Sören whined as the alarm went off. Anthony laughed softly and rained little kisses over his face. Sören gave another whine in protest as Anthony got up - he was so cozy - and then a few minutes later Anthony was gently rubbing his shoulder and Sören smelled coffee. He sat up and took a freshly steaming cup fixed the way he liked it, out of Anthony's hands.
"I woke up before the alarm went off and started a pot," Anthony said, sitting on the edge of the bed, tousling Sören's curls.
Sören scowled at the time. Then he managed a little smile for Anthony. "You're a love."
"Well, I love you." Anthony leaned in and kissed the top of Sören's head. "And I wish you didn't have to go to work tonight."
"You and me both. At least I get tomorrow night free." It was Friday, December thirtieth; tomorrow night was New Year's Eve.
"At least there's that." Anthony sat, watching Sören sip his coffee. "Any thoughts on what you want to do to ring in the New Year?"
"You?"
Anthony laughed. "Besides that."
Sören rubbed his beard. "I honestly hadn't thought about it, since I've been working so much this past week, haven't had much chance to catch my breath..."
Anthony gave a sympathetic little frown and rubbed Sören's knee. "It's been so weird, having time off. I barely know what to do with myself."
"Well clearly you've had some idea."
"Some." Their eyes met. "A lot of missing you, wishing you were there to share it with me."
Sören's heart ached. He felt himself get choked up, and didn't want to fall apart and cry when he had to be at the hospital in a bit. "Oh, elskan."
When Sören's coffee was finished he went down the hall and showered - alone, since it would be too tempting to call out of work and spend the evening in bed with Anthony; they'd already spent the day in bed, which was why Sören needed another shower. Sören came out in a towel and Anthony, who was reading in bed, groaned at the sight of him. Sören groaned too, looking at Anthony shirtless, wearing glasses.
"Jesus," Sören laughed.
"Mum called while you were showering," Anthony said.
"Oh, did she?" Sören began putting on his scrubs.
Anthony nodded. "She wanted to know if we were coming for New Year's Eve. I told her no."
"Oh... but why?" Sören pouted. "I like your mum."
"So, Christmas Day was small - just you, myself, my parents. My gran was in Tahiti with her 'companion'." Anthony made air quotes. "Christmas Eve, my parents went to see my father's surviving brother, Grant, and his second wife and his kids and stepchildren. Grant and some of my cousins are coming to New Year's Eve at my parents' house."
"OK?" Sören raised an eyebrow. "Why can't I meet the rest of your family?"
"It's not that you can't," Anthony said. He took a deep breath. "My only male cousin, Alistair - the only male cousin I have, it's all girls on my mum's side too - well... Alistair and I don't get on. At all. Alistair Hewlett-Johnson is an Olympic fencer, he won bronze, actually, and he's quite a bit stuck on himself. I prefer to avoid family functions where he's present because it's that toxic. He'll be there at New Year's Eve tomorrow."
"I see." Sören frowned. "I'm sorry that your relationship with your cousin is that bad."
"I am too." Anthony looked down, a touch of sadness in his eyes. "I wanted to be his friend when we were growing up. He rather didn't."
Sören came over and gave Anthony a tight hug. Anthony wrapped his arms around Sören's waist and leaned on him. Sören ruffled Anthony's hair.
"Do your parents know? I mean, why do they keep inviting this guy if they know he makes you uncomfortable and you'll nope out of family functions if he's there?" Sören pulled on the long-sleeve T-shirt he wore under his scrubs, tonight a navy blue.
"That's just it. He's family. It's impolitic not to invite him. And of course, he will show up if he's invited and he doesn't have a prior engagement, like a match." Anthony got up and began to get dressed, since he was driving Sören to work. "I thought I would tell you about my mother's invite, and why I declined - but also that my mother thinks well enough of you to invite you along with me."
"Well, I'm glad." Sören smiled.
"Which leads me to the other reason why I brought up her call - in the same conversation she said that she and Dad would both like us to come to Sunday dinner at least once a month, schedule permitting, if you were OK with that."
"Awwww, that would be nice." Sören felt a bit of relief - he couldn't tell if Anthony's father liked him or not - and he also felt a bit of elation, as if the approval of the parents and wanting them to come around more, as a couple, solidified that this was real, this was serious...
"Good. I was in the habit of going there at least every other weekend before we started dating. Let them feed me." Anthony gave a sheepish smile, since his cooking skills were rather basic. "Mum adores you, and Dad approves of you."
"He does?"
