At the beginning of May, Sören arranged to take the weekend of May nineteenth and twentieth off, starting on the night of Friday the eighteenth, so he could celebrate his six-month anniversary with Anthony. It was hard to believe it had been six months already - time had flown by - but it was also hard to believe it had only been six months, it felt like they had been together much longer than that.
Sören was working more intense shifts to compensate for the weekend off, and while he generally disliked bringing up his personal life at work, it nonetheless came out on the Monday of that workweek, when he was sitting at break with Pamela and Colin.
"You OK, mate?" Colin asked as Sören chugged on the second cup of coffee in ten minutes.
"I can't fucking believe I agreed to pull fourteen-hour days now through Thursday, with only ten hours on Friday," Sören said, "after working seventy hours last week."
"Christ," Colin said, shaking his head. "But we won't be seeing you this weekend then, huh?"
"Nope." Sören pursed his lips. "Got plans."
"Ohhhh. Plans." Pamela grinned and elbowed him. "Been meaning to ask how things have been going for you and that lawyer."
"Good," Sören said, nodding. "It's our six-month anniversary this weekend..."
"Oh my, has it been that long already?" Pamela's mouth opened. "Congratulations!"
"Yeah, congrats," Colin said, punching his arm. "Sounds like you guys are pretty solid."
"I think so." Sören smiled.
"So what kind of special plans do you have, or is that a secret?" Pamela asked.
Sören shifted in his seat. "We're going to Brighton for the weekend."
"Oh, lovely. I haven't been to Brighton in ages. My parents used to take us for a couple weeks holiday every summer and I treasure those memories," Pamela said.
"What are you getting him?" Colin asked.
Sören froze. "Oh, you mean, like... a present?"
"Yeah."
Sören didn't realize that might be a thing expected of him - he would have thought just going away for the weekend and the sacrifice involved to make that happen was good enough. Just like at Christmas and Anthony's birthday, Sören felt at a loss as to what to give him, the guy who had everything and could easily afford just about anything.
That thought bothered him on the way home. And then, as Sören sat with his WaCom tablet after dinner and began working on the finishing touches of the coloring for the piece of him and Anthony naked in the garden, basking in the afterglow of lovemaking, he considered that this right here might be his gift for Anthony. He couldn't display it in the office the way he could the painting of the ravens, but Sören still wanted to get a couple prints of it anyway - a larger one to frame, and perhaps hang in the flat if Anthony was so inclined, like the bedroom, and a portfolio-sized one. Sören now had a binder of prints carefully tucked into laminated sheets, from work he'd done on the WaCom over the last few months. It was a way of having his art conveniently in one place... not that Sören had much confidence about showing other people.
Indeed, Sören even had anxiety about showing Anthony the finished product, and his anxiety continued over the week - when he wasn't too distracted by work or by Anthony himself. He had plenty to keep him occupied.
At last Friday evening came. Sören and Anthony had packed the night before, and the plan was for Anthony to pick Sören up at National and drive directly to Brighton, which was an hour an a half from London if traffic was good. Sören had the framed print for Anthony in his suitcase. But there was one last order of business to attend to; Anthony texted Sören a half-hour before his shift ended.
Did you remember to bring it?
Sören chuckled as he texted back. LOL yes.
"It" was a change of sexy underwear - a lacy black thong - and the buttplug. Sören had reservations about wearing the plug while he was at work because friction from the plug while he was performing surgery could be disastrous. But now that he was done for the day... Sören slipped into the restroom and changed out of his boxer-briefs and into the thong, and after cleaning out he applied a generous amount of lube and pushed in the plug.
He knew Anthony had arrived even before he saw the car pull up, because the vibe turned onto its lowest setting while Sören sat in the lobby waiting. Sören loved the delicious naughty thrill of the vibe going on while he was in a public place, and he loved it even more when Anthony ducked in to collect him, greeting Sören with a big hug and a kiss, and discretely turned the vibe up to the next setting.
Sören was already hard and aching by the time he got in the Audi. Anthony gave him a wicked grin as he leaned in to steal another kiss.
