The next day, Sören was at the National all day, and Anthony found himself missing Sören more than usual. And he knew why.
While he hadn't objected to Mark living with them, and he would feel guilty about turning Mark away knowing now he was family, it was still awkward and uncomfortable. He knew that the breakup with Mark still stung close to twenty years later, but he hadn't expected the wound to be this raw and festering, like the breakup had happened two years ago instead of twenty. Being around Mark was a reminder of the rejection - Mark saying he was too "needy" when Anthony had offered to live with him, travel with him - and the way that one word had impacted him for years and years, right down to setting Anthony on the path to breaking Sören's own heart for not speaking up about his needs and getting them met elsewhere that one foolish, regrettable time.
Anthony also felt like a hypocrite, carrying a grudge against Mark like this when he'd arguably done far worse to Sören in 2013, and Sören had forgiven him and eventually welcomed him back, taken him back into his arms, into his bed. It was also abundantly, painfully clear that the last near-twenty years hadn't exactly been a picnic for Mark - that Mark had probably fared worse than he had.
But the heart felt what it felt, and try as he did to motor through and not show any outward signs of bitterness and resentment, it was there, simmering quietly.
Sören was a constant in his life. Something he never took for granted again after 2013, but nonetheless, Anthony was certain he and Sören were mated for life, like two swans, and that gave him comfort. After last night's revelation that Maglor had not told Tolkien about Finarfin's death because it hurt too much - which was damn close to a love confession - Anthony felt even more troubled with Mark's presence, and wished Sören was there to hold him, kiss him, reassure him that though Mark had left long ago, and there was the lingering threat that he would do so again, Sören himself was not going anywhere.
Anthony kept checking the clock, and his watch, like it would somehow make Sören get home faster. The day dragged on and on. Anthony helped Nicholas with chores, as they typically did on weekends when Sören had to work, and while that was usually a distraction, getting Anthony out of his head for awhile, now it just trapped Anthony even more in his head and made the day feel longer. It didn't help that he could hear Mark upstairs playing music - it sounded like Mark was composing something new. Something beautiful. Every now and again, the chord changes made Anthony break out into gooseflesh, tears stinging his eyes. Maglor had a gift. And in 1998-1999, Anthony had loved him for it.
A part of Anthony still did, if he was being very honest with himself, and he hated it. His pride hated it most of all.
What made things even worse was that there was something off about Nicholas. Nicholas was quiet - which was usual for him, not a red flag in and of itself. What was different were the frequent glances off to the side, the even more frequent little smiles. Something was going on, and Anthony thought about pausing the chores and asking, but he didn't.
Mark had wanted to help with tidying and organizing, but Nicholas said he needed to do some things himself for the sake of his pride - and Anthony felt that way too, even as close to three years after the accident, he was still slowed down, on a cane. Nicholas conceded that Mark could make dinner instead, and Anthony could vouch for Mark's cooking. He was very good at it. Mark used to cook for them when they were together.
Yet another reminder of old times.
When Sören got home, Anthony went right to him, not even allowing Sören the chance to wash up first before they hugged and Anthony rained kisses over his face. The cats circled, meowing for attention, and after a minute Anthony backed off to let Sören stoop to pet them. Seumas hopped up on Sören's shoulder and rode all the way down to the bathroom for Sören to wash his hands, staying perched there even with the water running, undaunted.
Anthony came behind Sören, rested his cane against the sink, and wrapped his arms around him. "Hi, Brown Eyes." He nuzzled Sören's neck and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "How was your day?"
Sören blew a raspberry. He continued scrubbing his hands thoroughly then he said, "One of those days that makes me question my sanity with this job. I had emergency surgery all day, and one of the nastier cases I've seen."
"I'm sorry."
"Jæja. Me too." Sören sighed. "I'm home now." He gave a sad smile in the mirror. "It's good to be home. It'll be nice to relax and just... not have to deal with any serious shit tonight."
