Sören tried not to obsess over the fact that they were going to share a single hotel room - with one bed, that they were going to share tonight - as Magni pulled the rental car out of the hotel parking lot. There was a lot to see and do in the three-day weekend, going back on Monday morning; the summer solstice, June 21, was on Sunday.
There was a lot of Magni to see, right next to him in the driver's seat. Sören tried not to stare, but he couldn't stop glancing over at Magni, finding him beautiful...
...wanting him. Aching for tonight. Aching to ask Magni to just drive back to the hotel and fuck him senseless. But Magni wanted to see Akureyri, with Sören as his guide.
Magni had never specifically said what part of Iceland he was from, and Sören wondered about it now, chewing his lower lip. He didn't want to pry, but he also felt like if they were going to sleep together, Sören ought to know more about him.
"So is this your first time in Akureyri, or...?" Sören cocked his head to one side. "Where are you from, again?"
"Húsavík," Magni said without hesitation.
"Oh, jæja? Do you know my second cousin, Sigrit Ericksdóttir? She sings. She wants to do Eurovision someday."
"Maybe? It's been a long time since I was in Húsavík."
"Did you want to go while we're up here? It's only an hour drive -"
Magni shook his head. "I'd rather not."
From the terse response, Sören had a feeling there were reasons why Magni had left Húsavík, and wasn't keen on returning. Sören wondered, but kept his questions to himself. He swallowed hard, worrying that he'd soured the trip right out the gate. But then Magni reached over and gave him a reassuring pat.
"Besides," Magni said, "this trip is for you, not me. Yes, I want to see things through your eyes... but mostly, I want you to have a few days where you're not obligated to work or do chores or errands and you can just honor your family's memory and... try to enjoy yourself." Magni smiled, and ruffled Sören's curls before he put his hand back on the wheel.
"OK." Sören breathed a small sigh of relief. "If you change your mind -"
"Again, Sören, this trip is for you." Magni raised an eyebrow. "You're not used to letting other people do things for you, are you?"
"No, because there's usually strings attached." Sören frowned.
"There's no strings here. Yes, I want you, but there's no obligation to do that as payment -"
Sören laughed so hard he snorted. "Magni, I'm tempted to tell you to pull over and get in the back seat and take your pants off. It's genuine attraction, not obligation."
Sören was delighted to see Magni turn ever so slightly pink. Magni gave a wicked grin. "Anyway, where to?"
Sören thought. While the major purpose of this trip was to visit his parents' graves, which he wanted to do today to appease his conscience for not going on his mother's birthday, he didn't want to start with that.
To lighten the mood from the tension surrounding the subject of Húsavík, their first stop was Jólahúsið, the Christmas House, open year-round. Sören loved the kitschiness of the bright red house with fake snow and fake candy canes on the roof. He made a purchase right away, buying them each tall conical "elf hats" - Sören's was red and Magni's was blue - which he insisted they wear as they browsed the two floors of decorations. Magni was already close to seven feet tall and the hat added an extra foot of height and every so often Sören had to pause, getting winded from looking at Magni and laughing hard. The exasperated look on Magni's face just made Sören laugh harder.
"You make a very bad elf," Sören teased.
Magni scowled, but his eyes crinkled at the corners. "I prefer the term naughty, thank you. I'm a naughty elf, get it right."
Sören laughed harder.
There were stained glass windows in the tower and Sören gave a wistful sigh, confessing to Magni, "I wish I knew how to blow glass. I'd love to make different kinds of art, not just painting, but glass and ceramics. Even blacksmithing."
Magni put an arm around Sören and said nothing.
There was a cave on the ground floor with an enormous statue of Grýla, the troll-woman who cooked naughty children in a stew, and after Sören bought several bags of candy they went to the cave. Then they toured the Christmas Garden in back, with its tiny replica of an Icelandic church, and a wishing well. Sören took out two pennies and handed one to Magni.
"Throw it and make a wish," Sören said.
Magni looked a bit hesitant, like he was reluctant to throw the coin, and Sören nudged him. Magni took a deep breath, tossed the coin, and then Sören did as well, wishing Whatever haunts you, Magni, I want to make you happy.
Once they got in the car, Sören tore into a bag of chocolate licorice and ate a piece. Magni chuckled. "It's not even noon yet."
"I'm an adult," Sören said through a mouthful of candy.
They went into town to get coffee and walk around a bit. Sören missed the brightly colored houses and shops - there was some of that in Reykjavik to be sure, but in Akureyri it felt more organic, the quirkiness of a small city. They visited the life-size statues of Grýla and Leppalúði, bigger even than Magni, and at the crosswalk with the famous heart sign, they stole a kiss. It was a quick kiss, since they were out in public, but it was enough to get Sören's slick flowing, wanting to shove Magni down on the concrete and ride him.