As Anthony drove, every now and again he reached over to adjust the setting on the remote control of the vibe, turning it up or down. The vibe pulsing inside Sören combined with the purr of the engine to make him crazy, whimpering, cock and hole throbbing. Sören badly needed to come - and he especially needed to be fucked, as he'd been working so much this week that he'd only had energy for oral. But even as he squirmed and whined with frustration on the way to Brighton, he wouldn't have it any other way. He loved to be teased like this... loved being under Anthony's control. He loved that look of ownership Anthony gave him as he fiddled with the remote control on the vibe, or glanced over at him to watch him react, make sure he was OK.
Or just to look at him for the sake of looking at him. "You're beautiful, you know," Anthony said.
Sören's face flushed. He grinned, feeling strangely shy and fluttery - even after six months, Anthony still had that effect on him. "Takk."
"I really missed you this week." Anthony reached over to rub Sören's knee, and Sören covered Anthony's hand with his. "Especially that smile. Your laugh."
"I missed you too." As busy as Sören had been, Anthony was never far from his thoughts. "At least we get this entire weekend, and then a more normal week for me on Monday."
"I've been going out of my mind since I got back from chambers. Thinking about you." Anthony's voice lowered, grew husky with emotion. "Wanting to hold you."
That did it. Something in Sören's mind snapped, blinding him to logic and reason, and pure need took over. Sören found himself leaning over, diving down, freeing Anthony's cock from his trousers and briefs, taking it into his mouth, smiling as he felt Anthony fully harden immediately. Anthony groaned and kept one hand on the wheel, the other on Sören's head. "Sweetheart..."
"Mmmmmmf." Sören sucked him hungrily, fast and hard, rubbing his tongue as much as he could with his mouth full. "Mmmmmmm."
"Oh god." Anthony shuddered, and exhaled sharply. "Sören..."
Anthony continued to drive with Sören devouring him, until he couldn't anymore, swerving, and he quickly pulled over. Minutes later he was undone, panting, gasping as he came in Sören's mouth. Sören swallowed as much as he could, lapping up the rest. Then he kissed Anthony, letting him taste himself; Anthony moaned into the kiss, and his hand rested on the hard bulge in Sören's scrubs.
"Now you'll last longer," Sören whispered as the kiss pulled apart. Not that Anthony had a problem with staying power, of course. "I want you to fuck me good and long."
"God, Sören." Anthony laughed softly and kissed Sören back, his hand gently rubbing Sören's hard-on through his scrubs. As their tongues teased between kisses, Anthony turned up the vibe again, and Sören moaned, Anthony capturing the moan with another deep, fierce kiss.
"I better get back on the road," Anthony rasped.
They weren't far, only about fifteen minutes away. Even that seemed too long, as pent-up as Sören was. Sören managed to stop thinking of sex long enough to take in the view of Elaine and Roger's vacation home. It was smaller than the home in Blackheath - one story rather than four, and where the house in Blackheath was like something out of Peter Pan, this was more of a gingerbread house, both with its small size (though bigger than the brightly colored beach huts nearby) and grey cobblestone exterior, salt box roof. "Two bedrooms, open plan kitchen and living area, one bathroom," Anthony said as they pulled in. Looking at the generous, ornate arched glass windows, Sören wondered if Elaine had designed this house too, and as if he could read Sören's mind, Anthony said, "Yes, this is also one of my mum's designs."
"She's brilliant," Sören said.
Anthony nodded.
The open plan living and kitchen area was light and airy, bright white walls, white furniture with blue and beige accents, dark hardwood floors. They brought their suitcases and bags in to the master bedroom, which continued the dark hardwood floors, and had steel grey walls, a light grey love seat, dark hardwood furniture and a king-sized bed with a duvet in an abstract navy-and-grey pattern, evocative of the sea in stormy weather. Sören smiled at the glass-fronted gas fireplace for cooler nights, the grey mantle topped with faceted glass lanterns in silver finish, each lantern holding a cream hurricane candle. Sören loved fireplaces and candles, and wondered about coming here in colder months.
Sören immediately marched to the bathroom to wash his hands, force of habit as a surgeon. The bathroom had light teal walls and a teal-and-white tile floor, and was on the small side, with a glass-enclosed walk-in shower, a toilet, a sink, a mirror, wall shelves that held washcloths, towels, and assorted bath goods. The toilet and sink were done in a white marble finish, and the sink fixtures had a brushed silver finish; the mirror was in a frame made of seashells and the wall shelves were made from long pieces of natural driftwood. The bathroom smelled faintly of lavender.
