They have a nice long weekend, taking off from Thanksgiving all the way to Tuesday the thirtieth, and then on December first it's back to work as usual. The shop is busier now that people are buying for the holidays - books never go out of fashion - and with it, the cafe has more activity. Wednesday and Thursday pass by in a blur, and Friday is their busiest day yet.
As there's a lull in customers on Friday afternoon, Anthony, Sören and Mark have some coffee in the front of the store, and Anthony's cell phone goes off. Anthony's eyes widen as he checks. "It's Mum."
Anthony wanders off to the back of the store to take the call, and a customer comes in to buy some young adult books and Mark waits on her. After the customer is gone, Anthony comes around to the front again, his face drawn with concern - Mark can feel Anthony broadcasting that the conversation is intensely difficult - and Anthony says, "One moment, Mum?" He lowers his phone and whispers, "I'm closing the shop for an hour." Before Mark or Sören can respond, Anthony walks out, resuming the conversation, and flips the CLOSED sign on the door; Sören goes over to lock the door behind him.
There's a long, awkward silence where Sören and Mark just look at each other - Mark gets the sense Sören, too, knows something is very wrong, and Sören confirms that by scowling, his brow furrowed.
"Not good," Sören says.
"Yeah." Mark sighs. "Poor Anthony, whatever it is."
"Jæja." Sören folds his arms, rocks back on his heels, and heaves a deep sigh.
Mark walks over to give Sören a hug, and they lean on each other for a moment, gathering strength for whatever it might be, knowing Anthony will need them later.
They take advantage of the break to go down to the nook by the sci-fi/fantasy section where there are two leather armchairs and a small coffee table with old magazines; Sören gets out his tablet and works on art, and Mark attempts to re-read one of the TekWars books by William Shatner, but every now and again they pause and look at each other, and eventually those pauses get longer and more frequent and it's obvious neither of them can concentrate on what they're doing, both worried about Anthony.
Finally, after their eyes meet again, Sören looks away, and his jaw trembles. Sören covers his mouth and closes his eyes, but he can't hold back the tears, and Mark puts down his book and comes to him. He drops on his knees before Sören and pulls him close. Sören shakes, weeping quietly as the tears start, then less quietly, sobbing on Mark's shoulder.
"I feel so fucking helpless," Sören chokes out. "Poor Anthony -"
"I know, elskan," Mark says - the Icelandic word just slips out, but it feels right to call Sören that. Sören looks up into Mark's eyes and tries to smile at the endearment in his native language... and then he cries even harder, as if that was the final chip at the dam holding back the flood. Mark holds him tight and rocks him, petting him, holding back his own tears - aching for Anthony, also feeling helpless... sympathizing with Sören's feeling of powerlessness.
Mark is reminded of when Finwë died, the Silmarils stolen - Fëanor's reconciliation with Finwë all too late, getting precious little time with him before Morgoth's evil. Mark remembers the mortals he's loved and lost over the thousands of years he's wandered Middle-Earth alone - Anthony's mother is a boomer in her early seventies, which is old for humans and barely a drop in the bucket for the Eldar. Anthony himself is forty-one, and Mark tries not to think about Anthony and Sören's eventual mortality.
Or having to leave, well before then, when he can't pretend to be young anymore. He's hoping to put that off as long as possible. That's presuming they won't make him leave if they eventually discover he's not human, and that too, he's hoping to hide as long as he can.
Mark makes himself focus on the present - on comforting Sören with his sensitive, loving heart. He kisses Sören's tears, rains kisses over Sören's face... then their lips meet. A couple of sweet pecks later, their tongues are in each other's mouths, teasing, and Mark feels the passion rising. He thinks of seducing Fëanor, comforting Fëanor with his body during those long, lonely nights at Formenos, and in the rage and grief after Finwë was gone and Fëanor watched his life turning to ashes, before he became ashes himself. The same sort of fire burns in Sören, kissing Mark deeply, hungrily. In the face of contemplating death, they need to feel life. They need to share that unquenchable fire, that invincible sun.
Mark gives Sören another deep, passionate kiss, feeling that thrust in his loins, that urge to rut with his mate. He gets up, takes Sören's hands, pulls Sören to his feet, and they cling to each other, kissing again.
