According to Google Maps, the drive from Portland, Maine to Terre Haute, Indiana takes approximately seventeen hours via I-90 W. Mark is planning on getting there in two days, spending the night in upstate New York.
He tries to make himself focus on the drive, but his thoughts keep returning to Sören and Anthony - how much he knows this is hurting them, can feel it even as the distance grows, once he's across state lines in Massachusetts...
...and he keeps glancing over at the Silmaril, sitting in a box in the passenger seat. He still can't believe Sören gave it to him, even though by rights it belongs to Sören. That unselfish act tears at him and makes it even harder to leave.
Mark puts on music to try to help get out of his head more. As he starts seeing the signs on the highway that he's about to enter New York, and he has to change the radio station again, he finds a classic rock station, and "Innocent" by Our Lady Peace comes on - it's so strange that a song from twenty years ago is considered "classic rock" now - and it's a song Mark will always associate with Sören riding his trike, one of his favorite memories of his life with Sören and Anthony.
Now the lyrics jump out at him like he's being called out.
I remember feeling low
I remember losing hope
I remember all the feelings
And the day they stopped
We are we are all innocent
We are all innocent
We are we are
Not thinking, just feeling, Mark pulls over to the side of the highway and takes the Silmaril out of the box, holds it in his burn-scarred hand... no longer burning him, the warmth pleasant rather than painful. The sign that the curse is broken.
That the Doom is over.
Maybe it will be all right, Mark thinks to himself. As much as he can't bear the thought of watching Sören and Anthony grow frail with age and die, he knows that mortals are living longer lifespans now. Even if he only got another twenty years... would it truly be worse than spending the next twenty years alone, always wondering what could have been?
Twenty years of knowing how much he hurt them by leaving?
Mark's thumb rubs the Silmaril and a frisson goes through him. He realizes now it isn't just about trying to spare himself more pain - or trying to spare them from potentially putting themselves in harm's way for him. He's been punishing himself, not just for the things he did to try to reclaim the Silmaril, but feeling like he failed his father in the first place, failed Maedhros and all his brothers. The first happiness he's had in years, he's running from, and deep down this is the ultimate reason why. The Doom is broken, he has long since redeemed himself and yet he keeps wandering alone not simply because of the web of lies he necessarily must weave as an immortal among mortals, but because he feels on some level he deserves it.
And Sören and Anthony don't deserve that. They deserve happiness too.
One day
You'll have to let it go
You'll have to let it go, no
One day
You'll stand up on your own
You'll stand up on your own, yeah
Mark puts the Silmaril back in the box. He waits and re-enters the road when there's enough room for him to safely pull in. He gets off at the next exit and then he gets on I-90 E.
He's going home. Where he belongs.
"You were very naughty, running away from us like that."
Mark lowers his head. He feels guilt... but he can't help but feel excitement for the punishment he's well-earned.
Anthony's hand smacks Mark's right ass cheek, then his left. The sting spreads fire through his body, and a shiver down his spine. Mark bites his lower lip and whines as his cunt throbs, eager for Anthony's domination.
"Naughty." Anthony slaps Mark's ass again, harder. "Such a naughty boy." He spanks Mark's ass even harder and Mark cries out, almost coming.
To make the torment even worse, Sören spreads so they can see how wet he is, thick cream pooling and dripping down his thighs... and Sören begins touching himself as he watches Anthony smack Mark's ass again. The sight of Sören playing with his hard little cock - the smell of his arousal - drives Mark mad with lust, desperately grinding against Anthony's thigh as Anthony's hand cracks down again, and again.
"That's right. Take your punishment, you naughty boy." Anthony slaps Mark's ass again, so hard that Mark yelps, feeling himself gush as he feels the littlest flutter, not a full orgasm but the glimmer of one. Anthony groans as he feels Mark's wetness on his thigh. "You fucking slut, you aren't supposed to enjoy being disciplined." Of course, that's the point, but they're playing a game. Anthony gives two hard slaps to Mark's left ass cheek, then two hard slaps to Mark's right ass cheek, stinging, burning... making Mark's cock stiffen even more, juices dripping.
Sören rubs himself faster, and Mark can hear how wet he is. It inflames Mark even more, rutting harder on Anthony's thigh. Anthony responds with a fierce smack, the hardest one yet, and Mark hears himself cry out again, cunt urgent for relief.
"I think you should tie him up so he can't leave again," Sören says before he stops playing with himself and licks his fingers clean, slowly and sensually, making Mark whimper, wanting a taste.
"I agree." Anthony spanks Mark's ass one more time for good measure, then he has Mark climb off his lap. Anthony gets up, finds Mark's leash and collar, and when he comes back with them, he commands Mark to kneel. Mark does as he's told, bowing his head reverently. Anthony fits the collar around Mark's neck, then clips the leash through the O-ring. Then he tugs the leash and has Mark get back on the bed. He ties the leash to one of the bedposts, and gets out the handcuffs.
Mark watches, handcuffed, as Sören and Anthony take turns pumping each other, kissing, licking their tongues together. When they're both engorged and ready, they lay on their backs in a scissors position, cocks lined up... and Mark scoots over on his knees, straddles and sinks down, taking them both inside himself. Tears fill his eyes, overjoyed at that feeling of both of them in him at once, claiming him... welcoming him home.
Anthony spanks Mark's ass again. "That's it, slut. We're going to fuck you so good you won't be able to walk for awhile, let alone run away again."
Mark grins and then he moans as he rides, slowly at first then harder, faster, until he's bouncing wildly, working his hips in circles as their cocks rub together inside him, finding that perfect rhythm. Anthony plays with Mark's cock, taking it between the V of his fingers, tugging it back and forth, while Sören's hands run over his back and ass and chest and stomach and thighs, caressing. Mark can't get enough, aching to come but needing to make it last, needing to mate with the men he loves, needing to keep feeling them.