Sören looked at himself in the mirror in his light blue scrubs and long-sleeved black T-shirt, his hair in its requisite "man bun", and made a face. He took his hair down, shook out his curls, and then he decided just to strip all the way down, leaving on only the thong he'd put on just before he left National.
"Sören, love?" Anthony called from the living and kitchen area, moving into the master bedroom, closer to the bathroom where he could hear the sink running. "Have you eaten? Are you hungry? I can grab us some fish and chips -"
Sören walked out in his thong. Anthony's jaw dropped, and his cheeks flushed.
"It's not food I'm hungry for right now," Sören said, turned down the duvet and the grey sheets underneath, and climbed onto the bed.
Anthony undressed as quickly as he could - Sören smiled at his hard-on - and once he was naked, he joined Sören on the bed. For a moment he just looked at Sören, drinking him in, and then he took Sören's chin in his hand and kissed him, sweet and sensual. His free hand brushed Sören's curls, and slid over Sören's body, lingering on the nipples, gently rubbing up and down all the places he knew Sören was sensitive - stomach, hips, thighs. Sören moaned into the kiss, quivering to Anthony's touch.
Then Anthony leaned over, a wicked look in his eyes as he took the waistband of Sören's thong between his teeth and began pulling down the lacy thong with his teeth. Sören loved it, clutching Anthony's head, petting his hair. When the thong was down to Sören's thighs, hard cock sprung free, Anthony paused to give it a few slow, deliberate teasing licks before he resumed pulling the thong down with his teeth.
Once the thong was all the way off, Anthony removed the plug inside Sören. He took a moment to admire the hole open and ready for him, and then his tongue dipped inside, making Sören gasp and cry out, arching to him. Anthony's tongue felt especially good after all the teasing with the plug, and any other night Sören would be content to let Anthony lick him as long as he could stand it, but now Sören needed more. So much more.
"Fuck me," Sören ground out. "Anthony, please. I need you in me. Now. Please. Now. Fuck me."
Anthony gave a few more licks and then he stopped, with an exaggerated sigh. Then he nibbled on Sören's thigh, making Sören scream with pleasure, and he said, "If you're that much in heat for it -"
He didn't even have to finish the sentence. Sören maneuvered himself, getting on all fours, face down, ass up. Anthony groaned and rubbed Sören's ass, giving it a slap before Sören heard Anthony rummaging around for the lube they'd packed. Once Anthony found it, Sören gasped as the cold liquid poured over his ass crack and dripped into him. He gasped again as Anthony knelt behind him, hard cock grinding in the cleft of Sören's ass, teasing them both.
Then Anthony pushed into him, and once he was all the way inside they breathed together, Sören almost undone right away by the shape and weight of Anthony inside him, that moment of feeling completion, oneness with the man he loved, so intimate...
Anthony began to thrust, hard and fast, just how Sören wanted it, desperate and aching to be fucked hard after the week he'd had. Sören rocked back against him, fucking himself on Anthony's cock, their hips slamming together as they pushed and pulled. Anthony grabbed Sören's hips, his deep moans and growls matched by Sören's broken cries. Sören's fists grabbed the pillows, white-knuckled, trembling as Anthony's cock stroked that magic place inside him just right, Sören aching to come but also never wanting that delicious rhythm to stop, never wanting to stop fucking, completely lost in sensation as well as his lust for being taken like this, the two of them giving in to their animal side...
"Fuck me," Sören cried out. "Oh god, fuck me, Anthony, fuck me, fuck me..."
Anthony reached and grabbed Sören's curls, pulling them. He slapped Sören's ass with the other hand. Sören loved that, rocking back against him even harder, an inhuman keening noise ripping out of him as the pleasure wound tighter, higher, deeper.
"Fuck me." Sören panted, gasped, moaned. "Fuck me. Fuck me, Anthony, fuck me, fuck me..."
"Sören." Anthony gave a deep, hungry growl. "Oh god, Sören."
When Sören was right on that edge, his body threatening to climax any time now, desperately holding back to feel that luscious cock rubbing in him just a little longer, to fuck, to mate just a little longer, Anthony leaned down, his arms holding Sören tight, and he began to kiss Sören's neck, nape, shoulder. One hand slid down to cup Sören's hard, throbbing, dripping cock, stroking it in time with their thrusts. "Sören," Anthony rasped between kisses, nibbles at Sören's neck. "Sören... I love you."