Of course, they went from there to Akureyrarkirkja, a non-subtle reminder to behave. As horny as Sören was, his artistic impulses kicked in, once again enthralled by stained glass, and the design of the building with its graduated basalt-finish columns, modeled after the rocks and mountains of Iceland. Sören enjoyed the replica of Thorvaldsen's angel at the baptismal font - it seemed to him Magni was lovely enough to be an angel, or something else not-human. Magni, a living work of art, looked like he belonged here, even dressed down as he was, with his tall, powerful build, his chiseled face, his intense eyes and flowing hair, like this was some sort of temple and he was the divine messenger who dwelled here, or even a god.
Jesus Christ, get a hold of yourself, Sören thought, getting chills as he watched Magni stride purposefully toward the 3200-pipe organ like he owned it. Visitors weren't supposed to just touch the organ, even though there were no church services right this moment, but now Magni was playing it, Toccata and Fugue in D minor by Bach, and the church staff didn't even stop him, their faces lit up with delight at Magni's masterful performance. Sören felt giddy, intoxicated even, utterly enthralled by the magic of Magni's music, and when it was finished Sören threw his arms around him, trying not to sob. He wasn't religious at all but he felt like he'd witnessed something sacred, all gooseflesh.
They decided after that to get lunch, but Sören really didn't want to sit in a crowded restaurant, which reminded him too much of his job. So they got two takeaway boxes of fish and chips, and took it to Kjarnaskógur for a picnic.
Kjarnaskógur was a forest south of Akureyri, with the first trees planted in 1952. They found a picnic site and ate quietly, in peace, just being in the presence of nature. When they were done, with their trash disposed of, they took a tour of the park, walking through the larch and birch slowly, so Sören could really get a good look, admiring the beauty, taking in every little detail - Sören didn't hate living in Reykjavik but he got homesick for the wild places of his hometown, especially the forest. He ached for trees, and as they made their way through the park hand-in-hand, Sören felt like a reset button was being hit in his brain, pieces of his soul pulled into alignment, the rich color of the evergreens nourishing him. "Sometimes when I'm upset," Sören confessed, "I lay down and I imagine a forest. My 'happy place'." Sören took a deep breath. "When I tried to kill myself a few years ago, I thought I am going to my forest."
Magni's mouth opened. Sören had already mentioned his suicide attempt, but this was a new detail, and Sören observed it seemed more shocking to Magni than the attempt itself. Maybe it feels more real now.
Sören shrugged, not wanting to dwell on that painful memory. He mused aloud, "If there were past lives, I probably had a cabin or a fortress in a forest like this. It feels like a piece of my soul is always there."
The grass was full of primrose and bluebell, which made Sören smile. "Bluebell is my favorite flower, next to fireflower roses," Sören informed Magni. "Blue is my favorite color."
Magni once again put an arm around him and said nothing, but this time he gave Sören a little squeeze.
At the upper end of the park was a camping site in the hills, with a breathtaking view of the Eyjafjörður fjord and the town of Akureyri. Sören's eyes misted as he looked out at the fjord - this he had been homesick for especially. He didn't want to cry, especially not in front of Magni, but he felt his jaw tremble, the tears starting to spill, and now Magni put both arms around him and kissed the top of his head.
"It's OK," Magni said.
"No, it's not. I hate being so fucking sensitive. My uncle gave me shit about it. So did the kids in school, they goaded me to get me to cry so they could make fun of me about it." Sören looked out at the fjord again, then into Magni's eyes.
"And yet, that sensitivity in you is why you can make the art that you do," Magni said softly. "You feel too much, and it demands to be expressed somehow."
"And times like this, I love too much," Sören said, looking back at the fjord, soul aching, though he meant Magni too - he knew he was already falling for this guy, and it terrified him, but he couldn't stop himself. "I suppose you could say beauty is my religion. It's why I paint, why I want to sculpt, make glass. I'm in love with the world and want to give back the joy, the light, it gives me. A gift for a gift, fire for fire." A frisson went through Sören, the most curious sense of deja vu, like he'd said these same exact words before, but he didn't know when or where. Maybe in a parallel universe, Sören thought to himself, but that seemed totally mad.
"Yes. That fire is your heart." Magni put a hand on Sören's heart, and Sören covered Magni's hand with his own. "It burns in you like a flame, sometimes it hurts, but it makes a lovely light."
Magni stroked Sören's face, eyes tender, and then he sat down in the grass, Sören sitting next to him - for awhile they just sat there, looking out at the fjord, leaning on each other. There was no need for words.
When Sören's body protested sitting on the ground, they got up to stretch, and headed back. On impulse, Sören took a detour at the children's playground - the swing sets were unoccupied, and Sören hopped on a swing, something he hadn't done in years. "Give me a push," Sören said.
