"Mmmmmmm." Sören smiled and giggled, waking to kisses raining over his face. Anthony rubbed his nose against Sören's before kissing the tip of Sören's nose, and then he tweaked it, making Sören giggle again and at last open his eyes to Anthony smiling at him, stroking Sören's face with love shining in his green eyes.
Anthony being the first thing he saw was always Sören's preferred way to start the day, but there was something even nicer about his beloved in the golden glow of early morning, sun after yesterday's rain... waking up in the bed of Anthony's youth, under his parents' roof. It was strangely comforting to be there - Sören had wondered if he'd ever start feeling awkward around Anthony's parents, being of money, from such a radically different background than Sören's own experience of poverty and privation, but Sören felt at home here, just as much at home as in their flat in Kingston, if not moreso.
And he knew Anthony felt that way too. He was always his most relaxed here, unguarded, almost innocent in the home he grew up in, before he'd become the high-flying barrister.
It was a Sunday morning - the twenty-ninth, the last weekend of April. Yesterday late afternoon Anthony had picked up Sören at National and they had driven in the rain to Anthony's parents' house, where they had dinner and spent the night. Sören also had tonight off and they'd be spending the night here as well, going to work from here and then returning to their own flat on Monday evening. It was sort of a weekend getaway without going anywhere, just having a bit of peace, rest and recovery after a hectic week for them both.
Now Sören's arms were wrapped around Anthony, as they kissed again and again. Sören moaned as Anthony began to kiss and lick his neck, and moaned again as he felt Anthony's hard cock grinding against his thigh. Then Sören moaned into a deep, hungry kiss as Anthony's cock rubbed up against his, quickening to life.
"I want you," Anthony rasped before he started kissing Sören's neck again.
"I hadn't noticed."
Anthony gave a growl of mock annoyance before his thumb brushed one of Sören's nipples, and began to rub in slow, lazy circles as his mouth found the sweet spot where his neck and shoulder met. Sören cried out, nails digging into Anthony's back as his cock jolted.
"And I love you." Anthony propped himself up on one elbow for a moment, continuing to idly tease Sören's nipple. "More than anything in this world."
"I love you." Sören pulled him into another kiss. "And want you."
They kissed again, and after trailing kisses down Sören's throat, Anthony's tongue laved the nipple he'd been playing with, making Sören gasp and arch to him, the pleasure going straight to his cock. Anthony suckled, and when Sören let out a cry, Anthony put his finger to Sören's lips, laughing. It was Anthony's turn to moan when Sören began sucking on his finger.
"We have to keep it down," Anthony whispered, and kissed Sören again.
He went back to Sören's nipples, kissing one then the other, back and forth, his hand covering Sören's mouth to muffle the little cries Sören made, cock throbbing as his nipples hardened exquisitely. Then Anthony's kisses went lower, hands and mouth worshiping Sören's stomach and hips and thighs, until at last he took Sören's cock in his mouth, sucking slowly and sweetly. Sören pet Anthony's hair and gave soft moans and sighs of contentment. Anthony's mouth felt good in and of itself, but this was also an act of love for him - love that Sören could feel, as turned on by his enthusiasm, his passion, as he was by the sensation.
Before Sören could come in his mouth, Anthony came up to kiss him, and then he rolled onto his back, pulling Sören atop him. He opened his legs and gave Sören that pleading look that Sören knew too well. Sören returned the favor of kissing, licking and caressing his way down Anthony's body. Sören licked at Anthony's cock, teasing him, and when Anthony got vocal Sören's fingers walked up to his mouth.
"You're the one who said we had to be quiet," Sören laughed, before taking a slow, deliberate lick at the head of Anthony's cock, tongue brushing over the slit, seeping delicious precum.
"Sören... dammit..."
Sören knew what he wanted but wasn't going to give in just yet. His tongue licked up and down Anthony's cock some more, then he spent a few minutes licking and sucking on the already-tight balls before his tongue pushed inside him, finding the prostate right away and rubbing it, as Anthony struggled to keep his voice down.
Sören ate him hungrily, reveling in the way Anthony trembled, breathing harder and faster, hands clutching at Sören's head, pulling his curls, soft, deep moans escaping him, eyes glazed with desire. He loved making Anthony lose control like this, watching the suave, confident professional turn to putty. Sören slowed down his licking, his own cock twinging as he heard Anthony's frustrated growl. He continued licking slowly, as much as Anthony could stand, until Anthony grabbed his curls and pulled him up, and commanded, "Now, Sören."