Sören tilted his head and they kissed, and Anthony drove into him even harder, stroked Sören's cock furiously. Sören came hard, crying out into the kiss, and a few seconds later Anthony cried out into the kiss as well, Sören crying out again as he felt Anthony erupting inside him, shaking against him. They gasped for breath, and then they kissed again, Anthony's hands taking Sören's as they sank down together, riding the wave of their bliss.
"I love you, darling," Anthony whispered, nuzzling Sören's curls, raining soft little kisses over Sören's nape and shoulder that sent delicious chills through him, reminding him there was more to come later. "I love you. I love you... I love you so much..."
"Mmmmf," Sören mumbled, already dazed, shattered from such an intense orgasm. "I love you."
Anthony laughed and kissed the top of Sören's head. "You never did answer me as to whether or not you've eaten."
"Mmmmmf."
Sören dozed off, and a little while later Anthony woke him up; Sören smelled something delicious and his nose twitched before his eyes opened.
"It's late enough that I think the fish and chips stalls might be closed, and I didn't think you wanted to go into town to a restaurant, but my mum keeps bread in the freezer and things like soup in the cupboards, and she was here earlier this month and left us some things like cheese for this weekend. So I, ah. Made you grilled cheese and tomato soup."
Sören beamed - Anthony knew grilled cheese was his favorite, too. Anthony put a towel over Sören so he wouldn't get crumbs in the bed and Sören ate the soup and sandwiches, and Anthony rubbed Sören's feet as he ate, smiling at him indulgently.
After Sören ate and Anthony did the dishes, they showered together, getting aroused in the shower again, feverishly kissing and caressing under the spray, hard cocks rubbing together. They kissed all the way to the bed and found their way into a sixty-nine, laying on their sides, sucking each other's cocks, fingering and licking each other's passages, until Sören came in Anthony's mouth and then, seconds later, Anthony came in Sören's mouth, taking each other's hands as they climaxed. When they came down from their orgasm, Anthony spooned Sören, arms tight around him, and Sören smiled as he snuggled into sleep, feeling as right as right could be.
Anthony woke him up the next morning, hard and ready for him. Sören hardened to Anthony's kisses, and he lay back as Anthony straddled his hips and impaled himself. Watching Anthony ride him was delicious, watching Anthony come even moreso, and Sören had a mind-blowing orgasm, grinning like an idiot as Anthony cuddled into his chest. They dozed off again and then Sören was woken up by an urgent "oh shit" and before Sören could panic, Anthony said, "I was going to take you on a little tour of Brighton and we slept half the day."
It was only almost noon, and there was still plenty of day to be had. It was an overcast day, not too hot and not too cool, which was perfect to do a lot of walking.
They started with the quirky shops in the Lanes - of the shops, they spent the most time in an antique shop, where they mutually decided on an Italian-style baroque mirror with a silver frame to bring back to the flat in Kingston when it was time to go back. Sören realized it was the first piece of decor they'd picked out as a couple, and that gave him a good feeling. He neither needed nor wanted to do over the flat to make it more "theirs" than Anthony's, he liked the way it was set up, but nonetheless, little personal touches seemed to cement that they were building a life together. Sören cringed at the price tag, considering putting the mirror back, but Anthony was very casual about it, like the price was nothing to him - once again, the reminder that they were from two different worlds. And yet, Anthony had no judgment for him, only the desire to share, to give Sören the things he couldn't have growing up. Sören put an arm around him and gave him a little kiss as they checked out, not caring who saw and who might disapprove.
After the antique shop, Anthony showed Sören the Royal Pavilion. The seaside pleasure palace of King George IV made Anthony look like a pauper by comparison, with its Regency-era excess. Sören couldn't get over it, jaw gaping as they went from room to room - the Banqueting Room, the Music Room, the King's Apartments, the Saloon, the Reception Room. The bold, vibrant colors, the recurring peacock, dragon and phoenix motifs, the chandeliers, the ornate furnishings and objects d'art were like something out of a fairy tale, fantasy palace, Sören feeling like he'd suddenly stepped into a Disney movie. It was made more surreal by the fact that it was real.
"How much money did this guy have?" Sören asked in a hushed tone of voice.
"Too much," Anthony said. "Even Queen Victoria was scandalized, decades later, and she sold this place to the city of Brighton."
