"Brown Eyes."
Anthony rose from the table in the hospital cafe and held out his arms. As tired as Sören was, he rushed right over, and Anthony stepped forward a few paces, grabbing Sören as soon as he was near and pulling him close, holding him tight. Sören almost sobbed with relief at the feel of Anthony's arms around him, the fortress of his chest, the feel of his heartbeat underneath the Brooks Brothers suit, the breath against his curls.
"Oh, darling." Anthony squeezed Sören and rocked him. "I miss you. I've missed you so much."
Sören swallowed hard, a tight lump in his throat, a tight ache in his chest. It was seven AM now - Anthony had stopped in on his way to chambers - and Sören had been here since seven PM last night. His shift wasn't over yet, he'd performed trauma surgery last night and was performing a tumor excision this morning after his break. He was exhausted and desperately wanted to go home and rest, but of course that wasn't happening yet. Anthony had coffee ready for him, and as soon as they pulled apart - reluctantly - Sören sat down and began gulping it.
"Love, you look worn out," Anthony said.
"I feel worn out." Sören nodded solemnly and drained his coffee. "I feel burnt out." It was October ninth now. He'd been working a hundred hours a week for just over two months. There was still no word on when the National would be getting a replacement for Singh - or if. Sören didn't think he was going to get any considerable time off until their planned honeymoon in November, and even a week didn't feel like a long enough break. Sören thought about their weekend in Brighton last month and he hoped, bitterly, that he wouldn't sleep their entire honeymoon away.
Sören felt a twinge of guilt - he was always so negative lately, and he worried about how it was affecting Anthony, even though Anthony wasn't falling apart in the way that he was. "How are you?" Sören asked.
Anthony nodded. "Not too bad. There's a fraud case I'm being asked to consult on in a couple of weeks and..." Anthony made a face and pinched the bridge of his nose, then took a sip of his coffee. "Sometimes I really regret getting into this profession. Too many sleazy people in the world."
"I know. But you fight for the innocent. You told me that when we first met."
"Yeah. I know. Just like you fight to save lives."
Sören grimaced. Right now I wish the life I was saving was my own. "We have to keep reminding each other of that, I think."
Anthony reached out, took Sören's hands across the table, and squeezed. "You get it. You know what it's like to have a calling, even when it makes you question your own sanity." He kissed Sören's hands.
It had been that sense of purpose, that sense of destiny, that in the world of Sören's dreams had ultimately been responsible for destroying his relationship with Anthony back then, necessitating their parting of ways - and then his other brother-lover, who he thought hated him as he rode to his death. Sören had been a revolutionary then, fighting to overthrow a tyrant and those who made the tyrant what he was... he had looked into the abyss and the abyss had looked back into him, as he became angrier and angrier. Now Sören was fighting against death itself, and it seemed the harder he fought, the more life was being drained out of him. The more his fire, that had kept him going through the darkest nights of his soul, was close to going out.
He would not lose Anthony again. And he would not fall apart, would not break down and cry, when his day wasn't done yet. "You want to go for a walk? Get some air?"
Anthony and Sören went to Queen's Square. It was overcast with a chance of rain later in the day, and Sören could smell the petrichor in the air. Growing up in Akureyri, where it rained so often, Sören loved the smell of petrichor, one of his favorite scents. Sören breathed it in now, letting it soothe him, and the beauty of the silver light as they walked around the garden, hand-in-hand. They sat on the steps of St. George's Cathedral and leaned on each other, watching two ravens peck around a few meters away. Every now and again one of the ravens would look up and look at them and just stare for a few seconds before going back to what it was doing, and Sören broke out into gooseflesh. If he were not a doctor, a rational, skeptical person by nature, he would think the ravens were watching them for some reason, but that felt ridiculous.
It was nice to just be in these moments, no need for words, just resting together in the beauty of their surroundings. It was one of the things Sören liked about his relationship with Anthony. Anthony got that need for quiet and for being out someplace pretty. Sören wished they did it more often - he once again felt a sting of bitterness that the disastrous picnic with Trisha and Vincente hadn't been their first time, or only time, having a picnic. He was hoping that when relief finally came and he was back to less crazy hours, he and Anthony could do things like that on their own. And he realized he was being negative again, and wished he didn't have bitterness creep in every time he took a moment to breathe.
