Sören startles awake at the scream across the hall... then he hears muffled sobs. His heart aches as he realizes through his sleepy haze that Mark is trying to keep it down not to disturb them, or perhaps because he's ashamed of crying.
Anthony sits up, rubbing his bleary eyes, and he and Sören look at each other for a moment, then Anthony says, "Right," and they dash off together to Mark's room. Mark has his door open a crack so the cats can freely go in and out, and Anthony doesn't knock first, he just pushes the door open, with Sören following right behind.
Sören sits on the edge of Mark's bed and Anthony kneels beside them. Mark rolls to face Anthony, and Sören starts gently rubbing Mark's back without thinking about it. "Shhhhhh," Sören soothes. "It's OK." In the blue glow of the nightlight, the haunted look in Mark's eyes makes Sören's own eyes tear up, hurting for him, wanting to make it better, wanting to make the pain stop...
...feeling protective of him. Wanting to make him safe.
Anthony's hand joins Sören's on Mark's back. "Bad dream?" Anthony asks, his voice raspy from sleep.
Mark nods. He lets out a shuddery sigh. "I dreamt about my father dying... then my eldest brother." He closes his eyes, facepalms, and his jaw quivers, tears sliding down his cheeks.
Sören fights the impulse to lean in and kiss his tears. Instead, he and Anthony each take a hold of Mark and lift him up into a sitting position, and then they hug him together, rocking him.
"I'm so sorry," Anthony whispers, his voice choking up - he looks over at Sören, and Sören can see Anthony's eyes are too bright. Sören reaches out to squeeze Anthony's hand, knowing he's feeling those same nurturing, protective urges. "I'm so sorry."
"We can't undo the past," Sören says, "but you're here now, with us. You're safe with us."
"C'mon." Anthony rises to his feet, and so does Sören. They take Mark's hands and pull him out of bed, and then, still taking him by the hand, they lead him across the hall to the bedroom.
For the briefest instant Sören thinks about comforting him with their bodies, offering Mark pleasure and relief, but he smacks himself internally, not wanting to take advantage of Mark when he's vulnerable... not wanting to take advantage of him at all, not wanting Mark to feel like they took him in to use him. Instead, they put Mark in the middle of the bed and lay on either side of him - it's only two in the morning and while it's Tuesday now and they have today off and can sleep in, they still need their sleep.
Anthony spoons Mark and Sören pulls him close, and they resume rocking him, petting him. "It's OK," Sören repeats, like a mantra, even though he knows from his own trauma it's never really 100% OK, that stuff stays with you for life. But all he has right now is his words, and trying to bring Mark to the present. "It's all right. You're here with us. Safe with us."
"You're home," Anthony says, arms tightening around Mark from behind. "We've got you."
Mark sobs harder, like a dam breaking, and they hold him, catching the deluge... looking at each other over Mark's shoulder, crying their own silent tears. Sören wonders what kind of hell Mark has gone through, and for how long. He feels like they've just skimmed the surface of Mark's pain and grief, and it already goes deep enough. Sören can almost feel it, burning like an infected wound, the years of loneliness, being on the run both literally and in a symbolic way. Having nothing, no one, until now.
"Safe with us," Sören whispers, rocking, holding Mark tight, with all of his strength. "We're not going anywhere."
"You're stuck with us," Anthony says, giving Mark a squeeze. Mark manages a weak smile through his tears. "As long as you need or want to be here with us, you're welcome."
"Jæja." Sören boops Mark's nose. "You're family." Except people usually don't want to fuck their family members. Sören's cheeks flush as another series of lustful images flashes in his mind's eye, kissing and licking Mark all over, spoiling him...