"Good lord. Is this why people hate the royal family? ...Iceland doesn't have a monarchy, you know. We had the Danish royal family till we got our independence in 1944. And the people we vote into office tend to be everyday, normal people. I met our Prime Minister, Jóhanna, once at a coffee shop in Reykjavik, she was very nice." Sören did not understand English political customs, especially the reverence of the monarchy.
Anthony gave a nervous little laugh, glanced around to see if anyone had heard that, and said, "You probably should be careful expressing any opinions about the royal family in public. People can get touchy about that."
"Oh, OK."
At last it was time for the beach. "It's so different from Iceland," Sören said as he walked with Anthony, holding hands, looking for a good spot to spread a blanket. "The beach is all stony here. We've got sand where I come from."
"I've never seen a sandy beach," Anthony said.
"Really." Sören raised an eyebrow. "Did you not visit beaches when you toured Europe?"
Anthony shook his head. "I burn if I'm in the sun too long, so I'm not usually a beachgoer." He gave a sheepish little smile. "But the sea is nice." He snorted as they spread the blanket. "That sounds so trite. 'The sea is nice.'"
"The sea can be nasty, too," Sören said.
"Mhm. That's part of the beauty of it. I think the sea is actually more interesting to look at on a stormy day." Anthony sat down on the blanket.
"So do I."
"But it's lovely when it's peaceful like it is now. Especially on overcast days like this."
"Where golden light cuts through silver clouds." Sören looked at the sky, and the sea's reflection.
"Mmm." Anthony leaned against him.
And Sören found himself recalling a poem by Robert Frost, reciting it out loud.
Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Anthony finished with the next four lines.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
Their eyes met, and held. Anthony took Sören's hand and squeezed. Sören moved closer and they kissed. Salt breeze stirred Sören's curls, hair tickling Anthony's nose, making him laugh into the kiss, making Sören laugh when he opened his eyes and saw what the wind was doing. The kiss deepened, and they clung to each other, as if they'd both discovered some secret they both shared in their hearts, something that made them both tick the same way, different as they both were.
They curled up together on the blanket, watching the sea and the sky, the play of silver and gold, breathing in the salt air. Part of Sören was there, taking in every moment, every second, preserving this for all time in his memory, sharing this space with the man he loved. And part of Sören was drifting off, exhausted from a long day at work, mind and body at rest, just being. He could tell it was the same for Anthony, that for once the gears in his head had stopped turning - he was always at motion internally, like a shark that never slept, but he seemed to also just relax here, and though he worked fewer hours on the whole he had just as much adrenaline surging and crashing in his job as Sören did, and needed the rest as well.
After they had lay on the beach for awhile, Anthony began to absent-mindedly play with Sören's hair. Sören's stomach growled, and Anthony laughed, rubbed Sören's tummy, and said, "Come on, let's get something to eat."
They picked up fish and chips and took it back to the beach house, just in time for it to rain. They dashed inside, careful not to get the bags of food wet. They ate together at the storm window, one of the only windows in the house that wasn't arched, where there was a bench-type space with blankets and pillows made for sitting and looking out the window. Curled up in a blanket together, feeding each other fish and chips as they watched the rainy sea, Sören felt cozy, a strange sense of quiet joy; this was already one of his favorite memories of being with Anthony.
When their food was finished, Anthony told Sören, "I have something for you."
"Is it your cock?" Sören raised an eyebrow.
Anthony facepalmed. "You're insatiable. And incorrigible."
"Takk."
"It's not that, you." Anthony gave him a look. Then, mischief in his eyes, he said, "Not yet, anyway."
He took Sören's hands and led Sören, reluctantly, away from the storm window into the living area. Sören sat down, and Anthony went to the bedroom; Sören heard him going through his suitcase. Sören's heart beat a little faster, but he was more nervous than excited, knowing this was probably his anniversary present, and now he was worried all over again that when he brought out the painting, Anthony wouldn't like it.
Anthony came back with a small black box that was obviously from a jeweler, and handed it to him. Sören took it hesitantly, wondering what it was. Part of him hoped it was an engagement ring, but he knew it was soon for that, and Anthony wasn't getting down on a knee.
Sören opened the box and he saw a pair of stud earrings - Sören had two holes pierced in each ear, and NHS would only let him wear studs on shift. The earrings were white gold, set with intensely blue-violet stones, round cut. "Oh my god."
"Those are tanzanite," Anthony said.