Anthony nodded solemnly. "I know he's hard to figure out - even for someone like myself, who's skilled at reading people - but he does. He said when I was visiting a few days ago, 'You found yourself a good one.'"
Sören hugged him, and Anthony gave him a squeeze and a little kiss before they pulled apart.
Sören took a last glimpse at the gorgeous view of London lit up at night from the panoramic windows in Anthony's flat, before they headed out. When they were in the car, Anthony put on the stereo and asked Sören, "Do you have any preference?"
Sören thought for a minute. "Something to help me keep waking up." He chuckled.
Anthony defaulted to Jamiroquai. Sören began to do a little boogie in his seat, which Anthony smiled at.
"Ugh," Sören said, "this makes me wish I didn't have to go in tonight, even more. Makes me feel like dancing. Mind, I'd probably just... dance around my flat, tidying up. But still."
"You mentioned that you liked going to nightclubs when you were in Reykjavik. That it was therapeutic for you."
Sören nodded with a wistful sigh. "Jæja, dancing helped me get out of my head. I wasn't there just to cruise and find someone to shag - that was a nice bonus. I went there to unleash, to... perform an exorcism, I guess you could call it. It's a very ancient urge, I think, it's why shamans had the status they did in their tribes, they created that rhythm that got people moving, got them out of themselves and to another state of consciousness." Sören looked out the window but he wasn't really looking; he closed his eyes, remembering. "I miss it. I haven't since, well. You know. And you know why. It hasn't been safe."
"What if I went with you?"
Sören looked over at Anthony, who glanced at him before returning his focus to the road.
"You mean the two of us going to a club together?" Sören asked.
Anthony nodded. "I would ensure your safety. There's no pressure, only if you want to, but if you wanted to -"
Sören felt that tight ache in his chest again. "I... I'd like that." He swallowed hard. "You think we could do that for New Year's Eve?"
Anthony smiled. "Absolutely."
"I have no idea what the club scene is like around here -"
"I sort of do. It's not something I've done often, as I'd prefer to bring a date rather than go alone and, well, I've tended to date men not as free-spirited as yourself." He gave Sören's knee a little squeeze. "It's a refreshing change."
Sören's hand rested on Anthony's for a moment. I hope that novelty never wears off. Then he caught himself. Never? That implies there's an always. And, his heart skipping a beat, arms breaking out in gooseflesh under his long sleeves and his duster, despite the warmth of the car, he knew, then. This is the one. I want to grow old with him.
It was a realization that was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
"Anyway..." Anthony's voice cut into his thoughts. "I assume you'd rather go to a gay club or at least one that's gay-friendly?"
"My experience tends to be pansexual-oriented clubs because, well. I'm bi, not that it really matters now, but back then it did." Sören would miss a woman's touch now and again, but he would miss Anthony more. "But if you're not into that, then a gay club sounds like a safer bet, já, if nothing else we're less likely to be harassed there."
"Yeah." Anthony frowned. "It's unfortunate that in 2011 this is something we still have to worry about."
Sören nodded. "So, yeah, gay club... and, oh shit, I'm going to have to stop home and get suitable clothing."
"Are you going to wear something like what you wore on our first date?"
"Já, that was the plan."
"If you give me the key to your flat, I'll stop there, pack up for you, and that way we can save time, you can just get changed at my place and we can go to wherever we're getting dinner, then to the club."
That was a huge amount of trust, but Sören trusted him. He reached for the keyring in his pocket and handed it over. Anthony took it, meeting Sören's eyes, seeming to understand what a big deal this was, that they'd achieved another next level of deepening trust and understanding.
When they got to National, Sören lingered in the car, as he tended to do. After a few kisses that left them flushed and breathless, aching for more, Sören muttered, "I better go before I get too tempted."
Anthony stopped him before he could open the car door. "One last question."
"Hm?"
"Do you care if we take the Tube? If we're going out to ring in 2012 at a nightclub I'd like to have a few drinks - just a few, not so much I lose agency in public, but enough to unwind properly, and enough where I'd prefer to not have liability hanging over my head with driving."
"Oh, já, that's fine!" Sören nodded. "Maybe I'll do a little drinking myself." That, too, felt liberating - knowing he would be safe enough with Anthony at his side that he could have a couple drinks in public and not worry about waking up in an alley, used and not able to remember what happened.
"All right. That'll also help me plan where we're going."
Sören gave him a last kiss, and then waved on his way out. "Love you."
"I love you, Sören."
