Rain Falls: Chapter 32

It was one AM when Sören left the National, feeling like his soul had been sucked dry. He'd come into work at nine AM and he'd been performing a deep tumor removal surgery on one patient all that time, with only a couple short breaks - a few hours ago Anthony had texted, and Sören had told him not to wait up.

It was also about to be Valentine's Day - it was February thirteenth when Sören had arrived at work. He would have all of Thursday the fourteenth off, now, but Anthony himself was in the middle of a complicated court battle so Sören knew their Valentine's Day would be compromised by Anthony's stress from work, never mind Sören's own need to decompress after a long surgical procedure.

Sören was really looking forward to just crawling in bed next to Anthony, spooning him, and snuggling to sleep.

When Sören made it up the stairs to their flat on the second floor, he saw light from underneath the door threshold - usually when he was coming back this late Anthony had the lights off. Sören opened the door and he saw Anthony sitting at his desk in his pajamas, wearing his wire-rimmed glasses, a pen between his teeth as he typed furiously at his laptop.

"Loo-see, I'm ho-ome," Sören called, imitating Ricky Ricardo's accent.

Anthony's eyes widened and he waved, flailing madly, and he said "hello" with the pen in his mouth, which came out as "herro". He took the pen out of his mouth, looking sheepish, and he cleared his throat and said, "Hello."

Sören noticed the mug sitting next to Anthony at the desk. "How many cups of coffee have you had, exactly?"

"...Yes."

Sören snorted and chuckled. Then he said, "Be right back, have to decontaminate." As badly as he wanted to go over and give Anthony a hug, he was still in his scrubs, fresh from surgery. He went first to the kitchen sink to wash his hands, and then he went to the bedroom, got changed, and threw his dirty scrubs in the hamper they'd gotten just for Sören's scrubs, on the way back down to the living room.

"I'd asked what time you were coming home because I would have picked you up," Anthony said, glancing over at Sören as he typed, fingers flying.

"Well, I didn't even know. The surgery went on and on and on."

"That bad?"

"He didn't die or anything, but, you know. Deep tumor." Sören folded his arms. "And I would have expected you to go to bed, anyway."

"I... I can't." Anthony gestured at the laptop. "Things have gotten really interesting, in the Chinese 'interesting times' sense, with this case."

"You have court again tomorrow, já?"

"Nine AM."

"Are you actually planning on sleeping at some point?"

Anthony gave a bitter laugh.

"I mean it, Anthony. This is a doctor speaking. You should try to get at least a few hours of sleep."

"I tried to make myself stop working on these notes earlier but I just lay there. It's better I not let this wait until the morning." Anthony pursed his lips. "The guy is innocent. I have to try to prove it."

Anthony had a feverish, almost manic look in his eye. Sören recognized that look, not just from having seen it with Anthony before, but when he was on break during the surgery and washing his hands, Sören had seen the same look in his own eye, his mind not entirely away from the man on the operating table.

As if Anthony knew what Sören was thinking, he replied with, "This is like surgery too. My work isn't done just because I'm not in the courtroom at the moment."

"OK. Well, again, you do need some sleep at some point. You're already going to get less than eight hours if you let yourself sleep in till eight AM, and we both know you won't do that."

"I'll take a nap in a couple of hours," Anthony said. "That's the best I can do."

Sören made a face, and a disgruntled noise, but he knew from his own experience with not being able to shut his brain off that it was better not to argue with Anthony. Sören went to bed, giving a sad little sigh about being alone in the bed - he had been looking forward to curling up with the man he loved, and he found it harder to sleep without Anthony there beside him, tossing and turning for a bit. But eventually his exhaustion hit him enough that he felt himself dozing.

He was woken up some time later by the feel of Anthony getting in beside him, and Sören instinctively rolled towards Anthony, making contented noises. "You feel nice," Sören mumbled.

"Awwww." Anthony's arms wrapped around Sören, and Sören smiled at the feel of Anthony kissing the top of his head. "I love you, sweetheart."

"Love you, elskan."

Sören dozed off again, but his sleep was lighter. He kept waking up when he felt Anthony shifting, and when it became more frequent, and he heard Anthony grumble, he was finally roused out of sleep entirely. Sören sat up, rubbed his eyes, and saw Anthony lying awake, looking distressed.

"Can't sleep?" Sören asked.

Anthony shook his head. "It's like it was earlier. Trying just makes me feel more restless." He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Sören grabbed Anthony's arm and pulled him to an upright sitting position. He gently smoothed Anthony's hair, kissed his brow, and then got up from the bed and gestured for Anthony to follow. "Here. I'm going to try to help you shut your mind off."

Sören saw that it was already four AM. Anthony usually woke up at five, sometimes six but no later than. The best Anthony could hope for now was being able to sleep in an hour and waking up at seven or eight. Sören put on water for tea and got out the lavender chamomile herbal tea, while Anthony sat on the couch. As the water boiled, Sören turned on the TV and looked at the program guide. There was a block of ancient Star Trek: The Next Generation reruns on one of the available channels, so Sören clicked on it with the remote and pulled Anthony towards him, gently rocking him as the familiar voice of Patrick Stewart intoned: "Space. The final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise..."

When the music came on, Sören began singing "dun-dun-dun-dun, dun-dun-dun, da-na-na-na na, na, na, der-ner-ner-ner..." and Anthony shook his head, chuckling.

The current episode was "The Inner Light", and Sören perked up a little at the focus on Picard. "There's my boyfriend," Sören said before he could stop himself.

Anthony's eyebrows shot up and he blinked, posture stiffening. Sören realized then how that came off - he was so tired that he'd lost his brain-to-mouth filter. But now was a good time to test the waters with something that occasionally nagged at Sören... he was committed to Anthony, and he knew Anthony was committed to him, but he wondered if strict monogamy was really the way to go or not, especially with the kind of hours Sören worked. Sören kept the tone lighthearted as he put his feelers out. "Oh, well I mean, we could share him," Sören teased, gently elbowing Anthony. "We could have a threesome with Jean-Luc..."

"Sören." Anthony narrowed his eyes, and between the tone and the expression on his face, the tension in his body, Sören knew he'd crossed a line.

