Valentine's Day fell on a Tuesday this year; Sören had an overnight shift Monday night into Tuesday afternoon, which gave him the evening uninterrupted. He took a nap when he got home, while Anthony was still at Lincoln's Inn, and then Anthony woke him up by brushing a flower over his face, making Sören smile, leading to Sören giggling as Anthony rained kisses over him. Anthony had brought home a bouquet of stargazer lilies for Sören, who loved it, and promptly put the flowers in Sprite in a vase.
Anthony brought home something else for Sören as well, a small box that was waiting on the coffee table when Sören went to the bathroom and came back out for tea. Anthony sat, hands folded on his chest, watching intently as Sören opened the box. Sören's laughter rang out when he saw what was inside - it was a vibrating buttplug.
It was not simply a vibrating buttplug, but it was one with a remote-controlled vibrator. Anthony wanted to demonstrate, so after Sören lubed up and put it in - it was a tight fit, though not painful - he sat down on the couch and Anthony turned the switch on the tiny remote control, the vibrator starting inside Sören on its lowest setting. Sören moaned as the vibe purred away on his prostate; even on its lowest setting it was still delicious, and Anthony gave him a wicked grin.
Anthony wanted Sören to wear the plug while they went out to dinner, which Sören thought was quite kinky of him - but he liked it. Anthony had reservations for a table for two at an upmarket surf-and-turf. He made a game of turning on the vibe when the waiter came by to take their order, with the vibe quietly purring away inside Sören as he tried to articulate what he wanted from the menu. Then when the waiter came back with their drinks, Anthony turned the vibe up, and Sören bit back a moan. Anthony turned the vibe back down to its lowest setting after a couple minutes, and when the waiter came back with their food, Anthony turned the vibe up again. The predatory look Anthony gave Sören as they ate made Sören ache to be taken right there, and of course the game wasn't over yet. When the waiter came round to ask how everything was, Anthony turned the vibe up to its next setting and Sören struggled to make words - he was very sure at this point the waiter must think he had some kind of speech impediment. Sören ordered fresh fruit for dessert, and when the waiter came back, Anthony turned the vibe as high as it could go, and kept it buzzing away as he fed Sören pieces of fruit.
"Don't you dare come yet," Anthony whispered as he put a strawberry in Sören's mouth.
Sören gave a little whimper in response. The teasing with the vibe at different speeds was so intense Sören could barely stand it, and now he was right on the verge of coming in his pants and Anthony dangled him on that edge of orgasm, dominating him, holding back his release. Sören was rock-hard when they got up from the table - grateful that his coat would hide the erection as they made their way out of the restaurant - and as he walked, the friction of walking combined with the vibration inside him in such a way that Sören almost came, desperately holding back. He was a wreck when they got in the Audi, panting, shaking, whimpering, and begged, "Please."
Anthony laughed at him and turned the vibe down to its lowest setting. Still working inside him, but now more gently than before - teasing and teasing. And as Anthony drove back to the flat in Kingston, Sören felt like screaming, the tension in him building and building, ready to explode, made all the more maddening because Anthony looked so damn hot knowing he was in control here, reveling in the power he had over Sören, enjoying this way too much.
When they got back to the flat Sören couldn't stand it anymore. He began pawing Anthony as soon as they got their coats and shoes off. "Now," Sören begged.
Anthony laughed softly. "What's the rush, darling? I've been teasing you for the last two hours, surely another few minutes won't hurt -"
"RIGHT. FUCKING. NOW." Sören began pushing Anthony back towards the couch. When they were at the edge of the couch, Sören gave Anthony a shove, and then he fell on Anthony's knee, reaching down to undo his belt and trousers, then his own. Anthony reached to pull the plug out of Sören's ass, and slapped it hard. Sören's already-hard cock leapt, precum pooling out of the slit down the shaft, and Sören's breath hitched.
"Well then." Anthony, his own hard cock free now, grabbed Sören's hips and pulled Sören over to straddle him. Sören was already lubed up to wear the plug, and plenty open and ready from the plug having teased him so long. Sören gasped and moaned as Anthony stretched him, filled him, buried to the hilt, and Anthony gave a deep groan of satisfaction when he was all the way inside that almost set Sören off to climax.
Sören began to ride slowly - everything was so intense, after all that teasing. But Anthony was having none of that. "If you're so impatient and desperate for it," Anthony rasped, "then it's time you got what you wanted." He grabbed Sören's hips again and began to fuck him hard, with Sören grabbing onto his shoulders as he bounced away, screaming with pleasure as Anthony's cock found that exquisite rhythm inside him, rubbing just the right way, stoking Sören's fire hotter and hotter, now blazing out of control. And as much as Sören loved the sight of his man naked, there was something appealing about them being mostly fully clothed still, so hungry for it that they didn't even bother to get past freeing the parts that fit together, and Anthony still in his suit and tie just added to that feeling of being dominated, commanded. Sören loved it, utterly lost in the wild ride, so badly needing to come and yet so badly needing to be fucked like this, claimed, taken.
Sören's screams became broken cries, and then little whimpers, gasping for breath, his entire body quivering. Sören tried to beg "please", and it came out as a little whine. Anthony laughed, took Sören's hand and kissed it, and then held it.
"You are so beautiful right now," Anthony husked.
Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip, heat flooding his cheeks. He wanted to smile, but he was too far gone, a shuddering sharp exhale pushing out of him as the throbbing, teasing pleasure intensified, his need intensified. He let out a moan. Anthony could see how much precum Sören's cock was leaking, and he collected some of it on his fingers to taste - further driving Sören mad with lust - then he anointed his fingers again and stuck them in Sören's mouth for him to suck. With Anthony's fingers in Sören's mouth, and Anthony's other hand now playing with Sören's cock, he looked into Sören's eyes and commanded, "Come."
Sören finally let go. The teasing and the hard fucking paid off into an explosive, shattering orgasm, Sören howling around the fingers in his mouth then giving a louder shout when his mouth was freed. He spent and spent and spent, his cum making a mess all over Anthony's dark navy suit and matching waistcoat. Anthony moaned and sighed as he came too - Sören smiled and made a purring noise as he felt the rush inside him, felt Anthony shaking underneath him - and then Anthony laughed as he saw Sören's cock continue to shoot. Sören laughed now too, hard enough that he started snorting, which made Anthony laugh even harder. When Sören collapsed on top of him, Anthony threw his arms around him and gave him a little kiss, grinning.
"I'm sorry," Sören wheezed.
"Hi Sorry."
Sören gave him a mock glare; Anthony grinned again and tweaked Sören's nose before kissing the tip of Sören's nose. "Don't be sorry," Anthony said. "I would have to send it for dry cleaning anyway, and... besides, it was worth it."
They snuggled on the couch for a bit, until they were recovered sufficiently to pull themselves off. They got undressed - Anthony started laughing again at the mess Sören made on his suit - and then Anthony said, "Here, now that we've both taken the edge off, I can spoil you properly."
With that, Anthony drew them a bubble bath, and they cuddled in the heat and bubbles by candlelight, drinking champagne in the tub. Sören would never stop being amused by the tub being a tight fit with two tall men in there, nonetheless, it was nice and relaxing, and they had a bit of fun splashing each other. Sören also used his thumb and forefinger as a bubble wand, blowing bubbles at Anthony across the tub, laughing hysterically when one landed on his nose.
"Oh, if the court could see you now," Sören said.
"Oh god." Anthony rolled his eyes, shaking with silent laughter. "That would rather destroy my reputation."
"It would be even worse if you were wearing George in here." Sören snickered. "He needs a bath."
"I explained to you why he looks all ragged." Anthony then caught himself, facepalming. "I just referred to that wig as a he. Sören, what have you done to me."
"Have you asked him if he wants to be all grungy-looking like that, or if he'd rather have a bath?" Sören couldn't resist teasing him. "I mean, shouldn't George get a say in his appearance?"
Anthony glared, but his eyes crinkled at the corners. "Sören Sigurðsson, I swear to god."
"Which god? The god of wigs? Jesus? Thor?" Then Sören quipped, "Wow, I appear to have invented a new deity here. The god of wigs, Jesus-Thor..."
Anthony splashed him. Sören splashed him back, then he pretended to start to get out of the tub. "I'm going to get George and see if he wants to take a bath with us -"
Anthony shoved him back and started tickling him. Sören giggled and shrieked helplessly, kicking around, until Anthony moved in such a way that Sören decided to see if he was ticklish as well, getting him underarm, and sure enough he was. They tickled each other mercilessly until Sören was making inhuman snorts that made Anthony tear up and double over at the sound of them.
"Now if your patients could hear that..." Anthony chuckled. "Great thing to wake up to out of surgery, that noise. They'd think they were waking up in one of the levels of Hell..."
"Jæja, fuck you." Sören giggled and splashed him again.
When they decided they'd had enough of the tub, Anthony and Sören carried the still-burning votives and tealights out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, and lit more candles around the bedroom. Anthony had Sören lay down on his stomach and he took out the vanilla-flavored massage oil and spent the next hour working Sören over, rubbing down the back of him then the front, continuing to deepen Sören's relaxation while also building his arousal again. As his hands kneaded, Anthony had the plug going inside Sören again to further build the sexual tension back up, changing speeds up and down depending on where his hands were and how Sören was responding. When Sören lay on his back looking up at Anthony - who himself was rock hard - every now and again Anthony's hand would "accidentally" brush Sören's hard cock, smiling as it leapt to his touch. At last Anthony dove down, and turned up the vibe to a higher setting as he began to lick Sören's cock... just licking it up and down, from the head to the shaft and back again, teasing, making Sören writhe and pant and gasp and whimper.
When Sören finally let out a breathy "please," Anthony just grinned at him and licked even more slowly and deliberately. Sören howled, almost sobbing, and begged "Please. Please, fucking please..." and then, looking in Anthony's eyes, he whispered, "Please, brother."
Anthony took the plug out of Sören, and Sören thought for sure Anthony was going to replace it with his cock, but instead Anthony's tongue pushed into him. And for the next while that tongue took him to heaven, and higher than heaven, licking inside him so lusciously, as good as anything had ever felt in Sören's life, his prostate as exquisitely sensitive as it was. Anthony ate him by turns delicately and passionately, his tongue switching speeds as the vibrating plug had, but even better, more precise. Sören heard himself screaming, felt himself rocking his hips like he was possessed by the animal part of him, fucking himself desperately on Anthony's tongue, which made Anthony grab Sören's hips, holding him in place, and his tongue slowed down even more. But at last, Anthony devoured him and let go of Sören's hips, Sören thrusting to match the rhythm of the tongue fucking away inside him, and like that Sören gave in to one of the most intense orgasms he'd ever had, pleasure so good it made him cry. Anthony came up to kiss his tears, pulled Sören close and rocked him.
