Sören had to work Sunday early morning into afternoon, and in the early evening Anthony picked him up at National and drove him directly to his parents' in Blackheath for dinner. Elaine didn't seem to mind that Sören was in his scrubs or too exhausted to talk much - most of the conversation was focused on Anthony and the bomb threat at Lincoln's Inn, and some of the more hair-raising situations Anthony had been in prior to that, such as being stalked by a former client, which was part of why he had the flat in Kingston now, having previously lived in Blackheath a few streets away from his parents.
It rained, which meant no work in the garden, and it was later than Elaine had anticipated them coming besides. Before Sören and Anthony left, Elaine asked Sören about his schedule next week, and upon finding out that Sören had off the entire weekend of the twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth, she invited them to stay over. Sören looked at Anthony, willing to follow his lead either way, and Anthony said, "Yeah, we could do that."
Sören definitely felt like National was making him earn that weekend off, putting in gruelling fourteen-hour shifts all five of the five weekdays. When Anthony came to pick him up on Friday night he felt like crying with relief.
He did end up crying with relief when Anthony drew him a bubble bath and they cuddled together in the bubbles by candlelight, sipping champagne. He cried again after the bath when Anthony gave him a massage, paying special attention to Sören's scalp and shoulders and feet, which all had built up a horrible amount of tension during the workweek and having it kneaded out felt so good it almost hurt.
After Anthony took care of Sören some more, giving him a sweet, languid blowjob, Anthony fed Sören Chinese food in bed. Sören dozed off after, and woke up feeling selfish, wanting to take care of Anthony, too. Anthony didn't think he'd been selfish at all, though he was still happy to have Sören offer to please him, and they finished Friday night making slow, sensual love, taking turns inside each other, frenzied and hungry at the end, biting and scratching each other, shattering together.
Sören giggled at their handiwork in the shower on Saturday morning, and Anthony chuckled at it too. When they were changed, Anthony and Sören took a look out the panoramic window at the riverfront, since they wouldn't be seeing it all weekend, and then Anthony asked, "Do you want to go for a little walk before we take off?"
"That sounds lovely." The sun was actually out today, and it felt like spring was here, though Sören knew the rains would come back later in the week. For now, though, it was blue skies and sunshine.
Then Anthony smirked. "I have a gift for you."
"Oh... oh boy." Sören braced himself.
Anthony produced a flat, square box. "Do you remember when I said I should get you a collar and leash?" He opened it, and a black leather collar and matching leash sat inside.
Sören squeaked, actually delighted that it wasn't just a threat or a tease. Anthony fit the collar around Sören's neck, clipped the leash through, and walked him outside. They spent the next half-hour walking along the river, Anthony seeming to not care if anyone noticed he was walking Sören on a leash. And Sören loved it. It wasn't just a gorgeous walk on a gorgeous day, with the man he loved, sharing this little magical moment with him, but he felt so close to Anthony like this, a tangible symbol of belonging, Sören's trust and Anthony's honor of that trust.
Sören pouted when Anthony took the leash off after they got back to the flat, to begin putting their overnight bags in the car. And he was a little aroused, too, from being on the leash on the walk. Anthony kissed the tip of Sören's nose and gave him a devious look. "One thing, before we go."
Anthony retrieved the vibrating plug he'd gotten for Sören last month, that they'd played with occasionally since then. After Sören cleaned out, Anthony joined him in the bathroom, lubed Sören up, and pushed the plug into him.
"This is so kinky, I can't even," Sören gasped, laughing when the plug was inside him.
With his index finger through the O-ring in Sören's collar, Anthony tilted Sören's head to his so they could kiss, and his other hand turned on the remote control so the vibe went on at its lowest setting. Sören whimpered into the kiss and Anthony slapped his ass.
As they drove to Blackheath, the vibe purring away inside him at its lowest speed, Sören thought to himself that there was something so wrong about Anthony bringing the leash in his overnight bag, and making him wear the plug to his parents', and yet the wrongness made it incredibly fucking delicious, crossing the line even more with the game they played of roleplaying brothers. Anthony turned off the vibe when they pulled up outside his parents' house, but Sören knew it would be a matter of time before it was on again, and even with it turned off, just feeling the plug inside him, rubbing against his prostate as he walked or moved in any way, was a naughty little thrill.
Elaine and Roger weren't there when they arrived, presumably running errands, but Anthony had a key and let them in. They went right upstairs to put their bags in Anthony's old room. Sören and Anthony noticed there was a vase of fresh lilies and violets in the room, presumably added this morning or late last night. Sören smiled and leaned in to breathe the delicate fragrance, and then his smile became a grin as he watched Anthony take out Finn and Tony and put them on the bed, hugging each other. Then Anthony took Sören's hands and pulled him along to the sitting room on the same floor.
Anthony went into the liquor cabinet and poured Sören a shot of amaretto and himself a shot of Hennessy. They drank and sat together for a few minutes, leaning on each other, just being together, breathing. It was little moments like that which were one of the things Sören loved about their relationship - they both understood the need for quiet space, and to be that resting place for each other.
Leaning on each other turned to cuddling, and at last Sören's gaze kept wandering back to the piano, remembering the way Anthony had played for him at Christmas. Anthony finally opened his eyes and noticed Sören looking at the piano. "Shall I play something for you?"
"Please," Sören said, clapping his hands excitedly like a big kid.