They can't go upstairs - Anthony is up there talking to his mother. Mark leads Sören towards the cafe, kissing him all the way, hands sliding up and down Sören's back, cupping and rubbing Sören's ass. Once they're in the empty cafe, Mark fumbles with the button and zipper of Sören's jeans, and peels off his own long-sleeved thermal shirt before pulling off Sören's flannel shirt and the T-shirt underneath. "Let's start a show for Anthony when he comes back," Mark says - he knows it won't fix things, but he hopes it'll provide a little stress relief.
Their clothes pool on the tile floor, and Mark marches Sören back towards the counter, which is long enough for them to lay on. They kiss all the way there, caressing each other, and as they get closer to the counter Mark sticks his fingers in Sören's mouth and kisses and licks Sören's sensitive neck as Sören sucks his fingers, moaning. Every step of the way Mark admires Sören's gorgeous lithe body, the ink and piercings, the lush lips, the soft curls to his shoulders, the lust in those sweet brown eyes.
Sören climbs up on the counter and gives Mark a naughty grin as he lays back. Mark climbs up and over him, and they share another deep, hot, fierce, needy kiss as Mark hooks Sören's right leg over himself, straddling and mounting. Mark's breath hitches and Sören cries out as their cunts kiss, feeling how wet they are for each other already.
They fit together so deliciously, cock to cock, lips to lips, nipples on nipples, skin to skin. They get lost together in that dreamy haze of pleasure, savoring each moment of rubbing together slowly, sensually, kissing, licking each other's tongues... stroking each other just right.
But the teasing builds and after awhile they rub together harder, faster. Mark leans up, Sören's leg on his shoulder, their pussies smacking together as Mark fucks him and Sören rocks his hips, giving it right back. Sören's hands slide down Mark's chest and stomach and back up, feeling his muscles, and Mark trembles at Sören's touch, starved for it, not able to get enough.
"More," Sören begs, working his hips faster, the wet suctioning, slapping getting louder. "Oh god, more, give me more, more, more, moremoremore..."
Mark grits his teeth, riding harder, almost undone by Sören begging for more, the wet sloppy sounds, the frenzied rhythm of cock exciting cock, sizzling together. He fights back his orgasm, wanting to make Sören come first.
"More, more!" Sören bites his lip and whimpers, bucking madly. "More, more... moremoremore, give me more, more..."
Anthony walks in to witness Mark and Sören rubbing together frantically, right there on the counter of the cafe, Sören crying out "more, more" as their pussies smack, slurp, squish louder and louder. Sören's nails dig into Mark's sides. "More, more, moremoremoremoremore, give me more, give me more, more..."
Anthony's jaw drops and he lets out a shuddery little sigh. Sören glances over and bats his eyes with an innocent smile that isn't innocent at all. "Hi, Daddy," Sören coos.
"You fucking sluts," Anthony breathes, trying to look annoyed but his eyes are smiling back. "I can't take a call for twenty minutes without you sluts going at it."
"Oops." Sören crinkles his nose and bites his lower lip, then rocks his hips back at Mark as hard and fast as he can, Mark giving in and fucking Sören for all he's worth. "More, more, more..."
Mark growls. He's so close, but he needs Sören to come too. He grabs a handful of Sören's curls as Anthony watches, and leans in to kiss him hard, teasing them both by slowing down the rubbing as they kiss - Sören whines with frustration. When Mark leans up and his pussy starts slapping Sören's again, Anthony pulls up a chair and sits down and starts playing with himself. That makes it even hotter.
"More," Sören begs. "More, fuck me, more, more, fuck me, fuck me, more, moremoremore..."
And then Sören can't make words anymore, just panting, gasping, whimpering, as their cunts mash together and make filthy suctioning noises. Mark pulls Sören's hair harder, and he sticks the fingers of his free hand in Sören's mouth. Sören comes, contracting against him, gushing, making an adorable little squeak around the fingers in his mouth. Then Anthony walks up close to them, pawing himself madly, and cries out as he squirts all over them and Mark loses it, climaxing hard with a fierce cry, throbbing so intensely, wet and messy.
Anthony and Mark kiss, and Mark shivers as his cunt pulses again, then Anthony leans down and kisses Sören. He offers his wet hand to Sören, who licks his palm and sucks his fingers, then Anthony and Sören rub their tongues together before Mark leans down to kiss Sören, tasting Anthony on him.
Anthony laughs and gives Mark's ass a hard swat. "OK, sluts. Playtime's over, we need to get back to work."