"I'm sorry I'm like this," Mark grits out. "I'm sorry I'm so fucking broken -"
Sören hates hearing Mark talk about himself like this - it reminds him of the way he felt after he and Anthony had been together a few months and Sören was starting to let go of the survival habits he'd developed living with his alcoholic aunt and uncle, like going without, and trying to be as quiet as possible. The normalcy of living with Anthony was both healing and a reminder of how his early life experiences had misshapen him and it was hard to re-align, and Sören wonders now if the outing yesterday - the precious peace and joy - ended up making Mark think about all the peace and joy he's missed. "Shhhhhhhh." Sören presses a kiss to Mark's forehead, even though it makes him tingly all over, makes him want, and that's dangerous right now. "We accept you just as you are, Mark."
Sören stops himself from saying love and accept, and that cuts him to the quick. Sören holds Mark tighter still, rocks more insistently. "You're beautiful to us," Sören adds. "Like a phoenix, rising from the ashes."
"Like you," Mark says, looking into Sören's eyes... his fingers trace the flames on Sören's right arm, like a shock that goes right to Sören's cunt, twinging with forbidden need.
"Cut from the same cloth." Sören strokes Mark's face and once again fights the impulse to kiss him. "Which is how I know you'll be OK."
"Just rest now," Anthony says, and puts a hand on Mark's heart. "Here. Think of a safe place. Think... of walking through a garden. Under a grove of trees, in soft golden light."
Mark's eyes widen for a moment and he tenses, as if Anthony has said something wrong, and then he exhales and Sören feels the tension uncoil.
"Walk among the happy little trees." Anthony smiles, and Sören smiles back. "Walk through the light."
"Happy little light," Sören adds.
Mark chuckles. "You guys are something else."
"Happy little something else," Sören teases.
Anthony's voice gets softer, and now all three cats are on the bed, purring loudly in unison. "Walk under the trees," Anthony says; Sören's eyes get heavy too. "Let the trees shelter you."
Mark's breathing slows. A few minutes later, Mark is back asleep - or at least very good at faking it - and Sören lets himself sink into sleep as well, still holding Mark. Sheltering Mark with his body, like the embodiment of the trees and the light.
Trees made of light, Sören thinks to himself, just before he slips away.
When Sören wakes up again, he hears the sound of rain. He lays there, slowly coming back to himself, and then makes a whine of protest when he notices a cool spot in the bed. He opens his eyes and sees Anthony also blinking awake. Anthony yawns and stretches, which triggers Sören's own yawn response, and they scoot closer to each other and just hold each other for a few minutes, looking into each other's eyes, listening to the rain fall.
Then something smells delicious - like baked apples - and Mark peeks in the bedroom. "Oh good. I was just about to wake you up."
Anthony and Sören do their business in the bathroom, then when they come out, Sören gasps with delight at the huge stacks of apple cinnamon pancakes. Mark beams.
"I told you to rest," Anthony says, wagging a finger at Mark.
"And I did. Then I woke up, and... I wanted to do something to say thank you," Mark says.
Anthony folds his arms and gives Mark a stern look. "You don't need to repay us for basic human kindness and decency, Mark. You deserve compassion and understanding, you don't owe us anything for that. You're not a house elf, for fuck's sake."
Mark laughs at that, then he shoves a plate of pancakes at Anthony. "Am I not allowed to cope with my distress? This is part of how I cope, dammit, is taking care of my family."
Anthony grumbles in protest but he takes the plate into the living room. Before Mark can hand Sören his plate, Sören flings his arms around Mark and gives him a big squeeze... and once again reins in the urge to kiss him passionately. "Takk," Sören says, too touched by the thoughtful gesture to use English in that moment.
The pancakes are delicious, and just as delicious is Mark's smile as he enjoys watching them eat his offering. But every now and again Mark glances out the window at the rain and frowns a little, and Sören knows Mark is still troubled by last night.
He's been there. Too many times to count.
Anthony takes their plates and does dishes, while Mark and Sören relax with coffee and cats. Mark looks pensive, and when he notices Sören watching him, he attempts to smile, but Sören knows it's not entirely natural.
"You could use a distraction," Sören says.
