certainly didn't fault her for feeling choked by her grief and needing to go - and now Sören felt the burn of an idea but not for a new painting... rather, a solution to the present trouble.
"What if we took the house?" Sören asked. "I mean, if you need the money from selling it to fund your travel -"
"I don't," Elaine said. "I have a rather sizeable inheritance from my parents."
Of course you do. Sören didn't say that aloud. Once again, he felt very weird about the kind of money Anthony came from, but Anthony wasn't snotty in the way his former friends had been. Sören sat up straighter, like he was negotiating with a patient about treatment. "We could take the house, and that way Anthony won't lose the garden..." Then he realized he'd just made a decision for all three of them and hadn't even asked. He facepalmed, cheeks on fire. "I'm an asshole, sorry." He peeked out at Anthony and Nicholas, who were both giving him that oh, you look. "If you guys don't want to move from our flat in Covent Garden, we don't have to..."
Anthony and Nicholas looked at each other. Then Anthony said, "I don't hate our flat, but I won't lie, this would probably be the best possible option. But..." He looked at Nicholas again.
"I must say that I did not anticipate having to move again in my lifetime, until I retired," Nicholas said. "As you know, I am rather attached to my flat, I have been there for quite some time, I put a lot of work into how things are arranged..."
Shit. Sören looked down.
Nicholas continued, "But... I have a family now. I am more attached to the two of you than I am to the flat. My things can be moved. If continuing to maintain his father's garden would be helpful to Anthony, I am for that. And... this is a lovely house. There is, indeed, much we could do with it."
"Yeah." Anthony nodded. "All your plants from the rooftop garden and inside the flat could be moved. You'd have a bigger garden space, and you could get even more indoor plants."
"I like that idea quite a bit." Nicholas smiled.
Sören breathed a sigh of relief - he really hadn't wanted to argue with Nicholas later, though he hoped he wouldn't get a lecture about just making a decision without asking first. Fucking ADHD lack of impulse control. Sören chugged his drink. Most of the time he could forget he had it - his profession was one where "hunter" types thrived - but moments like this hammered home that he wasn't normal, either.
"We'd have more space for a lot of things." Anthony looked right at Sören. "Sören, you could have a studio, a room dedicated completely to your art. Hell... you know how you've talked about wanting to take up pottery? Or maybe go into glassmaking someday? We have enough room on the property to build a kiln. We could possibly even turn one of the downstairs rooms into a forge..." Then it was Anthony's turn to look sheepish, like he was making decisions without consulting anyone else. He gave his mother an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Mum. I know you worked so hard on redesigning this place and here I am talking about changing it -"
Elaine chuckled and waved her hand dismissively. "It's one of the ways you're my son. It's strangely comforting. And I approve of giving Sören his own spaces to make his art. You do such wonderful work, Sören."
"Takk." Sören tried not to add a salty statement to the end of that about not having enough time or energy to make art anymore, feeling like his job was sucking the life out of him. Being a neurosurgeon was his dream, but it was starting to eclipse his visions, and that was increasingly taking more of a toll on him. Since things were stressful enough with Roger being dead and Elaine going away for awhile and now, their impending move, Sören figured nobody needed to hear his negativity. He wanted something harder than the Sprite he was drinking, and he didn't drink alcohol terribly often.
"Well..." Nicholas looked at Sören, then at Anthony, then at Elaine. "If we're serious about this, we need to get plans in place for moving. And I assume, Elaine, that with the way this place feels to you, that you would want to leave sooner rather than later."
"Correct. I was planning on putting this house on the market at the end of the month, and leaving for France, letting an agent handle the rest."
"If we tell our landlord, we would need to be out within the first week of August, so that gives us a little less than a month to move."
"I can offer an extra pair of hands, and/or hire a moving company," Elaine said.
"I would say and rather than or," Nicholas said, frowning a little. "There are some possessions I'd prefer to move myself, or only have moved by those I know and trust."
Sören nodded, thinking of the stone. That was small enough to ride in his pocket, but he didn't want it to go missing or misplaced in all of the chaos.
"I'm also willing to help draw up plans for any renovations you might want to make," Elaine said.
"Thank you very much. We may not make them all at once - as you know, it will be difficult enough to get what we have over here and settle in - but when it comes time, should Sören want a forge, we will take you up on that."
