"We're here, love." Anthony kissed Sören's cheek and tousled his curls.
Sören blinked his eyes open - he'd half-dozed off in the car, being he'd worked until eleven PM last night. Anthony had set the alarm for eight instead of his usual five AM, but had been go-go-go since then, with the two stopping at the supermarket for provisions before hitting the road to Brighton. It was August nineteenth and they'd be here until the twenty-fourth, coming back to London that evening, and then after a weekend at Anthony's parents' house in Blackheath, Sören would have an early morning shift on the twenty-seventh. It still didn't feel like long enough. But it was an entire week, which was more time away than Sören had seen since he'd started with the NHS in 2010, and the most time off he'd had even before that.
Now it was just after eleven AM, a bright sunny Sunday morning. And since Sören had only been half-asleep in the car, and was still tired, as soon as the groceries were put away the first order of business was catching up on more sleep. Sören stripped down to his boxer-briefs and slipped into the cool silk sheets; a few minutes later Anthony joined him, chuckling. Sören rolled to face him and Anthony moved closer and they snuggled, legs braiding together. Anthony pet Sören's curls and stroked his face for a few minutes, with Sören opening his eyes to smile at him, and reached out to touch Anthony's face in turn. Anthony kissed Sören's brow and pulled him close. Curled up into Anthony's chest, listening to his heartbeat and the sound of the waves outside, Sören fell asleep.
Sören woke a few hours later to Anthony rubbing his head and his back, raining kisses over his face. When Sören opened his eyes, Anthony took his face in his hands and kissed him, and Sören melted into the kiss, cock rising to attention. Then Sören chuckled as he felt Anthony's own hard erection through his briefs. A few hungry kisses later, they settled into a sweet, languid sixty-nine, and after they came together they cuddled some more, until Sören had to get up to go to the bathroom. When he came back Anthony was putting his clothes back on, and Sören followed suit, wearing khaki cargo shorts and a black, red, green and yellow tie-dye T-shirt, a contrast to Anthony's denim shorts and short-sleeved light blue button-down shirt.
They didn't stay clothed for long, opting to go to the naturist beach. It was a warm enough day that Sören convinced Anthony to take a dip in the ocean with him. Holding each other naked in the ocean put them in an amorous mood and when they got back they made love for the next few hours, taking turns inside each other in different positions - Anthony taking Sören from behind, then Anthony's legs on Sören's shoulders as Sören fucked him hard, before Sören rode his cock, then Anthony rode Sören. Then they finished in another sixty-nine, this time tongue-fucking each other, lapping up their seed inside the other. Sören fell asleep again after that last shattering orgasm, and was woken up to Anthony getting dressed. They decided to go out to dinner, walking to a cafe, and then they went out for ice cream; as they held hands, eating ice cream on the way back to the beach house, the sun set, and Sören felt quiet joy, a sense of deep contentment. That sense of peace stayed with him as he curled up with Anthony to go back to sleep, and for the first time in years he actually felt refreshed when he woke up in the morning.
It was good that Sören had gotten some rest, not just in and of itself, but Anthony wanted to do the Undercliff Walk, which he hadn't done since he was a teenager on holiday in Brighton with his parents. Sören was enchanted by the white chalk cliffs, and the long stretch of the seawall with the ocean right there; he liked the way the cliff hugged on one side and the sea rolled beyond the wall on the other side - large rock formations being close to the sea was something he was familiar with, having grown up on the fjord of Akureyri, but this was also very different. He kept looking out at the morning sun sparkling on the water, feeling that sense of wonder at how the sea and sky seemed to go on forever, and that was intensified by the white rock that had been there for so long, enduring generations - something timeless about this place, a liminal feeling that gave him chills as they walked.
The liminal feeling was such that he had a strange sense of déjà vu, like he and Anthony had done this before, even though they hadn't actually been here when they'd visited Brighton previously; for the briefest instant Sören saw an apparition of he and Anthony walking in the opposite direction, towards them, holding hands like they were now, and Sören's belly was swollen as if with child.
The vision disappeared as quickly as it had come on and Sören gasped, shivered.
"Are you OK?" Anthony squeezed Sören's hand.
Sören nodded.