"Too bad the weather sucks," Anthony calls from the sink, "or I'd offer to drive us back to that farm. Or maybe we could have gone to the beach."
"We could still do something indoors," Sören said.
Anthony turns around and flashes Sören a cheeky grin. "Like go the bowling alley and visit your boyfriend Mitch?"
Sören purses his lips. He kind of regrets jokingly ogling Mitch as a way of testing the waters with Anthony about attraction to another person - he got cold feet about turning that into a conversation about them finding a third to play with, which they hadn't had since the early days of their relationship. While Sören enjoyed going to the bowling alley and the arcade and wouldn't mind doing that again, he's not in the mood for returning to the bowling alley today, knowing Anthony will roast him about Mitch, when it's Mark he really wants, even though he shouldn't. "Nah, something else." Sören strokes his beard, thinking. Then it comes to him. "We could go to the mall. Like, not the local strip mall, but the Maine Mall in Portland."
Anthony loads the dishwasher without saying anything, and once it's started he leans against the kitchen counter, and Sören can tell he's not particularly enthusiastic about that idea.
"I don't really want to go someplace with a lot of people today," Anthony explains, "after what happened last week."
"Jæja, I'm sorry, I should have known better before I suggested it -" Sören feels guilty; the attack from the guy in the MAGA hat at the shop was scary, and Sören knows it was even scarier for Anthony, after having been stabbed at the end of 2015.
Anthony puts up a hand. "Just because I don't want to go doesn't mean you can't go. I'm OK with you two going if you want to, just... mask up, OK?" They can get away maskless at places with fewer people, like the bowling alley and arcade, or at the farm, and they've relaxed the mask policy at the shop with COVID cases waning in Maine, but even though the economy has been slower, there's still a good chance the Maine Mall won't be dead even on a Tuesday during the day.
"I need to drive my van once in awhile anyway," Mark says, "to make sure the battery doesn't die. So if you want to go to the mall, I'll take you."
Sören's heart beats a little faster at the prospect of being alone with Mark, even though he knows it's not a date, and he shouldn't even be thinking about dating him. He glances back at Anthony. "You sure you're OK with..."
Anthony nods. "It's OK for you to do stuff without me, Sören. I know we've been kind of attached at the hip since the pandemic started but no, really, I think it's healthy if you want to go places and do things on your own sometimes. Besides, I want to do some work around the apartment while I've got all this lingering nervous energy from last week, and it'll be easier to do that if you guys are out of the house."
Sören goes over and gives Anthony a hug.
Sören takes a shower to get ready for the trip, and he gets out of the bathroom wearing a towel just as Mark comes out of his room in a fresh change of clothes. Mark freezes in his tracks and so does Sören, startled - then Sören stands there, face on fire, as Mark looks him up and down before looking off to the side. Sören looks down at himself and sees how low the towel is slung on his hips, revealing his treasure trail and just the top of his curly black bush, like the hair on his head.
"Sorry," Sören says.
"No, I'm sorry," Mark says, swallowing hard. "I picked the worst possible time to come out of my room."
Sören scoots off across the hall to the bedroom, closes the door behind him, and gets dressed. Wondering how much Mark saw, and if he liked what he saw. And being ashamed for that reaction, feeling like a creepy pervert exposing himself.
Mark is nonchalant by the time Sören meets him in the living room. They hug Anthony goodbye - Anthony gives them each forty dollars, like a father giving his kids spending money, and Mark hands his forty dollars right back to Anthony - then they go out to Mark's van.
Sören hasn't gotten a good look at Mark's van since they brought Mark's things upstairs last month, and now he sees the mattress and bedding in the back seat, and his heart breaks all over again, thinking of all the months - years - Mark has lived in that cramped space, night after night in parking lots, surviving hand-to-mouth...
Sören clears his throat and tries to not make a big deal about it, not wanting to embarrass Mark. Mark puts on a hair metal playlist and Sören smirks. "A bit before your time, jæja?" Sören also appreciates older music - his mother was a big fan of Led Zeppelin - but he's not used to seeing someone around his age or slightly older who's that much into 80s cheese.
