October 2018
Blackheath
Halloween was approaching, and two weeks before, Sören decided it was time to decorate the house, even though trick-or-treating wasn't really a thing in the UK like it was in the States - but he still felt festive. Maglor had been living with them since January, and Sören and Anthony had used the Silmarils to intentionally make themselves immortal that summer, after they had accidentally given Nicholas immortality earlier that year. They were stuck with each other now, and Sören couldn't be happier about it. Every day felt like a holiday, these days... so he wanted this to be a super holiday.
Though Nicholas was immortal now, he was very much... still himself... and thought the Halloween decor "a bit much". Sören's background Fëanor tendencies heard a challenge, so it was time to annoy background Fingolfin for buying even more on his way home from work. Now it was a week before, and Sören had set up a Halloween tree in the greatroom - like a Christmas tree, but with dead branches, strung with blacklight fairy lights and little ornaments of bats, ghosts, witches, spiders, zombies, and pumpkins. It was tacky and Sören loved it.
The quad sometimes did activities as dyads, as a way of strengthening their relationships with each other, which strengthened the relationship of the foursome as a whole. Maglor and Nicholas were out to dinner and a concert, which gave Sören carte blanche to put up more "appalling abominations", as Nicholas had called it - he'd gotten off work at four PM, stopped at the store for another bag of decorations, and by the time he got home, Maglor and Nicholas were just leaving.
Nicholas and Maglor gave him a hug and a kiss on the way out. Sören squeezed Nicholas's ass, looked at the rain falling outside, and said, "Don't melt."
Nicholas smirked. "I shan't melt from a little rain, my dear." Then he looked down at the purple shopping bag Sören was holding, and sniffed. "As you know, those horrific eyesores will be the thing that kills me -"
"Jæja, OK, Oscar Wilde." Sören gave him a playful shove. Nicholas smiled and Sören knew he didn't hate it as much as he pretended to. Sören blew a kiss and Nicholas and Maglor waved, then they were off.
Today's project was fixing up the kitchen and dining area with tiny pumpkins, paper garlands of bats, UV fairy lights, a second Halloween tree, and the pièce de résistance, an animatronic display of a coffin that Dracula rose out of and was met by Frankenstein and they danced together to "Monster Mash" as bats flapped and witches flew. "He's going to die of cringe," Sören said to himself as he began to put the display together.
It was a Tuesday, and Sören knew Anthony had court today, so he knew Anthony would be home a little late. But Sören got so caught up in decorating the kitchen that he lost track of time, gasping as he finally saw it was after 7 PM.
"Oh god." Sören's hand flew to his mouth. "I hope he's OK. I hope he didn't get in an accident on his scooter." Sören knew that was less likely than a car accident, but it still concerned him anyway - even though he hadn't been in the car with Anthony that day, and had only heard about it, he could see it clearly in his mind's eye, almost as if he were standing on the sidewalk watching it happen... throwing out a bubble of protective energy with his mind...
Sören blinked and then he let out a little noise of distress as he thought of a driver hitting Anthony's Vespa, Anthony falling off into the road. No. No nonononono -
Heart racing, he pulled out his cell phone, even though he knew Anthony couldn't text and drive, even though he knew if his fear had come true Anthony wouldn't be able to even answer his phone... it was as if reaching for the phone and texting would somehow prevent such a disaster, which he knew was ridiculous. Just because they could communicate telepathically and their aging had stopped, didn't mean anything like that would work. Even so, that was what he was doing, fingers tapping. Please be OK, Sören typed, words lighting up the screen like a spark going out into the universe.
Suddenly, just like that, Sören heard Anthony's Vespa pull up. Sören was so relieved Anthony had come back home and hadn't gotten hurt on the road, or hurt by an angry client or an angry opposition, or an activist, or anything, that Sören found himself barreling out the front door and down the steps to meet Anthony in the driveway. He winced as a big raindrop plopped on his head, and the rain poured down over him, in street clothes without outerwear. But he needed to see Anthony. Sören threw his arms around Anthony and squeezed him tight. "Thank fuck you're all right," Sören said.
Anthony laughed and hugged Sören back. "Yeah, sorry, I didn't mean to make you worry." Anthony took a long-stemmed red rose with baby's breath out of the basket of his scooter and handed it to Sören.
