"Daddy, I'm horny."
Anthony grins. "Hi Horny, I'm -"
Sören narrows his eyes. "Hey, that's my joke."
"We share things, right?"
Sören facepalms, then he giggles and rolls his eyes. "Anyway..." Sören crinkles his nose and bites his lower lip. "Want to pull over for a quickie?"
Officially, Acadia National Park is two hours forty five minutes from Portland, Maine, but realistically it usually takes closer to four hours one way. As much as Anthony wants to indulge Sören, he also knows a quickie is rarely a quickie and they'll never make it to the campground before the time they have to check in.
"We have to behave, honey. You know we need to be there on time." Anthony gives an apologetic little frown.
Sören whines.
Anthony can't help laughing. "You are so insatiable."
"You make me horny, especially in those glasses."
For once, Anthony is wearing his glasses instead of contacts. He feels safer wearing them on longer trips, less chance of one falling out while he's on the road. He's also trying to get back into the habit of wearing glasses - the first two years after he came out and began transition he was more prone to wearing glasses because he felt they made him look more masculine, but then he went back to contacts out of self-consciousness; he had been picked on in his younger years for wearing glasses. While their shop was closed Anthony reverted to wearing glasses instead of contacts to spare the expense, but after the shop re-opened the old insecurities returned and he once again returned to contacts a few weeks before the re-opening to ease back into wearing them. And he feels guilty about that - the shop is doing OK, but they still have to be careful for awhile and the contacts are an expense for vanity rather than necessity.
But Sören has never had a problem with Anthony's glasses. Quite the opposite, apparently. Anthony's face flushes and he feels himself grinning like an idiot. "Silly boy."
"Seriously. You look hot as fuck in glasses. I've missed seeing you in them since the shop re-opened."
Anthony runs a hand through his hair - a reflexive preening gesture; his cheeks burn even more, realizing what he's doing. He bites his lower lip and tries to focus on the road and not the very hot Jon Snow lookalike sitting in the passenger's seat who makes him feel like a sex god. "Kind of wish I'd never stopped wearing them, if you react like that."
"Oh, I haven't begun to react. I sure could if you want to pull over." Sören wiggles his eyebrows.
Anthony throws his head back and laughs - he loves how horny Sören is for him, but they really can't be late. "I have to drive, baby. I promise it'll be worth the wait when we get there." Anthony glances over and licks his lips so Sören can see it.
Sören makes a noise of protest and then he slumps in his chair. Anthony turns up the RV's stereo - they burned some CDs for road trips and this one is the 90s alternative rock of Anthony's teenage years. "Counting Blue Cars" by Dishwalla is on, a one-hit wonder, and Anthony starts noticing the blue cars on the highway.
He thinks that's the end of it and Sören will let it go till they get there and then he hears a zipper and out of the corner of his eye he watches Sören shove a hand down his pants, playing with himself. When Sören sees that Anthony has noticed, Sören lets out an exaggerated moan.
Anthony figures it's better for Sören to relieve himself between now and tonight than keep asking and tempting him, but after a few minutes he can actually hear wet squishing sounds, despite having turned up the volume on the music... and he can smell Sören's arousal. His nostrils flare as he feels that familiar thrust in his loins, fighting the urge to pull over, drag Sören off to the bed in back, and ravage him.
Sören looks over and moans again, pawing himself harder. The wet squishing sounds get louder.
Anthony is having a harder time concentrating on the road. That's not safe. And Sören is testing him - Anthony can give in to Sören's teasing, or he can tease Sören right back, which he suspects is what Sören really wants. He pulls over, and Sören takes his hand out of his jeans and claps excitedly. Sören gets right up, and before he can march to the back of the van, Anthony also rises and gently but firmly shoves Sören back in his seat.
"Sit," Anthony commands. Then he pats Sören's head. "Stay."
Anthony walks to the back of the van while Sören waits. They have a bag packed just with toys, and lube if needed. Anthony rummages around till he finds what he's looking for. He puts two items in his pocket and then he carries the other items behind his back, whistling. Sören bites his lip again as Anthony approaches.
Anthony reaches down Sören's boxer-briefs with the bullet vibe, nestles it against Sören's hard little cock - not able to help groaning at how wet Sören is, not able to help bringing his fingers to his lips to taste, and half-regretting that he's not dragging Sören to the back - and he pulls the remote control out of his pocket and turns it on to its lowest setting, just enough to frustrate Sören, not enough to get him off. Sören howls.
