It was a typical Saturday morning - Anthony was working on his laptop, and Sören was drawing on his WaCom tablet. Anthony had a disgruntled look on his face as he typed and paused to read, and every now and again let out a little noise of frustration. After this had gone on for awhile Sören put his tablet down for a moment. "You OK?" he asked.
Anthony nodded, though his eyes were narrowed and his brow furrowed. "Yeah, I am. Just..." He made a vague hand gesture at the laptop. "This particular case is challenging." He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply. "I hate my job sometimes."
"Well, can you take a break? I mean, it is Saturday, after all."
Sören knew that the answer to that was usually no - that Anthony couldn't relax until a job was finished. He had figured out Anthony was a type A personality early into the relationship and it wasn't always a bad thing; his take-charge attitude and need to be thorough had been a boon more than a hindrance most of the time. But when Sören came home from work he was home, he wasn't taking his job with him, and sometimes he felt like Anthony pushed himself too hard and Sören naturally worried for him. And even though he knew his suggestion to take a break from homework would probably be met with a no, Sören still had to ask anyway, hoping one day it would get through to him.
This time Anthony leaned back and looked at the time, and gave a small nod. "I think I should probably put this aside for a bit, get my mind off it. Then I'll be more fresh when I get back to it."
Sören couldn't help smiling, feeling like he'd accomplished something. "There you go." September fifteenth, 2012: the day I finally got Anthony Hewlett-Johnson to take a break.
Anthony got up from his desk, stretched, and yawned. He came over to give Sören a kiss and a pat before he walked off down the hall. Sören picked his tablet back up and resumed drawing, and got re-absorbed in the little world he was creating with his stylus rather quickly. A short while later Anthony came back out to the living room, dressed in jeans and a cashmere sweater; Sören paused as he watched Anthony put on his brogues.
"I'm going out for a walk," Anthony said. "To get some air."
"Oh." Sören tapped the stylus. "Do you want me to come with you?"
"Maybe later? Just going for a short walk to clear my head."
"OK."
Sören didn't mind - they didn't have to be joined at the hip all the time - but he was still worried about Anthony, knowing this was such a difficult case for him, and he'd had a lot of those lately. A few minutes after Anthony took off for his walk, Sören stopped drawing and sighed, wishing there was something he could do to make Anthony feel better. Sex was always an obvious choice, but Sören knew Anthony's break was probably only going to be a short one and he wouldn't be able to relax enough for that until later when he had more work done.
Sören did love to make Anthony laugh, and now he found himself getting up and walking to the bedroom. He produced George the wig from the closet, and brought George out to the kitchen. He put on tea in anticipation of when Anthony would get back, and by the time the tea was ready, Anthony came back in. As Sören predicted, Anthony joined him in the kitchen to fix his own tea the way he liked it, and when his cup was done, he paused and did a double-take at George sitting in the blender.
The look on his face was priceless and Sören doubled over the counter, laughing.
"What even..." Anthony also doubled over.
"I guess he got restless and wanted to go exploring," Sören said, completely deadpan.
Anthony narrowed his eyes, but couldn't help smiling.
On Monday, Sören was scheduled to work from late morning to late evening. Anthony was already gone when he woke up, but Sören found another handwritten love note:
I spent awhile watching you sleep. You look so beautiful.
Sören smiled, gave the note a little kiss - it smelled like Anthony's cologne - and he pressed it to his heart for a moment before he got up and tucked the note away in the hollow book where he kept all of the love notes Anthony had written him and bags of some of the petals from each of the bouquets of flowers Anthony had gotten for him over the course of their relationship thus far.
Anthony was on Sören's mind a lot during his shift; after four PM when Sören was on break, Anthony arrived at the cafe unannounced, and came over with coffee for Sören, who had several more grueling hours to go. For a few minutes Sören just leaned on him, and then after Sören had some coffee, Anthony held him and pet him.
"I miss you," Anthony husked, planting a kiss on Sören's brow.
"I appreciated the note this morning." Sören stroked his cheek.
"Well, it was the truth." Their eyes met. "You're still beautiful."
Sören rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Not like this." He didn't like having his hair up for work, and he felt plain in his scrubs.
"No, even like this. Remember I asked you on a date when you were like this." Anthony gave him a mock stern look. "You can take compliments, you know."
"Well, you look very handsome." Anthony had come straight from work and was in a charcoal grey suit; Sören played with the tie he had given Anthony for Christmas last year, smiling fondly.
