On Tuesday the seventh, Anthony has his gynecologist appointment and Sören comes with him. Sören had gotten on him last week to talk to the doctor about the constipation, and after reporting that symptom the doctor asked him to drink a liter of water an hour before the appointment because there would be an ultrasound along with a pelvic exam.
There is a long silence on the way home. Anthony is triggered - the pelvic exam was unpleasant enough, the ultrasound added to the dysphoria, and the clerk at the desk referred to it as a "Well Woman Exam" - and Sören knows Anthony is wound up and needs his space, but Sören fidgets anxiously in the passenger seat, and when they stop at an electric vehicle charging station, Anthony steps out of the car to get some fresh air and Sören ducks out and finally says, "Please tell me it's not cancer."
"Well, no, they haven't done a biopsy, they can't diagnose cancer without that." Anthony purses his lips and looks down. "But it's something else. We'll talk when I get home." Mark needs to hear this, too.
Anthony urgently needs to pee from having drank so much water for the ultrasound, but the look on Mark's face when they get in makes him hold back and he sits down on the couch instead. Mark has made tea without being asked, and Anthony accepts it even though he knows it's going to make the need to urinate even worse. There's another long, painfully awkward pause, as Anthony gathers his thoughts - trying not to go off at the indignity of hearing "Well Woman" right at the front desk, which almost made him turn around and leave - and finally Anthony finds his words to talk about what the ultrasound discovered.
"I have severe fibroids," Anthony says. "I used to get absolutely horrific periods before I went on T, and then my period stopped. I tried to go to a gyno a few times about the terrible periods and was always told it was normal, and just take some ibuprofen and use a heating pad, even though that didn't do a fucking thing, I was treated like a bloody junkie for needing something stronger for the pain. I had fucking anemia from my periods and it was still considered 'normal'." Anthony's fingers make air quotes, and he can feel himself sneering with contempt at being gaslighted by doctors for years. He goes on. "Anyway, because I haven't had a period in years, I didn't know that the fibroids were getting worse. Apparently, that's what's causing my constipation, it's gotten that bad."
"Holy shit." Sören lets out a low whistle.
"Fuck." Mark's jaw drops.
Anthony nods, letting them take that in. Then he leans back. "So... I'm getting a hysterectomy."
You can hear a pin drop, and then Sören says, "Hi Getting A Hysterectomy, I'm Sören."
Anthony facepalms hard and cracks up laughing - he needed that, after the hell that was today - and then he tries to get himself under control, not wanting to piss his pants. "Dammit, Sören."
"Sorry," Sören says, with a look that says he isn't sorry at all.
"Brat." Anthony's going to spank him later, but he knows that's what Sören was going for. He racks his brain for the terminology that was used, returning briefly to "lawyer mode" when he had to use some Latin legal phrases; medical isn't so far off. Anthony finds it. "Specifically, I'm having a total hysterectomy with a bilateral salpingo-oophorectomy. That means they're taking bloody everything - uterus, cervix, fallopian tubes and ovaries, because of my first-degree family history of cancer. I was asked why I didn't have a hysto when I transitioned, and the thing is I'd bloody asked for one back then and was told 'oh well you know, you're only thirty-three, you might want kids someday.' Like they didn't understand I'd had an abortion because pregnancy makes me suicidally bloody fucking dysphoric."
"Jesus fucking Christ." Sören scowls, looking ready to kill.
"God," Mark says. "I don't even know what to say."
"I don't either. I'm... relieved that they know what it is and it's being handled, and I won't have to worry about the kind of cancer my mum's got. But it's also a reminder of being assigned female at birth and it's dredging up the dysphoric ick -" Anthony cringes, fighting back angry tears.
"And there was that asshole at the office," Sören says. He looks over at Mark and explains, "The secretary fucking called it a 'Well Woman Exam' even though Anthony's explained to death he's transmasc."
"I'm going to complain," Anthony says, nodding. "Later. I... one thing at a time." He takes a few deep breaths. "This is a lot."
Mark comes over and joins Sören and Anthony on the couch, and the three of them hug each other.
