It was Saturday, April fourteenth, and for the first time in weeks Sören had a Saturday off. Anthony let him sleep in, knowing what an exhausting week Sören had, and Sören finally dragged himself out of bed in the late morning. He'd slept long and hard enough that he felt a little gross, so after relieving his bladder he brushed his teeth and jumped in the shower.
That helped, though being naked in the shower made him ache for sexual release, wishing Anthony was there in the shower with him. Feeling horny, when Sören was done with his shower he put a towel around his waist - the towel tented from his erection - and sauntered down the hall to the living room.
Anthony was sitting at his desk with a pile of paperwork and his laptop, still in his pajamas, wearing the wire-rimmed glasses that did not help calm Sören's libido any. The scowl of intense concentration as Anthony looked at paperwork and then typed on his laptop also didn't help to calm Sören's libido - Sören always thought he looked devastatingly sexy like that.
Sören let out a little whistle.
"Good morning," Anthony said, not looking up, continuing to type.
Sören put a hand on his hip. He knew whatever Anthony was working on was important - he was dealing with a particularly stressful case right now - but he still wanted more attention than that. "Good morning to you."
Anthony, sensing the edge in Sören's voice, stopped typing and finally looked at him. His jaw dropped a little and he exhaled sharply. "My god, Sören."
"You want to take a break? All work and no play..."
Anthony gave a nervous chuckle. "I would, but I've got to take care of this. A little later?"
"A little later." Sören was disappointed, but he got it. He walked back down to the bedroom and got changed into a fresh pair of pajamas, since they probably weren't going anywhere today.
Sören's erection went away on its own, but Sören was still aching to be intimate with the man he loved. Sören went back out, made coffee, and sat on the couch with his WaCom tablet, sketching Anthony, every now and again stealing glances at him. Anthony was absorbed in what he was doing, looking lost in his own world - Sören could practically see the gears spinning in his head.
Sören wasn't sure how long Anthony meant by "a little later", but when an hour passed, Sören got up to stretch his legs and came over to Anthony, rubbing his shoulder. Anthony smiled and leaned into Sören's touch, purring like a cat, which made Sören smile. He ruffled Anthony's hair - only he and Anthony's mother could get away with that - and then Anthony took Sören's hand and kissed it. Just that little touch was enough to get Sören hot and bothered again.
"Now?" Sören asked.
Anthony chuckled softly. "Soon, love. I won't be able to really relax until this is done..."
"Soon" was heartening, but then it became clear "soon" was even more vague and nebulous than "a little later", when fifteen to twenty minutes later Anthony was typing furiously. Sören stopped sketching and gave him a look, and Anthony was completely oblivious, typing away.
It became apparent Sören was going to have to resort to drastic measures to get Anthony's attention when he was like this. Sören got up, went down the hall to the bedroom closet, and produced George the wig. When he came back, he walked towards the desk - Anthony was still just typing, looking over at his paperwork, typing - and just before Sören arrived at the desk, he got on his knees, crouching near to the floor. Anthony still continued typing. Sören's hand shot up, with George on his hand like a puppet, making George leap onto Anthony's desk like a cat. "Prrrp?"
"Oh my god, Sören." Anthony laughed. "Oh god..."
George "walked" over. "Meow?"
Sören rose up, still on his knees, and raised an eyebrow.
"I'm sorry," Anthony said. "I think I underestimated how much time this is going to take."
"Anthony, have you been working on that all day?"
Anthony nodded solemnly.
"Take a break." Sören gave him a stern look.
"I told you, I won't be able to relax until this is finished. I'm sorry."
Sören gave a sigh, and Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose, also sighing.
Sören went back to his WaCom, with the wig on the coffee table. Another hour passed, and Sören decided to take matters into his own hands. He thought for a moment of what kind of mischief would get Anthony's notice...