It was low tide, and they went down to the beach on one of the concrete staircases; Sören and Anthony took off their footwear and socks, leaving them on the step, and went into the water a little to look at the rock pools. Anthony wrapped his arms around Sören's waist, gently rocking him as they explored, and once again Sören felt deep peace, like he had come home.
"I love you." Sören kissed him.
"I love you." Anthony kissed him back.
When they went back to the beach house, Sören drew on his WaCom tablet and Anthony read. They took a nap some hours later, and then for dinner Sören made homemade fish and chips, which they took out to the beach and ate, watching the sunset together.
They made love well into the late hours, and slept in Tuesday morning. After a breakfast that might as well have been an early lunch, and coffee, they decided to do the Undercliff Walk again. This time they were there for high tide - Sören was fascinated by the waves lapping against the seawall, and let out a little squeak every time a wave crashed over, splashing them. After Sören had squeaked several times, Anthony laughed, delighted by his reaction. "You're so cute," he said, letting go of Sören's hand and putting an arm around his waist. Sören felt his face flush and he crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip. Anthony gave a little growl, crushed Sören against him, and kissed him deeply.
Then there was a thwack. Sören broke the kiss, looking around, alarmed. Anthony chuckled and pointed; a piece of chalk had broken off the cliff and landed on the deck not far from where they were standing.
"Here." Anthony picked it up and handed it to Sören. "My mum always said to make a wish when these fall."
Sören smiled, took the chalk pebble, and rubbed it with his thumb. The first thought that came to his mind was I wish you would marry me.
Sören's heart began to race, his skin breaking out in gooseflesh. He'd felt for some time that Anthony Hewlett-Johnson was the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, but now here was the deeper truth of that. Sören wasn't a religious man, but vows meant something to him. Knowing he wanted to bind their lives together that way...
Sören swallowed hard and kept that thought to himself. For now. He tucked the pebble in his pocket, wanting to keep a souvenir of that moment when he knew, beyond all doubt.
They made fierce, passionate love when they got back to the beach house, Sören riding him to climax over and over again. They tangled up for a nap and went to a cafe for dinner; they came back and Sören drew some more on the WaCom and Anthony read. Before they were ready for sleep, they took a walk together along the beach, enjoying the quiet, peaceful night.
On Wednesday morning Sören was in unusually good spirits - it was amazing what a few days of rest and relaxation could do. He had managed to sneak George the wig into his suitcase without Anthony knowing when they were packing on Saturday, and now, feeling playful, while Anthony was in the bathroom Sören took out George and put him on the kitchen counter. It took Anthony a few minutes to notice, but while he was in the kitchen having iced coffee, he did finally notice, spluttering.
"Sören." Anthony gave him a stern look. "Sören."
Sören gave him an innocent face, batting his lashes. "George works hard, making sure you behave when you're at court."
Anthony put a hand on his hip and raised an eyebrow.
"So George deserved to go on holiday too." Sören went over to the counter and patted George, then picked him up and rocked him. "That's a good boy." Sören made George wag his tail and then Sören let out a "MEOW? MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO..."
"God, Sören."
Sören wanted to go to the Royal Palace again to gawk at the over-the-top decor, and they spent longer there than they had their first visit so Sören could really take it all in. "This is like a Disney movie on steroids," Sören said in a hushed tone of voice. "Hell, I feel royal just by being here. It's like... osmosis."
"I'm pretty sure that's not how osmosis works."
"I'm a doctor, I'm telling you this is scientific fact now."
Anthony laughed hard enough that it echoed and they got looks from tourists and a curator. Anthony blushed, and turned a deeper pink when Sören said, "We're Disney Princesses now." Anthony tried to not laugh again, but couldn't help it.
"I need a tiara," Sören said as they made their way into the Music Room. "Now that I'm a princess." He did a twirl.
"OK, but I'm not wearing a damn tiara."
"No, you don't need to." Sören pulled George out of his satchel and put it on Anthony's head, even though Anthony wasn't technically supposed to be wearing the wig outside of court. The curator came by again and shot them a filthy look. Sören quickly put the wig back in his satchel and he and Anthony tried to pretend to be serious for the rest of the visit to the Royal Palace, but kept stealing amused glances at each other and finally when they were out of the palace they leaned on each other in hysterics.