"Thank you," Sören breathed, the euphoria bathing him in light, in heat, feeling love so fiercely, so much it hurt. "I love you. Thank you. Takk ástin mín, ég elska þig."
Anthony kissed Sören's brow and looked into his eyes, stroking Sören's cheek. "I loved doing that for you. I love you."
"I guess you did," Sören laughed, reaching for Anthony's hard cock, completely slick with precum. "Whatever shall we do with this?"
"Whatever you want, love."
Sören lay Anthony back against the pillows, and took Anthony's cock into his mouth. He sucked slowly at first - paying him back at least a little for all the teasing - but lust got the better of him and a few minutes into it he was sucking harder, faster, his own cock hardening up again at Anthony's moans, the look of ecstasy on his face as Sören pleasured him. It didn't take long for Anthony to be undone, flooding Sören's mouth, who savored every drop as he swallowed it down and licked him clean.
As Sören lay there cradled against Anthony's chest while Anthony recovered, Sören licked his lips, loving the lingering taste of him, and when Anthony pulled him into a kiss, Sören husked, "I want seconds."
Anthony smiled. "Only if I can taste you too."
Sören smiled back. "I think that can be arranged."
Sören sat on Anthony's shoulders, and leaned down, laying on top of him. Anthony moaned into Sören as his tongue pushed inside and Sören's mouth wrapped around his cock; Sören moaned with his mouth full as Anthony's tongue worked its magic inside him once more. After awhile they lay at each other's sides, both sucking and rimming each other, taking their time getting there, completely lost in each other and the need to please and be pleasured. And when they could feel each other at the point of no return, they took each other's hands and climaxed together, filling each other's mouths, crying out with their mouths full.
Kissing, sharing the taste of them together, Sören needed more. Anthony lay back and Sören repaid him some more for his teasing, working his tongue inside him, stroking himself to the deliciousness of Anthony's moans and sighs and the heat in his eyes. When Anthony grabbed Sören's curls, pulling him up, Sören was still in a teasing mood, fucking him slowly at first, savoring the silken heat kissing his cock. And then Anthony slapped Sören's ass and growled, making Sören's cock throb, and with one of Anthony's legs on Sören's shoulder, Sören gave him the savage, punishing thrusts he wanted - that Sören himself wanted, loving that feeling of the beast in him coming out to play, taking. After awhile Anthony pulled Sören down against him and clawed his back, kissing feverishly as he worked his hips back at Sören, urging him on even harder, until Sören didn't know who was fucking who. Sören cried out at Anthony's teeth on his neck and shoulder, and the feeling of Anthony's nails raking him with each moan Anthony made threatened to send Sören over the edge, but he held back, wanting his lover to come first. And at last Anthony did, giving in to a loud, messy orgasm that Sören found deeply gratifying, throwing back his head and crying out as he spent into the man he loved.
It still wasn't enough. When Sören slipped out of him, Anthony rolled Sören onto his back, produced a black cashmere scarf, and tied Sören's wrists to the headboard, looking tenderly into Sören's eyes as Sören looked up at him with love and trust. Anthony fucked him slowly, sweetly, teasing Sören some more, kissing him again and again. When Anthony kissed and nipped at Sören's neck and throat, he rasped, "I should get you a leash and collar." Sören's cock throbbed at that, loving the thought of it, and he kissed Anthony back hard, bucking underneath him to encourage it. Anthony laughed and kept moving slowly a few minutes longer, and then when Sören moaned, "Please, brother," Anthony gave in to his own lust, driving into Sören furiously as Sören howled and writhed. Dozens of hungry kisses later, Sören met Anthony's eyes and begged, "Let me come." And with Anthony's teeth on Sören's throat, giving a growl, Sören let go, surrendering, exploding. Feeling Anthony spend into him, hearing him call out, "Sören, I love you," just made it even better.
At some point Sören was aware of being untied, and Anthony getting up to snuff out the candles - Sören whined in protest of the suddenly cold, empty space in bed. Anthony got back in when the lights were off and cuddled Sören against him with a soft chuckle, tousling Sören's curls, skritching his beard. Sören made a purring noise and Anthony teased, "My little kitten," before giving Sören a kiss. Sören went to sleep with a smile on his face.
Sören woke up the next day still smiling, and before he and Anthony had to leave for their respective jobs Sören took Anthony again, the two of them reaching a powerful orgasm like the hours of sleep they'd gotten was too long apart and they were pent up and starving for each other. The endorphin rush made Sören giggly on the way to work.
Sören's good mood was infectious - even colleagues who'd been bitter and grumpy yesterday about being alone on Valentine's Day, couldn't help smiling back at Sören. All felt right with the world, a mood that continued when he performed a scan to show a patient their progress, that they were on the road to recovery.
And then it all came crashing down in the afternoon.
Sören had a pediatric patient, a little girl with a brain tumor who was scared and crying, and her parents were scared and crying. And though the surgery being performed gave her a strong shot at survival, it was still harrowing for everyone involved. Sören really felt for the parents, who were a wreck, and he especially felt bad that they would have to wait in the lobby rather than being allowed in the operating theatre. But he felt worst of all for the sweet child he was about to operate on, and though he tried to use his warm, gentle, and somewhat playful bedside manner to get her to calm down and smile a little, he knew she was still upset when she went under, and he, too, was upset - collected and concentrating on the procedure, as he had to be - but upset nonetheless.