But as urgent as Anthony was - an urgency that Sören's own body mirrored, Sören's cock flushed and dripping, throbbing with need - the golden haze of morning light and that feeling of coziness in their sanctuary put them in a more sensual mood. Sören pushed into him gently, and when he was all the way inside they took each other's hands and Sören just rested in him, the two of them just kissing and kissing, savoring that first moment of connection, being joined as one flesh. When the kiss broke Anthony stroked Sören's cheek and gave him a look filled with such longing and vulnerability that it brought tears to Sören's eyes, taking Anthony's hand and kissing it before pressing it to his heart, leaning down to claim another kiss as he began to thrust slowly, slowly.
No matter how many times they'd done this, it never got old, making love together, and there was something about the sweetness of it this morning where Sören burned it into his memories to always cherish. Sören took his time, thrusting slowly in and out of the silken heat of his lover, as they kissed again and again, pet each other, hands sliding, exploring, needing to touch, feel, love each other.
"I love you," Sören whispered.
"I love you." Anthony nuzzled him, kissed him deeper as he wrapped his arms around Sören, squeezed him before his hands caressed down Sören's back.
The kisses got more heated, their tongues playing together between kisses, exciting them enough that Sören began to move just a little harder and faster. When Sören kissed and licked Anthony's neck and collarbone, Anthony's nails raked his back and that urged Sören on yet faster. And when Anthony returned those kisses, nibbling on Sören's neck, Sören gave in and began to drive into him, Anthony rocking his hips back at Sören, matching his rhythm, wanting this as badly as Sören did. Sören slammed into him fiercely, hungrily, nothing mattering but this, the two of them loving each other, wanting each other, needing. They tried to keep the moans down, kissing each other, which seemed to just make it even hotter, that forbidden thrill, and the pleasure of kissing, needing to connect with every part of them.
When Anthony's eyes widened and he made a little whimper into their kiss, Sören knew he was close. He grabbed Anthony's hands and pounded away as hard as he could. Anthony shuddered and let out a gasp, bucking against Sören, his body heaving and quivering as his seed spurted over Sören's stomach and his channel clenched around Sören's cock, sending Sören over the edge into his own climax, claiming Anthony's mouth one last time as he trembled, spending deep inside him.
They lay there, catching their breath; Anthony pulled Sören close and kissed the top of his head, rocking him. "Thank you."
Sören grinned, feeling light as a feather and bright as the sun. "My pleasure."
Anthony laughed and gave him a little kiss. "God, I love you."
They snuggled and stole little kisses, and after awhile the kisses were deeper, more lingering, and at last they were making out, cocks hardened up again, rubbing together. Just as Anthony's hand wrapped around their cocks and started stroking, there was a soft knock at the door.
"Shit," Anthony said under his breath. Sören quickly drew a sheet around them as Anthony called out, "Yes?"
"Breakfast is ready," Elaine said, not opening the door.
"Oh, OK, thank you."
Anthony looked at Sören and they both gave a reluctant sigh, shared a quick little kiss, and Anthony let go of their cocks. They quickly got dressed in the change of clothes they brought with them - they'd showered late last night - and made their way downstairs.
There was fresh fruit, and bacon, eggs and toast. Roger was reading The Times, and Elaine poured coffee. Dinner had been quiet last night, with Elaine giving Sören a chance to decompress, coming straight from his shift. Now there was conversation, with Elaine asking Anthony and Sören about their respective workweeks.
Sören insisted on helping Elaine clear the table and do the dishes, even though it wasn't required of him - he felt at home here but he was also a guest and wanted to be polite. Elaine accompanied him in the kitchen while Roger took Anthony out to the garden, and she loaded the dishwasher as Sören presented her with rinsed dishes. The cast iron pan didn't go in the dishwasher, Sören using a brush to clean that, and that was when Elaine made her move.
"The two of you have been together almost six months," she said.
Sören nodded. "End of May, já."
"Roger and I have a vacation home in Brighton, and we were telling Anthony and now we'll tell you, the two of you are welcome to use it if you want to go on holiday for your anniversary."