"Sorry," Sören said, his face burning. "It was a joke." It hadn't entirely been a joke, and Sören felt a small pang of disappointment that it seemed to be something Anthony wouldn't consider even in jest. But Sören loved Anthony, and he wasn't going to press the issue. He wrapped his arms around Anthony, rocking him again, and after a moment Anthony's tension relaxed and he kissed Sören's cheek.

The episode was about Picard getting knocked out by an alien probe, and living four decades in the life of one of its citizens, Kamin, who started a family and learned to play the flute. Kamin spent a lot of time outdoors with a Dobsonian telescope and after awhile he observed increased radiation from the sun was causing a drought. The government knew the sun was about to cause extinction but they didn't have the technology to evacuate everyone and they didn't want to cause a mass panic. While Picard was passed out, the crew determined the probe had come from a system whose sun went nova a thousand years ago. Meanwhile, as Picard was still under the probe's influence, Kamin went out to watch the launch of a rocket and his wife and close friend told him the planet's leaders placed memories of their society into a probe and sent it into space, hoping it would find someone who would learn about their species and tell others. Then Picard woke up to find out only twenty-five minutes had passed, and the probe was brought inside and the crew found a box, which Riker gave to Picard, who found a flute upon opening it up. Picard began to play, having learned it through living Kamin's life.

Sören teared up when Kamin's wife and close friend explained the probe to Picard, and the tears spilled during the scene of Picard playing the flute. Anthony was obviously choked up as well. Sören wasn't just moved by the story, but he thought of the dreams he and Anthony shared, that felt so real, about themselves in other bodies, as brother-lovers. And he knew without being told that Anthony was thinking about it too.

When the show was over they sat there in stunned silence for a few minutes, and then Anthony turned to Sören. "Do you think..." Anthony swallowed hard. "Any of... you know."

"The dreams," Sören prompted.

Anthony nodded. "Any of that is real. Not just a dream, but... a memory, of something that actually happened, a long time ago. A world that doesn't exist anymore."

"Well... we haven't found a probe," Sören said. He couldn't resist making the obvious joke, desperately needing levity. "Just probing each other's anuses."

Anthony rolled his eyes, facepalmed, and chuckled. Then he gave Sören a serious, intense look. "Of course there's not a probe. And it doesn't feel like it happened to someone else and they wanted us to preserve their memories. It feels like it happened to us. I know that sounds daft, but..."

"I don't know," Sören said. "I try not to speculate too much because it raises more questions than answers. Questions I'm uncomfortable with because, like..." Sören made a vague hand gesture. "I don't do gods. I don't do religion."

"Well, neither do I," Anthony said. "But this feels like something very different from any explanation that religion could give. It just... haunts me, you know?"

"I know," Sören said, nodding. He had chills down his spine, thinking about what it could possibly be.

"It would be unsettling enough on its own for me to keep having these dreams but the fact that you've had the same dreams, too. Like we shared something."

"I don't know what to tell you," Sören said, shaking his head. He stroked Anthony's cheek. "But if we're experiencing memories of something that we lived through together... we found our way back to each other. That connection is real, and that is my religion. The way I feel about you. Our love is that powerful." Sören took Anthony's hand and kissed it.

Anthony threw his arms around Sören and kissed him deeply. Before they could get too hot and heavy, Sören pulled back - reluctantly - and pointed at the time. "You need a nap," Sören said.

Anthony grumbled, but he followed Sören to bed. Sören tucked him in, got on the other side of him, and pulled Anthony into his arms, holding him and petting him until Anthony fell asleep. Then Sören just watched Anthony sleep, peaceful and lovely in that peace, almost innocent, and wondered if Anthony would dream about them again. He felt strangely protective of Anthony, loving him so fiercely it almost hurt, determined not to lose him again this time, whatever had happened to push them into the here and now. He held Anthony, watching him sleep, noticing every little detail and burning it into his mind's eye, until the alarm woke Anthony up.

Sören saw Anthony off to work, and then his own rest claimed him, deep, dark, and dreamless.








Sören set the alarm to wake up at three in the afternoon. He and Anthony had reservations at the upmarket fusion place in Bromley where they'd had their first date in November 2011, to celebrate Valentine's Day together, but Sören was still exhausted from the long surgery yesterday, his exhaustion amplified by not being able to get rest right away when he came home, not that he could fault Anthony for being wound up during a court battle.

Sören also worried about Anthony, who'd gotten all of an hour of sleep. He didn't want Anthony to try to pretend he was fine for the sake of them going out for Valentine's Day - the point of celebrating was to enjoy an evening, not to be wishing they were anywhere but a crowded restaurant, surrounded by people.

So after Sören had woken up a little with some coffee, and had a shower and brushed his teeth, he sent Anthony a text message. How's it going?

Sören didn't expect a reply right away, not sure when Anthony would be getting a break, but then five minutes later Anthony's text came back: shoot me

Sören couldn't help laughing, but he also genuinely felt bad. Awww elskan.

It'll be over soon enough, I guess. I'll be home by six.

Sören took a deep breath. His fingers flew over the keypad on his phone as he fired off: Don't hate me for suggesting this, but let's not go out tonight. Let's get takeaway and stay home.

A few minutes passed, and Sören felt a flurry of panic, worrying that his suggestion had offended Anthony, but then Anthony replied with Great minds. I was going to ask you the same thing lol.

Less travel time, and more time for Sören used an eggplant emoji.

A minute later Anthony sent back LOL I love you so much.

Sören sent him a heart emoji, and then So what would you like to eat?

You, came Anthony's reply.

Sören's cock stirred, as his mind played delicious fantasies of them taking turns sucking each other's cocks, holding each other as they sixty-nined, rimming each other. God, I want him, Sören thought to himself, wishing Anthony were here right now, craving the taste of him, craving the sweet moans and sighs and the look of bliss on Anthony's face when Sören pleasured him. Sören adjusted himself and typed back Besides that.

I don't know. I'm easy. There was a winking emoji.

Sören giggled. OK slut. Chinese sound good?

Yes, that's perfect. I have to get back to court now.