Mark and Sören get dressed and linger for a moment, holding each other and sharing a few last tender, sensual kisses - a promise of more later. Then they wipe down the counter - laughing at the puddle of their juices - and come out to the front of the shop - Anthony hasn't flipped the OPEN sign yet.
"So..." Sören shifts his weight from one foot to the other, all anxious brown eyes.
Anthony sighs. "Right." He sits down behind the counter, folds his arms for a moment, and looks down, then looks up - tears in his eyes. "Mum has to cancel coming for Christmas. The chemo's been really hard on her - she's lost so much weight, I took a video call and she looks horrible, she looks like she barely weighs eight stone, and her doctor has advised her against traveling, saying she's immunocompromised."
Sören nods solemnly. Mark isn't really surprised, but he can feel the crushing weight of Anthony's disappointment.
"I would like to fly out to her in London for Christmas, but one, we can't afford plane tickets to London on such short notice, two, risk of COVID or even just flu which puts her essentially at risk of death, three, I don't want to ask Mark to stay behind by himself for Christmas to watch the cats." Anthony looks at them and blinks back tears.
Mark comes over and hugs Anthony tight. "You know, you can dock my pay for the next month. Your mother isn't well, I'll understand if you need to fly out there -"
"No." Anthony shakes his head and sets his jaw, and Mark is reminded of the same steel in Finarfin during the War of Wrath. "Even if I stopped paying you this month, which doesn't sit right with me, it wouldn't be enough to cover travel expenses, and there would still be the risk of me passing on COVID, cold or flu to her from all the exposure to other people at the airport, the plane, and getting around London. I'm just going to have to suck it up and try to get out there to see her in March, when COVID cases start going down again, and even that is a lot of money, I'm probably going to have to ask my uncle Nigel for help, I hate that, but what can you do."
Mark nods, and pats him. Then Sören comes over and squeezes Anthony, and Anthony finally falls apart, and Sören cries with him. They cling, rocking each other, sobbing, and Mark holds both of them, feeling that ache in his chest, wishing so much he could make it better somehow.
"I love you," Mark says softly.
Anthony gives him a little kiss. "I love you too." Then he smirks. "You smell cunty."
Mark can't help laughing at that, and Sören cracks up through his tears. Anthony sniffs Sören and says, "You too."
Sören bites his lower lip and Anthony growls and smacks Sören's ass.
"Are you sure you want to re-open the shop?" Sören asks, putting his hands on his hips, looking worried again; Mark can't blame him for that, asking himself the same thing. "You're really shaken up -"
Anthony waves his hand dismissively. "We can't afford to lose business right now, so yeah. I'll deal."
Sören makes a "wait here" gesture, and then he runs out of the shop, door banging, bells chiming behind him. Five minutes later Sören comes back in, grabs Anthony, and starts dragging him across the shop, gesturing for Mark to follow.
Sören marches Anthony into the single occupancy restroom, and Mark follows. With the door closed behind them, Sören pulls out a bong and lights up. Anthony leans against the wall, shaking with laughter, and Mark chuckles - he hasn't hotboxed in a bathroom since the seventies, not that he'll tell them that.
They pass the bong around, giggling at the ridiculousness of hotboxing at work, and when they're done, Sören takes it back upstairs and Anthony sprays the bathroom with air freshener, though the smell of marijuana lingers. At least weed is fully legal in Maine.
Finally, they open, and Anthony puts on music - Nirvana, the angsty grunge rock of his youth. Mark gives Anthony another hug, and as Anthony leans against him Mark closes his eyes and though he's never met Anthony's mother, he can still feel it in the Song: Elaine's going to die soon. Exactly when is hard to say - weeks, a couple months, perhaps - but Mark can sense it coming, like a storm.
He hopes he and Sören are big enough to be the wall against the tidal surge, when it happens.
After the long day they've had, Mark insists on paying for pizza. They get veggie pizzas delivered, with breadsticks. Anthony drinks prune juice with his, making a face with each swallow of prune juice.
Sören notices and when Anthony pours himself a second glass of prune juice, Sören clears his throat. "I was going to ask if you've developed a taste for it now, but the look on your face says no. ...You're still backed up, já?"
Anthony nods. "Yupppppp." He purses his lips and looks away.
It's been at least a few weeks now. Mark opens his mouth, then remembers Anthony is in fact going to a doctor next week, and then Sören says what Mark was going to say. "You should bring it up at the doctor." Sören bites into a slice of pizza like it's personally wronged him.