Before Sören can reach down to try and cheat by playing with the vibe, Anthony pulls the handcuffs out from behind his back, grabs Sören's arms, and slaps the cuffs on Sören's wrists. Since Sören is handcuffed in front and not with his arms behind his back, he can make it the rest of the way to the campsite without too much trouble. Anthony pulls the key from his pocket, which is on a chain, dangles it in Sören's face, and gives it a kiss before he slips the chain around his neck. Sören snarls through clenched teeth and Anthony lets out a maniacal laugh as he sits back down and begins to maneuver the RV back onto the road.
"You're an evil bastard," Sören says.
"Oh, Jon Snow called me a bastard. What do I win?"
Sören narrows his eyes, and Anthony blows a kiss.
Then Sören laughs too. "Jesus."
"That's what you get for teasing me. I told you we need to behave so we can get there on time."
"That was behaving."
"No it wasn't. You were distracting me and you know it." Anthony licks his lips again. "I bet you'll be soooo fucking wet by the time we're at the campsite -"
"Fuuuuuuuck." Sören leans back in his chair and lets out a little sob, but then he laughs again.
"You can always safeword if it's too much, of course."
"Fuck you."
Anthony smirks; he knows Sören loves it. Just to be even more evil, he turns the vibe up a little higher, but still not enough to make Sören come. Sören whines, but he sits there in his cuffs and doesn't safeword. By the time they're a half-hour away, the entire RV smells like Sören's cunt and Anthony is dripping, but he tells himself if he can hold back, it'll be worth it.
As they pull in for their check-in with the rangers at Seawall Campground and Anthony rolls down the window, he worries that the ranger is going to be able to smell Sören, but the check-in is brief and the ranger either seems to not notice anything or is too polite to mention it. Anthony continues driving to where he can park the RV, and once they're parked, Anthony turns off the car stereo. For a moment, he sits there and listens to the vibe softly purring.
Anthony looks at the time, then back at Sören. "OK, I'm going to get dinner started." He reaches over and pats Sören. "I'll uncuff you when it's time to eat, OK?" He boops Sören's nose and heads to the back, where they have some food in a cooler.
Anthony grills burgers while Sören sits in his cuffs and whines. Finally, Anthony uncuffs him and they walk across the street to the Seawall Picnic Area, where they watch the sunset blaze into the ocean. Since it's the end of September the tourists have mostly gone away and it's just them, alone with the sea and the sky, the rocks and the evergreens. The smell of salt air and pine is refreshing, and Anthony sighs deeply, starting to relax after the mild stress of driving a large vehicle on the highway. Even after close to eight years in the States, he still doesn't feel entirely confident driving on highways, but he's glad he brought them here to the place where they got married in 2017.
Sören and Anthony play footsie under the picnic table as they eat, and Anthony thinks about what he'd like to do to Sören back in the van. Then his cell phone goes off - it's a text from Mark, with a couple photos attached of the cats to show everything is fine. They upgraded Mark's phone from a flip phone to an Android before they left - Anthony felt safer if Mark had a better phone to work with, in case something happens.
Anthony fires off a quick reply to thank Mark for the update, and then Sören says, "Mark?"
Anthony nods. He shows Sören the pictures.
"Awwwwww, our babies." Sören smiles fondly. "I miss them already."
"Yeah, me too. But I'm glad we're here. We need this."
"We do." Sören reaches across the table and puts a hand on Anthony's arm. "Thank you for finding a way for us to celebrate properly." He looks out at the fiery sea. "This is nice. It's beautiful."
"You're beautiful." Anthony looks Sören up and down. Though Sören is dressed down, in a black T-shirt and faded, scuffed jeans, he's still model-gorgeous, and the glow of the sunset suits the fire of his spirit. "My phoenix."
Sören bites his lower lip with a shy, sweet smile.
Anthony has dessert in the cooler - he made sure there was cake, and strawberries - but they go back in the van to eat that, as the sunset fades to twilight, so they can see what they're doing. Once they're in the van, as Anthony starts getting it out and set up, Sören takes his duffel bag and steps into the RV's tiny bathroom, which means he's changing out of his clothes. Anthony takes off his glasses, takes out his packer and strips down to his boxers, and waits for Sören on the bed with strawberries and whipped cream topping generous slices of lemon cake.
