After Judith and her family fly back to the UK, Anthony needs the first of their three-day weekend to rest and recuperate, quietly taking some alone time to read. "Recharging my introvert batteries," Anthony says.
Monday is Memorial Day and they have a cookout at Craig Beach. On Tuesday, they catch up on chores, and while Mark is taking out the trash, Anthony pulls Sören aside. "I have something to tell you."
That's almost never good - Sören feels his stomach turn to ice - but he waits.
"While I was in New York with Judith and Terry and the kids, Terry took me to see one of the connections he's made as a defense barrister. The guy owed him some favors, and Terry cashed in. I have fake documents for Mark - driver's license, Social, birth certificate, passport... everything. So if he." Anthony swallows hard and looks off to the side, and can't finish what he's saying.
Sören hugs him tight. While he's not sure he likes the idea of Anthony accepting this kind of help from criminals - it seems that a no-strings-attached returning-a-favor has some hidden strings somewhere - he still feels a wave of relief that if Mark decides to leave, this might keep him off the street for awhile. "Oh thank fuck."
"Yeah." Anthony squeezes Sören then he pulls back and takes Sören's hands.
"So when are you telling him, tonight?"
Anthony shakes his head. "I'm sitting on the envelope for one more night, because I'm not sure how he'll react. Not just about where the documents come from, but also I worry that right then he might decide..." Anthony's voice trails off again and he looks down.
Sören grabs him and hugs him again. "I understand."
"I was thinking about closing the shop an hour early tomorrow and telling him in the shop, so if he. You know. At least we won't have the memory of him announcing it in the living room, or at least not if he decides to leave right away." At the word leave Anthony's voice breaks a little and Sören rocks him and pets him, making soothing noises.
"Shhhh, elskan. I know. Well, I think that plan sounds good." Sören tries not to let Anthony see him cringe.
They have different methods of how they handle things - Anthony often procrastinates, to carefully weigh all the pros and cons before he acts, or giving himself more time to prepare, and Sören likes to get difficult things done and over with, like getting a shot in the arm. Anthony is bracing himself for a possible announcement of departure from Mark... and Sören just wants to know already, without making Mark feel forced to decide immediately.
Mark comes in a few minutes later as Anthony and Sören are still hugging, and he joins them in the group hug. "Is everything all right?" Mark asks.
"Yeah." Anthony nods. "Just... you know. Overwhelmed by everything the last couple months, needed a moment."
That isn't really a lie, Sören knows, but it isn't the full truth either. But it will have to do for now.
The next day, Sören does something he usually doesn't do, and puts the Silmaril in his jeans pocket before work starts, wearing it around the shop. He's gotten accustomed to taking the Silmaril with him when he goes anywhere, even just to the supermarket or riding his trike around the neighborhood - he doesn't want Anthony or Mark to get attacked, alone with the Silmaril upstairs - but when all three of them are downstairs he usually leaves the Silmaril in its box in the studio, thinking Morgoth or one of his servants is less likely to break in if they don't have the added satisfaction of getting to murder someone Sören loves.
Between customers, Sören finds himself taking out the Silmaril and fidgeting with it - away from the shop windows, so random passerby on the street don't notice the extremely bright object. At first Sören feels a little self-conscious about rolling it around in his hand, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger, playing catch with it, but as the day wears on he stops caring so much about how ridiculous he looks - his anxiety is getting too strong to care.
Mark knows they're closing an hour early today, but he doesn't know why. Fifteen minutes before the shop closes, Anthony goes upstairs, and Sören and Mark deal with the very last customers. Once they're gone and Anthony comes back, Sören puts the CLOSED sign on the door and locks it.
Anthony leads Mark back to a "lounge" area with armchairs near Sören's gallery. He's carrying a large manila envelope. He sits next to Mark on the couch and Sören sits across from them in the armchair; he pulls out the Silmaril and rubs his thumb against it, comforted by the warmth and the gentle pulsing of the stone.
"I have something for you," Anthony says, and he hands the envelope to Mark.
Mark gives him a confused look, then carefully opens the envelope and pulls out the documents. Sören hasn't seen them yet, and even though he knew this was coming he still lets out a little gasp as he sees Mark's photo across different IDs for different states, and a passport; fake birth certificate, fake car registration, fake Social Security card, even a 3D-printed fake license plate.
