art by SemperViridis
Sören might have been too drunk to care about making an ass of himself the last time he saw Magni, but as he waited on the curb outside his apartment complex and watched the Jaguar roll down his street, his heart started pounding, face on fire, as it all came back to him. Faceplanting on the sidewalk, so Magni had to pick him up and carry him inside. Then before he left, Magni had asked Sören if he could get him anything, and Sören had responded with, "Yeah, your cock." Of course, Magni hadn't gone there.
I'm a fucking idiot.
Sören swallowed hard as the Jaguar pulled over. He walked up to it, stomach doing flipflops, and got in the car. It was a miracle Magni even wanted to see him again. "Hej," Sören said as he climbed in the passenger's seat.
"Hi, Sören. How are you?"
Sören gave a nervous little laugh. "Very sorry about being a drunken mess last time -"
Magni smiled and waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. I've seen worse. I've been worse."
Sören smiled back, but he still felt ill at ease as they pulled out, and once Magni resumed driving Sören kept glancing over, as if he could somehow tell whether or not Magni was genuinely nonplussed by what had happened. After a few glances Magni looked back at him, raised an eyebrow, and said, "It's fine, Sören. Really. I would tell you if it wasn't. I can be rather vocal in my opinions."
Sören gave another nervous laugh. He decided to give Magni the benefit of the doubt that he was telling the truth, and leaned back in his seat. Magni pulled in to a chip shop and Sören waited in the car, trying not to watch Magni's ass as he walked across the parking lot.
When Magni returned, Sören continued glancing over at him, but this time more discretely - and out of appreciation rather than anxiety. It was an overcast day, only 14 C (58 F) and Magni was wearing a red, black and white flannel shirt over a white T-shirt and faded jeans, his black hair hanging loose down his shoulders. Even dressed down Magni looked good, like a rock star. Sören didn't find it too cold today, so he wore a grey T-shirt and indigo jeans. Magni noticed and remarked on it. "You don't need a jacket?"
Sören shook his head. "No, I run hot naturally. People I've slept with say I'm like a living furnace." Sören quickly added, "No one in awhile," and then his face burned, knowing he'd made that disclaimer to signal to Magni that he was indeed single. Unmated.
"Well, if you change your mind, I have a hoodie in the trunk."
Sören thought about asking for it just so he could breathe in Magni's scent, but he held off. It was bad enough hinting that he was available. Sören made himself look out the window so he wouldn't keep staring at Magni, who was making him fluttery and tongue-tied.
Tjörnin on a Saturday afternoon in June was busier than Sören would have liked, but not as busy as it could be on a clear day. Magni had brought birdseed and they spent some time feeding the swans - Magni looked a bit wistful as he did so.
"Are you all right?" Sören asked.
Magni nodded and smiled. "I'm fine. Swans just remind me of one of my uncles. He loved swans. Anyway, let's sit and eat."
They found a spot that was conveniently lakeside and still out of the path of locals and tourists, and Sören started to relax once they sat in the grass and shared out the fish and chips. After the meal was over, Magni took his black acoustic guitar and began playing scales.
Sören felt nervous at first, freezing up and not able to draw, scowling at the white sheet of paper, but then Magni began playing a set of tunes by Metallica and Sören began to see images in his mind's eye - as he often did when he listened to music, but this time it was stronger, clearer. Even on the acoustic guitar, there was such a ferocious intensity to Magni playing and singing Metallica that Sören envisioned Magni as a warrior, fearlessly leading the charge against demonic creatures, like something out of a fantasy novel or movie. To translate the vision from his mind to paper would take many hours, if not days - Sören put it on mental file for a future project - but for now he decided to just do a portrait of Magni, holding a sword, a predatory, fierce look on his face.
Magni continued to play Metallica and it was the perfect soundtrack for the sketch. Sören lost himself in the music and the vision, bringing it to life with his pencil and a stick of charcoal. He found himself getting slightly aroused as he drew Magni-the-warrior - Magni was hot, and something about him holding a sword and glaring even hotter. The intensity and heat of battle promised intensity and heat in the bedroom. Sören realized he was once again signaling his attraction, drawing Magni with an obvious phallic symbol, but he had come too far with the drawing to stop...
...and he felt compelled. Often, when he worked on a painting or a sketch, it felt like it took on a life of its own, demanding to be made manifest, like a living memory of something that had happened in another world or time, or the land using Sören as a voice to speak. Sören was agnostic but he still felt like making art was a magical act, most of all when he was making art to music - he could understand why ancient people felt power in a shaman's drum. Magni seemed like an ordinary guy with an extraordinary talent - Sören thought it was tragic Magni didn't have a record deal, the whole world needed to hear that voice and that skilled playing - but Sören felt like he was drawing a deeper truth. A portrait of his soul, Sören thought to himself, even though that felt utterly ridiculous, offending his irreligious sensibilities. Nonetheless, irrational or not, there it was. He was giving Magni a gift, honoring the beauty he saw in Magni's spirit, the truth of the power of Magni's song.