I'd like to forge myself some fucking time off. Sören didn't say that aloud either. He chewed his ice. Even though this had started as his idea, he was now starting to see this move was effectively going to eat his free time for the rest of the month - so if he'd hoped on maybe getting enough mental bandwidth to make art this month, that was gone. But... this had started as his idea, and he didn't hate it. It would be for the best, overall, it was just going to be quite a haul from here to there.
Elaine got up, putting a hand on Sören's arm. "Whisky?" She looked at Anthony. "Cognac?"
Sören wasn't a big fan of spirits like whisky or cognac - when he drank he preferred the fruity mixed drinks, or if it had to be something with bite, then one could "go big or go home" with his homeland's Brennivín - but he just nodded. "Takk." They had come here in a cab and were going back in one.
Sören's eyes met Nicholas's. Nicholas took Sören's hand and kissed it, as if to assure him both that everything would work out with the move over this month, and that he wasn't going to give him a hard time about speaking before asking when they got back. Sören tried to smile. This did feel like an important new chapter of their lives - moving forward as a triad, into a deeper commitment, owning a home together. But Sören was so exhausted from his job, and the fallout of Roger's death, that it felt anticlimactic.
And then, seeing Anthony's smile, the way it lit up his face, green eyes sparkling... that made all the difference. Sören smiled back, really and truly. Anthony's light definitely was part of that fire inside him.
Later, as they were in bed for the night and not quite asleep but on their way there, Anthony mused aloud, "You know what else we'll have space for in the house? More cats."
Sören laughed. He liked that idea; he loved cats. "We should get a pair of two kittens."
"Two kittens?" Nicholas turned to look at Sören, in the glow of the nightlight.
"Siblings from a litter. I mean yes, we should adopt adult cats from a shelter too, that need a good home, but... I really want a kitten, and it's better to take siblings if possible." Sören bit his lower lip.
"I agree." Anthony nodded solemnly. "It is our duty to England and the Queen, to adopt two kittens."
"Fuck the Queen," Sören said.
"No, thank you," Nicholas muttered.
Sören found Nicholas's candor hilarious - Nicholas had a couple shots of whiskey and it was showing. Sören kissed his cheek, and Nicholas skritched Sören's beard.
As if they had been summoned, Seumas chased Miss Balls into the room, and Tobias came over from where he'd been lounging on a chair. The cats settled onto the bed, purring, and got pettings. Then Anthony pet Sören like he was a cat, and Sören meowed - the whiskey had mellowed him, too.
"I'd like more cats," Sören said, more seriously. "It doesn't look like I'm ever gonna have kids, but I can have furkids. I should have, like, seven of them."
Anthony cackled. "Seven cats?"
"Jæja. We'd have the space for it."
"As you know, that is rather a lot of cleaning up we'd have to do," Nicholas said.
"Hmm, yeah, and we'd have to put catboxes on each floor, since they'd roam all over the house." Sören stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Still though. We should get more cats."
"I'm sure the ones we have now will enjoy having more space to run around, and more windows to perch in," Nicholas said.
"Speaking of more space..." Anthony took a deep breath. "If it's all the same to you, I'd like our master bedroom to be on the ground floor, so I don't have to climb a flight of stairs when I'm tired. I was thinking that we could turn the dining room into our bedroom, and the guest room I'd been using over there, as the dining room, since it's just the three of us, and if we do entertaining we can use the living room."
"All right," Nicholas said.
"Sounds good," Sören nodded.
"As far as the upstairs rooms, Sören, you could use one as your studio, and Nicholas, you could have your own library. And a study." Anthony snickered. "I was thinking we could set up a dungeon in one of the rooms."
Sören had a gigglefit - that tickled him. Then he nodded enthusiastically. "Ooh, yes."
"A... dungeon?" Nicholas sounded confused.
"For BDSM purposes. Like a spanking horse, or a St. Andrew's cross for heavier play. When I eventually learn how to tie a suspension rig, a space for that." Anthony rubbed Sören's back. "God, I can't believe I'm talking about this."
"I can." Sören closed his eyes and his mind's eye replayed memories of the times Anthony had dominated him, how utterly exhilarating it had been. If Sören wasn't so tired the memories would have gotten him aroused. The idea of he and Anthony getting to scene on a more regular basis thrilled him - even more thrilling was the prospect of Nicholas joining them, dominating Sören together with Anthony.
"Intriguing," Nicholas said, with a look on his face that suggested he was thinking about it too, and enjoying the idea.