Sören's mouth opened. "What's this for?"
Anthony exhaled. "You... forgot what day it is."
Then Sören bit his lip, realizing. Today was October twenty-third.
Today was the five-year anniversary of when Sören had come home to find Anthony in bed with another man, a twenty-year-old twink named Scott. Scotty2Hotty, Sören scoffed to himself, still remembering that username when he'd done a deep dive to find out who had fucked his almost-husband. In 2013 Sören had been working hundred-hour weeks and increasingly suffering from burnout and acting accordingly, and Anthony had wanted to quietly get his needs met without making Sören feel guilty and resentful. That hadn't been OK, and it still wasn't, but Sören had eventually given Anthony a second chance and there had been no other incidents.
Trust had been restored between them enough that Sören's first thought about Anthony coming home late was worrying that he'd been in a second road accident, and he hadn't even considered that Anthony might be out doing something dishonest. The wound had been healed enough that Sören didn't even remember what today was, until just now when Anthony mentioned it. Of course, Sören hadn't forgotten it, and of course, it still hurt, and always would. But they had come a long way.
Offering the rose with one hand, Anthony took Sören's hand in his, still wearing the leather driving gloves. "I will always remember," Anthony said, his voice husky, his eyes too bright. "I will carry that shame with me for the rest of my life. I will always regret the way I hurt you, elskan mín."
Anthony brought the rose up to his face, and Sören watched as one of the thorns of the rose nicked Anthony just below his left eye... making a tear of blood.
Tears came to Sören's own eyes, as he felt a fierce, tight ache in his chest at such a heartfelt gesture. Knowing how much Anthony still grieved what he'd done, all these years later - seeing how much Anthony truly loved him - flooded Sören with emotion. Love returned... giving way to passion.
Sören snatched the rose out of Anthony's hand, and tossed it aside, falling onto the sodden grass. Anthony's jaw dropped and he let out a little gasp, as if he interpreted that gesture as a rebuff - and then Sören grabbed Anthony and kissed him hard. Right then, right there, Sören reached down and rucked up Anthony's court robe, fumbled with his belt and trousers. Still kissing him. Kissing Anthony's neck as he caressed Anthony's half-hard cock through the boxer-briefs, palming in lazy circles.
"Oh, fuck." Anthony shuddered.
Sören thought about dropping to his knees and blowing Anthony right there, but he saw the cane leaning against Anthony's Vespa and knew Anthony couldn't stand for much longer; the Silmarils had only slowed his aging, they had not undone the spinal contusion. Sören, however, couldn't wait to get inside. He pulled off his long-sleeved T-shirt, showing his bare chest with the flame sleeve tattoo up one arm and the ocean waves down the other, leading out to the pair of fire-and-water phoenixes on his back, and his pierced nipples went hard in the cool fall rain. Sören undid his own jeans and Anthony chuckled as he took off his leather jacket, laying it atop his scooter seat, then his laughter became a moan as Sören resumed kissing him, kissing his neck as he got Anthony out of his court attire. Sören stepped out of his boots and jeans, only wearing his socks, squishing on the wet pavement. Their hard cocks bumped up together as Sören gave him another deep, hungry kiss, just before Sören tumbled to the grass, taking Anthony with him.
Sören had been wearing his butt plug all day, to be lubed and open for Anthony tonight. Anthony reached around to pull the plug out of Sören's ass, and grinned with satisfaction as he held it, as if he'd won a prize. Now he was the one to grab Sören and kiss him, rolling onto his back in the grass, pulling Sören atop him.
Sören straddled Anthony's hips and sank down. Anthony laughed again, green eyes sparkling.
"I hope the neighbors don't see," Anthony said, glancing back and forth before he looked up at Sören.
"It's raining," Sören said, running his fingers through Anthony's damp chest hair, then rubbing the hard nipples, making Anthony moan. "And I don't fucking care." Sören leaned in and stole a kiss, and began to roll his hips, hard cock teasing Anthony's cock. Anthony groaned and then he smacked Sören's ass.