Anthony finishes his tea, and Mark and Sören give him some more silence, some more time to sit with the weight of it all. Then Mark asks, "When is the hysterectomy happening?"
"We're aiming for March," Anthony says. "I would do it sooner but not only do they need time to schedule it, but I'll be laid up for six weeks - you guys are going to have to run the shop - and I don't want that to interfere with plans to see my mum. I talked to my uncle Nigel and he's going to pay for me to fly out to London first week of March - he'll buy tickets closer to the date, even though that's more expensive, just in case something comes up where we have to change plans, like one of us gets sick - and then two weeks after I return and test clear for COVID, I can have the surgery."
"How long will you be in the hospital?" Sören asks.
"I want to come home that night but realistically they'll be keeping me at least one night, maybe two. Not looking forward to the hospital bills." Anthony makes a face.
"My offer to dock my pay still stands," Mark says.
"No." Anthony glares at him. "You're not a slave, Mark."
Mark leers. "Too bad."
Anthony's mouth opens - it still shocks him when Mark is as bad as Sören, even though they've been intimate with Mark for over a month now - and then he doubles over laughing again, and it hurts, but he can't help it. "You lot are horrible."
"Thank you," Mark and Sören say in unison.
Sören gets up and goes to the fridge and comes back with a Diet Pepsi for Anthony and Mark, and a Diet Mountain Dew for himself. The way Mark winces at the radioactive green soda makes Anthony chuckle. He laughs harder as Sören puts one of his neon crazy straws in the bottle, a needed touch of silliness.
"If you have any other questions for me, I'll tell you what I know," Anthony says.
"Are they going to let you keep it?" Sören cocks his head to one side.
"Keep... what."
"Your uterus, once it's out. Like, pickled in a jar or something."
Anthony almost spits his drink. "Why would I want to do that?"
"I don't know, you can... threaten or curse your enemies with it, like if that MAGA guy shows up again, or Bev Debussy."
Anthony's eyes tear up and he shakes with laughter again, his bladder urgent, but he can't make himself get up, needing to be near them. "Is that some weird Icelandic shit, like necropants?"
Sören furrows his brow. "I don't know why everyone thinks we Icelanders are all weirdos. That's just a stereotype." Sören starts blowing bubbles through the bendy straw into his Mountain Dew. "And anyway no, it's not from one of those old-timey magic books, it was just something I came up with myself."
"But Icelanders aren't weird."
"Nope." Sören resumes blowing bubbles.
Anthony laughs, harder, and Mark chuckles too. Then Mark looks at the clock, and back at Anthony. "I feel like I should give you two some time," Mark says.
"You're our partner too," Anthony says, and Sören nods - Anthony doesn't want Mark to feel like a third wheel.
"No, it's OK. Besides which... I was thinking about doing some busking in Portland to spread the holiday cheer and make a little extra money. I really do seriously want you to consider lowering or docking my pay for a month to help with bills -"
"No." Anthony glares. He's deeply touched by Mark's offer, and it would help, but it feels predatory to accept. "I won't say no to you busking, I know music is how you cope." Mark nods. "But I don't want you to feel obligated to use your money to try to help us, OK?"
Mark gives them a hug and a kiss before he takes off in his van - he'll be home by seven, and promises to bring Thai food back with him - and after Mark is gone, Sören holds Anthony close, squeezing him tight, petting him. "I love you, elskan," Sören husks. "We'll get through this."
Anthony takes Sören's hand and kisses it. "I love you so much, baby."
Sören bites his lower lip. "I think you could use a distraction. We both could. How about we decorate the place for Christmas?"
They were going to do that next week, but that sounds like fun. Anthony and Sören dig their boxes of Christmas decorations out of the hall closet and Sören puts on their playlist of Christmas music, starting with "Last Christmas" by Wham.
They put a wreath on the door, hang stockings and fairy lights, and set up the tree - both Anthony and Sören have too much empathy to get a real tree, knowing it will die - and the cats "help" by stealing ornaments and batting them around. Anthony tries to distract them with food and treats, but that just makes them do it more.