"I will," Anthony says. "Granted, I'm going for, you know, a downstairs exam, but yeah, I'll mention it." He chugs prune juice, looking awkward.
The weight of Elaine taking a turn for the worse - and Anthony being unwell - hangs over them, the painful silence deafening. When they've finished their pizza, Anthony goes off to take a shower, and after a few minutes Mark can hear him crying in the shower down the hall, and so can Sören.
Sören gets up, and Mark sits there and listens as Sören soothes Anthony in the bathroom. Mark wants to join them in the shower, aching to be there for them, but he runs the risk of exposing his ears if he does, and he's trying to postpone the inevitable as long as he possibly can. While Sören and Anthony have been wonderfully accepting of everything thus far - his homelessness, his transness - he doesn't know if coming out as non-human will be a dealbreaker, especially when it means having to come out about how much of what he's told them about his life is fiction, and that his reality is in fact someone else's fiction, knowing how unbelievable "I'm really a Tolkien elf" will sound.
Mark sighs. He justifies holding back by telling himself Sören and Anthony need some alone time, since they were married for four years before he came along.
When Mark hears Sören and Anthony in the bedroom, he finally goes to them. He tries to lighten the mood by giving an appreciative whistle at both of them naked.
"Slut," Anthony says.
Mark grins. "Thank you."
Anthony glances over at Sören, who's also grinning. He smacks Sören's ass, then Mark's. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you two are related," Anthony says.
"That would be wrong," Sören says, and then he bites his lower lip, a naughty look on his face, and adds, "...and kind of hot."
Mark's jaw drops - he should be used to Sören being Sören by now, and it reminds him so much of Fëanor - and he laughs, tickled by Sören's reaction. Anthony cackles, and then he swats Sören's ass again.
Then Anthony leans in and sniffs Sören. "Even though you washed, I swear I can still smell cunt on you."
"Good," Sören teases.
Anthony leers at Mark. "I can't believe you two, fucking on the counter like that. So naughty."
"Maybe you should make us behave," Mark says.
Their eyes lock and Anthony gives Mark a pointed look, letting him know without words he takes that deadly serious. And Mark means it - Sören and Anthony have been restrained in their BDSM games since they became a triad, as if they're afraid of scaring Mark away, but he wants this.
Mark undresses, and once he's naked, he comes closer. "I bet you can still smell it on me," Mark whispers.
Anthony's breath catches and Mark smiles. He steals a kiss, and then another, and then he kisses Sören, too. He turns back to Anthony and says, "You've been so stressed out lately, no wonder you're backed up. Maybe you'd feel better if... you know. You take it out on me."
Anthony raises his eyebrows. "You know what you're asking for, right?"
Mark nods slowly. Their eyes meet again. "I trust you," Mark says. "If you want to punish me for being a slut with your husband while you were on the phone... I deserve it." His heart beats faster, his body thrilling to the idea of surrendering to Anthony's power, just like he once had to Finarfin.
Anthony leans back just a little, as if he's stunned by Mark's request, and then he laughs delightedly and kisses Mark hard.
Anthony and Mark take turns kissing Sören, and then Anthony takes them by the hand and leads them over to the St. Andrew's cross against the wall. "Which one of you sluts is going first?" Anthony asks.
Sören shoves Mark against the cross, making them all laugh. Then Sören marches over to the drawer where they keep their kink supplies and Mark watches as Sören takes out a cat o' nine tails flogger. Sören brings it over to Anthony, and he kneels and Anthony presents the flogger to Sören's lips to kiss. Then Anthony hands the flogger back to Sören, and turns Mark around so that his back is to them, and Anthony shackles Mark to the cross.
"I'm going to give you ten lashes," Anthony says. "If you need to stop, the safeword is Waldenbooks." Sören gigglesnorts.
Mark smirks, and he can't resist pulling a Sören... pulling a Fëanor. "Hi Going To Give You Ten Lashes If You Need -"
The leather tails sting Mark's left ass cheek and he lets out a yelp. Then the flogger thuds against Mark's right ass cheek and Mark cries out again. The stinging and deep thump radiate through his body and Mark gasps for breath. His cunt feels like it's on fire, dripping down his thighs, as the pain intensifies his arousal... the pain transmuted to pleasure.
Anthony gives Mark a moment to recover and then the flogger thuds Mark's left ass cheek, and the tails slap Mark's right ass cheek, pain shooting. Mark's fists clench and he feels the cross rattle as his body trembles involuntarily, thighs quivering, knees buckling - if the shackles weren't holding him up, he'd fall over.