As Sören and Anthony walked out of the bathroom - Seumas still riding on Sören's shoulder, headbutting him over and over again - Nicholas came out from the master bedroom, carrying a feather duster. "Ah, there you are, dear." Nicholas walked up to Sören, kissed both his cheeks, then kissed him full on the lips. Anthony's breath hitched as he watched the kiss deepen, their tongues playing together - that never got old, never failed to turn him on - and he heard himself moan as Nicholas nipped at Sören's lower lip. Then they nuzzled, and Sören giggled and kissed the tip of Nicholas's nose.
"Hey, elskan." Sören's nose twitched. "Something smells good."
"Mark is making dinner. Chicken parmigiana, I believe." Nicholas put an arm around Sören and then he put a hand on Anthony's shoulder, looked at Anthony, and back at Sören. "Now that you're home, sweetheart, I... need to talk to both of you."
Sören's face fell. Anthony could hear the unvoiced there goes not having to deal with any serious shit tonight.
Nicholas led them to the stairs - if they were going to the lounge on the second floor rather than the greatroom or the master bedroom on the ground floor, then this was not something for Mark's ears, though Anthony had a feeling Mark's hearing was that sensitive that he would still probably be able to hear it.
Anthony's heart beat a little faster, his mouth dry. He knew something was up... and here it was.
"Mark kissed me last night."
Sören's jaw dropped. Anthony blinked slowly.
Anthony tried not to react right away, though he felt a flare of anger starting at Maglor. Anthony took some deep breaths. He was a criminal defense barrister by profession, his entire life was dedicated to presenting another side of the story, that of the accused...
...and in Anthony's own personal life, he knew well that this was far less than the wrong he'd done in 2013, when he'd looked for a no-strings-attached quick fuck to relieve himself when Sören was working hundred-hour weeks and too exhausted and grumpy for sex, and hadn't talked to Sören about it first.
Sören raised an eyebrow and before he could speak, Anthony found himself switching over to lawyer mode. "So... are we talking about a peck on the cheek? A kiss on the lips? Or..."
"A French kiss," Nicholas said, nodding.
"Right." Anthony already knew that, but he didn't want to assume. He went on, "And what prompted it? You say he kissed you, so he initiated it, it wasn't the other way around? What was going on that led to the kiss?"
"Calm your tits, Jaws," Sören muttered.
Anthony would have died laughing at that if the situation weren't so fraught - he'd earned the epithet "the Shark" years ago, and he supposed he was looking like a shark who'd smelled blood and was circling its prey.
Nicholas exhaled. "I got up to visit the bathroom last night and heard noise in the kitchen. It was Mark unloading the dishwasher. We had a short but intense conversation about... well, the conversation we had last evening. And, though I feel Mark should tell you this himself, Mark expressed regret for breaking your heart in 1999, Anthony, and he also said he worries that an apology might be misconstrued as wanting to get back together out of a sense of obligation that we must do things exactly as they were done before, instead of forming connections based on getting to know each other again here and now."
Anthony's eyes stung with the beginning of tears. Even though he knew he didn't have to "be strong" in front of his partners, who had seen him cry before, he still composed himself, for the sake of his pride. Mark had broken his heart, badly. It had damaged him for years. And yet, knowing Mark was sorry for it went straight to that wounded place, like a balm that hurt at first, but would begin to cleanse and heal the wound.
Sören seemed to know right away, and took Anthony's hand, squeezed.
Nicholas also seemed to know, giving Anthony a sad smile, before he went on, "I assumed that Mark's statement about us not being obligated to each other because of before was a polite way of rejecting me without having to directly reject me... due to my age, and all."
"Oh, elskan." Sören frowned. "You know how fucking sexy you are to me?"
"And me too," Anthony said, nodding.
Nicholas's brow furrowed. "As you know, not everyone shares your tastes. In fact, a majority of people think seniors like myself are 'gross' and -"
"Jæja, fuck them," Sören said.
Nicholas chuckled. Then he sobered. "Mark told me he didn't think I was too old at all. He said he found me handsome. And then he walked over and kissed me. Nothing else happened - he just went upstairs. But I thought it was best in the interest of honesty to tell you that it happened, and Anthony I apologize since this seems to affect you a bit more with your history, but I wanted to wait until Sören was home and tell both of you at once."