When it was time for Sören to go back to work, he and Anthony lingered in the lobby, holding each other tight, not wanting to let go. Sören almost cried when he finally stepped away, aching, wishing they could keep holding each other. And as nice as the visit was, seeing Anthony for an hour - being in Anthony's arms - was somehow worse than not seeing him at all. It made him ache for what he was missing, a sharp reminder of how little they'd been able to see each other since this madness started.
Sören tried to pull himself together as he scrubbed in, letting the water ground him, taking deep breaths, getting in "the zone". But as he stepped back into the operating theatre, there was a lingering sadness, a haunted feeling he couldn't shake.
Sören was used to having rock music playing when he did surgery, and now as he performed the tumor extraction it was necessary - his episodes of microsleeping terrified him, and he didn't want to have an episode while he had a patient on the operating table, even though he'd fallen asleep to rock music on the train once and he hadn't fallen asleep during surgery yet. Sören put on the playlist that was as hard as he could get away with, which had a lot of Metallica as well as music from the grunge era. He thought of Anthony again as one particular song played, by Alice In Chains.
Into the flood again
Same old trip it was back then
So I made a big mistake
Try to see it once my way
Am I wrong?
Have I run too far to get home?
Have I gone?
And left you here alone?
"You OK, mate?" Colin looked across at him, eyes concerned above the mask.
Sören nodded. "I'm OK." Not really.
Colin raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything further about his concern.
Sören got through the surgery with no problems, and as he scrubbed out he took a moment to be grateful that it had gone well. But where he used to have a warm glow of pride at another successful job, and a moment of hope for the patient's recovery - almost like a prayer - there was the return of bitterness. He was resenting his job, almost wishing he hadn't gone into this line of work, and for the dozenth or so time he thought about marching down to Ed's office and telling Ed he needed fewer hours, even though he knew that would cost him and quite possibly kill his career.
Sören splashed some water on his face and sighed deeply, rocking back on his heels, slumping his shoulders.
He didn't go to Ed - he knew he wouldn't go to Ed, however many times he thought about it - and it was time for him to go home, anyway, now a little after one PM. He walked to the train station, feeling more and more drained with each step. The overground was coming before the subway, and once Sören took his seat he put in his earbuds and turned up the music full blast. Nine Inch Nails was on his playlist, and "We're In This Together" had never felt more appropriate than it did today.
I've become impossible holding on to when
When everything seemed to matter more
The two of us
All used and beaten up
Watching fate as it flow down the path we
Have chose
You and me
We're in this together now
None of them can stop us now
We will make it through somehow
You and me
If the world should break in two
Until the very end of me
Until the very end of you
Awake to the sound as they peel apart the skin
They pick and they pull
Trying to get their fingers in
Well they've got to kill what we've found
Well they've got to hate what we fear
Well they've got to make it go away
Well they've got to make it disappear
The farther I fall I'm beside you
As lost as I get I will find you
The deeper the wound I'm inside you
For ever and ever I'm a part of
You and me
We're in this together now
None of them can stop us now
We will make it through somehow
You and me
If the world should break in two
Until the very end of me
Until the very end of you
All that we were is gone we have to hold on
All that we were is gone we have to hold on
When all our hope is gone we have to hold on
All that we were is gone but we can hold on
Sören thought of Anthony, the hugs this morning, the cuddling together on the steps of the cathedral. He thought of the dreams that had been haunting him, of making Anthony leave "back then". His fists clenched, determined to hang on to what he had.
Then another Nine Inch Nails song came on.
You let me violate you
You let me desecrate you
You let me penetrate you
You let me complicate you
Help me
I broke apart my insides
Help me
I've got no soul to sell
Help me
The only thing that works for me
Help me get away from myself
I want to fuck you like an animal
I want to feel you from the inside
I want to fuck you like an animal
My whole existence is flawed
You get me closer to god
You can have my isolation
You can have the hate that it brings
You can have my absence of faith
You can have my everything
Help me
Tear down my reason
Help me
It's your sex I can smell
Help me
You make me perfect
Help me become somebody else
I want to fuck you like an animal
I want to feel you from the inside
I want to fuck you like an animal
My whole existence is flawed
You get me closer to god
Sören was half-hard by the time he got off the train, and despite his fatigue he hurried home from the station, both because it was starting to rain, and also because he didn't want passerby to see his tented scrubs. All the way home his mind kept replaying memories of he and Anthony making passionate love together. It had been over a month since their last time and Sören wanted. He felt like a starving man thinking of food. There was an ache in him, that could only be filled by being one with his mate, climbing the heights of passion again.