When Sören steps out of the bathroom, he's wearing black lace crotchless panties, a black garter belt, and lace-trimmed thigh-high fishnet stockings. The contrast of Sören looking like a modern-day Viking barbarian with his shoulder-length curls and his beard and his ink and piercings, but also looking like a slutty femboy in his lingerie, is the sexiest thing Anthony has ever seen in his life. His jaw drops and he can't even make words. He feels himself getting hard and wet just looking at Sören - not able to stop staring at Sören exposed like this, his little cock swollen from being teased, the thick, flappy lips glistening wet, the dark curls damp. As Sören comes closer, Anthony watches Sören dripping. He wants.
Sören climbs onto the bed. "You like?"
"God, yes." Anthony finds his words. "Jesus Christ, I got out dessert but... you are dessert."
Sören smiles.
Anthony grabs Sören by the O-ring of his collar and kisses him hard. He's tempted to say hell with the cake and fuck his husband senseless right now, but he paces himself.
They feed each other bites of cake, and kiss with mouthfuls of lemon cake, strawberries and cream. Some strawberry juice and cream drips down their bare chests, and they lick from each other's skin. They lick and suck each other's fingers. Sören finishes his cake first, and Anthony takes his last bit of cake and shoves Sören back and mashes the cake onto Sören's chest, eating it off him, continuing to lap the lingering sweetness from Sören's flesh. Sören moans and giggles, and Anthony growls as he nibbles Sören's stomach.
Then he slides down. "Now I get to the good part," Anthony says, eyes locking with Sören's.
He spreads Sören and laps the juices from one inner thigh, then the other. Back and forth, kissing, sucking on them, biting. Sören cries out and bucks. Anthony smiles and his finger slides up and down Sören's cock, around and around the tip. His finger dips inside - Sören is so hot and wet - and Anthony brings it to his lips to taste, letting Sören watch. He can't hold back anymore and he takes his first lick - Sören tastes especially delicious from being juicy for hours. Sören cries out again, his nails in Anthony's shoulders.
Anthony licks at the hard nub of Sören's dick, slowly, slowly, then faster, rubbing his tongue. He sucks on one of Sören's boypussy lips, pulling it, and Sören whimpers. Sören grunts as Anthony sucks on the other one. He goes back and forth, sucking, slurping, before licking Sören's cock again. With their eyes locked, Anthony starts sucking Sören's cock, bobbing his head, working his fingers in and out as his other hand caresses Sören's thigh and stomach. He takes Sören's hand and Sören grips it tight, almost sobbing as Anthony keeps sucking, suctioning, his fingers furiously rubbing Sören's G-spot. Sören is so pent up that it doesn't take long. He bucks again with a fierce cry and his walls clamp down on Anthony's fingers, squeezing, as his cock twitches and his lips flutter. Anthony groans, lapping up the gushing juices, going out of his mind with lust.
He wants to come too, and takes off his soaked boxers, but he wants to spoil Sören first, after all that teasing. When Sören is ready, Anthony sucks him again, fingering him fast and hard, making filthy wet sloppy sounds. His tongue dips inside, lashing away, as his fingers play with Sören's cock, pinching and pulling. Sören writhes, howling, at last panting, gasping, a frenzied look in his eye as he gets closer. Anthony sucks him again, shaking his head violently, nodding hard as he sucks for all he's worth. Sören squirts on Anthony's face, letting out a deep, primal growl.
Anthony can't take it anymore. He slides up and kisses Sören, and Sören moans as he tastes himself. Anthony starts kissing Sören's neck, grinding against Sören's thigh. His thumb rolls and rubs a pierced nipple, and he kisses and licks his way down to Sören's chest, to take the nipple in his mouth. Sören cries out and clutches at him.
"You want to come again?" Anthony asks.
"Fuck yes."
Anthony laps Sören's nipple and suckles again, harder. He turns to the other one and gives it the same treatment, sucking, licking, sucking. He tugs the ring with his teeth and laps it some more, then the other. Sören bites his lip and whines. Anthony kisses and nibbles up Sören's neck to claim his mouth again, and he maneuvers Sören's legs and his own until their cocks touch and their pussy lips kiss.