Despite Sören's reluctance to go into work that night, and the usual stress of pulling an overnight shift, he was in good spirits, enough that Pamela the pretty redhaired, thirtyish neurologist noticed when Sören had a break in the morning and she was just getting in. "You're as giddy as a kipper," she said with a smirk.
"What?" Sören gigglesnorted into his coffee.
"Sorry, dear, my Yorkshire is showing. You're in an unusually good mood tonight, got a bit of a bounce to you." Pamela cocked her head to one side. "You still seeing that lawyer who sent you flowers?"
Sören nodded with a happy little sigh.
"It looks good on you," Pamela said.
"What does?"
Pamela grinned, flashing a toothpaste smile. "True love."
The club in Vauxhall was having a retro night for the new year - "retro" here being songs from the 80s and 90s and early 2000s, which made Anthony lament, "I feel old that this is considered old" as they walked in and "This Is How We Do It" by Montell Jordan was playing, which came out in 1995 when Anthony was fifteen.
Sören patted him. "You're only as old as you feel."
Anthony snorted. "That doesn't help."
Sören could tell Anthony was definitely out of his element here, though he looked good - Anthony was wearing the Armani tie Sören got him for Christmas with a steel-blue blazer, black shirt, black trousers, and black pointy boots - and he smelled good, Sören feeling a frisson of arousal just from the touch of his cologne, a little different than what Anthony usually wore, something more aggressive this time. Sören dragged Anthony to the bar, knowing having a drink right away would take the edge off, and on the way there he marveled once again that he felt safe enough to do this, with Anthony at his side.
Sören had a bottle of beer, and Anthony had a hard cider. They watched the men on the floor, and Sören put a reassuring arm around Anthony's waist. "We can't possibly look more ridiculous than that," Sören said, gesturing to some guys a few feet away who were wearing bright neon suits, rainbow feather boas, and lots of glitter. Anthony laughed and kissed his cheek.
Then Sören recognized the opening notes of an Aaliyah song he hadn't heard in years and loved. He made a squeak and grabbed Anthony, dragging him out onto the floor. "This is my jam," Sören said, as Anthony turned beetroot and laughed, but indulged him.
Anthony's self-consciousness at dancing in public quickly melted away as Sören began to sensually grind up on him, the two of them holding each other and finding a rhythm together, looking into each other's eyes as if it were just them.
Boy, you know you make me float
Boy, you really get me high
I feel like I'm on dope
'Cause you—you serve me on a regular
Boy, we need to tie this rope
Before we drift any deeper
Baby, now pull me close
Boy, let's take this overboard now
I want you to rock the boat
Rock the boat, rock the boat, rock the boat
Work it in the middle,
Work the middle, work the middle, work the middle
Change positions,
New positions, new positions, new positions
Stroke it for me, stroke it for me
Stroke it for me, stroke it for me
When the song was over Sören kissed him hard - turned on by the fluid grace of the way they moved together, and Anthony willing to let go, for him. "See? That wasn't so bad."
"I guess not." Anthony kissed him back.
The Aaliyah song was followed by something much older, "Outstanding" by The Gap Band. Sören and Anthony moved across the floor, continuing to let go, be one with the music and each other.
Girl, you're lookin' sweeter now
You got it every day, girl
Wish that I could love you now
In a special way
You light my fire
I feel alive with you, baby
You blow my mind
I'm satisfied
Outstanding (So outstanding, yeah)
Girl, you knock me out
Excited (I'm so excited, baby)
It makes me wanna shout (Baby)
Gee, I feel so lucky, girl
To have you all alone
I really love the way you love me
Forever I'll be yours
You blow my mind, baby
I'm so alive with you, baby
You blow my mind, baby
You blow my mind, baby, baby
You light my fire {You light my fire}
I feel alive with you, baby {I feel alive}
You blow my mind {You blow my mind}
I'm satisfied {I'm satisfied}
Outstanding
Sören laughed as Anthony twirled him around, dipped him as if they were alone in Sören's kitchen, no one to judge them. They kissed again at the end of the song, and Sören stroked Anthony's cheek, smiling at the light in his eyes, the way he was coming alive. Sören's laughter rang out when he recognized Earth Wind and Fire, and now Anthony took the initiative, leading him.