Sören still had a few hours before Anthony would be getting home. He would have to go into work at three AM, and he did the mental math around how to make this happen. Sören took a shower and then he got in bed, naked, and set the alarm for fifteen minutes before Anthony was set to get home, giving himself enough time to wake up before Anthony got in the door. He'd take a nap now, and he'd do the rest of his sleep later. Sören was still horny when he got in bed - if anything, he was hornier from having been naked in the shower, the touch of his hand as he lathered himself - but he knew if he brought himself off now, he might lose his motivation for later. And even as his body screamed as he lay there, pent-up, wanting release, he managed to tumble off into sleep, to the sound of the rain against the window.
For once the blare of the alarm wasn't unwelcome. Sören flew out of bed, splashed some cold water on his face, and then, on a whim, he put in the buttplug that he hadn't worn in months. Sören paced around, waiting, the buttplug teasing him with every step. As soon as Sören heard Anthony's Audi pull in his heart began racing with anticipation - Sören smiled, knowing if he were a dog or a cat his tail would be wagging right now. He was practically panting as he heard Anthony come up the steps, cock throbbing, wanting.
Anthony stepped inside, and Sören stepped out from the kitchen. For a moment they just looked at each other - Anthony in his suit, and Sören completely naked, erect. Then Sören fell on him, kissing him hard, slamming him up against the wall. Anthony moaned into the kiss and his hands slid over Sören's naked body - Sören smiled into the kiss as he felt Anthony's hands tremble, felt that shiver go through his lover. Anthony's breath hitched as they pulled apart, and then Sören came closer and kissed him harder. Their tongues played together, teasing, and Sören sucked Anthony's lower lip between his, nibbled on it, before Sören dropped to his knees, reaching to undo his trousers.
Sören smiled at the erect cock once it was freed, and looked up at Anthony. "Yes?"
"God yes."
Sören swallowed it down, hungry, needy. His own cock jolted at the little cry Anthony gave as Sören's mouth wrapped around him. Sören sucked hard and fast, his own cock throbbing, reveling in every gasp and sigh and groan, the way Anthony shuddered and panted, the look of heat in his eyes, that look of being completely lost in pleasure as Sören serviced him. Sören sucked and sucked, loving it - he'd missed this so much. And as greedy as Sören was, as needy as they both were, Sören still couldn't resist teasing him a little, pulling Anthony's cock out of his mouth to lick it, looking up at Anthony to let him see how much he was enjoying this, the look of happiness and worship on his face as his tongue swirled around the head, lashed the slit and the frenulum, licked up and down the shaft. Slow, lazy, languid strokes, and then harder, faster, bathing it. Anthony's moans got louder and Sören reached to cup his balls, gently playing with them, teasing him even more.
At last Sören took the cock back in his mouth and Anthony grabbed his curls, gently thrusting. When Anthony gave another little cry and shivered, Sören knew he was getting close, could feel the balls tightening in his hand. Sören worked his tongue as he sucked and made "mmmmmm" sounds, encouraging him. Soon Anthony was gasping, trembling, and their eyes met and Sören saw that needy look in his eyes and Sören narrowed his own, challenging him. Sören sucked harder, faster, and Anthony's breath hitched and he moaned, "Sören, I'm..."
"Mmmmmmmmmm."
"Oh god." And then Anthony gave that shuddery gasp Sören loved, knees buckling, sliding against the wall a little as he spent into Sören's mouth.
Sören loved the taste of him, and he loved it when there was so much of it that it spilled out the corners of his mouth, feeling utterly debauched. Sören swallowed it down and licked his lips, savoring. He was so turned on by the act of sucking Anthony off and watching him come - listening to him come - that Sören almost came too, and now as Anthony helped him up and kissed him, Sören's cock was almost painfully hard, dripping precum in a puddle on the floor.
Anthony reached down for Sören's cock, slowly stroking it. "Shall we take care of this?"
Sören just nodded, not able to make words. He giggled, and Anthony laughed too.
Anthony gave him another kiss - soft and sweet - and then Anthony picked him up off the floor, threw Sören over his shoulder, and carried him caveman-style to the bedroom, as Sören laughed at the vehemence of it. Anthony put Sören down on the bed and Sören watched him undress, stroking himself at the show, cock throbbing even more at the sight of Anthony getting naked. God, he's beautiful.