Sören sighed, missing him. He looked at the clock and decided he would call for Chinese delivery around quarter after five, to time the delivery for the food to arrive around the same time Anthony did.

As exhausted as Sören was, he wanted to do something more. Something special, something to show Anthony he was appreciated and loved.

Sören raided the cupboards, and smiled when he found a lemon cake mix, and an unopened jar of buttercream frosting that was still before the "use by" date. He then opened the freezer to see if there was still a bag of frozen strawberries.

After washing his hands he set to work making a lemon cake, with the bag of frozen strawberries defrosting to go on top of the cake. When the cake went in the oven, Sören did a once-over of the flat, tidying up here and there, and he lingered in the bedroom, thinking of how to set the mood.

Candlelight was always romantic, but with the way they were both stressed out and exhausted, they needed something more. A sense of safety, of peace.

Sören worked on assembling a blanket fort around their bed, and a nest on their bed inside the fort that they could crawl into. He smiled when it was finished, just in time for the timer to go off and the cake to come out of the oven.

He frosted the cake and put on a layer of strawberries, putting the remaining half of the bag back in the freezer. He licked the frosting on the spoon before he did dishes, feeling a flutter of anticipation, wishing six o'clock would get here already.

After Sören called the Chinese place for delivery, it was the hardest part of the wait. Sören tried to zone out to the TV but it had the opposite effect of making him feel more wound up, and he found himself thinking of his conversation with Anthony very late last night, about the dreams they both had, wondering if it was more than just dreams. Sören reached for his tablet and began to draw them as they were in his dreams, himself with black hair to his knees, Anthony with silver-gold hair. Cuddling in a nest of blankets and pillows in a garden space... with a bird perched on Anthony's finger, another on his head, two more birds on a pillow, more birds in a nest near their nest. He got so caught up in sketching that he jumped when he heard his cell phone ring, the delivery driver announcing he was here.

Sören took a deep breath, reflexively brushed himself off - as if he were trailing magic from one world into another - and went outside to meet the driver, paying him, giving a generous tip, and he took the bag upstairs. He dished out the food - egg rolls, pork fried rice, beef with broccoli - and then he brought it to their nest in the bedroom. He carved two pieces of cake and brought it in, then he found the jar of coconut oil, put some in a bowl, added a few drops of vanilla extract, and microwaved it, smiling as the scent of vanilla filled the air. After he brought in the bowl of vanilla-flavored oil, he took off his shirt, lit a few candles and waited on the bed, hungry, and not just for food.

Sören felt restless as he waited, wishing he had brought in the tablet to work some more on the picture of them. At last he heard the keys in the door and Anthony called out, "Sören?"

"Down here," Sören called back.

Anthony came in with a bouquet of roses, a bottle of champagne, and a box of chocolates. He set them down on the dresser, held up his index finger and dashed out, came back with two champagne glasses that he set down, and finally went to Sören's waiting arms, laughing and chuckling as Sören squeezed him. Anthony rocked him, petting Sören's curls, and he kissed the top of Sören's head.

"I missed you," Anthony husked.

Sören looked up at him. Anthony looked tired, and there was sadness in his eyes. "Dare I ask?"

"I think I can get this guy to walk," Anthony said, nodding. "It's just..." He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "It's a war. And it's not over yet. I have court again on Monday."

Sören patted him. "Here, come eat, elskan."

"Let me get my robes off first."

Anthony undressed in front of Sören, with Sören ogling him, admiring his body. Anthony stripped down to boxer-briefs, threw on a grey T-shirt, popped the champagne and poured it, passed the bottle and the glasses to Sören, who gingerly sat them down on the bedtable, and Anthony made his way through the blanket fort, crawling in next to Sören in the nest. Sören shoved a forkful of beef with broccoli in Anthony's mouth.

They took turns feeding each other forkfuls of food, kissing between every few bites, nuzzling, petting. Sören and Anthony ate bites of egg roll from each other's hands and fingers, licking each other's palms, sucking each other's fingers, creating an air of playful sensuality. When it came time for the cake Sören noticed they were both hard, and Sören kissed Anthony with his mouth full of cake, both of them moaning into the kiss.

"You are so sweet, baking me a cake," Anthony said.

"I wanted to do something nice for you," Sören said, petting his hair.

"You always do nice things for me." Anthony kissed Sören's forehead, and they rubbed noses before Anthony stole another kiss. "You've been running yourself ragged, too -"

Sören waved his hand dismissively. "It makes me happy to make you happy, elskan."

"Well, it makes me happy to make you happy, too." Anthony kissed him again. "Honestly, even though it's sad that we're both too exhausted to go anywhere, this is much nicer than going out."

"I agree," Sören said, nodding. "We can be disgusting here, not so much in public." He fed Anthony a forkful of cake and then kissed him, sharing the cake between them as their tongues played, teased.

"Mmhmm. I can't do things like this at a restaurant." Anthony let a forkful of cake drop onto Sören's bare chest and then he ate it off Sören's body, licking Sören's skin clean, tongue "accidentally" brushing a nipple, making Sören gasp and shiver. "Or this." Anthony spilled some champagne from his glass over Sören's nipple and lapped it before suckling the nipple into his mouth. Sören bucked, moaning, cock throbbing.

Anthony began to kiss and lick his way up Sören's neck, and sucked on Sören's lower lip before claiming his mouth again, hungry and fierce. Sören moaned, pressing against Anthony so their hard cocks were rubbing together through their briefs. Anthony groaned, breathing a soft sigh before he kissed along Sören's jaw, nuzzling and licking Sören's beard as Sören giggled happily, rubbing Anthony's head, massaging his scalp.

"We could make this a yearly tradition," Sören said, feeding him another forkful of cake before they got too carried away.

"We could." Anthony kissed him again. "We should."

"Mhm." Sören accepted a bite of cake from Anthony, and kissed him with it, strawberries melting in their mouths. "Even when we're old."

"Yes." Their eyes met. "I want you to grow old with me, Sören."

Sören's heart soared, and his eyes misted. He stroked Anthony's face and kissed him, more gently. "I want us to grow old together, too. Of course..." Sören chuckled. "We'll be defying our ages, still shagging each other senseless when we're old men."