Sören nuzzled him, a frisson going down his spine. Then reality came crashing back down and Sören made a noise as he realized one of the downsides of the move. "It won't be quite as convenient to get to and from work, as it is living in Covent Garden. It's not an impossible journey, it's not a pain in the ass like going to and from Kingston..."
"Right," Anthony said.
"I was thinking that myself," Nicholas said. "I might get a car, to get to and from the campus in Bloomsbury. As you know, I've no problem taking the bus, but it seems like it would be less of a hassle."
"And it would be more convenient for things like grocery shopping," Sören said.
"For a lot of things. Like trips to Brighton - Mum's giving us the Brighton house, too." Anthony sighed. "God, this feels surreal."
"It does, doesn't it?" Sören reached for his hand under the covers.
"I never thought I'd be living in Blackheath again," Nicholas said. "It's like coming full circle."
"Same," Anthony said. He yawned, then Seumas walked on him to start headbutting his face. Anthony chuckled and skritched the cat. "What do you think, little guy? You want a bigger house?"
"Nya," Seumas said.
The next day when Sören got back from work, Anthony was on his laptop with an intense look of concentration on his face. Sören sat next to Anthony on the couch, and he usually didn't pry at whatever Anthony was doing online, but after Tobias climbed on Sören for pettings, a few strokes and a kitty headbutt later the screen caught the corner of Sören's eye, and Sören had a gigglefit at the words on the header. "Dungeon Beds?"
"Hmmm, yeah. Here, you can look at these with me." Anthony scrolled back down and Sören saw a selection of beds. "They're specially designed for bondage play and as you can see, the canopy frames are designed for suspension. Suspending you over a bed could be... very interesting."
Sören thought of how Anthony had teased him and edged him while he was tied up and helpless. The thought of being suspended over a bed, hanging in the air while Anthony sucked his cock... Sören shuddered, cock stirring in his pants.
"That does sound very interesting indeed," Nicholas said from the kitchen. He brought over tea and paused to take a look at the selection of beds. Then he raised an eyebrow and made a noise.
"What, do you disapprove of the design?" Anthony asked.
"No, I rather like the designs. They're... elegant. No, I'm looking at the price tag, and I assume this is an American company and we'd have to pay for international shipping?"
"I'll admit that it's a lot - a few thousand pounds before shipping, which will probably be astronomical for heavy parts - but I'm willing to pay for it," Anthony said.
"Or perhaps..." Nicholas sat down and steepled his hands. "Once we're settled in, we could design and put together a bed ourselves, or perhaps hire someone local to build a bed design from sturdy material."
"Your mum could probably help," Sören said to Anthony.
Anthony put down his laptop, shaking with laughter. "That's a great conversation to have with one's parents. 'Hey Mum, can you help me build this special bed so I can tie up my boyfriend?'"
"You don't have to tell her what it's for. You could say you want X number of slats on the headboard and such-and-such with a canopy design, made from very sturdy material, and made to look pretty-like, and she wouldn't necessarily know what it's for." Sören shrugged. "It's a thought."
"I'm inclined to agree," Nicholas said. "She has experience with design."
"I know she can put together furniture, too," Anthony said. "It just... feels weird. I'll get over it, though, if it'll save us some trouble. It would be about three to four months for the thing to be constructed and shipped if we bought it from this site, anyway. I won't know how to tie a suspension rig before then but we can still break it in doing other things." He gave Sören a pointed look.
The rest of July passed quickly, and by August fifth, they were finally all moved out of the flat in Covent Garden and into the house in Blackheath; Elaine was leaving for Paris on the ninth, and staying in a hotel for the next few days, and they invited Elaine for dinner on the night of Sunday the sixth. The dinner was a bit emotional, as Anthony knew he wouldn't be seeing his mother for awhile, and it was a turning point for all of them. After Elaine left, Anthony stepped out in the garden for awhile, and at first Sören gave him his space, but finally he decided to go check on him, and sure enough, Anthony was sitting on the bench, crying a little.
Sören sat down next to him, hugged him, and started rocking him. "It's OK."
Anthony nodded. "I don't want you to get the impression that I'm upset about living here -"
"I don't."
"It's just..." Anthony made a vague hand gesture. "It's a lot."