Anthony brushes Mark's hair aside - Mark can still feel his hair covering his ears and breathes a small sigh of relief - and then the flogger moves to Mark's upper back, two thumps, two slaps. The pleasure-pain sears across his flesh and throbs through his bones, and Mark's breath comes out in shuddery gasps, more cream dripping from him, fighting the urge to try to rub himself against the cross.
The last two strikes from the flogger are against the back of his thighs. Mark screams - it stings most of all here, but it's so good.
Anthony unshackles Mark and holds him for a moment, stroking his hair, and then he gently walks Mark over to the bed. Mark lays down, feeling like he's floating, and watches Anthony shackle Sören to the cross. Sören takes his ten strikes like a pro - Anthony hits Sören harder than he hit Mark, and Sören's cries get Mark hotter and hotter, touching himself as he watches Sören slip into subspace, surrendering to Anthony's domination. When Sören comes out of the shackles he has a beatific smile on his face, like he's having a religious experience, and Mark sighs at the beauty of it.
Sören lays on the bed and Anthony joins them, sitting on the edge of the bed. He takes Mark over his knee. "Now you get spankings," Anthony says.
Anthony spanks Mark ten times, five for each ass cheek. There's a surprising amount of power in Anthony's hand and with Mark's ass already stinging and throbbing from the flogger, the spanking feels overwhelmingly intense, but in a good way. When Mark watches Sören over Anthony's knee, and Sören starts begging "more, Daddy, more," grinding himself on Anthony's thigh, Mark touches himself again. By the time Sören's spankings are done Mark is viciously pawing himself, so creamy, sloppy wet.
"I didn't say you could touch yourself. You are a fucking slut," Anthony growls, and slaps Mark's hand away. He shoves Sören on top of Mark. "Keep him still."
"Yes, Daddy." Sören giggles and rubs noses with Mark, who laughs back and kisses the tip of Sören's nose.
Anthony goes over to the drawer of kinky toys and comes back with a length of black velvet rope, in time to see Sören and Mark making out and playing with each other's pussies. They suck their cream off each other's fingers as Anthony arrives at the bed.
"Sluts," Anthony says, amusement in his voice. "What did I fucking say?"
Sören bats his eyes at Anthony. "You said he couldn't touch himself. You didn't say I couldn't."
Anthony smacks Sören's ass again, then he pushes Sören away from Mark, and he holds the rope in front of Mark. "I'm going to tie you up now."
Mark smiles. "Hi Going To Tie You Up Now."
Sören doubles over, giggling hysterically, as Anthony rolls his eyes. "The two of you are too fucking much. Seriously, it's like you're related." Anthony shakes his head.
Anthony takes each of Mark's arms and binds his wrists through the slots in the headboard. When Mark is securely tied, Anthony has Mark try to move his arms to test the knots and make sure they're neither too lose nor too tight. Both satisfied, Anthony slaps Mark's pussy, making Mark cry out, almost coming, and then Anthony turns to Sören and kisses him hard. As Anthony and Sören kiss, Anthony fumbles around in the drawer of the bedtable, and Mark watches as Anthony pulls out a remote-controlled bullet vibe, like the kind that gay couple from Indiana was playing with in the shop back in October. Anthony nestles the bullet against Mark's cock and turns it on to its lowest setting. "You better not come until I tell you to," Anthony snarls.
Anthony goes back to making out with Sören, both of them moaning. Mark moans too as he watches them kiss and caress, then they keep kissing as they play with each other's pussies, every now and again kissing open-mouthed with their tongues rubbing together, taking turns licking and sucking their juices from each other's fingers before licking tongues some more, kissing more deeply, sensually.
Mark lays there bound and helpless, the vibe purring away at his aching, urgent cock, as Anthony and Sören fall into a sixty-nine, licking and sucking each other's cocks, tongue-fucking each other, slurping away, moaning and grunting and growling into each other's cunts, hungry for each other. Anthony and Sören make each other come, and then they make out again, sharing the taste of each other, sucking on each other's tongues, playing with each other again, getting ready for another round.
Mark still lays there, tied up, made to watch, the vibe teasing him mercilessly as Anthony rides Sören, fucking him hard, Sören's right leg on Anthony's shoulder like it was on Mark's shoulder that afternoon in the cafe. Anthony grunts and growls, his hand on Sören's throat as he takes what's his, and Sören bucks against him frantically, whimpering. "More," Sören begs. "More, Daddy, more, Daddy, more, more..."