Anthony put the coffee back in Sören's hands. "Here," he said. "I thought you could use the boost of caffeine."
"You thought correctly." Sören patted him.
"I'll be by to pick you up when you're off at ten," Anthony said.
"You sure you don't want to just rest for the evening?"
Anthony shrugged. "I don't mind. I want to be able to see you."
Sören sipped coffee, then put the cup down and hugged Anthony tight, feeling that ache in a good way, feeling loved.
Anthony did in fact drive him home, and had dinner ready for him when they got in. Then Sören took a shower and went to bed, exhausted. When Anthony's alarm went off on Tuesday morning he woke Sören up with urgent, feverish kisses and Sören took him hard and fast. After a good orgasm Sören went back to sleep - he was doing the overnight shift tonight and wouldn't have to be up until later. Anthony tucked him in, making Sören smile; a few hours later when Sören woke up again, he saw George sitting on top of the alarm clock with a purposely-messy handwritten note that said MEOW MEOW MOO.
Sören howled with laughter and patted George. "Good boy."
When Anthony got home from work after five, Sören was taking a nap in preparation of his overnight shift; dinner was going in the slow cooker. Sören was woken up to the sound of Anthony laughing in the kitchen and Sören smiled, knowing Anthony had found it. Sure enough, Anthony came in a minute later and leaned against the door frame with his arms folded.
"What is George doing on top of the refrigerator?"
"Probably exploring some more." Sören snickered. "At least it's not the blender this time."
They ate together, and then Anthony rubbed Sören's feet as Sören leaned on him, making happy purring noises. George was sitting on the coffee table now and every now and again Anthony would look at the wig, then at Sören, and start laughing again.
"You're terrible, you know," Anthony said.
"I know."
Anthony wagged his finger at George. "And you. Bad."
Sören kept a straight face, though it was very difficult. "Oh, Anthony, don't be so hard on poor George. Let him have his fun."
Anthony raised an eyebrow at Sören, also trying to be deadpan. "You're a bad influence on him."
"Takk."
Then Sören had a truly awful idea. "Do you have court tomorrow?"
Anthony shook his head. "Thursday."
"OK."
Anthony gave Sören a curious look, and Sören continued to play deadpan.
That night before he had to go to work, Sören packed his satchel as usual. But this time he put George in the satchel.
Anthony drove Sören to work, even though it was late. They lingered in the parking lot, cuddling, kissing. Sweet, gentle little kisses became deep and hungry; their tongues playing together got Sören worked up, wishing he didn't have to go in and could just make love to the man he loved. Sören stopped in the bathroom and quickly brought himself off thinking of Anthony fucking him before his shift started.
An hour later Sören got a text from Anthony, with an image attached of Anthony's cock dripping precum, and the text said thinking of you. Sören bit his lip and groaned, and ducked into the restroom at the first available opportunity to jerk off again, coming hard at the fantasy of sucking Anthony off, tasting him. Sören took a picture just after orgasm with a dollop of cum leaking from his cock. Wish you were here, Sören sent back.
A few minutes after he sent that picture, Anthony replied with Now I'm hard again, you naughty thing.
Sören grinned as he fired off Hi Hard Again You Naughty Thing.
Sören's break wasn't scheduled until seven AM Wednesday morning, which was what time Anthony was commuting to work, so he knew Anthony wouldn't be stopping by for his break. That was just as well. Sören wandered around Queen's Square, needing to get some fresh air, and he took George out of the satchel and took pictures of George in the garden, and one at St. George's Cathedral. He texted the pictures to Anthony, the one with George at the church captioned Showing George his namesake.
Anthony replied fifteen minutes later. What in the hell.
Sören had a gigglefit. He wanted to get out. I can't blame him, he only gets to go out to go to court and that's no fun.
You are a brat, Anthony shot back.
Sören texted back the "innocent" emoji, a smiling face with a halo.
You're going to get it later.
Sören replied with Promises, promises.
Sören had Wednesday night off, not having to go back in until Thursday morning. When he got home from work early Wednesday afternoon, he took a shower and got in bed for a nap. He was woken up by the feeling of hair rubbing on his nose, and opened his eyes and saw George in his face. "Prrrp?"
Sören laughed and kissed George, then pulled Anthony down into a little kiss. "Hey," Sören said.
"Hi." Anthony was still fully dressed in his suit, but he wasted no time getting undressed, and crawled into bed with Sören once he was naked.