The two types of patients that came in that were always hardest for him emotionally were the trauma cases, usually someone in an accident who needed emergency spinal surgery or something else, and the pediatrics. Sören had been asked more than once if he intended to further specialize in pediatric neurosurgery since children seemed to universally like him and he had a way of soothing them, but Sören's answer to that was always no. He would take the occasional pediatric patient that came in to National that had to be worked on by the general neurosurgeons while the pediatric specialists had their hands full, or they were available but needed help on an operating team. But having more than 75% of his cases be pediatrics felt like a recipe for Sören to have a nervous breakdown, not that he ever replied in those exact words, but he was always a mess after dealing with children even when the procedure went well, even when he and their families knew the child had a reasonable prognosis. He didn't like seeing children suffer. It was that, even more than his own experiences, which made him an agnostic - if there was a God, he thought that being must be downright evil for inflicting that kind of pain on something so small and helpless.
The look of fear in the little girl's eyes stayed with him when he took the Tube home. After he'd washed up and changed into his pajamas he tried to distract himself by drawing on his new WaCom tablet, but he was too distraught.
He ended up doing something he had not done in a long time. He went into his closet, into the suitcase that had come with him from Iceland to England. In the suitcase, he had tucked a pillowcase. It had come out a few times after his move from Iceland, when he lived in the flat in Bromley, but he hadn't touched it since moving in with Anthony. Now, though, he needed to. It was not the pillowcase itself, but what was inside it. He dragged it to bed and curled up with it in the fetal position - not falling asleep, but just holding it. Crying, silently and not-so-silently.
That was how Anthony found him when he got in.
"Sören?" Anthony paused in the doorframe of the bedroom.
Sören opened his eyes and looked up at Anthony, who was giving him a concerned look. Sören tried to manage a smile, but Anthony knew, of course, that something was wrong. Still in his suit and tie, Anthony sat on the edge of the bed and began petting Sören. "Sweetheart, what is it? What happened?"
Sören let out a deep sigh. It took him a moment to find his words. "I had to perform surgery on an eight-year-old girl with a brain tumor today. I fucking hate, hate seeing kids with serious health issues like that, scared and in pain..." And Sören broke down, weeping. "I hate it so much. So much."
Anthony swallowed hard. He reached out and pulled Sören into his arms, seeming to not care that Sören was messily crying on the shoulder of his Brooks Brothers suit. He pet Sören's curls, rubbed his back. "Oh, love. You've got such a sensitive heart, and it's one of the things I love the most about you."
Sören snuffled. "I used to get all kinds of shit about it growing up. In school, and..." His voice trailed off, not wanting to say and at home, from my aunt and uncle.
That was rather why he had what he had in the pillowcase. Anthony patted it. "What's this? It feels like there's something in it."
Sören sighed again.
Anthony cupped Sören's chin in his hand and made Sören meet his eyes. "You can tell me, you know."
Sören handed the pillowcase to Anthony. He didn't want to deal with opening it up and taking the contents out himself.
Anthony opened up the pillowcase, reached inside, and then he pulled out the head of a cornflower blue cloth rabbit, with a kind face and big, floppy ears. Stuffing was coming out of the head. Anthony exhaled sharply. He reached inside again and pulled out the arms, a chest and stomach attached to a leg, another leg. The parts were assembled on the bed, and Anthony frowned.
There was a long moment of silence before Sören could explain it. His voice shook as he did. "My mamma made it for me before she died. His name is Bláberja, which means, ah, Blueberry in Icelandic. I wanted him to be blue, that's my favorite color." Tears spilled down Sören's cheeks again. "It's the only thing I have from her."
"What happened to him?" Anthony's voice was quiet but firm, insistent, not willing to let this go.
"My uncle Einar happened to him." Sören pinched the bridge of his nose, bracing himself for the flood of memories and emotions. "Einar thought I was too old for something like that, and that boys shouldn't have stuffed animals besides, that I was 'soft'. Einar was always picking on me about not being a 'real man'. And, well, I didn't get rid of my bunny. I couldn't. I hid him, and I took him out when I needed comfort. I needed quite a bit of that, between getting mocked and sometimes beat up in school, and then coming home and my aunt and uncle were drinking and got violent and mean when they were drunk." Sören realized this was the first time he'd really gotten in-depth with Anthony about what his childhood had been like, though Anthony knew from their first meeting Sören's guardians had been alcoholics.
Then Anthony said, "I'd got that from... the scars on your back. The ink covers it but it's still noticeable."
"You never miss a thing, do you?" Sören knew he shouldn't have been surprised, but he was surprised anyway. He went on. "One night Einar was drinking and he started fucking with me, as usual. I thought he passed out drunk and that it was safe to get my bunny, and then he came back for more, saw me with him again, and..." Sören took a few deep breaths but he started shaking, seeing it in his mind's eye.
"Jesus." Anthony winced.
Then he caught Sören in a fierce, tight hug. "Sören. I'm so sorry."
"So am I." Sören broke down again, sobbing. "I didn't have the heart to get rid of the scraps. I don't know how to sew... I still don't, actually. I can perform fucking surgery, but I don't know how to sew, like, cloth. So I've had the pieces all this time, in that pillowcase. I can't hold my bunny as-is anymore when I get sad, but I can hold the pillowcase and it's almost like..." He couldn't finish the sentence.