"Oh!" That was unexpected, and Sören was touched by it. He knew their six-month anniversary was impending, weeks away, though he hadn't given any thought to what they might do, since he'd been so swamped with work. "Thank you, that's really nice of you."
"Actually, any time the two of you feel like getting away, like for a weekend, and you might not want to come here, consider yourselves welcome to use the cottage." Elaine opened a kitchen drawer and presented a set of keys. "We'll let you boys know well in advance if we have plans to be there, but we don't go there often."
Sören thought at the back of his mind that it seemed somewhat wasteful to have a second house not in use, even as he understood the whole point of a vacation home was that it would only be used on vacations, but he thought about the homeless in London and his own experience of going hungry some nights and wearing castoffs from neighbors growing up. Nonetheless, he smiled graciously as he took one of the keys and added it to his own keyring.
Elaine seemed to sense Sören bristling slightly, and leaned against the counter with her arms folded. "Sören, you never talk about your own family."
"There's... not much to talk about," Sören said.
"Something happened to you in Iceland, didn't it? People don't just have the lifelong dream of coming over here to work for the NHS. People don't just leave Iceland - it's a beautiful safe, clean country."
Sören sighed and looked at his feet. "I... I don't want to talk about it."
"Fair." Elaine reached out to squeeze his shoulder. "Please know that I'm always here if you need a mum for whatever reason. You're part of the family now and I care about you. You're good to my son, and good for my son, and that's because you're a good man. And if your family didn't treat you properly, that's on them. I would have been proud to have you as my own."
Hot tears stung Sören's eyes. He didn't want to cry, and he felt guilty for feeling snarky a moment earlier about the vacation home.
Elaine came over and gave him a hug, letting Sören's head rest on her shoulder for a moment, petting his curls. Sören was unused to having a mother figure or warmth from someone in a parental position, and the tears came, unable to be stopped. Elaine's arms tightened around him and she started to rock him. "I know," she said softly. "I know whatever it was, it was bad. And it's OK now. You've got a family now." Elaine kissed the top of his head. "You've got a mum now."
Sören let out a sob, not able to help it. Elaine continued rocking him as Sören wept on her shoulder.
A few minutes later Anthony walked in, and he paused when he saw Elaine holding Sören, who was crying more quietly now.
"Is everything all right?" Anthony asked.
Elaine nodded. "Yes, dear. I just told Sören about the place in Brighton and let him know he's part of the family."
Anthony came over and hugged both of them, and that got Sören sobbing again. Anthony rubbed his nose in Sören's curls, and kissed his brow. "It's OK, love," Anthony said, looking like he was getting choked up too, feeling for Sören's pain. "It's all right."
Elaine patted Anthony's cheek and then she pulled back. "Let me go check on your father in the garden," she said, and stepped out.
Sören leaned against the sink. Anthony took his hands. "Sören." He kissed Sören's hands. "You OK?"
Sören nodded. "She gave me a key to the vacation home and then she said 'you never talk about your family' and..." Sören gave a bitter laugh. "Vacation home. I thought it was a vacation when I was a kid if my aunt and uncle would just pass out drunk instead of starting shit with us."
"Jesus, Sören."
"I'm sorry." Sören felt immediately self-conscious, not wanting to wreck the peaceful, happy day.
"No, you did nothing wrong. I'm sorry." Anthony pulled him into another hug. "I wish you hadn't gone through all of that. That's terrible. And I know I don't even know the half of it."
Sören leaned on Anthony, who pet his curls, rubbed his nose in them. "I love you so, so much," Anthony husked. "I hope you know that. I hope you can feel that. I hope you can feel safe here, with me, and with my family." He squeezed Sören tight. "Our family."
Before Sören could start blubbering again, touched by his words, Elaine came back into the kitchen. "Roger and I are going to head out. He needs a few things at the garden supply store, and I want to run to the grocer - I was going to put it off till tomorrow, but if he's wanting to go out I might as well. So we'll be gone for a couple of hours." Elaine gave them a pointed look, as if she knew the act of Anthony comforting Sören might involve things better given more privacy.
"OK," Anthony said.
"Do you boys have any requests for dinner?" Elaine cocked her head to one side. "Sören, dear, Icelanders like fish, yes?"
"We do," Sören said, nodding.
