Anthony and Sören return to their usual schedule of closing the shop once a week - on Tuesdays, since the beginning of the week is slower. They spend the day cleaning the apartment, doing laundry, and grocery shopping; they have special plans for tonight both to celebrate the re-opening of the shop and their recent big tips on OnlyFans, and also as a farewell-to-summer, now that it's the twenty-fourth of August.
They're going with Sören's idea of getting some food from the clam shack they like and bringing it to the beach for a picnic; they decide they want to watch the sunset on the beach, which is due around seven-thirty PM, so around six they stop at the clam shack. Predictably, there's a queue, though it's not as bad as the lines are in June and July, but it still takes about a half-hour to get from their place in the queue to the counter. They order two lobster rolls, one for each of them, and a platter of fried clams to share, with bottles of Diet Pepsi and small bags of Cape Cod kettle chips - Anthony still has to remind himself to ask for chips and not crisps, all these years after moving to the States.
It's about a twenty-minute walk from their place to Craig Beach, but now that Sören is more easily short of breath after his bout with COVID, they go in Anthony's Prius. Craig Beach is small and the parking lot is often full and means having to park one or two streets away and walk over, but there are fewer people here this evening so Anthony pulls into an empty stall, smiling at his good fortune.
In the last hour before sunset the world glows old-gold, and Anthony and Sören stroll hand-in-hand along the beach, looking for a good spot, admiring the way the sea and the sand and the sky looks in the light. Out of the corner of Anthony's eye he spots a familiar face - Mark, sitting on a blanket in a Led Zeppelin shirt and jorts like his own, long hair stirring in the breeze as he plays an acoustic guitar, looking out at sea. They come closer and Anthony recognizes the song, Mark is playing "Dust In the Wind" by Kansas, and Mark's crystalline tenor gives the song new life, like hearing it for the first time.
Same old song
Just a drop of water in an endless sea
All we do
Crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Anthony's arms break out in gooseflesh despite the relative warmth of the evening, a shiver down his spine, hair standing on end. Mark's voice is sweet but there is pain there, the huskiness of deep emotion; Anthony can feel the hurt and regret in each word, the song of one who has Seen Some Things. Anthony tries to compose himself as Sören picks out a spot where they probably won't get wet when the tide changes.
"Wow," Sören whispers, looking over at Mark and back at Anthony. "He's got an amazing voice."
Anthony nods solemnly. "He really does."
When the song is over - Mark has skills with the guitar, too, doing the instrumental perfectly - Sören and Anthony have their food out and are starting to eat. Anthony thinks about waving to Mark, not wanting to be rude, but Mark seems lost in his own world as he begins a new song.
Hello
Is there anybody in there?
Just nod if you can hear me
Is there anyone at home?
Come on now
I hear you're feeling down
Well, I can ease your pain
Get you on your feet again
Anthony thinks it's good that someone Mark's age likes Pink Floyd. Anthony realizes he doesn't know how old Mark is, exactly - late twenties, maybe early to mid-thirties. He stares at Mark, captivated by the strong, soulful voice. Mark doesn't just have a gorgeous voice, but he has rock-star good looks, with that mane of hair and a handsome-but-pretty face like a painting or sculpture. Thick eyebrows, intense silvery-grey eyes, a brooding-sultry smoulder a bit like Sören's. Anthony tries really hard not to stare too long, not to notice how beautiful Mark is. He knows there's not really harm in looking and admiring, Sören checks guys out too, but he still feels self-conscious about it.
But it's hard to just let Mark fade into the background, with that voice, and the sad look in his eyes as he stares out to sea, making "Comfortably Numb" his own. And Sören is feeling it too - when their eyes met, Sören's brown eyes are too bright, and he's chewing more slowly, looking ready to cry.
"I'm fine," Sören chokes out.
Anthony puts an arm around him and shoves clam strips into Sören's mouth, then boops Sören's nose. But his own eyes are starting to brim now. He wonders what kind of life Mark has had, to express that kind of pain with his voice. He knows it's not really his business. He thinks of Kurt Cobain, Layne Staley, and Chris Cornell, part of the music of his youth in the 1990s - though they did not survive, their music helped Anthony survive his own turbulent teenage years.
There is no pain, you are receding
A distant ship smoke on the horizon
You are only coming through in waves
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying
Anthony closes his eyes. This was another song from when he was depressed, self-harming, sometimes suicidal. The wounds have never really completely healed - though transition has helped a lot - and every now and again they bleed out. Mark's song is like opening a wound and cleaning it.
Sören's brought a couple of candle lanterns, a stick, and some marshmallows, which makes Anthony laugh as he takes them out and gets them ready. The song changes - another Pink Floyd tune, "Wish You Were Here". After Sören lights the lanterns to get them ready for the marshmallow-roasting, he keeps the lighter lit and moves it back and forth, swaying with Anthony in time to the song. At the end, Sören sings along:
How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have we found?