"You still have till the end of June to decide, I don't want this to come across like we're asking you to make your decision right now. But in the event you choose to leave - or if you stay, but something happens to us - this will help with getting you a basic job or an apartment. The guy who made these told me it won't work for something requiring a deeper background check, like a government job or benefits -"
"Anthony, did you put yourself in danger to get this for me?" Mark asks, his eyes wide as he continues to look over the fake documents - running his fingers over them like he can't believe they exist.
"Not... really."
Mark gives him a stern look.
"When Judith and Terry came to visit, and we went to New York? Terry... knows someone who owed him a favor, Terry kept his brother out of jail. I think he's in with the IRA, but he seems nice." Anthony shrugs. "Anyway... even if I had put myself in danger, we love you, and you're worth it to us. No matter what you decide, when you decide it, we want you to... be OK. I don't want you to have to live in your van anymore -"
Mark puts up a hand. He shoves the documents back in the envelope and closes it up, then he tosses the envelope on the floor. Sören's heart skips a beat, the pit of his stomach rising again, worried from the vehement gesture and the fierce look in Mark's eyes that he's offended...
...and then Mark grabs Anthony and kisses him passionately. Anthony moans into the kiss and returns it. Sören's breath hitches at the erotic sight of his men kissing, caught up in the moment.
They pull apart, breathing harder. Their foreheads press together and they rub noses. Mark takes Anthony's hands and kisses them, then holds Anthony's hands, squeezing. "Thank you," Mark says, his voice husky. "That means more to me than you know."
"I love you," Anthony says, his own voice husking with emotion. "And you are worth more to us than you know."
"He's right," Sören says softly.
Mark and Anthony glance over at him and then Mark makes the "come here" gesture. Sören gets up and goes over to them, and gets on his knees before them. Mark grabs Sören by the ring of his submissive collar and pulls him into a deep, needy kiss. Sören's cunt twinges, feeling himself get hard and wet.
Then Mark chuckles as they pull back. Sören raises an eyebrow.
"You have the Silmaril," Mark says.
"Oh, jæja, it, uh." Sören rolls it around in his hand again. "I guess I've been stimming with it."
"You're using the Silmaril as a fidget spinner?" Mark smirks.
"I guess you could call me Autiefinwë?" Sören grins, not able to resist making a bad joke when emotions are running so high.
Mark and Anthony both facepalm and groan, then Mark kisses Sören again. "I love you, you fucking dork."
"I love you too." Sören kisses him back, and their tongues take a few playful, teasing licks.
Then Sören gets the impulse to test a theory he's had since the Silmaril was found. He takes Mark's left hand - the hand without the burn scar - and he puts the Silmaril in it. Before Mark can protest, his eyes widen with surprise. He looks down and his mouth opens.
"It's not burning?" Sören asks.
Mark shakes his head. Then his jaw trembles, he claps his right hand over his mouth, and makes a little whimper as he falls apart, tearing up.
Sören and Anthony both hold him, and together they rock him, pet him. Sören looks over at Anthony and sees they're both crying at this miraculous moment, Mark holding the Silmaril without injury. The curse is broken. Mark doubles over, sobbing, and Sören and Anthony weep with him. Sören loves him so fiercely it hurts, feeling like his soul is tearing apart, going up in flames... in light.
"I love you," Sören says, stroking Mark's hair. He kisses Mark's forehead, kisses Mark's tears. "I love you. I love you so much -"
Mark kisses Sören hard, silencing him. They kiss and kiss, the moment electric, Sören's cunt aching for relief. Then Mark and Anthony kiss, then Anthony and Sören kiss, then they share a three-way kiss, tongues rubbing.
Caught up in passion, they start undressing right there, not waiting to get upstairs. They need each other now. Sören pulls Mark down onto the floor with him, and Anthony joins them. They push Mark back and take turns kissing him, then Anthony and Sören kiss, lick and nibble his neck, throat and shoulders, making Mark arch to them, moaning.
Sören and Anthony kiss their way down to Mark's hard nipples. Sören gets an idea, feeling the Silmaril gently pulsing in his hand - now also tingling like a small vibrator, as if it's responding to his arousal. His tongue swirls around and around Mark's right nipple and then Sören takes the Silmaril and starts rubbing it against Mark's nipple, up and down, side to side. Mark cries out and bucks, and his eyes meet Sören's with something like awe. Sören lovingly touches Mark's face and slides up to claim his mouth, kissing him fiercely, as he continues to rub the Silmaril on Mark's nipple.
