"Good morning, my love."
Sören crinkled his nose and smiled as he felt Anthony rain kisses over his face, and when he opened his eyes and looked into those beautiful summer green eyes shining with love, Sören's breath caught, feeling a tight ache in his chest. He loved Anthony so much.
Sören gave him a little kiss back. "Mornin'."
"Happy anniversary."
Sören bit his lower lip. It was the morning of November twentieth - they had now officially been together a year. And Sören wasn't just waking up in Anthony's arms, but waking up in Switzerland, where they had flown in yesterday afternoon. They were in Lucerne, staying at the Hotel des Balances in Old Town; their suite had a balcony overlooking the Reuss River, with a gorgeous view of the Jesuit church and other Swiss-style buildings. Their suite was done in cream and soft golds, and the bed was in a wall nook with a curtain, which Sören found charming and romantic.
Even better, they would be here in Switzerland through November twenty-sixth, the day after Sören's twenty-eighth birthday, flying back to London on Tuesday the twenty-seventh, returning to work on Wednesday the twenty-eighth. Just having over a week off was amazing, never mind spending it in Switzerland.
But here they were. It was like a dream come true. Sören was once again incredibly touched and grateful for the way Anthony spoiled him, and a tender little kiss deepened, heated, Sören caught up in the rush of his feelings, his passion for the man he loved.
"Mmmmmmmmmmm." Anthony kissed Sören back. "Do you want to get breakfast first, or -"
"Right now it's you I want to eat." With that, Sören rolled Anthony onto his back, kissing him fiercely.
They kissed and kissed, their tongues playfully licking together between kisses - they had slept nude after making love the night before, and now their hard cocks were rubbing together. Sören began kissing and licking Anthony's neck, making him moan, and he kissed his way to Anthony's nipples, looking into his eyes and watching him gasp and buck underneath him, clutching him as Sören lapped and suckled one, then the other, going back and forth between them. Anthony reached to tug on Sören's nipple rings, and his thumbs rubbed Sören's own sensitive, aching nipples as Sören continued to pleasure his.
Sören kissed Anthony's stomach, and over a hip bone, smiling as Anthony shivered and groaned. Sören's cock jolted at the gasp Anthony gave as he began to kiss and nibble a thigh, and Anthony gasped and moaned as Sören worked on the other. Sören hovered over Anthony's cock, breathing in the scent of his arousal, and took a long, slow, deliberate lick from the slit of Anthony's cock down the shaft to the root, watching Anthony breathe harder, lust and need on his face. Sören gently rubbed his tongue back and forth on the way back up the shaft to the head, and then there was another single stroke of his tongue back down, Sören's cock throbbing at the guttural sound Anthony made, the way he quivered, lashes fluttering.
After a few slow licks down Anthony's cock, Sören finally took it into his mouth, continuing to tease by sucking him slowly, while his hands played over Anthony's body, caressing his chest and stomach and hips and thighs, palms brushing downwards, fingers walking upwards, playing with his nipples before his hands slid down again. Sören loved hearing him moan and pant, watching him tremble, the look of ecstasy as Sören's mouth worked its magic. Sören sucked him slow for a long time, savoring the way Anthony melted to his mouth and his touch. Every now and again Sören let Anthony's cock slip from his mouth to give it a few slow strokes of his tongue, smiling as Anthony's moans got louder.
Eventually Sören sucked harder, faster, until Anthony was gently thrusting into his mouth, moaning and moaning, grabbing at Sören's curls. Before Anthony could come in his mouth, Sören took the cock out of his mouth, giving a wicked grin at the frustrated growl Anthony made, laughing softly as Anthony cried out when Sören began to lick Anthony's tight, sensitized balls. Sören lapped them slow and then fast, sucked them into his mouth and licked some more, not able to keep from playing with his own cock as Anthony's voice rose. Sören spread Anthony's legs and his tongue brushed the sensitive place between balls and ass, before making teasing circles around the rim of his opening. Then Sören's tongue speared him and Anthony gave a cry, gasping and crying out again as Sören began to lick inside him, rubbing his tongue hard and fast. Sören ate him hungrily, stroking himself harder as Anthony clutched his head and began to rock his hips, fucking himself on Sören's tongue. Then Sören slowed down, teasing him some more, laughing at that half-growl, half-whine of frenzied need.
"Sören..." Anthony gave him a pleading look.