When Mark gets closer, Sören reaches for the Silmaril and rubs it against Mark's cock, the gentle pulsing warmth teasing him to the shatterpoint. Mark lets out a feral growl through clenched teeth and Anthony smacks Mark's ass again, then pinches a nipple. "Naughty sluts like you don't get to come until I say you can come. We're going to show you your rightful place, fuckslut."
Mark loves it when Anthony bosses him around, now moreso than ever. Just before Mark can climax, Sören pulls the Silmaril back and brings it to his lips, and as Sören licks Mark's juices off the Silmaril, Mark feels Sören's cock twitching and throbbing, which sets off Anthony's own orgasm, giving a shuddery gasp as Sören screams with pleasure. Mark can feel their contractions and almost comes with them, but he holds back with a frustrated sob.
After Sören and Anthony have recharged - and Mark can feel the wet spot underneath him, his thighs completely soaked - it's time for another round. This time Anthony instructs Mark to get face down, ass up, Mark's wrists still shacked in the handcuffs. Anthony puts on the strapless vibrating dildo, and takes Mark from behind. At first Sören watches, playing with himself again, then he kneels in front of Mark, his plump little cock jutting out, and grabs a fistful of Mark's hair. Mark wraps his lips around Sören's cock, moaning, and rocks his hips back at Anthony, fucking himself desperately on the vibrating cock. Anthony smacks Mark's ass and Sören pulls Mark's hair.
"Suck it, slut," Anthony snarls. "Earn your release."
Mark can taste all three of them on Sören's cock and that makes it even hotter. Mark whimpers and moans as he sucks and slurps at Sören greedily, savoring not just the taste but the way Sören moans, the look of ecstasy on Sören's face. Anthony's hips slap against Mark's, and Anthony grunts and growls like the beast he is, fucking hard. Mark revels in being used like this, being theirs. He loses himself in sensation, and that delicious feeling of surrender, giving himself to them completely.
"You better not come without permission, fuckslut," Anthony rasps, and slaps Mark's ass hard. Mark cries out around Sören's cock, almost undone. Almost.
Mark holds back, even as he's trembling, the tension coiled tight. Anthony fucks him and fucks him, making his pussy sore, and he sucks Sören for all he's worth. When Sören comes again, Anthony comes two thrusts later and doubles over, leaning on Mark's back. Mark lets out another tortured sob - he's so close and so badly needs to come, but he's trying to be good and obey. Watching Sören's cunt contracting and gushing cream is just frustrating him more.
Anthony finally uncuffs Mark... and makes Mark lay on his back, to tie his wrists to the bed with rope. Mark's wrists are sore from the cuffs, and now the rope burns, and even though his pussy and ass are sore, his need to come - his need to keep letting them use him, as long as they want - is greater. Sören climbs atop him and they begin to grind their pussies together, cock teasing cock. Sören kisses him and the playful licking of their tongues mirrors the way their cocks play together, sliding, rubbing, rutting. Anthony watches - this time he's the one playing with himself - and then he put the strapless dildo on again, turns the vibe up higher, and gets behind Sören.
Anthony goes back and forth between them, a dozen thrusts in Sören, a dozen thrusts in Mark, back to Sören, back to Mark, pushing the juices of one inside the other, so they can be inside each other too. The teasing rhythm of the vibrating cock purring inside him, and Sören's cock sensuously caressing his cock, drives Mark into sobbing, whimpering, panting frenzy. "Please," Mark begs. "Please, please, please, please let me come, please, please, let me come for you, please, please..."
Sören laughs and silences him with a deep, hungry kiss, working his hips harder, faster, their cunts slapping together, making delicious wet smacking, slurping sounds. Anthony fucks harder, another savage, animalistic fuck, the vibe stroking his G-spot until Mark can't hold back anymore, not even able to make words to beg for his release, only howling, keening.
Sören looks over his shoulder. "Can he come now, Daddy?"
Anthony gives a deep grunt of resignation. "Come, both of you sluts."
Coming together with Sören has never been so powerful, the contractions making their pussy lips kiss, as they kiss deeply, moaning into the kiss. Anthony pulls out, takes the vibe out, and paws himself until he squirts all over them, like a baptism, shouting out with the force of his orgasm.
Mark sighs as the full-body orgasm throbs and throbs, delicious bliss. The flood of relief and the deep peace are just what he needed. He can feel himself smiling so hard his face hurts, his heart as bright as the Silmaril.
Anthony unties Mark's wrists, and he unties the leash from the bedpost, but doesn't take Mark off the leash - he wraps it around his wrist. "Think I'm gonna keep you on the leash for awhile, make sure you don't run off again," Anthony says, before he kisses Mark's nose.
Mark strokes Anthony's face. He isn't planning on going anywhere - and he really is too sore to consider it anyway, not that he regrets any of that decadent, hot fucking - but he smiles and nods. "I think that's a good idea." He really does love being leashed up like this. "Maybe you should have me on the leash all the time, just to make sure."
"Well, I don't know how our customers would feel about that." Anthony chuckles. "There are kids who shop at the store, and all."
"Fair."
"But when we're at home... I might well take you up on that." Anthony grins. "Maybe I shouldn't let you wear clothing, either."
"But then the Yule Cat will eat him in December," Sören points out.
Anthony facepalms, chuckling. Mark laughs too - that's such a Sören thing to say.
They cuddle up together, a tangle of limbs and warmth, and just before Mark can drift off for a nap, he hears Sören say, "My husbands," giving them each a squeeze. Mark cries happy tears, touched and relieved by those words.
He feels the same way. They may not be married on paper, but they are mated for life.
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