"Hmmm, all right. I'll go to the fish market as well, bring back something special for you." She tousled Sören's curls, and he managed to smile for her. "There we go." She pinched his cheek. "You have such a lovely smile." She turned to her son. "Really, Anthony, you have very good taste." Then she snorted. "At least with this one."
"Don't start about Paul again," Anthony said, and Sören realized it was the first time he had spoken one of his ex's names out loud.
"He was grossly dishonest with you, he can rot as far as I'm concerned." Elaine's eyes met Sören's. "This one has a heart of gold. You can see it in his eyes."
"He does." Anthony kissed Sören's brow. "Pure gold." Then he gave Sören a teasing grin. "And a soul of cheese."
"Takk," Sören said, snickering. He loved it when Anthony ribbed him, and Sören could give it right back. "You'd know."
Elaine snorted. "All right. We'll be back."
Anthony continued holding Sören in the kitchen until they heard Elaine's Aston Martin drive off. Then they pulled apart and looked at each other. Sören tried to get himself under control, not wanting to start crying again because Anthony had cried for him.
"Here," Anthony said, taking Sören's hand. "We should sit out in the garden for a bit, that'll help."
"Let me... go freshen up first." Sören knew that the act of splashing water on his face would help ground him, not wanting to fall apart again in the garden.
Sören went back upstairs. Without thinking of it he used the tail of his T-shirt to wipe his face, and immediately wished he hadn't, getting boogers all over it. Feeling gross, Sören pulled off his shirt in Anthony's bedroom and realized he needed a clean shirt. On impulse - not knowing if he'd even find anything - he opened Anthony's closet. He saw old school uniforms that hadn't been discarded yet, or ever, getting the sense Elaine kept them there for sentimental value. Then he found some T-shirts - he couldn't remember seeing Anthony in a T-shirt, ever - and grinned when he found an Oasis T-shirt. He and Anthony were roughly the same size, Anthony only slightly taller, so in a pinch they could wear each other's clothing, and the T-shirt suggested that Anthony was the same size as he'd been in the late 1990s. Sören pulled it on, and went to the bathroom to wash his face.
Sören felt the urge to cry again, looking at himself wearing Anthony's Oasis T-shirt, feeling for the lonely teenage boy Anthony had been, the way he'd learned to mask his sensitivity to get by in the world, knowing what it had cost him. He didn't want to spend the entire day crying. He went back to Anthony's room, and he rummaged in his duffel bag and pulled out George the wig - which Sören had stowed away in case he had opportunity to troll Anthony - and then, also, he grabbed their lube and stuffed it in his pocket.
When Sören came down, Anthony was waiting in the kitchen, and he did a double-take when he saw Sören wearing the Oasis T-shirt. "Really."
"So, did you fancy either of the Gallagher brothers? Or you know, both?" Sören cackled. "Or was it just Gavin Rossdale?"
Anthony facepalmed and shook with silent laughter, turning beetroot.
"My brother Dag was really into pop-punk, like, Green Day, Sublime, The Offspring, stuff like that. Blur had that one song that wasn't even like anything else they did but Dag liked it... and I trolled the shit out of him by screaming 'OASIS IS BETTER!' when the song would come on the radio."
Anthony doubled over.
"And the thing was, I had a crush on the Gallagher brothers," Sören said. "I thought it was, I don't know, kind of sexy that they got into fights and beat each other up and stuff."
"God, Sören."
Anthony was so distracted by Sören wearing his shirt, and telling him about the ancedote from his younger days, that he didn't even notice Sören was bringing George out to the garden.
For awhile they sat, snuggling together, basking in the warm spring sunshine. It was a perfect morning, made more perfect by the garden. Sören admired the roses and clematis; the hawthorn trees had been budding and were now showing their blooms. Soon the wisteria would flower. The herbs were just starting to sprout in their pots. A goldfinch alighted on a branch of one of the hawthorn trees and began to sing. The entire garden felt like it was singing, stirring with life... welcoming Sören home. This was the sort of place that would have felt surreal to Sören growing up - something out of a 19th century novel, something beyond his reach. Now he was here, like his life had become a fairytale. He remembered early on in their relationship, when Anthony said he had wished for Prince Charming as a child; now he had Sören.
"I got that T-shirt at a concert," Anthony said, stroking Sören's curls.
"Oh, you got to see them live?"