"I know." Sören pet his hair. "And even without all of the emotional baggage it's been a disruption to your routines and habits." Sören knew that was difficult for autistic people; he had some difficulty with it himself and his ADHD.
"Yeah. Hopefully things will get back to normal now. I want to feel happy about this. It's a big, huge step, the three of us living here. I want this to be our home, our life. I just didn't want it like this, with my father gone. I still miss him."
"Of course you do."
"And with my mother going away for awhile. I get it that she needs to leave, I don't blame her. But I'll miss her too, especially with my father gone. I..." Anthony closed his eyes and sniffled, tears spilling down his cheeks.
Sören's arms tightened around him. For a moment Anthony just cried it out on Sören's shoulder, then Anthony sighed, rubbed his face and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself. "I need to get out of my head for a bit," Anthony said.
"Well..." Sören thought for a moment. Then it came to him - something visceral, something cleansing. "We could break in the new bed."
Anthony's face lit up. "You're terrible, you know."
"Takk."
The dungeon room on the second floor still wasn't complete - they needed a spanking horse, and a St. Andrew's cross, and had discussed candelabra for wax play - but the bed was there in all its glory. It was a four-post canopy bed with hooks on the canopy for eventual suspension rigging or a sling; at the head of the bed was a set of fifteen squares, three rows of five, for tying restraints, and at the foot of the bed there was a bottom row of five squares, also for restraints. The bed was in a black matte finish, and they'd chosen black bedding, giving it a dramatic, somewhat ominous look. It was in direct contrast to the bed in the new master bedroom downstairs - Sören had asked to decorate the bedroom and there was a throw with panda bears to go with the waterfall and bonsai trees.
Sören got undressed as Anthony got out the rope. He used white rope to contrast with the black frame and sheets. Anthony tied a series of elegant knots to bind Sören's chest, then Sören lay on his back on the bed, Anthony slipped a pillow under Sören's hips, and built more knots from the chest harness to tie one of Sören's arms to the bed, then the other, both around the two posts and through four of the squares at the headboard. Then Anthony spread Sören's legs, bending the knee, and wove restraints around Sören's legs, tied to the other two posts and through two of the squares at the foot of the bed. Every so often Anthony paused to touch Sören and ask if he was still OK, if he liked what was happening. The gentle caresses and the care to his own pleasure, Anthony's breath against his skin, a kiss here and there, got Sören even more worked up, intensifying the pleasure of submitting, surrendering, bound and trusting.
When Sören was all tied, and indicated he was still good, Anthony added the finishing touch - the vibrating buttplug. He put it in Sören, turned it on, and then went downstairs to get Nicholas. After Anthony had been gone for a couple of minutes, the buttplug vibrated harder, Anthony using the remote control from downstairs to put it on its next highest setting. As Sören heard Nicholas and Anthony's muffled conversation downstairs, less muffled as they approached the stairwell, Anthony turned the vibration back down, then back up, then back down, driving him crazy, continuing to play with the speed as they ascended the stairs - Sören had a feeling Anthony had given the remote to Nicholas, since Anthony needed to use both hands with the railing and his cane.
His suspicion was confirmed when Nicholas strolled in, with the remote in his hand. "My, my," Nicholas said, giving Sören a wolfish look that sent a shiver through him, Sören's cock hardening even more, starting to flow precum.
"Isn't he beautiful?" Anthony asked, his voice husky.
"Indeed." Nicholas smiled, heat in his eyes as he took in the sight of Sören. Sören's cock throbbed, wanting. "And the work you do is beautiful. Those are lovely knots."
Anthony took a small bow, then put an arm around Nicholas and said, "Consider this my housewarming gift to you, for being such a good sport about moving from someplace you've lived for many years."
Nicholas kissed Anthony's cheek. "A gift wrapped so nicely." His hand grazed down Anthony's chest and slid back up, thumb brushing a nipple through the fabric of Anthony's T-shirt. "I'd like to unwrap this gift, as well."
Anthony grinned, and came closer - Nicholas took Anthony's chin in his hand and kissed him deeply. Then they began undressing each other, Anthony leaning against one of the bedposts so he could use both his hands. Sören's breath hitched, cock pulsing, hole twitching at the deliciousness of watching his partners take off each other's clothes, hands caressing the exposed flesh, kissing and licking each other's necks and chests. Anthony's tongue brushing one of Nicholas's nipples almost undid Sören right then. Sören let out a helpless whimper. Nicholas chuckled and turned the vibe up higher.