Sören sank down and his breath hitched as Anthony stretched and filled him. No matter how many times they'd done this, that first moment of connection was always magical, and this time moreso than usual. "I love you," Sören whispered, looking into Anthony's eyes adoringly as he stroked Anthony's face, tenderly mussed the wet hair. Anthony nuzzled Sören's hand and kissed it, putting his hand on top of Sören's hand...
...and then his other hand reached for Sören's curls, pulling him down to kiss him with a fiery intensity that made Sören's cock jump, his hole twitching around Anthony's cock inside him. Holding onto Sören's curls with one hand, Anthony let go of Sören's hand with the other and smacked Sören's ass again. "Ride me, ástin mín," Anthony ground out.
Sören started to work his hips and ass, bouncing on that luscious thick cock inside him. There was something gloriously primal about making love in the rain... all the more thrilling for it being right here on the front lawn, where neighbors could drive or walk by and see them going at it, having gay sex. Sören loved that feeling of being so shameless and wanton that he wanted it right here, right now, in the grass, in the rain, so crazed with lust that nothing else mattered but a good, hot, needy fuck. Sören bounced madly, riding in circles, squeezing his inner walls every few thrusts to tease them both. Anthony grunted and growled as Sören whimpered, and soon they were both panting for it, broken cries rising above the slap of their flesh as Sören rode him like a wild bull... like they were in heat. Nothing else mattered.
Sören needed to come, but he needed to fuck even more, needed the delicious rhythm of Anthony's cock inside him, needed to drink in the beautiful sight of Anthony's trim, hairy body glistening wet with rain, the worship in Anthony's eyes, needed to keep feeling their bodies smacking together, Anthony's hands sliding over him, needed to feel him, that blissful long moment where the only thing that existed was their passion setting fire to the rain.
Sören rode and rode, bouncing, bucking, until they were both trembling, both almost sobbing with frustration, teasing to the shatterpoint. Anthony's hand gripped Sören's cock like a vise and he stroked it hard and fast, rattling it. He grit his teeth and growled, giving Sören a look that was almost angry in its intensity. "Come with me, elskan," Anthony rasped. "Come all over me, sweetheart. Mark me, claim me -"
Sören threw his head back and let out a wail as his seed spurted over Anthony's torso. Two thrusts later Anthony gave a cry of his own, shuddering, and as he caught his breath the look of ecstasy on his face made Sören smile through happy tears. He leaned in to kiss Anthony's brow, before his nose slid down Anthony's and they rubbed noses, then kissed.
Sören took Anthony's hands and squeezed. "I love you."
"I love you so much." Anthony let go of Sören's hands and touched his face, his own eyes too bright, tears silently sliding down his cheeks. "Thank you for loving me. Thank you for -"
Sören silenced him with a kiss before he could bring up the past again. They didn't need to beat a dead horse and revisit the old pain. Sören kept a finger to Anthony's lips as he rested his head on Anthony's shoulder and they lay there for a little while, holding each other in the grass as the rain continued falling.
Sören finally realized their clothes were getting soaked - and their cell phones. "Oh shit, oh god, oh fuck. OH FUCKING HELL." Sören leapt up, scooped up their clothes, and dashed inside. A few minutes later Anthony limped in on his cane, naked... carrying the rose in his other hand.
"I'm sorry I just... tossed it like that," Sören said.
Anthony gave that cheeky, smug grin that Sören loved so much. "I'm not."
Sören howled, then put the rose in Sprite in a vase. "I got a little carried away, I guess."
"You guess." Anthony smirked.
Then Sören snickered as he felt Anthony's cum spilling out of him. He looked down and there was a puddle on the floor. "So carried away there's a mess now."
Anthony came closer, leaned his cane against the kitchen counter, and took Sören into his arms. "If we have to take the time to clean it, then we ought to make it worth the effort."
With that, Anthony gently pulled Sören down onto the kitchen floor and they kissed as they stroked each other's cocks back to hardness. "Round two?" Anthony asked.
Sören nodded eagerly, and lay on his back in the puddle of cum. Anthony climbed atop him and Sören wrapped his legs around him. He sighed happily as Anthony took him again. More slow, less urgent this time, but there was still something deliciously animalistic about fucking on the floor like this, and Sören lost himself in passion once more, nails scratching down Anthony's back like the beast he was, rutting with his mate.
Mated for life.
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