Sören's tongue sped up, and soon he was shaking his head back and forth as his tongue fucked away. Then he stopped and put Anthony's cock in his mouth again, eyes locked as Sören sucked hard and fast. Sören put two fingers inside him, finding the sweet spot and rubbing, fingers fucking harder and harder as he sucked. Anthony bucked against Sören's fingers, thrust into his mouth, panting, gasping, moaning, and Sören's cock throbbed at watching him lose control like this. When Anthony at last came in Sören's mouth, shouting his name, Sören almost came too.
Sören swallowed and licked Anthony's cock clean, savoring the taste of him; Anthony grabbed Sören and pulled him up for a deep, passionate kiss.
Anthony rolled Sören onto his back and now it was his turn; Sören sighed and stretched, flexing like a happy cat as Anthony began to make love to his nipples, tongue lashing, suckling hard, pulling them with his lips, nibbling, tugging the nipple rings with his teeth and licking more slowly before lapping again. His fingers and thumb rubbed, pinched, plucked and tugged one nipple as his mouth pleasured the other. Anthony knew Sören's nipples were hard-wired to his cock, and he got Sören close to that edge just from going back and forth between his nipples, teasing them and teasing them. Then Anthony kissed up from Sören's collarbone, up his throat, licking between kisses, and claimed his mouth again, kissing him fiercely, their tongues rubbing together before they kissed again. Anthony kissed Sören's neck down to his shoulder, and back down to the nipples, sucking and lapping even harder, nibbling, playing with the nipple ring, heat in his eyes as he watched Sören writhe, swear in Icelandic, desperately clawing his back.
Anthony kissed and licked and nibbled Sören's stomach, and then Sören's cock was in his mouth. He sucked slowly at first, but since Sören was already so pent up he relented and sucked harder, cupping and rubbing Sören's balls as he sucked. Sören panted and rocked his hips, fucking Anthony's mouth, hearing himself pleading in Icelandic as the tension built higher and higher, winding tighter and tighter, the sweetness of Anthony's mouth bringing him closer until he was at the point of no return and flew, screaming as he let go in Anthony's mouth, moaning as Anthony gave an "mmmmmm", drinking it all down.
When Anthony came up to kiss him, he was hard again, and took both their cocks in his hand, stroking Sören's cock back to life. Sören moaned at the silken steel of Anthony's cock rubbing against his, the delicious sight of their hard cocks together. After a few minutes, he reached down and made the heads of their cocks kiss, and pushed the bead in the ring in his cock into the slit of Anthony's cock, making Anthony gasp and cry out. Anthony cried out again as Sören pulled back, and pushed in again. A few pushes and pulls later, Sören rolled his foreskin over the head of his cock and the head of Anthony's cock, and continued to rock his hips to push the bead in and out as his hand rubbed where their cockheads were joined. Anthony shuddered, moaning "oh god, oh god Sören, ohgodohgod..." until Sören kissed him. Then after their tongues played together between kisses Sören husked, "I like the way our cocks can kiss too," and kissed him again more deeply, and Anthony cried out into the kiss, shuddering as Sören felt his molten flow. The feeling of Anthony coming inside his sensitive foreskin and over the head of his cock made Sören come too, moaning into the kiss, arms holding Anthony tight as his body shook and heaved with the delicious throbbing pleasure.
"Fuck." Anthony laughed, kissing Sören's shoulder and burying his face there, giving a little sigh. He looked up and grinned. "I love you."
"I love you." Sören kissed him. "That was a good start to our anniversary."
"Yes, it was. It was perfect." Anthony nipped Sören's lower lip and kissed him back. "You're perfect."
"I'm not perfect."
"I beg to differ." Anthony kissed Sören's nose.
They cuddled together for awhile, and then Sören's stomach growled and that dragged them out of bed, showering together, holding each other and rocking in the shower. Then they got dressed, Anthony in a grey cashmere sweater and black jeans, Sören in a Queen T-shirt over a black turtleneck and faded jeans. They brought their outerwear with them, making sure to bundle up because of their plans for the day, and they went down to the hotel restaurant for breakfast, eating on the terrace by the river. Then they were off, making the short trip to the train station.
The plan for today was to take the train from Lucerne to Montreux, via the Golden Pass scenic route. Sören's breath was taken away at the snow-capped peaks, and then the train was going up and up and up into the mountains, looking down at the towns below, picturesque with the old-style Swiss architecture in the snow, looking like something out of a snow globe. The train stopped in Interlaken, where they took a private train to Lauterbrunnen, and then began the trip to Jungfraujoch. Sören once again was amazed at the beauty of the Lauterbrunnen valley, covered in snow. From Kleine Scheidegg to Junfraujoch, they passed through a dark tunnel, and it got chilly in the train as they climbed; Anthony had brought a cozy baby blue microfleece blanket and wrapped it around them, and Sören leaned on him, smiling.