They went to the amusement park after the Royal Palace, going on rides like a couple of big kids - the rollercoaster, the river ride, cup and saucers. When Sören was sure he wasn't going to be ill after the rides, he got cotton candy, which made Anthony laugh, harder when fluff stuck to Sören's cheeks and beard. Anthony cleaned it off Sören's face with his tongue and they shared a kiss, which got a man muttering "Faggots," under his breath as they passed by. Sören gave him the finger and kissed Anthony harder, not caring.
After another wild night of lovemaking Sören was deliciously sore when he woke up on Thursday. They went back to the Undercliff Walk - Sören had George in his satchel again and halfway through, Sören took out George and put him on a leash he'd made from a bit of ribbon. Sören walked George like he was a dog and Anthony had to stop, laughing too hard.
When they went to the rock pools at low tide, Sören put George on a step and tied him. "Stay," he said, wagging his finger. Anthony lost it again, leaning on Sören in the rock pool.
"You are the most ridiculous thing in existence," Anthony said.
"Even more ridiculous than the Royal Palace? Wow. Takk." Sören beamed.
Anthony kissed him. "I love you."
"I love you too, elskan."
Their eyes met and then Anthony kissed him deeply, hungrily. Sören's cock leapt to attention. They were the only two people around as far as the eye could see, and the combination of the kiss, Sören's feelings for Anthony, and the beautiful, melancholy seascape was a heady mix, Sören kissing him back and suddenly wanting, craving.
Sören habitually carried lube in his satchel now, and for this trip to Brighton he'd also been bringing along a carefully rolled-up beach towel. Sören pulled back to take out the towel, spreading it over the rocks, and he put the satchel down and began to undress.
"What are you doing?" Anthony asked, looking flustered.
"You, hopefully," Sören rasped, and pulled Anthony down with him.
Anthony got out of his clothes as quickly as he could, and when they were both naked, Anthony lay on the blanket with Sören on top of him and they laughed together. "I hope nobody comes," Anthony said, looking around nervously.
"Oh, I hope somebody comes." Sören gave him a pointed look.
It took Anthony a few seconds and then his laughter rang out. He gave Sören a mock stern look and slapped Sören's ass, before grabbing Sören and kissing him passionately. Sören moaned as Anthony kissed his neck, and cried out when Anthony began to lap and suckle his nipples, hard and sensitive in the chill of the sea air. Their mouths met again and their cocks rubbed together, and Sören reached for the lube in the satchel.
"How do you want it?" Sören asked him.
"Yes?"
They laughed together and kissed again. Anthony stroked Sören's face. "I want you inside me," Anthony husked, meeting his eyes. "I want to feel your life. Your passion. Your fire."
Sören kissed him as hard as he could, cock throbbing as he readied Anthony with slick fingers, one then two then three. When Anthony was ready he poured lube over Sören's cock. Sören leaned in to kiss him as he began to push inside, and when he was all the way in he rested there for a moment, the two looking into each other's eyes, breathing each other's breath. Sören had never felt closer to him than in this moment, Anthony seeming to exist on the same wavelength where he got it, the beauty of this place was affecting him the same way, wanting to share the magic with him.
Then Sören kissed him again and started to thrust, slowly, sweetly. Anthony's arms came around him to hold him. His breath hitched as the ring in Sören's cock rubbed that sweet spot inside him, and his arms tightened around Sören as he initiated the kiss.
It was a struggle for Sören to keep the pace slow the first few minutes, wanting to plow into the silken heat of his lover. But there was something about the way they both felt in this moment, something about being here by the sea, under the big sky, that made him control himself at least at first, needing to savor, needing to love. They continued to breathe each other's breath, faces close, touching, holding, as the low tide rolled and seabirds called in the distance.
And at last Anthony whispered, "Don't hold back," and Sören rose up, propped one of Anthony's legs on his shoulder, and pounded away. Anthony's hands slid over Sören's body as Sören rocked in and out of him, knowing where and how to touch him, making Sören break into gooseflesh, nipples aching. And the look of worship in Anthony's eyes as his moans got louder, echoing out to sea, fueled Sören's lust even hotter.