Yeah, hey
When you wish upon a star
Your dreams will take you very far, yeah
But when you wish upon a dream
Life ain't always what it seems, oh yeah
What'd you see on a night so clear
In the sky so very dear
You're a shining star, no matter who you are
Shining bright to see what you could truly be
What you could truly be
Both Anthony and Sören laughed at the opening notes of "Sexual Healing" by Marvin Gaye. Anthony got behind Sören and their hips rolled together, his arms around Sören's waist, hands sliding over him. Sören tilted his face so they could kiss, shivering as Anthony's fingers "accidentally" brushed a pierced nipple through Sören's shirt.
Ooh baby, I'm hot just like an oven
I need some lovin'
And baby, I can't hold it much longer
It's getting stronger and stronger
And when I get that feeling
I want sexual healing
Sexual healing, oh baby
Makes me feel so fine
Helps to relieve my mind
Sexual healing baby, is good for me
Sexual healing is something that's good for me
"You are so fucking hot," Anthony whispered, before nibbling Sören's neck. Sören moaned, feeling his cock stirring in his leather pants.
The next song did nothing to calm them down, as it was "Pull Up to the Bumper" by Grace Jones. They took turns grinding up on each other from behind, and at last facing each other, bodies close, hands roaming, and Sören could feel Anthony was a little hard as well, felt a frisson at the heat in his eyes.
Driving down those city streets
Waiting to get down
Won't you take your big machine
Somewhere in this town
Now in the parking lot garage
I found the proper place
Just follow all the written rules
You'll fit into the space
Pull up to my bumper baby
In your long black limousine
Pull up to my bumper baby
And drive it in between
Pull up, to it,
Don't drive, through it
Back it, up twice
Now that fits nice
They got hot and heavy enough that Sören decided they needed a break, bringing Anthony back to the bar, where Sören had a second bottle of beer and Anthony had a second hard cider. Anthony shamelessly grabbed his ass while they watched and waited to jump back in, and Sören was tempted to throw him on the bar, climb on, and ravish him. The endorphins had definitely started to kick in, and Sören grinned to himself as he finished his beer.
They took a few more minutes to canoodle, nuzzling and petting; Sören thought about ordering a third beer and then Anthony's face lit up when Jamiroquai came on. Now it was Anthony dragging him on the floor like an excited big kid, with Sören giggling at his exuberance, which was infectious.
You, give me light
So tonight, take me there
I, feel your sun
Start to glow and I know it
Let me show you that
I want your love
I need your touch
For the rest, of our time together,
Baby, come fly with me, eternally
You and me,
We were meant to be
Yeah hey
Alright (right now)
We'll spend the night together
Wake up and live forever
Yeah hey
Alright (right now)
We'll spend the night together
Wake up and live forever
"You're beautiful," Anthony said, stroking Sören's face, his curls. "Your smile lights up this entire place." He leaned in for a kiss. "The entire world."
Sören kissed him back, harder. "I love you."
"God, I love you."
They got emotional enough by the end of the song that when Luther Vandross played next, it seemed absolutely perfect for how they were feeling, everything about what had led them to this point in time.
I can't fool myself, I don't want nobody else to ever love me
You are my shinin' star, my guiding light, my love fantasy
There's not a minute, hour, day or night that I don't love you
You're at the top of my list 'cause I'm always thinkin' of you
I still remember in the days when I was scared to touch you
How I spent my day dreamin' plannin' how to say I love you
You must have known that I had feelings deep enough to swim in
That's when you opened up your heart and you told me to come in
Oh, my love
A thousand kisses from you is never too much
I just don't wanna stop
Oh, my love
A million days in your arms is never too much
I just don't wanna stop
Too much, never too much, never too much, never too much
Their eyes met and they stole another kiss.
Woke up today, looked at your picture just to get me started
I called you up, but you weren't there and I was broken hearted
Hung up the phone, can't be too late, the boss is so demandin'
Opened the door up and to my surprise there you were standin'
Anthony's eyes widened and Sören saw them mist, and knew without him saying it that he was thinking of when Sören lost his phone and went all the way down to Lincoln's Inn straight from his shift at the hospital, tired as he was, just to let him know that he wasn't being ignored - what Anthony feared. Sören grabbed him and kissed him passionately.
Well, who needs to go to work to hustle for another dollar
I'd rather be with you 'cause you make my heart scream and holler
Love is a gamble and I'm so glad that I'm winnin'
We've come a long way and yet this is only the beginnin'
"I think we found our song," Sören rasped.
Oh, my love
A thousand kisses from you is never too much
(Never too much, never too much, never too much)
I just don't wanna stop
Oh, my love
A million days in your arms is never too much
(Never too much, never too much, never too much)
And I just don't wanna stop
"I think so." Anthony pulled Sören into another deep, needy kiss.