Anthony chuckled and, an arm around Sören's waist, led Sören to sit with him at the piano. He was still so shy about it, cheeks flushed pink, a boyish little smile - he actually bit his lip when he glanced back at Sören, and it made Sören want to drag him over to the couch caveman-style and fuck him senseless. But before Sören could give into that urge, Anthony flexed his hands, did warmup scales, taking some deep breaths to try to get his obvious nervousness under control.
Just before Anthony started playing, he cupped Sören's chin in his hand, tilted Sören's head to face him, and looked into Sören's eyes. Sören never knew green could be so warm. "I missed you a lot this week," Anthony husked, and pulled him into a kiss.
Then he began to play "Moonlight Sonata", which seemed to express all the loneliness and longing he'd felt during Sören's shifts, with having less time than usual. Sören ached, tears coming to his eyes, hearing the melancholy, feeling it, wishing they'd had more time together especially after what the week prior had been like, both of them still quietly reeling from the bomb scare.
When "Moonlight Sonata" was finished, Anthony played an instrumental of "I Guess That's Why They Call It the Blues" by Elton John, which was less melancholy but still seemed to follow up perfectly. And though Anthony didn't sing along, and Sören didn't sing - if only because Sören didn't want to disturb the sort of enchantment happening here - Sören nonetheless had heard the song enough times that he remembered the lyrics and knew how appropriate this was to the theme of being missed, longed for.
Don't wish it away
Don't look at it like it's forever
Between you and me I could honestly say
That things can only get better
And while I'm away
Dust out the demons inside
And it won't be long before you and me run
To the place in our hearts where we hide
And I guess that's why they call it the blues
Time on my hands could be time spent with you
Laughing like children, living like lovers
Rolling like thunder under the covers
And I guess that's why they call it the blues
Just stare into space
Picture my face in your hands
Live for each second without hesitation
And never forget I'm your man
Wait on me girl
Cry in the night if it helps
But more than ever I simply love you
More than I love life itself
And I guess that's why they call it the blues
Time on my hands could be time spent with you
Laughing like children, living like lovers
Rolling like thunder under the covers
And I guess that's why they call it the blues
Sören let out a wistful sigh when the song was over, and just before he and Anthony could kiss, they heard frantic applause in the doorway. Sören and Anthony saw Elaine standing there, clapping, a big grin on her face.
"Bravo," she said.
"Mother." Anthony turned beetroot. "How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough." Elaine winked. "That was magnificent, dear."
"It really was," Sören said, rubbing Anthony's shoulder, and he gave Anthony a peck on the cheek, only slightly disappointed that their kiss had been interrupted, since Anthony's bashfulness was so adorable.
"Come down and have tea," Elaine said.
They did. In the sunny, bright greatroom, Sören finally got a good look at the famed garden from the patio, and after Roger noticed Sören kept looking outside, Roger took the initiative and said, "Come on, son, I'll show you the garden."
Sören's heart skipped a beat. He'd been told Roger actually liked him, but having Roger call him "son" was definitely a sign that he was part of the family now. Anthony sensed the happiness rising in Sören, wrapping his arms around Sören's waist as he followed behind.
Even though it was only just the beginning of March and there wasn't much growing yet, Sören's breath still caught at the promise of it all, the high walls of faded grey brick, the trellises, the rows of soil with their little markers of what would go where, the pots, the shrubberies. It reminded Sören of the children's book The Secret Garden and just like Elaine seemed to be inspired by Victorian and Edwardian aesthetic fo the house, Sören wondered if that inspiration had come into play as well.
They went back inside a few minutes later, after Sören had a chance to take it all in. Roger went on about the different varieties of plants that grew there, and Elaine remarked on how nice it was to have fresh herbs during the summer, to cook with.
"I started taking yoga a couple times a week, a few years ago," Elaine said, "since when you get to be my age you rather need something to help you stay limber. It was actually Mum who got me into taking it, but now her arthritis is much too bad for any of that. Still, though..."
The more Sören heard about Anthony's grandmother the more interesting she sounded, and he was hoping to get a chance to meet her sometime.
"Anyway, one of the things my yoga teacher tells us is that we should try to eat living food as much as we can - fresh from the garden if at all possible. I don't buy into all the talk about prana and whatever it's called, but I do notice a difference in the way I feel when I put fresh things in whatever I'm making. And my yoga teacher is very keen on us having green plants around - the garden started long before I took up yoga, it's been part of the house since it was finished, but I think there is something to be said about having living things all around you." Elaine pursed her lips and looked at Anthony and Sören. "You should get a houseplant."
"With our hours we'd probably kill it, Mum," Anthony said. "As it is, we haven't gotten a cat, even though we're both cat people..."
Sören nodded, pouting. "I'd feel bad, with the cat being alone so much, even if it had a food and water dispenser. It would get lonely."
"Awww, that's rough, I know," Elaine said. She informed Sören, "Anthony grew up with cats. My last one, Alonzo, was a ragdoll. He had to be put down a couple of years ago. I still haven't had the heart to get a new one."
"Alonzo? After one of the Jellicle Cats?"
Elaine's face lit up, pleased Sören recognized the name. "The very same."
Anthony gave a small sigh. "Yeah, Alonzo was a good boy. I'd really like a cat. But." He frowned at Sören, who frowned back.
"A plant, though, is still a bit of life you both can connect with." Elaine seemed rather hung up on this idea. "There are low-maintenance plants that you could probably keep alive. A spider plant, maybe. A cactus..."