"A bit." Mark smirks.
"How old are you, anyway?" It occurs to Sören they took Mark in and never asked him his age. Obviously Mark is an adult and was in the service, but...
"Twenty-seven," Mark says, looking straight ahead as he begins backing out of the parking lot. "I'll be twenty-eight on Saint Patrick's Day."
"Oh, so you're just a little bit older than me."
"Yeah." Mark looks over his shoulder and then he pulls out onto the road.
Mark doesn't look any older than early thirties - twenty-seven seems about right - and yet something about the way Mark replied makes that answer feel wrong, somehow. Sören doesn't want to think Mark is lying, though it also seems like if someone is on the run from the authorities, as an AWOL soldier would be, one would adopt a new birthday and it would make sense to have a fake birthday on a holiday, easier to remember. Then again, Sören's birthday falls on American Thanksgiving enough that he knows he can't talk. Sören chews on the information just given him. "How long were you in the service?"
"Six years, as soon as I was old enough. I went AWOL three years ago." Mark looks off to the side as they wait at a light.
"You were in the Gulf, já?"
Mark nods.
The terse answers make Sören feel like he's stepping on toes, even though it's friendly curiosity. "Sorry, I'll change the subject. I just. You know. I care -" More than care. "And want to get to know you -"
"It's OK." Mark gives a tight smile. "It's a sore subject but that's not your fault."
Curiosity strikes Sören again as they're halfway there. "What part of Canada are you from, anyway?"
"Winnipeg. Or Winterpeg, as we call it." Mark grins at Sören. "Winterfell."
Sören narrows his eyes and sticks his tongue out. Then he feels self-conscious again. "I probably sound like Anthony with all the questions -"
"No, it's... it's fine." Mark sighs. "Sorry, I'm really bad at this... talking about myself stuff."
Sören smiles at the "sore-ree" and "aboat". He almost expects an "eh" at the end of the sentence. He grasps for levity to ease the tension in the air. "Hi Really Bad At This Talking About Myself Stuff -"
Mark facepalms with an exaggerated groan, then he shakes with silent laughter. "Hard to believe you're only twenty-six, you're like... the dad of dads." Mark rolls his eyes. "You remind me of my dad."
Sören tries not to let himself be crushed by that statement. He's definitely not into you. "OK but, I'm more of a zaddy than a daddy."
Mark's laughter is less silent. "Zaddy? What the..." Mark smirks, eyes twinkling. "Is zaddy like vore?"
Sören is sure from that look on Mark's face that he knows it's not like vore, but asking if such-and-such is like vore has become a running joke and Sören loves it. "No. I'm surprised you don't... well, then again your Internet access has probably been pretty limited."
"Yeah, I'm kind of out of touch. And I grew up in a fairly backwater part of Winnipeg, off the grid, so I feel like a relic of an older era." Mark gives a nervous chuckle and looks out the window at the rain, just as they pull into the parking lot of the Maine Mall.
It's enough of a walk from their parking place to the mall entrance that Mark gets out an umbrella. Standing so close to Mark under the umbrella makes Sören a tingly, flustered, giddy mess, giggling for no reason once they make it inside. He feels like an idiot, and hopes his attraction isn't obvious, but Mark is just as nonchalant as he was after The Towel Incident this morning, and Sören tries to pull himself together.
Sören hasn't been to the Maine Mall since before the pandemic started. Having been poor most of his life thanks to his guardians' drinking habit and coming of age during Iceland's financial crisis, Sören still isn't used to shopping-for-fun. He has forty dollars and still doesn't know what to buy for himself - if anything at all - as they browse department stores and novelty shops.
But then they reach Build-A-Bear. Sören has a modest collection of plushies, though his favorite is of course his blue bunny from childhood, his one surviving physical link to his mamma. As they look around, it occurs to Sören that Mark has very little to his name, and he remembers Mark waking up screaming from a nightmare and decides he's going to spend his money on a friend for Mark. He knows Mark refused the forty dollars Anthony gave him, but Sören is going to insist to do something for Mark.