"Dirty old men." Anthony grinned.

They finished the cake, had another glass of champagne, and put their dishes off to the side. Sören pulled Anthony close and for a few minutes they just held each other, rocking together.

"This is nice," Anthony said.

"I love holding you, elskan." Sören smiled, then pouted. "I missed having you next to me while I got some sleep."

"Oh, sweetheart." They nuzzled, and kissed. "I missed you all day at court. I could not wait to get home to you."

"You're here now." Sören kissed the tip of Anthony's nose. "And now I'm going to take care of you."

Anthony stroked Sören's face, his curls, ran his thumb along Sören's beard, traced Sören's lower lip, looking into his eyes. "I want to take care of you, too."

"Well..." Sören sat up, and began to pull down his boxer-briefs, freeing his hard cock. "Let's get naked."

Anthony laughed and peeled off his T-shirt, and Sören ran his hands over Anthony's chest as Anthony took off his underwear. When Anthony's own cock was out, Sören took them both into his fist, stroking slowly, kissing Anthony again and again, with Anthony looking up at him with such love in his eyes that it took Sören's breath away, made him ache.

Yes, I want to marry this man.

Sören reached for the bowl of melted coconut oil. "Turn around and let me rub your back, elskan." Sören oiled his hands and rubbed them together.

Anthony rolled onto his stomach and groaned deeply as Sören began to knead his shoulders, working out the knots. Every now and again Sören kissed the back of Anthony's neck or his shoulder, making Anthony moan and buck up against Sören, whose hard cock rubbed in the crack of Anthony's ass. Sören's hands slid and pressed firmly into Anthony's back, rubbing, kneading, and then his touch was lighter, caressing, kissing here, licking there. He worked his way down, feeling how much tension Anthony had been carrying, smiling as it melted away underneath his hands. When Sören got to Anthony's lower back, which was as tense and knotty as Anthony's shoulders and upper back, Sören started to kiss and lick down Anthony's spine, enjoying the taste of the vanilla-flavored oil combined with the natural musk of Anthony's skin, enjoying Anthony's moans and shivers even more. Sören's hands brushed up Anthony's back, stroking in low, lazy circles, and Sören kissed back up Anthony's spine, then back down as his fingers and palms played over him, sensually, until he was caressing the firm globes of Anthony's ass in circles.

Sören oiled his hands again and kneaded Anthony's ass, and then his thighs and calves, caressing with slow circles before pressing harder and kneading some more. Sören let his hard cock rub against the back of one of Anthony's thighs and then against his leg, so Anthony could feel how much Sören wanted him, and Sören bit his lower lip, cock throbbing, as Anthony groaned in response, fisting the sheets.

Anthony rolled onto his back and Sören poured oil over his chest, and worked it in, hands rubbing up and down, firm and deep, then light, teasing. Sören kneaded his shoulders from the front, and worked the tension out of one bicep and tricep and forearm, then the other, before rubbing Anthony's chest again, leaning down to kiss and lick a nipple as his hands played over Anthony's stomach. Anthony moaned, arching to him, and Sören rubbed his cock against Anthony's thigh as he turned to lap and suckle the other nipple, fingers and palms continuing to stroke Anthony's stomach in circles and swirls. Sören went back and forth between Anthony's nipples, licking, sucking, nibbling, tugging them with his teeth, and Sören was moaning now too as Anthony's hands slid over Sören's back, walked up his spine, cupped and rubbed his ass.

Sören kissed and licked Anthony's stomach, hands rubbing Anthony's thighs and knees. Anthony pulled Sören's curls, moaning, urging him lower, to his dripping cock, which looked delicious. But Sören wasn't giving in just yet, kissing and licking and nibbling one thigh as his fingers played over the other, then switching, reveling in the sound of Anthony's moans and the way his breath hitched, panting, gasping.

Sören paused over Anthony's cock, their eyes locked, and Sören took a few licks at the slit, slow, teasing.

"Oh, Sören." Anthony moaned and his eyes fluttered, completely lost in pleasure.

Sören still wasn't quite ready to give in. He rose up, poured more oil over Anthony's chest and stomach, letting it drip down him, and his hands worked over and over him in circles, smiling as Anthony moaned with combined bliss and frustration, pleading with his eyes when they weren't rolling, half-closed as he moaned and sighed.

"You are such a fucking tease," Anthony rasped.

"Hmmm? What's that?" Sören leaned down and licked from Anthony's nipple in a diagonal path down his chest and stomach, to his navel, giggling as Anthony growled.

Sören nibbled Anthony's navel and kissed down the seam of his crotch, kissing and licking all over one thigh, then the other, Anthony's moans louder and louder. At last Sören began licking Anthony's cock again, long, deliberate, slow licks, grinding against Anthony's leg harder as Anthony panted and gasped. When Sören took Anthony's cock in his mouth, slowly, inch by inch, Anthony groaned when it was all the way in Sören's mouth, and the heat in those green eyes set Sören's cock throbbing, fighting off the urge to just take him.

Sören sucked slowly, Anthony's fingers in his hair, then pulling on his curls, Anthony moaning, panting. When Sören sucked harder, faster, bobbing his head, Anthony's cries rose and Sören's cock twinged, wanting him. Sören started rubbing his tongue as he sucked, reaching down to stroke himself as Anthony swore and grabbed his curls. Sören sucked hungrily, watching Anthony undone more and more until Anthony was trembling, making shuddery little gasps, looking almost in pain from his need. Then Sören took Anthony's cock out and licked it, teasing him, smiling wickedly as Anthony growled and swore with frustration. Sören relented just a little, sucking on the head of Anthony's cock, swirling his tongue as he sucked, kissing it, hand sliding up and down the shaft. He teased Anthony like that until Anthony was on that edge again, rocking his hips, gasping, "Sören. Sören. Oh god. Sören, dammit, please..."

"Mmmmmm." Sören pulled the head of Anthony's cock out of his mouth and his tongue lashed the slit.

"You. Fucking. Tease." Anthony grit his teeth, his eyes wild with need.