...the Roomba turned on and began making its rounds of the flat. Even though Anthony had a housekeeper come in at least once or twice a month to give the flat a thorough cleaning, Anthony and Sören still did what they could to keep the place from becoming a complete disaster, which included running the Roomba robot vacuum cleaner through the flat every day in the afternoon, when Sören and Anthony were usually at work (or Sören was home but sleeping like a log between shifts). Just before the Roomba could go past him, Sören put George on top of the Roomba. The Roomba then headed in the direction of the desk, with George riding on top of the Roomba.
"Meow?" Sören called out. And then a longer, more plaintive "Meeeowwwww..."
Anthony looked at Sören, then he noticed George riding the Roomba and he stopped what he was doing, holding himself as he turned beetroot and teared up, shaking with silent laughter.
"MEOW? MEOW. MEOWWWWW..."
"Sören." Anthony attempted to give Sören a serious look, but his eyes were laughing. He wiped a single tear. "Sören, dammit..."
"MEOW."
Anthony folded his arms, still shaking with laughter. "My wig does not meow. It is not a cat."
Sören stopped meowing, and then he couldn't resist. "MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO..."
Anthony facepalmed and his laughter was no longer silent.
"MOOOOOOOOOOOOO? MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO..."
"Goddammit, Sören."
When they calmed down, Sören waggled his eyebrows at Anthony. "Now?"
Anthony raised an eyebrow. He quietly got up, and gave the gesture for Sören to follow.
Sören fell on him as soon as they got in the bedroom and after a few deep, hungry kisses Anthony rasped, "I'm still working."
"Oh, goddammit..."
"I know." Anthony frowned. "Just like you work a lot of crazy hours, sometimes I have homework on the weekend when a case is particularly involved. I'm sorry."
"Not as sorry as I am."
"Mmm." Anthony gave him a pointed look. "Not as sorry as you will be for distracting me, you naughty thing. I had a train of thought and you completely broke it and now I have to try to get it back, which adds even more time to this job."
"'Not as sorry as you will be'?" Sören's lips quirked and his cock stirred. "Does that mean it'll be worth the wait?"
Anthony's eyes were predatory, but his facial expression was neutral. "Undress."
Sören did as he was told, and once he was completely nude - and fully erect in anticipation, wanting him - Anthony said, "Get on the bed, lay on your stomach."
Once again, Sören did as he was told. He watched as Anthony opened the closet and produced a cashmere scarf. Sören's cock jolted as Anthony got on the bed behind him, grabbed Sören's arms, and pinned his wrists behind his back, binding them with the scarf. Sören moaned, rubbing against the mattress. Anthony slapped his ass and Sören moaned again, cock throbbing.
Sören watched as Anthony produced the lube... and then the buttplug that Sören sometimes wore under his clothes in public, and that they'd played with once in awhile in bed, when Anthony wanted to tease him. The remote-controlled buttplug. After getting him slick, Anthony shoved the plug in him and turned the vibe on to its lowest setting.
"Now then," Anthony said, taking the remote control, "I'll be finishing my work. In the meantime, you're not allowed to come yet." He slapped Sören's ass again. "You can beg for it, and if you beg prettily enough I might have mercy on you."
With that, Anthony left the bedroom, remote control in hand, and Sören was left tied up on the bed, vibe pulsing away in his ass, teasing his prostate.
This was kinky even for them, and as much as Sören ached for release and wished Anthony didn't have work to take care of, there was something delicious about this nonetheless - something perfect in its imperfect circumstances and improvised spontaneity. The vibe got Sören more and more worked up, as did that feeling of being completely under Anthony's control - bound, helpless - with Anthony teasing him, making him beg like the wanton, needy creature of lust that he was, rather than resorting to antics to get his attention. Wondering what Anthony had in store for him when he was finally ready just made Sören even hotter, his mind playing too many scenarios of how Anthony would take charge of him.
"Oh god, please," Sören moaned. "Please, Anthony, please..."