They were both choked up now... and hard for each other. They hadn't been at the club terribly long, and Sören felt a little guilty about asking to go back home, but he felt like he was going to end up mauling Anthony in public if they didn't leave soon. But, as a compromise, Sören led Anthony back to the bar. "One more for the road, and if anything else comes on, we'll have one last dance?"
"Sounds good."
They drank through another few songs, Sören only half-watching the men dancing on the floor, looking over at Anthony again and again, blood boiling, wanting him. God, how he wanted.
Their last dance - still holding their bottles of alcohol, not through yet - was to "If You Love Me" by Brownstone, slower and more rhythmic, and also timely, another song that felt perfect with the emotions running high, and Sören thinking to himself this is the one, I want to settle down with him, feeling like they'd suddenly hit a crossroads in their relationship, things had escalated and brought them to another next level, a point of no return.
I don't wanna rain on this parade
But I'm starting to question the love that was made
I'm not looking for just an affair
I want a love that is based on truth, not just dare
You will not hurt my pride
If right now you decide
That you are not ready to settle down
But if you want my heart
Then it's time that you start
To act like you're mine, in the light and the dark
If you love me, say it
If you trust me, do it
If you want me, show it
If you need me, prove it
"I love you," Anthony said, as if he knew what Sören was thinking.
Sören kissed him, breathless.
You see now actions speak louder than words
So don't just say things that I've already heard
Don't want your body without your soul
I don't want a love who will come here and go
"I love you." Anthony kissed him again. "Love you, love you, love you..."
"Let's go," Sören growled, feeling like he was losing his mind with the lust and longing, need rising in him hot and fierce. It would be a wonder if they made it off the Tube without losing control somehow. They danced and kissed their way out to where their outerwear was being kept.
The chill of the night air was welcome after the heat of the club and Sören's own almost-unbearable body heat in his arousal. Sören watched as his breath steamed the air. Anthony finished his bottle of cider, tossing the glass in the recycling bin near the club; Sören was still working on his beer, though he was almost done. Anthony put an arm around him as they marched in the direction of the Tube station, and though they tried to calm down, it wasn't long before they were kissing each other again, laughing, nuzzling and petting, lost in a moment of perfect joy and wonder of the magic they'd captured together.
That was when trouble started. As they approached a bus stop, taking a short pause from kissing and petting, they saw four young white men - none older than thirty, most in their early twenties if Sören had to guess. Two of the four had heads shaved bald, and the other two had very short buzz cuts. They were all smoking cigarettes - Sören could smell them before he saw them, ready to retch. A couple of them were drinking cans of beer. Sören got an uneasy feeling from the four young men that he couldn't quite put his finger on, except that they were all staring as Sören and Anthony came closer, arm in arm. They'd definitely seen Sören and Anthony engaged in public affection a few meters back.
"Faggots," sneered one of the men.
Sören felt like he could spit. Anthony's grip tightened on Sören. "Just keep walking," Anthony muttered. "Eyes straight ahead..."
Then one of them chucked their beer can at them, which hit Anthony and spilled over his greatcoat. One of the bald ones got right in their path, blocking them.
"Going somewhere?" The bald one made a face. "Going off to bugger each other?"
"Clearly, you find the subject of interest," Anthony said without humor. He attempted to steer Sören diagonally so they could walk around the man blocking them. But then the bald man shoved Anthony hard enough that Anthony almost fell backwards. And when Anthony came forward, a look of pure fury on his face, fists clenched, and Sören could tell he was ready to fight back, two of the men rushed towards him.
"Þið huglausir, ógeðfelldir tíkur synir!" Not thinking, only feeling rage, heart pounding, Sören got between Anthony and the two men about to attack him.
Sören grabbed one, headbutted him as hard as he could, and when the man dropped to his knees, Sören punched him in the gut, shoved him to the ground, and kicked him when he was down. "Fjórir á móti tveimur? Lætur það þér líða eins og raunverulegur maður, já?"
The other lunged for him and got in a few punches - the side of Sören's face, Sören's gut - and then Sören looked at the beer bottle still in his hand and it came down over the bald head. "Rassgat! Veðja að þú sért bara öfundsjúkur að vinir þínir muni ekki ríða þér í rassinn!"
With the broken bottle in his hand, and the man's head bleeding from the glass cuts, Sören hollered, finding his English again, "Take one more fucking step towards me and I'll fucking shank you." He was a surgeon, after all, he knew where to stab someone to maim or even kill, though he was hoping it wouldn't have to come to that.
