It was Thursday, December fifteenth. Sören and Anthony had spent the late afternoon and most of the evening together at Anthony's flat, and after a passionate romp they were showering together before Sören had to go in for an overnight shift. Sören didn't want to go, but at least they'd have Friday night, all of Saturday, and part of Sunday to be with each other.
They lingered in the shower, holding each other under the spray, kissing. Though they'd made love to several orgasms earlier, they were hard for each other again, hard cocks sliding together as they kissed. At last Anthony pushed Sören back against the shower wall, took them both into his hand and stroked them, kissing more deeply and insistently than before, and a few minutes later Sören came with a cry, Anthony with a deep groan.
Toweling off and getting changed, in the bedroom, Sören and Anthony kept looking regretfully at the clock, the calendar, each other.
"Can I make you some tea before you go?" Anthony asked.
"I have a routine of getting coffee with Colin at the hospital cafe before our overnight shift starts. Usually I'd say yes to the extra caffeine but I'm more keyed up than usual so that's a bad idea." Sören pursed his lips.
"I know the overnight shifts are rough." Anthony gave him a sympathetic frown and a ruffle of Sören's damp curls.
"It's not just that. It's... what happens when I get off work tomorrow."
Anthony and Sören had mutually went to a clinic for a battery of tests earlier that week, and they had an appointment to go in tomorrow afternoon, once they were both done with work, and get their test results. If it was all clear, they were going to stop using condoms. Sören was on the one hand very eager to bareback with the man he loved, on the other hand he had anxiety about his own test results.
"I'm sure we're both fine," Anthony said.
Sören nodded. "You're probably right. It's... you know me. Doctor. Force of habit."
The studied look Anthony gave him told Sören that Anthony suspected there might be more to the worry than Sören being a doctor - and indeed there was, though Sören had yet to tell him about what happened in Reykjavik. Anthony wisely changed the subject, sensing Sören's discomfort. "I'm honestly more worried about it being Christmas next week than I am about our test results," Anthony said.
"Oh god." Sören facepalmed. He hadn't even been thinking about the impending holidays, even as reminders of them were everywhere and Christmas had been such a big deal in Iceland. "Oh god, how is that here already."
"Exactly." Anthony looked at Sören. "I have to clear some time for Christmas shopping."
"Ugh... oh no, I do too, don't I?" Sören had no idea what to get the guy who had everything.
Anthony tilted his head to one side. "Sören, what are your plans for the holiday? Besides working. Did you want to go back to Iceland -"
"No." The word came out more forcefully than Sören intended, and Anthony looked a little taken aback. Sören quickly added, "Sorry. It's..." He took a deep breath. "Please don't ask me anymore if I want to visit Iceland. I'll never say never to a return visit, but it's not anything that I'm keen on doing for awhile."
Anthony nodded, and then he gave Sören a look that Sören imagined people in the courtroom saw plenty of, like a predatory cat about to spring its prey. "Sören... it's not just because your sister was murdered, was it? There's another reason why -"
"There is." Sören nodded. "I don't want to talk about it right now, if it's all the same to you."
"All right."
Sören went back to the subject of Christmas. "My plans for the holiday involve you, when I'm not working, if that's OK with you."
"That's more than OK with me. I was about to tell you..." Anthony went from courtroom predator to looking almost bashful. "I told Mum and Dad about you, and they have issued an invitation for us to go over for Christmas dinner, 'Christmas dinner' being a flexible term since they know your hours may be crazy -"
"I work overnight on the twenty-fourth, but I'd like to get together with you before that, and then I have the afternoon and evening of the twenty-fifth and all of the twenty-sixth free. Amazingly."
"Good. That works out well, I can bring you by to meet the parents on Christmas Day."
Sören felt his anxiety kick up another notch, but it was balanced out by being touched and a bit tickled that Anthony had already mentioned him to his parents. "So, you really told them about me?"
"I did. Usually I don't before a certain point in time because, well, my relationship history has been less than stellar, so I'd like to make sure things look promising before I introduce them." Their eyes met. "As soon as it might be, I have that feeling about you."
Sören smiled. "So do I." His heart skipped a beat. He wondered if they'd be living together next Christmas. He wondered if they would, at some point, be married...
You've been dating this guy slightly less than a month and you want to get married. Calm the fuck down.
Sören's anxiety came surging back. "Oh no, I have to get your parents something for Christmas too, don't I -"
"No, you don't. The last few years, between the money I make and the kind of hours I work, where they know I don't have a huge amount of time for holiday shopping, my parents have told me to make a donation to charity in their names - "
"Not a gift card, at least?"
"Er, no."
And Sören once again realized that Anthony was from the sort of background where that wasn't a thing people did.
"They won't expect anything from you," Anthony added.
Sören still didn't want to show up empty-handed if he was a guest in their home, but not being able to get away with gift cards put him at a loss. Sören scratched his beard.