Then Sören slides back down and he and Anthony suck Mark's nipples together, and Sören holds the Silmaril and caresses Mark's body with it - down his throat, down his right arm and back up, tracing the planes of his stomach, around his navel, down the seam of his crotch to stroke his inner thigh. Mark's moans and cries are delicious, and Sören fights the urge to mount him and fuck him right there, wanting to spoil Mark as long as possible.
Sören and Anthony spend awhile at Mark's nipples, lapping, suckling. Every now and again Sören brings the Silmaril back to Mark's nipple to circle around it, rub back and forth over it, as Sören kisses and licks Mark's stomach, before going back to suck on Mark's nipple, sliding the Silmaril over his stomach and thigh, then Mark's lips - Mark kisses it reverently.
The smell of Mark's arousal drives Sören wild - he needs to taste. Needs to express his love, to let Mark feel how much he sees the light in Maglor's soul, still, after all the darkness. The many, many years of wandering Middle-Earth and trying to be a subtle force of good in the world, even through hardship. Sören loves him so much, and he wants to give Mark the tender loving care he deserves.
As Anthony kisses Mark, Sören gets between Mark's legs. Sören gives an appreciative moan at the sight of Mark's engorged little cock jutting out at him, the thick cream pooling, the wet spot on the carpet. He rubs his nose in Mark's luxurious dark bush, breathing in the scent, and then he takes his first lick. As he licks at Mark's cock, teasing it, the Silmaril rubs around and around and up and down Mark's right nipple, then his left. Mark clutches at Sören's head, panting, as the pulsing Silmaril pleasures his nipples and Sören's tongue excites his cock.
Anthony gets behind Sören on his knees, and as Sören starts to suck on Mark's cock, slurping, he feels Anthony's cock slide into him, like a finger. Sören moans around Mark's cock, louder as Anthony thrusts, their hips slapping together. Sören rocks his hips back at Anthony, matching his rhythm, fucking himself on Anthony's cock, electrified by the feel of it hitting his G-spot over and over. Anthony's left hand reaches around and he plays with Sören's cock, pinching and pulling it between the V of his forefinger and middle finger. Sören whimpers and works his hips harder, faster, shaking his head as he kisses and sucks on Mark's cock. Mark goes into animal frenzy, rolling his hips, moaning.
"That's it, baby." Anthony's right hand smacks Sören's ass and Sören squeaks around the cock in his mouth. "Suck it, slut. Make him come and Daddy will make you come..."
Sören's lips clamp down and he suctions hard, making Mark scream, hips bucking furiously, fucking Sören's face. Sören keeps rubbing the Silmaril on Mark's right nipple, then his left. Not able to resist teasing Mark some more, Sören lets Mark's cock slip from his mouth, gives it a few licks, then brings the Silmaril down to his lips and licks the Silmaril, getting it wet - feeling the Silmaril pulse on his tongue like a little cock. Once the Silmaril has a fine gloss of Sören's spit, it's back on Mark's right nipple, rubbing harder. Mark digs his nails into Sören's shoulders, crying out as Sören resumes sucking his cock, the slick Silmaril working Mark's right nipple, then his left, back and forth, making Mark's nipples swell as long and thick as Sören has ever seen.
Sören slides the Silmaril down Mark's stomach, and he stops sucking Mark's cock to let the Silmaril glide over it, up and down, then circles at the tip poking out of the hood. Mark thrashes around, howling. Sören growls, almost coming at the sight of Mark's juices making streamers on the Silmaril. Mark watches as Sören licks the Silmaril, tasting him from it, and Mark lets out a strangled sob, desperately pulling on Sören's hair. Sören moves closer and his tongue dips inside Mark, lashing away as Sören rubs Mark's cock with the Silmaril. Mark makes the most delicious sounds, high-pitched whines and deep, guttural snarls, and Sören gets closer, closer, as Anthony's cock finds that perfect rhythm inside him, the pleasure even more luscious from Anthony's talented fingers on his cock.
When Sören can't hold back anymore - not wanting to come without his daddy's permission - Sören's lips latch onto Mark's cock again, tugging it, his mouth sucking as hard as he can, making filthy slurping sounds. He begins to work the Silmaril in and out of Mark's cunt, rubbing Mark's G-spot with it, feeling the Silmaril buzzing harder as if it knows what's happening. Mark's eyes are feverish and he rocks his hips madly, fucking Sören's mouth, fucking the Silmaril, and at last he shudders, gasping for breath as his cock twitches in Sören's mouth and Sören feels Mark clench and squeeze his fingers, pulsing with the contractions of his orgasm. "Atya," Mark calls out.