The bald man, of course, paid that no mind, grinning, and before Sören could stab him with the bottle, now Anthony pounced and grabbed the man's nose, hard, and with his free hand he tugged an ear hard enough to make the man cry out before a knee to the groin, dropping the man as the first one had dropped.
He fights dirty, Sören thought to himself, impressed. And he was a little aroused by the sight of Anthony fighting back, as well.
The bald man who had blocked them came back over to Anthony and threw a punch, with Anthony dodging, then he grabbed the man's arm and wrenched it before giving a hard shove, sending the man spinning into the fourth man of the group just before the other man could punch him. Sören rushed to them, watching them ready themselves for more, and before Sören could spring, Anthony said, his tone icy, "Step aside, please."
Sören did as he was told and watched as Anthony produced a tiny spray bottle. He shook it and just before the two men could fall on them and attack again, Sören watched as Anthony sprayed a red marker dye in one face, then the other, with the men having to protect their faces from the spray, reeling from the sting in their eyes, making noises. Then Anthony grabbed Sören and began marching them away as fast as he could, with the men jeering after them, "FUCKING FAGGOTS! FILTHY ARSE-FUCKERS! DIE OF AIDS, YOU FUCKING BUM-LOVERS!"
Sören watched as Anthony put the spray back in his pocket. "That's... that wasn't pepper spray, was it?"
"No, that's illegal here." Anthony then muttered, "Unfortunately." More loudly, he said, "I just used what's called a 'criminal identifier' spray, which is legal. That dye will be on them for a good few days, even if they try to wash it out."
"I take it you've had some experience using it."
Anthony gave a curt nod. "Once in a great while my job gets... interesting." Anthony pointed ahead. "The station isn't far, love."
"You're not going to call the police?"
"No, not this time - that might cause problems for us too. And hopefully they'll have learned from this experience that some of us faggots actually fight back, might make them think twice." Anthony glared in their general direction.
As they waited for the next train, Sören felt the sickening drop in adrenaline. Anthony's arms were around him as he shook, breathing hard; when Sören felt an asthma attack coming on it was Anthony who reached in Sören's pocket for where he knew Sören kept the inhaler, and handed it to him, petting him as Sören puffed. "There," he said softly. "Train is coming soon. We're almost home."
Sören leaned on him and Anthony's arms tightened around him. Anthony held him the entire ride home, rocking Sören in his arms, not caring who saw them, making little soothing noises.
When they got to Anthony's flat, Anthony told Sören, "Undress, I'll get you some ice for those bruises."
The adrenaline surge and the drop had been enough that in the fight and on the train home, Sören hadn't really felt where he'd been punched. But now he did, wincing as he stripped down. Anthony came in the bedroom with two makeshift ice packs and he handed them to Sören as he began to undress. Once Anthony was in pajamas he joined Sören on the bed and held an ice pack to Sören's stomach so Sören could better hold the pack on his face.
"You're going to have quite a rainbow on your face tomorrow," Anthony said, lips quirking. "I hope your colleagues don't think I beat you."
"I'll tell them you only beat me in the fun way."
Anthony's laughter rang out and he stole a little kiss. Then he gave Sören a stern look. "Sören. What you did back there..."
"You had better not be lecturing me about violence, Anthony Hewlett-Johnson, since you got some licks in yourself."
"It's not that." Anthony's eyes narrowed. "You..." He took a deep breath. "They were coming at me and you got in the way. You shielded me."
"Don't give me that macho crap about how I shouldn't -"
Anthony silenced him with a kiss. Then Anthony said, his tone softer, "I'm touched that you were willing to put yourself in harm's way for me." He tilted Sören's face to his, stroked the non-injured cheek, his eyes soft and sad. "No one's ever done that for me before."
"You're my partner," Sören said, hoping those words explained everything, finding it odd that someone wouldn't do that for their partner.
Anthony kissed him again, harder. They kissed again and again, with Sören finally giving a moan into the kiss as his cock leapt. Anthony noticed and smirked, his free hand reaching to gently rub the bulge in Sören's boxer-briefs.
"It's funny you think I would lecture you in any way about self-defense," Anthony said, his voice husky. "Especially when you were so hot out there." He claimed Sören's mouth fiercely, and then he began to kiss Sören's neck, making Sören whimper and shiver, cock twinging again. Anthony's hand rubbed him more insistently. "I've got my very own Viking."
"You were pretty hot yourself," Sören rasped. "I didn't know you could fight."