"That leads me to ask you, what do you want for Christmas?" Anthony poked his nose, making Sören grin. "I'd be happy to make some time to get something for you."
"I don't even know," Sören said truthfully. "Surprise me. Just..." Sören narrowed his eyes. "Don't pull another stunt like what you did for my birthday. I know money isn't a big deal to you, but I'm still self-conscious about you going to that kind of expense so soon after you went all out for my birthday."
"Fair," Anthony said. "Causing you discomfort would be the opposite of a gift. I do want to spoil you, but I can take some time before doing so again."
"Good." Sören scowled to show he meant business. "Don't spend more than a hundred quid on whatever you're getting me."
Anthony's laughter rang out. "Sören, that's nothing -"
"Oh believe me, where I come from, it's not nothing." Sören swallowed hard, remembering weeks of having French toast for dinner two nights in a row because bread, eggs and milk was all his guardians kept in the house when they were low on money and drinking too much to go to the store, and it fell on Sören or Margrét to cook or they didn't eat.
"OK. Well, don't spend more than a hundred quid on me, then, either. And a gift card is fine, if -"
Sören got the sense Anthony would still find that tacky. "I'll think of something." He watched Anthony pull on a sweater, and he got the seed of an idea, one that he could make work if he put a particular spin on it.
"All right." Then Anthony smirked. "You've got a tent in your scrubs."
Sören flushed. "I was trying to calm down, but our topic of discussion..."
"Let me take care of it for you." Anthony patted to a space next to him on the bed.
Sören lay back, and Anthony took Sören into his mouth. Sören grabbed Anthony's head and gently fucked his mouth, moaning, Anthony encouraging him along with "mmmmmm". It didn't take long for Sören to come, being feasted on that way, and he cried out Anthony's name when he climaxed, getting teared up not just from the shattering force of his release but from the sweetness of it, Anthony taking care of him so willingly, generously.
Anthony swallowed and came up to kiss Sören, held him for a few minutes, knowing he was going to have to drive Sören to work very soon.
"God, I wish I could just curl up with you and doze off," Sören mumbled.
"I do too, but I understand why you can't." Anthony smoothed Sören's curls, kissed his brow.
"I appreciate that you. You know. Wanted to."
"I love pleasing you. I know what I said earlier makes it sound like a power trip, and yes, I get off on watching someone lose control to me, but it's... not just that." He stroked Sören's face. "You're beautiful when you come." He gave Sören a tender little kiss, his eyes soft. "There is nothing sexier in the world to me than those sweet brown eyes of yours, especially when you're in the throes of passion."
Sören felt aflutter, and kissed Anthony back, choked up. "Awwwww..."
Anthony kept stroking Sören's face, looking into his eyes. "What is that you express in your eyes? It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life."
"Wow. That's... beautiful."
"Walt Whitman."
Sören held Anthony tighter, loving him even more fiercely for appreciating poetry like he did, the sensitivity in him that could appreciate something so lovely. "I've never read Whitman. Sounds like I should."
"He can be grandiose, over the top, but he's worth a read, yes." Anthony groaned at the time. "Right, on that note, we have to leave, right now."
"Fuck."
They were quiet on the ride down - Anthony had on the car stereo, listening to Jamiroquai, and Sören zoned out to the more mellow songs, a compromise to not being able to nap post-orgasm. It was nice, with good music, the car warm and cozy, someone he loved beside him, watching snowflakes falling in the night - Sören wished he could write poetry, capturing this moment somehow.
They lingered in the hospital parking lot, and Anthony gave him a kiss goodbye.
"I'll miss you." Anthony pet Sören's curls.
"Me too. But we have most of this weekend, at least."
Anthony took Sören's hand and kissed it, looking into his eyes again. Sören felt that giddy flutter and he said, "I still can't get over what you said about. You know. My eyes."
Anthony cupped Sören's chin in his hand, stroking Sören's beard, and then he said, "Your two great eyes will slay me suddenly; Their beauty shakes me who was once serene; Straight through my heart the wound is quick and keen." His mouth moved closer to Sören's and he whispered, "Geoffrey Chaucer," before stealing a kiss.
The kiss heated, both of them moaning into the kiss, and then Sören swatted him, laughing, tearing up, feeling like he could fly. "I'm really going now. I can't even with you, you beautiful bastard."
Anthony smiled. "I love you too."
Sören almost skipped on the way into the hospital.
Sören's shift ran over enough that he and Anthony went straight from National to the clinic without a stop for Sören to get changed first. Sören was tired enough from his shift that he dozed off a little in the car, not mentally spinning his wheels in anxiety like he thought he might do yesterday.
The test results were all negative, which didn't really surprise Sören but he was relieved nonetheless. He also tried to keep his reaction neutral while they were in public, not wanting to give any indicator that he doubted even for a second there might be a slight possibility he had something.