Sören smiled and licked more slowly, licking and licking before putting the cock back in his mouth and going to work, sucking like his life depended on it. Anthony grabbed Sören's head and gently thrust into his mouth, and Sören reached to cup and rub his balls, feeling them tighten, tasting more precum, knowing Anthony was about to explode. "Mmmmmmm," Sören hummed, encouraging him. "Mmmmhmmmmm. Mmmmmm..."

There was a moment that felt like an eternity, the tension rising and coiling in Anthony again, and then he shattered, throwing his head back and crying out, then gasping, shuddery sighs as he spent into Sören's mouth. Sören swallowed it greedily, savoring the salty sweetness of him, and licked Anthony clean, smiling as his tongue gave Anthony aftershocks.

Then he came up to kiss Anthony, idly stroking himself. After the kiss Anthony lay there dazed for a few minutes, completely lost in bliss, till he felt Sören touching himself and then Anthony's hand was on Sören's hand, guiding his strokes. "I can help with that, you know," Anthony whispered, nuzzling Sören's beard before kissing his neck.

"Can you now."

"I did tell you that I want to take care of you." Anthony kissed Sören, tongue insistent, and Sören groaned into the kiss, cock pulsing.

Anthony rolled Sören onto his stomach and Sören sighed with contentment as he felt oil pour onto his back. Then Anthony's hands were on him, his touch light at first, caressing with slow, languid strokes up and down his back, before pressing harder, kneading. Sören sighed, flexing his fingers and toes as the tension drained out of him, Anthony finding the knots and rubbing them away. Sören closed his eyes with bliss and in his mind's eye, the vision played of himself in the body of the beautiful man with knee-length black hair, laying on his stomach just like this, as his blond brother-lover knelt atop him the way Anthony was kneeling on him now, cock rubbing in the crack of his ass, and he could see light, feeling like the blond brother-lover was doing some kind of magic, almost as if his hands had distilled the light of the Sun and it was resparking the flame within him, guttering low.

"There," Anthony husked as his hands continued kneading Sören's back, soothing, arousing. "Does my brother like that?"

"Oh god." Sören gave a wordless groan and flexed his fingers and toes again, making a little swimming motion involuntarily. Anthony chuckled, grinding Sören's ass some more before giving it a playful swat.

"I remember when I used to do this for you," Anthony whispered, as if he knew exactly what Sören was seeing. He leaned in and his fingers traced the tattoos on Sören's back, first the firebird, then the waterbird, and then his tongue traced the lines of ink, making Sören groan. Kisses here and there, passionate and yet also almost reverent. Anthony nibbled, then soothed with his tongue. "I love you, my spirit of fire."

"I love you, litli bróðir minn."

Anthony began kissing Sören's neck then, kissing and licking his nape, the sweet spot where the neck and shoulder met. Anthony kissed and licked down Sören's spine as he massaged Sören's ass, making Sören moan and grind himself against the mattress, wanting Anthony so badly it almost hurt. Anthony slid slower as his kisses approached Sören's lower back, and then he nuzzled and kissed the curve of Sören's butt, rubbing, caressing. He kissed, licked and nibbled the backs of Sören's thighs, hands stroking and stroking, and then his tongue was in the crack of Sören's ass. Sören cried out as he felt Anthony's tongue plunge inside, and moaned as Anthony's tongue licked slowly, moaning louder as he licked faster.

"I told you I wanted to eat you," Anthony rasped before his tongue dipped inside again, lashing fast and furious, devouring. Sören screamed and howled, hips rocking back, fucking himself on Anthony's tongue, who groaned and grabbed Sören's hips, tongue lashing even harder, like he was starving for it. Sören fisted the pillows, sobbed, writhed, as Anthony's tongue pleasured the sweet spot inside him and took the pleasure higher and higher, all of the tension that had drained out of him building in his balls, ready to explode.

Anthony kept him on that edge, growling as his tongue fucked and teased. Sören heard himself whimpering, keening, felt himself biting his hand, biting the pillow, desperate for release yet never wanting Anthony to stop the wicked magic of his tongue. At last Anthony relented, pulling back, and he resumed kissing the back of Sören's thighs as his hands rubbed and kneaded Sören's calves, unexpectedly sore from how much standing he did every day. Anthony groaned as he felt the tension in Sören's legs. "God damn," he said.

"God damn is right." Sören chuckled. Then Sören glared over his shoulder. "Also, you're the fucking tease now."

Anthony grinned. "You deserve it."

"Arse."

Anthony kissed Sören's butt cheek, making Sören giggle, and Anthony laughed too before slapping it, then rubbing it slowly, sensually, making Sören moan. "I love you."

"I love you. Arse."

"Roll over and I'll show you just how much of an arse I can be."

Sören rolled onto his back and braced himself. He sighed as Anthony poured the last of the oil over his chest and stomach, and sighed again as Anthony began to work the oil over Sören's torso and arms. Sören moaned as Anthony rubbed his shoulders, then kneaded the tension out of one of Sören's arms, then the other. "God, you're tense there too," Anthony said, giving Sören a sympathetic look.

Sören nodded. "Makes sense, with how much surgery I perform."

Anthony rubbed Sören's chest, alternating between hard and firm, and soft and teasing, making Sören break out into gooseflesh, his nipples hardening. Anthony leaned down to lick a nipple, Sören arching to him, grabbing Anthony's shoulders and moaning. When Anthony suckled, Sören almost came right then, his cock jolting, letting out a spurt of precum. Anthony reached down for Sören's cock and slowly played with it, knowingly, before he turned his attention to the other nipple, lapping, sucking hard. He went back and forth, back and forth, fingers and thumb playing with one as his mouth worshiped the other, all the while stroking Sören's cock, getting Sören more and more worked up.

Sören made a whine of protest when Anthony turned his focus elsewhere, rubbing Sören's stomach. But then it felt too good for Sören to protest much, moaning, panting as Anthony rubbed Sören's stomach and kissed it. "You are so beautiful." Anthony nuzzled Sören's stomach, making a line to his hip bone, kissing there too, smiling at how sensitive Sören was, the little shudder and gasp he made. "Mmmmm." Anthony's teeth nipped there, before he licked and kissed it again.

