It's been days since Mark ran out of the shop after he was caught washing up in the bathroom, and Mark hasn't been back to the shop, his van hasn't been in their parking lot, nor has Anthony seen Mark around town while out running errands. With each passing day Anthony is feeling more and more guilty, replaying the scene in his mind, analyzing his steps and what he could have done differently. He feels like he shouldn't have assumed bad faith and that Mark was in the bathroom stealing or doing drugs, and he should have just asked Mark what he was doing in there, but he can't take it back.
He's starting to think they'll never see Mark again, and he knows such is life, but it still bothers his sense of justice, the one where he got into law to defend the poor and people of color who were disproportionately targeted by Britain's police, then moved to the States to fight for civil rights, until he got stabbed by a bigot opposed to the work he was doing and opposed to his very existence as a trans man. He stopped being a lawyer but he never stopped feeling that urge to fight for what is right, to defend the vulnerable and marginalized, and he feels like he wronged Mark, and he's angry with himself for it.
Their day off is here again, though it doesn't really feel like a proper day off with the chores and errands they have to do, which takes up the entire day. In the late afternoon when their work is done, Sören suggests going to Craig Beach, and once again they stop at the nearby clam shack so they can have a picnic on the beach, and they get lobster rolls and an order of fried clams and home fries.
As they walk along the beach hand in hand, Anthony's other hand carrying the bag of their food, he hears Mark before he sees him. Sören starts dragging Anthony along, making a beeline, following the music.
Mark is sitting on a blue blanket in camo pants and a Metallica T-shirt, looking out to sea... looking beyond the sea, faraway. Anthony can hear the pain and weariness in Mark's voice.
It's hard to believe that there's nobody out there
It's hard to believe that I'm all alone
At least I have her love
The city, she loves me
Lonely as I am together we cry
I don't ever wanna feel like I did that day
But take me to the place I love take me all the way
I don't ever wanna feel like I did that day
But take me to the place I love take me all the way...
Mark quickly glances over at them in acknowledgment of their presence, and then he looks back at the sea, continuing the song. Anthony and Sören wait until the song is over, and when it's finished, Sören enthusiastically claps. Anthony wipes a tear, genuinely moved.
Mark puts his guitar down and looks up at them, expressionless. "Hello," he says in a flat tone of voice.
"Hey, Mark." Sören waves, and bites his lower lip - adorable and awkward. "We, ah. We haven't seen you at the shop."
"Yeah, no shit," Mark says.
Anthony clears his throat and takes a step forward. "I'm sorry," he says. "I shouldn't have assumed you were up to no good in the bathroom. I should have asked what was going on."
"I get it," Mark says. "You have to worry about loss prevention, or someone dying on your property."
"I still feel like... I fucked up." Anthony exhales. Their eyes meet. God, he's beautiful. Anthony doesn't want to notice that. "Um... are you OK?"
"I'm alive, if that's what you're asking."
"Right, OK, I... I'm not good at this." Anthony knows that was too vague, but he worries about being more specific and coming off like he's giving an interrogation; this isn't a courtroom.
Sören cuts right to the chase. "You live in your van, don't you?"
A small pause, then Mark nods. "Yeah, I do."
Sören looks at Anthony as if to say Well?
Anthony had been a lawyer, not a social worker, and he doesn't know how to fix things for Mark, especially when he has next to no information about what's going on. But he needs to do something. He finds himself holding out the bag of food he just bought - they can go back to the clam shack and get more.
Mark's eyebrows go up. He looks at Sören, then at Anthony.
"Take it," Sören says, nodding.
Mark purses his lips, but he accepts the bag and peeks inside, inspecting the contents.
"Two lobster rolls and a large order of fried clams, and a large order of home fries," Anthony explains.
"That's, wow. That's a lot of food. You're sure?"
"Yeah, we are." Anthony and Sören both nod some more.
Then Anthony finds himself pushing past his comfort zone and making an offer he normally wouldn't - he's still wary of strangers after having been stabbed, and he knows a lot of homeless people have mental health or drug problems and that can potentially be trouble - but something tells him Mark is mostly harmless. "Dinner's on us tonight and... consider yourself welcome to a free lunch at the shop anytime, and if you want to come over for dinner sometimes after the shop closes, do laundry, take a shower... um, consider yourself welcome."