Sören continued to keep a poker face when they got back to Anthony's and Sören took a quick shower and got changed into something more suitable for them going out to dinner to celebrate negative test results and doing away with condoms. It was at the Thai restaurant when Sören's mask began to slip, not enough to make a scene, but enough that Anthony gave him a concerned look.
"Long day," Sören said. Long life.
When they returned to Anthony's and were sitting on his couch together, Anthony cradling Sören's head to his chest, petting him, Anthony finally said, "Sören, what is it. Don't tell me 'long day' again, that's bullshit." He cupped Sören's chin and tilted Sören's face, making Sören look him in the eye.
"Anthony, I have to tell you something." Sören swallowed hard. At the slight look of alarm in Anthony's eyes, Sören grabbed his arm and said, "No, don't worry, it's..." He didn't want Anthony to think something shady was going on. He took a deep breath then and said, "It's directly related to why I don't want to go back to Iceland."
A slight nod. "I'll put on tea." Anthony patted Sören and got up.
You are so British it's painful. It was also endearing, Sören giving Anthony a fond smile as he strode to the living room.
Anthony came back with hot tea for both of them a short while later, which was cozy and comforting on a cold, snowy night like this, and after a few sips of tea, Sören put his mug down and said, "OK. I'll come right out with it." He looked into Anthony's eyes. "I was raped in Reykjavik, that's why I left."
Anthony also put his tea down. He blinked slowly but otherwise didn't react. Not yet. He waited for Sören to go on.
"To back up a bit," Sören said, "I... struggle with depression. The kind that's difficult to medicate properly. I went into medicine as a calling, after what happened with my mamma, but it's still a very hard line of work for me to be in, it's a hard profession for anyone whether they've got mental health issues or not. I tend to self-medicate different ways, and the last couple years I was living in Reykjavik, a form of cheap therapy for me was to go out dancing. There's something very... cathartic... about moving your body, letting loose to music. One night I accepted a drink from a stranger, and the next morning I woke up in an alley in Reykjavik and I still don't remember what happened, I only know that I woke up... used."
"Jesus." Anthony winced as if he was in pain. "Sören." He grabbed Sören's hands, his voice husky with emotion. "Sören, I'm so sorry."
"I couldn't prosecute because I don't know to this day who did it. And I ended up leaving because, well, in a city of two hundred thousand people, there is a non-zero chance I'm going to run into whoever it was, and there was possibly more than one of them, judging from the, ah... evidence." Sören also winced now. He reached for his tea and spent a moment drinking it, the heat of the tea warding off the cold numb shock of reliving that morning. "I haven't had sex with anyone since that time - you were the first. I used to be able to do casual sex without a problem, but." Sören sighed deeply. "Wasn't just that I've been afraid of strangers but I felt so fucking dirty, and I felt stupid, like I should have known better, but Iceland is such a safe, quiet country -"
"Sören, it's not your fault." Anthony's eyes were stern but compassionate. "And you're not dirty. You're not damaged goods." Anthony's voice was husky again as he reached for Sören's face, stroked it, his eyes too bright. "I love you."
Sören's jaw trembled, and he felt his eyes burn with tears that he hadn't shed about the situation in months - he'd been beaten out of crying for himself by his uncle Einar years ago, though he could cry for other people. Anthony took Sören's mug of tea out of his hands and put it down and he grabbed Sören and pulled him close, held him tight. He began to rock Sören back and forth, petting Sören's curls, letting Sören fall apart in his arms. Those arms always felt so safe and comforting but never had they felt more safe and comforting as they did then, Anthony his fortress against the terror of the world.
"Shhhhhhh. I know it hurts, darling." Anthony continued to pet him, rock him. "You're in a safe place to let it out. It's OK."
"I never told anyone," Sören sobbed. "I'm so ashamed -"
"You have nothing to be ashamed of."
Sören cried harder, and Anthony's arms tightened around him. Sören felt a telltale tremble against him and when he looked up Anthony was shedding quiet tears for him too, and Sören broke down even more, ugly crying, overcome that someone else would cry for him over this. Anthony pulled Sören's head towards him and began to kiss Sören's tears, his own tears still flowing, and then he crushed Sören to his chest again, Sören sobbing, wracked with grief and rage and regret but also the gratitude of being loved and accepted this way.
Even though they'd had tea, it was late enough at night and Sören had at this point been awake for over twenty-four hours, that Anthony gently rubbed Sören's shoulder and said, "We should get some rest."
Sören frowned. "I'm sorry. I know you wanted to get laid tonight -"
"Sören, taking care of you is more important. You need to be held right now. Come to bed and let me hold you."
After they got changed and washed up, they settled into bed together. Anthony pulled Sören back into his arms, held him tight, the blankets swaddling them like a living burrito. Sören continued to cry for awhile into Anthony's chest and then, drained, he lay there and Anthony continued rocking and petting him, making soothing noises.