Anthony rubbed the front of Sören's thighs, and rubbed his calves some more, kissing and licking the seam of Sören's crotch, nuzzling the thatch of black curls framing his cock but not going there with Sören's cock, not yet. Finally Sören's cock was dripping a steady stream of precum and Anthony sighed. "That looks too delicious to go to waste." He leaned in and started licking the head of Sören's cock, making Sören cry out.

He licked and licked and licked Sören's cock, like he was licking an ice cream cone, driving Sören mad. Sören heard himself make inhuman noises, grabbing Anthony's head, trying to beg for Anthony to suck him and he couldn't even make words. When Anthony did, at last, take Sören into his mouth, Sören made a deep, shivery gasp, eyes rolling back.

"Anthony..."

"Mmmmm." Anthony sucked him slowly, slowly, their eyes locked. After a minute he took Sören's cock out of his mouth and started licking it again.

"Dammit..."

"I did warn you." Anthony gave him a smug, "I own you" smile before licking Sören's cock some more, from head to shaft and back up, laving the head as Sören whined, desperately needing.

The sweet, slow torment of Anthony's tongue kept Sören on that edge until he was almost sobbing. When Anthony took Sören's cock back in his mouth and began to suck in earnest, Sören again almost sobbed, this time with relief. And exquisite pleasure. Anthony's mouth was so good, and Anthony knew how well he was pleasing Sören, mischief in his eyes as he watched Sören fall apart.

It wasn't long before Sören was thrusting into Anthony's mouth, panting, whimpering, thrashing back and forth, and Anthony sucked harder, faster. He began to work slick fingers in and out of Sören's passage, and the delicious friction around his cock and inside him built the pleasure higher and higher until Sören flew off the edge, soaring, burning, screaming as he flooded Anthony's mouth.

Anthony swallowed, licked him clean, and came up to kiss him. Sören moaned at the taste of himself on Anthony's mouth and moaned again as he felt Anthony's hard cock grinding against his thigh. Sören hardened up again, cock throbbing as Anthony kissed and nibbled his neck. "I am so fucking horny for you," Anthony rasped, before licking Sören's neck.

Sören grinned. "Hi So Fucking Horny For You, I'm -"

Anthony pinched Sören's nipple, hard, and Sören cried out before he could finish the sentence. Now it was Anthony's turn to grin. He lowered his head and brushed the nipple with his tongue, a few slow strokes before lapping it, making Sören clutch his head and arch to him, moaning. "Oh god." Sören bit his lower lip and whined. "Anthony..."

Anthony tugged the nipple ring with his teeth and lapped Sören's nipple some more, suckling. He turned his head to lick and suck the other, his hand straying to play with Sören's cock. Then he kissed Sören's mouth roughly, and reached over to their bedtable for the lube. He scooted up to straddle Sören's hips and leaned over him to continue kissing him as he poured lube over Sören's cock. Sören stroked himself, working in the lube, and their eyes met between kisses - the look of lust on Anthony's face made Sören grab him and kiss him harder, then he reached for his cock and began to guide the tip to Anthony's passage.

Anthony rode him, and the sight of Anthony bouncing on his cock, the fluid grace of his lithe, trim body and the passion on his face threatened to undo Sören right away. Sören grabbed Anthony's hips, thrusting into him, grunting and growling, losing himself in the sweetness of Anthony wrapped around him, and the delicious moans Anthony made as the ring in the head of Sören's cock teased him.

"You are so fucking hot, elskan," Sören ground out, running his hands over Anthony's chest, stomach, hips and thighs, and back up. "You are a work of art."

"So are you." Anthony leaned down and kissed Sören again, and Sören wrapped his arms around him, caught up in the fever of passion, kissing him hard and hungry before thrusting into him even harder, faster.

Anthony rose up again and rode Sören for all he was worth, and Sören reached to stroke Anthony's cock in time with their thrusts. When Anthony was ready to shoot, gasping, that needy look in his eye, Sören aimed Anthony's cock and moaned as Anthony shot all over him, opening his mouth to get some of the sweet cream on his tongue, moaning as he got a facial, which set him off too, coming and coming. Anthony sank down onto Sören's chest and Sören held him tight as they kissed, and Sören giggled as Anthony licked the cum off his face, moaned as Anthony kissed him with it on his tongue.

"I love you," Anthony whispered, and smiled as Sören pulled him close, kissed his brow, smoothed his hair and began rocking him.

They lay there for a few minutes just cuddling, and Sören slipped out of him. They rolled onto their sides, facing each other, and rubbed noses, kissing sweetly then more passionately and insistently, until they were both hard again and rubbing their cocks together, running their hands over each other.

"Your turn," Anthony said, kissing Sören's neck and shoulder.

"How do you want it, elskan?"

"I want to watch you ride me." Anthony nipped Sören's lower lip.

Sören didn't need his arm twisted. After Sören lubed up Anthony's cock he straddled him and pushed down around him, sighing when Anthony was buried in him to the hilt. Sören rode slowly at first, teasing both of them, then after a few minutes Anthony slapped his ass, rocking into him, and Sören gave a cheeky grin as he rode harder, faster. Soon enough Sören was bucking madly, riding him like a wild bull, white-knuckled as he held onto Anthony for dear life, the delicious rubbing inside him driving him out of his mind with pleasure. When Anthony began to play with Sören's nipple rings Sören heard himself making inhuman noises, taking charge of the rhythm, bouncing so feverishly he started to drip sweat. Anthony's groans and the slap of their flesh drove Sören mad with lust, and he couldn't help but reach down and caress his lover's body, reveling in the power of his touch, the way Anthony moaned and sighed at the feel of Sören's hands. At last Anthony leaned up and pulled Sören towards him, into a deep, hungry, fierce kiss, stroking his cock furiously, and Sören lost control, coming with a cry. A few seconds later Anthony growled into the kiss, trembling, and Sören felt Anthony shooting inside him. The kiss pulled apart and they looked into each other's eyes, and Anthony stroked Sören's face, giving a shuddery sigh before he grabbed Sören and kissed him again, harder, both of them moaning as the orgasm throbbed on.