Time seemed to just stop, Sören completely overtaken by the vision of Magni the warrior, as Magni continued to play Metallica like he was fighting a battle with his guitar and his voice. A few passerby stopped now and again to listen, and watch Sören at work, but even though being watched would normally bother Sören it was almost as if the people didn't exist, nothing else existed except Magni and his song.
At last Magni took a break and the sketch was almost finished. "Almost" because to an outside observer it would look done, but Sören often made little adjustments to things for hours and sometimes even days after a project was completed, fine-tuning details that probably nobody other than him would notice or care about, but he still had to get things just so. Sören was looking at the sketch with a critical eye, trying to determine what else there was to do, but then he felt Magni staring at him and he looked up.
"Can I see it?" Magni asked.
Sören felt a bit self-conscious - it wasn't finished, to his way of thinking - but he felt like he would be rude if he didn't let Magni take a look, so he gestured for Magni to come closer. Magni got up and sat closer to Sören - close enough to make Sören tingle at the proximity, breathing in Magni's Alpha scent - and Magni spent a long moment inspecting the picture, while Sören's heart raced, barely able to breathe, stomach like ice, waiting for the verdict.
Magni's mouth opened, his eyes widened, and he looked almost haunted. Almost afraid.
That was when Sören felt like he'd been punched in the gut, worried that he'd offended Magni - maybe Magni was a pacifist, or maybe Magni thought Sören had done a horrible job of portraying him, even though Sören tried to make his sketches and paintings photorealistic. A touch of surrealism and fantasy, but otherwise true-to-life.
When Magni continued to not say anything, just staring at the sketch with a dumbfounded look on his face, Sören's anxiety got the better of him and he blurted out, "Oh god, you hate it, don't you, I'm sorry -"
Magni put a hand on Sören's arm before he could snatch away the sketch. "What? No." Magni shook his head vehemently and then he turned to look at Sören. "I don't hate it at all. That's..." Magni gestured to the sketch, looking like he was trying to make words, then gestured at Sören. "It's magnificent. You have a real gift, like a Renaissance master."
"Oh Jesus Christ." Sören gave a nervous giggle, face on fire; he almost let out a "meep" and put a hand over his mouth to stifle it. Now he was the one shaking his head. "You don't need to say that to make me feel better..."
"If I didn't like it I would be polite, but I wouldn't give you effusive praise like I'm giving you now." Magni looked back at the sketch and exhaled. "You do absolutely astounding work. How are you not famous?"
"I could say the same thing of you, with that voice, and those guitar chops."
Magni laughed. He put an arm around Sören; Sören's body tingled, cock waking up, thrilling to just that little touch. "Sören, I don't even know what to say, it feels like nothing I could say would do justice. If I tell you it's magnificent it still doesn't feel like enough."
"You're too kind."
"No, I'm not." Magni gave him a stern look. "Something tells me you sell yourself short."
Sören swallowed hard, thinking of the Alpha gallery owner he'd had a dalliance with, till it became apparent he was interested in Sören's arse more than his paintings and he considered that replaceable, Sören coming home to find another Omega in his bed. You're not as talented as you think you are, the Alpha had said... echoing back to when Sören's abusive alcoholic aunt and uncle, who raised him, repeatedly disparaged his work and Einar even destroyed his work in drunken rages, insulting him, hitting him, telling him to stop this "gay shit" and be "a real man". Sören looked down.
"Now I really do want to see more of your work," Magni said.
Sören pulled out his cell phone to check the time. It was already after four PM - they'd been here a few hours, longer than Sören had anticipated. Sören felt guilty, but he still had chores and errands to do today. "Not tonight," Sören said. "I don't get a lot of time off from work and I have to tidy up and do laundry and go grocery shopping -"
"I understand."
"But," Sören said quickly, not wanting Magni to feel rejected - cursing his schedule, because Magni's arm around him was electrifying his body and he desperately wanted to invite Magni over to look at more than just his paintings - "I have Wednesday evening free, and I don't have to go to work till Thursday afternoon, if you'd like to come over and look at my paintings?"
"I'd like that very much." Magni smiled.
Sören's heart started racing again, and then he felt another surge of anxiety. He was interested, but he also didn't want to seem easy or desperate, like he was deliberately setting a scene for seduction. He thought quickly. "You compose, já?"
Magni nodded. "I do."
"OK - so if I let you over my place to see my original work, then you have to play your original work for me. Bring your guitar." And that was an honest desire, it wasn't just trying to mask the hope of getting laid on Wednesday night. He was really and truly captivated by Magni's music and he wanted more.
"You've got a deal," Magni said.
Sören grinned back at him, elated. And also a little scared, like he was barreling down a freeway at top speed, about to take off and fly into space. You cannot fall in love with someone just from their music, get a fucking hold of yourself. But Sören knew he was already in over his head, and he just had to see where this would go.
art by SemperViridis
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