As soon as Anthony was completely undressed, he climbed on the bed and over Sören, a feral look in his eye that made Sören shiver, cock throbbing, hole twitching around the plug inside him. Sören lay back against the pillows and Anthony claimed his mouth fiercely, roughly, then trailed kisses down Sören's throat, sucked a nipple hard, tongue lashing it fast, suckling again, harder, giving the same attention to the other nipple, then he licked from Sören's chest down his stomach, to the hard cock ready and waiting for him. Anthony paused a moment over Sören's bush, breathing in the scent of him, rubbing his nose in it - Sören loved that, and clutched at him, feverish.
Then Anthony took Sören's cock in his mouth and their eyes met, Anthony studying Sören's reaction as he swallowed it inch by inch. That moment of feeling Anthony's mouth around him was so good Sören almost cried - so good he almost came right then.
It didn't take long for Sören to be undone, as long as he'd been without, and as much as he was turned on by having sucked Anthony to climax... and as much as Anthony got into it, murmuring his own pleasure as he sucked, reaching down to stroke himself as he sucked Sören hungrily, greedily, rubbing his tongue as he sucked, knowing exactly how Sören liked it. He took Sören's cock out of his mouth for a moment, teeth tugging on the captive bead ring in the head of Sören's cock, making Sören gasp, tongue teasing the foreskin, lashing the prominent frenulum fast then slow. He sucked on just the head, working his tongue, kissing it, making Sören writhe, grasping the headboard, out of his mind with sensation. Then his cock was in Anthony's mouth again, gliding back and forth, in and out, Anthony's mouth fucking him, as good as anything had ever felt. The tension built higher and higher until Sören's thighs were quivering, and when he was at that point of no return Anthony's free hand began gently rubbing his balls and the root of the shaft. Sören heard himself make an inhuman, guttural noise as he let go, shooting and shooting. Anthony groaned as he tasted Sören, and Sören watched him swallow and then lick Sören clean, getting every last drop until Sören had to push him off, laughing, too sensitive.
Anthony came up to kiss him and pulled Sören close. Sören could feel Anthony was hard again - he knew that turned Anthony on as much as sucking Anthony had turned Sören on - but Sören needed a few minutes to recharge, and that was fine... they snuggled together, Anthony petting him.
Finally Sören's fingers walked down Anthony's chest and stomach, down a hip and thigh, over to Anthony's cock. "We should do something about this."
"Hmmmm, I wonder what." Anthony stroked his chin, pretending to look thoughtful.
Sören had put in the buttplug in anticipation of getting fucked, and he still wanted that, but first he wanted to take Anthony, wanted to fuck, wanted to pound out all of his frustration and stress. Sören took both their cocks in his fist and the feel of Anthony's cock against his brought Sören to full erection quickly. Sören got even harder as Anthony began kissing his neck, his shoulder, kissed his way down to Sören's nipples, tongue lashing, knowing exactly how to tease him. Sören reached for the lube on their bedtable and Anthony moaned as he watched Sören pour lube over their cocks, then over his free hand. Sören kissed him deeply as he reached around from behind and pushed slick fingers into Anthony's passage, and Anthony moaned and bucked against him as Sören found that spot right away, rubbing.
The feel of Anthony wrapped around his fingers made Sören even crazier. He needed it more than he had ever needed anything in his life. Sören kissed Anthony's neck, nibbled, growled. When Anthony began to rock against Sören's fingers in and out of him, fucking himself, Sören knew he was ready. Sören gave him a deep, hungry kiss, and smiled as he watched Anthony grab a pillow and slip it under him.
Sören brought the tip of his cock to Anthony's passage and put in just the tip, in and out, teasing them both until Anthony clutched at him and gasped out, "Please." Just the shuddering, breathless urgency in that one word, the look in Anthony's eyes, threatened to set Sören off right there. Sören took a deep breath, and with his hands sliding over Anthony's chest and stomach, he began to slide in, inch by inch. Anthony groaned deeply, and he winced a little - he was so tight, it had been too long for them - but he kept pushing out around Sören, which helped, and at last Sören was all the way inside and they looked into each other's eyes, a look of relief and happiness on Anthony's face when they were joined in full. Sören smiled tenderly at him and stroked Anthony's face, his hair.
"I love you," Sören said.
"I love you."