The vibe teased him and teased him, threatening to send him over the edge. Sören whimpered and howled, writhing against the restraints. "Oh god." He shuddered, wanting to be taken and fucked more than he'd wanted anything in his life. "Please. Please. Please..." He let out a little cry. "Please, Anthony, please... please... please..."
After he'd been laying there for awhile, the vibe turned up to its next highest setting. Sören gasped, trembling as the pulsing on that sweet spot inside him got more and more exquisite. "Please. Please. Please, Anthony, please... please fuck me... please let me come... please, please, take me, use me, fuck me... please..."
The speed began to change, going up then down, fast then slow. Sören was a sobbing wreck, going out of his mind with sensation and need. Bound as he was, there was something that nonetheless felt freeing about this, given completely over to want, when he'd been so closed off sexually after what happened in Iceland. He felt alive again. He felt that fire in him again, and he had a feeling Anthony knew how much he needed this, needed that help with being able to let go, the healing power of losing control, surrendering after the tight fist of hypervigilance.
"Please. Please. Please. Please... Anthony... please, fuck me, please..."
Sören was starting to be unable to make words, just inhuman whines and cries as he held back his orgasm with every ounce of strength. The noises seemed to clue Anthony in to how perilously on the edge Sören was, and he turned the vibe up even higher, relentless in his teasing. Sören made a little scream of frustrated need and, gasping for breath, he tried to find his words, knowing by the way his balls were tightening that he wasn't going to be able to hold back much longer. "Please. Anthony. Please. Please, brother... please, brother, please. My brother. Please. Please. Please, I need you..."
Then Sören moaned again, and the vibe slowed down, and after it purred away inside him at the slowest speed for a few moments, it turned off. Sören heard Anthony get up from the desk, and heard him coming down the hall.
Silently, Anthony undressed, and got on the bed with Sören. He pulled the plug out of Sören, which almost made Sören come, and Sören shivered, almost coming again, when Anthony pushed a finger inside him.
"God. Please." Sören gave him a pleading look.
Without saying a word, Anthony climbed over Sören - for a moment Sören thought Anthony was going to take him from behind and Sören began to pant, "yes, yes, yes," encouraging him, wanting it. But Anthony started to kiss and lick down Sören's spine, teasing him even more; Sören shuddered and whimpered.
When Anthony took a lick around the rim of Sören's opening, Sören almost came again. His fists clenched and he sobbed; he cried out as Anthony's tongue speared him.
Anthony began to lick inside him slowly, sensually, lovingly. Anthony's tongue felt even more luscious than the vibe and Sören felt himself dangling on that edge, more and more undone with every stroke of that tongue on the sweet spot inside him. Sören heard himself make deep, guttural noises and high-pitched keening noises, voice rising and falling as Anthony took him to new heights of pleasure-torment.
"I could do this to you for hours," Anthony husked before his tongue teased around the rim of Sören's channel again, in slow, deliberate circles.
"Fuck. Fuck, god, Anthony, please, fuck me." Sören felt his thighs and stomach quivering, his cock and balls aching to come. "Fuckkkk..."
Anthony laughed softly and kept licking around the hole again, before relenting and pushing his tongue back inside. That made it even worse, with Sören screaming in frustration, trying to rock his hips back and fuck himself on Anthony's tongue. That earned him a hard swat on the ass, and then another one.
"Please," Sören begged. "Please. Please. Please..."
Anthony let him beg some more, as his tongue worked its wicked magic inside him. Between his cries, Sören could hear Anthony starting to moan into Sören, breathing harder, tongue rubbing just a little harder and faster.
And then Anthony said, "You can come now, sweetheart." And with that, his tongue rubbed hard and fast inside Sören, and the tension built up and up and up until Sören exploded, a primal roar bellowing out of him as he had a full-body orgasm, toes and fingers involuntarily curling.
Sören came and came, shaking, gasping for breath. "Thank you," he whispered over and over again as euphoria flooded him. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you..."