"Here," Sören says, dragging Mark into the store. "You need a snuggle buddy."
Sören could easily walk out with half the critters if he had unlimited funds, but Mark is mysterious - and gorgeous - enough that Sören thinks he needs something more special than just a bear or a bunny. The assortment of dragons and unicorns catches his eye. "Let's get you a cryptid. A cryptid for a cryptid."
Mark laughs and facepalms, but he doesn't protest.
Mark ends up with a light purple unicorn with a pastel rainbow mane and tail, wearing sparkly iridescent rainbow fairy wings and a tutu. Sören has some money on his debit card besides the forty bucks Anthony gave him and he buys "aquatic friends" for the unicorn, including a crab that will fit on one of the unicorn's "wrists", or perhaps its horn. Other people are looking at them strangely, two grown men dressing up a unicorn, but Sören doesn't care. Not only does Sören not care, but Sören makes the unicorn prance around and talk. "Yay! New friend! New friend! Take me home! Yay!"
They end their trip at the Maine Mall in Spencers and Hot Topic, which makes Sören feel even cheesier than Build-A-Bear. He takes a few selfies to show Anthony he was in Hot Topic, including a "super serious goth pose" that makes him bust out laughing afterwards. Mark mostly rolls his eyes at the selection in Hot Topic but he lingers at a Joy Division shirt in his size, looking a bit wistful, and Sören throws it on his debit card, hoping the purchase won't bite him in the ass later.
"I was into both goth and glam metal," Mark explains as they walk back out to the car. "Some groups had both influences, like... Gene Loves Jezebel."
"If I didn't know you were twenty-seven, I'd think you'd been around in the eighties," Sören tells him, impressed by his knowledge of older music.
Mark purses his lips and walks a little faster - the rain is really coming down.
Sören's never heard of Gene Loves Jezebel so Mark puts on "Desire" once they're out of the parking lot on the way home. "Two brothers who people suspected were in an incestuous relationship," Mark says, "and then they had an epic falling out." Mark looks off to the side, out the window at the rain.
"Wow. Too bad, this is a good song." Sören takes the unicorn out of the shopping bag. "Right? Don't you agree?"
The unicorn nods its head. Sören makes it "talk" in a high, squeaky voice. "Maybe my name should be Jezebel!"
"You can't name a unicorn Jezebel, Sören." Mark laughs.
"Why not?" Sören raises an eyebrow.
"Because... you can't. Do you even know who Jezebel is?"
"She was in the Bible, right? My aunt got religion. She called me Jezebel when I put on eye makeup."
"We are not naming the unicorn Jezebel. Besides, how do you know it's a girl?" Mark cocks his head to one side. "I think that's a boy unicorn."
"Fair. But you need to name him. He can't go without a name."
Mark narrows his eyes. "Names are important and take time to decide properly -"
"Oh come on, how hard can it be?" Sören makes the unicorn bounce up and down on Mark's shoulder, and puts on the high, squeaky unicorn voice again. "Name me! Name me! Give me a name! Give me a name!"
Mark shakes his head, chuckling. "Hells..."
The unicorn hops down, and Sören and the unicorn look at each other, then Sören turns the unicorn's head so they both look back at Mark, and Sören makes the unicorn nod. "Hells isn't a conventional name, but OK..."
Mark facepalms. "Ohgod."
They take a detour to Starbucks to get coffee - Sören's treat, not entirely unselfish since Sören really wants a pumpkin spice latte - and they bring the unicorn inside with them. At the strange looks from a nearby table, Sören finally says, "It's his emotional support unicorn."
Mark throws his head back and his laughter rings out. "Dammit, Sören..."
