It happened that Sören had the entire weekend of July twenty-first and twenty-second off... starting with the night of Friday, July twentieth, which was when Jack was throwing his yacht party. Sören had barely made it through Trisha and Vincente's housewarming earlier that month, and was not looking forward to coming home from a long week at National just to go back out and deal with Anthony's friends on a yacht.
But, Anthony had never been on a yacht and was looking forward to it, and Sören didn't want to disappoint him. And the night before, on Thursday, as Sören was getting ready for an overnight shift, Anthony said, "How would you like to go to Brighton this weekend? Leave Saturday morning, come back Sunday night."
Anthony seemed to understand the impending yacht party wasn't Sören's cup of tea, and this was his way of making it better, a treat after the party, a chance for the introverted Sören to decompress. Sören nodded and said, "I'd like that a lot."
So Sören couldn't be too grudging about it, even though he had to borrow a suit and tie from Anthony again. And he certainly liked looking at Anthony, tonight wearing a black suit with a waistcoat, white shirt and black tie. Anthony let Sören wear the tie he wore the most often - the navy Armani tie Sören had gifted him for Christmas, going with a navy pinstripe suit.
Sören added the Rolex, which he only wore on special occasions, explaining to Anthony that he couldn't wear a watch when performing surgery and it got in the way with having to wash his hands so often at work. But even more than that, as Sören put it on, it made him uncomfortable. He knew Anthony had gotten it with the loving, kind intent to give him a luxury he'd never had, and try to help him feel more at ease around his rich friends, but the Rolex just seemed to emphasize the difference in their backgrounds. Most of the time, when it was just Sören and Anthony, he could forget about it and just enjoy Anthony's companionship. Wearing the watch was an in-your-face reminder, and made Sören feel like he'd stepped into a world where he didn't belong.
He tried to ignore that feeling now, as Anthony gave him an admiring look. As much as Sören really hated wearing a suit and tie, he did like the effect it had on Anthony, appreciating the contrast between Sören looking dapper dressed up, and his wild, untamed curls... knowing intimately the ink and piercings underneath the suit.
"You're missing something," Anthony said.
"Oh?"
Anthony got out the buttplug. Sören laughed, and then yanked down his trousers and the silky blue thong underneath. His laughter became a moan as Anthony fingered him a little before pushing the plug inside. Once Sören's underwear and trousers were back up, Anthony pulled Sören into his arms and gave him a deep, hungry kiss... and turned on the vibe to tease him. Sören moaned into the kiss and Anthony groaned, kissing him deeper, harder, hands sliding to possessively cup and rub Sören's ass. He gave Sören's ass a little smack before he turned the vibe off.
Jack hadn't just invited Anthony, Sören, Trisha, Vincente, and Lawrence to the yacht party, but there were at least thirty other people on the yacht when Sören and Anthony boarded. The yacht had a swimming pool, which some of the guests were utilizing, and a large "ballroom" area where Sören and Anthony were directed to, where a DJ was working even though hardly anybody was dancing, most people were standing around schmoozing in small groups, some were raiding a banquet area set up with hors d'oeuvres. Jack was off in a corner with a woman on each arm, one blonde, one brunette, and when he saw Sören and Anthony he disappeared for a moment, heading in the direction of the bar, and then made a beeline for them, a glass of champagne in each hand, which he handed to them.
"Anthony! Sören! Great to see you here," Jack said.
"Thank you for having us." Anthony looked around. "Did you have to invite Cary Paulson."
"Oh, I know he hates you but there's plenty of room on this yacht, you can keep a wide berth of each other." Jack patted Anthony's shoulder. "Please excuse me, I have to get back to the ladies." With that, he sauntered back over to the blonde and brunette he was chatting up, who were dancing with each other suggestively.
"Who's Cary Paulson?" Sören asked, curious.
"Crown Prosecution." Anthony discretely gestured to a man who looked late thirties or early forties, blond greying at the temples and Hollywood handsome, flirting with a blonde woman. "He's lost to me in court and he has a real bug up his arse about it." Anthony sipped at the champagne Jack gave him.
Sören was about to do the same, and then he hesitated. He remembered partying in Reykjavik, accepting a drink handed to him by a stranger that turned out to have been spiked with rohypnol. He knew logically that he was safe with Anthony - that the drink Jack gave him very likely had nothing in it, and if on the tiny chance it did, Anthony wouldn't let other people touch him and wouldn't take advantage of Sören. But Sören froze anyway, and Anthony saw the deer-in-the-headlights look on Sören's face as he held the drink and looked around for a convenient receptacle to dispose of it.