Anthony drew Sören into his arms and kissed him deeply. Sören moaned, his cock leaping to attention as their tongues licked, teased, and there was that delicious feeling of skin to skin, Anthony's hands on him, their cocks rubbing together. They kissed and kissed - just from kissing, Sören was right on that edge, aching to come. When Anthony began to kiss Sören's neck, Sören heard himself whimper. He bucked up against Anthony, panting, trembling as Anthony's mouth knew exactly where and how to drive Sören crazy. When Anthony licked down Sören's neck, Sören's nails dug into him. "Please," Sören gasped.
Anthony gave Sören that smug little smirk that Sören had come to recognize as Anthony's "dom face" - when he had Sören right where he wanted him, submissive and pliant. Anthony skritched Sören's beard and kissed the tip of his nose, and then he said, "You were very naughty today."
Sören crinkled his nose and bit his lower lip. His cock and hole twinged, knowing what he was probably in for. "Oops."
"Mhm." With that, Anthony grabbed Sören and pulled him over his knee. "I think you've earnt twenty spankings."
Sören looked over at him and gave a cheeky grin. "Only twenty?"
Anthony swatted Sören's ass hard enough to make Sören yelp. "That's one." He rubbed Sören's ass - making Sören's hole twitch, needing to be filled - and slapped Sören's ass again, as hard as before. The sting made Sören's cock throb and his balls tighten, pleasure-pain burning through his entire body. Sören moaned and ground against Anthony's thigh.
After twenty of those powerful swats, Anthony rubbed aloe vera on Sören's ass, and the slow, sensual caresses on his sensitized flesh drove Sören crazy, as well as the tenderness after being so forceful. Sören was ready to climb the walls with fierce sexual need, and they had barely begun.
Anthony just held Sören for a few minutes, cradling him, stroking his curls, then he commanded, "Kneel on the floor."
Sören did as he was told, watching Anthony expectantly. Anthony got up and pulled out a scarf they'd started keeping in the bedtable drawer for bondage games. He came over, pulled Sören's arms forward, and bound Sören's wrists together. He had Sören try to pull on the restraint to make sure it was neither too loose nor too tight. When Anthony was satisfied Sören was tied securely, he took a moment to pet Sören's cheek and Sören smiled up at him adoringly.
Then Anthony got back on the bed and lay there, propped up on one elbow, stroking himself idly with his left hand. Sören whined, and gave a more urgent whimper when Anthony started to stroke a little harder and faster.
"I did this last night thinking of you," Anthony said. "Not as good as the real thing, but I still got off."
Sören whimpered again.
"Oh, are you worried that I'm going to just pleasure myself and not give you any?" Anthony gave him that smug little smile again. "You were a very naughty brat, taking my wig with you without permission..." Anthony's thumb began to rub the slit and the frenulum of his cock, and he groaned. "I don't know if little brats like you should get what they want."
"Oh god, please." Sören bit his lip and gave a very undignified whine, his cock throbbing, hole aching, wanting him. "Oh, fuck..."
"Mmmmm, I do like to hear you beg." Their eyes locked. "Beg for me."
"Oh god. Please, Anthony, please. Please... please, brother..."
Being made to beg for it got Sören even hotter. He loved feeling shameless and wanton like this, after having been afraid of sex after what happened in Iceland, so closed off, shut down. He loved being driven crazy with wanting, needing, craving. His cock was dripping precum now... and so was Anthony's. Sören licked his lips, wanting to taste him, but even more than that he wanted to get fucked. Hard. They both needed it, with work being so stressful...
"Please, Anthony. Please, brother. Please. Please. Oh god, I need it, I want it, I need it so bad, please, please..."
"What do you need, love?" Their eyes met again. "Tell me."
Sören's nipples hardened now too as he begged, "I need your cock. I want your cock, oh god, Anthony, please... please give me your cock, please, please, I want my brother's cock..." A shiver went down Sören's spine, his cock continuing to stiffen and throb, balls tightening.
"You beg so sweetly." Anthony continued stroking himself, Sören's eyes riveted.
"Please. Oh god please, Anthony, please, please, brother, I want your cock so fucking bad, please, brother, please, please, please, pleasepleaseplease..." Sören gave another desperate little whimper.
Anthony moaned, and stopped stroking himself; Sören watched Anthony's cock jolt and couldn't help smiling, knowing this was driving Anthony crazy too. Anthony got up from the bed and came over to Sören, and for a moment they just looked at each other, then Anthony thrust his hips forward and guided Sören's head to his hard cock.