At last Sören looked up at him in the blue glow of the nightlight. "I'm... I'm glad you don't think less of me."
"Only an arsehole would think less of you, Sören." Anthony kissed Sören's brow. "I love you. All of you. Including the hurt places. I believe you, and what happened to you wasn't your fault, I don't think less of you, I'm not repulsed by you." He stroked Sören's face again. "And I'm honored," he husked, "that I was your first after all of that. I don't know what it was that made you decide -"
"It felt right," Sören said, looking into his eyes. "I felt like I could trust you."
Anthony took Sören's face into his hands and gave him a sweet, lingering kiss. "I hope I never do anything to betray that trust." His arms wrapped around Sören again, tight, safe and warm. "Your heart is a precious gift. I feel as if the universe dropped a rare, magical artifact and it's been assigned to me to protect."
"Oh Jesus." Sören started sobbing again, touched by that. "Dammit, Corn, I was using those feelings."
Anthony chuckled with him, but there was a note of sadness in it, still haunted from Sören's confession. "Yes, it was a secret IKEA product..."
Sören gave him a playful swat, and then kissed his cheek, smiling through his tears. "I love you, you know."
"I do know." Anthony kissed him back. "I love you. And now you need to get some sleep." He put Sören's head back on his chest and started rubbing Sören's head, giving him a scalp massage that helped calm him down and roll the tension out of him. Their legs braided together and after a few minutes, Sören felt the ache leave his body and he faded into the night.
Anthony was up before Sören late Saturday morning - Sören cringed when he realized he'd been exhausted enough to sleep through the alarm, and Anthony had likely been up since the alarm went off which meant he hadn't gotten all that much sleep.
Anthony put on tea when he saw Sören putter out to the living room. Sören sat on the couch and put on the TV; Anthony was at his desk, his laptop open, a stack of paperwork. Anthony looked rumpled and sexy still in pajamas, hair disheveled from sleep, and he was actually wearing wire-rimmed glasses instead of his usual contacts. Sören thought Anthony in glasses was the hottest thing alive, and he kept stealing glances over at the desk as he began to wake up. Anthony was type A enough to be engrossed in what he was doing the first several times Sören stared at him, but finally he caught Sören looking and said, with a shy smile, "What?"
"You're so fucking cute. That's what."
Anthony blushed. "I am not cute, Sören."
"Hi Not Cute -"
Anthony gave him a look, but then he smiled, letting Sören know he wasn't nearly as annoyed as he pretended to be.
Sören felt hungover even though he'd had not a drop of alcohol yesterday - it was the familiar feeling of exhaustion and bodily achiness that always came after a big teary catharsis. He stretched out on the couch, not really paying attention to the TV, lost in that nebulous space of half-awake, until Anthony got up from his desk and stretched.
"You know," Anthony told him, "you can make yourself at home here. I don't care if you want to look around." He gestured at his collections of music, books, DVDs.
"Oh. I mean, I... I don't want to intrude by going through your stuff..."
"You're not."
After a few minutes of reservation Sören got up and went over to Anthony's books. He noticed there was a series of hardcover books tucked behind a row of classics, and, taking Anthony at his word that he wasn't intruding, he reached out for one of the hidden hardcovers, curious. His laughter rang out when he pulled it up and saw what it was, delighted.
Anthony gave him a look and then he facepalmed when he saw Sören had found Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.
Sören had a suspicion about the others, and he was right. "Why are you hiding these?"
"Because I'm thirty-one going on thirty-two."
"So?" Sören shrugged. "I like Harry Potter. There's nothing wrong with that. No such thing as too old to like it."
"I suppose not, but..." Anthony gave a small frown. "There are people in my profession who would disagree with you."
"And they can go fuck themselves with that stick up their arse."
Anthony shook with laughter, turning red. "God, Sören..."
"This is great, I have someone to geek out with." Sören clapped excitedly. "What House are you in?"
"Guess," Anthony said, sitting back in his chair, a look of amusement on his face.
Sören took a moment, stroking his beard, and then he said, "You want the world to think you're a Slytherin, but you're actually a Ravenclaw."
"I hate how accurate that is."
Sören grinned and clapped again like an excited big kid. "OK, do me."
Anthony leered, and Sören snorted, and then Anthony said, without hesitation, "Sören, you are so Gryffindor someone should sit on you."
"Yes." Sören nodded. Now it was his turn to leer. "Someone should."
Anthony blushed again, and Sören gave him a wicked grin. Anthony cleared his throat loudly, adjusting in his chair - Sören knew exactly where his mind was going, and then, after a moment of innocent whistling that wasn't innocent at all, Anthony said, "Well, I know it's been out for months now but part two of Deathly Hallows is still playing if you want to go see it?"
"I would. I actually haven't seen it yet."