There was a forbidden thrill about doing this here, knowing others could pass by on the Undercliff Walk and see them, but it also felt incredibly right to love each other here like this, alone with the elements, no rooms but the sea and the rocks and the nearby cliffs, no roof but the sky. Their love for each other was like a force of nature, and being truly at one with nature here out in the rock pool felt like they were honoring that.
Sören grit his teeth, trying not to come, wanting Anthony to come first, but he felt more and more delicious, and the sight of him lost in ecstasy, the sound of him moaning, out of control, the slap of their flesh, had Sören right on that edge, trembling, gasping for breath. He reached down to play with Anthony's cock, stroking in time to his thrusts. Anthony was definitely on that edge himself, making a guttural noise as Sören began pleasuring his cock. Anthony's eyes rolled back and he moaned, "Oh god Sören. Oh god. Ohgod... ohgodohgod." He closed his eyes, shuddered, and then his eyes met Sören's, needy, desperate.
Sören felt himself hurtling to that place of no return, balls tightening and ready to explode. He needed Anthony to come with him. "Elskan," Sören growled. "Komdu með mér elskan mín. Ég vil að þú komir um allan líkama minn. Þegar ég hella djúpt í þig. Þegar ég rækta þig, fylltu þig."
"Ohgod." Anthony gasped and trembled. "Oh shit, Sören..."
Sören knew that was one of his weaknesses. Sören was relentless, driving into him even harder, shivering with his own need to climax. The slap of his balls alone was enough to make him go out of his mind, never mind the feel of Anthony around him, the sight of him, knowing Anthony was loving this as much as he was... "Það er rétt, ástin mín. Ég þarf að þú komir fyrir mig. Komdu fyrir mig, núna."
A few seconds later and Anthony shot over Sören's chest and stomach, pulsing around him. "Sören!" He let out a wordless cry, and then called out again as he quivered. "Sören. Sören..."
"Oh god, Anthony." Sören threw back his head and gave a hoarse, triumphant shout as he exploded, throbbing with searing, melting pleasure. Sören laughed and cried, it felt so good, and so right. Everything felt so very right.
Still shaking, Sören sank down. Anthony pulled him close and kissed him, and they rested there on the towel on the rocks, the low tide continuing to push and pull, the sea sparkling and the white cliffs gleaming in the sun. They rubbed noses and shared a few tender little kisses, and Sören listened to Anthony's heartbeat, feeling completely safe and at ease.
Anthony nuzzled Sören's curls, kissed the top of his head. "I love you so much."
Sören looked up at him, felt it so strongly it hurt, tightening his chest and throat, burning his eyes with tears. "I love you."
After laying there awhile longer they reluctantly put their clothes back on and went back to the step to don their footwear and retrieve George. Sören resumed walking him for the remainder of the seawall path, with Anthony every now and again glancing at Sören with the wig on a leash, totally deadpan, and cracking up laughing.
That afternoon Anthony read and Sören felt particularly inspired, starting a second painting of them on his WaCom tablet - the first one had been of them in the garden in Blackheath in springtime, Anthony inside Sören. Now Sören captured the moment in the rock pool at low tide, Anthony on his back on a beach towel, Sören inside him, one of Anthony's legs on Sören's shoulder, the look of love on their faces as they were joined, the look of awe in sharing this moment.
They were both caught up enough in their respective reading and creating that they didn't break until early evening. Sören made dinner and they ate by candlelight, then took a shower together and made love for a few rounds. As Sören drifted off to sleep, he felt like this had been one of the best days of his life.
Thursday's joy gave way to Friday's melancholy. All too soon, this vacation was over, though Sören wouldn't have to go to work until Monday. They went to the beach one last time in the afternoon; Sören sat and looked at the waves, knees drawn up, and Anthony sat behind him, holding him, gently rocking him.
"I almost wish we didn't have to go back," Sören said after awhile.
"I know." Anthony leaned in and kissed his cheek. He sighed and rubbed Sören's shoulder. "I know."
chapter 25 | return to Learning To Fly | return to Other Tolkien Fic | return to index