Laughing, Magni came around behind him and gave him a shove. Sören sailed up, then back. "Push it real good," Sören said. Magni laughed harder, and then gave Sören a mighty push. Sören soared, throwing his head back and letting out a whoop. The swing rocked back and he went up again, so high it made him dizzy, but it felt good. Sören pumped his legs and sailed back and forth, back and forth. Magni gave him another push when he started to lose momentum, and Sören rocketed up again, giggling.
"You should try it," Sören said.
Magni pointed at himself and looked around, as if Sören could be talking to anyone else.
"Yeah, you. This set is sturdy, it'll hold your weight."
Sören got the sense Magni had never been on a swing set as an adult - most adults stopped doing stuff like that when they were teenagers. In many ways, Sören had never stopped being a kid. And while he didn't know Magni terribly well yet, he recognized the melancholy in him and thought it would be good for Magni to play.
Magni hesitated, but he got on the other swing, kicked the ground, and flew up, then back. Kicked again, leaned back, and went higher. Higher and higher, soaring up as Sören sailed back, then Sören rose up as Magni flew back. They had their rhythm, symmetry, laughing together, a moment of pure, unabashed silly joy.
When it was over, Magni gave Sören a hug. "Thank you for making me do that."
Sören squeezed him. I love you, he thought for the first time, but didn't dare say it aloud. Not yet. But he felt it. Oh, how he felt it. They felt right, together. Good for each other.
They had spent long enough in the forest that Sören decided it was a good idea to go to the florist now, and from there, his parents' graves. He bought two bouquets of white roses, and together he and Magni climbed the hill overlooking the famous Botanical Garden. It had been over a year since the last time Sören was here but he knew exactly where the two headstones were.
Sigurd Tollasson, 1957-1986
Brynhildur Jónsdóttir 1960-1990
Sören knelt down in the grass, kissed his fingertips, and pressed them against his mother's grave, then lay the flowers down and leaned forward, his head against his father's grave.
Magni did the math. "You were two when your father died."
Sören nodded. "I don't even remember him, but my mamma said he was a good man -" And then the tears came. Missing the father he'd never met, grieving the chance they'd never got, wondering what could have been. Remembering, as he often did, finding his mamma dead on the couch. Coming home with his drunk aunt. Five days later, feeling his uncle's belt for the first time because he'd dared to cry at the funeral in public and "boys don't cry". Then the patient he'd lost, as an intern in med school, who'd looked like his mother.
The dam around his emotions had cracked at the park, in the powerful beauty of the fjord, and now he completely fell apart. It had been his aunt and uncle that had driven him from his home, away from the magic and wonder of this place. And though he only had a few short years with his mamma he did remember her now, and he missed her. He missed her songs, her jokes. Her tenderness.
"She used to sing to me," Sören choked out. He knew that was part of what had drawn him to Magni - his mamma had instilled a love of music in him, and Magni's voice was recapturing a bit of that comfort.
Magni knelt beside him, reverent. "What kind of stuff did she sing?"
"She liked classic rock. I'm probably the only kid who had 'Break On Through To The Other Side' by The Doors as a fucking lullaby." Sören laughed through his tears. "That and 'Stairway To Heaven'. That was her favorite song."
Magni took Sören's hand, kissed it, and then sang in his rich, crystalline voice, that even Robert Plant himself would envy:
There's a lady who's sure all that glitters is gold
And she's buying a stairway to Heaven
When she gets there she knows, if the stores are all closed
With a word she can get what she came for
Ooh, ooh, and she's buying a stairway to Heaven
There's a sign on the wall, but she wants to be sure
'Cause you know sometimes words have two meanings
In a tree by the brook, there's a songbird who sings
Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiven
Ooh, makes me wonder
Ooh, makes me wonder
There's a feeling I get when I look to the west
And my spirit is crying for leaving
In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees
And the voices of those who stand looking...
Back at Icelandair's Hotel Akureyri, they had a light dinner of Greek salad and smoked salmon, and then they took a short walk to the geothermal swimming pool to relax.
Sören got his first glimpse of Magni's naked body in the shower before the pool, and Magni wearing a pair of blue swim trunks and nothing else did little to cool his libido. But they couldn't do anything about that in public.
Magni noticed Sören ogling him and smirked. "See something you like?"
Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip, face on fire.
Magni stuck out his tongue and splashed Sören.
They got into a splash war, chasing each other around the pool, splashing harder and harder until they both looked like drowned rats. Then Magni picked Sören up, put Sören on his shoulders, and carried Sören piggyback around the pool a few laps. Holding onto Magni, Sören felt safe and cared for. It was such a little thing, a playful thing, but it meant so much, after the emotional overload of the visit to his parents' graves. Magni had borne witness to his pain, had lent his strength, and now Magni was giving Sören another moment of silly happiness, like the way Sören had encouraged him to swing at the park earlier.