Anthony looked aghast.
"You see how many hours I work?" Sören shrugged. "Going to the cinema isn't something I get to do often."
"All right. Well... I'm just about done here -"
"Hi Just About Done Here -"
Anthony glared, Sören stuck out his tongue, and then Anthony said, "10 points from Gryffindor. I'm just about done here, so if you want to start getting ready, we can go see the movie, grab something to eat... then come back here, and, ah... we can show each other our wands, if you're up for that."
"I'm up for that, yes."
"Hi Up For That."
"Jæja, fuck you," Sören laughed, grinning as he shuffled off.
When they were ready - Anthony in a dark blue cashmere sweater and jeans, Sören in a red plaid flannel shirt over a black turtleneck and faded jeans, Anthony in a wool greatcoat and Sören in his black leather duster - they went to the cinema together. It was lightly snowing again, and Sören liked seeing the snowflakes dust Anthony's hair and coat, which made him look almost regal. He wished that for once Anthony would forego the contacts and wear glasses in public - Sören's blood boiled recalling how delicious he looked that morning - but he understood the self-consciousness about it and didn't press it, and Anthony was still gorgeous to him. Sören felt that warm glow of pride at the handsome man on his arm as they waited in the queue for tickets.
Inside the theater room showing the movie, it had been out long enough that even on a Saturday afternoon there weren't very many people in the theater. Sören and Anthony had been affectionate in public before, within bounds of decorum, but now they were more uninhibited, snuggling together, and during the more difficult scenes Anthony reached out to touch Sören, assuring, comforting. The proximity and the touch got Sören's libido stirring again, and Sören fought back the urge to get on his knees and suck him off right there, not wanting them to get arrested for public indecency. The thought was on his mind as they went out for an early dinner, continuing to touch, flirt, tease. playing footsie under the table, and Sören's thoughts were racing with desire all the way back to Anthony's flat.
They wasted no time getting undressed and in the shower, kissing hungrily, caressing, playing with each other's hard cocks. Anthony led Sören to the bed, and when they were on the bed together they just lay there for a moment, looking at each other, aware of the gravity of what they were about to do, having unprotected sex for the first time. It was an act of commitment, of trust, of deeper intimacy.
Anthony was the one to reach out first, to pull Sören into a kiss. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to do -"
"I want to do... everything..." Sören said, his voice raspy with want, "but we'll start with what we're used to, tonight, if that's OK." He wanted to mentally prepare himself just a little more for being taken, though he was very close to being ready.
"That's... more than OK," Anthony husked, and kissed Sören again.
Sören grinned. "So you said I'm so Gryffindor someone should sit on me, já?"
Anthony grinned back. "Hi So Gryffindor Someone Should -"
Sören grabbed Anthony and kissed him hard, with a growl, and then Sören heard himself moan into the kiss as Anthony's hand wrapped around Sören's cock, stroking it slowly, teasing. A few deep, fierce kisses later, and Anthony stopped playing with Sören's cock, and, his face deadly serious, he rose up, and maneuvered to sit on Sören's face. Then he leaned over Sören's body and took Sören's cock into his mouth, sucking him hard as Sören's tongue slipped inside Anthony and Sören ate him with even more hunger and passion than usual, wanting to get his lover very ready and willing for the step they were about to take, because Sören knew once he was in Anthony completely bare, the beast in him was going to come out even more than usual.
He also wanted to make it very, very good for him, expressing his love with his tongue swirling, dancing, lashing, rubbing, love especially for the acceptance and tenderness of last night. He always loved doing this to Anthony - he was getting harder and harder at the noises Anthony made with his mouth full, enjoying what Sören was doing to him - but tonight he was especially into it, wanting this to be a night to remember. Anthony got more and more vocal as Sören feasted, and at last Anthony rolled off, panting, "That's too good, Sören. I want to come with you inside me."
Sören shuddered at that. He slapped his upper thighs, a "come here" gesture. Anthony grabbed the lube and settled over Sören, leaning down to kiss him, as Sören slicked his fingers and began to work them inside, and Anthony poured lube over Sören's cock, stroking slowly, teasing it. The kisses deepened, fire calling to fire. Sören's body was screaming for release, but even more than that the need to mate, to join, to give and to take, to fuck.
Anthony straddled him and sank down slowly. When Sören bottomed out in him their eyes locked and Anthony's breath came out in a gasp, and so did Sören's. They took each other's hands, feeling that sense of wonder that they were, truly, one flesh now.
Anthony started to ride, and Sören rolled his hips, rocking into him, grabbing Anthony's hips to steady him. They kept the pace just fast enough at first to get a good rhythm going - Anthony cried out as he felt the bead of Sören's piercing for the first time with no barrier. "Oh, fuck. Sören. Sören." He shivered. "Oh my god, that ring."
"That's why I got it done."