The same old fears.
Wish you were here.
Mark finally notices them and flashes them a small smile before the seriousness returns, focusing on the guitar solo. Sören continues to rock with Anthony, waving the lighter, then he hands the lighter to Anthony, who waves the lighter as Sören loads a stick and starts roasting marshmallows.
When "Wish You Were Here" is over, Sören gets up and walks over with a crispy, burnt marshmallow on a paper towel, offering it to Mark.
"What's this?" Mark asks.
"For you," Sören says.
Mark inspects it warily. "This is food, right?"
Sören's laughter rings out, and Anthony smiles, amused. "You're cute," Sören says.
Mark's cheeks turn pink and, adorably, he bites his lower lip. Yes. Yes you are, Anthony thinks, and quickly shoves that thought to the side. Sören skips back over to their blanket and flops down, and they watch Mark start eating the marshmallow, making a big sticky mess all over his face. He's even cuter now.
"It's good," Mark says and gives a thumbs up.
It dawns on Anthony. "You've... you've never had a roasted marshmallow before, have you?"
Mark shakes his head.
Anthony lets out a low whistle. He wonders again what kind of life Mark's had, once again decides that isn't his business, and now he accepts a roasted marshmallow from Sören.
"You're amazing," Sören says. "Consider that our thanks for the concert."
Mark smiles again, shyly.
"You should be on an idol show," Anthony adds. "You need a recording contract."
"I don't need fame," Mark says, shaking his head.
"Oh hey, you should play that!" Sören says, clapping his hands excitedly. "I love David Bowie."
"How about I play something else? A happy song for a happy couple."
"Aw, really? Thank you."
Mark finishes his marshmallow, takes a cloth and cleans his face - Anthony is a little disappointed - and then he takes a moment to think. Mark says "ah" and he begins to strum; Anthony recognizes "Crazy Little Thing Called Love" by Queen. He pulls Sören up and they dance together in the sand, twirling each other around.
This thing called love
I just can't handle it
This thing called love
I must get round to it
I ain't ready
Crazy little thing called love
This thing called love
It cries (like a baby) in a cradle all night
It swings, it jives
It shakes all over like a jelly fish
I kinda like it
Crazy little thing called love
The sun is starting to set in deep, dramatic blues and blazing orange and gold, and dancing with his husband on the beach makes Anthony feel young again, full of life and carefree. After the song they sit back on the blanket and Mark plays another, this one slower, sweeter, by Elton John.
It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside
I'm not one of those who can easily hide
I don't have much money, but, boy, if I did
I'd buy a big house where we both could live
If I was a sculptor, heh, but then again, no
Or a man who makes potions in a traveling show
I know it's not much, but it's the best I can do
My gift is my song, and this one's for you
The smile that lights up Sören's face makes Anthony feel soft and melty, falling in love with him all over again. He plays with a loose curly lock blowing in the wind and looks into Sören's brown eyes, sweet and warm. At the end of the song they rub noses and steal a little kiss, and then they applaud for Mark, who takes a bow.
"You guys are cute," Mark says - Anthony's face burns - and then Mark takes another bow and gets up, putting his guitar away; he shakes out his blanket and throws it over his shoulder. "Thanks for enjoying, have a good rest of the evening."
"You too, thank you again so much for the concert," Anthony says.
Mark waves, grinning as he walks off. Anthony stares at Mark's perfect ass for a moment, his face burning even hotter, then he turns his attention back to Sören, who's all smiles and giggles.
"That was nice," Sören says.
"It was."
"That was kind of magical, us coming here just in time for a free concert."
It was definitely an interesting coincidence, a little touch of magic. But even with Mark gone, the world feels enchanted - more vibrant, the sunset colors deeper, richer, the salty tang of the breeze stronger, in the depth of his love for the man he shares his life with. Anthony touches Sören's face, speaking from the heart. "Life itself is more magical with you in it, love."
Sören throws his arms around him and Anthony holds him tight. Anthony sings, although he doesn't think his baritone is as nice as Mark's: "How wonderful life is while you're in the world."
"Awwww, elskan." Sören gives him a squeeze. Anthony squeezes Sören back.
They sit there for awhile, watching the sunset burn and fade, the tide rolling in on the rocks and sand, patches of tall grass and cattails swaying in the breeze. The last streaks of gold flame out one by one, the blue dusk stronger, and the first few stars rise, along with the full moon; a lighthouse on the cliffs in the distance turns on its light. The candles continue to burn in their lanterns.