The train stopped for a break and they got their first look at the Alps; they took a quick walk to a viewing area to see the Aletsch Glacier.
When the train arrived at Jungfraujoch station Sören felt the altitude more strongly - they were now at 3454 meters (11,300 feet) and Sören needed to puff on his inhaler. He felt a little light-headed, enough that he started laughing at nothing. Anthony grinned at him and laughed too. They put on sunglasses because the snow was blinding up here; both slightly out of breath, they took it slow to walk to the elevator for Sphinx Terrace. As much as Sören hated elevators because of claustrophobia, he didn't want to pass up the opportunity to see this, and it was well worth it when they reached the top.
Tears burned Sören's eyes behind the sunglasses as he looked out at the panorama of the view of Jungfrau, and a better view of the Aletsch Glacier. There was something wild and primal about the stark, pristine beauty of the mountains and the glacier, a feeling of strength and endurance, the mountain and glacier seeming to thrum with an ancient power. Sören thought about the passage of time and how much this part of the world had seen. Sören drank in the peace, the strength, gooseflesh coursing over him as he felt humbled, awed, in the presence of something bigger and older than himself, as if the land were alive. Though he was not religious at all he nonetheless appreciated how primitive humans also must have sensed the power here and reverenced it.
He made sure to take some pictures, including a couple of selfies of himself and Anthony. When they had their fill they went back down the elevator and decided to take the Mönchsjochhütte trail. Though it was well-groomed with even snow, it was also uphill, and every now and again they had to stop to catch their breath at this elevation. But the endless expanse of pristine white snow amid the craggy mountains was gorgeous, as was the feeling of walking on top of the world. Sören's sense of awe and wonder grew even stronger, and when Anthony took his hand and squeezed Sören knew he was feeling it too. It felt just as intimate as sex, if not moreso, to share this with him, being completely lost and taken by the beauty of nature, a place that felt downright sacred.
It was lunchtime when they got to the hut at Mönchsjochhütte. They had hot coffee with a light meal, and Sören was once again impressed by Anthony's background with languages, that he spoke German just as easily as French. They fed each other and nuzzled and gave each other little kisses, and when they got out of the hut Anthony grabbed Sören and kissed him deeply, and Sören twirled him around, laughing, feeling drunk on the elevation and love.
The walk back was downhill and considerably easier, though they still had to take it slow and take little rest stops; Sören took another hit from his inhaler when the hike was finished. Back at the glacier they went to the Ice Palace, carved out from the glacier, a series of tunnels and ice sculptures, walking on a sheet of ice. Even though Sören was from Iceland and his body threw off a lot of heat naturally and he was bundled up, he still shivered inside of the Ice Palace, and huddled close to Anthony, who got the blanket out of his travel bag and wrapped it around them.
At the base of the glacier Sören took selfies of them with the Swiss flag, including asking a couple of tourists to take their picture with his camera.
Sören had to visit Lindt Chocolate Heaven, and ended up spending money on chocolate, a knife, and a snow globe. Back in the train, Sören ate a truffle and shoved one in Anthony's mouth.
They took the train back to Interlaken and then to Zweisimmen. Sören marveled at the frozen Lake Thun, and more of the peaks of the Alps. At the Zweisimmen station they at last boarded the Golden Pass Classic, and Sören squeaked with delight when he saw the train, charmingly old-fashioned with wood-paneled walls and ceilings, green high-backed chairs and gold-trimmed luggage racks. The view of Lake Geneva in the wintertime was breathtaking, enough that Sören and Anthony kissed when it rolled out of sight, both feeling that awe again.
At last they were in Montreux. It was like something out of a fairytale, and Sören made little happy noises and clapped as they walked around, half-expecting to see Little Red Riding Hood or Cinderella or even a Big Bad Wolf. But what they saw instead was a statue of Freddie Mercury, which was part of why Anthony had planned for them to see Montreux. Sören screamed and hugged the statue's leg, making Anthony laugh. They got pictures of themselves with the statue.