"Here," Anthony said, taking the champagne from Sören. He drank it, and then he put an arm around Sören and led him to the bar. "We can get a fresh one, where you watch the bartender pour it."
Sören kissed his cheek, tears burning his eyes, incredibly grateful for Anthony's understanding and care.
After having a glass of champagne, Sören relaxed a little, even though they were as far as he could tell the only gay couple - apart from the women Jack was flirting with who might have been bisexual lovers or on their way to becoming such. Then, just as Sören was hating this a bit less, Trisha and Vincente came over to make small talk with Anthony, and then Lawrence and his girlfriend Candace came over also to say hello, and Sören shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking down at the floor, feeling awkward and wanting to go home.
Jack and his lady friends finally came over, and Jack proceeded to give Anthony, Sören, Lawrence, Candace, Trisha and Vincente the tour of the yacht. The view from the upper deck was lovely, and when Jack and his ladies, Lawrence, Candace, Trisha and Vincente went back to the ballroom, Anthony and Sören stayed on the upper deck, arm in arm, leaning on each other. After a few minutes alone they shared a kiss, and Anthony turned on the vibe, smiling wickedly as Sören moaned.
They watched the sunset on the water, which put them in an amorous mood, kissing, hands roaming. Sören no longer hated this - at least not right now. He felt touched that Anthony was making this less about his friends and more about them, a place where they could be romantic and sensual together. He lost himself in the moment, the blazing sunset and the fiery passion within him.
Before they could go too far Anthony took Sören's hand and said, "We should attempt to be sociable." Sören grumbled under his breath. Once they got back in the ballroom, Sören had a second glass of champagne and then they hit the dance floor, and Sören finally managed to enjoy himself, any self-consciousness about them being the only gay couple, or Sören feeling out of his element, soothed away by the alcohol and the playfulness of dancing with Anthony, the two of them making dorks of themselves and not caring. Trisha dragged Vincente out onto the dance floor and their dancing was horrible, but they managed to laugh at themselves and Sören managed to smile at them genuinely for once.
Sören tried not to moan as Anthony turned up the vibe inside him.
After a few songs they ended up group dancing with Trisha, Vincente, Lawrence and Candace, and then Candace had dry heaves, a combination of alcohol and moving around with the gentle rocking of the boat. Anthony, Sören and Lawrence helped Candace out to the lower deck for some air. When Candace had calmed down some, Anthony led Sören back up to the upper deck. They found a more secluded spot and Anthony turned the vibe higher as they made out feverishly. Between kisses Anthony looked around - they were alone up here - and finally Anthony rasped in Sören's ear, "I want you." He started to undo his trousers.
"Here? Now?" Sören felt a kinky little thrill - even though they were alone up here, anyone could walk in on them anytime.
"Now," Anthony said, and kissed Sören again. "But only if you want to."
Sören guided Anthony's hand to the hard bulge in his own trousers. Soon their trousers and underwear pooled down and Anthony took the plug out of Sören's ass and bent him over, taking him hard and fast from behind, grabbing Sören's curls as he plowed. Sören loved it, holding onto the rails white-knuckled, rocking back at him, trying to keep his moans down as Anthony's cock hit that sweet spot in him again and again. The forbidden thrill of sex here where they could possibly be caught, and Sören reveling in his shameless wantonness, in heat for his lover, craving him like this, added to the pleasure, as did the desperate little whines Sören heard himself make, answered by Anthony's deeper groans and growls, the urgent slap of their hips. When Anthony reached for Sören's cock, stroking it in time with his savage, punishing thrusts, it didn't take long for Sören to come, and Sören came hard, watching his seed shoot over the rails into the water. Anthony came a few seconds later, trembling against Sören as he gasped for breath; Sören moaned at the feel of Anthony coming inside him.
Sören rose up and Anthony tilted Sören's face to his, kissing him passionately, a promise of more later. In keeping with that promise Anthony shoved the plug back in Sören's cum-filled ass and once Sören was dressed, Anthony turned the plug on again. Sören felt like he was going out of his mind, wanting more as the plug purred at his sensitized prostate, not able to take his eyes off of Anthony who looked so dapper and delicious in his suit, nonetheless wanting Anthony out of the suit as quickly as possible.