Back at the hotel, outside their door, Sören leaned on Magni for a minute. "Thank you."
"Thank you." Magni cupped Sören's chin in his hand.
They kissed, and after Magni opened the door to their suite, he picked Sören up, and with Sören's arms and legs wrapped around him, Magni carried him inside the suite, kissing all the way. Sören was painfully hard, and his hole was twitching, dripping slick, needy for Magni's knot. Every kiss was delicious teasing torment, the licking of their tongues a promise of how Magni would move inside him, how Sören would fuck himself on that cock. Sören couldn't string two thoughts together that didn't involve their naked bodies in different positions, Magni's cock in him, Sören's cock spilling on Magni's bare skin as Magni erupted deep inside him.
But Magni wasn't going to make this quick and done and over with. They undressed - Sören's breath hitched at the sight of Magni's long, thick cock, even bigger than he thought it would be - and then Magni gently rolled Sören onto his stomach and Sören heard Magni unzip his duffel bag, rummaging around inside.
Sören glanced over and saw Magni uncap a bottle of vanilla massage oil. Sören smiled.
"I want to spoil you," Magni explained.
"OK." Sören wiggled his ass. As desperately as he wanted to get fucked, the idea of being pampered a bit sounded lovely. There was a little bitter sting as Sören realized none of his previous partners had done anything like this for him... then those thoughts went away as he felt the liquid pour down his back.
Magni began to stroke and knead, working on the knots in Sören's shoulders and back, a kiss here, a lick there. Every now and again his fingers brushed down Sören's sensitive spine, making him shiver.
"The art on your back is beautiful," Magni said softly.
Magni leaned in and gave the phoenixes soft little kisses, as he continued rubbing, caressing. The tenderness of those kisses went right to Sören's heart...
...and it had been so long since Sören had been touched - since Sören had allowed anyone to touch him - that something even deeper than sexual need was awakened, an ache in his soul that once again hammered away at the already-broken wall around Sören's heart. Even though it was a damper on the sensual mood, Sören found himself crying, quietly at first, then fierce, primal sobs that felt like they were being torn out of him.
Magni stopped rubbing. "Are you OK, elskan?"
Sören smiled through his tears at the endearment; his heart leapt. Then the rush of elation came crashing down again, broken, vulnerable. "It's been so long..."
"Ai. You have skin hunger. You're touch-starved." Magni stroked Sören's cheek, his own eyes too bright.
It was such an obvious conclusion but it still shocked Sören to his core. He felt like he'd been completely exposed - like it wasn't just his body that was naked before Magni, but every fiber of his being. It was one of the most painful truths of Sören's life. He was badly, badly touch-starved, and feeling Magni's touch shook him. Even more than sex, he wanted to be petted, held.
Magni knew, and climbed on the bed beside Sören, pulled Sören against his chest, held him tight, began rocking him.
"I'm sorry," Sören choked out through his tears. "I know you want to get laid -"
"Hush." Magni kissed Sören's forehead, slid his lips down to kiss the tip of Sören's nose. "What I want, most of all, is to take care of you. You need this, you need to rest in my arms and be safe, be loved. Let me give you that."
Sören let Magni hold him and he cried, letting it out, all the pain of starving for touch for so many months... the unsatisfying relationships... growing up without hugs, his mamma's hugs a distant memory. He was so lonely, and the need in him felt like a bottomless abyss. But Magni seemed to understand - Sören had sensed that melancholy in him, and he wondered about it again, if Magni was touch-starved the same way.
"You need to be held too," Sören mused aloud.
"Yes," Magni said, and held Sören tighter. "We both need this, but right now it's your needs, your comfort." Magni kissed the top of Sören's head.
Sören continued to cry, and Magni began to rub his back. The touch soothed him, and the tears calmed, giving way to a leaden, hazy feeling - Sören was exhausted from crying so much, so hard, and now he was shutting down, starting to truly rest.
Magni cleared his throat and began to sing.
You know the day destroys the night
Night divides the day
Tried to run, tried to hide
Break on through to the other side
Break on through to the other side
Break on through to the other side, yeah
Sören smiled. Magni went on:
We chased our pleasures here
Dug our treasures there
But can you still recall the time we cried
Break on through to the other side
Break on through to the other side
When that song was over, Magni sang "Stairway To Heaven" again, and this time, as Magni sang "In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees | And the voices of those who stand looking..." Sören's mind took him to his forest... this time with a vision of seven young men, three with red hair, one blond, the other three with hair of black... one of them Magni, laughing, horseplaying, happy. Sören pushing Magni on a tree swing, watching him sail into the sky.
Sören sighed, and the forest enfolded him into sleep.
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