Anthony quickly looks at Sören, realizing he just offered that without consulting Sören first, and he doesn't want to just invite a random stranger into their space without Sören's consent, but to his relief Sören nods vehemently.
"We have cats," Sören says. "I hope you're not allergic."
"Oh no - I love cats. I wish I had one, but I'd feel bad about a cat being cooped up with me in the van." Mark frowns again. Then he sighs. "I appreciate the offer, but I... I don't want pity -"
"It's not pity," Anthony says, and he thinks about when Steve backhanded him and screamed I'M NOT A BLOODY FAGGOT after the tearful I'm not female, I'm a man on the inside and I can't live like this anymore confession, he thinks about when Steve put his things out on the street and changed the locks, how he could have become homeless if it weren't for his uncle Nigel. He thinks about sitting in the office of the gender clinic in London, the kindness in the doctor's eyes, and how raw and exposed he felt, not ready to accept that kindness and understanding after Steve freaking out. "Everyone needs a little compassion and understanding and basic decency. Fate can throw any one of us a bad hand so it's important people look out for each other."
Mark blinks, looking shocked.
"All I ask is that you be sober when you come over," Anthony says.
"I don't drink," Mark says. "I don't use drugs. Well, except weed, and I haven't been able to afford that in a long time."
"We have weed," Sören says, and Anthony elbows him, laughing.
But Anthony believes him - he can often tell when people are lying, and while he gets the sense Mark has some complex issues, drugs isn't one of them. If anything, that makes Anthony feel a bit sadder, that Mark is experiencing the full brunt of his hardship without medicating himself in some way.
There's another long, awkward pause and for a moment Anthony worries Mark is going to refuse the offer out of pride, but finally Mark says, "OK. Thank you. I really, really appreciate this. If there's anything I can do -"
"You can play us another song," Sören says, grinning eagerly. Anthony boops Sören's nose, smiling fondly at his adorable husband.
Mark smiles too. He picks up his guitar again, clears his throat, does a few practice strums, and then he sings, voice bright as a rainbow:
I remember when we used to sit
In the government yard in Trenchtown. Yeah.
And then Georgie would make the fire lights,
I say, log wood burnin' through the nights.
Yeah!
Then we would cook cornmeal porridge,
I say, of which I'll share with you.
Yeah!
My feet is my only carriage
And so I've got to push on through.
But while I'm gone,
Everything's gonna be all right!
Everything's gonna be all right!
Everything's gonna be all right, yeah!
Everything's gonna be all right!
They stay for a few more songs, and by the time they go back to the clam shack it's already closed. They decide to get McDonald's, and they eat in the car - something Anthony usually doesn't allow, but they don't want to go back to the beach and they don't want the cats pestering them for chicken nuggets.
Anthony and Sören are both quiet. They have a lot of companionable silences, this isn't new - one of the reasons why they get on so well is they understand the need for quiet, to not talk just for the sake of talking - but this time Anthony knows they're both sitting with the weight of his offer to Mark, that they're going to let an actual homeless person in their home. Anthony's gut tells him Mark is probably not dangerous, but he still has a vague sense of "stranger danger" born of his stabbing trauma. And even though he's stealth and not typically clocked as trans - when he and Sören first met in the gay club in Reykjavik in 2017, they both assumed the other was cis, in fact - he still feels like he's taking a risk of exposure with inviting someone up close and personal in his own home. Mark doesn't seem homophobic, but he's met plenty of people who are fine with gays and lesbians, or are themselves, but hate trans people for existing.
Even so, he feels like the alternative of not doing something to help is worse.
Anthony also starts to feel guilt again for not asking Sören first, even though Sören seems fine with it. When they get upstairs and the cats circle, meowing like they've been starving for hours even though there's still a little food in their dish, Anthony opens a can of fresh food and Sören tells them, "Chill. Some people don't even have food, or a roof over their heads."