They went back to the ballroom and grazed on hors d'oeuvres and then Anthony made the rounds of goodbyes to his friends. Just as they were leaving the yacht, Anthony turned to Sören and whispered in his ear, "I wanted to come to this party so I could fuck you on the boat."
When they got to the Audi, Sören dragged Anthony around to the back seat, shoved him in, and climbed on him. Sören rode his cock right there in the marina parking lot, bouncing madly. Anthony grabbed the tie around Sören's neck like it was a leash, kissing him fiercely, and soon he was kissing and nibbling Sören's neck, nipping hard enough to leave love bites. Sören came even harder this time, making a mess on Anthony's suit, and after Anthony came inside Sören, crying out his name, he laughed, giving Sören little kisses, rocking him.
They didn't stop there. When they got home they spent the next few hours flip-fucking, taking turns inside each other in different positions, working up a sweat, until they were spent.
Snuggling together, dozing off, Sören had to admit he'd had fun despite Anthony's friends, and putting up with them had been a small price to pay for an evening of wild, debauched sex.
Sören is in the body that is not his own again, impossibly tall, with the flood of dark hair. He travels out to see his brother Anthony, a chaste embrace in front of Anthony's wife - who nonetheless knows about them and approves - and Anthony's wife's parents, who do not know they are anything more than brothers.
Today Sören is taken out to the yard of swan boats owned by Anthony's father-in-law. They sail one, and Sören's legs are unsteady at first; he leans on Anthony, which just heightens the sexual tension between them. As the gold light of day mingles with the silver light of evening, they steal a moment, not able to contain themselves any longer, kissing passionately. What is meant to be a few kisses quickly becomes opening robes, pulling down breeches, Anthony taking Sören right there on the deck, when his in-laws could come up and catch them at any time. The danger, and that feeling of being so lost in lust for each other, so wanton, just makes the sex even more delicious, with Sören coming all over the deck and rails, as well as his seed shooting into the sea.
"You made such a mess," Anthony teases. "You should clean it."
Sören laps up the seed spilled over the deck, and kissing Anthony with it is even more debauched and depraved than what they just did, brother to brother. Sören wants more, but Anthony makes him wait, through getting the boat back in its harbor, then the obligatory meal with the wife and the in-laws; Anthony gropes him under the table, sharpening Sören's desire to a razor edge.
Making Sören wait gets him right where Anthony wants him, and when Sören meets him in his chambers later Sören rides him like never before. Then he at last takes Anthony, fucking him good and hard for making him wait so long...
They sleep most of the day in each other's arms, and then Anthony manages to take Sören on the boat again just the two of them, a little jaunt around the harbor. They make love to climax after climax, something about the peace of the water and the play of the light putting them in the mood to love each other. At last, in the silver glow and starlight, Anthony holds Sören close and the depth of their feelings breaks them, crying in each other's arms.
"I wish you and me and our other brother could just be together openly. No hiding," Sören says. "No pretending."
"I know. So do I." Anthony kisses Sören's brow.
Sören pets the silver-gold hair, plays with it, wipes his tears with it. "Even if we cannot live openly as lovers, know that I love you."
"And I love you." Anthony takes Sören's hands. "Until the sea runs dry and all the stars fall, I will love you. Never doubt that." He strokes Sören's face, looks into his eyes, silver like the glowing sea. "And someday, somehow, we will find a way."
Despite being up late last night and being exhausted when the alarm woke them both up, Sören was nonetheless chipper, sated and aglow from the night before, looking forward to the trip to Brighton. He was even more enthusiastic about it when, after their shower, Anthony put the plug inside Sören, which felt delicious buzzing away when he was so sensitive from all the fucking the night before.
It was a gorgeous sunny weekend, the sky a brilliant blue as they drove on the highway. Sören rolled the window down to feel the breeze, and sang along with the music on the car stereo; Anthony had on a selection of classic R&B, mostly from the 1970s and 1980s.
When they got to the beach house, it was late morning, about to be early afternoon. Sören was in the mood to go to the beach, and after having done some research he'd heard there was a naturist beach out here. Anthony was a little shy about it - nudity was no big deal in Iceland, and Sören would never understand why Brits were so hung up about it - but he finally agreed. Sören took out the plug for the trip to the beach.
By the time they got to the naturist beach, Anthony was beetroot. Sören got naked quickly, and Anthony took his clothes off more hesitantly.
"You know, we don't have to do this if you really don't want to," Sören said.
"No, I want to." Anthony met Sören's eyes. "I've just... never done this sort of thing before."