Anthony rocked him. Sören was making a mess on his suit again. Anthony patted him and said, "I'm going to get up and get changed, it won't be long."
Anthony changed into pajamas in front of him and then he got back on the bed, this time laying on the bed instead of sitting on the edge. He drew Sören against him, cradling Sören against his chest, legs twining, and he started rocking Sören again, petting, as Sören cried and cried. "Shhhhh. It's OK."
"You..." Sören didn't sense any judgment in Anthony about this, but after what he'd been through with Einar, and all of the macho posturing he'd seen in school and even occasionally at work with fellow doctors, Sören never knew how people would react to a grown man needing a stuffed toy. "You don't think any less of me for this, do you?"
"Hardly. For starters, it's incredibly sweet and adorable that you kept him all this time." Anthony kissed Sören's brow, stroked his cheek, and gave him a sad smile. Sören saw the tears in Anthony's own eyes, crying silently in solidarity with him. Knowing Anthony didn't cry much, and was now crying for him, made Sören lose it again, and this time Anthony didn't try to keep his own tears silent and contained, trembling against Sören, giving a shuddery little gasp. A few minutes later, when Anthony had pulled himself together again, he said, "And I would be a hypocrite if I judged you."
"Hm?" Sören raised an eyebrow.
Anthony patted Sören, detangled from him, and swung off the bed. Sören watched as Anthony went to the closet. "Are you getting George?" Sören asked, not able to resist the moment of levity.
Anthony snorted, gave Sören the finger, and opened the closet. He got on his knees, to where he kept his shoes, and opened a shoebox that Sören had presumed had shoes in it. With his hands behind his back, Anthony came over to the bed and then he pulled out what he was hiding behind him - a worn-looking stuffed lion that was nonetheless in good condition.
"This is Finn," Anthony said. "I've had him since I was four, which makes him twenty-eight now."
"Wow."
"Once in a great while, when I have had an especially crap week at the Inn, Finn comes out to sleep with me." Anthony pushed Finn into Sören's arms. "I can't sew, Sören, or I'd repair your bunny in a heartbeat. The only person I know who can sew is my gran, and she hasn't done it in years, she has arthritis, and she's usually off galavanting in Europe with Donovan. And I'm not trying to replace your bunny. But if you need a soft friend to comfort you right now, you can borrow Finn."
Sören was indescribably touched - not just at the thoughtfulness of the gesture but that Anthony, himself, had secretly kept a stuffed toy all this time that he occasionally brought out for comfort. Sören started to cry again. Sören was a bit exasperated with himself for crying so much, especially now that it was exhausting him, but he couldn't help it. He held Finn and watched as Anthony gingerly put the pieces of the bunny back in the pillowcase. "Do you want this out for awhile, or shall I put him back where you got him from?" Anthony asked.
"Out for awhile, if you don't mind."
Anthony leaned in to kiss Sören's brow. "I don't mind at all." Then he tousled Sören's curls and rubbed his shoulder. "I'll give you some time, I'll be back in a little while."
Sören heard the sound of Anthony puttering around in the kitchen, and assumed Anthony was making tea. And then, just as Sören was about to doze off for a bit with Finn in his arms, Anthony came back in the bedroom and said, "Sören? I made you grilled cheese."
Anthony knew that grilled cheese was Sören's favorite food, not exciting or fancy but it was still his favorite nonetheless, something comforting. And that Anthony had made him his favorite - right down to the exact, precise type of grilled cheese, Swiss on rye, with a side of tomato soup - touched him again, making Sören cry a little as he came out and saw the food waiting for him.
"It was the least I could do." Anthony pulled Sören onto his shoulder and tousled his curls again, kissed the top of his forehead. "I can't cook worth a damn, but I can make that, and you said you like it..."
Sören threw his arms around him and gave him a kiss.
After they ate - and then had tea, the cure for all ills - Anthony curled up with a Tolstoy book and cuddled Sören, who held Finn some more as he zoned out to the BBC. Sören was emotionally drained enough to be exhausted, and eventually Anthony got up to do dishes, turned off the TV and the living room light, and picked up Sören from the couch - Sören holding onto Finn - and carried him down the hall to the bedroom. He tucked Sören in and got beside him, and just continued holding Sören as they fell asleep.
Sören ended up dreaming about the girl he operated on, who then morphed into himself at eight years old, and Einar calling him a "sissy girl". And Einar knocked over the tray-cart of surgical tools and snarled, "You want something to cry about? I'll give you something to cry about" and began to beat Sören as he had beaten him many times before, finally ripping Sören apart as he had ripped apart the bunny. "I'll show you surgery, you pathetic cunt!"
Sören woke up screaming, gasping for breath. Anthony was next to him and he threw his arms around Sören, holding him tight, rocking him. Sören started to cry, as much with anger for himself for still hurting years later, not able to get over it, frustrated that Einar still owned space in his head.
"Goddammit," Sören sobbed.
"Bad dream?"
Sören nodded and buried his face in Anthony's shoulder, letting out a wail.
"Oh, sweetheart." Anthony pet Sören's curls and kissed the top of Sören's head. He cupped Sören's chin in his hand and kissed Sören's tears, and in the glow of the nightlight Sören could see Anthony was starting to cry too, once again moved to tears for him. "It was Einar, wasn't it?" Anthony's own voice broke a little, and he looked furious through his tears.