"No, of course not. People don't expect the pretty lawyer boy to be able to hold his own. It can be useful when people underestimate me, just as it can be useful when people fear me." Anthony's eyes flashed. "For the record, I've taken some self-defense courses out of... necessity. Again, my job has been interesting at times."
"I bet." Sören stroked Anthony's face. "I didn't mean to offend you -"
"I know. And you didn't, really."
"If I did, you could just... take it out on me." Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip.
Anthony kissed him roughly with a growl, shoving Sören back against the pillows. The sensuality of the nightclub and the aggression of the fight made a volatile mixture, exploding into passion as Sören found himself rending the fabric of Anthony's pajamas, giving Anthony an evil grin as the silk ripped and dropped to the floor. Anthony bit Sören's neck in response, and then nibbled and licked his way down before he took the waistband of Sören's underwear in his teeth and yanked it down in his teeth, Sören moaning as his hard, aching cock sprang free. When Sören's boxer-briefs were down his thighs, Anthony came up and snatched them off, kissing Sören feverishly as he removed the offending barrier between them.
It was Sören's turn to bite back, biting Anthony's shoulder, making him cry out. Then Sören rolled Anthony onto his back, Anthony giving him a feral look as Sören rose, reaching for the lubricant. Just as Sören was about to push slick fingers into him Anthony grabbed Sören's wrists and shoved Sören onto his side, and the two struggled for dominance, hard cocks rubbing against each other, kissing, biting, grabbing. Sören pinned Anthony on his back and smirked against the little whimper Anthony made into the kiss as Sören's fingers pushed inside him as intended, Anthony fucking himself on Sören's fingers once they found the sweet spot inside him.
A moment later Sören's cock was in him, Sören kissing him hard. Sören showed no mercy, rocking into him hard and fast. Anthony bucked underneath him, biting him, growling, making primal guttural noises, nails scratching Sören's back and ass and the backs of his thighs, the sweet sting of his nails driving Sören wild, fucking him harder. They didn't last long, Anthony shattering within minutes, screaming Sören's name as he shot over Sören's stomach, and Sören bit his neck, making Anthony sob as another load spent out of him. Sören hadn't come yet - close to it, as he felt Anthony contracting around him - and after more hot, fierce kisses Anthony ground out, "Again," and Sören propped a leg up on his shoulder and gave it to him even harder than before, his own voice rising with his lover's. Sören heard himself losing his English again as he rasped, "Taktu það eins og maður, eins og þú ert minn, sýndu mér hversu villtur þú ert."
"Oh god." Anthony's nails dug into Sören's hips. "Oh, shit..." His hips rocked back against Sören's, and Sören gave a deep, animal grunt, pounding into him harder.
"Það er það. Ég mun ríða rassinum þínum eins hart og þú getur tekið."
"Sören." Anthony shuddered. "Sören..." His breath hitched, and Sören could see it in his eyes. Anthony came again with a cry, and now Sören came too as he watched Anthony's cock spurting, felt the hot seed splash over his chest and stomach, felt the sweet clenching around him, saw the look of ecstasy on Anthony's face as he trembled, gasping for breath.
Sören settled down, giving Anthony a few kisses and then laying on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. He slipped out, and Anthony collected some of the still-leaking cum on his fingers and stuck them in Sören's mouth, Sören sucking his fingers as Anthony pet him. Sören felt arousal building again at the act of sucking Anthony's fingers, feeling his touch, and soon enough Anthony was ready to go again, taking his fingers out of Sören's mouth, grabbing Sören's curls, and maneuvering to get behind him. Sören gasped out "yes, yes, yes," as he felt lube poured over him, and gave a cry of "YES" as Anthony pushed into him.
Anthony took him hard, riding Sören's ass, pulling Sören's hair. "Oh god, fuck me," Sören cried, bucking underneath him. When Anthony sank down, his chest against Sören's back, his teeth on Sören's neck and shoulder, Sören screamed, working his hips and ass back at Anthony even harder than Anthony was fucking him, needing it, utterly consumed by savage lust. Anthony tilted Sören's face to his and kissed him hard, and bit Sören's lower lip. "I love you," Anthony growled, and kissed him hard again, overtaking Sören's rhythm, plowing into Sören with mad, fierce abandon.
A minute later, when Anthony kissed the bruises on the side of Sören's face, Sören climaxed, almost ashamed of the inhuman noises coming out of him as he gave in. "Sören," Anthony called out just before he spent into him, and Sören gave a shuddery sigh at the sweetness of feeling Anthony's molten flow deep within him, claiming him.