More people have left the beach; there's a middle-aged man walking his Jack Russell terrier some meters away. Sören roasts more marshmallows and they take turns feeding each other, which gets sticky. Licking and sucking the gooey melted marshmallow cream from each other's fingers and thumbs turns the mood playfully sensual, as does Anthony licking the mess from Sören's beard and Sören licking the mess from Anthony's chin. Somehow, Sören has once again managed to get a mess on his nose, too, and Anthony kisses it off, making Sören giggle.
They kiss, this time a full, deep kiss with tongues teasing, tasting, and one kiss becomes another, and another. The man walking his dog has gone, and it's just the two of them in the night under the moonlight, lanterns casting a golden glow. Anthony thinks about taking them back to the car and driving home, but he doesn't want to stop kissing Sören, hungry for it, the two of them having a full-on makeout session with ever-deepening kisses, hot and passionate, hands sliding over each other's chest and stomach and thighs. Anthony starts kissing Sören's neck and the way Sören moans makes him want, getting harder and wetter for him.
Sören's hand strays from where it's rubbing one of Anthony's thighs, right to groping him through his jorts, pressing on the packer in just a way where Sören knows it's rubbing against Anthony's cock. Now it's Anthony's turn to moan, and after another deep, fierce kiss, Sören moves in to kiss Anthony's neck just like Anthony was kissing his, licking, nibbling. Anthony trembles, moaning louder as Sören knows just how to tease him, those full lips and wicked tongue on his sensitive neck.
"I want you," Sören husks. "Right here, right now."
Anthony shivers again, takes Sören's face in his hands, and kisses him hard. "Yes."
Even though this is a public beach, and there's still the risk that someone else might come along and see them, all that matters right now is the heat of the moment, the way they crave each other. They undress quickly, clothes pooling on the blanket, completely naked out here with the waves and the moon, their passion its own force of nature.
Sören's pierced nipples are hard in the night air, and Anthony wants to taste them, wants to hear Sören's voice echo on the sea. He pushes Sören back on the blanket and kisses and licks down Sören's throat to those inviting little rosebuds, rubbing, rolling and pinching one as his tongue lashes the other, as he suckles hard, making Sören gasp and cry out. Back and forth he goes, feasting, loving. Sören arches to him, panting, nails digging in Anthony's shoulders. Anthony grinds against Sören's thigh, going out of his mind with lust, getting wetter by the second.
Anthony slides up, kissing from Sören's shoulder up his neck, and Sören grabs him and kisses him hard. As they kiss, their cocks kiss as well, grinding against each other, cock rubbing cock, boypussy lips kissing, so hard and wet for each other. Anthony kisses and licks Sören's neck, groaning and growling into him, as Sören's moans and sighs get louder, their hips rolling slowly, sensually like the slow back-and-forth of the tide. Their hands roam in slow, lazy circles, and their mouths meet again, kissing deeply like they're trying to kiss each other's souls.
"I love you," Anthony says, his voice breathy with need.
"I love you." Sören looks into his eyes adoringly.
They kiss again, grinding against each other a little harder, and when Anthony resumes work on Sören's neck - Sören is going to have love bites tomorrow at work, and that thought pleases him immensely - Anthony starts rocking away, the wet slurping, suctioning sound getting louder. Sören cries out and digs his nails in Anthony's back. "Fuck me, Daddy," Sören pants.
There's still no one else on the beach but the naughty thrill of it, not caring if anyone else shows up, nothing else mattering but their fuck, drives Anthony to the brink, giving Sören another hungry, passionate kiss before he leans up, one of Sören's legs on his shoulders, and fucks Sören's cock with his cock, watching the obscene, erotic sight of their cocks sliding together in the lantern light. The heat in Sören's eyes, full lips parted as he gasps and moans.
"Fuck me, Daddy," Sören cries, so loud, not caring who hears their kinky, depraved roleplaying, and Anthony loves it. "Fuck me, Daddy. Fuck me, Daddy, fuck me, need Daddy's cock, need Daddy's hot fucking cock, need Daddy to fuck me..." Sören lets out a growl through grit teeth.
Anthony is close, shaking as he feels that pressure building, about to explode. "Almost there, baby."
"Oh, Daddy..." Sören rocks his hips back at Anthony and the wet squishing, smacking gets even louder, the smell of their sex intoxicating on the ocean breeze. Anthony looks down at their cocks again, rubbing, teasing, playing, slick streamers clinging, and back at Sören, who's whimpering, panting, a desperate look on his face, bucking back at him furiously. Anthony groans louder, rocking his hips faster, then Sören grabs onto his hips so hard it almost hurts, nails in Anthony's flesh, and Sören bites his lip, eyes rolling back, fluttering. "Oh, fuck..."
Anthony knows Sören is there too. He hooks a finger through the O-ring in Sören's leather collar, gently tugging. "That's it, baby. Come for me. Come for Daddy..."