"Well, a cactus would be fitting, anyway," Anthony said with a smirk.
Elaine snorted. "A rose with thorns, maybe."
Anthony flushed pink again, but Elaine was smiling. Roger was the one to keep looking back at the garden now, as if being out there for just a few minutes made him hungry for more, and he came to his son's rescue with the teasing. "We should plant these seeds we didn't get around to doing last week," Roger said.
"Yes, I agree." Anthony got up from the couch.
Before Sören could step out to the garden with Anthony and Roger, Elaine reached out, put a hand on his arm and said, "Sören, I'd be honored if those skilled surgeon's hands of yours would assist me with operating on the vegetables for this evening's meal." She smiled, and Sören couldn't help smiling back.
They "scrubbed in", laughing together, and it became clear a couple of minutes into the chopping that Elaine hadn't just taken him in the kitchen to help prep dinner. Elaine kept stealing glances - the very same expression Sören had recognized in her son, when he was observing and particularly when he was looking for his "gotcha"; Sören had a feeling this look came out even more when Anthony was in the courtroom.
Finally Sören raised an eyebrow at her and Elaine said, "Sören, my son loves you."
Sören swallowed hard, feeling that familiar tight ache at his chest, the flutter in his stomach, the glowy rush of warmth. Sören nodded. "Jæja, he's told me as much..."
"No, I don't think you get it." Elaine stopped chopping for a moment. She put down her knife, looked off to the side, and then gave Sören a look that could drill through granite - another look Sören had seen from Anthony countless times now. "My son. Loves. You."
Sören slowed down chopping and waited for Elaine to go on.
"I'm sure Anthony has told you himself he's had a few partners over the years, none of whom lasted long. None of whom he lived with, you're the first. In fact, the two times we've gotten to meet men before you, Anthony didn't even let them see his old room, and he certainly hasn't played piano for them. These are all signs that, this is a big deal. He has let you into his castle, and you have seen a side of him that he does not, as a rule, show people. There are other tells, of course - the way he looks at you, his body language around you... the sound of his voice when he mentions you to me. Before I met you, before things got this serious, I could tell just by the way he sounded when he brought you up, that he's deeply in love with you."
Sören felt his face flush, not able to contain the smile. "I love him too," Sören said, his voice husky with emotion.
"I know. It's in your eyes. Your eyes don't lie." Elaine returned his smile. Then she gave him a deadly serious look, even somewhat predatory. That too was a look he'd seen from Anthony before. "Be careful with my son, Sören Sigurðsson."
Sören raised an eyebrow. He resumed chopping at his usual pace. Elaine resumed chopping as well.
"Did Anthony tell you about when he broke his femur?" Elaine pursed her lips.
Sören blinked slowly, startled. He'd seen the faded, barely-there scar on Anthony's left thigh, but he hadn't asked about it, yet, and Anthony hadn't volunteered anything about it, as if it was a serious subject for him. "No, he didn't. Wow. That's... that's a pretty serious break. His femur..." He looked out the window, where Anthony and Roger were puttering around. "I mean, he walks fine, moves fine." Fucks like a beast.
"Well, yes, the break healed. He was twelve when the accident happened." Elaine also looked out the window, and back at Sören. "I'm not surprised he hasn't told you yet, it's a very traumatic story for him. Humiliating on top of that, adding insult to injury. I'm going to tell you myself, because it's something I think you need to know, to better understand why I'm being like this. To better understand him, as you keep moving forward."
"...All right."
"To back up a bit, Anthony was teased a lot as a child. Bullied."
"I'm sure his name didn't help with that." Sören narrowed his eyes. "Cornelius, really?"
Elaine snorted. "I'll forgive you for that," she said, with a wry smile. "It was my great-grandfather's name. I had Anthony when I was almost thirty and I was in my heyday as an up-and-coming architect, so I didn't think twice about giving him a name no one else would have. I had all those ridiculous new-mother-hormones coursing through me, my baby was the most special and wonderful in the world, I designed beautiful buildings and he was the best thing I ever made, he was the son of an artiste and should have an uncommon name, a unique name. Something old-fashioned, something of a bygone era, when there was more... elegance in the world. It all made perfect sense to my addled brain."
"All right, fair." Sören tried not to laugh.
"That said, even if I hadn't named him Cornelius, he would have had... difficulties." Elaine took a deep breath. "When Anthony was a small child, he was... he was different. Shy, quiet. Sensitive. He taught himself to play the piano by ear."
"Wow." Sören was even more impressed with him now.
Elaine smirked. "He grew up listening to Elton John, I've always loved him, so picture little tiny Anthony plinking out 'I Guess That's Why They Call It The Blues'..."
Sören's laughter rang out. He also loved Anthony even more now, that mental image adorable, priceless.
With a small smile, Elaine went on. "He also used to write stories. He had a very vivid imagination. He wrote about these three brothers... elves, they were."
Sören's heart skipped a beat, remembering the dreams he'd been having. His mouth went dry.
"He was bookish, intellectual... between that and wearing glasses and having a stutter, these were all a recipe for his peers to mock him mercilessly. Poor Roger didn't know what to do with him. Anthony was very close to his uncle Nigel, Roger's brother, who was apparently not so dissimilar when he was younger, and Nigel had gone into the service and 'made a man of himself'. Nigel never forgot where he came from, though, and he was, of the extended family, the most accepting of him." Elaine gave Sören a pointed look. "Nigel was also gay. Closeted, as one had to be until comparatively recently. I still don't know to this day if Anthony ever knew -"
"He probably did. Gay people have that gaydar thing happening, most of the time."