They kissed, and Sören helped Anthony take off the rest of his clothing. When they were both naked they stood there for a moment, feasting their eyes on each other. Then Anthony quickly reached for the sunblock, since they were both fair-skinned and burned easily.
Though they had to behave themselves on the beach, as public sex was frowned upon here, they nonetheless turned the sunblock application into a sensual experience, rubbing each other's bodies slowly, lovingly, breaking out into gooseflesh, nipples and cocks hardening beneath the other's touch.
But then they just cuddled, holding each other on the blanket on the stony shore, basking in the pleasant warmth of the sun, smelling the salt air, looking out at the sparkling sea. To Sören there were few things nicer than being naked - primal, beautiful, innocent - here in this lovely place; Sören felt even more one with nature with his clothes off, and there was something downright healing about the two of them taking turns cradling each other out here, wearing nothing but the sky.
Sören felt so at peace that he dozed off a little, and woke to Anthony petting him. Sören decided he needed to wake up some more, and got up from the blanket to stretch. Then he put on his sandals and walked off the blanket, onto the stones.
"Where are you going?" Anthony asked.
"To take a dip."
"Are you mad?"
"Yes."
Sören resumed walking, and once he was at the shore he kicked off his sandals and waded in. The shock of the cold water at his ankles, then his calves, made him gasp - he could see why Anthony asked if he was mad, even on a day like today the sea wasn't terribly warm. But still he continued to push into the water, going up to the middle of his chest. The water felt invigorating rather than unpleasant, and the view of the waves shining in the sun was even better out here; the sea felt endless, infinite. He felt endless, infinite.
Sören looked back at Anthony on the blanket, and then turned away to watch the waves again. Then a few minutes later he felt arms wrap around him from behind, a kiss on the back of his shoulder. Sören gasped and then he giggled as Anthony's arms tightened around him; he moaned as Anthony's fingers teased his hard nipples.
"Christ, the water's cold." Anthony shivered against him.
"It's good for you."
"Your people think fermented fish is good for you, too."
Sören leered over his shoulder. "You never complained about me eating shark before." He waggled his eyebrows.
Anthony's laughter rang out, echoing over the water. He slapped Sören's ass underneath the waves. "You are a cheeky little thing."
"Takk."
They stole a kiss, and then Sören pulled out of Anthony's embrace, turned around, and faced him, so they could hold each other. They rested on each other's shoulders, rocking gently as the waves rolled. Sören melted into the water, feeling like he was being cleansed of the lingering miasma of the hard workweek, reborn in the cold, crisp water, safe in the arms of the man he loved. It was nice to just be able to be, here without a care in the world.
Anthony felt it too. "We should go on vacation," he said.
"Mmmm, that would be nice."
They picked their heads up and their eyes met. "What do you think about a week holiday here, at the end of next month?"
"Yes." Sören kissed him. "That sounds good."
Anthony kissed him back. "Brilliant."
They resumed leaning on each other, rocking together, where time just seemed to stop. When Anthony started shivering again, they came out of the water and went back to their blanket and the warm sun. Sören wrapped Anthony up in towels, and when he continued to shiver Sören just climbed on him and used his body heat, which got Anthony warm quickly.
"If I didn't know better," Sören said, his fingers tracing lazy circles around a nipple, "you just wanted me to get on top of you like this." He knew that Anthony really had been cold, of course, and wasn't faking it.
"What would make you say that?" Anthony gave him an innocent look, as he took Sören's free hand and guided it down to his cock, which was hard again.
As soon as they got back to the beach house they fell on each other, kissing passionately, fiercely as they stumbled to the bed. Anthony climbed on, laying on his back, looking up at Sören expectantly. Sören got the lube and readied him with slick fingers, and Anthony reached for Sören's cock, guiding it to him. His breath hitched as Sören began to push inside, and when Sören bottomed out in him they breathed together, eyes locked, lost in the wonder of that first moment of connection.
After some slow, teasing thrusts, Sören drove into him, Anthony's legs on his shoulders as he pounded away.
"God, I fucking want you," Sören ground out, savoring the silken heat of Anthony around him, the beauty of Anthony underneath him, the ecstasy on his face, the deep moans as Sören claimed him.
"I want you." Anthony's hands slid over Sören, down and then up. He played with Sören's hard, aching nipples, fingers rubbing and plucking them, and then when he tugged on the rings, that was Sören's cue to pound into him even harder, faster.