"More than once. But this one... my father's brother, Nigel, took me. One of the very last memories I have of him before..." There was a waver in his voice. "Before he took his own life."
"God, I'm sorry."
"So am I." Anthony gave a small, rueful smile. "Was also my first experience with alcohol. I was underage and Nigel let me drink and of course I got very, very drunk, and very, very sick, and very, very hungover. If I'd have known then what I know now, I wouldn't have let him get me that drunk - he self-medicated with alcohol after he came back from the Gulf. But I didn't know. And despite being sick and hungover, and the fact that he really shouldn't have been drinking, it was a good memory." Anthony sighed. "I miss him."
Sören kissed his cheek. "Does it bother you I'm wearing this? My T-shirt got yucky from crying, so..."
"No, I'm not bothered. Just surprised. And nostalgic, a little." Anthony kissed Sören back. "I wish you could have met him."
"So did he know you're..."
Anthony nodded. "He was gay, and in the closet, as one had to be in those times. But he knew I was, and, well, he had a 'friend'." Anthony made air quotes. "Steven, who was always Uncle Steve to me. They broke up just before Nigel took his own life. I found out after the fact..." Anthony took a deep breath. "Uncle Steve was HIV positive, and it progressed into full-blown AIDS. He didn't want Nigel to see him die. So it was the perfect storm of war trauma, and being left..." Anthony closed his eyes.
"I'm so sorry."
Anthony opened his eyes and wiped them with the heel of his hand. "He would have liked you. They... both... would."
"Were they buried? Cremated?"
"Yeah, Nigel was buried here in London and Steve requested to have a plot next to his. Mum saw to it, even though it was Dad's brother, she loved Nigel."
"Maybe one of these days we could drive out and... and put flowers on their graves." And Sören felt a pang then, because of course he hadn't done that for his parents or sister since he left Iceland; there was a chance he'd never go back.
Anthony nodded. He blinked back tears. "Thank you."
Sören hugged him tight.
They resumed cuddling. Anthony managed to calm down, and they rested together in the peace of the garden. It was nice to just be, safe in this walled sanctuary, warm in the sunlight. After the week they'd both had, with Anthony's court cases and Sören's surgeries, they needed this. And they knew how much they both needed this, in tune with each other, from such different worlds and yet fitting together like they were made for each other.
Sören let his mind just drift, weightless, and Anthony's voice cut into his thoughts again. "It looks good on you," he said.
"Hm?"
"The T-shirt." Anthony kissed the top of Sören's head. "You should keep it."
Sören knew it was more than that; Anthony was trusting him to preserve the memory, somehow. Trusting him with a piece of his soul. Sören felt himself choking up again. He was tired of crying so much. Grasping for levity, Sören glanced over at George - Anthony either still hadn't noticed Sören brought the wig out to the garden, or hadn't said anything about it - and he said, "You know what else looks good on me?"
Anthony raised an eyebrow.
Sören reached out, grabbed George, and put it on his head.
Anthony spluttered and doubled over, laughing, shaking. "Goddammit, Sören..."
Sören stretched out in the grass and propped himself up on one elbow. He waggled his eyebrows at Anthony. "Argue with me like one of your French girls..."
"Oh my god." Anthony was crying again, this time from laughing so hard. "Sören. Sören." Then he narrowed his eyes. "For one thing, you have that on backwards."
Sören hadn't even realized, but he did indeed - the tails were supposed to go in back. He attempted to adjust the wig but ended up skewing it sideways.
"That's still on wrong," Anthony said.
"It's a style now. It's like... hip-hop fashion, but for barristers." Sören threw a gang sign. "Sup, my learned homey."
Anthony buried his face in his hands, let out a howl, and gave Sören a little kick. "Sören."
Sören took off the wig, sat it next to him in the grass, and gave it a little pat.
"I can't believe you brought that. I mean... I know you've brought it out here before but..." Anthony shook his head.
"I can't believe you'd leave George all by himself all weekend." Sören gave Anthony a mock stern look. "Especially when he got extra attention from you this week at court. He'd be lonely. And then he would cry. Isn't that right, George?" Sören made the wig nod. "He's already getting sad just thinking about it. MEOW. MEOW."
Anthony facepalmed again, laughing. "Not the meowing again."
"MOOOOOOOOOOOO? MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO..."