Sören nodded. "I hate that son of a bitch. I wish he was fucking dead, and I don't say that sort of thing about people, as a rule. But I want him dead."
"Listen, if you killed him, I'd fight for you tooth and nail. People who abuse children are the worst sort of filth. I've had a few clients who fought back against their parents, or against partners who were abusing their children - I represented a woman pro bono who killed a man for... well, never mind, you get the picture. But as a lawyer I must advise you nonetheless to not murder him." Anthony then muttered, "I'll be advising myself of this as well, to not hop on a flight to Iceland..."
Sören cried harder. He wasn't used to someone being angry on his behalf, let alone someone crying for him. "I wouldn't be able to do it, anyway. He's right. I'm weak."
"Sören. Listen to me. You may not be able to kill him - a lot of people can't bring themselves to cross that line. Much as I have to remind myself of this when it often feels the opposite in my line of work, most people aren't killers. The human race would be extinct now otherwise. But it doesn't make you weak. You're not weak at all. You are far, far stronger than you know."
"No, I'm not." Sören sobbed. "I'm really not, Anthony. Look at me. I'm twenty-seven fucking years old, crying because I had a nightmare about my uncle beating me up."
"Yes, Sören, it will still hurt. One of the reasons why abuse is so heinous is because it never stops once the act is done. The victim gets to live with that memory for the rest of their life. It sounds like on the whole, you have more bad memories than good. It makes total sense to me that it would still affect you. But that still doesn't make you weak. Not in the slightest."
Sören didn't know what else to say. He kept crying, and Anthony held him and rocked him and pet him. "Shhhh," Anthony soothed. "You're here now. You're safe with me. I've got you. I won't let him hurt you. I won't let anyone hurt you."
"I'm sorry," Sören rasped. "I'm sorry I'm like this. I know you need your sleep..."
"Sören, for once stop fucking worrying about everyone other than yourself. I shall manage. And again, you need to stop being so hard on yourself. If our situation was reversed, would you be telling me that I'm weak for crying, I'm not a 'real man', I should shut up?"
"Well, no." Sören snuffled. "I wouldn't say that to anyone -"
"So why the bloody hell is it acceptable to tell yourself that?"
Sören sighed. Anthony kissed his brow.
After a few more moments of silence - after Sören's tears began to subside, all cried out, at least the noisy part of it - Anthony spoke, his voice husky with emotion. "Sören, when we first met back in November, I was impressed with you right away. I knew, when you mentioned your guardians were alcoholics, that you'd likely been abused, and that was rather confirmed to me when I saw your back for the first time. And the fact is, so many of my clients come from horrific backgrounds like your own. Many times, they go down the wrong path because they don't know anything else. You would have been remarkable to me as you are, without having any kind of tragic past. Becoming a doctor is hard, I daresay it is at least as hard as becoming a lawyer and probably much, much harder. It takes a tremendous amount of strength to survive medical school and go on to work the kinds of hours you do, see the kinds of things you do, and have so much heart to help people, to want to save lives and make a difference. It is that much more remarkable to me that you chose this path after what you've gone through. That in the face of the cruelty shown to you, you chose not to return cruelty to the world, but to show the warmth and compassion that you yourself needed growing up. There is a light inside you that has endured through tremendous darkness. Despite everything, you still shine. You still burn. That is the opposite of weakness to me. When I wrote that first love note to you, with the flowers, I didn't just choose 'Walks In Beauty' by Byron because you're physically attractive, I meant - and still mean - that you're a beautiful person. With a beautiful heart. A beautiful spirit." Anthony gave him a soft, sweet, lingering kiss. "You are my spirit of fire, and I feel honored that you chose me to bask in that warm glow."
Sören broke down again. Just when he thought he was done with the ugly crying, he cried even harder, uglier - this time touched by Anthony's words, eloquent yet earnest.
Anthony rocked Sören some more. "I love you."
"That was beautiful," Sören cried.
Anthony kissed his tears.
Sören grasped at levity; his eyes and face hurt from crying. "You are such a goddamn lawyer."
Anthony chuckled, and he swatted Sören's ass.
Sören kept going. "You know what would have made that speech even better? If you were wearing George."
Anthony's laughter rang out, and he swatted Sören's ass again, harder. "Piss off." He gave Sören a kiss. "Besides, getting the wig would mean having to get up, and I don't particularly want to stop holding you right now."
"All right, well..." Sören reached for Finn in the glow of the nightlight and put him on Anthony's head. "I guess this will have to do. Tell me again about how I'm beautiful..."
"You're a beautiful little shit."
"Takk."
They laughed, and cried, and laughed some more, and then Sören lost it when he noticed Finn was still sitting on Anthony's head. "You should wear that the next time you have court..."
"Dear god."
"Let George have some time off, let Finn see the world a bit..."
"You are the most ridiculous thing in existence." Anthony kissed him.
"I try."
"And I love to hear you laugh." Anthony stroked Sören's face. "Your... brand of... insanity... helps keep me sane. I need it."
"I know."
Anthony pulled Sören closer and husked, "I need you."
Sören kissed him. "I know. I need you too."
Anthony kissed him back, harder, and then Sören giggled, "You still have a cat on your head."
"I swear to god."