"Jesus." Anthony rode a little harder. "Sören. Oh god." He shivered again.
Sören was delighted he liked it that much, even moreso when he began to thrust harder, faster, and Anthony's moans got louder, panting for it, Anthony's hips and ass working harder on top of him, matching Sören's rhythm. Sören loved watching Anthony ride him, his cock going in and out of him, Anthony's own hardness, leaking precum, the fluid grace of him astride Sören's hips, the look of lust on his face. Sören got lost in the silken heat wrapped around him, the moans, that place of sensation and desire that felt like the only place that existed, nothing else mattered.
And at last the beast came out, grabbing Anthony's hips harder and driving into him, Anthony holding on tight and bouncing away, giving back as good as he got, making the most delicious grunts and groans, threatening to bring Sören off with each one. Sören finally seized Anthony's cock and stroked it in time to their fuck, and when he could feel Anthony's thighs quivering, saw that desperate look in his eyes, Sören ground out, "Come for me."
Anthony went off like a rocket, calling Sören's name again and again as he shot over Sören's stomach and chest. Sören climaxed a few seconds later, his orgasm even more intense than usual as he felt Anthony's passage squeezing him, pulsing, even more delicious with nothing in the way. "OH, fuck." Sören gasped for breath. "Anthony. Ó guð, elskan ástin mín, það er svo fokking gott..."
Anthony chuckled. "Brilliant, I made you lose your English."
"Þú lést mig missa helvítis fokking hugann."
Anthony came down and rested in Sören's arms for a few moments, the two nuzzling and petting, and then Anthony looked into Sören's eyes and asked, "Again?"
They rolled so Anthony was laying on his back, Sören still inside him, already hardening up again. Sören hooked one of Anthony's legs around his waist and began to thrust, more slowly than before. Slow, sensual, teasing, loving. Anthony wrapped his arms around Sören and they kissed again and again, savoring that feeling of being joined, connected, truly making love with nothing between them.
But soon enough the hunger rose again and Anthony grabbed Sören and worked his hips, urging Sören on harder, faster, and Sören gave him what he wanted, pounding Anthony into the mattress, balls slapping wildly, Sören hearing animal grunts and growls come out of himself as he drove with single-minded, blazing need, Anthony's cries and gasps, urgently clutching him, nails digging into him, stoking Sören's fire hotter, brighter, until it consumed them both, Anthony letting out a sob as his orgasm tore through him, coming all over Sören, his channel grasping Sören's cock and working Sören into a wrenching, so-good-it-almost-hurt climax of his own.
"Sören," Anthony called out as he shuddered, twitched, still throbbing around him. "Sören, my love."
Sören grabbed Anthony's face and kissed him with all the fire in him, heart soaring in the flames like the phoenix on his back. "I love you," Sören ground out, and kissed him again.
"That piercing is going to be the death of me." Anthony laughed and cried, wiping his eyes. "God, I came my brains out."
Sören kissed the tip of his nose, grinning. They rubbed noses and now it was Sören's turn to lay in Anthony's arms, sinking into glowing bliss after the blinding glory of his release.
At some point Sören slipped out of him, and Anthony made a little noise of protest. Sören, dazed and dozing a little, snapped back to wakefulness at the sound Anthony made.
"You want to go again?" Sören asked.
Anthony nodded, looking so eager and boyishly exuberant that it made Sören laugh. As powerful as his two orgasms had been and he could have gone for a nap, his cock woke right up again as Anthony grabbed him and pulled him close.
But Sören wasn't going to indulge him immediately. Once again, Sören wanted to shower Anthony with love, appreciation. He spent a long time kissing and licking Anthony all over, fingers wandering, brushing, exploring and teasing. He'd learned Anthony's body pretty well over the last few weeks, paid attention to where his erogenous zones were - though all of him was sensitive - and Sören focused on his nipples, the rest of his chest, hips, stomach, inner thighs. There was a place on the left side of Anthony's stomach, lower, where if Sören's hand touched it or he kissed there, it made Anthony buck and make a primal, guttural noise, and Sören loved that, giving it special treatment now, until Anthony's eyes were glazed over and he was making inhuman noises, precum flowing down his shaft.
Sören's tongue chased the precum, and he sucked Anthony's cock for a couple minutes, fingers slipping between Anthony's legs, lower, playing around the rim of his opening. When Sören's mouth left Anthony's cock he surveyed his handiwork, groaning at the utterly debauched sight of Anthony full of his seed, leaking out onto the expensive silk sheets. Sören split Anthony like a peach and pushed his tongue inside, Sören's cock getting even harder at the depravity of eating his own cum out of another man. Anthony grabbed Sören's head, pulled his curls, and gently fucked himself on Sören's tongue, lashing away, then less gently as Sören began to devour him, shaking his head, tongue like a hurricane.