Sören went slowly at first, both because of how tight Anthony was, and because the tight, hot silken grip around his cock was too delicious, and Sören didn't want to come too soon. But soon enough Anthony was rolling his hips back at Sören, grabbing Sören's hips, panting, and Sören couldn't hold back his lust anymore. He grabbed a hold of Anthony's legs, propping them on his shoulders, and he began to slam into him, fast and furious. Anthony's nails raked Sören's chest and he pinched Sören's nipples hard, crying out, "Oh, god, yes," which Sören answered with a growl, driving into him even faster.
The next few minutes were wild, savage, as Sören pounded him and Anthony gave back as good as he got, hips rocking back at him, Anthony's moans and gasps met by Sören's grunts and growls, Sören's balls slapping against him as he took what he wanted, claimed what was his. This was exactly what Sören needed, letting out all of his aggression, his madness, losing himself in the beauty of Anthony in the throes of passion, losing himself in the sensation, the pleasure, losing himself in the need to please his mate, to give Anthony what he also needed, craved, had been aching for. Sören trembled at the feel of Anthony's nails grazing his skin, giving him gooseflesh, every touch close to sending him over the edge and he kept holding back, holding back, wanting Anthony's release first.
Sören knew he was right there when Anthony couldn't moan or cry out anymore, just gasp, looking almost like he was in pain, that desperate look in his eye. Sören reached for Anthony's cock, dripping precum over his hand, and began to stroke in time with their thrusts, eyes locked with Anthony's. Then Anthony let out a little sob as his cock pulsed in Sören's hand and Sören growled, pleased with his work. "Come for me, elskan," Sören commanded.
"Oh god, Sören." Anthony shivered as his cock sprayed over Sören's chest and stomach. Sören groaned at the sight and feel of the hot seed on his skin. Anthony threw back his head and cried out, "Sören!" as he shuddered again and his cock spent another round.
Two thrusts and Sören took his own release, calling out "Elskan min," as his cock throbbed and throbbed, as his entire body tingled and sang with the ecstasy flooding him. Sören collapsed onto Anthony's chest, and they kissed deeply, Anthony's arms tight around him.
"God, that was amazing." Anthony laughed and gave Sören a squeeze.
"I got so horny for you on the train," Sören confessed. "I set the alarm so I could just..."
"Wow." Anthony looked a little stunned, but pleased. "Well, it was a very pleasant surprise."
They lay there, gently petting, giving each other soft, sweet little kisses. They weren't quite done yet, as the kisses deepened, and soon enough Sören was hard again - despite all of his exhaustion lately. Anthony chuckled at the sight of Sören's erection, reaching down to play with it.
"You're insatiable," Anthony said.
"It's been too long," Sören said.
Anthony sighed, and nodded. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but Sören could see the sadness on his face and Sören felt destroyed inside almost as much as when he'd slept their entire weekend in Brighton away. They had been used to having such a regular, passionate sex life, and this drought had been hard enough for Sören, feeling touch-starved, but he imagined it was even worse for Anthony, who wasn't working a hundred hours a week and getting too tired, too numb to care. Sören felt like a shitty partner, once again had that feeling like he didn't deserve Anthony.
But he didn't want to kill the mood. And Anthony knew to lighten it a little, giving Sören a kiss. "I still can't believe you planned this," Anthony said, laughing.
"I was on a mission." Sören smirked. "A crusade, even." Sören grasped at levity, needing to push the feeling of guilt away as quickly as he could before it killed his erection and made things even worse. "A caped crusader, just... without a cape. Or any clothes at all."
"So what, you're Batman?" And then Anthony laughed harder, remembering their joke from awhile back. "Leðurblöbörkbörkbörkhurrdurriblorpflerpflarp?"
Sören doubled over, sides hurting, face hurting. "Leðurblökumaðurinn."
"And this..." Anthony gave Sören's erection a gentle tug. "This is... the Bat Signal?"
"The Leðurblaka Signal."
When they calmed down from their hysterics, Anthony kissed the tip of Sören's nose and said, "I love you, IKEA."
"I love you too, elskan."
"So you want to go again?"
"Mhm. And, when I was getting ready for you, I, ah..." Sören rolled away and got on his hands and knees, showing Anthony the plug inside him. "Here's an IKEA product."
Anthony started laughing again, and then he slapped Sören's ass. "Terrible."
"Takk."