The euphoria of orgasm combined with all of the earlier emotions of the evening and Sören erupted into hysterical laughter. Anthony laughed too.
"Oh my god," Sören wheezed. "Oh my fucking god, what is with us."
"I don't know, but I like it." Anthony tenderly kissed Sören's bruised cheek.
Eventually they rolled onto their sides - Anthony still behind him - and Anthony reached for the ice pack that had been on Sören's stomach, melting but still reasonably cold. His arms around Sören's waist, he held it there, and Sören dozed off a little. He stirred, giving a whine of protest, when he felt Anthony get out of bed, and then Anthony came in with ice water and ibuprofen for Sören to take, and fresh ice packs. He turned off the light after Sören took the items out of his hands, the nightlight glowing enough for Sören to see what he was doing.
"My hero," Sören quipped as he downed two ibuprofen with the water.
"I feel that way about you, not jokingly." And then Anthony looked at the clock by the bed. "Wow, we got so caught up in... ravaging each other... that we completely missed it being midnight."
"Is it 2012 now?"
"It's 2012 now." Anthony settled in bed beside him. "Happy New Year."
"Gleðilegt nýtt ár, elskan mín."
They kissed, and laughed, and kissed again. Then they got back into a spoon position, with Anthony holding the ice against Sören's stomach with one hand and his face with the other, and sleepiness settled over Sören once more.
In the middle of the night the throbbing of Sören's bruises woke him up. Anthony was still spooning him, but had fallen asleep at some point and the ice packs were no longer in his hands. Needing to feel him as much as he could, Sören reached out to put his hands on Anthony's arms and they slid down to Anthony's hands. Anthony's breath hitched and he mumbled incoherently, then, "Sören?"
"Jæja, didn't mean to wake you, sorry."
Anthony's arms tightened around him. "S'OK." Anthony squeezed. "You're so warm and cozy."
"Mmmmm, I like feeling you snuggled close to me."
Anthony cleared his throat, and he reached to tap Sören's shoulder, which made Sören giggle, and then Anthony's hand settled back over him and he said, sounding slightly more awake now, "As you were falling asleep I was thinking."
"About?"
"I want you to move in with me."
Sören was not expecting that. "Oh."
"I... know it's soon, but -"
"No, Anthony, it's OK. I... I want to." Sören's heart soared, remembering the feelings he'd had earlier that evening - this is the one, I want to settle down with him. Living together was a step in that direction.
"Oh, good." Anthony gave a little sigh of relief. "It would be more convenient and practical, less travel time with having to go to and from your flat, and... well..." Anthony squeezed him again. "I need you with me."
"You've got me, elskan." Sören heard the huskiness in his own voice, and the tears came, silently. Yes. Yes, this is what I want, this is who I want, this is the life I want, yes...
Anthony tilted Sören's face to his and kissed him. What was supposed to be a sweet little kiss between two sleepy lovers in the middle of the night quickly heated and Sören moaned as he felt Anthony go hard against him.
"Make love to me," Sören whispered. "Just like this."
Anthony slipped into him, the passage eased by Sören being open and slick from earlier. He went much more slowly and gently than before, and it was just right, with Sören as sensitized as he is. Sören moaned, and Anthony did too, before he kissed Sören's neck and shoulder.
"We can work out details tomorrow," Anthony whispered. "Though I'd like to have you moved in by next weekend -"
"We'll work all that out." Sören patted him. "Right now is not lawyer time. It's lover time."
Anthony laughed. "Sorry." He tilted Sören's face and kissed his mouth, the two groaning as their tongues teased and played. Anthony's hand strayed lower, to stroke Sören's hard cock. Then the other hand brushed a nipple, pebbled in the night air, making Sören gasp.
It wasn't long before Anthony was moving inside him faster, tormenting Sören with kisses over his sensitive neck, rubbing his aching nipples, the pleasure around Sören's cock and inside him mounting. When Sören felt himself right there, he warned, "Anthony, don't stop, I'm gonna -"
"Yes, darling. Come with me."
They came together, kissing, moaning and crying out into the kiss. Anthony's fingers moved up from where he was teasing Sören's nipples to stroke his face, and the hand that had been on Sören's cock was on his heart, now, such tenderness that it brought tears to Sören's eyes.
Anthony squeezed him and whispered, "Welcome home."
chapter 10 | return to Learning To Fly | return to Other Tolkien Fic | return to index