Sören lapped up more precum before he came up, and this time he grabbed Anthony's legs and wrapped them around his waist. Anthony clutched at Sören and took it, wanting Sören to unleash, and Sören gave in to yet another hard, wild, primal fuck, loving it, completely lost and given over to pleasure and desire. They came together this time, and kissed through their orgasm, drinking each other's cries.
They both ended up falling asleep after that, completely shattered. A couple hours later Sören woke up, and Anthony did too, and they held each other, watching the snow fall over the Thames in the glow of London lit up at night, before falling back asleep.
Around three AM, two hours before Anthony's alarm was set to go off, Anthony got up, went to the bathroom, trying not to wake Sören, but Sören woke anyway, and found himself randy again, casually stroking himself as he waited for Anthony to return. Anthony had the same idea, going hard at the sight of Sören propped up on one elbow, cock out and ready to play.
Anthony got back in bed and after a few minutes of kissing and petting, Sören husked, "I want you inside me."
Anthony blinked slowly. "Oh. OK." He stroked Sören's face. "Are you sure? I don't want you to feel pressured -"
Sören grabbed him and kissed him harder. "I want to do this." Their eyes met. "I need to do this." Sören pulled Anthony closer. "I need you."
As hard as they both were, Anthony wasn't going to give Sören what he wanted right away, paying Sören back for his earlier teasing by lavishing the same love on Sören's body, kissing and licking and nibbling and caressing. Anthony had found out to his delight that Sören's pierced nipples were hard-wired to his cock, and he spent awhile going back and forth between them, rubbing, rolling, pinching and plucking one while he lapped, suckled, bit the other, teasing them into aching peaks. Anthony licking Sören's stomach almost brought Sören off right then, and again when Anthony nibbled on Sören's thighs and sucked at them. Sören knew he would have love bites there later, and he shivered, loving the way his lover claimed him.
What he loved even more was when Anthony licked around the rim of Sören's opening in slow, lazy circles, teasing him. Their eyes met and Anthony said, "I love you."
"I love you."
"Let me kiss it better, sweetheart."
Anthony's tongue had been in Sören before, but it was even more loving and deliberate now, like Anthony was taking special care of him now that he knew what had happened. The sweetness of it got Sören choked up, tears misting his eyes. It also felt wonderful, Anthony's tongue reminding him how good prostate stimulation was, making him crave more, to be filled even more completely.
At last Sören begged, "Please. Take me."
Anthony came up, readied them both, and kissed Sören as he began to push inside, slowly. It had been well over a year and a half since Sören had been penetrated and he was tight. Sören winced at the pinching, burning, and Anthony watched him with concern. "Keep going," Sören told him. "I need to do this."
Sören pushed out as Anthony continued to push in, and at last Anthony was all the way in him and they both gasped, their breath shaking as Anthony lay there for a moment, giving Sören a chance to adjust.
When Anthony began to thrust it was slow, gentle, holding Sören's hand with one hand, stroking his face with the other, looking into Sören's eyes, watching him. After a few thrusts Sören gasped and Anthony asked, "Are you OK?"
"Oh god." He'd found that spot. "Oh, fuuuuuuck."
Anthony smiled, kissed Sören, and continued to thrust. Soon Anthony's groans were following Sören's moans.
The silken rhythm on that sweet spot inside him and Sören was in tears of joy. He'd enjoyed being penetrated before everything had happened but this was something else entirely, Anthony making slow, deliberate love to him, wanting to please him, wanting to make it right. Sören's moans and sighs filled the room, and soon Sören was panting, gasping, rolling his hips back at Anthony, matching him thrust for thrust. "More," Sören breathed. "Oh god, more, please, more..."
That word was like kryptonite to his lover. Anthony went a little harder and faster and Sören grabbed Anthony's hips and continued to rock back against him. Soon Sören was clawing Anthony's back, bucking away underneath him, shouting "More, more, harder, faster, fuck me, fuck me..."
"You sure, love?"
He was trying so valiantly to be a gentleman about this. Sören kissed him hard and growled, "Fucking fuck me, I can take it. I need this. I need it. More."
Anthony drove into him, and the rubbing-rubbing-rubbing on his prostate sent Sören into a frenzy, writhing, howling, begging for more, lost completely in lust at his lover giving into his own need, fucking him as hard as he'd advertised claiming to be a power top. Together they unleashed, and with each thrust, each kiss, Sören felt like Anthony's cock was driving away ghosts, demons, everything haunting him, lingering and feeling unclean. The fire that burned through them both cleansed, purified, hallowed, a sexual rebirth, Sören's body coming alive again, singing for joy.
"More, more, more, more, oh god, don't stop, don't you fucking stop, more..."
"Sören." Anthony's voice was a growl. "Oh, Sören..."