"Perhaps. Anyway, kids are absolute vile, godawful shits at a certain age. Anthony got into trouble a few times, even though from his side of the story the bullies are the ones who started it, and I believe him. I have no doubt that the experience of being punished for defending himself while his aggressors got away with tormenting him, contributed to why he'd gone into his branch of law. His uncle had a lot to do with it, of course, but..."
Sören nodded. He ached, understanding that kind of bullying all too well - he'd been through something similar in Iceland.
Elaine went on, looking sad and very tired. "One day I got a call from Anthony's school saying he'd been sent to hospital. I was an absolute wreck. Turns out that the bullying went a little too far, a gang of arseholes chased him - he was outnumbered, a dozen to one - and they were throwing rocks at him, they got in some punches, they broke his glasses, and Anthony couldn't outrun them... so he went up into a tree to get away from them. He fell out of the tree. He's lucky he only broke his femur, he's lucky he's still alive."
"Jesus." Sören felt a surge of rage, the urge to protect his mate even though that was two decades over. Hot tears came to his eyes.
"Anthony had to take time off school to recover - he had to have surgery, a metal plate in his thigh for awhile - and Roger and I had some serious talks about his future schooling. We decided at that point that we would transfer him to another school for a fresh start, when he was ready to go back, but we weren't going to coddle him, I wasn't going to give into my parental instinct to just take him out of school altogether and get him a private tutor, I didn't think that would do him any favors long-term - people have to be in the world, after all, unless he was going to be a hermit in a remote location that wouldn't do. So, he went back to school. And that was when... the transformation happened. Anthony, while he was home recuperating in the months prior to his return to school, began to work on losing his stutter. You would never know he once had one, listening to him."
"No, I wouldn't." Sören let out a low whistle. "He has a very powerful voice."
"He trained himself to sound like that. It's quite impressive, when I remember what he used to sound like. And he started to behave in noticeably different ways, like he was putting on an act, like he was doing it for the sake of survival. If he wasn't truly feeling confident, deep down, he sure as bloody hell acted like it. He was bolder, much more outgoing than he once was. And as time went on, it looked less like an act and more like he'd changed. But I knew from little tells here and there that the shy, sensitive, bookish boy was still there."
Sören ached for him, wishing he could go back in time and give Anthony a hug, one bullied boy to another.
"Part of his transformation involved, well... trying less hard." Elaine frowned. "He applied himself just enough, but not as much as we knew - I knew - that he could. I was rather annoyed with him for it, even as I understood that he was trying to avoid a repeat of standing out too much and becoming a target, as he very much had been when he was top of his class at his old school. But it was a double-edged sword. He went to Cambridge, which is perfectly respectable, but he could have done better than the school he went to, and he knows this, and he resents it, on some level. He told me once - actually, after the last breakup he had, when he came over and he was a bit into his cups - that he knows he quite possibly could have gone farther than he did if he'd been willing to push himself harder and make himself a target for more resentment of his peers, and he feels like he was too 'weak' to survive that so he took the easy way out, and he hasn't forgiven himself..."
"Jesus Christ." Sören blinked back tears. He wanted to go out to the garden and hug Anthony here and now, but he restrained himself. He was chopping even harder. Angrier.
"And I'm quite sure his orientation had something to do with it. He's likely told you he didn't come out to us until he was in his late twenties, but I knew he was gay by the time he was fourteen." Elaine started chuckling. "He had a crush on that rock singer, what's his name, Gavin Rossdale..."
That explained the Bush poster in Anthony's old bedroom. Sören howled. He leaned against the counter, wheezing.
Elaine put her finger to her lips. "Don't tell him I told you that. But I noticed things. I noticed a lot of things. There were gay men in the architecture circles I traveled, so it was easy enough for me to spot, I just didn't press the issue with him, out of respect for not wanting to embarrass him... or his father, who tries very hard but it's not something he can completely wrap his head around. Growing up in the 1990s, it was still a very difficult time to be openly gay, and it was easy enough to be accused of being gay by one's classmates even if one wasn't gay. So naturally, with that being one more 'weakness' that could be exploited against him, he was going to make himself so..." Elaine searched for the right word. "So much of an alpha that it wouldn't matter, if it came out."
Sören nodded. Then he started laughing again. "Gavin Rossdale..."
Elaine laughed again too. Then she went on, "Even his decision to take some time off school and see Europe, that was calculated. Yes, it was Nigel's wish that he see the world. And Anthony, I'm sure, enjoyed seeing it, no doubt sowed his oats, he was at the right age for it. But I think Anthony also knew if he took time off and came back, he would be the cool slightly-older guy who had more life experience, had been to Europe having adventures..." Elaine shook her head. "And of course, as time has gone on... he has to be a certain way in the courtroom. I had concerns when he expressed interest in law that he was going into the wrong profession and of course he doubled down, because my worry that he was too 'soft' meant that was exactly what he had to push himself to do."
She pushed her cut vegetables off to the side and then she gave Sören that drill-through-granite look again. "So that soft, sensitive boy that my son once was... that he still is, deep down... he shows that side to you, when the world doesn't get to see it anymore. I think at least part of the reason why he's drawn to you is because he can be himself with you. You are his safe place, Sören. He hasn't just let you into his home, but you are his home. When I look at my son, with you, I see the same sweet, sensitive boy who was chased into a tree and fell out and broke his femur, whose spirit was broken that day. You give him back a part of himself that he's lost." Elaine folded her arms and narrowed her eyes. "Don't you dare break his heart."