A few moments later, Anthony took Finn off his head, put him in Sören's arms, and got up to bring Sören some ice water - once again, like he'd read Sören's mind that Sören was a bit thirsty - and after Sören drank it, then he settled behind Sören, his chest against Sören's back, arms around him, spooning him. "I've got your back," Anthony whispered, and kissed Sören's cheek.
Sören lay there and tried to get to sleep, but the feel of Anthony against him, and the lingering emotions from those words, and the need to be in a better place for awhile kept him awake, feeling vaguely aroused, and then not so vaguely, when Anthony snuggled closer and his hands slid down Sören's body.
"Anthony?"
"Hm?"
"Make love to me? Just like this."
Anthony quickly readied them both and slipped inside, and held Sören tight as he thrust slowly, achingly slowly, sweetly. Anthony cupped Sören's face and tilted it so they could kiss, and nuzzle, and make eye contact in the glow of the nightlight. Anthony kissed Sören's neck and shoulder. And at last, he kissed over the scars on the upper portion of Sören's back, closest to the shoulderblades, as he thrust harder, faster.
"My spirit of fire," he husked between kisses. "They couldn't quench you. Your heart still burns. There is so much love in you, so much passion in you, and I love you, need you, want you."
Tears burned Sören's eyes again, and Anthony kissed the tears that flowed, then claimed Sören's mouth fiercely, deeply, as he moved in for the kill, arms tight around Sören's waist, stroking Sören's cock in time with thrusts that felt like Anthony's own inner fire revealed, consuming him, two fires burning as one. Sören shattered, sobbing, and a moment later Anthony was done, crying out as he came, and he rocked Sören as they shook together, their release as much emotional as it was physical.
Anthony had to be at work before Sören did - he would be picking Sören up at National in the evening - and when Sören woke with the alarm, he saw Finn on the bedtable, holding a handwritten note.
My struggle is harsh and I come back
with eyes tired
at times from having seen
the unchanging earth,
but when your laughter enters
it rises to the sky seeking me
and it opens for me all
the doors of life.
-Neruda
Sören cried a little, folded up the note and gave it a kiss before he tucked it into the hollow book where he kept the others.
When Sören was on break, and having a cup of coffee with Colin, his cell phone went off.
Amadeus, Amadeus, Amadeus
Amadeus, Amadeus, Amadeus
Amadeus, Amadeus - oh, oh, oh - Amadeus
Come and rock me Amadeus!
Colin's eyebrows went up as Sören answered. "Elskan," he said.
"Hi, love. How is everything?"
"All right, I guess."
"No kids today?"
"No, mostly old people today, and one twentysomething going on sixty." Sören laughed. "How's the Inn?"
"It's one of those days when I question my sanity for going into this line of work."
"Awwwwwwww, poor elskan. Anything I can do for you later?"
"The usual is nice, of course."
"Mmmmmm."
"Mmmmmm."
Colin made vomit noises.
"Oh, your assistant's brother says hi," Sören said. He held up the phone at Colin.
"I charge if you want me to talk to you like that, mate," Colin said.
Sören howled when he took the phone back. "I can't believe him."
"Ask him how much," Anthony teased.
Sören snorted, giggling. "Anthony Hewlett-Johnson, you're terrible."
"Thank you."
"I'm not gay, by the way," Colin announced.
Sören couldn't resist. "Hi Not Gay..."
"Oh, bloody hell," Colin said, facepalming.
"Sören," Anthony said, "I will be a little late picking you up. Like fifteen to twenty minutes. I hope that won't be too much of a problem?"
"No," Sören said. "I can sit in the lobby or something."
"All right. I apologize. I have to take care of something before I come get you."
"OK. I'll see you when you get here."
"I love you."
"I love you too." The call ended.
Colin made more vomit noises. "You guys are disgusting."
"Takk." Sören grinned.
Then Colin also grinned. "It's nice to see you happy. And Diana says he's the easiest to get along with that he's been the entire time she's worked for him."
"Oh, does she think he's difficult?"
"I don't know if I'd call it that, she's used the words 'type A personality' to describe him."
Sören nodded. "I can see that. He never really leaves lawyer mode."
"I'm afraid to ask what's up with that ringtone for him."
"The wig."
"Oh god." Colin laughed. "Of course, the damned wig." He shook his head. "My brother, Martin, he works for Family Law. I got to see him in the wig once. It was... pretty hilarious."
"So is everyone in your family in law but you?"
"Diana and Martin both are, my other sister Cynthia is an obstetrician. My dad came here from Barbados and he told us horror stories about the manual labor his parents endured and he pushed us hard to go into a profession so we don't end up like that. We're still killing ourselves with round-the-clock work, we're just not doing it on a plantation." Colin rolled his eyes and sipped his coffee. "What about you? You never talk about your family."
"My brother's an astrophysicist."
"Oh..." Then Colin's eyes widened with recognition. "He goes on Neil Degrasse Tyson's show sometimes!"
"Yes, that's him."
"Holy shit. I didn't assume he was your brother just because of the name Sigurðsson, I know that's a... ah, whatchu call it, not a surname -"
"Patronymic."
"I dated an Icelandic girl for five minutes back in college, that's how I learned that," Colin said.
"Oh, really?"
"Mhm." Colin grinned. "You all are freaks."
Sören snickered into his coffee. "My boyfriend seems to think so."
"Oh god, forget I said that." Then Colin doubled over. "Don't tell your man I said this, but my sister thinks you guys are hot. She's into that... what the hell is that called... yaoi or whatever it is."