Sören collapsed onto Anthony's chest, panting, and then he erupted into a gigglefit, euphoria bubbling through him. Anthony gave him that radiant, dazzling smile that took Sören's breath away, and kissed him again, soft and sweet. "You're so adorable," Anthony said, tousling his curls.

"So are you." Sören kissed the tip of his nose.

Anthony gave him a mock stern look, and then he smiled again and his arms tightened around Sören, rocking him.

They snuggled some more, and then they pet each other, making eye contact, and Sören found himself getting aroused yet again. Anthony laughed when he felt Sören's hard cock. "You are insatiable," Anthony said, stroking Sören's cock.

"You make me insatiable." Sören nibbled his shoulder. "I can't help wanting you, elskan."

"Mmmm, it's like you're in heat." Then Anthony patted Sören's ass and said, "If you're going to act like you're in heat, you're going to get fucked like a bitch in heat. Get down on all fours for me."

Sören moaned and did as he was told, hole twitching, wanting to be filled again. As Anthony got on his knees behind him, Sören playfully wiggled his ass, and groaned when Anthony slapped his ass, before rubbing it.

Sören cried out when Anthony was all the way inside him. He cried out again when Anthony began to thrust, hard and fast, grabbing his hair. Sören moaned as Anthony slapped his ass again, and rocked back at him, matching his rhythm.

"Oh god, yes," Sören panted. "Take it, take me, fucking take it like you own it..."

"I do own it." Anthony slapped Sören's ass again. "You were made for me... brother."

Sören throbbed, moaning, rocking against him even harder. "Bróðir minn... bróðir minn..."

Anthony grabbed Sören's hips and fucked harder, slamming into him, his balls slapping against Sören's from behind. Sören screamed and sobbed, fisting the pillows, Anthony's cock hitting that sweet spot inside him just right, making him needy, urgent to come, and yet never wanting to stop, wanting to feel that delicious rubbing forever...

...that feeling of being taken, fucked, claimed. Being his. Sören shuddered. He didn't know why they had the dreams they had, what was going on, but it just felt right that they were together again, like there was nothing that could keep them apart from each other. "Bróðir minn," Sören moaned, like a mantra, like a prayer, like a spell, weaving their bond unbreakable. "Bróðir minn. Bróðir minn. Bróðir minn!"

"Oh, Sören." Sören could feel Anthony tremble against him, and Anthony grabbed his hips so tight it almost hurt. "Sören. My brother. I need you."

"I need you," Sören husked, choking up. "I need you. I need this."

Anthony pounded him and Sören let out a wail, biting the pillows as the pleasure rose to new heights, the fever in him searing. Soon Sören was trembling too, quivering, the fuck so good it almost hurt, his body needing release but continuing to hold out, wanting to get fucked and fucked and fucked. Sören heard Anthony get more vocal and knew he was getting close to losing it, and finally Anthony couldn't hold back anymore, grabbing Sören's curls as he growled, "Sören. Come for me." Then he slapped Sören's ass and Sören came, howling, gratified by the cry Anthony gave as he spent into him before falling on top of Sören's back, kissing the back of Sören's neck as he shuddered against him, spending.

That orgasm was powerful enough that Sören felt himself dozing off, and at some point he became aware of Anthony slipping out of him and rolling him so Sören could curl up against his chest, in his arms. Sören smiled and murmured incoherently before he fell asleep again.

Then he woke some time later to a cool emptiness in the bed. He heard the sink running in the kitchen and he opened his eyes to see the candles were out and the dishes on the bedtable had been cleared off. Sören closed his eyes again and was just starting to drift back to sleep when he felt Anthony crawl in next to him, Anthony's arms around him again, and Anthony gave him a little kiss. Sören smiled at the minty taste of his toothpaste.

"You did dishes?" Sören mumbled.

"Yeah. And the rest of the champagne is in the fridge." Anthony rubbed Sören's head. "I'm sorry for waking you up -"

"No, it's OK." Sören blinked his eyes open and smiled at the emerald eyes looking into his. "I just know you didn't get a lot of sleep last night..."

"Well, I got a couple hours after our big finish, then I woke up and had to go to the bathroom so I figured while I was up..." Anthony patted him. "I am bloody exhausted, though. I think I'm going to call out of work tomorrow, since I don't have court again until Monday."

"Wow, really?" Anthony never did that. "That'll be nice. I don't go in till Friday evening, so we'll get almost a full day together."

"Mmmm." Anthony kissed Sören's brow and pet his curls. "Might make that a yearly tradition, too. Take the day after Valentine's off so that way we can be up late shagging."

Sören gigglesnorted. "I love you, you know."

"I know." Anthony kissed the tip of Sören's nose. "I love you too." Anthony squeezed him and rocked him a little. "Also, Sören?"

"Hm?"

"Your tablet was on the coffee table and I hope you don't mind, but my curiosity got the better of me and I looked at what you were working on." Their eyes met. "It's beautiful."

"Oh." Sören was strangely touched by that, that Anthony was interested in his art so much. "Takk. You really think so?"

"I do." Anthony sighed. "I remember back then I... had a bird menagerie. Sometimes I think it would be nice to have a bird, or two, but with the kind of hours we work..."

"Yeah." Sören gave a deep, regretful sigh, aching for the sacrifices they had both made, all the little things they were missing out on. "A couple birds would be nice."

"A couple birds, a couple cats, maybe a dog. And some fish. But." Anthony frowned. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be a downer."

"No, it's OK, elskan." Sören patted him.

He tried to get back to sleep after that but then he felt a disturbance, and he opened his eyes to see Anthony lying awake, still frowning. "You're still thinking about stuff we can't have, huh?" Sören asked.

Anthony just nodded.

"Here." Sören knew he needed a distraction. Sören got out of bed and made his way to the living room. He came back with his tablet and flipped on the light. He got back in bed with Anthony and held the tablet between them so they could both look at it. They revisited the sketch Sören would be turning into a painting, of them as their dream-selves in a blanket and pillow nest in a garden, accompanied by birds.