Sören has a collection of Icelandic Yule figurines - the thirteen Yule Lads, the giantess Grýla and her husband Leppalúði, and of course, Jólakötturinn. Sören has a recording of Björk - his third cousin - singing the Jólakötturinn song, and Sören sings along.
Þið kannist við jólaköttinn
Sá köttur var gríðarstór
Fólk vissi ekki hvaðan hann kom
Eða hvert hann fór...
Hearing Sören speak or sing in his native language of Icelandic always makes Anthony feel randy, and now is no exception, even though he's sore from the pelvic exam and the ultrasound. Anthony's body reminds him that as he gets up from kneeling to hang bottom ornaments, wincing.
"Awww, does it hurt down there?" Sören asks, patting him.
Anthony nods.
Sören smiles. "I can kiss it better, Daddy." Then he bites his lower lip and wrinkles his nose.
Anthony growls, feeling himself go hard and slick for his mate. "You teasing little minx."
Sören responds to that by turning around and giving him a sassy butt wiggle. Anthony smacks Sören's ass, and Sören lets out a breathy moan. Anthony's cunt twinges, wanting him - and then his bladder reminds him he still hasn't peed yet, thanks to being in ADD hyperfocus mode with the Christmas decorations. But instead of going to the bathroom, the gears turn in Anthony's head, plotting.
Anthony puts an arm around Sören. They've got about three hours before Mark gets back, which should be plenty of time. "What do you say we make a video, now that our place is all prettied up? We haven't in awhile, and I bet we could get some big tips for the holidays, which we need."
"And it would probably help you with the dysphoria," Sören says.
Anthony nods. He does like it rather a lot when he gets nice compliments about how handsome and masculine he is, especially from queer guys. He especially likes the compliments from that guy "SaintNick69" who gave them a two hundred dollar tip a couple months ago - just thinking about a hot silver daddy jerking himself off to them gets him even hornier.
"Maybe I should get prettied up too." Sören bites his lip again. "Would you like that, Daddy?"
"God, yes." Anthony loves it when Sören wears lingerie - the combination of Sören looking like a Viking warrior and feeling confident enough in his masculinity to wear lace and fishnets, softness and strength, drives him mad. He gives Sören a kiss.
While Sören gets dressed up, Anthony starts setting up the living room. He brings out their cameras, and piles up blankets and quilts as a makeshift bed. He puts a sheet on top, and then one of the sheet protectors that they use for wet and messy sex. They haven't been this messy since before the shop opened, and Anthony misses it, though he's not sure how Mark will react to this particular kink of theirs.
Anthony dims the lights, turns on the fairy lights, and then he arranges some candles and lanterns and lights those as well. He gets out the riding crop and handcuffs. When everything's ready, Sören comes out and Anthony's mouth waters at the sight of his beloved wearing his kitty ears, black lace crotchless panties with black garters, and black lace-trimmed fishnet thigh-highs.
"Fuckkkk," Anthony breathes.
Sören does a twirl, shakes his ass again, and then he cracks up laughing when he sees the mattress pad. "Is that for what I think it's for?"
Anthony nods solemnly. "If you're down."
"Fuck yes."
Anthony grins, and Sören comes over and gives him a deep, hungry kiss.
They turn the camera on, and Sören undresses Anthony with the camera rolling. Sören slides his hands over Anthony's naked body, fingers running through the chest hair. "You are so sexy, Daddy," Sören purrs, and kisses Anthony again.
"And you... are a naughty slut." Anthony kisses Sören back, harder, and then he roughly shoves Sören down on the bedding. "Santa told me to put your ass in line or you're not getting any presents this year."
Sören giggles - Anthony laughs too; they usually try to avoid doing cheesy "scenes" and get straight to the sex, though they did a pizza delivery roleplay once for April Fool's Day, including Anthony punishing Sören for bringing pizza with pineapple on it, which was hilarious and earned big tips. But this is goofy fun, which they need right now.
"Twenty lashes," Anthony says.
Sören nods, and wiggles his ass again.