Sören laughed - Elaine going into protective "mama bear" mode was cute - but then he sobered, and nodded. "His heart is precious to me. I love him very much."
"I know. And I feel as if, you probably don't need to be told, you have no ill intentions with him. I'm telling you just the same. The last breakup he had was fairly devastating to him and he wasn't anywhere near as in love with the man, invested in him, as he is with you. That man probably didn't get very far behind the mask. I get the distinct sense that he doesn't even have the mask on when he's around you, though doubtless you've seen it by now and know what I mean -"
"I do," Sören said, thinking of Anthony's birthday last month. "And you're right. He's a very different person when he's around his so-called 'peers'."
"And he may act like he has a fun time of it, but I know it's exhausting for him, the way it was exhausting for me to schmooze at functions for my own line of work. He needs what you give him. I can tell you're not like most people, Sören. Don't change that about yourself, even if you're under pressure from his 'friends'. He wants you for you. I reiterate, you are his home. His sanctuary. Don't destroy that."
"I will try my best not to," Sören said.
"Good."
Sören's half of the vegetables were done and Sören was feeling choked up. "Will you excuse me for a minute? I have to run to the bathroom."
"Certainly."
Sören allowed himself to cry for sixty seconds, splashing cold water on his face, trying to ground out by taking deep breaths as he ran cold water over his hands, bent over the sink, his heart screaming for what his mate had gone through, knowing firsthand how awful bullying was, knowing what it must have felt like to be that alone. For all his privilege, and all of his power, Anthony was all too human - or Elven, Sören thought with a little smile, thinking of his dreams and Anthony's stories - and he needed to be loved, accepted, needed somewhere to belong. Sören loved him fiercely, savagely, blindly, raw passion and feeling and fire. Even moreso now.
When Sören stepped out of the bathroom, Elaine was waiting. Sören had hoped to get a couple minutes alone walking back to the kitchen, where he could continue to dial back the emotions and not give it away that he'd been crying for Anthony. But Elaine knew, and now she drew Sören into her arms, squeezing him tight. "My dear boy," she said, her voice raw. As Sören felt Elaine against him, he felt her heaving a little, as if she was crying too; her head was on his shoulder and he could feel her face damp. She picked her head up and wiped her eyes. "Nobody cries for my son. But you do."
"I am his, and he is mine," Sören said simply.
"Yes, I suppose you're right." Elaine nodded and pulled out a handkerchief for her tears, and Sören's.
Sören smiled at her and this time he initiated the hug.
"Come," she said, taking Sören's hand. "We've still got work to do, the boys are going to the greatroom for a bit when they're done in the garden. We can try to... pretend we weren't having this discussion."
"I'm glad you told me," Sören said.
"I'm glad you listened. And Sören, thank you."
"For?"
"For being you."
When dinner cooked and Sören was given some leave, he went upstairs to Anthony's old room, still shaken by the conversation he had with Elaine. More than anything else, he wanted to make Anthony happy. It was one thing to know Anthony's job was extremely stressful and another thing to know he'd gotten into that line of work from strong convictions that kept him on the path even when times got rough. It was yet another thing entirely to know behind all of that was a wound - a need to prove himself. And Anthony wasn't just standing up for the memory of the uncle who had been one of the very few people in his life to show him kindness and understanding, he was standing up for the memory of the hurt boy who fell out of the tree, who had gotten into trouble times before that trying to protect himself before things escalated to that point. Sören grieved for him, raged for him, wanted desperately to make it stop hurting, somehow. Not that he thought it would push Anthony into a safer and less stressful line of work - and he loved Anthony for those uncompromising principles, the fight in him. This was about the heart that Anthony had trusted him with, that he cherished even more now.
Sören knew he was good at making Anthony laugh, and indeed, Sören had brought something along for that very reason, which seemed prescient now. He rummaged around in his overnight bag and produced George, the wig. He brought George over to Finn and Tony cuddling, and now they had George laying across their laps like it was a cat, their paws arranged like they were petting the wig.
Anthony came upstairs to wash up before dinner, and Sören pretended to be dozing off a little. He knew Anthony saw it when Anthony let out a "Jesus Christ."
Sören opened his eyes and the look on Anthony's face was priceless - amused and fond and exasperated all at once. "Goddammit, Sören..."
"He was gonna be lonely with us gone all weekend," Sören said. "Isn't that right, George?" He made the wig nod.
Anthony facepalmed, shaking with silent laughter.
"Besides, we may not be able to have a pet, but Finn and Tony have one now. Don't you want our friends to be happy?" Sören made the lion and tiger nod.
Then Anthony quipped, "You mean you don't have a pet." Anthony's lips quirked. "I've got one."
Sören giggled, face burning. He fiddled with the collar. "Jæja, I guess so."
Anthony came closer, leaning over Sören, hooked a finger through the ring on the collar and rasped, "Such a naughty little kitten, taking things that don't belong to you. I think you need some obedience training later."
Sören felt a frisson down his spine, and his hole twitched around the plug inside him. Then Anthony stood up and gestured. "Let's go downstairs."
Sören was half-expecting Anthony to turn on the vibe during dinner, but he supposed Anthony going there right in front of his parents would be pushing it too far. However, the way Anthony kept glancing at him across the table, like Sören was what he wanted to eat, got Sören stirring, already needy for him.