Once Nicholas and Anthony were completely naked, they held each other and kissed, hard cocks rubbing together. Sören whined again, and Anthony turned his face to give Sören a smug little smirk before kissing Nicholas.
Nicholas and Anthony made their way to the bed, climbing on either side of Sören. "What do we have here," Nicholas said, fingers walking down Sören's chest, brushing a nipple, sliding down to his navel.
"I don't know. I think it warrants a thorough investigation," Anthony said, giving Nicholas a naughty look.
With that, they took turns kissing him, and then took their sweet time licking Sören all over, fingers playing over his body, as the vibe purred away inside him. Sören's entire body thrilled to their teasing, pushing him closer and closer to the edge but keeping away the release. Sören heard himself let out frantic, broken little cries, almost ashamed of how needy he sounded. Anthony and Nicholas responded with deep groans of their own, enjoying his body, every now and again kissing each other before they got back to work running their tongues and fingers over Sören's flesh. Sören's nipples were aching nubs, and he would have love bites on his stomach and hips from where they were most aggressive. He loved it - as badly as he needed to come, he basked in their love, their hunger, their fire.
Anthony began to suck Sören's cock, tormentingly slow, as Nicholas came up and kissed Sören again and again, playing with Sören's nipples - the chest harness made his nipples more sensitive, almost too sensitive, Sören whimpering into each kiss, quivering. After awhile Anthony took out the plug and began to eat Sören out, tongue slow at first, then fucking away, hard and fast, as Nicholas sucked hard at Sören's nipples, making them even more swollen. Sören started to beg. "Please." He gasped for breath, feeling like he was going to burn up into ash at how hot they were making him. "Please, oh god, please, fuck me, please. Please."
Anthony nibbled on Sören's thigh before his tongue dipped back inside. Nicholas traced Sören's lips with his thumb before kissing him, and rasped, "Should such a naughty boy get what he wants right away?"
Sören just whimpered, his eyes pleading at Nicholas.
Nicholas gave an exaggerated sigh, then he patted Anthony, who stopped licking. Anthony spat in Sören's passage - that was so lewd, so deliciously crass, that Sören let out another begging howl, aching so fiercely. Then Anthony took a few licks at the precum flowing down Sören's shaft, and kissed Nicholas with it. "Since this is your housewarming present, you can do the honors," Anthony said.
Nicholas readied them both, then climbed on top of Sören and pushed inside. Both of them cried out when Sören was stretched to the hilt. Nicholas rested in him for a moment, looking into Sören's eyes adoringly, touching Sören's face. "I love you, sweetheart," Nicholas husked.
"I love you, Daddy." Sören smiled.
They kissed deeply, and Nicholas began to thrust, slowly. So slowly, teasing them both. Anthony watched, sitting in a chair by the bed, lazily stroking himself. The sight of Anthony touching himself made Sören even needier, and when Nicholas kissed him again Sören whimpered into the kiss.
Nicholas kept it slow at first, for what felt like an eternity. Sören desperately needed to come, but there was something so beautiful about this, bound to him, Nicholas responding with such tenderness. "Daddy's special boy," Nicholas whispered, raining kisses over Sören's face, rubbing noses. "Daddy's good boy."
Sören gasped, cock jolting, loving that.
Nicholas reached down to play with Sören's cock, slow and gentle. His hips rolled like the tide; this felt as right as nature itself. Sören gave himself, gave and gave and gave, deeper and deeper into surrender, love, an act of worship with his entire body, all that he was. At last Nicholas began to claim his mouth, and as each kiss deepened, heated, Nicholas thrust faster, until he was finally giving Sören the hard fucking he craved, hand working Sören's cock furiously.
"Do you like that, sweet boy?" Nicholas kissed and nibbled Sören's neck.
"Yes, Daddy. Oh god, Daddy, more, please, more, more..."
Nicholas growled - when Sören begged for more it was his sexual kryptonite - and Sören knew that. Sören continued panting "more, Daddy, more, more, please, more, Daddy, more, more..." until he couldn't make words at all, only little gasps, reaching that place of no return. They looked into each other's eyes and then Anthony's precum-slick fingers were in Sören's mouth and Sören screamed around his fingers, coming hard, completely overwhelmed by lust. The heat in Anthony's gaze made Sören shoot off again, and finally Nicholas came with a deep groan. A moment later Anthony moaned as he came, aiming for Sören's face. Sören laughed, delighted, and again as Nicholas licked him clean and shared Anthony's seed with him in a kiss.