"Thank you for telling us," Sören said.
Anthony nodded. Although, a part of him wished he didn't know because things just suddenly got a lot more complicated.
Nicholas sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose and winced like he was in pain. Then he squared his shoulders, a look of stern determination on his face. "I shan't lie. I am attracted to him. But out of respect for you, Anthony, I don't think it would be a good idea for me to do anything further with him until and unless you and he work things out."
Anthony gave a thin, bitter smile, and shrugged. "There's nothing to work out. He told me I was too needy when I was nineteen. If anything, the pain and trauma I've endured since then have made me clingier, needier."
Nicholas sighed again. He frowned. "He didn't tell me what he said to you, but he said you were going to, I quote, 'throw your life away for him', so perhaps that was not the truth -"
"And maybe it was. In any case, you're the one telling me this, not him, and that speaks bloody volumes, doesn't it? He's been here since January second, it's the twentieth now, he's had over a fortnight to come to me and tell me what he said wasn't what he meant, if that was so." Anthony heard the fire and ice and steel in his voice, and he took a few deep breaths, trying to get his anger under control. He didn't want to lash out at Nicholas - though he was a little upset that Nicholas was attracted to Mark, he couldn't blame him, Mark was still maddeningly attractive, and still so much himself that it was difficult not to feel those old feelings... and in any case, Anthony believed Nicholas that it had been Mark to initiate the kiss, so the blame was not on Nicholas.
Sören patted him, and put an arm around him. "If this helps at all - I also think Mark is sexy as hell, and I like him, and if circumstances were different, I'd probably pursue him. But you are my partner, you have been a part of my life since 2011, so your feelings are a priority to me. I'm with Nick here, I don't think it's a good idea to try to rekindle past relationships till you and he have had a heart-to-heart, and maybe, ah, some other parts-to-parts."
Anthony was torn between wanting to laugh - he loved Sören for being Sören - and wanting to scream in frustration. "You sound so bloody sure that he and I are going to get back together. It's done, it's been done for close to twenty years. Just because you forgave me for a more severe offense doesn't mean I can, or should, forgive him for breaking my heart, breaking my life eighteen years ago -"
Sören put up his hands and moved back a little, flinching like he'd been hit. Anthony's face burned, realizing how hysterical he sounded, not wanting to be this angry, this upset, and make his partners feel like they'd done something wrong.
"All I'm saying is," Sören said softly, "I think Nick and I are in agreement, neither of us are going to do anything with Mark without your say-so."
"I don't own either of you," Anthony said. "And I don't want you to feel like you're being held back and resent me for it. So go on, if you want to go there with him."
Sören shook his head. "Just because you say it's fine, doesn't mean it is fine." He cocked his head to one side and scowled. "We've been down this road before, Cornelius Anthony Hewlett-Johnson, and it leads nowhere good."
Anthony exhaled, and flopped further back on the couch, covering his hot face in his hands.
Nicholas stood up, walked over to Anthony, and kissed his forehead. "I meant what I said, dear. And it's not something I could resent you for. On the contrary, thank you for not being angry with me over the kiss."
Anthony took Nicholas's hand and tried to smile. Then Nicholas tousled his hair, then Sören's curls, before stepping back. "I'm going downstairs to see if Mark needs help with anything."
Anthony watched Nicholas walk out of the lounge - admiring the still-taut ass in his trousers - and then Sören cupped Anthony's chin in his hand, turned Anthony's head to face him, and gave Anthony a stern look. "Remember what I told you back in 20-fucking-15 about this? Not doing the stiff upper lip, macho no-feelings-we're-English bullshit?" Sören put his hands on his hips. "If you're not very honest with your feelings about what's happening with Mark, it has the potential to cause problems all over again. I really don't want us to end up having fights because you say it's fine, it's fine, and it's not fine."
Anthony knew Sören was right - he'd lost Sören before because of it - and the thought of losing Sören a second time tore at him. He owed Sören the truth, and now their eyes met and Anthony swallowed hard, no longer trying to fight the tears, letting them sting his eyes, roll down his cheeks. "I don't want to be too needy," he choked out.