Anthony takes the riding crop and it cracks down on Sören's left ass cheek. "One," Anthony counts; Sören moans. He slaps Sören's right ass cheek with the crop. "Two."
"Oh, Daddy..."
Anthony swats Sören's left ass cheek, harder. "Three."
"More, Daddy!"
Anthony growls and the crop smacks Sören's right ass cheek. "Four."
Sören whimpers and thrusts his ass out. "More, Daddy, more..."
"You aren't supposed to like being punished, you slutty brat." Of course, that's the point, and Anthony tries not to smile. His free hand grabs Sören's hair and pulls as the crop comes down on Sören's left ass cheek, even harder. "Five." Sören moans, and Anthony grits his teeth, pulling Sören's hair again as he slaps the right ass cheek. "Six."
By the time Anthony gets to twenty, Sören is rubbing himself and Anthony can feel cream dripping down his thighs. Sören's ass is deliciously rosy from the crop. "All red and Christmasy," Anthony says fondly, rubbing Sören's ass.
"There's some ho ho ho's in this house."
Anthony cracks up laughing, and then he spanks Sören's ass bare-handed. "Certified freak. Seven days a week." He can't believe he's quoting Cardi B on camera.
Sören rolls over and spreads so Anthony can see how wet he is, creamy and so engorged. "Now you're fucking with some wet-ass pussy." That sounds delightful in Sören's accent.
"I can make it even wetter." Anthony takes the cuffs, locks Sören's wrists in front of him, and then he kneels over Sören's cunt.
He finally pisses, spraying Sören's pussy with it - Sören howls with pleasure. Then he scoots up and lets out another blast of hot piss all over Sören's chest and stomach. He scoots up to Sören's face, grabs Sören by the hair, and pisses in Sören's face and Sören noisily laps it like he's drinking from a fountain. "Mmmmmmm. Mmmmmm." Sören licks his lips and keeps sipping at it. Anthony almost comes, electrified by how much Sören loves it.
When Anthony's done pissing - for now, that was a lot of water he had earlier - he pulls Sören's hair. "That's right." Anthony grabs Sören's collar. "You're mine."
He leans down to kiss Sören hard, tasting his salty brine on Sören's mouth, and then he spits in Sören's mouth, leans back up, and shoves his cunt in Sören's face. "Lick it clean, slut."
Sören does as he's told, viciously devouring him, lashing his tongue wildly, sucking hard, slurping, shaking his head back and forth, moaning into Anthony's cunt. Those lush lips and talented tongue feel incredible, and Anthony rocks his hips, fucking Sören's face, which makes Sören moan louder. "That's it, you little piss slut," Anthony snarls, pulling on Sören's collar, yanking his hair. "Show me what a slut you are for Daddy's piss."
Sören whimpers and slurps harder, louder. Anthony bucks madly, going out of his mind with lust. He rides Sören's face, savoring the feel of those lips, that tongue, knowing just how to lick and suck his cock. He's so close, and he tries to hold back just a little longer, needing to feel that hunger in Sören, that worship, spoiling him after the terrible morning he's had, getting lost in that place where nothing exists but that delicious sensation of Sören's mouth pleasuring him. But finally the flutters start and Anthony goes off, crying out as he climaxes, his cock throbbing hard as Sören's lips suction it.
"Oh, fuuuuck." Anthony shudders and pulls back, too sensitive. He keeps contracting, and his cream gushes on Sören's face.
"Ooh, Daddy." Sören licks his lips. "You make me so horny, Daddy."
"You're always horny, you little slut." Anthony leans down to kiss Sören again, tasting himself.
The intense orgasm makes Anthony have to pee again, and he decides not to let it go to waste. After a few more kisses - and rubbing their tongues together, teasing - Anthony slides down and kneels over Sören's cunt again. Once more, he pisses on and in Sören's cunt. Sören squeals and whimpers, and starts begging "please, Daddy, please Daddy fuck me, please, Daddy, please..."