Anthony pulled out the plug and then he dove down, and Sören cried out at the feel of Anthony's tongue inside him. He was all cleaned out and still fresh from the shower, and Anthony ate him like he was starving for it, tongue fucking that sweet spot inside him, then rubbing more slowly, teasing it, making Sören howl and pant and tremble, fists grabbing the pillows, white-knuckled. When Anthony's tongue sped up again Sören rocked his hips, fucking himself on Anthony's tongue, not able to help it. "Elskan. Elskan, oh god, that's so good, það er svo fokking gott, fokk mér með þá tungu..."
Anthony groaned into him and kept kissing, licking, until Sören was almost sobbing, shaking with need, going out of his mind. Anthony patted Sören's ass as he pulled back, and Sören got up and they were both in a semi-sitting position and Anthony started kissing Sören's neck. "How do you want it?" Anthony rasped.
"Yes?"
They laughed, and then Anthony lay back against the pillows, looking up at Sören expectantly. Sören smiled as he straddled Anthony's hips, and Anthony guided his cock to Sören's opening and Sören began to sink down. Sören was at least as tight as Anthony had been, but once he got past the initial shock of being stretched, the feeling of being filled was comforting, even exhilarating. Nothing felt so right as when they were one inside the other like this, joined. All of their troubles went away, nothing else mattered. Just this. Just them.
Just the need in them, fire calling to fire.
Sören began to ride, keeping it slow at first to get adjusted to the cock inside him. Anthony watched Sören taking his cock, watching his cock slide in and out, watched Sören's hips roll, the fluid grace of his body. Anthony's hands caressed Sören's shoulders and arms and chest and stomach and hips and thighs, and his touch made it even better, intensifying the pleasure of Anthony's cock rubbing that magic place inside him. Soon Sören was riding harder, faster, Anthony's hands continuing to explore Sören's body, and Sören's own hands reached to touch every part of Anthony that he could, admiring the perfection of him, savoring the feel of him, seeing as much with his hands as with his eyes.
The rain was falling harder outside, really pouring, seeming to mirror the storm of their passion, Sören riding him harder until he was bouncing, holding onto Anthony for dear life as Anthony rocked into him, making him work for it. One of Anthony's hands was on Sören's cock now, stroking madly, and the other hand was playing with Sören's nipples, rubbing, plucking, pinching, tugging on the rings, every so often sliding up to stroke Sören's face, his beard, trace his lips. Sören saw - and felt - his cock dripping precum all over Anthony's hand, and when Sören was so close, so close, right there, Anthony let go of Sören's cock for a moment to stick his precum-slick fingers in Sören's mouth. Sören sucked Anthony's fingers as Anthony's other hand played over his nipples and his stomach, and Sören rode as hard as he could, the rhythm on his prostate sending him into a frenzy. As badly as he wanted to come, this moment of pure lust and sensation, where all that existed was their fuck, was so good Sören never wanted it to end.
Anthony rose up a little, hand back on Sören's cock, his other arm encircling Sören, embracing him, cozy and safe. Anthony pulled Sören down and leaned up to kiss Sören's heart, then up his neck, trailing kisses along Sören's jaw.
"Come, my love," Anthony whispered, and crushed Sören's mouth to his.
Sören screamed into the kiss, the pleasure shattering him, the powerful contractions inside him and throbbing through him, so intense it almost hurt, but so good, joy and relief and awe making him laugh and cry at the same time. "Anthony," Sören breathed, and kissed him back, harder.
Anthony groaned into the kiss as Sören felt his molten flow, felt Anthony tremble against him. Anthony grabbed onto Sören tight as he shivered, pulled back from the kiss to gasp for breath, and the look of love and bliss on his face was so lovely it brought tears to Sören's eyes, made Sören want to paint him just like this, preserving the moment forever.
They sank back and Sören listened to Anthony's heartbeat, listened to the rain. Anthony pet Sören's curls, rubbed his shoulders and back. For a long time there was no need for words, and at last Anthony said, simply, "I love you."
"I love you." Sören snuggled into the crook of his neck and shoulder, and Anthony's arms tightened around him.
As stressed as Sören had been, as scared as he was of their relationship getting to the breaking point with these hours and the fallout of his exhaustion, it all washed away to the sound of the rain, the feeling of closeness as they lay there together.
"You are all that exists," Sören whispered. "You are all I want to know."
The next day Sören went into work at three AM, and though for once he'd gotten a decent amount of sleep he still had lingering exhaustion from weeks of not enough sleep, and now his body was well-used on top of that, making him move gingerly throughout the day, hoping none of his colleagues noticed and put two and two together as to what he'd been up to.