"Oh, elskan." Sören's own eyes were too bright now. Anthony let out a sob - the sight of Sören crying for him undid him. Then Sören took Anthony's face in his hands, leaned in closer, and began to kiss Anthony's tears, even as his own slid down his face.
"Sören. I didn't mean to upset you -"
"Shhh." Sören kissed the tip of his nose. Their lips brushed, and then crushed together, parted, tongues meeting, playing, teasing, sending a shiver of fire through Anthony's body, cock waking up. Sören's hands wandered from Anthony's cheeks down his chest, rubbing slowly. When Sören's thumb caressed a nipple Anthony groaned into the kiss.
Sören pulled back slightly to catch his breath, and looked into Anthony's eyes again. "I need you to need me," Sören husked.
Now it was Anthony who grabbed Sören and kissed him hard, letting Sören feel that need, all-consuming, bottomless. Their tongues swirled, lashed, more insistent. Sören began to undo the buttons of Anthony's shirt, and with a growl Anthony nibbled Sören's lower lip and reached for the hem of Sören's scrub top, rucking it up, not caring if dinner was soon. This was what he needed, and he needed it now.
Sören lifted his arms and Anthony pulled the top over his head, tossed it to the floor. Then Sören helped Anthony out of his shirt. As Anthony undid his jeans, he watched Sören yank down his scrub pants and boxer-briefs; Sören turned around and gave a sassy butt wiggle and Anthony saw that Sören was wearing the butt plug.
"You little minx." Anthony slapped Sören's ass.
Sören giggled and turned around to help Anthony up. Anthony kicked off his jeans and boxer-briefs, hard cock standing proudly at attention. With a wicked grin, Sören shoved Anthony back on the couch, then Sören got on his knees on the floor before a sitting Anthony, looking at Anthony's cock, then into his eyes.
Anthony's breath hitched as Sören took a long lick from the head down the shaft, then back up. Anthony moaned as Sören's tongue swirled around and around the head. Then Sören drew the head of the cock into his mouth, kissing it, making Anthony moan again, cock pulsing, Sören's lips and tongue working magic. Sören took more of it in his mouth, halfway, and began to suck slowly, moving his head back and forth, as his head rubbed up and down the bottom of the shaft. It felt incredible, and Anthony's arousal was intensified by the sight of those full, luscious lips on his cock, the heat in Sören's eyes, the way Sören hummed with pleasure around the cock in his mouth - watching Sören's right shoulder move, knowing he was so turned on by doing this he was stroking himself.
Anthony sighed, and shivered. "You are so bloody fucking good at this."
"Mmmmmmmmm." Sören sucked a little faster.
Sören's head bobbed up and down, fucking Anthony with his mouth. The pleasure built and built, Anthony's balls tightening. All of the pain of just a short while ago melted away in Sören's mouth, so eager to please. Then Anthony heard the wet rattling sound of Sören jerking himself off and he needed more.
"I want to suck you too," Anthony said.
Sören pulled the cock out of his mouth and licked it, making a streamer with the flowing precum. "Yeah?"
"Need you." Anthony was surprised by the breathiness in his own voice.
Sören got up; Anthony scooted into position, laying on his back. He watched Sören take out the plug, tossing it on top of their clothes, and then Sören climbed on top of him, head between Anthony's legs, cock, balls, and ass in Anthony's face.
Anthony sucked him hungrily, lost in the sensation of being sucked and the lust of sucking the man he loved, worshiping the magnificent cock before him. They moaned with their mouths full, Sören sucking harder and faster, making a delicious filthy slurping sound as he sucked. Anthony needed to tease him back. He took Sören's cock out of his mouth, licked it, then licked and sucked at Sören's balls. Moved his head back to Sören's ass, open and ready. His tongue lapped around the hole, tasting strawberry lubricant and the lingering notes of soap. When he pushed his tongue inside, Sören cried out around the cock in his mouth.
Anthony ate at him, fucking Sören with his tongue. Every few licks he smacked Sören's ass. Soon Sören was going wild, working his hips, riding Anthony's tongue. Anthony loved that, moaning into him, licking faster, reaching around to stroke Sören's cock.