"Oh, god. More. Please. More." Sören shuddered, whimpered. "I'm so close so close soclosesoclose -"
A couple of minutes later that felt like an eternity, Sören's body trembling, bearing down, ready to spring, and he climaxed, howling as his cock sprayed the both of them. Anthony grabbed Sören two thrusts later and called out his name, and the feel of Anthony quivering against him as heat flooded inside him made Sören let out another arc of cum with a deep groan.
Sören started to cry, overcome by the magic of what just happened, and Anthony cried with him. They held each other, crying, rocking, at last just kissing. "I love you," Anthony said between fierce, passionate kisses. "You did it. I'm so proud of you -"
"Hi, So Proud Of You."
Anthony swatted Sören.
"Thank you," Sören said, holding him tight. "Oh god, thank you."
They kissed some more, and the kissing got them hard again. Sören shoved Anthony onto his back, Anthony chuckling and Sören giggling. Anthony took Sören's hands as Sören got into position, straddling Anthony's hips. Now it was Sören's turn to ride, putting his money where his mouth was about being a good ride, bouncing wild and free, Anthony grabbing Sören and giving it to him as hard as Sören could take it, Sören riding him like he was a bull.
"You weren't kidding," Anthony rasped a few minutes into their fuck.
"No, I wasn't."
"God, I love you."
"I love you." Sören let out a moan. "And I love your cock."
"It certainly loves you, let me tell you."
Sören rode and rode, bucking furiously, not able to get enough. They hung on that edge as long as possible, not wanting it to be over, both of them needing this as badly as they'd needed anything. But at last Sören couldn't hold back anymore and threw back his head and screamed when his orgasm erupted, and a minute later Anthony made a wild animal noise as he shot another load into Sören, just before Sören collapsed on top of him, into his waiting arms.
"Oh god." Sören was sobbing again. "Oh my fucking god, that was good."
"I love you." Anthony held him tight, rocked him. "Dear god, I love you."
They tangled up together, napping off and on, until Anthony's alarm went off. "Fuck it," Anthony said, not getting up, arms tightening around Sören, who giggled before they went back to sleep.
They did have to get up in time for Anthony to bring Sören to work late that morning. Sören was only scheduled to work eight hours today, 11 AM to 7 PM, and had plans to return to Anthony's flat that evening. They had a furious, feverish makeout session in the parking lot of National before Anthony swatted Sören and commanded, "Go, before I don't let you leave," and Sören stepped out of the Audi and gave Anthony a sassy butt wiggle on his way out.
Sören was walking a little funny and moving gingerly during his shift, which Colin finally raised an eyebrow at and got a guilty grin from Sören, making Colin facepalm, laughing, "Jesus Christ, mate."
Sören was in reasonably good spirits during his shift, that sated, glowy feeling lasting throughout the day. But when Anthony came by to pick him up in the evening, the hunger returned, no longer sated, needing more.
Anthony was insisting on feeding him first. Sören was still in scrubs but Anthony didn't seem to mind, wanting to make sure Sören was taken care of. The drive to a restaurant in the snow was relaxing, moreso with Anthony playing jazz on the car stereo. Sören looked up at the last quarter moon shining on them just as Billie Holiday began to sing, and Anthony turned the music up, giving Sören a sweet, wistful look as he did.
I wished on the moon, for something I never knew
I wished on the moon, for more than I ever knew
A sweeter rose, a softer sky
On April days that would not dance by
I wished on the stars to throw me a beam or two
I begged on the stars and asked for a dream or two
I looked for every loveliness, it all came true
I wished on the moon for you
Sören got all choked up now, and Anthony was choked up too. He reached out and gave Sören a squeeze.
"When I was a lad," Anthony said, "my mum used to read me fairy stories. And at night, I used to go out to the garden and say goodnight to the moon and stars -"
"Hey, I used to do that in Iceland, too."
Their eyes met, and Anthony squeezed Sören again and continued, "And before I knew what 'gay' was, I just knew I liked boys and not girls, that way, I used to wish that I'd meet Prince Charming. Which sounds so utterly fucking daft now that I'm grown up..."
"It's cute." Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip. "That's precious. My god."
Anthony turned beetroot. "Anyway. I went through a lot of toads, I think, but..."
"You think you found Prince Charming?" Sören was touched.
"Not a prince." Anthony stroked Sören's face. "A king."
Sören leaned in to kiss him. Anthony ended up having to pull over, the two of them kissing passionately in the car under the moonglow, snow falling. At last Anthony pushed him back, chuckling. "Save that for later," he husked.
As soon as they got back in the flat after dinner Sören fell on him again, the two kissing and undressing feverishly as if their lives depended on it. Sören pulled Anthony down onto the bed and spread to him, needing to be filled again. He sighed when Anthony slid into him, when they were one flesh once more. Nothing had ever felt so right.
2022 note: I wrote this chapter before JK Rowling started saying TERF shit, obviously as a trans man I do not support her views at all whatsoever. 🖕
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