Anthony props Sören's right leg on his shoulder, and their cocks touch, their boypussy lips kiss. They both cry out at that moment of connection, so intimate. Then Anthony starts to rub, and Sören rolls his hips, rubbing back. Slow, sensual grinding quickly becomes hard, fast, animalistic, rutting frenziedly, panting for it, Anthony's grunts and snarls and Sören's whimpers and broken cries over the rhythm of wet, sloppy cunts smacking together, slurping, sloshing. Sören begs "More, Daddy, more... more, Daddy, give me more, more, give me your hot fucking man cunt, fuck me, more..."
Anthony goes out of his mind with lust, bucking feverishly. This morning seems light years away as Anthony works his hips, fucking Sören as hard as he can, their pussies louder and louder. Anthony growls and grabs Sören's collar. "Take it," Anthony rasps. "Fucking take it, you little slut..."
"More, Daddy! More, Daddy, more! More, more! More, Daddy... more, Daddy, more, Daddy, Daddy, give me more..."
Suddenly Mark walks in - he's early. Anthony can't stop rubbing, too far gone, but he looks over his shoulder to see Mark standing there with a bag of Thai food, looking stunned, and Anthony can't tell if it's the obviously wet mattress pad or the cameras, or both.
Mark nonchalantly walks to the kitchen counter, puts the bag on it, and then he disappears down the hall, while Sören and Anthony keep fucking.
Anthony briefly considers stopping the cameras and checking on him - once again, not wanting Mark to feel like a third wheel - but he needs to come and so does Sören. They need to get paid. Anthony gets back in the zone, fucking Sören hard, as Sören keeps begging "more, Daddy, don't stop, don't fucking stop, don't ever stop, Daddy, more, I need more, I want more, Daddy, more..."
And then Sören can't make words, only squeaking, gasping, and Anthony knows Sören is close. "Come for me, you fucking slut," Anthony growls.
Sören comes hard, screaming - Anthony can feel Sören's cunt contracting against his - and Anthony comes too with a little cry and a shuddery sigh, coming harder than before, such delicious pulsing euphoria. "Oh, god, I love you," Anthony moans, meaning it with all of his heart, melting at the joy on Sören's face.
"I love you."
They catch their breath, then Anthony sinks down and kisses Sören deeply. He unlocks the cuffs and Sören wraps his arms around Anthony, giggling, rubbing noses. They kiss and kiss, and then Anthony shuts off the camera.
"We have a lot of explaining to do, I think," Sören says, glancing over at the camera, and then at Anthony.
"Yeppppp." Anthony rubs his face like an annoyed wet cat. He knows he couldn't put off the OnlyFans conversation forever, but now feels like the worst possible time.
But they might as well clear the air. "Time to face the music," Anthony says, getting up.
Once the living room is cleaned up, with the mattress pad and bedding in the wash, and Anthony and Sören are in their pajamas and the Thai food has been served, Mark joins them. There is yet another awkward silence and Sören puts on Joy of Painting to try to dial down some of the tension.
When they're done eating, Mark gives them that look that says it's time and Anthony and Sören look at each other. Sören makes a "go ahead" gesture at Anthony, who spent more than a decade having to argue cases in court.
"OK." Anthony exhales. "Mark, I'm sorry for not telling you this sooner, but Sören and I do OnlyFans."
Mark raises an eyebrow. "What's OnlyFans?" Then he grins, amused with himself. "Is it like vore?"
Anthony cracks up - laughing even harder with the flood of relief that if Mark can make a joke, he's probably not upset with them. Then Anthony gets serious. "OnlyFans is a site best known for people posting sexually explicit photos and videos for subscribers. Not all of the content on the site is explicit, or even sexual, there are some celebrities and influencers who use the site for branding, but most of it is porn, it has a reputation as a porn site."
"So you guys do porn, and that's why I saw the cameras."