They rub together slowly, kissing, then Anthony rocks against him harder, faster. They take each other's hands and kiss, working their hips, moaning at the feel of cock on cock, lips on lips, teasing, the rhythm building and building until they're both shaking, panting, their foreheads together, Sören looking into Anthony's eyes adoringly. They kiss again and Anthony is right there, trying to hold back, wanting to make Sören come, wanting to keep feeling that sweet rubbing, like gliding on silk. Sören lets out a little whimper and the feel of him contracting sets Anthony off with a shuddery gasp.
"Daddy," Sören breathes, eyes wide as if he's witnessing a miracle. A slow smile lights up Sören's face and Anthony grins too, laughing with the rush of euphoria as he throbs with pleasure and relief.
They rub noses and snuggle. A little while later they're kissing again, and with Sören's nails in his back, Sören begging "please, please Daddy, more," Anthony fucks him again, harder, all lust and hunger and passion. He loves this man so much, and the fuck feels like a celebration of their life - their victory over death earlier this year. Reclaiming life, bold and loud and fierce. The wet slurping sound of their fuck competes with their broken cries, the thump of the bed as they buck against each other, frantic. Nothing else exists but hot, raw sex, the fire in their blood, the fire in their hearts.
They come together, Sören raking Anthony's back with a cry. Sören's drawn blood and the bliss of Anthony's release is intensified by the sweet sting at his back. "My kitty has claws," Anthony says, raining kisses over Sören's face.
Sören growls, then purrs. Anthony growls and purrs back before a kiss.
"I got a little rough, Daddy." Sören bats his eyes innocently. "Oopsie."
"Yeah, I think if you want to go again we need to tame kitty." Anthony gives Sören a look, although he's not at all upset by Sören scratching his back - he loves it, and Sören smirks, knowing he loves it - but he loves to dominate Sören even more. Anthony reaches for the cuffs, pulls Sören's arms up over his head, and cuffs him. With Sören cuffed and helpless, Anthony can't resist another round of teasing, kissing and licking Sören all over, caressing, making Sören whine with frustration. Anthony slides down and starts licking Sören's cock very, very slowly, sucking on one of Sören's pussy lips, then the other, before more slow licking at Sören's cock. Sören screams and swears in Icelandic, and Anthony loves it. His fingers walk up and down the planes of Sören's body, brushing, swirling, as he keeps licking, then sucking slowly, slowly. He kisses and nibbles Sören's inner thighs, then licks at Sören's cock some more.
When Sören is screaming "PLEASE, DADDY, PLEASE. PLEASE, PLEASE. PLEASE, FUCKING PLEASE, DADDY, PLEASE..." at the top of his lungs, Anthony presses the back of his hand to his forehead with an exaggerated eyeroll and sigh. "Oh, all right," Anthony groans.
Sören sticks out his tongue. Anthony does too - just to lick at Sören's cock some more, making Sören howl. Anthony laughs, then he comes up and their tongues rub together, sharing Sören's juices.
With Sören's leg on Anthony's shoulder, Sören's wrists still bound, Anthony fucks him again. He holds the O-ring of Sören's collar with one hand, and the fingers of his other hand are in Sören's mouth, Sören sobbing and whimpering around his fingers. Anthony pulls his fingers out just before Sören comes, calling out "Daddy, Daddy. Pabbi..."
"Oh, baby." Anthony comes too, shivering. He sinks down, feeling like he's floating. "You're so good, baby."
They kiss and Anthony uncuffs Sören. They lay there, dazed, and then Sören gasps and Anthony comes back to himself a little more. Sören points out the window. Over the sea, the stars are innumerable. Anthony turns off the light in the van and the stars are more intense once they're in complete darkness - they can see the Milky Way.
It's not the first time they've seen a clear night sky together, they have in parts of Iceland and the last time they came here. But it's been years, and it's been rare enough in Anthony's life - having lived in places like London and New York City - that it's always a wonder. It feels right that they're sharing this, in the afterglow.
"I love you so much," Anthony says, holding Sören tighter.
"I love you, Daddy."
They lay there, lost in the beauty of the stars, the sound of the tides. It's been a perfect day in an uncertain year, two lives that have known their share of trauma and heartache, and it makes Anthony glad they've held on this long.
Sören closes his eyes and lets out a deep, contented sigh.
Anthony continues to watch the stars until his own eyes are heavy. Sören is breathing slower - Anthony's sure he's asleep - but he still gives a little reassurance... for himself as well as Sören. "You're here with me," Anthony says, stroking Sören's face and hair, "and everything's going to be all right." He kisses Sören's brow and smiles as Sören lets out a tiny snore.
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