When Anthony came to pick Sören up in the evening and they got home, Sören noticed Anthony was also walking a little funny, and it went without saying that they would both need at least a night to recharge from their romp last night. Sören still couldn't believe how horny he'd been - how insatiable he'd been, finding his strength after running on fumes, enough for three orgasms. The good loving from last night seemed to ease the tension between them, cuddling together when it was time to go to bed, before they got to sleep.
The following day, Sören's bitterness returned, if anything even stronger for a day of reprieve, like it had been worse to have a good night with his husband-to-be and feeling "back to normal" for a brief while, than if they'd kept going without. Sören was in a foul mood at work and though he tried to keep his usual warm bedside manner with his patients, Colin and Pamela and Ed all seemed to know something was off and kept asking him if he was OK. Elise Hansen finally asked if he was OK as their paths crossed on Sören's way to look at MRI results, and Sören snapped, "I'm fucking fine, Jesus fucking Christ."
Elise took a step back, jaw open, blue eyes wide.
Sören gasped, realizing he'd lashed out at her and she'd done nothing wrong, she'd just asked if he was OK out of polite concern. And of course, Sören's resentment that she wasn't on the same crazy schedule because of her personal life - while his own relationship was strained - had kicked in.
"Oh god. I'm sorry," Sören said, face burning with shame, eyes stinging with unshed tears. "Fuck, I'm so sorry, Elise. I..." He swallowed hard and looked down at his shoes. "I'm overtired. I..." He looked up, and away from her. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry..."
Elise took a step towards him and gently patted his shoulder, as if he were one of her children throwing a temper tantrum - and that made him even angrier, but he kept his anger in check, not wanting to make her feel worse... not wanting to be unprofessional and risk his job. "I understand, Sören. I had a moment like that years ago when I was working a hundred hours a week. It happens."
Sören needed to apologize again - this time with feeling, in Elise's native language of Danish, his third language. "Jeg er virkelig ked af det. Jeg var en røv, det fortjente du ikke."
"Du behøver ikke fortsætte med at undskylde." Elise patted him again, and then she switched back to English. "You'll be OK. Go get some coffee or something."
Sören stopped in the break room after he looked at the MRI scans, but coffee didn't really help, especially when he wasn't alone and there were other doctors and nurses in there, staring at him as he chugged three cups of horrible coffee to stay awake. Sören felt like screaming what is everyone fucking looking at, but he didn't, he just kept chugging his coffee, glaring back at them.
He was never so happy in his life to be out of there when his shift ended, never so happy to see Anthony, hugging him tight as he got in the car.
That relief changed to annoyance once they got home and Anthony immediately set to work making tea, not washing his hands first.
"Anthony, I have told you five hundred times now, wash your hands as soon as you get home, before you touch anything in the kitchen. Jesus."
Anthony gave Sören a withering look, but he did as he was told. And yet, the vehemence of it made Sören feel even more irritated.
"You shouldn't have to be told this," Sören said.
"Pardon me for forgetting. I'm not a surgeon, this isn't second nature to me like it is to you."
"You're able to remember tiny little details about so many other things, and you forget to wash your hands when we get home? Really? You're not just doing it to piss me off?"
"What would be the point in trying to aggravate you even more than you're already aggravated?" Anthony raised an eyebrow. He shook his head and made a noise of disgust. "Yes, Sören, sometimes I forget little things like this. I told you that before."
Sören immediately felt guilty - and once again wondered if Anthony had ADHD - but he kept that thought to himself.
Tea seemed to relax them both, and Sören relaxed further as he took out his tablet and began to work as Anthony watched BBC News. Sören was just starting to add color to the scene he'd sketched from his dreams - or more accurately, nightmares - of the last time he saw Anthony in the "time before", his back turned as other-Anthony walked away from him into the freezing rain. And then he stopped relaxing, as he started seeing the scene in his mind's eye again, started feeling.
Everything is fucked, Sören thought to himself as he brought the sketch to life with color, watching the stylus glide over the screen. Everything is completely fucked.
Anthony seemed to notice the change in him and came over to sit on the other side of Sören on the couch - not looking over at the tablet, since he knew Sören was touchy about him seeing a work in progress, especially this one. He grabbed one of Sören's legs, put it on his lap, and started to rub Sören's foot. Sören sighed and found himself moving the stylus more slowly as he melted into Anthony's magic touch, fingers kneading, rolling, soothing.