A few minutes later Anthony came, calling out "Sören, Sören, oh fuck I love you," as he spilled all over Sören's chest and stomach and his own. Sören gave a fierce cry as he erupted, his orgasm feeling as endless as the sea, contracting and contracting like the waves, his contractions so powerful they almost hurt. Sören's fingers and toes curled involuntarily and he made a deep, strangled groan as the pleasure throbbed and he rolled back and forth in Anthony's arms.
They came hard enough to pass out. Sören woke to the sound of thunder, and the rain pelting the roof. Anthony continued to sleep, which made Sören smile, watching him. A little while later, when Sören began to pet Anthony, not able to help it - he looked so sweet and downright innocent asleep - Anthony woke up, and smiled at Sören shyly, lovingly. Sören rained kisses over his face and Anthony laughed softly, before his mouth met Sören's and then the kisses became less innocent, their tongues swirling, rubbing, tasting. Sören's cock rose and met Anthony's hard cock, grinding together as they kissed.
Anthony rolled Sören onto his back, got the lube, and poured it into Sören. They continued to kiss and rub their cocks together as Anthony's fingers stroked inside him, and at last Anthony took him, his gaze holding Sören's as he slid in deeper and deeper. When Anthony was all the way in, Sören felt strangely vulnerable, like Anthony wasn't just inside his body but was also touching a place in his heart, his soul.
They made love slowly at first, languidly, as the rain fell and thunder crashed outside. It had been sunny when they got in from the beach and they hadn't turned on the lights, and now the bedroom was dim from the stormy weather, but they could still see each other, playing in the shadows. Anthony's eyes were bright, feverish, filled with hunger as he kept his thrusts slow, fingers walking, brushing over Sören's body, kissing him here, licking him there. At last Sören pleaded, "fuck me... fuck me hard..." and with a deep breath Anthony gave in, his passion echoing the storm raging outside, fucking Sören in the furious rhythm of the rain beating down. Sören howled, sobbed, his nails raking Anthony hard enough to draw blood, who responded by biting him. Soon, they were both trembling, gasping, broken cries as loud as the thunder, needing to hold out just a little longer, to keep fucking, keep mating, keep feeling each other. And then they came together, screaming, kissing deeply.
They tangled up together, and the storm died down. Anthony had a small, cryptic, Mona Lisa smile on his face, looking like he was far away. Sören stroked his cheek. "Penny for your thoughts."
"Oh." Anthony laughed softly. "When I took a nap awhile ago, I just... had strange dreams, is all."
Sören raised an eyebrow. He felt a little prickle at the back of his neck, a leaden feeling in his chest. "Strange how?" But he had the feeling he already knew.
"Well..." Anthony exhaled sharply, and his eyes met Sören's. "You know how sometimes we, uh... pretend to be brothers?"
Sören nodded solemnly. A chill went down his spine, his hair standing on end. Here we go.
"I dreamed about us as brothers. Making love on the beach. Except..." Anthony gave a nervous little laugh. "We were us, but we weren't... us. You looked... different. You had very long dark hair, but you were still you. And I was blond..."
Of course you were. Sören felt like an alarm bell was sounding in his head. When he'd had the dreams before, he'd chalked it up to an overactive imagination. But they felt real, more real than his dreams usually did. And now Anthony was having them too. And they were in tune other ways - like how Sören knew something happened, that day in March, before he'd seen the news of the bomb threat at Lincoln's Inn.
"It's not the first time I've dreamed of us like that, actually," Anthony said. "But this time, you came to visit me where I lived by the sea..."
Sören sat up abruptly. Anthony gave him a look of panic. "Oh god. I told you it was strange," Anthony said. "I hope you don't think I'm -"
Sören put a finger to Anthony's lips. He quickly got up from the bed, and went over to his duffel bag. He reached for the WaCom tablet, pulled it out, and sat back on the bed. He turned it on and went into his files.
Anthony watched, waited, and then Sören pulled up a portrait he hadn't shown Anthony yet. It was of the black-haired brother laying on his back in the garden, the silver-gold brother inside him, holding him on a pearl-and-diamond leash. It was both similar to and different from the painting in their bedroom, of the two of the in the Blackheath garden. This one, on the tablet, was rendered in softer colors, with a hazy, dreamlike quality, and the garden had more exotic plants, like something out of a fantasy movie or novel. But it was no less debauched.
"Did we look like this?" Sören showed him the portrait.
Anthony gasped, his pupils blown wide. For a moment he couldn't say anything at all. Then he gave Sören a frightened, pleading look, then looked back at the tablet, then back at Sören, then back at the tablet.