"Wow." Sören felt like bells were ringing in his head. The entire room seemed to glow. "Holy. Fucking. Shit. Wow. I love this bed."
Anthony chuckled. He cut the ropes. Sören's muscles were sore, and his skin was chafed from the rope. Anthony got out a soothing gel made of aloe and arnica and began to tenderly rub Sören down, as Nicholas pet him. "That's a good boy," Nicholas husked.
"A very good boy." Anthony kissed the tip of Sören's nose and their eyes met. "You are so beautiful."
Sören grinned. He felt high. He was sore, but he felt damn good. Anthony's eyes shone, and Sören knew that for at least a little while he'd given Anthony some relief too - some semblance of control; Sören knew that losing his father, and now with his mother going away for awhile, Anthony had a similar "thrown to the wolves" feeling that he'd had in the months following the accident, so Sören was happy to give him back some power.
For his part, Sören felt more alive than he had in weeks. After he put on pajamas and headed to the second floor bathroom to clean up, he stopped in the room that had been designated his studio, across the hall from the dungeon - the studio didn't feel as bitter when he was like this, feeling high on life, the hope resurrected that maybe he could start creating again when he had more time. He looked at his Wacom tablet that he hadn't used in months, and the canvases and oil paints he hadn't used in years.
The decor in the studio was deliberately spartan, to keep Sören from getting too distracted when he worked, but there was a cat tree by the window, and a framed print of Van Gogh's Starry Night on the wall next to the window. On the opposite wall was a shelf ledge, a handsome cherry wood, where Sören had put the Fabergé egg that had been a gift from Anthony's grandmother... and inside the egg, Sören kept the stone he found in Iceland. The stone he'd dreamt of making.
He opened the egg now and found himself looking at the stone, which lit up the room like a lamp, refracting rainbows like a diamond. He took out the stone and let it sit in his cupped hands, warm but not too hot - and pulsing. He jumped and almost dropped the stone when he heard footsteps in the door, then caught his breath, looking at Anthony.
"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," Anthony said.
"It's OK. Come in."
Anthony hobbled in on his cane and stood beside Sören for a moment, admiring the stone with him.
"I'll never forget when you found it," Anthony husked, putting an arm around him. "It was like witnessing a miracle."
Sören decided then, after not saying anything for close to a year, afraid of a negative reaction, that he was finally going to tell Anthony an additional reason why he'd doubled down on keeping the stone when Nicholas had pressured him to give it up to science. "Anthony... I dreamt about this stone before I found it. I know that sounds utterly fucking daft, but -"
Anthony exhaled.
Oh shit, here we go. Time for Arguing About The Stone 2: Electric Boogaloo, this version starring Anthony Hewlett-Johnson. Sören braced himself.
"There were three of them," Anthony said. "You made them because of us."
Sören's jaw dropped. His hair stood on end. That was not the reaction he was expecting, and while it was a relief that it wasn't a negative reaction questioning his sanity... it also opened the proverbial can of worms. There was no way to be able to dismiss this as just dreams anymore.
Anthony turned his head, and Sören also turned his, and their eyes met. Sören's mouth was still hanging open and he closed it, and simply nodded. He felt like once again, his sense of reality had been blown to bits... but this time harder than the others. It was one thing for them to share dreams of being in another body and recall similar circumstances and events. This was something else altogether.
"It's real, isn't it." Sören started shaking. "But... but what is it. When is it. Where is it." Sören peered across the hall just to make sure Nicholas had gone downstairs - he still wasn't ready for this discussion with Nicholas, after what had happened earlier this year. "Does he remember."
Anthony shrugged. "I don't know. I feel like it's probably best we wait till things calm down some before we... try to look into it. I don't even know how we would, to be honest." Anthony scratched his head, giving himself a little cowlick. Then he took Sören's hand. "But... if it's real, and we found our way back to each other... that gives me some comfort, that we'll be all right, somehow."
Until those fuckheads that ripped us apart the first time come back for us. That thought gave Sören a sick feeling. He pushed it aside and squeezed Anthony's hand. "Yeah," he said, trying to smile. He placed the stone back in the egg. "Jæja."
chapter 12 | return to Learning To Fly | return to Other Tolkien Fic | return to index