"Would you like to go out to dinner?" Anthony asked. "Anything you want. Thought it would be nice for us to get out for awhile, get some air, go to dinner, maybe a walk in the park..."
Sören exhaled sharply. He wanted to say yes, but he was tired, and he was tired enough that he worried about having another episode in public, snapping at Anthony, or some random stranger and causing an incident. He felt too keyed up, too dangerous.
Art was safer. Art was his refuge, his hiding place. Sören remembered "the time before", hiding out in his forge when he felt stung by the world - stung by their father, stung by his wife years later. Too sensitive, not wanting others to see... putting all that emotion into his work, like he was doing now with the painting on the tablet.
"No," Sören said.
He immediately felt bad for such a curt answer, felt like he should quantify it somehow, but no words would come. And Anthony sat with it for a moment and finally he nodded and said, "OK."
Anthony continued to rub Sören's feet, his expression neutral. Sören wondered if the refusal was bothering him - he still felt guilty for saying no. But before Sören could get up enough nerve to ask, Anthony got up, gave Sören a tight smile, and went to the kitchen. Sören watched Anthony wash his hands, and then start rummaging around in the fridge. Soon, Anthony was cooking.
Anthony was not the crap cook he feared he'd be - he made a good stir-fry with chicken and vegetables, good enough that Sören had seconds. When they were finished eating Sören gave him a little kiss. "My compliments to the chef."
Anthony smiled shyly. "I tried."
"You did, and I appreciate it." Sören stroked Anthony's face.
When it was time for bed, Anthony began kissing Sören's neck and rubbing against him, looking for a repeat of the passion they had shared two days ago. Sören felt a touch of anger, wondering if Anthony had cooked out of the goodness of his heart - as the right thing to do, because his partner was too exhausted to cook himself, and sick of takeaway - or if Anthony did it because he wanted to get laid. He also felt guilty, because he wanted to please Anthony - and he felt resentful of his schedule and how much that had stolen his life. He wanted to at least try to make love and help things get at least a little bit back to normal between them, so he returned Anthony's kisses and caresses.
But it became apparent several minutes in that Sören's cock was not responding, as good as everything felt. Sören was exhausted and just wanted to sleep, and his body didn't lie. Anthony finally stopped and lay there, staring up at the ceiling, looking disappointed.
"I'm sorry," Sören said. This is my life now, apologizing constantly.
"It's OK." Anthony patted him.
"No, it's not OK." Sören sighed. He felt even guiltier now. "Let me take care of you, at least. Don't want you to get blue balls."
Anthony was still erect, and Sören palmed the hard cock through Anthony's pajama bottoms, rubbing in gentle circles as he kissed Anthony's neck. At last he freed Anthony's cock. Sören thought about going down and giving him a blowjob, but Sören was so tired and achy from work that he just wanted to lay there and not move any more than necessary. So he reached out, took Anthony's cock in his hand, and began to stroke.
A few minutes later Anthony was undone, moaning, closing his eyes as he climaxed, spilling over Sören's hand. Thank god that's over, Sören thought to himself, and immediately felt terrible for thinking it. He didn't hate giving him a handjob, and he wished he was feeling awake and revved up enough for sex, but Sören just wanted to sleep, and within a few minutes of Anthony's release, Sören passed out.
Sören woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of rain and a cool empty space in the bed. This wasn't in and of itself unusual - he and Anthony sometimes got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom - but there were no sounds in the bathroom, and when Sören listened he heard Anthony pacing up and down the hallway. When Anthony walked by the bedroom door there was a glow in the hallway, and when Sören's eyes adjusted he saw Anthony was texting on his cell phone.
"Anthony, what are you doing? Come to bed."
Anthony lingered for a few seconds, finishing up whatever he was doing, and then he turned off his cell phone and got back in bed with Sören. "Sorry," he said. "I got a text from work."
"At this hour?"
"Sometimes clients have questions." Anthony gave a nervous little laugh and kissed Sören's cheek, then Anthony rolled against him, the "big spoon" against Sören's back.
For all that Sören worked a ridiculous schedule, he was glad that his patients didn't text him in the middle of the night. "Night, elskan," Sören said, patting Anthony's hands before the rain lulled him back to sleep.
chapter 44 | return to Learning To Fly | return to Other Tolkien Fic | return to index