After dinner there was tea, and then Elaine and Roger let Anthony and Sören retreat for the night. They got in pajamas in the bedroom, though before Sören pulled his bottoms up, Anthony held them down just for a moment to look at the plug inside Sören, rub Sören's ass, and give it a little smack. Anthony's lips quirked when he saw Sören was half-hard, and Sören wondered what he had planned.
"My parents are going to be up for a bit," Anthony said, looking at the clock, "so it would be best to..."
Sören nodded; Anthony didn't need to finish that sentence. "You want to play a game?" Then Sören chuckled, knowing how that sounded. "One of your old video games."
But he was also right the first time. As they played Super Mario together, Anthony turned on the vibe, taking perverse amusement in teasing Sören, watching and listening to him react as he gradually turned up the vibe faster, and faster, then back down again, slower and slower. By the time Elaine and Roger called to wish them goodnight, Sören was ready to climb the walls, panting, cock leaking precum enough that it made a wet spot in his pajama bottoms.
"You poor dear," Anthony whispered, leaning in for a kiss.
Anthony made them wait just a little while longer, both to finish the video game and to give his parents enough time to fall asleep. And then he got up, turned on the lava lamps - both of them laughing at the cheesiness of it - and he turned down the bed and wordlessly began undressing. Sören did too, and when Sören was fully nude, hard cock freely standing at attention, Anthony clipped the leash through Sören's collar and his free hand reached for Sören's cock, stroking it slowly. Sören moaned, and moaned again into a deep, passionate kiss.
"I almost feel sorry for teasing you so much," Anthony said. His thumb rubbed the sensitive frenulum of Sören's cock, making Sören gasp and shiver. "Would you like me to take care of this for you, darling?"
Sören nodded with a little whimper.
Anthony got on his knees and took Sören's cock into his mouth, sucking slowly. Sören grabbed Anthony's head, panting, gasping. Then he made breathy moans as Anthony let Sören's cock slipped and bathed it with his tongue, licking and licking and licking. Sören gasped and shuddered when the vibe went off again inside him, and he bit back a cry when Anthony took just the head of Sören's cock in his mouth, kissing it, tongue swirling. Sören shivered when Anthony gave it a few last licks and, with mischief in his eyes, Anthony said, "Key word being 'almost'. I don't feel sorry for you at all, because brats like you deserve a good teasing." With that, Anthony rose to his full height and tugged on the leash, pulling Sören along to the bed. Anthony sat on the edge of the bed and he grabbed Sören and pulled Sören over his knee.
With the plug purring away inside Sören, Anthony proceeded to give him a sound spanking. The leash was wrapped around the hand giving the spanking, and the fingers of Anthony's other hand were inside Sören's mouth to contain his cries. Sören got into it, loving the sweet sting and that feeling of being controlled, that feeling of depravity. He especially loved it as Anthony ground out, "My brother is such a brat. Mum and Dad won't put you in line, but I will. Someone has to be the responsible adult."
Sören loved it so much that he rubbed himself as Anthony spanked him, cock grinding against Anthony's thigh. He whimpered around the fingers in his mouth until Anthony took them out and said, "What do you have to say for yourself, brat?"
"Fuck me," Sören panted.
Anthony shoved his fingers back in Sören's mouth and his other hand slapped Sören's ass even harder. Sören gave a desperate whine, wiggling his ass, grinding his cock faster. He was already so close to coming, cock throbbing, the sweet spot inside him throbbing with each pulse of the vibe. Anthony's hand rubbed Sören's ass between slaps, and when his finger traced around the rim of Sören's opening and he gave a "tsk" and said, "My brother is such a shameless little slut," that set Sören over the edge, trying not to howl around the fingers in his mouth as he climaxed, making a mess all over Anthony's left thigh.
Anthony laughed. He turned off the plug, pulled it out of Sören, groaned as he watched Sören's hole contracting with orgasm, and he gave Sören a moment to recover before he tugged on the leash. "Well," he said, looking into Sören's eyes, "are you going to clean up your mess?"
Sören licked his cum from Anthony's left thigh with slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue, making Anthony moan softly, breathing harder. And when Anthony's thigh was licked clean, Sören found himself tenderly, reverently, raining kisses over the scar on his thigh, now that he knew what it was from.
Their eyes met. Anthony stroked Sören's face and pulled him up. "Sören," Anthony said, "I haven't told you how I got that scar."
Sören exhaled sharply. "Your mum did. Today. While you were..."
Anthony nodded, looking away, and then he looked back at Sören. "So now you know about... all of that."
"I do." Sören leaned in and gave him a soft, sweet, lingering kiss. "And I love you, so much." He took Anthony's chin in his hand. "I wish we could have been friends. I mean, I'm younger, but..."
Anthony took Sören's hand and kissed it.
"I was bullied too," Sören said. "Our experiences weren't exactly the same, but..."
"You still get it."
"I do. I get it, and I accept you - who you were, what you became... what you still are." They nuzzled, and Sören husked, "And we've got each other now. We're looking out for each other." Their eyes met. "Brothers."