In Starbucks Mark shows Sören some 80s videos, including Gene Loves Jezebel - Mark moves over and sits next to him so they can watch together. Once again, the proximity of Mark's body makes Sören all aflutter, and that giddiness lasts until they get home.
Anthony has apple pies in the oven - which smell delicious - and they hear the vacuum. Once Sören is done using the bathroom, Anthony finishes vacuuming and joins them in the living room. He puts on tea... just in time for thunder to boom outside, which startles Sören enough to let out a little shriek. His face burns, but Mark gives him a reassuring hug.
"Fuck," Sören says, embarrassed by his reaction, especially in front of a hot guy - though he's sure that hot guy isn't interested in him at all. "FECK," Sören yells, louder, making Anthony laugh.
Anthony brings Sören tea when it's ready and Sören plays it up to make Anthony laugh some more. "FECK OFF, CUP!"
Mark gives them a confused look and Anthony says, "You've never seen Father Ted, have you?"
Anthony got Sören into watching Father Ted and other Britcoms when they began living together, and now Anthony puts on Father Ted to introduce Mark to it. At the Eurovision episode, Sören makes the unicorn hop around for "My Lovely Horse".
"That's an interesting purchase you have there," Anthony says.
"His name is Hells," Sören informs him.
Mark doubles over laughing. "God, Sören..."
When the apple pie is ready, they each have a piece warm from the oven, topped with vanilla ice cream, and Sören finally notices there's a Lowe's shopping bag. "You went to Lowe's while we were gone?"
"Had to get a few odds and ends," Anthony says, nodding.
Later that evening when it's time for bed, Sören finally sees what Anthony was doing at Lowe's. The bedroom is set up with candles and a trail of rose petals... one trail leading to the bed, the other leading to a St. Andrew's cross against the wall.
"You built this today?" Sören's face lights up.
Anthony nods, grinning, proud of himself.
Sören hugs him tight and spins him around. He can't wait to try it out.
And that is exactly what they do - Anthony built wrist and ankle restraints into the X-shaped cross, and Anthony flogs Sören's back, ass, and thighs, then slides the Wartenberg wheel up and down Sören's sensitized flesh while Sören is still shackled to the cross, splashing with hot wax here, caressing with ice there... kissing, licking, and nibbling. By the time Sören is unfettered, and Anthony leads him back to the bed on the leash, he can feel how soaked his thighs are with his own cream, and Anthony growls as he gets a good look at it, once Sören is spread out on the bed.
Anthony holds Sören's leash and spends a long time just licking him slowly, teasing, as Sören whimpers, panting, trying to keep it down. They fall into a sixty-nine, passionately sucking each other, tongue-fucking, fingering, and Sören comes hard, squirting on Anthony's face, which triggers Anthony's own release.
For their next round, Anthony straddles him, and with one of Sören's legs on his shoulders, still holding onto the leash, Anthony fucks him, cock rubbing cock, boypussy lips kissing, hot and wet for each other, sloppy smacking sounds rising above their soft cries, finding that perfect rhythm together where they stay lost in their fuck as long as possible, not able to get enough of the delicious, sweet teasing. Sören goes mad with lust for the sight of Anthony's body in motion, chest hair damp with sweat...
...and he wonders what it would be like to do this with Mark. For Mark to fuck him just like this, Mark's cock on his. For him to take Mark himself, fucking him, while Anthony sits on Mark's face.
Sören comes even harder, biting his hand to muffle his scream, as Anthony cries out, squirting into him, making Sören squirt back at him. It's one of his hottest orgasms ever, and the full-body release gives way to deep bliss... and that ache. A twinge of guilt for thinking about Mark this way. Wanting him.
Wanting to be Mark's living cuddle buddy, not wanting Mark to sleep alone, be alone.
He knows that these feelings don't just have the potential to ruin his friendship with Mark, but also it might hurt his relationship with Anthony, which would be like having a piece of his soul ripped out.
But just like the rain falling outside, there's no on-off switch for his feelings. Sören just hopes he can contain the flood before it washes everything away.
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