"Good boy," Sören says - even though he's younger, in this incarnation, the Fëanor part of him responds with a surge of fierce, aching love. "Good boy." Sören pulls the Silmaril out of Mark's cunt and gives Mark's cock a few last loving licks. "Such a good boy."
Then, as Sören sucks Mark's juices off the Silmaril, he climaxes too, and three thrusts later Anthony loses it with a deep, feral growl, his cock pulsating inside Sören's clenching walls. Anthony slaps Sören's ass again and gives a satisfied chuckle. "Wow. Holy shit."
Sören curls up on Mark and Anthony lays on the other side of him, face to face. They take turns lazily kissing each other, rubbing noses together, and then Sören glances down and sees the thick cream flowing from Mark's cunt, the huge wet spot on the floor. Sören giggles happily, and brings the Silmaril down to Mark's cunt to collect some of the juices, wanting to savor. Anthony watches as Sören licks the Silmaril, then Sören brings it to Anthony's lips to share. The sensual strokes of Anthony's tongue as he enjoys Mark's taste on the Silmaril gets Sören worked up again, and Mark groans too. "Fuck," Mark laughs.
Sören wants to go again. He rubs the Silmaril against Mark's cock, then dips it inside him, and when the Silmaril is glistening with Mark's cream, Sören puts it in Anthony's mouth. Anthony sucks on the Silmaril, and Sören's fingers holding it, with a look of enjoyment on his face that goes right to Sören's cunt, twinging, feeling like it's on fire with the heat of his need. Anthony licks the Silmaril, continuing to taste the lingering essence, and Sören's tongue joins his, licking it together, before they rub their tongues together.
As Anthony and Sören share an open-mouthed kiss with Mark, three tongues playing, Sören rubs the Silmaril on Mark's cock again, then inside him, before he shares it with Anthony again, the two of them licking the juices off together, licking each other's tongues. Mark kisses each of them passionately, and Sören rubs the Silmaril on Mark's cock harder, works it inside him faster, and this time Sören has Mark taste himself on it, before their tongues tease.
Sören can feel that animal fever rising, wanting to fuck. Sören and Anthony lay on their backs, legs spread, knees bent, in a scissors position, hard little cocks aligned and jutting out. Mark straddles them, one shoulder to Anthony, one shoulder to Sören, and sinks down - like Sören has on Anthony's cock many times before, but this time Mark is taking both of them.
Nothing has ever felt more delicious than Anthony's cock rubbing against his in the wet silk of Mark's cunt wrapped around them. They quickly find their rhythm, Mark bouncing as they rock their hips, cock licking cock, cunt kissing both cocks, in and out, slowly and sensually at first. Sören reaches around to rub the Silmaril against Mark's cock and Mark rides them hard, fast and frenzied. Lost in sensation and lust, they fuck and fuck, needing to come but needing even more to make this last, to stay in this moment of debauched passion. Sören can't get enough of Anthony's cock rubbing his, Mark's velvet walls rippling. But soon the pleasure is overwhelming and they grunt and snarl and scream as they climb to that edge and hang on, needing more, just a little more, needing to keep fucking, rutting...
Mark comes hard, and Sören watches as Mark squirts, spraying the Silmaril and three shelves of books with his juices. With the Silmaril in his mouth - the muskier taste of those orgasm juices - Sören comes too, right along with Anthony, who reaches out and takes Sören's hand as his cock pulses against Sören's. It's the most intense orgasm of Sören's life, laughing and sobbing with the euphoria of his release.
"Oh, fuck," Anthony yells, and laughs too.
Mark has tears streaming down his face and the most beautiful smile Sören has ever seen, radiant, ecstatic, like Mark is experiencing something sacred. After Mark climbs down and Sören and Anthony roll together and pull Mark into their arms, Mark weeps into Sören's chest. "Thank you," Mark chokes out. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you..."
"We love you so much, elskan," Sören says, his own tears flowing. "We love you so, so much."
"We will always love you," Anthony says, holding Mark tight, petting his hair. "You're our good boy."
Mark sighs deeply, and gives them each a kiss.
Then Sören presses the Silmaril against Mark's heart and nuzzles him. "The light," he says softly. "It's you."
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