"OH GOD! DADDY!" Sören throws his head back and lets out a long, wordless wail, then another cry of "Daddy! Pabbi.." and Anthony grunts as he comes too, feeling Sören contracting against him, gushing. Anthony gives a shuddery gasp as the pleasure pulls him under, diving deep into bliss.
Anthony collapses on top of Sören, shaking, and they kiss and kiss, then they nuzzle, laughing, and they curl up together, holding each other, naked in the cool night air, watching the moonlight shine on the dark waves, endlessly rolling back and forth, infinite. They take each other's hands, and Anthony knows Sören feels it too - that oneness with nature, oneness with each other, so close, so connected. All that they've gone through, they made it here to this space and time, this act of joy, this act of life.
"I love you so, so much." Anthony rains kisses over Sören's face.
"I love you." Sören strokes his face, eyes soft, shining. "More than words. Deeper than love."
Anthony kisses Sören's hand and puts it on his heart and they rest there, legs entwined, two hearts beating as one.
When it gets too cold they reluctantly get up, put their packers and clothes back on, gather their things, and the lanterns light the way to their car before Sören blows out the candles. On the ride back home Anthony laughs to himself. It isn't the first time they've had sex in semi-public outdoors - that happened a few times during those magical two weeks in Iceland back in 2017 - but even Anthony is surprised by the debauchery.
Surprised, and aroused. The sex on the beach was hot, and his mind replaying it on the drive makes him ache for more. Once they get in and the cats are fed, they brush their teeth, get naked again and take a shower together, sensually lathering each other, kissing and grinding together some more. They take turns playing with each other's cocks, fingering each other, teasing each other with the spray head, and when they have prune skin, Anthony carries Sören to the bedroom, kissing all the way.
They settle into a sixty-nine, sucking each other, fingering, juices dripping, moaning around each other's cocks, gently fucking each other's fingers and mouths, until they're both quivering, fingers banging away making filthy wet sloppy sounds, sucking hard and fast, suctioning like a vacuum, and they come together, squeezing each other's fingers like a vise as Sören's cock twitches in Anthony's mouth and Anthony's cock bucks in Sören's mouth, both of them gushing. They sit up and kiss, the taste of them together salty-sweet and delicious, and a few kisses get them playing with each other, wanting more.
They get back into position, licking each other's cocks, sucking, slurping at each other, making little murmurs as they savor each other's juices, strong and musky and good, not able to get enough of each other. Sören's full lips feel so good on Anthony's cock, and Anthony sucks Sören for all he's worth, an act of worship of the man he loves. Sören whimpers around Anthony's cock and that drives Anthony wild, fingering Sören again, wanting to make him come hard.
When Sören comes, howling around Anthony's cock, it makes Anthony come too, groaning as he lets Sören's pulsing cock slip from his mouth, giving it a few last licks, lapping at the gushing cream from Sören's hole. They lay there - Anthony feels like he's made of jelly - and a few minutes later Anthony is able to roll onto his back, but not do much more, laughing like he's high.
Sören laughs too, and eventually Sören wriggles so he's laying at Anthony's side. They rock together, nuzzling, smooching, petting, lost in each other's eyes. It does Anthony's heart good when Sören smiles like that, wanting to give Sören joy, give Sören the world after all the pain he's known. Sören is his joy, his world, and he wants Sören to feel that. They weathered the storm; they deserve the rainbow.
"Thank you," Sören says.
"Thank you." Anthony kisses Sören's forehead.
"Wow." Sören shakes with silent laughter that becomes less silent, bubbling, with gigglesnorts. "We put fresh sheets on the bed today and we couldn't get one night without a wet spot. Wet spots, plural."
"Oops." Anthony gives a guilty grin.
"Oops." Sören laughs harder. "We need a maid."
"If we could afford to hire a maid, I'd just as soon hire a third set of hands for the shop." Anthony looks into Sören's eyes. "I still worry about you being overloaded."
"I'm OK," Sören says.
Anthony raises an eyebrow. He's not entirely convinced, but he also knows he needs to not be overbearing.
"I'm OK." Sören gives him a stern look, a peck and a noogie. "Seriously. I'll tell you if that changes."
"You better." Anthony gives Sören's ass a playful swat. "I just... don't want to see you get worse. You're very precious to me, I need to take care of you."
Sören squeezes him and gives him another peck. "I know. But we take care of each other, and now I'm telling you, you're worrying too much."
"OK."
Sören nibbles Anthony's shoulder, making Anthony gasp, a frisson of pleasure going through him. "I think you need a distraction. Night's still young."
"What did you have in mind?" Anthony already knows.
Sören smirks, sits up, and scoots forward, sitting on Anthony's face. Anthony sighs, content as he buries his face in Sören, sucking on him once more, a lovely place to get lost.
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