The pleasure continued to build, Sören's mouth driving him closer. He needed to make Sören come with him. He put Sören's cock back in his mouth and sucked for all he was worth, the two of them moaning and groaning and grunting again, viciously devouring each other, going hard for that release.
Then Anthony heard footsteps at the door of the lounge, and a startled breath. Anthony stopped what he was doing and looked to see Mark standing there with his mouth open.
"Oh god," Anthony said. "Er, sorry -"
"No, it's. Ha ha." Mark ran a nervous hand through his hair - something Sören did too - and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking off to the side. "I came up to tell you dinner is ready, but -"
"We should have, uh... been more discrete and not done this in a common room."
"It's all right. I should have let Nicholas come up to tell you but I wanted to be mindful of his arthritis with the stairs."
And I'm sure he loves that, Anthony thought to himself sarcastically, knowing Nicholas's pride and insistence on still doing as much as he possibly could.
Before Anthony or Sören could say anything in response - Anthony realized his hard cock was out of Sören's mouth, in full sight of Mark - the ancient Elf turned and headed down the hall.
Sören put Anthony's cock back in his mouth like nothing had happened, and went back to work. A moment later Anthony did the same, trying not to let what happened phase him.
And then, the thought that Mark had seen them sucking each other - the thought that Mark was just minutes away from watching them come, the thought of Mark seeing them come in each other's mouths - sent Anthony rushing to that point of no return, trembling. Sören was there too - Anthony had a feeling Sören was just as turned on by Mark having seen what he did - and Sören cupped and rubbed Anthony's balls with one hand, taking Anthony's hand with the other.
"Mmmmmm," Sören moaned, working his hips again, fucking Anthony's mouth. "Mmmmhmmm, mmmmm, mmmmm..."
They were both right there. Wanting, needing. Closer, closer, closer, and then there it was. Anthony cried out around the cock in his mouth, throbbing and throbbing with ecstasy, relief. A few seconds later Sören whimpered and flooded Anthony's mouth with hot, salty-sweet seed. Anthony drank, swallowed, licked Sören's cock clean, licked his lips, savoring.
They lay there for a moment, dazed, catching their breath, coming down from the powerful orgasm. Sören climbed off, helped Anthony sit up, and sat next to him, and they kissed and kissed, tasting each other, themselves, combined so deliciously. The kisses were sensual and playful, a reminder there was more later.
But first...
"We better go downstairs." Sören laughed and touched Anthony's cheek. "Don't want dinner to get cold."
"We were very naughty, having dessert first." Anthony gave Sören one last kiss.
Sören grinned. "And a lovely dessert it was."
"Yes indeed."
As they put their clothes back on, Sören busted out laughing harder. Anthony raised an eyebrow and Sören said, "Oh, Mark. Considering the debauchery we got up to back then, he was like an easily shocked Victorian aunt."
"Not just back then," Anthony said without thinking it, and then he covered his hand with his mouth. Even now, eighteen years later, he had such vivid memories of what it had been like with Mark. Doing the same thing he and Sören had done just now. Doing so many things. Mark had taught him how to make love, had made him the lover he was today.
Dinner was going to be awkward, but it would be worse to avoid it. Sören took Anthony's free hand, Anthony's cane in the other hand, clacking on the hardwood floor as they made their way to the stairs. Anthony heard Sören's voice in his mind, clear as day.
I have no regrets. I love loving you.
Anthony squeezed Sören's hand, and smiled.
The next day Sören had off, and after a lazy morning of lovemaking, Nicholas and Sören went grocery shopping together. Mark was off on a walk, leaving Anthony at home alone.
Anthony felt restless and fidgety, but doing his daily Duolingo lessons and some extra, and playing with his fidget spinner wasn't helping. The nervous energy wasn't just mental, it was emotional. He had too many feelings that increasingly were harder and harder to hold back.
He found himself putting his fidget spinner in his pocket and doing something he hadn't done since before they went to Scotland. There was a grand piano in the second floor lounge, and he went up there now to play. He'd felt too self-conscious to play since Mark had come back with them, outclassed by Mark's skill, but Mark wasn't home right now.