They had dinner at a jazz club, listening to a band as they ate. Sören had a bit of wine and felt nice and mellow, and it was wonderful to see that Anthony was mellow as well, truly relaxed for once and completely present, rather than his mind being far away as the gears spun in his head about the latest cases he had to deal with. They played footsie under the table, making Sören feel flirty and flustered and a little horny. The horniness intensified on the train ride back to Lucerne, where they cuddled under the blanket, watching the landscape at night, the villages looking cozy lit up, even more like something out of a snow globe, and Anthony and Sören gently necked and did a little groping under the blanket.
As soon as they got back to their hotel room in Lucerne, Sören began undressing and marched Anthony to the bed, kissing him all the way. Anthony laughed as Sören shoved him down on the bed, and pounced on him with a growl.
"What's gotten into you?" Anthony asked, grinning.
"Your cock, hopefully."
Anthony grabbed Sören and pulled him down into a kiss, and reached for their lube. Sören wasted no time pouring the lube over Anthony's cock, working it in, and then straddled his hips and impaled himself. When Anthony was all the way in they took each other's hands and sighed contentedly.
"I love you," Anthony said, looking up at him adoringly.
"I love you." Sören leaned in to kiss him.
Then he began to ride, holding onto Anthony's shoulders, with Anthony's arms around him. It wasn't just an act of love this time, pleasing each other, but it was an act of joy. Sören felt alive, and like the past was far away. This was his present, his future, his partner in the truest sense of the word, his soulmate, his playmate. Sören rode him with a sense of triumph, a feeling of rightness, like they truly belonged together, belonged to each other. That intense, overwhelming feeling of love intensified the deliciousness of Anthony's cock stroking him just the right way, and after a wild ride, bouncing fast and furious, Sören came hard, brought to tears. Anthony cried a little too, and they rocked together, kissing each other's tears, kissing deeply, petting each other, wrapped up in an afterglow that felt literal, everything warm and bright and beautiful.
After cuddling for awhile they wanted to go again. With Anthony on his back, Sören took him, going slowly at first, holding Anthony's hands and kissing him again and again. When Anthony's hands slipped from his, his arms encircled Sören, holding him tight, and then his hands slid over Sören's body, fingers tracing every outline, every plane of his flesh, and at last Sören's face, looking into his eyes. Sören couldn't resist sucking Anthony's fingers into his mouth, which made Anthony rock back at him harder and Sören matched his rhythm, thrusting faster. Then Anthony leaned up to kiss and lick Sören's nipples, tugging the rings with his teeth and lapping some more, and Sören thrust harder still, losing himself in the silken heat wrapped around him. Their mouths met hungrily, and as they kissed Sören pounded him, need overtaking him, feeling like he needed to consume Anthony with every part of him. Anthony bucked underneath him, clawing Sören's back, and when he started kissing Sören's neck, Sören fought back his orgasm with grit teeth, reaching down to stroke Anthony's cock in time with his thrusts. Anthony bit Sören's shoulder as he came, growling, and Sören cried out as he spent into him, collapsing into Anthony's chest with a shuddery sigh.
Before Sören passed out, he heard himself mumble, "This has been the best day of my life."
And Anthony said, "I want to give you a lifetime of best days."
They took train rides around Switzerland every day for the rest of their vacation - Sören was particularly entranced by the Matterhorn, and he loved Zermatt with the Gornergrat Bahn - the highest open-air railway in Europe - and visiting the petroglyphs and prehistoric grinding stone at Hubelwäng, though neither he nor Anthony could say "Hubelwäng" with a straight face, giggling at it like a couple of stupid teenagers. But despite their joking, there was a liminal feeling at the ten prehistoric stones that made his hair stand on end and even with it being winter Sören felt something warm there, as if there was a reactor underground; for the briefest instant the Heidenplatte seemed to glow, and Sören got the image in his mind's eye of the Heidenplatte as a door, people walking into the stone and going into blinding light...
On Sören's birthday they spent the afternoon taking the gondola up Mount Pilatus. Though Sören was claustrophobic and the gondola was small and many, many meters up in the air, Anthony was right there which helped make it feel cozy rather than terrifying. They snuggled as they watched the view from inside the gondola - Sören felt as if he were flying, and he was once again awed by the ancient power of the mountain, which seemed to watch them as they made the ascent up the cable. Sören took pictures, and knew he was going to paint this when they returned to England, the feeling that the mountain was alive somehow.
After the gondola trip they went shopping in Lucerne. "We should do Christmas shopping while we're here," Anthony said. "That way when it's closer to Christmas we can just relax instead of having to run around worrying about gifts."