Anthony doubled over again. When he calmed down, he grabbed Sören and kissed him deeply, fiercely. After they pulled apart, breathing raggedly - Anthony's face was flushed, and he had that predatory look in his eye that let Sören know he was thinking of sex - Sören asked, "What was that for?"
"I needed that." Anthony smiled fondly, stroking Sören's cheek. "You make me laugh and it's..." He sighed. "You are my sunshine, Sören. You are my light."
They kissed again, and now Sören was aching for it too, responding to Anthony's need, and his body reminded him they had been interrupted before they could go again. Sören was touched by Anthony's words - Anthony always knew just what to say, and how to say it. He was too touched to respond with words from the heart of his own. So he went deeper, to his libido, to that id they had discovered they shared. "I'm kind of obligated, being your brother and all."
Sören was the one to initiate the kiss this time and he smiled as Anthony moaned into the kiss. "That's right," Sören husked, reaching down to palm the hard bulge he knew was waiting for him. "Even your mum says she's my mum now... which makes me your brother." Sören kissed Anthony again, relishing the way Anthony trembled against him, guided Sören's hand rubbing the hard-on in his jeans.
"Sören..." Anthony swallowed. "I..." He looked around.
"Yes, here." Sören kissed him. "Right here." Sören trailed kisses along his jaw. "Mum and Dad are out running errands... we're all alone..." Sören fumbled for the button and zipper of Anthony's jeans. "Just you and me, here, in the garden. I want to make love to my beautiful brother here in this beautiful place."
Sören began kissing Anthony's neck. Anthony moaned, "oh god," and now he was undoing Sören's jeans as well. They kissed hungrily, and then Sören peeled off the T-shirt and pulled Anthony into another deep kiss. After the kiss Sören took off Anthony's cashmere jumper, and they got out of their jeans and underwear as fast as they could. Once they were naked, Sören lay on his back in the grass and Anthony climbed atop him. "Our little secret," Sören whispered before he kissed Anthony again.
Sören reached for the little bottle of lube he'd brought down in his jeans. Anthony laughed at it before Sören grabbed him and kissed him again. They both moaned into the kiss, hard cocks grinding together. Still kissing, Anthony poured the lube over their cocks and took them in his hand like he had before they'd been interrupted, stroking them slowly.
"Oh, Sören." Anthony nipped Sören's lower lip. "Fuck, I want you."
"Take me." Sören stroked his face, pet his hair. "I'm yours."
They kissed again, and Sören spread his legs. Anthony straddled Sören's thighs and guided the tip of his cock to Sören's opening. Their eyes met and locked as Anthony began to push inside, inch by inch, both of them moaning when Anthony was buried to the hilt.
Anthony kissed Sören hard. "I love you, brother."
"I love you, brother."
Sören wrapped his arms around him and Anthony began to thrust, echoing the same slow, sensuous rhythm of Sören inside him earlier this morning. But something about being here in nature, and the vulnerability they'd both shared, brought out the hunger sooner rather than later, and Anthony pounded into Sören, Sören's legs on his shoulders, with Sören giving it right back, rocking back at him, letting his cries ring out into the blue sky, not caring if the neighbors heard. Anthony's deep groans and growls followed, each of them undoing Sören more and more, and watching the animal in him come out to play, the fierce, almost angry look on his face as he took what was his... Sören loved it, clawing at him, completely lost in lust and sensation and hot sexual need.
When they got close, Anthony leaned down to kiss Sören hard. Then he began kissing and licking Sören's neck, knowing what that did to him. "Does my brother like that?" Anthony rasped.
"Oh, god." Sören's cock and hole twinged, threatening to send him off right then. "Yes. God, yes..."
"I want to hear you say it." Their eyes locked again, and Anthony nibbled Sören's neck.
"I love the way my brother fucks me," Sören breathed.
Anthony moaned, and shuddered.
Sören liked that too, his balls tightening, cock throbbing, ever closer as he spoke those deliciously forbidden, kinky words. "I love my brother's cock inside me. Love my brother fucking me right here out in the open like this, just taking my arse the way he wants to, reaming me with his big, hard cock..."
"Oh, fuck." Anthony nibbled Sören again.
Sören grabbed Anthony's face and kissed him. "So close."
"Mmm, does my brother want to come for me?" Anthony's left hand slid down to grasp Sören's cock.