So Anthony played like he was making up for lost time. A few pieces by John Coltrane... then by his wife, Alice. It had been Mark who introduced Anthony both to the music of Alice Coltrane and to the musician, taking Anthony to see her in concert and queuing to get her autograph. The memories came flooding back to him and he found himself crying, and eventually not able to finish the song he was playing because its bright, ethereal mood clashed with his melancholy, his pain.
But there was something that seemed to express the ache of those romantic memories, the lingering feelings, the struggle. Anthony started to play "Moonlight Sonata" by Beethoven, letting all that darkness and brooding come out in each note. Losing Mark, losing Sören. Loss, loneliness, heartache.
Anthony was so lost in his song that he didn't hear the footsteps up the stairs, and he jumped with a little cry when he saw Mark standing in the door of the lounge, quietly watching him.
"Jesus Christ," Anthony said when he caught his breath, pulling back from the piano.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." Mark gave a shy smile. "I guess this is twice in two days I've interrupted a private moment."
"Well, the first is nothing you haven't seen before," Anthony said, then realized his brain-to-mouth filter had dissolved in the startle, and covered his mouth, face on fire. Not wanting to think about all the times Mark had seen his cock. Sucked his cock. The times Anthony had sucked him, eaten him.
Mark laughed, and then he gestured, waving a hand before he folded his arms, leaned against the doorjamb. "This, though. I've never seen you play the piano."
"Yeah." Anthony looked down. "I told you it was like a kid showing a crayon drawing to da Vinci."
"Not at all. You're good."
"You're just saying that."
Mark snorted and rolled his eyes. "Anthony, you know how opinionated I am about music. I wouldn't give you false praise, even with our history."
Anthony wanted to believe that. He almost did. He rubbed his chin and squirmed awkwardly in his seat at the piano. "I'm sorry about yesterday. We should know better than to do stuff in a common room now that it's not just the three of us -"
"Like you said, it's nothing I haven't seen before. And I don't want you to cramp your style because of me. I'm a guest in your home."
Somehow, that bothered Anthony more than if Mark had objected to what he'd seen. Anthony realized it was Mark calling himself a guest. Technically that was true, but Mark was also family, even if it was only from a past life. The way that was worded troubled him, like Mark still didn't quite feel at home yet.
Not that Anthony could blame him. He knew it would take time, after all those thousands of years alone. He knew, too, that their history in this life made it more challenging to feel settled.
They needed to talk, though Anthony wasn't sure he was ready yet to forgive Mark, even as he felt like a hypocrite for feeling that way after Sören had forgiven him for that one cheating episode in October 2013, that had been far worse. Anthony got up from the piano, grabbed his cane, and walked over to the couch, the same couch where he and Sören had their sixty-nine yesterday. Mark sat in the armchair.
For a moment they just looked at each other and didn't say anything, like both of them were trying to figure out what to say, how to say it. Anthony took out his fidget spinner and played with it. Then Anthony heard himself blurting out, "The other night, you mentioned Olórin is around. ...Disguised as my therapist."
"Which mean he's observing you." Mark scowled; Anthony observed he had the same bitchface as Sören and Nicholas, it was uncanny.
"Do you think he thinks we're dangerous?" The thought seemed preposterous.
"Or in danger. Or both."
Anthony dropped his fidget spinner.
Mark exhaled and suddenly the spinner moved from the floor to Anthony's lap, without being touched. "The lore states Fëanor's fëa would be released from Mandos before the Dagor Dagorath. Something's going on."
"Some... thing." Anthony felt like an idiot, but he was too shocked.
Mark nodded and got up. "Interesting times ahead." He started to walk off, but lingered at the couch, putting a hand on Anthony's shoulder. His touch made Anthony tingle. Their eyes met, and held, and then Mark walked away. No further explanation. No apology, either.
It was perhaps just as well. Anthony sat there reeling, both in disbelief of watching Mark use telekinesis, and the implications of what Mark had just said.
Is this why we're here, now? To be here at the end of the world?
chapter 11 | return to Learning To Fly | return to Other Tolkien Fic | return to index