Mark is right there, so close to coming, but he makes himself keep holding back, not wanting to defy Anthony's order. The vibe builds the pleasure and tension higher and higher, coiling tighter and tighter, ready to explode, as Sören begs "more, more," and Anthony breathes harder, working his hips faster, their pussies smacking together, sloshing, so deliciously sloppy. Mark hears himself whimper as the vibe gets him closer and closer and closer.
Sören's eyes widen and he makes a desperate high-pitched noise, his nails raking Anthony's chest. "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, oh god, Daddy, you're gonna make me come..."
"That's it, baby." Anthony growls and leans in to lick Sören's face like a wild animal, before their tongues take a few playful licks. "Come for Daddy, baby. Come for Daddy, you little slut."
"Daddy! Daddy! Oh, Pabbi, fuck!" Sören shakes and his toes curl and he makes another high-pitched noise, biting his lip. A half-dozen squishing thrusts later Anthony cries out as he comes, shuddering against Sören, panting before he kisses Sören deeply. Sören throws his arms around Anthony and his legs wrap around Anthony too, holding him with all four limbs. Anthony sighs and kisses Sören again and again, stroking Sören's face and hair, looking at him with such tenderness before another sweet kiss, that it brings tears to Mark's eyes.
It's like watching Fëanor and Finarfin all over again. Mark closes his eyes, remembering the light. The way his father and uncle worshiped each other, that special magic between them. Mark opens his eyes and moans as he keeps fighting the mounting orgasm. Anthony and Sören are almost like having that once more, much more than any of his previous mortal lovers. That, too, is pain and pleasure combined, become one.
When Anthony is recovered, he turns off the vibe, takes it away from Mark's cunt, and then he has Sören lick and suck it clean. Anthony kisses Mark - who moans at the taste of Sören on Anthony's mouth - and then, with Mark still bound, Anthony mounts him.
Sören watches, allowed to use the vibe on himself as Anthony fucks Mark. Anthony makes Mark beg like Sören begged underneath him in the cafe. "More," Mark moans, feeling shameless and wanton - making him all the more needy, rocking his hips, fucking Anthony right back. "More, more..."
"That's it, you fucking slut," Anthony growls, pulling Mark's hair. "You're mine."
"More! More, more, more..." Mark bites his lower lip and whines like Sören does - like Fëanor did, like he himself did with Finarfin so long ago - so close, right there, but he holds back, wanting to give his pleasure to Anthony at the appointed time. "More, more..."
Their pussies make filthy slurping sounds as Anthony fucks him harder, and the vibe makes wet suctioning sounds as Sören strokes himself with it furiously, whimpering. Then Anthony splits Mark like a peach, and his cock slips into Mark's cunt. Mark cries out, feeling the tiny flutters of a small orgasm, and Anthony slaps Mark's cock as he works in and out of him, his hard little cock stroking Mark's G-spot like a finger.
Anthony grabs a handful of Sören's curls and drags him over, and Sören lowers his face between Mark's leg and licks and sucks at Mark's cock as Anthony's cock keeps sliding in and out of Mark's pussy. "More," Mark begs them, needing to come so badly but never wanting them to stop touching him, pleasing him, taking care of him. "More, more, moremoremore, more, give me more..."
Mark begs until he can't make words anymore, only broken cries, and Sören sucks him hard, slurping noisily as Anthony fucks away. At last Mark's eyes meet Anthony's and the look of fierce, hungry lust on Anthony's face almost sets Mark off. Anthony seems to sense how close Mark is and he reaches down to pinch Mark's nipples. "Come."
Mark lets go, screaming as his cock twitches in Sören's mouth and his cunt squeezes Anthony's cock. Anthony comes too with a little whimper and a gasp, panting, and then Sören gives a shout and rolls over, spasming. Mark laughs, euphoric - coming and coming and coming.
Mark floats and drifts, vaguely aware of Anthony untying him, his body entwined with Sören's and Anthony's, the three of them holding each other, clinging together. For now things are calm, and Mark lets himself just rest and be, trying not to worry about the near future or distant future. For now he has a home. For now he has a family. For now he has all that he needs, and he lets himself bask in that light and that warmth, where he can almost forget about the dark times behind and ahead.
For now he has joy, for the first time in too long. For now he belongs.
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