Sören almost spat his coffee. "Does she read slash, too?"
"I don't know what that is."
"It's like fanfiction, but with gay sex."
"Oh. Sounds like you read plenty of it. Probably write it too."
"I don't know about writing it, but I might have helped with a few stories. Asked the important questions like 'when do they fuck?' and 'when is the orgy?'"
"Jesus, Sören." Colin laughed, rolling his eyes. "You're worse than I am." He shook his head. "You're probably worse than everyone."
"Just about, but Anthony's a pretty good match."
"I guess so." More seriously, Colin said, "I hope he keeps you happy for a long time."
Sören nodded. "So do I."
When Sören's shift ended he waited in the lobby with a magazine, only half-paying attention to what he was reading. He started dozing off in the chair, and then he heard a dramatic clearing of the throat, blinked his eyes open, and saw Anthony standing near the doors. Sören got right up and ran over to him, hugging him hard; Anthony chuckled and hugged Sören back, rocking him.
They got in the car and Anthony had the stereo on. Billie Holiday was playing softly, which Sören found comforting. Sören rested in the warmth of the car and the comforting presence of his lover, and when they got out of the car, Anthony popped the trunk and took out a small shopping bag. Anthony said nothing and kept his expression neutral as he ushered Sören inside.
Once they got in and took off their footwear and outerwear, Sören gestured to the bag. "What's this?"
Anthony handed it to him and walked off to the kitchen to make tea.
Sören reached in the bag and he pulled out a blue striped tiger, roughly the same size as Finn. He squeaked when he pulled the tiger out of the bag, and hugged it, then he came over to Anthony making tea and hugged him.
"I know it's not your bunny," Anthony said, his voice betraying the emotions that were starting to surge again, his eyes a little too bright. "But I had... to do something, and that's why I was late to pick you up, I looked online on my break and placed an order to pick up later. I..."
Sören silenced him with a kiss. Then he growled, "Forget the damn tea for a bit," and hauled Anthony off to the bedroom, to make love to him as rough and savage as a hunting tiger, Anthony responding with the ferocity of a lion.
After they lay there in the afterglow awhile, spent and breathless, Anthony got up to put on pajamas and resume making tea. Sören put on pajamas and came out for tea and to throw something quick and easy together for dinner. He also brought Finn out with him, to meet the tiger, and as dinner cooked and they sat having tea, Sören had Finn and the tiger on the coffee table.
"Hi," Sören said, moving the tiger's head like a ventriloquist's dummy.
Anthony raised an eyebrow.
"I said hello." Sören made the tiger give the lion a tap.
Anthony shook his head at Sören, grinning, and then he moved the lion's head. "Hello."
"You're pretty," Sören said on behalf of the tiger.
"You are too," Anthony made the lion say. "I'm Finn."
"I'm..." Sören thought for a moment and then he couldn't resist trolling. "I'm Tony."
"You're a little shit," Anthony told Sören, who gigglesnorted, and then Anthony made Finn stick out his paw. "It's nice to meet you... Tony."
"I could name him Cornelius if you prefer." Sören snickered. "Or Corn."
"Sören, I am going to take you over my knee."
"Promises, promises." Then Sören resumed playing with Tony the tiger, making him say to Finn, "Will you be my boyfriend?"
"You move fast, don't you?" Anthony made Finn cock his head to one side.
"Is that a yes or a no?"
Anthony made Finn hug and snog Tony, which made Sören laugh, and then they kissed as well.
"Well, that was completely ridiculous," Anthony said, leaning back against the couch.
"It could be worse."
"I'm sure."
"Hi Sure -"
Anthony glared, and Sören elbowed him, laughing. Then he scooped up Finn and Tony from the coffee table and held them together and rocked them. "This was really sweet of you."
"I worried you wouldn't like it. I thought about getting you another bunny but I had a feeling that might be..." Anthony's voice trailed off.
"I love him," Sören said, patting Tony's head.
"Good. I thought a tiger was appropriate because, you know, I have a lion, plus..." Anthony stroked Sören's face. "What I said last night about strength. You're a lot stronger than you know, a lot more powerful than you know, there's a tremendous amount of courage in you, a tremendous amount of fight."
"I feel an 80s song coming on." Sören got up, turned on the stereo, put on his 1970s and 1980s playlist, and found the right song.
"Oh... oh no," Anthony said. "No..."
Rising up, back on the street
Did my time, took my chances
Went the distance, now I'm back on my feet
Just a man and his will to survive
So many times it happens too fast
You trade your passion for glory
Don't lose your grip on the dreams of the past
You must fight just to keep them alive
Sören began to sing along with the chorus, belting it out.
It's the eye of the tiger
It's the thrill of the fight
Rising up to the challenge of our rival
And the last known survivor
Stalks his prey in the night
And he's watching us all with the eye of the tiger
"Dear god, Sören." Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose, but he was shaking, laughing. "Dammit..."
When the song was over, Sören checked on dinner then sat back down next to Anthony and cuddled the lion and tiger some more. And then he started laughing again.
"What?" Anthony asked.
"Well, we've got a lion and a tiger..." Sören smirked. "We should get a nice bear to play with."
"Our flat will be overrun with stuffed toys in short order, won't it?"
"Better that than wigs."
chapter 14 | return to Learning To Fly | return to Other Tolkien Fic | return to index