Anthony nods. "It started during the pandemic, when the shop was closed because we didn't have a cafe then and thus we weren't considered essential workers like we are now. We have subscribers and we get tips, and we try to post at least one new video a month, usually more. We've slowed way down since you moved in -"
"Sorry -"
Anthony smiles at the Canadian "sore-ree", then sobers again. "We didn't know how you'd react. A lot of people can be judgmental about porn. Yes, even other queer people. Actually, especially other queer people. There's a lot of purity policing in the LGBT community these days, people who think porn or kink or polyamory makes us 'look bad' and don't realize that to Republicans and Tories we all look bad, even the normie vanilla married couples. Lots and lots of kinkshaming and slutshaming and... anyway, let me not turn this into a political rant." Anthony knows he can do that for hours, and he needs to stay on topic. "So anyway, we've been putting off telling you because we didn't want you to run screaming."
Mark's lips quirk. "I think I know a few things about needing money to survive. I've never done sex work, if you're wondering, but I have no quarrel with those who do. Consenting adults should be free to do what they like with other consenting adults."
"OK." Their eyes meet, and then Anthony gets to the other reason why they didn't want to tell him. "Part of why we didn't tell you is because we didn't want you to think we're trying to pressure you into doing this with us, like we only took you in to pimp you out or something -"
Mark's laughter rings out. "I know you guys aren't trying to take advantage of me."
"It's not something we expect you to do. We won't say no if you want to, but it's not something we think you have to do to 'earn your keep' -" Anthony makes air quotes. "Or be with us. We -"
Mark puts up a hand. "I admit I'm intrigued, but I need to think about it. I try to keep a low profile -"
"Yeah, we know."
"- but..." Mark strokes his chin. "So, you don't use your real names on the site?"
"No, we have usernames. We share an account. We're 2KinkyFTMBoyz, with a Z."
Mark cringes at that - Anthony finds that curious, since Mark is twenty-seven and grew up with Internet speak, but then Mark also seems exceptionally well-read. Then Anthony goes on, "And if you're curious, yes there's a market for FTM porn, and we know some people take exception to us being 'fetishized' but honestly, a lot of our subscribers are other trans guys and we get notes thanking us because it helps them to feel more confident in themselves... and we feel gender euphoria when we get queer guys saying we're hot, it helps us feel more confident and masculine, too. And we avoid using slurs as keywords to sell our porn, like - I get some trans people do that and that's how they make their money and I'm not going to judge them for doing that, but we refuse to call ourselves slurs to get more viewers. We do well enough."
Mark nods. "That's cool." Mark leans back and grins. "Wow, you guys are actual porn stars."
"I don't know about the stars part." Anthony laughs nervously. "We have a couple dozen subscribers, which isn't a whole lot. Some people have thousands."
"That's still a decent number." Mark bites his lip. "Can I see one of your videos?"
Sören and Anthony look at each other again. Sören gets his laptop and brings it over, and sits on the arm of Mark's chair, and after a minute he hands the laptop to Mark.
Anthony works on editing the video he and Sören made this afternoon, though he gets distracted by hearing himself and Sören moaning on the laptop... even more distracted by the look of lust on Mark's face.
"Wow, you guys are hot together," Mark breathes.
And then, a little while later, Mark's hand is down his pants, panting as Anthony hears the telltale wet slapping sounds of him and Sören rubbing pussies together in the video. Anthony can't concentrate on editing now, watching Mark play with himself.
"Come on," Anthony says. He puts down the laptop, pulls Sören up to his feet - Sören's tablet is on the coffee table, he can't concentrate on his art either - and then he comes over to drag Mark along. "I've had a bad day, I could use some more stress relief."
Mark grins. Anthony and Sören take Mark by the hand and they walk to the bedroom, giggling. They won't make a video this time - Mark still has to decide, and Anthony wants to give him at least a few days for that - but that's OK. Anthony needs to be vulnerable right now, to let Sören and Mark take care of him, soothe him, and that isn't for the world to see. He lays back and they kiss and lick him all over, and he lets the tears flow silently as they affirm his maleness, as they honor him, taking his brokenness and putting it back together again with the tenderness of their touch.
He has a rough road ahead of him, but he doesn't have to go it alone. He lets himself be loved, by the two men he loves more than life itself, that he would fight for, die for. Here and now, he lives for them, letting the passion burn away the darkness of dysphoria and fear.
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