"NYA," Seamus yells.
After Anthony puts out the food, he says to Sören, "Yes, about that." He takes a deep breath. "I should have taken you aside and asked you if you were fine with us having Mark as an occasional dinner guest and, uh, taking a shower here. Your feelings are important to me and -"
Before he can finish, Sören slams him up against the refrigerator and kisses him breathless.
When they pull apart to catch their breath, one of Sören's hands is rubbing his chest in slow circles, and the other is tenderly stroking his cheek. Anthony's body responds, a frisson through him, that familiar thrust in his loins. The adoration in Sören's sweet brown eyes makes him melt.
"You have a beautiful heart," Sören husks, his accent a little stronger than usual, rolling the r - that, too, makes Anthony melt and tingle.
Anthony takes the hand stroking his face and kisses it, then he puts his arms around Sören and rocks him a little.
"Honestly, I would have asked you the same thing," Sören says. "I'm glad you invited him to eat with us and wash up. He seems like a nice guy."
"Yeah, he does." Anthony sighs. He wonders what Mark's story is, how he got to be homeless. He wonders if, perhaps, Mark is queer himself - if maybe he was a homeless LGBT youth statistic, and hasn't been able to break out of that. "I had to do something."
Sören looks into Anthony's eyes, his hands on Anthony's shoulders. "I know. And that's one of the things I love about you." Sören puts a hand on Anthony's heart. "That sense of justice. That fight in you. The revolutionary." Sören gives him a gentle kiss, then a deeper one, their tongues playing, teasing.
Sören takes Anthony's hands and starts leading him towards the bedroom. When they get inside they undress each other, kissing, their hands sliding over the exposed flesh, making each other shiver. Sören walks Anthony to the bed. Anthony lays back and Sören climbs over him, heat in his eyes. Sören pushes him back against the pillows, kissing him passionately, and Anthony moans as he feels Sören rubbing against his thigh - Sören is already wet for him.
"You've spent so much of your life trying to help people, take care of people," Sören whispers. "Let me take care of you, Daddy."
That makes Anthony ache, in a good way. He loves Sören so much. "Oh, sweetheart..."
Sören kisses him again, and again. Anthony groans as Sören starts kissing and licking his sensitive neck and throat. His breath hitches as Sören kisses the hollow of one shoulder, then the other. Sören kisses down to his chest, rubs his nose in the chest hair, and then he takes a finger and lovingly traces the scars from when Anthony was stabbed. "My warrior." He tenderly, reverently kisses and licks each scar, bringing tears to Anthony's eyes.
"Oh, baby boy." Anthony's voice is husky with emotion. He pets Sören's curls, skritches his beard, and pulls Sören into a deep, hungry kiss. "I love you, honey."
"I love you." Sören kisses the tip of his nose, and smiles that shy yet radiant smile that always makes Anthony weak.
Sören slides down and resumes kissing, licking, and nuzzling Anthony's chest. He licks and nibbles Anthony's stomach, kisses and sucks on one side and hipbone, then down to lick and kiss and bite an inner thigh. His nose rubs up the seam of Anthony's crotch, and he rubs his nose in Anthony's pubes before moving over to the other thigh, kissing, licking, up to the hip and side, and back down. His hands play over Anthony's body, fingers brushing, walking. Each touch, each kiss, stokes that fire hotter, until Anthony is ready to climb the walls, hearing himself panting for it, needing to come.
Sören spreads Anthony, bending his knees, and nuzzles his mound again, breathing in the scent of his arousal. When Sören takes his first lick, Anthony gasps and grabs a fistful of Sören's curls. All the teasing has him already at the edge, and Sören knows it. Sören smiles before his lips wrap around Anthony's cock.
"God," Anthony cries out, bucking his hips, pulling Sören's hair.
Sören sucks him eagerly, humming - Anthony notices Sören's right shoulder moving and knows Sören is touching himself, and that makes him even hotter.