Anthony kissed him deeply, fiercely, both men groaning into the kiss. Anthony got out the lube and readied his hard, urgent cock. Sören straddled Anthony's hips and impaled himself, and then he began to ride, lost in the passion of the moment, expressing his full acceptance - and his desire - with every rock of his hips and ass. Anthony held onto Sören, held onto the leash, and thrust into him with abandon, like he was fucking the pain away, exorcising the past, all of the loneliness of his younger years and sitting with loneliness again while Sören was gone so much this past week. They needed, needed to be one flesh, broken places fitting together, feverish, longing consuming them.
"My brother," Sören panted, grabbing onto Anthony for dear life. "My brother, brother, brother, you feel so good inside me..."
"I love you, brother." Their eyes met. "And I need my brother to come with me..."
They took each other's hands and came together, kissing, trying not to cry out, only half-succeeding. It was an intense, powerful, shattering release that brought them both to tears - somehow, playing this game in Anthony's old bed with his parents upstairs made the kink even hotter for both of them, but it was also so intimate tonight, with Sören knowing what he knew now. The orgasm felt like consuming fire, Sören holding onto Anthony tight feeling like they were both burning up, a glorious explosion into the stars.
They rested for awhile, Sören snuggled into Anthony's chest, held in his arms, listening to his heartbeat. They kissed and pet fondly, and soon enough tender, gentle kisses gave way to deeper ones, the fire rising in them again. This time Anthony wanted Sören inside him. Sören readied Anthony with his tongue, paying back some of the teasing, licking inside him slowly. Then he sucked Anthony's cock, slowly, as slick fingers worked in and out of him. When Anthony pulled on the leash with an insistent growl, Sören stopped, laughing, and lubed up his cock.
Sören took him gently, and for at least a few minutes Anthony let him go slowly, the slow sensuality of Sören's thrusts and Anthony's counterthrusts a dance of love, connection, the two of them melting together. They kissed and kissed, holding each other, and time seemed to stop, the two of them lost in each other, in a moment of paradise found, where none of the ghosts of their past or frets of the present could intrude.
And then it was pure hunger and need again, Sören taking him with savage, punishing thrusts and Anthony giving it right back, rocking his hips and fucking himself on Sören's cock, grabbing onto Sören and working Sören's hips himself. Sören tried not to scream, and ended up having to bite Anthony's shoulder. Anthony bit back. And now, the biting back and forth, Anthony scratching Sören's back, Sören raking his chest... that, too, was deliciously kinky under his parents' roof, the two of them unleashing something primal, like they were indeed made to fuck each other and nothing would get in their way.
Anthony came first, biting Sören again when he let go, growling into the bite. Sören came a few seconds later, shuddering gasps as he spent and spent, Anthony's teeth on him making him come even harder than before.
Sören thought for sure they were done after that as they lay there shaking, legs entwined, laughing and crying together, but then they were kissing again and Sören felt himself harden once more. He found himself getting on his hands and knees, face down ass up, spreading to show his well-used, wanton hole, begging, "Please, more..."
Anthony knelt behind him and took Sören just like that, pulling on the leash with one hand, Sören's curls with the other. "You are such a spoilt brat, wanting to get fucked all the time," Anthony ground out as he plowed into him.
"And you want to fuck just as much as I do. Your body doesn't lie." Sören smiled to himself as he felt Anthony's cock throbbing inside him, as if it were responding to those words.
Anthony slapped Sören's ass and grabbed his curls again. "My brother is such a slut."
"So are you." Sören wiggled his ass teasingly. "It's like we're related."
"You had better keep your voice down." Anthony slapped Sören's ass again.
But then the slap of their flesh got louder, and they were both panting, gasping. Anthony tried to slow down, and Sören begged, "No, don't stop, please, more, brother, more, more, I need more, please, more..."
Anthony gave a deep groan and fucked Sören even harder, as Sören whispered, "More, brother, more... more, brother, more, more, don't stop..."
Those words were like Anthony's kryptonite. Sören could feel Anthony trembling against him, and Sören was right on that edge himself. But the lewd, debauched, shameless sex was almost as good as the orgasm would be, and Sören needed it to last just a little longer, to keep feeling that delicious rubbing inside him, to keep surrendering, to keep burning...
"More, more, more, more, oh god, brother, more, I need my brother's cock, need my brother to fuck me and fuck me and fuck me..." Sören was completely out of control and loving every second of it.
"Oh god, Sören." Anthony leaned down and his arms wrapped around Sören, holding him tight. He kissed and licked Sören's neck, nape, shoulders, and when he began to rain kisses over the scars on the top of Sören's back, closest to the shoulderblades, tears burned Sören's eyes, deeply touched. "My spirit of fire. I love when you're like this. When you burn like this, when you burn for me." And then Anthony's teeth were in the sweet spot where neck and shoulder met, like he was a cat mounting another cat in heat.
My little lion, Sören's soul called out, thinking of the dreams where Anthony had the flood of silver-gold hair.
Sören was so far gone that he didn't last. Sören screamed into the pillows as he climaxed, and then Anthony collapsed onto his back a few seconds later, sobbing into Sören's shoulder as he shook, as Sören felt the pulsing inside him, the flood of white-hot seed. Sören groaned into the pillows and Anthony let out a shuddery sigh, and he wrapped his arms around Sören as best as he could, hugging him tight.
"I love you," Anthony said, his voice hoarse, broken. "I love you, Sören. I love you so much..."
"I love you." Sören tilted his face so they could kiss. "I. Love. You. I love you."
For awhile they couldn't move - Sören felt like not only was his entire body made of jelly but his brain was as well, like he'd forgotten how to move his body. He'd come insanely hard, and so had Anthony. And finally they did manage to roll out of position, and tangle up together to sleep.