Then he found his voice. "Fuck."
"Yes... that's... definitely what's going on here."
Anthony laughed, facepalmed, and then he quickly sobered. He was shaking slightly, gooseflesh on his arms. "Sören," he whispered. "You..." Their eyes met.
"I have dreams too," Sören said. "I didn't have the same dream as you when we napped this afternoon - I didn't dream at all, that I remember. But... we're dreaming about the same people. The same place." The same time.
"That's..." Anthony shook his head. He took a few slow, deep breaths. "Sören... I'm agnostic."
"Hi Agnostic, I'm - "
Anthony gave him a look and a swat, and then he grinned, laughing before he got serious again. "No. Seriously. I just..." He made a vague hand gesture. "I've never had cause to believe in anything. Never seemed like it made much sense. And yet..." He tapped the tablet. "I can't explain this."
"I can't either."
"I..." Anthony shivered. "Do you think all that past life stuff the Hindus and Buddhists believe... you think there's some truth to that?"
Sören shrugged. "I don't know. That seems to be the most plausible answer to this but it still..." Sören shook his head. "Doesn't feel like all of it." It felt deeper, somehow.
Anthony took the tablet, studied the painting some more, and then he put the tablet down, took Sören's hands and kissed them. "You really should show your work."
Sören's face flushed and he grinned. He still didn't feel ready for that, but he basked in the warm glow of pride anyway.
Then Anthony drew him into a tight hug. "If we were together... once before... I'm glad we found our way back to each other."
"So am I." Sören got choked up, feeling comforted and unnerved all at once. Comforted, because what they had felt so right, like they were fated... like they were even made for each other, somehow. And unnerved, because this raised questions - Sören had been agnostic too, and now he didn't know what to believe, what was out there... and why they were here now, in this life, which implied a death. Sören closed his eyes and saw fire - the same fire that he'd had screaming nightmares about from the age of four onward, dying as he went up in flames...
"My brother." Anthony looked into Sören's eyes adoringly, and they kissed. A sweet, tender kiss turned deep and sensual, hungry, kissing fiercely as they felt the gravity of their love, the depth of their bond, across lifetimes.
Before they could get worked up again, Sören's stomach growled. Anthony laughed and he patted Sören. "The storm's died down enough where we can go into town and get something to eat."
They got fish and chips and brought it back; the rain started up again just as they pulled in and they scrambled inside. "IIIIIIIII'm melllllting," Anthony said in a Wicked Witch voice.
"Hi Melting."
Anthony swatted Sören's ass before he closed the door behind them.
They fed each other fish and chips on the couch and then before Sören could ask if Anthony wanted to watch something, Anthony put on the stereo, and the same playlist he had in the car that morning. "Rock With You" by Michael Jackson came on and Anthony grabbed Sören and began dancing with him around the living room, marching back and forth, dipping, twirling, then at last holding each other cheek to cheek, swaying, grinding up on each other.
"I love you," Anthony said.
"I love you too."
"That Girl" by Stevie Wonder followed, and they sat on the couch, snuggling; Anthony began to rub Sören's head, massaging his scalp, and Sören sighed and leaned into his touch.
Then came a song that Sören didn't recognize, "You Are In My System" by The System.
Day by day
And night by night
I see you in my mind
It happens all the time
You know my daydreams stop
My heart beats on
I can't take it anymore
It's you I live for
Oh baby
You are in my system
I just want you to know that
Oh
You're in my system
Got me burnin' burnin' baby, oh
You are in my system
Oh
You are in my system, system
Don't you, don't you know that baby?
Sören started cackling.
"What?" Anthony raised an eyebrow.
"It sounds like he's singing..." Sören held up an index finger and waited for the next chorus, then Sören began to sing along.
Oh baby
You are in my sista
I just want you to know that
Oh
You're in my sista
Anthony facepalmed, laughing. "Oh god." Then Anthony opened his fingers and peered at Sören between them, before moving his hands away. "Well... you were definitely in at least one of our sisters, if I recall correctly."
"And our other brother."
They looked at each other and then they collapsed into hysterics, doubling over, snorting and gasping. "I'm never going to unhear this now," Anthony said.
Sören sang along again:
You are in my sista
I just want you to know that
Oh
You're in my sista
Got me burnin' I'm on fire baby
You are in my sista
Oh
You are in my sista, sista
Got me burnin' oh baby
chapter 22 | return to Learning To Fly | return to Other Tolkien Fic | return to index