The suctioning, slurping gets Anthony right to that edge, and just before he can come, Sören lets the cock slip from his lips and starts licking it slowly. Anthony makes a strangled noise and bucks again, going out of his mind with frustration, but he knows the teasing will make his climax even stronger. Sören smiles, licking and licking, ever so slowly. He moves his head down and his tongue pushes inside, lapping at Anthony's flowing juices, and Anthony hears himself hollering, almost sobbing, as Sören's tongue fucks him. When he grabs Sören's head and starts fucking himself on Sören's tongue, Sören's shoulder moves faster and Sören moans into him, and that, too, almost sets Anthony off, knowing Sören loves doing this to him.
At last Sören's lips are on his cock again, sucking hard, his fingers pumping in and out of him, and Anthony hovers on that edge, the tension tighter and tighter, the pleasure more and more intense, building until it shatters. Anthony comes hard, calling out "Shit, fuuuuuck, oh god, Sören, fuck!" as he throbs with relief and ecstasy.
Sören makes a little purring noise and licks his lips. His lips and beard are glistening, and he comes up to kiss Anthony, letting him taste himself.
Anthony reaches down and starts playing with Sören's hard little cock... nice and slick. Anthony's fingers stray to dip inside him and he groans at how utterly soaked Sören is.
"Daddy," Sören gasps, guiding Anthony's hand back to his cock.
Anthony makes a V with his index and middle finger, working Sören's cock between them, pinching and pulling, and Sören whimpers. A few kisses later and Sören is panting, rocking his hips, whining. Anthony gets going again, and he rolls Sören atop him, patting his hips. "Ride Daddy's cock, baby."
Sören straddles and sinks down, while Anthony watches his three inch t-dick disappear into Sören's cunt. Anthony groans at the tight, wet silken heat kissing his cock, and Sören whimpers again. As Sören bounces, Anthony's cock rubbing in and out of him like a finger, Anthony once again makes a V with his fingers and strokes Sören's cock. Hearing Sören's shuddery little gasps and broken cries, watching Sören's gorgeous body moving as he works his hips, all adds to the pleasure of feeling Sören wrapped around him. It doesn't take long for them to get there, Sören giving him a desperate look as he rides harder, whimpering, shaking. Anthony slaps Sören's ass with his free hand, then he caresses Sören's thigh and stomach as his fingers squeeze Sören's cock harder, moving faster.
"Almost there," Sören grits out, and bites his lower lip with a moan.
Anthony loves it when Sören bites his lip like that. He's so close, soclosesoclose, about to reach that point of no return. He keeps working Sören's cock, and his other hand reaches up to pinch a pierced nipple, pull on the nipple ring, and then do the other. Sören throws his head back and cries out, and his cunt squeezes Anthony's cock, pulsing, contracting. Anthony shouts out with his own orgasm, and moans as he feels Sören gushing, hot juices pouring all over him, dripping down and inside him. Anthony shudders, gasping for breath as the orgasm spirals up, harder, and down and through him, one of those exquisite full-body orgasms that makes him grin and start laughing like he's just taken a hit of something.
Sören giggles too, and then sighs as he contracts again. Anthony pulls Sören down into a kiss and starts rocking him, petting him.
"I love you so much, baby." Anthony rains kisses over Sören's face.
"I love you, Daddy." Sören strokes Anthony's cheek, pets his hair, love shining in his brown eyes.
Anthony sighs as his toes curl, and he laughs again. Sören snuggles against his chest and he holds Sören close, rubbing Sören's head, his back. A few minutes later Sören has drifted off for a nap, and Anthony watches him sleep, the full lips slightly parted, long lashes framing his cheeks, beautiful in his peace.
Anthony thinks about Mark, sleeping in his van, and it makes his heart hurt. He hopes that what they're about to start doing for him will help him on the path to putting his life back together.
He closes his eyes and remembers finding his stuff on the curb in garbage bags in London in 2012, and the way he wept as he loaded his car, pulled into a parking lot and called his uncle Nigel and asked to stay with him. Holding Sören close in their nest, it's a far cry from those days, but the scars remain on his soul. It would be worse if he'd had to do this all alone.
Anthony hopes that Mark knows someone gives a damn, and that it makes a difference, somehow.
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