"That would be efficient," Sören agreed, nodding.
They split up to go shopping - "don't be too extravagant with whatever you're getting for me," Sören nagged, and Anthony just flashed him a grin. Don't get me another fucking Rolex, Sören thought, feeling a bitter pang at the ultra expensive watch Anthony had gotten him earlier in the year that he hardly ever wore because watches weren't practical in his line of work.
Sören still found Anthony hard to shop for, even after a year together, and it was even harder to think as he was captivated by the old-fashioned shop buildings with their gabled roofs and bright colors, enchanting in the snow. But at last he settled on a navy blue cashmere scarf, in keeping with their rule of spending under a hundred quid last year, and giving Anthony an article of clothing so the Yule Cat wouldn't eat him, and in honor of Anthony tying him up with a cashmere scarf for the first time at Christmas last year.
When they met back up at a cafe, Anthony had a cat-that-ate-the-canary expression on his face and Sören gave him a look.
Anthony had also gotten Sören a birthday present, which Sören wasn't expecting since this trip basically was his birthday present and had been a non-trivial expense, running thousands of dollars between airfare, the hotel and the train trips. Anthony had given Sören tanzanite stud earrings for their six-month anniversary and now, for the second pair of holes in Sören's ears, there were sapphires. Sören screamed and sobbed. He loved them, but he also felt a little guilty that Anthony was spending so much money on him. And yet, Anthony gave freely, ungrudgingly, taking happiness in giving Sören nice things. Sören smiled as Anthony put the little sapphires in Sören's ears, next to the tanzanites.
"You know blue is my favorite color," Sören said.
"I do know that." Anthony squeezed his hand.
Sören still couldn't believe it as they walked back to the hotel. Anthony grinned, and at the mischief in his eyes, Sören said, "You had better not have spent a fortune on me for Christmas."
Anthony just batted his eyes, and Sören stopped, put his hands on his hips, and said, "Cornelius Anthony Hewlett-Johnson."
"I guess you'll have to wait for Christmas and find out, won't you?"
On impulse, Sören squatted down in the snow, rolled up a snowball, and then he hit Anthony with it. He and Anthony had a snowball fight all the way back to the hotel, and in front of the hotel Anthony just grabbed Sören and pushed them both down into the snow, rolling around in the snow together, laughing.
They had dinner on the terrace, and German chocolate cake for Sören's birthday. The sun set as they ate, and the romantic sunset on the Reusse River and the lingering playfulness between them put Sören in an amorous mood. When they got back to their suite, they quickly undressed and fell into bed together.
But first they just held each other, naked, looking into each other's eyes. Anthony stroked Sören's cheek and pet his curls, and the look of love and wonder in his eyes brought tears to Sören's own.
Then they kissed, deeply, fiercely, holding each other tight, clinging like their lives depended on it. Anthony rolled onto his back and pulled Sören atop him, and fumbled for the lube on the bedtable. Sören worked slick fingers in and out of him, kissing him again and again, and at last slicked his own cock. They kissed like they were trying to devour each other as Sören pushed into him, and when Sören bottomed out in him, they sighed together and Anthony held him tighter, wrapping his legs around him.
Their eyes and their kisses expressed what words could not, this feeling deeper than love. Sören went slowly, then faster, and Anthony bucked beneath him, urging Sören on faster still. Sören drove into him with abandon, wild and hungry, needing to take all that Anthony had to give, driven mad with lust at the sound of Anthony's broken cries, the sweet sting of the nails in his back.
And then Sören found himself reaching for the knife he'd bought at the Jungfrau, holding it to Anthony's throat. "Your life is mine," Sören growled. He dragged the sharp blade down to Anthony's chest, cutting here and there, lapping the blood that flowed. "Your heart is mine, your soul is mine."
"Yes. God, yes..."
"Mine." Sören slid the knife back up, pressing the blade in hard enough for Anthony to feel its bite, and made another nick when it reached Anthony's throat. He sucked on it, and Anthony howled and rocked back at him harder, Sören pounding him into the mattress, as hard as he could fuck. "Mine. My brother. My blood. Mine."
"Oh, god, Sören..." Anthony let out a little sob and then Sören felt him shoot, and the look on Anthony's face and the feeling of his hot seed spurting over him, the pulsing walls around him, set off Sören's own climax, growling as he spent.