"God, yes, please... I want to come for my brother..." Sören kissed him again, and then he kissed Anthony's neck. "And I want to feel my brother come inside me..." He bit Anthony's neck.
Anthony bit him back, and drove into Sören hard and wild, making Sören cry out as their mouths met again. They stayed on that edge for a moment that felt like an eternity, frenzied, needy, desperate to come, desperate to keep going, so good, and then Anthony ground out, "Come, brother."
That was it. Sören made an inhuman noise as he lost control, shooting over Anthony's stomach and chest. Anthony bit Sören's shoulder and growled, shuddering as he spent into him. Their eyes met and they kissed again, clinging to each other, rocking, laughing and crying. The goldfinch was calling again and they were right in a sunbeam, everything shimmering golden. Sören melted at the love in Anthony's eyes, as Anthony stroked his face, his curls, bathed in golden light. He burned the image into his mind's eye, to stay gold as the years wore on and they went silver...
...I want to grow old with this man. Sören felt a frisson down his spine. He realized that earlier, when he was talking to Elaine in the kitchen, he hadn't just been thrown by Elaine telling him they were welcome to use the vacation home in Brighton, but some part of him had expected Elaine to follow up the observation that it had almost been six months, with asking about marriage.
It was probably too soon to start thinking like that, since it hadn't quite been six months yet. And Sören didn't want to bring it up himself, in case Anthony wasn't into the idea at all, not wanting to scare him away. But here it was - Sören knew he wanted to spend his life with Anthony Hewlett-Johnson. They weren't just lovers, but they were each other's best friend. They got each other, different as they were, and they were careful with each other's wounded places.
You are my light, Anthony had told him. And now he was shining in the sunbeam, as if they'd enacted some sort of ancient fertility rite of approaching May Day in the garden and were basking in the magic. Sören reached up to touch him, pet him, and thought to himself, You are my light, too. Sören could barely remember what it was like before Anthony, to come home from work to eat and sleep, a cold, sterile existence where one day bled into another. There was none of that anymore.
They lay there, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to be naked together in the spring garden, in the sunshine. Sören felt himself dozing off, and woke abruptly when he felt something on his nose - a butterfly. Anthony laughed, delighted at the butterfly on Sören's nose, and the butterfly flew away. "Awww," Anthony said, and then he kissed the tip of Sören's nose.
They managed to get up and start putting on their clothes just as they heard Elaine's Aston Martin in the driveway. Sören stuffed the lube back in his jeans pocket and carried George inside, and Sören and Anthony tried to act casual in the kitchen, drinking lemonade as Elaine and Roger walked in.
They went upstairs - Anthony wanted a nap. Sören snuggled against him for a bit, then, restless, took out his WaCom tablet. He found himself sketching them in the garden as they had been a short while ago, Anthony inside Sören, Sören's seed over both of them... touching, petting... the loving look that Anthony gave him as they lay there, and the love Sören felt in return, coming out in his smile, his eyes. Sören knew he was going to be coloring this in with the painting tools on the WaCom, turning it into a full digital painting, even if he was the only one who ever saw it. It would take awhile, but Sören needed to preserve the memory.
Remember the light.
Sören was only done with the sketch when Anthony stirred awake; he'd get to the colors later. Sören kissed Anthony's face like Anthony had to Sören that morning, and Anthony smiled, stretched like a cat, and headbutted Sören like a cat, purring, making them both laugh.
"You want to play Sonic?" Sören asked.
Anthony nodded.
It still felt a bit surreal, a neurosurgeon and a barrister playing Sonic the Hedgehog together like two overgrown manchildren, but then that was one of the reasons why it worked between them. Anthony turned on his ancient lava lamps for ambiance, which made them both laugh, and as they played, Anthony had on some of his old CDs to further the 90s nostalgia.
And Sören found himself singing along with one of the songs.
Maybe I don't really wanna know
How your garden grows
'Cause I just wanna fly
Lately did you ever feel the pain
In the morning rain
As it soaks you to the bone
Maybe I just wanna fly
Want to live I don't wanna die
Maybe I just wanna breathe
Maybe I just don't believe
Maybe you're the same as me
We see things they'll never see
You and I are gonna live forever
chapter 18 | return to Learning To Fly | return to Other Tolkien Fic | return to index