Anthony untied Sören's wrists and Sören gingerly move his arms and flexed his wrists, sore from having been tied up so long. Sören rolled onto his side and Anthony lay at Sören's side and began to rub Sören's arms and wrists, which helped. Sören looked down and saw Anthony was rock hard, dripping precum. The flushed, slick cock looked delicious - Sören knew from experience it was delicious - and Sören found himself licking his lips at it. Before he could dive down to take it into his mouth, Anthony stopped him, grabbing Sören by the curls and kissing him roughly. Even though Anthony's tongue had just been up his ass, Sören was freshly clean from the shower and it didn't taste bad at all. Sören moaned as Anthony rolled him onto his back, and Sören's spent cock sprang back to life.
Sören was already open and slick from the vibe and all the tonguing, but Anthony got the lube anyway, pouring it directly into Sören with a determined look on his face that was almost angry. Then he knelt between Sören's legs, grabbed Sören's legs and wrapped them around his waist, and took Sören hard.
In case Anthony's work ethic had left Sören with any doubt as to his interest, those doubts were shattered as Anthony drove into him, letting Sören feel his own pent-up need, how much he wanted. Sören grabbed up onto the pillows, white-knuckled, writhing as he matched Anthony's rhythm, rocking back at him, needing all that Anthony had to give. "Please," Sören begged again. "Please, please, please..."
"That's it." Their eyes met. "Beg for me, brother."
A shiver went down Sören's spine, his cock and hole both twinging at that one little word that held so much power over both of them. "Oh god. Please... please, fuck me, I need my brother's cock..."
Anthony groaned and slammed into Sören even harder.
Sören let out a cry and his hips worked faster. "Please, please, please, brother, please..."
Anthony grabbed onto Sören's hips, and Sören reached up, needing to feel him. "Oh god," Sören moaned. "Oh god, please. Oh god, brother, please, please..."
"Fuck, I want you," Anthony growled, fucking harder.
At last Anthony's hand was on Sören's cock, index finger crooked possessively through the ring in the head. Sören was right on that edge again, not able to make words, and he watched Anthony trembling, saw the heat in his eyes, reveled in those deep, animal, male noises as his lover got closer.
"Please," Sören pleaded. "Please let me come..."
Anthony gave a growl that almost set Sören off, and then he ground out, "Come for me."
Sören lost control, shooting all over him, swearing in Icelandic as his body heaved with endless throbbing pleasure. A few seconds later Anthony was done, crying out Sören's name as he spent into him.
With the storm of passion passed, there was just calm, the two of them holding each other, lost in the afterglow. Sören dozed off a little and was roused back awake by Anthony raining kisses on his face, stroking his cheek, petting his curls.
"I'm sorry," Anthony said.
"For what?" Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip. "I came my brains out."
Anthony laughed and he kissed the tip of Sören's nose, then he gave a shy, sheepish little smile. "Spending so much of the day working. I would have much rather spent all day in bed with you."
"Well, it worked out." Sören gave him a reassuring pat. "I mean, I can't exactly fault you for having a lot of work to take care of, with my own hours being what they are."
"No, but it still doesn't seem fair." Anthony sighed. "I wish we could stop time every so often and just be."
"We can't," Sören said. "So we make do with what we have. And..." Sören kissed him. "That was a lot of fun, actually."
"Oh good. I worried that maybe I left you tied up for too long -"
"Well actually, I meant your face with George riding the Roomba." At the scandalized look Anthony gave him, Sören shook with laughter, tearing up, and patted Anthony again and said, "Jæja, being tied up was fun too."
Anthony shook his head. "You're bloody impossible."
"I should hope so."
They kissed, and one kiss became another. Soon their cocks were hard again, rubbing together as they kissed more deeply, hands roaming over each other.
"I think I want you inside me now," Anthony said, kissing Sören's neck.
"I can definitely go for that," Sören said, and rolled Anthony onto his back.
chapter 17 | return to Learning To Fly | return to Other Tolkien Fic | return to index