Sören drifted a little, and came back to feeling cold metal, a sharp point at his throat. It was Anthony's turn, who had gotten the knife out of Sören's hand as he relaxed his grip. Anthony kissed him as he rolled Sören onto his back, and Sören sighed with a shiver as the knife dragged down to his heart, then across to trail circles around his nipple. "You're mine too," Anthony whispered, before the blade ran over the aching nub, then Anthony drew it into his mouth, sucking hard. Sören cried out and bucked against him, spreading, wanting to be filled. But he knew it was going to be awhile; Anthony took his time getting there, kissing in the wake of the blade as it moved across to the other nipple. "Mine." After the blade ran around the nipple and over, Anthony tugged with his teeth. Sören's cock jolted and he made a helpless little whine.
Anthony drove Sören crazy, teasing back and forth. Sören reached for Anthony's cock, poured lube over it, and tried to guide it to his twitching hole, and Anthony laughed and slapped Sören's hand away. "Not yet," Anthony said, kissing Sören's neck, knowing how sensitive Sören was there, too. Sören gave a half-whine, half-growl through grit teeth and raked Anthony's back.
"I see we've got a live one here." Anthony reached for the scarf in the chair with his winter gear, grabbed Sören's hands and tied his wrists to the headboard. Sören's cock throbbed, hole twitching again, going out of his mind with need - he loved being tied up like this, and Anthony knew it. When he was bound Anthony surveyed his handiwork, and then he said, "Now where was I?" and put the knife to Sören's throat as he kissed and licked Sören's neck and shoulder. Then the knife was tracing around and around Sören's nipple again, before running over it, followed by Anthony's tongue.
With Sören tied up and completely under Anthony's control - though all Sören had to do was ask if he wanted to be untied - Anthony teased him for as long as he could, spending a long time going back and forth between Sören's nipples with the knife and his teeth and tongue. Sören had never seen his nipples so swollen, and Anthony loved it, suckling hard. Then he trailed the knife over Sören's rib cage and then his stomach, making little cuts, licking the blood. The feeling of the blade tracing in slow lines over his thighs made Sören whimper and buck, harder when the blade was chased by Anthony's tongue. Shockingly, the blade traced slowly down the shaft of Sören's cock, and the feel of Anthony's tongue following the trail of the blade almost set Sören off right then.
Anthony held the knife to Sören's throat as he took him. He went slowly at first, watching Sören's face and especially his eyes as he teased with those delicious slow thrusts, holding Sören under his power with the bonds and the knife. Soon Sören was writhing against the restraints, howling, and Anthony went faster, nibbling Sören's neck as the knife trailed up and down his throat.
Then Anthony held nothing back, one of Sören's legs around his waist, the knife at Sören's heart as he slammed into him harder and harder. "Who do you belong to?"
"You. Oh god... you, I'm yours, I'm yours, take me, fuck me..." Sören shuddered.
"Mine. Always. No matter what." Their eyes met. "I will never, ever let you go."
And Sören could feel it, that bond between them, from whatever time those dreams had been set in, bringing them back to each other now. Their love was as ancient and as strong and enduring as the mountains surrounding them, as high as their peaks. In his mind's eye Sören saw a flash of that distant pass, wanting to escape with his brother-lovers, over the mountains, where no one can judge us, no one can touch us. Then a vision of fire, burning everything to ash.
But like the phoenix inked on his skin, they had been reborn, and they were here.
"Mine," Anthony gritted out, trembling.
"Yours." And with that, Sören gave a little whimper, he was so close, so close rightthererightthere...
"Come for me," Anthony commanded.
"Oh god, Anthony!" Sören gave a wordless howl as he erupted, shooting over Anthony's chest and stomach.
A few thrusts later and Anthony cried out, and Sören moaned as he felt that flood inside him. Anthony let go of the knife and came down, kissing Sören deeply, and untied his wrists. Sören flexed his wrists and wrapped his arms around Anthony, holding on for dear life, rocking and rocking, laughing and crying.
"Oh god." Sören laughed through his tears. "Oh god. Oh god..."
"Sören." Anthony's eyes were too bright. "You're beautiful."
"So are you." Sören kissed him hard. "What we have is beautiful."
Already they were both hard again, insatiable, rubbing together, tongues licking between kisses. Sören gloried in the fire between them, not able to stop smiling, laughing, feeling drunk and crazy in love. "This has been an even better birthday than the one last year."
"We can celebrate all night." Anthony grinned, and kissed him again.
chapter 29 | return to Learning To Fly | return to Other Tolkien Fic | return to index