"Jesus Christ." Sören knew Anthony had spent at least a few hundred quid on those, probably more. They were gorgeous.
"I know blue is your favorite color. I thought about sapphire, but these were brighter -"
Sören threw his arms around Anthony and kissed him hard, tearing up. "Anthony. You absolute mad lad."
Anthony laughed. "Did you learn that from Colin?"
Sören nodded.
"He calls you that, doesn't he?"
Sören nodded, laughing too.
Then Sören took the front pair of studs out of his ears, and Anthony helped him put in the new earrings. Anthony accompanied Sören to the bathroom so Sören could look at them. "They're beautiful," Sören said sincerely, admiring the rich indigo.
"I wanted to get you something sparkly and shiny... just like you."
Sören kissed him again, touched, bashful and giddy. Sören would have been tempted to drag Anthony back to bed, but since Anthony gave him his anniversary gift, it was time for Sören to reciprocate. Sören swallowed hard, and Anthony gave him a concerned look.
"You OK?"
Sören nodded. "Jæja. I..." Sören swallowed again. "Feel like a cheap bastard now, with what I got you for our anniversary."
Anthony folded his arms. "Sören, this isn't a competition. I got you those earrings because I wanted to, not because I thought you would or should get me something equally expensive."
"Well, what I got you definitely isn't worth what you spent on me." Sören's face burned, feeling self-conscious, his stomach doing flip-flops.
"Sören, I very likely won't hate whatever it is you got me. You didn't have to get me anything at all, actually -"
"Let me just... show you and..." Sören caught himself before he could finish with get it over with, aware of how that would sound. He didn't want to rain on Anthony's parade of taking pleasure in spoiling him, and Sören tried to not listen to that inner voice of he spent all that money on you and you're not worth it. "Close your eyes."
Anthony sat on the edge of the bed and kept his eyes closed as Sören went in his suitcase. Sören pulled out the framed painting of them naked in the garden - of Anthony still inside Sören, Sören's seed spilled over both of them, looking into each other's eyes, smiling, touching, basking in the euphoria and the golden sunlight post-orgasm. Sören cleared his throat. Anthony opened his eyes, and Sören turned over the frame so he could see.
Anthony's mouth opened and his eyes widened. Sören froze, not knowing what kind of reaction he was having, and when a full minute passed and Anthony didn't say anything, Sören's heart hammered, his hands shaking as the hysteria rose in him. He hates it. Oh god. Oh god. Ohgodohgodohgod -
"No, what you got me definitely wasn't worth what I spent on you," Anthony said, and as another ohgod screamed through Sören's mind, Anthony looked up, met Sören's eyes, and said, "It's worth way more."
Now it was Sören's turn to open his mouth, and he made a strangled noise of relief, also feeling deeply touched - awed - by Anthony's praise. Anthony took the frame out of Sören's hands and sat with it, and Sören saw that he was visibly teared up, smiling through his tears.
"My god, Sören. That's... calling it beautiful seems like an insult." Anthony gave Sören a little smirk, looking like he was trying for levity. "I could be biased with the subject matter, of course, but..." He ran a finger along the frame. "It's like looking at a photograph. All the shading... all the detail... this took you hours and hours, didn't it?"
"It did," Sören said, and then, "You like it?"
"I love it." Anthony put the painting down, grabbed Sören and kissed him. "I love you." He kissed Sören's hand and pressed it to his heart. "And I love what we have. I..." He blinked back tears, getting choked up.
Sören started to cry. When Anthony shed silent tears of his own, Sören wept, and Anthony started kissing Sören's tears, rocking him. "Sören. Your work belongs in a gallery."
"Oh god..." Sören wept harder, not able to believe what he was hearing.
"I mean it. You should think about sharing your art with the world. You have a gift."
"You... mean that?" Sören sniffled. "You're not just saying that to be nice?"
Anthony gave him a filthy look. "Sören..." He pulled back for a moment and folded his arms. "If I didn't like it I would be gracious and polite, because it's something you made, but I also wouldn't be telling you that you should show your art in galleries or something of the like." He stroked Sören's face, his expression softening. "Everything I've seen of your work is magnificent. Your sketchbook... the ravens I hang proudly in my office... and this is... above and beyond all of that. It's not just that you did such a photorealistic, accurate portrait, but..." He looked back at the painting, and then at Sören. "You got it down to the way we look at each other... the love in our eyes. Anyone looking at that could tell it isn't just sex, for us, it's not just physical, but we love each other. There's an emotional connection. You captured that. Hell, you captured that moment, that feeling of paradise found..."