Then Sören showed Anthony some of the finished paintings he hadn't shown off yet - the two of them naked, making love, looking at each other with tenderness and worship. Anthony's breath hitched and his eyes widened. He turned beetroot but then he grinned, eyes gleaming wickedly.

"Wow. I never thought I'd be the subject of..." Anthony chuckled. "Wow."

"What we have is beautiful," Sören said, stroking his face, "and I wanted to pay tribute."

"You certainly did." Anthony took Sören's hand and kissed it. "I am deeply, deeply honored." Then he glanced at the painting where Sören was inside him, and snorted. "And I mean deeply."

Sören giggled, his face on fire now too.

Anthony leaned back, reclining against the pile of pillows, and he stroked his chin for a moment, then he gave Sören a pointed look. "Sören. My mum has connections in the art world. You really ought to talk to her about getting you a show at a gallery somewhere. Really. Show her some of your work." Then Anthony facepalmed, shaking with silent laughter. "Not these, obviously."

"Oh god." Sören wheezed, doubling over. "NO, OBVIOUSLY NOT THOSE."

"But..." Anthony thumbed through Sören's gallery. "Maybe this weekend, we can go to get prints of everything and then on Sunday we can take them to Mum and..."

Sören took a deep breath, feeling shy and nervous.

Anthony noticed his reaction. He put a reassuring hand on Sören's shoulder. "I don't mean to make you uncomfortable. I'm not trying to force you. It's just that you're damned good. You have a gift, and I feel like it should be shared with the world..."

Sören got choked up again, hearing the sincere praise in Anthony's words, the pride that Anthony felt in Sören's art. Sören remembered Einar's cruelty, ripping up his sketches, mocking him. Anthony's attitude towards his art was like a balm for that wound, and Sören saw it now - this would, if nothing else, give him a sense of closure. Even if it was the only show he ever did, it would be a tangible reminder that Einar's words were lies.

"OK," Sören said simply.

"...OK? You mean, you'll talk to Mum on Sunday about..."

Sören nodded. "You think she can really get me a show someplace?"

"She can probably put you in touch with the right people. Maybe invoke an outstanding favor or two, but honestly I don't think it'll take that for someone to want to show your work. It's brilliant."

Sören kissed him. "You're brilliant for being so encouraging. Really."

"Your art isn't just lovely in and of itself, but you're lovely when you're making it. You come alive." Anthony stroked Sören's face. "It's like you're on fire, when I've seen you draw or paint."

"Well, this fire wants to get you warm." Sören put the tablet down and wrapped himself around Anthony. "You need more sleep."

Anthony made noises of mock protest and Sören rained kisses over his face until he quieted down. Then Sören turned off the light and they rocked together, legs entwined, until they fell back asleep.







They are in the garden at Anthony's palace again, with Anthony lovingly watering the plants. He waves his hand over each one and Sören watches as the plant is encased in a bubble of gold light, and then gold shimmers in the veins of the plant as the bubble fades. Anthony has a serene smile on his face, strands of silver-gold hair stirring in the breeze.

"You say I come alive in the forge. This is where you come alive, my brother. Here in the green."

They want to be married, but the laws forbid them, not just because they are brothers, but because they are two men. Sören has been working in the forge on a ring, in secret, and here and now, Sören pulls the ring from his pocket to show him.

Anthony smiles at the golden flowers, the snakes like the ones that visit his garden, and the brilliant emerald.

"An emerald because of all of this," Sören says, gesturing to the garden. "Because of the way the plants thrive in your care. Your power." Sören places a hand on his heart. "Your life."

"It's perfect." Anthony takes it. "You're perfect." He throws his arms around Sören and kisses him, and as the kiss deepens, heats, Anthony pulls him down into the grass to love with him right there.

Time flashes forward, into their present bodies, and Sören sees the green of Anthony's eyes, like the stone set on the ring.








Sören woke up to feeling something soft brushing over his cheeks, his nose, and at last his lips. He smelled a fresh rose, and he woke up to see Anthony was on the bed, naked, with a long-stemmed red rose from yesterday's bouquet in his hand. Sören grinned at him, and giggled as Anthony rubbed his nose with the rose again. Then he sighed as Anthony trailed the rose down Sören's neck, a soft caress, and Sören moaned as the rose petals brushed one nipple, then the other.

Sören glanced over at the clock. It was just after eleven AM; Sören was going into work at seven PM.

"Here," Anthony said, handing Sören a glass of champagne. "Good morning."

"We're drinking champagne for breakfast?" Sören laughed as he took a sip.

"And eating chocolates." Anthony opened the box of chocolates and held one to Sören's lips. Sören bit off half and Anthony put the other half in his mouth, and then came closer for a kiss.

"How did you sleep?" Sören asked, taking a chocolate from the box and feeding Anthony.

"Well," Anthony said, nodding. "Shagging to exhaustion certainly helped." Then he gestured to the blanket fort around the bed, still standing. "I think this did, too. A very safe, cozy feeling."

"That was what I was hoping for." Sören nibbled on a chocolate and he stroked his beard, considering. "You know, you have a four-poster bed. Maybe we could get one of those canopy curtain things, which would be like a more elegant blanket fort..."

Anthony grinned. "I like that idea."

"Good." Sören kissed him. Then he realized in the over-a-year that he'd been living with Anthony it was the first time he'd suggested some sort of change to the decor.

They ate a few more chocolates, sipped champagne, and then just kissed, holding each other, hard cocks rubbing together.

"I could get used to this," Anthony said.

"Me too." Sören frowned. "I wish I didn't have to go in later."

"I know. Let's just... enjoy the time we have." Anthony kissed him. "I want to spend all day in bed with you."

Sören kissed him back. "And I... want to spend a lifetime in bed with you."

Their eyes met, and Anthony kissed him hard and deep, cock grinding against his more insistently.

They made slow, sweet, languid love, cock rubbing cock, kissing, caressing. Lost in a dreamy haze of sensuality, and the powerful feeling of love, connectedness, Sören felt at peace. But, as his mind wondered what had happened before, why they were here now, why they had to find each other all over again, Sören wondered if it was the calm before the storm, if history was doomed to repeat itself...

chapter 33 | return to Learning To Fly | return to Other Tolkien Fic | return to index