It has been another long separation, and Anthony looks at Sören like he wants to eat Sören alive the moment he jumps down from the carriage. They try to behave for the sake of the prying eyes around them, but once it appears they are alone in the library they fall on each other, not even bothering to wait until they're in the safety and privacy of the bedchamber.
"I missed you." Fierce, hungry kisses, like fire. "I missed you."
"I missed you." Hands sliding over exposed flesh, skin burning, hands burning. "I need you. Need you so much..."
Sören is taken right there on his hands and knees like an animal, Anthony grabbing the knee-length flood of dark hair, pulling it as he slams into his brother with no mercy, as if every thrust is punishing him for a long absence. Sören loves it. He tries to keep the noise down but frantic cries keep escaping him, until Anthony's other hand is in his mouth, and that little act of control just makes Sören even more desperate, rocking against him harder.
Their thirst is slaked enough to be able to sit through the evening meal without incident. Anthony's wife is cool and distant but polite - it is an arranged marriage, and the aloofness is not resentment of them so much as being reminded of her absence from her own lover, their other brother's wife. Sören feels for her - this latest absence from Anthony has been harder on them than usual, it keeps getting harder every time - and after the meal he surprises her with a hug.
"Thank you for being so understanding," Sören whispers. "I hope you see her again soon."
She gives a small smile. "In these times, I fear no one may see anyone, very soon."
Sören does not want to be reminded of that. He needs peace... that is what he came here for, besides his brother. Anthony takes him out to the walled garden, his sanctuary, and he dismisses all the servants, wanting to be alone with Sören. "I have something for you."
It is a pearl-and-diamond choker, and matching leash. Sören recognizes it as his work, a custom order he took and started some time ago and completed recently, the order placed by a messenger who stated they were acting on behalf of someone who wished to stay anonymous - and with Sören making enemies, that was rather understandable. Sören would have never suspected that the ultimate recipient of the piece was himself, that the order had been placed by his own brother.
It is not the sort of thing Sören would wear every day, all the time - indeed, the more delicate colors and design are much more Anthony's style than Sören's. And that is rather the point. The leash reinforces who Sören belongs to, in the time it is being worn. Sören kneels, and graciously accepts as Anthony puts the choker around his neck, then adds the leash.
He is far less delicate and refined than the piece he is holding. He produces a dagger and cuts the tunic and breeches and robe from Sören's body. He takes Sören there in the garden, their cries like the birds Anthony keeps, soaring to the heavens, and soon their hearts and spirits are as well, as they come and come and come, so intense for the hunger of it, for the fire burning in their blood, burning for each other.
"My spirit of fire," Anthony rasps as he shudders against Sören again. "Father tried to shame you with that name, called you demon, but you are glorious. You are fire from heaven, fire from beyond The One himself." This is blasphemy, and they know it, but Anthony's spent cock inside him is blasphemy too. "I love you. It has always been you, and no matter how far, no matter how long, it is you that I wait for."
The ache in his eyes, in his words, sends Sören into frenzied need again. This time Sören shoves Anthony onto his back and rides him - still on the leash, still his... giving him more of that fire he loves, burning hotter, burning bright.
Laying there in the garden shattered, exhausted, the last golden light of day streams over them, just beginning to mingle with silver. Sören doesn't want to get up just yet, basking in the glow. Right now everything is just light, a light he will remember, and take comfort in his memories of light when days grow dark.
Anthony didn't bother to set the alarm on Sunday morning, and they were woken up by a knock on the bedroom door, Elaine's voice calling out, "Anthony, Sören, are you decent?"
It's like she knows we have sex in here, Sören thought to himself with amusement.
They were shirtless but had the covers drawn up enough that it wasn't completely obvious that they were naked under them. "I guess," Anthony mumbled, still half-asleep.
Elaine opened the door just a crack, poked her head in, and waved to Sören and Anthony, who waved back, Sören with a shit-eating grin on his face. Elaine raised an eyebrow at them, and her lips quirked as she said, "I'm making pancakes if you boys want to get up now."
And when the door had closed again and Anthony and Sören got up, then they realized - Sören had slept on the leash, and though they were largely under the covers when Elaine peeked in, Sören was still obviously on the leash and it had been wrapped around Anthony's hand, the one waving to his mother.
"Oh, god," Anthony said, facepalming as Sören howled.
"Well," Sören said with a shrug, "stranger things have happened."
"No. No they have not." Anthony turned beetroot.
But soon Anthony was exploding with laughter as well - mortified but still able to see the hilarity of the situation - and they barely contained themselves once they were downstairs, fully dressed, the leash back upstairs. Roger was reading the newspaper - answering Sören's curiosity if anyone read "dead tree" media anymore - and he watched them shuffle in to take places at the table. "Sleep well?" Roger asked.
"Yeah, we slept great," Sören said, with a naughty grin at Anthony, who smirked into his orange juice.
And Sören wondered then if he should, at some point, bring up his weird dreams with Anthony. But in the meantime, after breakfast he sat off in a corner of the garden while Anthony and Roger worked together, and began to draw on his WaCom tablet. If I ever tell him, I might as well have something to show him. For the first time he drew from his dreams, intending to make a full-color portrait, the silver-gold brother holding the dark-haired one on a leash of pearls as he was buried deep inside him.
chapter 16 | return to Learning To Fly | return to Other Tolkien Fic | return to index