"Staying gold," Sören said softly.
"Staying gold." Their eyes met. "And how that seems... symbolic... of what we have. When the world is dark, and cold, and crazy, we have light, and warmth, and peace with each other." Anthony took Sören's hands and kissed them.
Sören hugged him tight. "I was so worried you wouldn't like it -"
"Sören." Anthony squeezed him and then he gave Sören another stern look. "Why would you think that?" And then his eyes narrowed. "Who made you think that."
Sören swallowed, and looked down. Those barrister instincts were razor-sharp, and they had lanced the wound. "I..."
"Yes." Anthony nodded. "Tell me what it was. Who it was." His voice took on an edge. "It was that bastard Einar, wasn't it."
Sören closed his eyes, nodded, and broke down, sobbing.
"Jesus, Sören." Anthony grabbed him and started rocking him, petting his curls. Sören wept, and Anthony kept petting him. "It's all right, darling. It's all right, love."
"I'm being a wet fucking blanket on our anniversary -"
"Shhhh, no, just let it out."
"I'm such a fucking crybaby."
"He shamed you about that too, didn't he?" Their eyes met again; Anthony looked murderous, which sent a frisson of arousal through Sören.
"Jæja, he did. I mean, he was always at me to 'be a man', that's why he ripped up my bunny..." Sören sobbed, remembering. "And he ripped up my art."
"Of course he did." Anthony sighed. "Fucker," he swore under his breath.
"Katrín did it too, but... Einar did it more. Katrín would tell me I was wasting my time, that I should be doing something useful... but Einar was the one to tell me that my work was shit. That what I drew was stupid. You know, fantasy things... elves, unicorns, dragons, faeries, trolls, enchanted forests, caves, palaces..." Sören closed his eyes, seeing Einar in his mind's eye, tearing up Sören's drawings before beating the hell out of him. "He told me I'd never amount to anything, that my art was worthless, that art itself is worthless, made for 'soft men' who 'never had to work a day in their lives', that I did it because I was worthless -"
"Well, he's wrong. For a lot of reasons. Starting with the idea that there is no inherent value in art. Maybe this is my privilege speaking, but people need beauty in their lives. And people who can't see that, like Einar... obviously are unbalanced. Full of ugliness." Anthony took Sören's hands again. "You got into medicine to save lives, to heal the sick... but your art is a form of healing as well. It helps you express yourself, and it touches something in others who look at it, takes them into a different world for awhile, where they can look at something beautiful, something more than the world with all its problems, be reminded of better things."
Sören wept afresh, as Anthony's words struck a chord in him.
Anthony pulled Sören back into his arms, held him close. "And as worried as you were about sharing this with me, you needed to. And I think part of what you need to heal, from Einar, is to share your work with the public. Yes, you're damned good, and your art deserves to be seen and admired by others. But also? You deserve better than his insults, his lies, his bullshit in your head. You deserve to know other people see your art as worthwhile, think what you do is lovely, the beautiful work of a beautiful heart." Anthony gave him a little kiss. "My mum has connections in the art world, she can help with -"
"I don't know if I'm ready for that yet," Sören said, honestly.
"OK. Fair enough. But... think about it, maybe?" Anthony rubbed Sören's back.
Sören nodded. The idea of showing his art in a gallery seemed even more surreal than having been in a palace earlier that day, or wearing tanzanites in his ears now.
"In the meantime..." Anthony grabbed the painting again. "I want to hang this in our bedroom, when we get back to Kingston."
Sören smiled, feeling that warm glow of pride. "You really do like it?"
Anthony gave him a look. "Sören." He cupped Sören's chin in his hand. "Yes." He kissed Sören then and when they pulled apart, breathing harder, he husked, "Let me show you how much."
With that, he put the painting aside and pushed Sören back on the bed. He quickly pulled off Sören's jeans, took a moment to admire the silky blue thong Sören wore before he peeled that off too, and then he slid down and took Sören's cock into his mouth, showing Sören how he felt with his body. Sören's moans and sighs told Anthony he got the message.
chapter 19 | return to Learning To Fly | return to Other Tolkien Fic | return to index