Sören's lips wrapped around it and he watched Anthony as the cock slid into his mouth, inch by inch. Sören's own cock throbbed deliciously as he watched Anthony shudder and his head rolled, letting out a moan as he felt Sören's mouth.
Sören began to suck slowly, watching Anthony, cock pulsing at the heavy breathing, each little hitch of his breath, each soft moan, each sigh. Sören loved sucking cock, and Anthony's cock in particular, wanting to worship the beautiful, perfectly-formed manhood, feeling completely lost in hot male-on-male sex. But he also badly wanted that cock inside him, and Sören began to whimper again with his mouth full, pleading at Anthony with his eyes.
At last Anthony took his cock out of Sören's mouth. "Yes?" He gave Sören an amused look.
"Please, I need your cock..."
"I'm giving you my cock, aren't I?" That smug little smirk again.
Sören made a noise that was half-growl, half-howl. "Inside me. Fuck me. Please."
"You mean like this?" Anthony grabbed Sören's head, shoved his cock back in Sören's mouth, and held Sören's head as he began to thrust into Sören's mouth.
Sören loved that, he could almost come just from having his mouth fucked that way, feeling so lusciously slutty. But that wasn't what he'd meant... and Anthony knew it. Their eyes met again and Sören whimpered with his mouth full, gave another whine and another.
Anthony relented, laughing softly as he let his cock slip from Sören's mouth. He picked Sören up off the floor and put him down on the bed, and then Anthony grabbed the lube as he climbed on, and lay on his back. He poured lube onto his hard, flushed, glistening cock and then he reached for Sören's hips and helped Sören climb over him, with Sören's hands still bound.
"Well, now you're going to have as much of this cock as you can take," Anthony said as Sören straddled his hips. "I'm going to fuck you as long as you can stand it. Make you come as much as you can stand it."
"Oh god, yes..." Sören gasped, and moaned as he felt the tip of Anthony's cock push into him.
Anthony gently tugged on the scarf still binding Sören's wrists - not undoing the knots. "Let me know if and when I need to stop."
Sören gave a deep, hungry growl. "Fucking give it to me."
Anthony chuckled, and stopped laughing once he was all the way inside Sören, buried to the hilt. They moaned together, and again when Sören began to work his hips, bouncing on Anthony's cock. Anthony rocked his hips back at Sören, thrusting into him.
Sören rode him to climax after climax, losing count after six. They worked up a sweat, and the sight of each other with damp hair, glistening, the scent and the wet slapping, suctioning sound as loud as their moans and cries, just fueled their lust even hotter. Sören loved losing himself in sex like this, that place where nothing else mattered except their male bodies together, the sweet pleasure of Anthony's cock rubbing just right inside him... nothing else mattered but their hot, needy fuck, mating like two animals. Sören loved being dominated this way, surrendering so completely, perfect trust in the man who gave him so much pleasure, so much passion. Even as Anthony took Sören, possessing him, Sören begged "more, more, oh god, fuck me, don't stop, I need more..." This was just as much what Sören wanted, what he craved, being made to ride Anthony over and over, bucking madly to Anthony's savage, punishing thrusts, giving himself so willingly, wantonly. He never felt more alive as when he was getting fucked hard and furious like this, when he was insatiable like this.
And Anthony knew it. "Burn for me, my spirit of fire."
Sören's heart soared, flying, intoxicated, feeling transformed by joy, ecstasy. He was bound but felt so free.
Hours later they were shattered, spent. Sören was deliciously sore, and reveled in that feeling of being sticky inside and out, and well-used. Sweat-soaked, they lay in each other's arms, their legs entwined. Sören's hands were finally unbound and he found himself exploring Anthony's face with his fingers, letting his fingers wander and brush the rest of his body, as if he were painting Anthony to life with his hands, or burning the shape and form of him into his memory.
The next day Sören brought the WaCom tablet in his satchel instead of George, and went outside again on his break, drawing on the tablet. He started a new project - a sketch that would become a painting, of himself on his knees, hands bound, head bowed as if in prayer. Sören remembered that feeling of all-consuming desire last night, blazing... feeling like he was flying. In his mind's eye he saw the finished product on the tablet, flames spreading around him, his naked back and arm molting, growing feathers of fire like the phoenix inked on his skin, some feathers appearing in his mop of curls. Wild, like a bird deity or fire god of some ancient, long-forgotten pantheon.
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